The Friday Fictioneers’ band is tuning up. Every week a new picture, and new story, 100 words or so. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting. I appreciate your time, comments, and criticism. If you really like what you read, please share with a friend. To hear solos by the rest of the band, click on the blue frog.
Play On – 99 words
Gary’s wife bellowed down the stairs. “Would you stop that infernal racket? That saxophone’s giving me a migraine.”
“Where are you going with my hedge clippers?” Tom hollered at Britany.
“I bought a case of fluorescent bulbs just last week. Wonder where they disappeared to?” muttered Sam.
The soft green lawn is clipped with more care than the Mayor’s crewcut. The gazebo sports fresh white paint; its bird-topped weathervane gleams like the pin in his wife’s straw hat.
Few townspeople realize, and fewer still appreciate the preparation. But when the waltz floats across the midsummer evening, they all dance.