Canoop! the sound of your loop-tee-do Enough! the slough of your despondency Wooditch! the whinge of your panicky The meteor’s coming ‘ere election day!
Cannip the conniption fit, buddit the funk Swallow the glut of slubbish bilocracy Gnash, says the prophet Neal deGrasse Tyson, we’ll die in a blaze ‘ere election eve!
O Meteor of space! O Deliverer of grace! You’ll spare us, ‘ere you dare us, with crater Dustiferous, injurious, deleterious bringer Of sweltering doom ‘ere we galood election gloom!
Come the third of November, we’ll never remember Who’s Harris, Who’s Donald, What’s Joe Biden hidin’? We won’t know a thing when the meteor’s oncomin’ O’er helter-election-welter, combustin’ election eve!
“You can’t be serious, Maude!” “And just why can’t I, Fred? Twenty baby showers I’ve been to this August and I’m fed up!” “But it’s your own niece’s, Maude!” “Fred, we’ve spent a fortune on her already! Graduation from art school, and did you see the garbage that passed for modern art?! Then her birthday, bridal shower, now . . . .” “Okay, okay! But a baby chair somebody threw out with the garbage, that’s going too far!” (pause) “Is it garbage though? Or an art exhibit? Fred! Take a picture! Let’s take it all! Just the way it is!”
word count: 100
written for Rochelle's Friday Fictioneers
click on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields's hand-drawing of the frog for more
tales of a hundred words or less.
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Per-per-Mr. Percy Nicholas Snickety Snick-snick-snicker Old Snickety Finnicky tricks with splikity-spick jiminy So slick you snit-pick to flick out serendipity Tie your knickers to snotty-knotty per-sniffery And split-nick your persnickety way home.
Many thanks to Melanie whose challenging instructions were: Write a poem, story or anecdote, inspired by this word....Most importantly? HAVE FUN! (I did.)
She has her freedom: the wide canvas of the sky says so, the blazing fields and the cries of meadowlarks say so, and her precision android sensors register no more signs of human life where her raging fury had taken their toll.
She starts to divest herself of the multiplex visor and armor, ready to access her GPS for directional input, then freezes.
Her revenge is complete, so complete that now there is nowhere to go, because now there is no one left to go to.