With the dust explosion last year, Grandpa opened his new shop in the old chicken house. It had plenty of light plus good air circulation. He also installed a state-of-the-art vacuum dust collector system. After all, the fire marshal had written “careless smoking” under ‘cause.’
“Well, it wouldn’t happen again.” Mama said, having the workmen put up the new sign.
“Now you mind what you’re a doing from now on! “No more smoking!”
“Yes dear,” he said putting his Copenhagen back in his suspenders. “Besides, I quit!”
“So you say!” she said, as she threw his pipe in the well.
Submitted 1-23-2014 by Nan C. FalknerFriday Flash Fictioneers
Mr. Bob T. Builder
Dear Mr. Builder:
The Homeowners Association has received a complaint about new improvements made last year that do not fit our requirements.
As you signed the Association rules when you bought your home, you agreed that no improvements would be made to your property without written approval from the Building & Permits Division of Home Quality and Aesthetic Beauty:
“The color of gate door is unacceptable”
Consider this notice the remedy situation and bring your home into compliance.
Please return the highlighted agreementbelow, sign and return it in the provided envelope.
The Road to town was a canal now – a waterway that could be navigated by anyone willing to leave the safety of home and venture out.
Crops ruined, and several head of cattle missing. Each time they had picked themselves up and started over but now, with David gone, she didn’t know what to do. Soon, the vultures would be circling. The bankers and the blood sucking lawyers would demand payment in full.
One envelope left from David to help her through this. As she opened it, the sun streamed through the windows and she smiled – he had foreseen this.
The Estate Sale had gone well. All the big ticket items had sold – just a few items left. The water fountain that Millie had enjoyed so much was inpieces – but would be a welcome addition to their café.
Harold would also transplant the blue clematis, which she had begged him to do so many times. He picked up the wooden disk with “to-it” engraved on it, kissed it, put it back in his pocket, and winked at the sky. “Honey, told you I would move the flowers one of these days. Thanks for the token. I miss you!”
Waylon was chosen out of all the dogs at the pound. The twisted tree was a bonus. He was a climber.
Today, he was up to 3 balls–2 soccer and 1 small yellow one, the record being 5. He also had caught 3 kites, and balloons.
Jessa wanted him to play. “Waywon, peeez!”
One more look and he would go, but next door, they were playing badminton. He wanted to watch. Whomp! Waylon scurried, opened his mouth and chomp! Everyone was screaming. Too late, he realized birdie and feathers in his mouth and Mama Bird dive-bombing toward him.