Author: Doug Jacquier

The Birds

/ Doug Jacquier / 9 Comments

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.

First day on the job

/ Doug Jacquier / 4 Comments

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.’

An Ode to the anodyne Ms. O

/ Doug Jacquier / 7 Comments

Chelsea Owens has bought to an end her weekly Terrible Poetry competition because, instead of getting more terrible with each passing week, we started to sound more like people who were actually literate and punny. This is my final entry and tribute.

Bring a ring o’ poeters,

A pocket full of poseurs,

A tissue (of terribility) at issue

And we all fell down.

 

A bunch of us numpties, with almighty gall,

Us proletarian-lumpy had a great fail

All Chelsea’s exhortations to fracture our pens

Ended in the dumpster time and again.

 

But the fighter inside ‘er will eventually out

Back will come her brain and give the spiders

Gout from the sun-dried tomatoes that on her pizza reign,

And, Owen to her zeitgeist, she’ll re-rack us once again.

Letter from Gallipoli

/ Doug Jacquier / 7 Comments

This piece was written in response to Carrot Ranch’s 99 word challenge on the theme of distance dating. Today is Anzac Day in Australia and New Zealand, a tradition that started after 11,000 Australians and New Zealanders were needlessly slaughtered at Gallipoli in Turkey, allegedly to defend the British Empire.

Dear Flo

I’m writing this from the ship that’s taking us to some beach. The brass say it should be a walk in the park and that Johnny Turk will turn tail at the first sign of gunfire.

Every day I think about when we went to the beach with our picnic and the cordial bottle leaked and soaked all through our sandwiches. We laughed all the way home and that was the day I knew I wanted to be with you forever.

I’ll be home soon, so start thinking about our wedding.

Love and kisses

Bert

Ode to an automatic lawnmower

/ Doug Jacquier / 2 Comments

This is my response to the weekly Terrible Poetry contest prompt of ‘a humorous end to a useful object’.

 

Boris, as we called him,
made short work of our lawn in
no time at all for many a year,
his whirling dervishing music to my ear.

But one fateful day
his brain faded away
and chaos reigned on our green parade
as anything but lawn was flayed.

Boris charged and snapped dragons at full pelt,
(all the while how his innards smelt)
and mounted kerbs uncurbed
as he rose to the occasion so recently suburbed.

Just when I thought his madness was expended
and his carnationage had ended,
he climbed the bean poles, snicker-snack,
and gave the peas no chance, alas, alack.

There was nothing for it but the mortal blow
as my axe cleaved poor Boris’s fevered brow
and he shuddered and turned turtle
‘midst the burgeoning lemon myrtle.

Barfing on Dad’s old army pants

/ Doug Jacquier / 5 Comments

This week’s challenge on the world of Terrible Poetry is to parody a popular song on the the theme of Covid-19. I’ve chosen ‘Macarthur Park’ with some reluctance, having been a roadie for Jeff Duff in the distant past and was always thrilled to hear him sing this. Ah, well, anything for art.

 

The bus was never waiting for us, girl

It always left when the driver said

We stayed too late at the dance

It departed and we were depressed

In the closet, hot and stuffy,

Along with Dad’s old army pants.

 

We barfed there in the dark

All the Coke and pizza flowing down.

Then I had to walk home in the rain

Caught a cold, I can’t shake it,

so next week I can’t make it

Cos I’m locked down with the Covid once again.

Oh, no!
Oh, no
No, no
Oh no!!

Bucket heads

/ Doug Jacquier / 8 Comments

This piece was written for the 99 word Carrot Ranch  challenge of ‘shield your face’.

‘We’re going to have to tell him.’

‘What do you mean “we”. It was your idea!’

‘But you went along.’

‘True. You do realise he’s going to go mental?’

‘Oh, I realise alright. Hence these two buckets?’

‘OK, why the buckets?’

‘For protection.’

‘From what?’

‘From what’s going to happen when I tell him.’

‘You’ve lost me.’

‘You’re familiar with the phenomenon that is euphemistically called the waste substance hitting the revolving blades?’

‘The waste … oh, yeah, I get it.’

‘So when I tell him, put the bucket over your head to shield your face.’

The immortal sailor

/ Doug Jacquier / 28 Comments

This 100 word piece was written using the photo prompt below (photo supplied by Jeff Arnold) for Friday Fictioneers

It had taken seven years for him to complete his glass-encased diorama from his wheelchair. Every evening and most days would be spent working with tiny tools and a high-powered magnifying glass, to re-create the seaside village where he was born, lived and died. His home, the boatsheds and every boat were true to that time. The final touch was the rainbow, symbolising both his hopes for the future and the inevitable disappointments in his life as he searched in vain for its end. Years after I inherited it, I noticed him in his blue sailing jacket, the immortal sailor.

Rainbow

War and Pizza Store Menu

/ Doug Jacquier / 3 Comments

My entry into this week’s Carrot Ranch 100 word challenge on the theme of pizza.

PETA special – Contains no animal products but please note that wheat screams when it’s harvested.

Four Seasons – Perfect for the procrustinator

Meet Lovers – Could be anything but comes PDQ

Blonde – Toasted open sandwich (they’ll never know)

Neapolitan – Ice-cream pizza you can spoon

Deep dish – Intellectuals special

Frutti di mare – Italian for pretentious

Viagra – No droop, all satisfaction

Hawaiian – Take-away only, for the benefit of sensitive in-house diners

Carbonara – For that burnt crust taste

Pizza Cake – Easy combination of main and dessert

Aussie – with a dozen eggs, half a pig, beetroot, tomato sauce and attitude

OCD – exactly 17 olives

Cheepskates (with apologies to the immortal Lennie)

/ Doug Jacquier / 20 Comments

This piece was written for this week’s Flash Fiction 100 word challenge, with this photo from Douglas M. MacIlroy as a prompt.

Just because I’m like a bird on a wire (well, actually, sometimes I am, except when there isn’t one, and then I’m wireless and then I get drunk and sing in a midnight choir) doesn’t mean I can tap into the phone system. And people don’t seem to realise you can’t make trunk calls from a tree or even from a branch line. I see they’re into aerial photography and cable TV. Must be loaded. So if they’d open the window I could make some calls. (Don’t worry, they would be cheep.) Just trying, in my way, to be free.

Bird call