Need a Predator??…..Call me

 

 

 

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65 years experience.

 

Do you need to find out if your husband IS cheating? I’ll track your partner from dusk til dawn. I only charge for my investigative services. If I find that he IS cheating, then Husband dismembering and disposal are free – you’ve been through enough.

You’re owed money? I’ll use intimidation tactics first. If that fails then I will cause bodily injury. And if that fails I’ll simply dispose of the debtor and take what is owed. But rest assured, I WILL get your money.

Any confrontations requiring backup? I’ll just stand there until the problem is resolved.

If these sound like YOUR problems and you need my help: Please Call 07*** ***486. As I’m a Predator and don’t require sleep, call me ANYTIME – I’m available 24 hours a day.

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Another fun Photo Prompt…Wouldn’t it be great to have a Predator to do battle on our behalf?! I know I’d employ him!  

Every Sunday at ‘Sunday Photo Fictioners’ a new pic serves as the prompt. The idea is to write a story based on that pic – however subtle or obvious – and to write roughly 200 words, (give or take a few). Click the Blue Froggy below to check out the Stories for this week, and to visit the prompts home 🙂

Chosen? Noooooo!

 Genre: Humour/Humor

 

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

photo: © Barbara.W.Beacham

Chosen? Noooooo!

 

The petroglyphs told the story of an unusual event, yes, they certainly did. it was the bi-yearly event that always sent waves of joy, and fear – (for good reason), – across all the land. It was indeed that time again, time for the second annual event, which people rejoiced in, (or plain dreaded), for the mating ritual of the holiest of holiest: The Sacred Pigeons.

Each of the 12 Tribe-Leaders eldest son’s had the unenviable task of potentially becoming the ‘Chosen’ one. They would all form a circle and the most revered Pigeon of them all  (the grey one) would fly high above their heads. The one it decided to crap on, was then, by rights, ‘Chosen’.

The Sacred Pigeon mating ritual is a symbol of abundance, good fortune, health and fertility. But to the ‘Chosen’ one, it’s none of these things. As the official mating overseer – (making sure it goes smoothly and having enough birdseed on hand for when the Pigeons took their break) – to him, this was nothing more than complete embarrassment, utter humiliation, plain bad luck and unequivocal misery. One thing he was sure of – he’ll never be the same again 😀

 

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I wrote this story a little while ago. Hopefully, it fits in well with today’s Daily Post Prompt ‘Farce’. If you Click Here you can visit The Daily Post and see what these Daily Prompts are all about as well as to have a read of other’s take on today’s prompt 🙂

(This was originally posted in 2014)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Paranoid? Am I really!  

Joe Somebody sat at his laptop and stared at the screen. He just couldn’t begin his story for the day.

“What should I write about?” he thought to himself. “Come on, think”. But it was no use, nothing was coming.

And then he saw it.

“What the…?” He was initially alarmed at seeing the fly sitting there on his keyboard, he didn’t like flies. But then clarity hit him: The reason why his entire life he had felt like something or someone was always watching him, judging him, and scrutinizing his every move and making him paranoid, was because it was true, he really was being watched and the fly was the proof.

With his suspicions confirmed, he now knew he wasn’t crazy and that he’d been right the whole time. And the rock solid evidence was there, sitting on his computer, watching him.

But, how was he now supposed to write a story??

He got it! He would write about this very thing. He would write a story centered around his justified paranoia.

“Yes”, he thought. “That could work”!

He began to type. And half an hour later he had written his story.

It may not be the best story he had ever written. But in the end, after finally discovering the truth, he had stopped staring at that screen. And if it wasn’t for discovering the truth, he wouldn’t have had a story to write.

He was pleased. Sort of. If he hadn’t of had this epiphany he wouldn’t have had a story. But, what will be do now that he knows the truth? He didn’t know. Maybe he’ll write about and answer that one tomorrow. This day had been eventful enough.

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Today’s photo prompt is courtesy from Sunday Photo Fictioner. You can pay a visit by clicking here and read a variety of others stories!

Knackered

Genre: Humour/Humor & That’s Life

 

Knackered

 

Knackered…. What does it even mean?

I am probably the definition of Knackered. Broken. Tired. Over the hill.
I think I have been around too long.

You do get worse for wear as you get older. Until you get there though, your teenaged feelings of invincibility slowly gets replaced with that unavoidable fact – that you did get old, just like those you once looked up to. Those that seemed to be born middle-aged. And of course, they were right, in many ways: It’s all downhill.

I’m not being pessimistic, I am telling it how it is – You Will Age: your body gets the hardest hit.
I can’t play tennis like I used to. Shit, I can’t even run for a bus like I did 5 years back. However, I may be knackered, but I sure as hell don’t have the mental maturity of a ** year old: Well, maybe in certain areas.

Young & Old. Half and half. 50% one way, 50% the other.

So, what can I do to improve the 50% that is old and tired?
How can I shift the percentages in favour of the young aspects of my personality and being?
How do I stop my body getting worse?

Life’s millions of questions.
And hindsight. What a beautiful thing, though incredibly unhelpful.

I think everyone is searching for the fountain of youth – one of life’s greatest quests shovelling up no successes to speak of.

And Anti-Ageing: How the heck can you ‘Un-Age’? I ask myself.
It doesn’t exist. Never has and never will. It’s a wasted effort. So save yourself a few quid.

I’m now well passed my sell-by-date. The time in your life, when as a teen you never thought would happen to you and come, does. Oh dear. Here it is.

Anyway. I’m knackered and I’m off to bed. What else can I say? I’ve reached middle-agedness.
I’ll get up a bit later today.

🙂

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Daily Post Prompt – ‘Knackered’. Click here to view

Sadistic Teachers and Such!

Hello! The following is a story for our Sunday Photo Fiction prompt (here) of a History class that’s a bit on the unusual side. Slightly disturbing but highly amusing which should make up for it! I hope you enjoy it (or not!) 🙂

 

Genre: Humour/Humor

185-12-december-11th-2016

 

 

Our History Teacher was bit of a sadist. He was trying to teach us his favourite torture methods of the 20th century in comparison to his favourites of 15th century medieval Europe. Suffice to say, we were most definitely not looking forward to this lesson.

He was particularly impressed with how torture techniques had ‘come a long way’ since their peak in medieval times. His favourite modern method involved  a blow torch inserted into a certain orifice and turned on – repeatedly. This was, as he joyously classed it, “pure genius”, and the ideal way to elicit a confession.

We in the class felt unwell. Plus we had to sit through more of this for another 45 minutes.

He gave us a handout. On it were descriptions of common medieval torture devices. Our job was to list them in order of effectiveness. The whole class lost all colour in their cheeks as they read down the list. Our Teacher, on the other hand, gushed uncontrollably.

With just 10 minutes left, my survival seemed imminent. Then he hit us with a homework assignment. We are to invent our own original torture device and the best ‘new method’ wins a prize. Inside, we were groaning as the lucky winner gets to accompany our Teacher on a guided tour of The London Dungeon’s where, as he put it, we can see first hand the marvels of past torture devices.

I don’t know what I’m going to come up with but I’m sure it’s going to be the lamest torture device ever imagined. No doubt Teacher will feel tortured reading it especially as the entire class has got the same idea.

Either way, the ringing bell goes and finally, our misery is over!

 

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The Boys Have Done It Again!

Genre: Humour/Humor

 

171 09 September 4th 2016

 
“Dave, Dave!” …”DAVE!!”

Bobby screamed as he came shooting round the corner to where his friend sat.

Looking up from his pint – and not in the mood for his pal today – asked what the problem was.

Bobby was now completely out of breath.

“It’s not a problem Dave.…It’s MONEY…money, money, MONEY!!!” ”

Dave’s immediate thought? “Continue my friend“…

…His actual words: “Spit it out then, Moron!”

“Lampposts!”

Dave wanted to cry.

“Lampposts?”

Unable to contain his excitement, Bobby, still trying to catch his breath, continued on.

“The storm that hit last night? It blew down some Antique Lampposts over at the canal walk. 19th Century Lampposts Dave… 19th CENTURY!…. It’s Moneeeeeeeey!!”

Dave’s interest suddenly peaked 10 fold.

“Antiques you say?”

“Yes!”

“Antique Lampposts?”

“Yes!!”

“Alright, lets go”

And off they set for the canal.

Now, what the duo didn’t know, was that the storm…. was due back in 2 minutes.

And as they were about to run off with the ‘Antique’ Lampposts, a 100 mph gust of wind blew the unsuspecting pair off their feet and right into the canal.

But they still held on to those Lampposts.

2 hours later, with the wind subsided, they emerged clambering back out of the water – drenched.

Dave hadn’t the chance to inspect their find. But when he did, he was none too pleased.

“Bobby! These are NOT bloody antiques!!”

“Sure they are Dave” Bob said feeling a little confused. “Why wouldn’t they be?”

Dave was losing the will to live…

“Because, you idiot, it’s got ‘Property of Greenwich Council’ written on it!!”

Oh dear. Poor Bob and Dave, they honestly thought they knew a quick buck when they saw one.

So, really fed up now, a disgruntled Dave squelched his way back to the pub. And Poor soggy Bobby couldn’t understand what just happened:

“I don’t get it. These ARE Antiques, you can tell”.

And to add insult to injury, the storm returned and blew him right back in the canal!  🙂

 

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Hello All! This story is a little bit late and my recent absence is because I’ve entered short-story competitions. It’s been an exciting process especially as it’s a new experience. I’m happy for the opportunity 🙂

So, this story today is from Sunday Photo Fiction’s weekly challenge. And each week the goal is to write 200 words, more or less, from a photo prompt. Click here to visit the site and one week maybe participate yourself?!

See you soon! 🙂

P.s. If you’d like to read more ‘Bob and Dave’ the pretty rubbish criminals, their antics are in two other stand alone stories.

“Boat, Watch Out!!” is found if you Click Here. And…

“Bob, Dave and the ‘Find’ of the Century” is Right Here.

Hope you enjoy! 🙂

Oh-no, not ‘That’ time again!

Genre: Humour/Humor – Idiocy!

 

 

Oh-no, not ‘That’ time again!

“Psssst!…..

…Pssssssst!!!”

East Rock was really trying his best to wake West Rock. They had ‘Visitors’ coming in half-hour and West Rock needed to be up.

“OI!!!” East Rock shouted. “WAKE UP!!” he yelled.

That got West Rocks attention; he began to stir. “What time is it?”

Not again. East Rock went through this every single year: Solstice coming, Visitors approaching and, as usual, West Rock, totally forgetting the time of year – again – always needing reminding.

As West Rock started to get his bearings, he grumbled the same moaning that he did every year:

“Why can’t they go to Stonehenge or somewhere, why do they have to come here for their ‘Praying to the Stones’ ritual? Don’t they realize that their laying hands on me, whilst chanting some kind of weirdness, doesn’t actually do anything?”

“Just do it” East Rock implored.

So with a heavy, bored sigh, West Rock did as he was told and began to ‘Vibrate’.

How these people thought this ridiculous charade was some kind of ‘Spiritual Awakening’, he had no idea.

But West Rock did know something. He knew that once they laid their hands on him and felt ‘Something’, they would think he was great. And possessing that kind of ‘public greatness’ meant just one thing: He, nor East Rock, would be bulldozed down only to be replaced by low-cost housing.

So, on that fact alone, he decided that ‘Vibrating’ for these incredibly deluded people was, very much, in his favour to do so. And, with that, he quit his moaning, saw the positive, and did as East Rock asked him to: and pulsed away!

 

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Today’s photo prompt by ‘Flash Fiction for Aspiring Authors’, which is on every Tuesday, and you can find it here.