After paying in cash so there would be no paper trail,
after sneaking it in under his shirt,
after hiding it all weekend in the back of the freezer,
after thawing it in the microwave while she bathed,
he put the dead mouse under her pillow,
and then he waited.
Bob Thurber is the author of “Paperboy: A Dysfunctional Novel” and two collections of stories. A celebrated master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in 60 anthologies, received dozens of awards, and been used in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts where, despite severe vision loss, he continues to write every day. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
I didn’t get the warmest of welcomes when I started at the new branch. In fact, it was downright chilly!
Months passed before I discovered that Frank, my best work buddy and inveterate office joker, had phoned ahead to warn my new colleagues about my kleptomania and willful fire-raising tendencies.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland. He once flew in a UFO but was sworn to secrecy by the Men in Black.
Jack glanced around the office. As usual, everyone – including the cute girl from finance – was ignoring him.
Photocopiers hummed, water coolers bubbled. Jack took a deep breath and typed:
Mum, I’m sorry, I can’t cope any more. Goodbye forever.
Then he hit ‘send’ and walked away from his boss’s keyboard.
Mark Farley (mumbletoes.blogspot.com
) is attempting to write 1,000,000 words in 2016. Please wish him luck!
“Mommy, I’m scared. Is there a ghost in the house?”
“I don’t think there is, Evie. Why do you ask?”
“Well, sometimes when I go into the kitchen, I get chills running up and down my spine.”
“Junior! For the last time! Quit dropping ice cubes down your sister’s dress.”
John H. Dromey has a story in the anthology A Kiss Is Still a Kiss (Next Step Books, 2015).
Check the news, honey. Apparently something crazy happened at work today. I was napping in a storage room. (Hey, I earn my siestas!) The guys didn’t give me many details. When I woke up they said it was over already.
Haircut? What haircut? Why are you laughing? Did someone…?
He gave her a wilted flower on February 15, just to see how she would react.
His friends thought it was hilarious.
She slapped him so hard she drew blood.
Ten years later, lying awake in bed, he realized he’d never met another girl who could make him really feel.
This story was based on the prompt “wilted” at TypeTrigger.
“One last thing, Officer Markham.”
“Look out for youths wearing baggy trousers. That’s the mark of the Hooligans’ Club!”
“Yes, sir!” Markham strode off on patrol.
The Captain chuckled. Rookies were so gullible!
He felt differently later, while processing the paperwork for seventeen wrongful arrests of baggy-trousered teenagers.
This story is based on the title suggested by Nicholas Barlow.