He is a Liar!! A liar, a fornicator and I can’t stand it any longer! Mitzie had conviction in her voice as she addressed the Church board. Squeezing out a few tears completed the effect. The accused, Pastor Rigby, stunned, waiting for the church board to react. Rigby had perhaps squeezed a little out of his Church personal expenses, but what in the hell was she talking about?
Earlier that day, as the Church-administrator, Mitzie was denied vacation time by Rigby. By God he was going to pay. It started with texts to the church district office. Next lunch with the assistant pastor.
“Look Jeffery, you want that top spot don’t you? ” Jeffrey was puzzled until he saw the devious look in Mitzie’s eye. Give us a kiss Jeff, and leave the rest to me.
There was no wrong doing by Rigby but like any good strawman fallacy, her lies lit the straw-man on fire, Rigby couldn’t put it out.
Margarita glasses, “clink”in Cabo. Cheers Señor! Or should I say Senior Pastor Jeff!
As a former Church Board member, Nothing could be truer than the idea of “truth being stranger than fiction”. Just as the Strawman mentioned in this story, the repeating of rumors,(even in denial of the rumors) only cultivate them toward being believed.
“Gonna be dark soon.” “Get some paper and my Mom’s reading glasses into that last patch of sunlight and get a fire going. I’ll gather some wood”.
“I say we go back before they notice we are gone!”
“There’s no going back Luke. I made sure of that. I left a note on your Dads nightstand . They”ll never accept us being step siblings and boyfriend and girlfriend.” ” Parents! They have all the power, make crappy life choices, and we have to deal with the ramifications. Well we are going to turn these lemons into the worlds largest lemonade stand.”
Written for Priceless Joy’s 100 word Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge click Here to read the rest of the stories.
Waiting outside the temple in the snow, he alone was invited in because of his humility.
Who better a teacher on how to listen, than a blind master?
Upon snatching the pebble and enduring the pain of the burning cauldron, it was time to leave.
Like a locust drifting on the wind, the Shaolin landed In a foreign land.
Years past, mortal death arrived,he awoke feeling the tightening of his hamstrings, mandibles at the ready, as compound vision eliminated the need of eye movement.
Grasshopper heard Masters Po’s voice, “You must be the new student. come to me”!
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly photo-prompted 100 word writing challenge. Based on a photo prompt, the challenge is to pen a work of 100 words or less. If you’re interested in joining, or would like to read Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog; Here
For those not familiar, Kung Fu was an 1970’s American action-adventure martial arts western drama television series starring David Carradine. Controversially it is said that an original co-creator for the show was Bruce Lee. Lee was to star in the show but was thought to have been overlooked for looking “too Asian ” for at the time “no diversity” television industry. In this link the beloved Master Po gives Caine his “pet name” Grasshopper. Grasshopper Peace My Friends.
End of a long day. 115f was the high today, calling for 120F tomorrow. Top off the jeep allowing the desert air to dry my hair.
Entering the backyard just as the sun was going down. Norteño musica blared through dusty speakers, a mixed aroma of citronella oil and Mesquite filled the air. In the subdued light, a banquet table was calling. I filled my Dixie paper plate with doubled up corn tortillas with caramelized carne asada topped Pico de gallo and a dollop of crema fresca. The galvanized wash bin was filled bobbing golden metal topped Corona Extra bottles looking stranded titanic passengers pleading for rescue. I gladly accommodated.
The sun beaten screen door screeching for oil swung open and slammed shut. There he was, Don Pancho, standing just over 5 feet. He wore a straw cowboy hat. His silver sideburns made perfect bookends to his warm toothy smile. Out of respect, I stood and went to greet our host. “Hola, Don Pancho! I said. “Hola Raymundo, bienvenidos! ” I shook his calloused hand, a hard working hand of over 70 years. I had seen him out work men half his age.
This is the Mexico I know.
Word Count: 201
Don Pancho was not a fictional character, he was a well respected man that I had the honor of working with during my 9 year tenure as a landscape irrigation specialist during this period, Yuma,AZ. Man he could make a mean BBQ chicken. May God Keep him always. Peace.
Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story ~200 words based on a given photo prompt given(above) Hosted by Al Forbes. details visit Here
To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here