Big Moll Rules

office cleanerYou don’t mess with big Moll…

Literally. She is our office cleaner and her baleful glance takes in our slovenly habits. Dirty coffee cups littering surfaces. Food eaten at desks. Banana skins discarded in wastepaper bins.

She thumps her broom on the floor.

“Things are gonna change round here.” She points at all of us, and lights up a cigarette.

“You can’t – ”

The glare silences me. The last two decades’ no-smoking rules don’t apply to Moll.

“I’ll stop smoking when you b*****s clean up after yourselves.”

“Aren’t you supposed – ”

I fish the banana skin out of my bin.

 

For more Friday flash fiction, please visit the website: www.fridayflashfiction.com or the WordPress blogPic thanks to Leigh Marriner on flickr.

©Emma Baird 2016

 

 

 

 

 

One IS Fun

This week’s Friday flash fiction is a little wishful thinking on my part. I’ve just acquired another cat and I’ve spent the last few days stressing about it. Cats don’t need company – FACT. 

two cats“If one is fun, two must be amazing!” Alice trilled to The Cat.

The Cat regarded her balefully. Typical human. Imposing its wants on another species. Anthromo… Anthromorphos…

What was the darn word, anyway*?

The new companion arrived. Alice opened the carrier and he emerged, blinking.

The Cat sighed. Humans needed company. He didn’t. Who wanted more competition for food, water and places to sleep?

The little one sidled up. “Hey I know you are worried, but I promise it’s all going to be fine!”

Oh this was worse! If there was anything The Cat hated, it was a sook.

 

 

*Anthropomorphism – i.e. the attribution of human traits, emotions, and intentions to non-human species. It’s  considered to be an innate tendency of human psychology.

Delia’s Daughter

SONY DSC

As a life-long fan of the pint-sized pop princess, Delia was determined her first-born daughter would be named in her honour. Little Kylie Jones was duly monikered.

Two days in to motherhood (and having bored their family and friends senseless with endless entreaties to marvel at their daughter’s tiny eyes/nose/ears/fingers/hiccups) a letter arrived. It had an ominous air of officialdom to it.

“The name Kylie is trademarked!” Davy Jones exclaimed in horror. “We can’t use it.”

Delia Smith smarted: “Surely not? Surely you can’t do that, can you…?”

 

©Emma Baird 2016

 

OK, I couldn’t resist this story after reading about Kylie Minogue’s bid to stop Kylie Jenner trademarking the name Kylie. Go read the story – the legal wording of the opposition is hilarious…

Job Satisfaction

breadThe baker did her best. She sourced artisan flours from organic wheat. She hand-kneaded dough and left it to prove for a long time – often overnight.

She nurtured a sour dough starter, lovingly tending it and feeding it ever day so that she could produce the most delicious bread, rich and chewy its flavour fizzing on the tongue.

Naturally such bread did not come cheap. Her loaves were four times as expensive as supermarket squishy sponge as she referred to it.

Did you go into the business to make money, her friends asked?

No, only to make dough she was able to reply.

 

©Emma Baird 2016

A SANDWICH AT THE END OF THE NIGHT

sandwich 2A little short story for you – that could become something longer…

They met at university – that is to say, Nell was a student at university and Digby was a 20-year-old young entrepreneur who had figured out that the students who came into his High Street deli shop for gourmet sandwiches might appreciate the availability of those sandwiches at other times.

Times such as a Thursday night, post the weekly disco held in the union hall.

He had persuaded his dad to lend him the money to buy a cheap van, which he then converted into a mobile sandwich-making and preparing venue and he parked outside the union hall every Thursday from 10pm. At that time of the night, he was targeting the swotty students who weren’t prepared to sacrifice study time on a Friday for a hangover.

As the night progressed though, sales rose dramatically. He had always been a practical person and he couldn’t understand why students wouldn’t reason to themselves that they were only yards from their student halls and bedsits so why not conjure up their own sandwiches at tiny costs to themselves?

As he said to his Thursday night sandwich assistant, ‘ours is not to reason why’ (congratulating himself on the high-brow sound of the phrase which seemed imminently suitable for the university setting) as they enjoyed raking in money from the leery students who crowded round the van and demanded sandwiches, often two at a time.

Nell wasn’t a frequenter of the Thursday night disco. Not because she was a swotty type – though she had progressed well at university so far – but because she loathed not being able to hear herself think and being chatted up by drunken morons. (Her words, not theirs.) Continue reading

For the Sake of Auld Lang Syne

auld lang syneWorld leaders don’t ask me to write their speeches, but they should… Here’s what might happen if they did.

For the Sake of Auld Lang Syne

At this time of year, it’s common to reflect on the last 12 months – what went well and what could have been done better.

Who am I to flout tradition? I too shall reflect. The successes:

  1. The British public defied the polls and voted overwhelmingly in my favour. So, no more pandering (or just pretending to listen) to whingeing liberals. Bring on the public sector and welfare cuts!

2. Our economic strategies continue to triumph. Where there is doubt about Conservatives, we point this out.

3. And finally, I got my way when it comes to military tactics. Bring on the bombs!

Auld Lang Syne, Part 2

I’ve realised that I did not mention my… less than successes. This government has a fine tradition of openness so it behoves me to do so.

The wretched lords rejected our tax credits cut proposals. Honestly, talk about biting the hand that feeds! At least the multi-millionaire Lord Lloyd-Webber saw sense and flew back to vote in favour.

Then there was immigration – the fear of which we used to incite votes for us. Turns out, there are more people coming to this country than ever before. We WILL reduce this!

And… Oi, you at the back, shut up!

Oink!

 

It was really tough limiting these two stories to a mere 100 words each.