My response to Chelsea Owen’s Weekly Hilarity Contest, (limit 200 words) with the following prompt. “…” [T]here really is no valid excuse for an able-bodied person going out of his head from being bewildered in the big woods so long as he has a gun and ammunition, or even a few dry matches and a jackknife.” Horace Kephart

When I jack-knifed my camper trailer in a place where even the most desperate dingo has never ventured, my first instinct was to adopt the foetal position.

Cramp eventually encouraged me to survey the damage. Alas my trusty Beetle and my 6 metre fully loaded camper had merged as one, never the twain to separate.

Recalling the immortal words of Horace, I rummaged through the wreckage until I found my only ‘gun’, complete with ammunition, and felt comforted by the fact that I had a staple diet at hand.

I also found dry matches and after I’d assembled enough twigs and branches, I looked around for somewhere to strike a match on. I decided the rough canvas on the trailer would be perfect and proceeded to experiment. Unfortunately, I had failed to note that the jack-knifing had ruptured my fuel tank.

When the Country Fire Service issued me with a coat that tied at the back to keep me warm and choppered me out to answer some pointed questions about the loss of some million hectares of virgin state forest, I couldn’t help but think of those poor souls in quarantine who would give anything to be me right now.

This 99 word piece was written for the Carrot Ranch challenge “What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you are in absolute danger?“ Not sure what would be the the first thing in my mind in that situation but I know what was in Mum’s.

My Mum was a stickler for cleanliness. One day she said to me, ‘Goodness, there’s enough dirt in your ears to grow potatoes.’ So she did. I missed a lot that the teacher said because of those King Edwards in my earholes.

She would always ask if I had clean underpants on. She said she’d die of embarrassment if I got run over by a car and the doctors saw that I had skidmarks on my undies. Forget any inconsolable grief. She wanted to be able to hold her head high when she went to pick up my body.

This piece was written for this week’s 99 word challenge, with ‘nourish’ as the prompt, courtesy of Charli Mills’ Carrot Ranch

As Phoebe drove home with her husband, Spike, safely strapped into the passenger seat, she decided it was time for him to hear some home truths.

‘You know, Spike, in all our married years, never once have you praised anything I’ve done or supported me when it mattered. Frankly, I can’t even recall you being anything remotely like happy, except when you were sounding off about the stupidity of everyone around you.’

Silence.

Phoebe arrived home, unstrapped Spike’s urn, removed the lid and spread his ashes under her rose bushes.

‘Last chance to nourish something, Spike.’

The roses smiled.

Alas, Chelsea Owens’ Weekly Terrible Poetry contest is no more but rising from its ashes is the phoenix of the Weekly Hilarity Contest.

The first week’s challenge is:

• Write a short story, poem, song, or really long sentence about Birds.
• Don’t make it too long. We’ve got real life to get back to.
• The goal is to make me, the judge LAUGH ALOUD. Whoever tickles my funny bone the best will be crowned champion.

My shop is called The Birds, partly because it’s unsettling Hitchcockian overtones amuse me but mostly because I only sell birds. Customers flock to my avianorium, where only the best of the nest will do, so that they can pin a feather in their cap and cock a snoot at less discerning buyers. One day, a preening peacock of the human variety entered my shop and looked down his not inconsiderable beak at various of my wing-ed wonders and trilled thus:

‘I had hoped to find feathered treasure but, alas, I feel let down. Nevertheless, I will take that vaguely presentable kookaburra to give my friends a laugh.’

‘$500, cage included.’

‘Oh, you are a hoot. $200 is my best and final offer.’

Taking my silence as lack of consent, he turned theatrically and made for the door, before pausing and turning.

‘One last chance to change your mind’

I gave him the bird.

This piece was written for the 99 word Carrot Ranch challenge on the subject of long boards.

The boss said to the boy ‘Fetch me a long board from the hardware. Ask Gus, the owner, he’ll know what I mean.’

Gus listened to the boy, grunted, and said to wait.

The boy waited, patiently.

Eventually Gus said ‘How long you been waitin’ now?’

The boy replied “Couple of hours.’

‘Are you bored?’

The boy nodded cautiously.

‘Well, then I guess you’re long bored, so you can go back to work now.’

When he got back his boss said ‘Well, where’s the long board I sent you for?’

‘The pigs are flying it in tonight.’