Sunday short short story: Not The Wisest Of Actions by Morgen Bailey

Posted every Sunday up to today (this will be the last one for a while), the following piece of flash fiction is from Morgen’s shorter short story collection, FLASHES. We hope you enjoy this final story…

Not The Wisest Of Actions

You had no way of knowing that the toothbrush was going to find you a husband. You used it to clean your dog’s teeth but when the doctor asked how it got stuck in your ear, you had no real explanation. You’d had an itch.

It was Doug’s eyes that you noticed first; deep brown, almost black, with long, dark eyelashes and a smile… such a contrast, teeth like a photograph model’s. You would have liked him to be taller but an inch was better than same height. Your high heels could languish at the back of the wardrobe in favour of kitten, they were back in fashion anyway.

By the end of the appointment you’d arranged a date – him too shy to ask, so you had… after checking his office for family photos and his hand for a wedding ring.

A year after you were married, you’d started feeling sick, put it down to a summer cold but he recognised the symptoms and brought home a test kit. You swelled like a balloon and missed your horse, but Doug had been cautious, insisted that you take a break, so you’d agreed, on the condition that he took lessons.

And as you watched him trot round the field on Bracken, you’d fallen in love with him all over again, seen the look he’d given you that first meeting, and knew that whilst sticking a toothbrush in your ear may not have been the wisest of actions, you’d do it all over again.

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Sunday short short story: Rumbled by Morgen Bailey

Posted every Sunday, the following piece of flash fiction is from Morgen’s shorter short story collection, FLASHES,  available in e-book from Morgen’s online store where you not only get the best price but can either instantly download the collection or purchase the paperback dedicated to you or as a present! We hope you enjoy this story…

Rumbled

“Frankie!”

“What?”

“There’s someone downstairs.”

“Mmm?”

“Frankie, downstairs! I heard something.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I heard a loud noise, like a window breaking.”

“OK, stay there. I’ll go and have a look.”

“Shall I call the police?”

“Wait until we know for sure.”

“But what if…”

“It’s probably nothing.”

*

“Anyone…? Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hello Frankie. Sorry, did I startle you.”

“Gran? What you are doing down here?”

“I was thirsty.”

“Then why are you…? What’s that noise? Is there someone else here?”

“Er, it’s…”

“Gran, spill.”

“OK. Ernest. You can come out now. We’ve been rumbled.”

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Sunday short short story: Doing A Job I Love by Morgen Bailey

Posted every Sunday, the following piece of flash fiction is from Morgen’s shorter short story collection, SHORTS,  available in e-book from Morgen’s online store where you not only get the best price but can either instantly download the collection or purchase the paperback dedicated to you or as a present! We hope you enjoy this story…

Doing A Job I Love

It had felt a little odd. Being given something like this for doing a job I love. And you couldn’t really call it that. Playing in a band a job? To receive an award for playing the drums was an added bonus. I’d been given a single drum, just a cheap thing, when I was very young, my mum says two, but I think I was younger than that because I don’t remember getting it, just it being there.

When my name was announced I hadn’t been expecting it so it took Bondie digging me in the ribs for me to realise that they’d said my name. He’s stronger than he thinks. I was rubbing my ribs for weeks after that.

I think he’d been on something; weed, blow, or some such. He was always more rock ‘n’ roll than me. It hadn’t been an issue until that night, when he’d insisted on joining me on the stage. He could play the drums and had never received an award so I thought, “What’s the harm?”

If only he’d stuck to the rules; walked up the aisle, to the podium, said ‘thank you’ to the celebrity who hands you the statue (in our case it was the teen pop sensation Jimmy Penn) but his brain just couldn’t compute that. I don’t think it computes anything these days.

He had to go up there didn’t he and dig, dig, dig. OK, so we’re not a fan of the weak pop music that climbs the charts faster than we ever did in our heyday, but he’s still sore that Jimmy beat us to the top of the album chart when we released our Greatest Hits. A term I use loosely as the record company in their limited wisdom to make it a double CD when we’d only had half a dozen ‘hits’ (top forty) so the rest were more fillers than a tub of sandwich spread. That’s one thing I hadn’t noticed; that he’d not been eating, Bondie, just drinking, picking at his food, fork never reaching his mouth, although it’s big enough.

So there I was, mouth open to say a few unrehearsed words and ended up goldfish-like while Bondie spouted.

Bondie’s real name’s James… Bond, but he hates that. His mum was a real fan and we all reckon that she married a Bond just so she could have a son with the right name. Had the boy straight away, stroke of luck really, then the two of them left when he was still young. Probably why he is the way he is. Needed a father figure to straighten him out.

Anyway. He’d said his bit and I thought we were going to leave… he’d said plenty for both of us, what was I going to do, apologise? Pretend it didn’t happen? But then Jimmy called him by his real name, don’t know how he knew, Wikipedia I suppose, and well, Bondie flipped and went for the jugular, Jimmy’s jugular. Did enough so the damage was done. Only temporary, thankfully, but he had to cancel his tour. Bondie received so many “thank you” letters after we could have wallpapered our bus… the one we toured on not long after the awards ceremony.

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Sunday short short story: Stupid Is by Morgen Bailey

Posted every Sunday, the following piece of flash fiction is from Morgen’s shorter short story collection, FLASHES,  available in e-book from Morgen’s online store where you not only get the best price but can either instantly download the collection or purchase the paperback dedicated to you or as a present! We hope you enjoy this story…

Stupid Is

Billy trudged down the stairs.

“What’s the matter with you?” Emily asked.

“If only I could turn the clock back.”

“Why, what’s happened?”

“Sgt Chambers, that’s what’s happened.”

“Oh, Billy. You’ve not been smoking grass in your car again, have you?”

“No! Gave that up months ago, you know that.”

Emily gave him that ‘look’.

“OK, weeks.”

“So what happened?”

“Said I was speeding.”

“Oh, Billy.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Really?”

“OK. Thirty-eight in a thirty but everyone else does it… was doing it.”

“Just because everyone else-”

“I know.”

“I suppose if he was in an unmarked… Billy? Don’t you ever look in your mirror?”

“Yeah. Mirror, signal, brake.”

“So you only look when you’re turning?”

“Don’t need it just driving. It’s stupid.”

“Stupid is doing thirty-eight in a thirty with a police car following you.”

“I know that now.”

“You knew that the first two times. One more and-”

“I know. My licence.”

“And probably have to take your test again. You’ll be seventy next year.”

“OK, mum. I’ll behave.”

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