This piece has just been published by Stereo Stories.
Stories
Stories written by Doug Jacquier
The Chalk Outline
This little piece has made the long list in the Wilson’s Tales of the Borders competition in Berwick, UK.
The Chalk Outline
‘So, theories, Detective Constable.’
‘Hit and run, gov. By aliens.’
‘Based on what?’
‘Well, gov, the ambos said he was badly sunburnt.’
‘And the object in his hand?’
‘Sunscreen, gov.’
‘Sunscreen?’
‘Yes, gov. Clearly these were aliens originating from the
Sun. He’s legged it, hoping the sunscreen would save him.’
‘The Sun?’
‘Well, stands to reason, gov. If it was the Moon he wouldn’t
have panicked and run into the road.’
‘So, not a drunk in the middle of the road, whiskey bottle in
hand, flattened by a passing truck?’
‘No, gov. That’s what the aliens want us to believe.’
War and Pizza Store Menu
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
The temptation of Rabbi T.
This piece was written for this week’s Flash Fiction 99 word challenge around the theme of a rabbit on the roof.
Rabbi Tannenbaum trudged through the snow and knifing winds until he saw the diner. Inside, he was greeted by an older blonde woman.
‘Cold enough for ya?’ she said, her smile frozen but her eyes taking in every detail.
‘Could I get something to eat?’
‘Ain’t had no supplies in 2 weeks. How ‘bout a toasted ham or bacon sandwich.’
‘Anything else?’
‘I just made a pie for my husband, Pastor Schicklgruber. We got lucky. Rabbit fell of the roof last night and broke its neck.’
‘Can I just have coffee?’
‘Kosher can’, she said, her eyes daring him.
Tap dancing
This my response to the 99 word Flash Fiction Challenge prompt of ‘tapping’.
He started with a shuffle on the kitchen table, skillfully avoiding the remnant spaghetti bolognaise, wine glasses and tootsie rolls. (Some time ago, ‘she’ became ‘he’ with a ball change when she was living in Buffalo.) Confident of his Shirley Temple rhythm now, he performed a twirling arabesque to the draining board, hoping for a riffle effect but the leftover goose fat cooked his plans. Less than deftly, he shim-shammed across the Hot and Cold, where, alas, he lost his footing and lay sprawled in the sink with a broken ankle, one of the many drawbacks of tap dancing.
Clarice of the light
This piece was written for the Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction 99 word challenge, with the prompt word of ‘Clarice’. I have taken my inspiration from the Australian painter, Clarice Beckett. You can learn more about her here.
‘Oh, that Clarice. Fancies painting more than men. Imagine that? Still, she’s done the right thing by her parents. Even if she doesn’t have the sense to come in out of the rain.’
Robbed of her days by bedpans and sponge baths and soiled sheets, she inhabited the fringes of light, the beginnings and endings.
At the end, all of that light was in the shed, rotted and torn by the deniers of her eyes.
Yet the sun rose from her grave and illuminated her beaches and her streets anew. And now the monied hang the consequences.
Right-wing extremist
This 100 word piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers photo prompt below.
‘What’s with your new display. It’s a little one-sided, isn’t it?’
‘It’s symbolic of my political views.’
‘How so?’
‘Do you see any red there left of centre?’
‘Now that you mention it ….’
‘No tomatoes, no pinko apples, no anti-capitalist red capsicums, no radical radishes. And don’t get me started on those sob-story red onions. I’m not going to provide any oxygen to any fruit or vegetable that’s left of centre.’
‘But aren’t you cutting of half your income to make your point? And surely you can’t assign a political leaning to a vegetable?’
‘Have you voted lately?’
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Candles snuffed out
This 100 word piece was written for Friday Fictioneers with this photo as the prompt.
The opening of ‘Mme. Tussaud’s – The Musical’ was billed as a turning point in the history of the musical theatre but the cognoscenti, noticeable by their absence from the private boxes, begged to differ and the critics were merciless.
“Stiff and failing to wax lyrical.’ London Times
“Impressive costuming but lacked vivacity.” Washington Post
Producer M. Night Shyamalan vigorously defended his work, explaining it was an experimental work that attempted to explore the seventh sense but agreed the sagging expressions caused by the heat of the lights did not assist in conveying the complex emotions he envisaged for his characters.
A fishy lens
Photo: Dawn Miller
This is my 100 word response to this week’s Friday Fictioneers picture prompt.
Why aren’t you just happy to swim in the pond like all of us other fish?
What’s the point of having an inbuilt fish-eye lens if you’re not going to take pictures?
Inbuilt fish, gefilte fish. A load of codswallop.
Do I criticise your fish-net stocking sewing circle?
Anyway, why always that damn barn?
That’s where they keep their fishing rods and I don’t want them sneaking up on us.
Idiot, the new owners are vegans.
How do you know?
See any cows or sheep in that field?
I guess not.
Stick to selfies and posting on Fishbook.
Blown sideways
Written for Friday Fictioneers 100 word photo prompt.
We didn’t care that the rain came in sideways, driven by the same scouring winds that had delivered the dust from farms hundreds of miles away for so many summers now and sent our own on a similar journey. As long as there was enough to drown our despair at fly-blown carcasses in the paddocks, 100 year old trees falling like majestic matchsticks and harvesters rusting in sagging sheds because now real seeds only produced phantom crops. We hoped it triggered flash flooding and washed out the roads and cut off the power; that was pain we could gladly endure.
Six Crooked Highways 