Friday Fictioneers: Older to know better.

I’m on a lockdown holiday, Tiers 1 and 2 are juggling for position, Tier 1 (normal) is easy to understand, but tier 2 is massively strained, life is going down the pan, even though I stand in York and the alleyways that pass for something remotely magical, a la Harry Bloody Potter (good it’s got the nation reading, bad that it includes the adults). Rochelle is our leader in flash fiction and so for that I think we have to be grateful, J Hardy Carroll has provided the photo, lets see how the minister copes with the prose…

On My Marks…

Get Set…

GO!!!

Approaching the customs officer, they both realised their situation and begged their leave to go and flush out their systems, clean up their hand luggage and wish for the drug dog to take the bait; pheromones, making them smell of sweet spaniel shit.

Sweatily squatting in the toilet, adrenaline racing through their cardiovascular superhighway, Tom felt a moist looseness in his bowels, as Dave tried desperately not to piss on his hands.

This was no way to plan a 50th birthday trip to the Balearics, as Christine soaked herself stupid in the desperately needy cocaine beer sweats of the airport bar.

There we are another takeoff misadventure and holidays in the sun all for 100 words, so enjoy it if you can…

11 comments

  1. Well that was a disturbing story on so many levels. Well written story that makes me pretty sure I would not want to be on THAT plane trip. Assuming they do in fact make it on the plane and I would not place the odds in their favor.

    Liked by 1 person

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