“You in the back row, um… let me see… Sarah, please use the word ‘pungent’ in a sentence.”

“Walter, in my math class, is very pungent.”

“Sarah! That’s not very nice. Do you know what the word ‘pungent’ means?”

“Yes, it means smelly.”

“That’s right. Step out into the hall, please. And don’t come back in until I tell you to.”

“But, Miss Foster…”

“I said go out of the class, young lady.”

“Now. What is the next word? Ah, yes. This is a good one. Nick? I remember your name. Would you please use the word ‘warren’ in a sentence.”

“Walter would live in a warren if he didn’t live in a cage in our math class.”

Ahem. Very good, Nick. Would you please do me a favour and ask Sarah to come back in?”

Black Friday

“Are you ready for our chaotic day at the shops tomorrow, then?”

“It’s the ‘stores,’ luv. We’re in America now.”

“Oh, all right then. The ‘stores.’ Are we taking the lorry or the car?”

“We’re going to take the truck. We’d better if we’re going to buy a new bed.”

“Right then. Better get the shopping bags out of the boot of the car for the small stuff.”

“What’s that sigh for?”

“Nothing, me luv. Did you ask them to close off the lift when we get back?”

“Yes I did. And it’s the ‘elevator.'”


Chili might elicit a burp or a fart
And lightning a blink or a wink

The moonlight might just draw out a gasp




And cause your canoe to sink (but I doubt it).

Creamy trois – seven months later

(Part two: Creamy too – 100 words)

“Hey man, long time no see! What’s new with you?”

“Oh, you know. Finished college. I’m engaged.”

“Right on. Who’re you marrying?”

“Remember that ‘creamy’ chick?”

“No! So she didn’t impale you after all?”

“Oh yeah, she did. But after that she agreed to swap her collection of stuffed heads for a trailer.”

“So now you’re…”

“Getting hitched.”

(For Joey. 🙂 )

Creamy, too – 100 word fiction

(Part One Creamy.)

“Hey man, did you see that ‘creamy’ chick again today?”

“Yep. She sat behind me again. This time she whispered, ‘You’re really, really creamy,’ and then she licked my ear.”

“Geez! What did you do?”

“I talked to her after the lecture. We went home to her place.”


“And she’s got a fridge full of whipped cream.”

“So you…”

“So I got creamy.”

“Wow. Are you gonna see her again?”

“I think so. She said something about me being extra horny.”

“She didn’t have, like, deers and rhinos mounted on the walls, did she?”

“Yeah! How did you know?”


Fuuuuck! I just dropped a piece of fish off my fork on the way to my mouth. Do I pick it up? Do I let it sit in the carpet? Who the hell puts shag carpet in their dining room anyway? The host of this dinner party, apparently. I already feel like I don’t belong among these stuck-up prissy billionaires, with their posh manners and their ‘oh-so-very’ way of talking.

Why don’t these people have a dog?!? If I pick it up I’ll look like an idiot who can’t feed himself, and if I don’t, they’re going to remember who sat here and made their stupid shag carpet smell like wharf in August. And why the hell are they serving fish at a party? Don’t they know how many regular people can’t stand fish?

I know. I’ll drop my knife and when I pick it up, I’ll get the fish at the same time.

What the fuck? Where’d that servant come from? Aaaand he’s bringing me a clean knife. Great. So much for that idea.

I don’t really like the looks of the woman sitting opposite me. Maybe I’ll kick it under her chair. Then they’ll think she dropped it and I’ll be off the hook. OFF THE HOOK! THAT’S FUNNY! Okay, I’ve got to stop giggling. People are looking at me.

“Yes, the weather is lovely this time of year. What was I laughing at? Oh, um, nothing.”

Smooth. Okay, now if I can just kick it over there… Damn it! The soles of these fancy dress shoes are too slippery. I’ll have to take my shoe off.

UGH! I can smell my own feet. Gotta slip my shoe back on. Now the old lady across the table is giving me the eye. Wait, did I nudge her with my foot? Oh God, I might have! She’s going to think I want to play footsies!

AHHH! She’s sticking her toe up my pant leg! Gotta stay calm, gotta stay calm. I’ll just smile at her and… Dear God she winked at me!!

“Excuse me, I just have to, um, use the facilities. Could you direct me… Down the hall to the left? Thank you.”

Okay, time to make my escape. Should I try and pick up the piece of fish? Maybe I can just bend down and nobody will notice… Holy shit… OUCH! The lady across from me just kicked me in the mouth!

“I wasn’t… I mean, I was just trying to… Oh fuck it.”

Well I won’t be invited back here again. I hope the old lady enjoys her fluffy shag-covered fish for dinner.


Dear Brian (I think that was your name.)

I want to convey my sincere apologies for my husband’s behaviour at the restaurant tonight. I thought you were an excellent waiter. But please understand that my husband is very jealous, so when I complained that my fork was dirty and you licked it clean for me, he thought you were coming on to me.

I’m so sorry he gave you a black eye. I’d like to make it up to you. Please find enclosed with this note a $100 bill and a box of condoms. I’ll be at the motel out on Route 67 by the gas station at 10pm tonight.

Yours truly,

The Lady at Table 6

P.S. I hope regular-sized condoms are okay. I took you at your word when you referred to my husband as the bigger dick.


I can’t believe it! My entire troupe has been banned from the local hospital! We all went into the Emergency Room because one of the guys had a cut on his finger that needed stitching up. One look at the expression on his face and we all knew he needed moral support.

So off we all went, just to keep him company, you know? And then, what do you know; they kicked us out!

Apparently they don’t allow mimes in the ER who aren’t sick or injured. The nerve!

#SoCS – Volunteer

I should never have volunteered to drive you home. It would have cost me less to throw you in a cab than to have to clean the upholstery of my car, but then who would have carried you into the house? I’d hate to think the cab driver might have just dumped you out in your driveway and left you there to freeze, or worse, drown in your own vomit.

I threw my back out, you know. Carrying you up the stairs at the front of your house to get you inside. Why the hell do you live on the second floor? For God sakes, you could have at least had the decency to move into a ground floor apartment. And then there was Rex.

You told me your dog was friendly. Yeah, right. So why have I been sitting in the emergency room for three hours, again, for the second time in the last three days? Oh right. You didn’t know he’d somehow contracted rabies. Sure thing.

If that wasn’t bad enough, I still have a huge lump on my head from the cast iron frying pan your ex-wife hit me with, when she found out I let you get drunk in the first place. I know, I know. I shouldn’t have told her. But how was I to know your last words to her were, “Of course I’m going to AA meetings”?

I did think you had a lot of nerve to invite me out for a beer to make up for it all. And there you are texting me again…

I nede a rid hoame. At teh bar.

Hehe. Go fuck yourself.


This post was written in stream of consciousness and left unedited. If you’d like to participate in Stream of Consciousness Saturday, just click the link and see how!


With careful planning in place,
Mr. Johnson came first in the race,
He took off his clothes
And pointed his nose
And used all his wind to save face.