Furious Fiction 7

Australian Writers Centre Furious Fiction Competition

I look forward to the Furious Fiction First Friday each month. I don’t always take the opportunity to write something, but when I do, it certainly is furiously fast! This November, I had a chance to take a peek on Friday night, and I sketched out an idea, but I didn’t actually start writing until Saturday. It’s a fun competition with a terrific prize and you can read about it on their website.

Basically its 500 words in 55 hours for a $500 prize

The prompts for November 2019 were a bit tricky!Screenshot 2019-11-05 20.15.35

Here’s my effort!

Three in the Bed

“There were eleven in the bed, and the little one said roll o…”

Molly didn’t get a chance to finish the nursery rhyme.

“Cut it out! Eleven? It’s only ten!” Polly interjected vexatiously.

“I can have as many as I like! I can have 50 in the bed if I want.”

Molly and Polly had been bickering since birth. Molly, the eldest, by seven minutes, thought she could lord it over Polly. While Polly, who had benefited from a greater share of placental oxygen, was the tallest.

With the bickering came the secret schemes. The ones sealed with an even more secretive handshake. The sorts of schemes that only truly identical twins could pull off.

The sort of schemes that twisted and turned and caught the unsuspecting in a tangled web.

It started out innocently enough when one sister couldn’t keep an appointment, the other would go in her place. Polly would sit the Maths papers, Molly would do the art classes. They would lie in bed at night and giggle at the stories they had invented and what the other would need to do to stay in character for the next encounter.

The stakes grew progressively higher as they got older. They shared a Tinder profile. On Saturday nights they’d flick through the photos giggling and calling out in unison.

“Left!”

“Left!”

“Left!”

When they got to Lewis, they both shouted. “RIGHT!”

“We’ll share! He’ll never know.” Polly said.

Molly interpreted sharing as sequential dating. Polly had a better idea; simultaneous dates.

“How are we going to do that?” Molly asked.

“Easy, invite him back to our place, I’ll be hiding in the bathroom. You go to the toilet, I’ll swap places. Then after a while, I’ll ‘slip into something more comfortable’, and we can swap again.”

Molly wasn’t convinced but provided she’d be the one that ended up in the bed, she’d agree.

“It might get a bit awkward, though, if things start getting hot and steamy and you’re in the bathroom?”

“Noise-cancelling headphones, Sis,” Polly said.

Lewis turned out to be as hunky as his profile picture.

Polly and Lewis quickly got down to business on the couch. He began to trace the  crescent-shaped birthmark on her thigh with his finger, but Polly held his hand and excused herself nervously so she could “freshen up.”

“ SHIT! He saw it! The birthmark!” Polly wheezed as she shut the door.

“We didn’t think about that!”

Polly suddenly looked like the proverbial cat with the pigeon. “Sorry sis, you’ll have to miss out this time.”

“No, that’s not fair! Just turn out the lights!

“He doesn’t seem like an ‘in the dark’ sort of guy to me.” She pushed past, shutting the door firmly on her stammering sister.

Lewis was lying naked in the bed. Polly slipped between the sheets. Lewis looked over his shoulder as Molly slipped under the covers too, singing.

“There were two in the bed, and the little one said …make room for three!”


PS: I am not sure if the nursery rhyme I cite here is universally known. It was one my mum used to sing to me and me to my daughter. It’s a counting song and you use your fingers as you sing along.

There was 10 in the bed and the little one said

“Roll over, roll over”

So they all rolled over and one fell out (fold down one finger)

There was 9 in the bed and the little one said

“Roll over, roll over”

So they all rolled over and one fell out (fold down one finger)

And so on until you get to no-one in the bed

You can read some of my other Furious Fiction stories by clicking on the following links

Furious Fiction 6

Furious Fiction 5

Furious Fiction 4

Furious Fiction 3

Furious Fiction 2

Furious Fiction 1

 

 

Travel Mascots Part 4

The return of Iain

Several weeks ago, I reported that I had very carelessly lost Iain, my wee travel companion. I surmised that I had perhaps left him on the rooftop of my car while I packed my things or that I had simply left him on the rocks at Salen Jetty.

 

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The last known sighting of Iain

 

While devastated by his loss, I found another travel companion, Iain mac Iain. His black watch kilt and shawl at odds with the Royal Stewart tartan of his “father”. But hey, you have to make do with what you have, and I had a very generous donation of black watch tweed from my Airbnb host in Lewis.

Iain mac Iain was a valiant replacement. Forever seeking out his father, befriending other seemingly lost or abandoned travel mascots, he made it home safely to Australia after spending the better part of a month in Scotland. He had some grand adventures and has appeared in many unknown facebook posts as he was included in other people’s family snaps.

I sought the help of the good people of Salen Jetty. I messaged the shop as soon as I realised he was missing. We stayed in contact and finally the day after I flew back into Australia an Iain- sighting was made on Facebook! True to his armoury loving-self he was found sitting on top of a canon! My Salen Jetty shop contacts were quick to claim on my behalf.

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Now, three weeks after that first sighting he is here with me in Wollongong, Australia having a grand reunion with his dad! After an awkward handshake and a few minutes of small talk, it was man hugs all round!

 

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Dad!

 

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come here, Son!

Thanks to the power of the interwebs and the friendliness of a small community, we have been reunited! If you are ever in Salen Jetty, please drop in on these good folks, tell them you read the story of Iain and thank them on my behalf!

Thank you also to my friends who have joined in on Iain and Iain’s journeys, we’ve had some fun!

 

Travel Mascots Part 3

Introducing Iain mac Iain

After the tragic loss of the original Iain, I would like to introduce his wayward son Iain mac Iain. Wayward, because he has abandoned the family tartan, has a tattoo and is wearing shoes, and a utility belt.

He has cast aside family tradition and decided to wear mostly black. Perhaps it’s just an emo stage?

Despite his careless disregard for tradition, he is valiantly searching for his lost father.

As the new chief – this is his role!

Please help Find Iain!

Travel Mascots Part 3

Introducing Iain mac Iain

After the tragic loss of the original Iain, I would like to introduce his wayward son Iain mac Iain. Wayward, because he has abandoned the family tartan, has a tattoo and is wearing shoes, and a utility belt.

He has cast aside family tradition and decided to wear mostly black. Perhaps it’s just an emo stage?

Despite his careless disregard for tradition, he is valiantly searching for his lost father.

As the new chief – this is his role!

Please help Find Iain!

Travelling mascots

I have a big adventure looming with a 5-week road trip around Scotland. With less than 2 months till departure, I am madly micro-planning. My itinerary is pretty well fleshed out and I’m just filling in the fine details. I have the accommodation booked, the hire car sorted, the ferry crossings reserved and a few day trips locked in.

I will be recording Episode5 of  “Planning my Soctish Holiday ” video soon.

You can have a look at some of my previous posts in the links below

Planning My Scottish Holiday Ep 1

Planning My Scottish Holiday Ep 2

Planning My Scottish Holiday Ep 3

Planning My Scottish Holiday Ep 4

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This quick post is to introduce you to my new travelling companion – Ian – Ian of Clan Mangerton. He’s the strong silent type! In the past I have travelled with a rabbitchickens and a new set of chickens after I lost the first ones! Ian will be featuring in some of my facebook posts and will make some appearances in the blog posts I write while I am away.

Travelling mascots are always a bit of fun! He’s smaller than a gnome and can stand on his own two feet!

 

 

The other sort of mechanic

As part of my jogging route I go through a small, light industrial area to get to the beach. I walk past a brothel – relatively discrete but unmistakably a brothel. Recently, as I was out for an early morning workout, a car pulled up just as I was passing the front gate of the said brothel. I began to steadfastly study the ground, in fear of making eye contact with the customer and embarrassing us both. After all what he did at this time of the day was his business. He seemed agitated and bewildered.

“Excuse me is this Swan Street?” he said with a very heavy non-local accent.

“Yes… it’s Swan Street”  I replied quickly.

“I am looking for 108 Swan Street.”

We both turned to see the very large brass ‘108’ adorning the brothel gate.

“Well that’s it” I said pointing to the sign…. He looked very confused …

“But what is this place?”

“A brothel”  I said awkwardly.

“A brothel? What is this?” (in very broken English and with a thick accent….)

I looked to the sky for inspiration…“A sex shop.”

“A SEX shop??” A dawn of recognition came over his face.

“Yes” I said over my shoulder as I tried to walk away… He held up his phone to show me the screen

Where is mechanic

“My friend send me here – he told me it is mechanics…I come to get my car fixed”

“Well mate, you won’t be getting your car fixed here!  I think your friend might have been having a bit if a joke!”

He turned dejectedly on his heel and walked back to his car.

Was this a ruse on his part to obfuscate the fact he was just about to be seen walking into a brothel?  Or had some smart-Alec of a “friend” given him a wrong address on purpose?

Funny either way!

Too good to be true…

You’ve all heard the saying “if it sounds too good to be true it probably is…”  In my mind this article (posted in PetaPixel)  about the search for a family photographer fits that bill exactly.

Screenshot 2018-12-13 20.27.24

here’s the brief….

Screenshot 2018-12-13 20.54.01

At first thought it sounds amazing! Lots of cash, “free” travel, living the high life with the rich and famous.

Yep! Nah!

Here’s the small print they didn’t publish.

  • We need an experienced photographer who is used to using Photoshop and without an ethical bone in their body. You will need to able to take photos so that my son who usually looks like this when we are on holiday:
alkoghol-2714481_1920
from Pixabay

Looks like this

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from Pixabay

 

  • The ideal candidate will not be curious.  You will refrain from researching how the family came by its wealth.  Those photos on the mantle with all the slaves; are from a friend; they’re not ours. Oh and the shots with me with the big gun and the giraffe carcass?? Just props. It was a man dressed in a giraffe suit! Promise!
  • When I say jump! You say “How how?What ISO!”
  • I’m sure you’ll be interested in knowing what happened to our last family photographer? Well, when he tried to include some of the photos he took in his own Instagram feed, we had a bit of a laugh and then  I sent him on a very special underwater shoot with my good friends, Tony and Paulie. Funny, I haven’t seen him since then…..shame… we liked him…..

 

(I took the picture of the Monopoly board all the rest are from Pixabay)

(this post is in jest… I’m sure it would be a fabulous job!)

 

If I won the lottery.

a photo showing several lottery tickets

I have a confession to make.

I am a gambler.

I spend $AUD18 a week buying Lotto, Powerball and lottery tickets. Every week, when I go to the newsagent to check my tickets, I have that little knot of hope sitting in my belly. Maybe this time?

The $18 per week is the sum total of my gambling vice. I figure I can afford it and it’s a bit of fun so I don’t feel too guilty.  I can justify it easily. I take a packed lunch to work every day. I don’t buy coffee every day. If I did, that would be  $19 per week for the coffee alone! See! The lottery tickets are a bargain!

I have, of course, spent more than I have won. My daughter tells me I buy lottery tickets because of my working class background. Apparently, rich people don’t buy lottery tickets. They gamble in more respectable ways like the stock market or horse racing.

I don’t want to win a lot. $3 or 4 million would be plenty! I certainly don’t want to win one of those super Powerball prizes of $30 million or more! Of course, if I did, I wouldn’t be handing it back, but I don’t need it.

I don’t want to live an extravagant life. You know from my previous blog posts that I try not to be a thoughtless consumer. I just want to be able to quit the day job so I can write, travel and take photos!

I don’t want a buy a mansion with a pool or a pool room for that matter. I don’t want a Maserati. I don’t want to fly first class.  (Hang on a minute, maybe that’s one thing I do want!)

I want to win just enough to pay off my current mortgage, buy a small investment property that I could rent out as a source of reliable income and then have enough spending money leftover for a relatively comfortable and creative life. That’s not too much to ask, is it?

a handwritten note calcualtedhow much I need to win in the lottery.
How much do you need?

Let’s see: with the mortgage out of the way and keeping my living standard at its current level; with a life expectancy of 30 more years, allowing for two overseas trips per year, a new car in 10 years, and a bit of a contingency fund for new appliances and furniture when the current ones wear out or break – how much do I need? A few calculations later and not allowing for inflation or interest earned, I figure I need $2.8 million. Therefore,  $3-4 million is an appropriate goal.

I just need to win!

EASY!

 

Don’t worry, IF I did win the big one, I have it all worked out. I will buy a number of properties that I would rent to lower income families for a very moderate rate. These people would be strugglers. The people Australians call “Battlers”. Honest, hardworking folk who are being left behind in this current housing market.  There would be a catch to their lower rent, however. They would need to agree to volunteer for a community organisation for a negotiated number of hours per week. The time would be dependent on their other responsibilities but they would need to have a regular commitment to being a volunteer. They would do good. They would feel good.  I would feel good! I would need to hire some people to make this happen because I would be too busy writing, travelling and taking photos!

…. and I’d take my mum on a cruise! A long one!

A row of deck chairs. I am lying on one of them
Welcome Cruislings

Fingers crossed!