City Witty

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

“You see those?”

“I sure do.”

“Well, that’s where they’d come through.”

“Don’t think I believe you.”

“Well then, just wait and see.”

“Until when would that be?”

“Sometimes ‘tween two and three.”

“What? Are you kidding me!?”

 

“It’s the city, my friend

And this is not West End …

Alligators won’t poke their head

Till the green light’s delayed.

Sure, they value the park,

The reservoir in the dark,

And the nice scratchy spark

From a bit of tree bark …

But you’d agree it is best

To let most traffic rest

‘Fore you poke scaly breasts

Onto Central Park West.”

 

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers  –  Thanks for picking my photo of my ‘hood’!

And for those who want more … about this snippet of lore about Alligators living in the tunnels underneath the city … click on the ‘gator below …

Small Fry

eggcelent-from-todd-foltz

Photo prompt: Todd Foltz

 

“Are you sure it will work?”

Tim’s chin bobbed up and down enthusiastically.

A bit too enthusiastically. It looked suspiciously like an I’m-clueless-but-want-to-pretend-I’m-not kind of nod.

Benny frowned. He had a bad feeling about the whole plan. “I still think we should have brought a proper pan.”

“Nah,” Tim waved his hand and pointed to the ball of molten orange glaring at them from the horizon. The light shimmered. “They said it was going to be hot enough to fry eggs.”

“In the carton? Don’t you need to crack them first?”

Tim shrugged. “We can always make hard boiled ones.”

 

 

 

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Top Dweller

Photo prompt © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

She peered anxiously through the glass. He should have called someone. Who climbs up metal ladders in this frost? What if he falls? Breaks something? Who would care for him? Care for her?

She pressed a knuckle to her mouth, too afraid to call out lest her voice startled him.

“Aha!”

The sound came with a ladder-wobble and she almost screamed. How can he do this to her? He knows she cannot stand to be stressed!

A moment later his foot descended.

Wobble.

Stop.

Wobble.

Next.

Then his elbow.

With a miserable-looking kitten cradled in the crook of his arm.

 

 

 

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Up And Away

Photo prompt © Ronda Del Boccio

 

They’d waited as long as they could, but in the end had to leave without her. Or lose the opportunity.

There would be hell to pay, of course, but they should not all have to suffer the consequences of Mathilde’s tardiness. Not today.

“She’d be furious,” Wanda bit her lip.

“Yep,” Tanya confirmed. She felt bad but not sorry. Sure, Mathilde liked to make an entrance. She liked to keep others on pins and needles. Not today!

Today, for Tanya’s birthday, they lifted to the sky, burners roaring.

Was that Mathilde’s car, tiny, racing at the edge of their horizon?

 

 

 

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Enough To Share

Photo prompt © Ted Strutz

 

“I kept some for you.”

She offered the crumpled paper reverently.

“Why, I thank thee!” he bowed.

He unfolded the checkered waxed napkin to reveal two potato chips, one small bite of pickle, a tiny sliver of bacon, a dot of olive, a slightly bigger dot of pepper, and a few crumbs of tuna. There was even some mayonnaise for condiment. A feast.

She squatted and rocked back on her heels in satisfaction as he devoured the food. Her greasy fingers left marks on her slacks. She was oblivious. Mesmerized.

The elf licked long skinny fingers. Burped. “No beer, eh?”

 

 

 

 

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Out Of The Blue

Photo prompt: © David Stewart

 

The streets still shone with wet but the dome of sky stretched clear above. The wind had swept away the clouds.

She shivered even though the air was warm. Perhaps it was the damp that had her reaching for her shawl.

She hugged herself and wondered if she’d ever know whether he had left because he wanted to or because he had no other choice or because he did not know any better.

“Where are you?” she whispered.

She jumped when the fountain unexpectedly came to life and bathed the roundabout in blue.

It felt like a hello. From Hugh.

 

 

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Look Again

 

“Can you see her?” Emma rose on tiptoes and lifted her chin to add inches to her five-foot frame.

I smiled. What Emma lacked in stature, she made up for in sheer stubbornness. She felt tall.

We had parked on the far side of the marina and were approaching from behind the stage, facing the crowd. A sea of heads corralled by masts.

“She isn’t in the first row,” I noted, puzzled. Aunt Tilda was a front-row fixture in all local concerts.

“Look again,” Emma insisted. “If it’s free, you bet she’d staked her claim since the day before yesterday.”

 

 

 

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Just A Hat

Photo prompt © Jan Wayne Fields

 

She could not decide.

She knew the others were getting impatient. That they believed she ought to have made up her mind.

“It’s just a hat,” Marissa hissed, a bit too loudly to have wanted to keep Betty from hearing.

“It is,” Betty whispered. Her voice shook but she couldn’t help it more than she could stop blush from traveling across her cheeks and down her neck to meet her chest.

And yet … Mom had asked for pink … How?

Her breath hitched. No way she could admit color-blindness and not get kicked out of the new Hue You Artist Colony.

 

 

 

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Not What You Think

Photo: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

“We must hire someone to remove this eyesore,” Carolina’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Never could understand hillbillies approach to disposal.”

“We could …” Stewart noted, “but …”

“But what?” Carolina hated it when he got cryptic. If there was something people ought to be, it was clear. Riddles were for children.

“… we’d have to get something else in its stead.”

Carolina’s chest rose to magnificent proportions, but Stewart knew better. He kept his eyes on her face.

“It is a shelter entry. See? Water proof. Air tight. Easily cleaned. Earlier doors kept getting flooded. You’ll want it here, dear, come stormy times.”

 

 

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No Shoveling!

 

“I’ll just be a minute,” Benito shooed his family ahead. “Don’t want you catching cold.”

He rubbed his gloved hands together. The temperature had dropped over twenty degrees in the last few hours.

“Especially you, Junior!” he pointed at his youngest. The boy had weak lungs and had just finished another long course of antibiotics. “In you go.”

“Oh, no, you’re not!” Maria planted her feet in front of her husband. “You are coming in with us. Right now. There will be no shoveling by you today. Boss Manuel insisted. Today you are a guest. After all, it is your birthday!”

 

 

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