Friday Fictioneers: Cellar Confusion

It’s a funny old year isn’t it, but the vaccine is being rolled out (in the UK at least) and despite not being in the top 9 groups, the news seems to point to the rest of us spring chickens being done by the end of June!! Whoop Whoop!! But until then and since this time last year and before then obviously the amazing Rochelle has been steering the Good Ship FF through choppy waters and the doldrums keeping us entertained and engaged more importantly. You have provided a wonderful public service and I am forever grateful. This week the photograph comes from Super Dale Rogerson an experienced campaigner in the fight against insanity as we talk to our dogs and cats and latterly wheels bins. This better stop soon!!

So 100 words, with a beginning a middle and an end, based on the picture below. So…

On My Marks…

Get Set…

GO!!!

Pretty much everything he thought he remembered from his youth was dead or no longer sentient. As he sprayed the roses with “snow-in-a-can” he tried to recall why he bought the stuff and why he was doing it in Decemburary. The hoovering up in Marpril was such a pain.

He would throw it in the cellar which was now full of the stuff, he was sure there was something important he’d kept down there, but the stench was too bad, so searching for whatever it was would be nauseous.

He had a wife once, and wasn’t there a cat too?

There we are a tale of a confused old man in a dystopian world where nothing is real, and its 100 words on the nose. Boom!! 

25 comments

  1. Dear Shrawley,

    Strawberry Fields…nothing is real…and nothing to get hung about…I echo the words of someone else, “disturbingly funny.”
    I’m a bit higher on the list here for the vaccine…no spring chicken but not ready to be put out to pasture.
    Thank you for your sweet words in your intro. 😀 That’s the kind of thing that makes keeping Friday Fictioneer afloat worthwhile.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle
    Rochelle

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I think he has been sniffing the ‘snow-in-a-can’ too much.
    I like the idea of talking to wheelie bins. Imagine the argument as to which bin you put things – you’d be standing there all day, before the sanity lorry appeared.

    Like

  3. You did manage to crack a laugh… in a holy crap kinda way… Hopefully, the smell down there is from natural causes and not by his hand – then again, it would explain his losing his marbles…

    I can’t even picture when my turn will come for the shots. They seem to be rolling them out a snail’s pace here. We really need to start producing our own – which is why we are last on the list…

    Like

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