Friday Fictioneers — The Dollhouse

“I know it’s around here somewhere,” Donna said. “My grandparents once owned this land.”

Bill, Donna’s husband, was hot, sweaty, and losing his patience. “We’ve been walking through these woods for hours, Donna, and I’m getting eaten alive by mosquitoes.

“Bill, I know we’re close. Let’s keep looking for another half hour. If we can’t find it by then, we’ll head back to the car.”

“Fine,” Bill begrudgingly said. Then he stopped and pointed to a small structure between the trees. “Is that it?”

Donna ran to the structure. “Yes, Bill, this is the dollhouse grandfather built for my mother.”

(100 words)


Written for the Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Alicia Jamtaas.

Friday Fictioneers — Cherry Tomato Depot

“Let me get this straight,” the loan officer, Ted Henderson, said. “You invested a quarter of a million dollars of your own money, exhausting your life’s savings, to build a structure in the shape of a giant cherry tomato, and now you need a loan so that you can actually have the funds to open up a retail store called ‘Cherry Tomato Depot’ that sells only cherry tomatoes. Is that right?”

“That’s right, sir,” Todd said. “The cherry tomato business is booming.”

Henderson picked up a rubber stamp, pressed it on the loan application, and handed it to Todd.

(99 words)


Written for the Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Dale Rogerson.

Friday Fictioneers — The Accident

“Well, your honor….”

“I’m not a judge,” the cop said. “I’m a police officer.”

“I knew that, ociffer — hic,” Barney said.

“How did this happen?”

“You see, ociffer — burp — I sometimes mix up which is the brake pedal and which is the, you know, gas pedal,” Barney explained. “That’s because I’m diabetic.”

“Diabetic?”

“You know,” Barney said, “when you have trouble reading because the letters are all jumbled up.”

“You mean dyslexic,” the officer said.

“Whatever,” Barney said.

“I’m arresting you, Barney, for driving under the influence.”

“Wait, I’m not drunk, I’m dyslexic.”

“Tell it to the judge, Barney.”

(100 words)


Written for the Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Liz Young.

Friday Fictioneers — The Short Straw

The dispatcher called me and told me he had a special trailer he needed me to haul with my rig. I was surprised when I saw it was an oversized load of literally half of a house.

I’d never hauled an oversized load before. I was only in my second year of trucking and was shocked that I’d be trusted with a load that size.

Once I left the depot, I realized that I had drawn the short straw. It was very windy with strong gusts and I had a hard time keeping my rig and load on the road.

(100 words)


Written for the Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Ted Strutz.

Friday Fictioneers — Another Direct Hit

“This is like a bad dream,” Max said as he surveyed the damage, “a goddam recurring dream.”

“More like a recurring nightmare,” Peg said. “This is the third time just this season.”

“Yes, and the season isn’t even over yet,” Max said.“Honestly, Peg, I think we need to consider selling the place. It’s not worth the aggravation.”

“Well, I’m the one who convinced you to move to Florida,” Peg said, “but I think you’re right.”

“I knew going in that Florida is prone to hurricanes,” Max said, “but I didn’t think they’d always take a direct hit on our house.”

(100 words)


Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers prompt. Photo credit: Dale Rogerson.