Well over forty, my biological clock has almost stopped.
My ideal man is handsome, plays sports, drives a Porsche, and holidays in Mauritius.
My next “date” sits opposite me now.
“I’m Cecil,” he lisps. “I like bird watching and stamp collecting and I live with Mummy.”
Close enough, I think!
She excitedly told her friends about the cat stalking her unfinished sculpture on the kitchen floor.
As it materialized one could feel the amazing spirit of the piece infusing inanimate plaster with life.
It wasn’t until years later she laughed about the dead mouse she eventually found at the centre.
If all the misbehaved, screaming children in restaurants were eaten for dinner.
If tailgaters grew tails, and road-hogs were butchered for bacon.
If lying politicians were publicly flogged by their constituents.
If gossipers were muzzled.
If what goes around really came around, and karma decided the fate of future existences.
This is your virtual pilot. Thank you for flying Everywhere Airline. You are flying on the first fully automated airplane and are in the hands of the most advanced computers in the world. Relax and enjoy the flight. We can guarantee that nothing will go wrong go wrong go wrong—
Fillip Verdun wrote this story.
Montgomery Jackson’s luck ran out when, at the annual manoeuvres, and in front of the new Commander, he proudly showcased the new guerrilla tactics he had developed.
Charging headlong at the enemy whilst bellowing, hurling vegetation and beating one’s chest like a dominant Silverback was simply not the done thing.
From the North West of England and currently working in local government, Jon likes to write and be creative. He is inspired by flash fiction and other short works, and is regularly blown away by the high standard of 50-word offerings on this site.
He got home exhausted. It had been a hard work day.
The fridge: empty. Nothing to cook. Again.
Some pizza would work. Some Chinese, maybe.
He turned on the television. “…for the second consecutive time, the Best Chef of the Year is…” He smiled seeing his face on the news.
“Where’s Private Landowsky?”
“He’s on sick call with a concussion.”
“What happened to him?”
“The drill sergeant gave him a rock to hold so he wouldn’t forget which is his left hand.”
“And…?”
“An officer passed by and Private Landowsky forgot that he’s supposed to salute with his right hand.”
John H. Dromey has had short fiction published in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, Crimson Streets, Stupefying Stories Showcase, and elsewhere.
“You must be God… And this is…”
“Judgment Day.”
“Where you review my entire life and see if I’m worthy?”
“Just the last day. Your whole life takes too long and there’s a line behind you.”
“It represents my entire life?”
“Yes.”
“When did this start?”
“Always been this way.”
Hi, I’m Jim and I’m here because of the damn judge. See… I sleep naked and don’t dress until after breakfast and coffee. So I took the coffee pot and griddle out of their boxes, new as they were, and got started. The people at that Walmart were sure mad.
World leaders summoned the aging hacker to thwart a new form of terrorism. A subverted Pokémon GO was luring millions to their deaths. Hacker had inserted an avaricious agent designed to destroy them all within 24 hours.
The screens powered on; a single grinning character remained: Pac Man had returned.