FOWC with Fandango — Traffic

FOWCWelcome to October 3, 2018 and to Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (aka, FOWC). It’s designed to fill the void after WordPress bailed on its daily one-word prompt.

I will be posting each day’s word just after midnight Pacific Time (US).

Today’s word is “traffic.”

Write a post using that word. It can be prose, poetry, fiction, non-fiction. It can be any length. It can be just a picture or a drawing if you want. No holds barred, so to speak.

Once you are done, tag your post with #FOWC and create a pingback to this post if you are on WordPress. Or you can simply include a link to your post in the comments.

And be sure to read the posts of other bloggers who respond to this prompt. You will marvel at their creativity.

100WW — Mesmerizing

img_1619“It’s mesmerizing,” Gail said.

We were sitting in the back seat of my friend’s ‘57 Chevy Bel Air convertible, the top down as we headed across the Bay Bridge to Ocean City. Traffic was backed up for miles, as it often was on summer weekends, and the car was moving at barely five MPH.

I turned towards Gail to see what she was talking about and saw her looking up at the bridge structure overhead. As we passed slowly underneath, it was, indeed, mesmerizing.

I asked her to pass me the joint and took a deep hit. “Far out,” I said.

(100 words)

Written for Bikurgurl’s 100 Word Wednesday photo prompt.

SoCS — The Grilling

SONY DSCFor today’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt from Linda G. Hill, we are asked to use the word “grill” in our stream of consciousness post.

How appropriate for Memorial Day weekend, right? I will be grilling steaks, burgers, and fish on Monday and I’m really looking forward to it. But I figure that most everyone will be writing abour how they are planning to be out with their grills on their decks or patios or at the park or the beach grilling up a storm.

So just to be different, I thought I’d write a brief tale about a dysfunctional couple involving an apparently justifiable lack of trust. Here goes.

“Late again, I see,” Betsy said when Jack walked through the front door.

Jack sighed, knowing what he was in for. “Dan’s meeting ran late and then traffic on the thruway was a bitch,” Jack said.

“Don’t lie to me Jack,” Betsy said. “I tried calling your cellphone but I got that damn message that you were driving and couldn’t answer.”

“My iPhone does that automatically when it senses that I’m driving in a car,” Jack explained.

“I know you can override that, Jack. So where were you really?” Betsy said.

“I swear, Betsy, Dan’s meeting ran long, and you know how bad traffic can be on a Friday night,” Jack said.

“Oh really? What was the meeting about?” Betsy wanted to know. “Who was in it? Any females?”

“Yes, of course there were females in the meeting. Half of Dan’s staff is made up of women.”

“So who did you sit next to at this long meeting? Was it Carolyn? What did you talk about?” Betsy asked. “And did you give her a ride home from this supposed meeting? She only lives about half a mile from here, right?”

“Jesus, Betsy, I can’t stand it when you grill me like this almost every time I come home from work even a few minutes late,” Jack said. “I’ve had it with this shit. I’m going to the pub for a few beers to give you time to calm down. You need to get a hold of yourself by the time I get back in a couple of hours.”

And with that, Jack turned around and walked out of the house. He got in his car and pulled away, burning some rubber in the process. After driving a few blocks, he pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the car’s engine. He picked up his cellphone and punched in a number.

When the call was answered, he said, “Dan, this is Jack. Betsy’s getting suspicious.”

FFfAW — The Visitor


As the visitor waited for his daughter to pick him up at the airport, he received the text from her telling him that she’s running late. She suggested that he cross the street and busy himself at the bazaar until she arrived.

Despite the flow of cars, he managed to make his way to the parking lot that was now hosting the monthly bazaar.

There were many tents, some with food, others with touristy tchotchkes for sale. But he was drawn to the tent with the sign that said “Fortunes Told.”

He pushed aside the beads hanging across the opening of the tent, walked across a plush oriental rug, and sat down in a comfortable chair. A woman in colorful, flowing garb walked out from behind an opaque screen, sat down across from him, and motioned for him to place his hands into hers, which he did.

The fortune teller closed her eyes, leaving the visitor waiting in suspense for her to speak.

“Your ride is here,” she finally said. “That will be $25.”

(174 words)

Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge from Priceless Joy. Image credit: Dorothy.

Manic Monday — Summertime Blues

Image result for crowded beach

Who doesn’t like summertime? Kids love summertime because they don’t have to go to school. Parents love summertime because they can take family vacations. People love summertime because the weather is warmer and the days last longer.

I don’t like summertime. It’s hot. It’s muggy. There is thunder and lightning, which is very, very frightening…to my dog. And to me.

There are mosquitoes. I hate mosquitoes. And ticks. I hate ticks even more than I hate mosquitoes. The grass grows like crazy in the summertime, which is just another chore that eats into my precious blogging time.

And then there are the kids. They’re off school. They’re everywhere. Those damn rug rats run around screeching and making messes with their melting ice cream cones and gooey chocolate candy to step in or sit on. The lines to get in anywhere are longer than during any other season because of all those freakin’ kids who are on their damn family vacations.

And talking about overcrowding, try going to any beach in the summertime. What a zoo!

Because of the laws of supply and demand, gas prices go up in the summertime. The highways are jammed with vacationers traveling hither and yon, making getting from point A to Point B take at least twice as long.

So go ahead, people, and celebrate summertime. I offer you a big, fat bah humbug to this crazy season. I’m just going to sit here, stew, and write a post about how I have a bad case of the summertime blues.

This post is written for this week’s Manic Monday prompt from Sandi over at Flip Flops Every Day.

And for what it’s worth, I don’t really hate summertime. Well, not as much as one might think after reading this post, anyway.