Dinner Party – Friday Fictioneers

AnElephantCant eat with chopsticks
He is less adroit than the average man so
He uses his trunk
For his food and drink
And practices a wee tune on the piano

Once again it is Friday Fictioneer time.
Presented weekly by chic chef Rochelle, who serves up a multi-course meal of marvellous messages to a tableful of tall tale tellers.
And AnAwkwardElephant picks up the crumbs.
The idea is to write a very short story, circa 100 words, based on this picture prompt (below).
That’s it.

Copyright – Marie Gail Stratford

Copyright – Marie Gail Stratford

Dinner Party

They arrive early, get the children settled down for the night.
Their new friends have a marvellous home, with top-of-the-range baby alarms throughout.
They smile at each other, quite comfortable with the arrangements.
They meet the other guests, very much their sort of people.
Their hostess serves delicious appetisers, promises a special treat later.
They all relax with an excellent wine, put the world to rights, find they have so much in common.
The time flies until dinner is announced.
Oh, this is too delicious, my dear! You must give me the recipe, what is it?
Your youngest, of course.

 

Posted in Daft Rhymes, Friday Fictioneer | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

The Ball – Sunday Photo Fiction

AnElephantCant play at football
He isn’t too quick on his feet
But he is quite roly-poly
So if he is the goalie
His team almost never gets beat

This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Alastair.
Just click on the link to see some more rounded responses to this week’s excellent prompt.
But please cast an eye over AnElephant’s sensationally sad soccer story first.

Copyright Al Forbes

Copyright Al Forbes

The Ball

The screech of brakes and the scream of tyres send him hurtling round to the front of the house.
He sees a long black car accelerating down the lane towards the main road.
He looks around wildly, sees nothing.
As the dust settles his eyes focus on the plastic football, lying squashed in the tyre tracks.
His heart flips, his stomach churns.
His world is swaying.
Then he hears the sound of a sob.
Jack!
Almost weeping with relief, he gathers his older son, still only four years old, in his arms.
What happened, son?
They burst my ball, he weeps.
The panic is still fighting its way up his throat.
But where is your little brother?
They burst my ball!
He fights to stay calm, to speak without scaring the shaking child.
We will get a new ball, I promise. Please, Jack, where is Theo?
He went to the shops with Mummy.

Posted in Daft Rhymes, Other Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

trust

trust by anelephantcant

trust by anelephantcant

she smiles at me
she takes my hand
leads me to her front door
she wipes my brow
she whispers sweet
the words that I must know

you know that you can trust me
to keep you from the rain
I always will protect you
and shelter you from pain

you know that you can trust me
my house is free from ageless crime
nothing can ever harm you
I can keep you safe from time

you know that you can trust me
you never have to worry
don’t be the slightest bit concerned
about the debt you are incurring

she flies my fears
she dries my tears
with a silken handkerchief
she makes me whole
she takes my soul
and she feasts on my belief

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

The Sheep – Friday Fictioneers

AnElephantCant ever hurt an animal
Although he occasionally sits on a cat
But it is always an accident
He does not set a precedent
He is not happy when he sees that cat flat

Once again it is Friday Fictioneer time.
Presented weekly by sultry shepherdess Rochelle, a flock of fabulous fablers present stories of ‘shear’ sublimity.
Just for ewe.
And ASheepishElephant tries to avoid baaa-aad jokes.
The idea is to write a very short story, circa 100 words, based on this picture prompt (below).
That’s it.

Copyright Adam Ickes

Copyright Adam Ickes

The Sheep

It is a difficult situation.
I mean, his time-keeping is awful.
And he is the untidiest character imaginable.
He wreaks havoc wherever he goes, leaves the store-room a mess.
He smells terrible.
But he is the best accountant I have ever met.
There is no pulling the wool over his eyes!
And I really like him, he has a great sense of humour.
But it is a question of necessity.
The recession is biting hard.
Money is tight.
The annual staff picnic is a major event in our calendar.
We always have a barbecue, so what choice do I have?

Posted in Daft Rhymes, Friday Fictioneer | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 37 Comments

Did July When You Said You Loved Me?

July by Phil Burns (and AnElephantCant)

July by Phil Burns (and AnElephantCant)

AnElephantCant always be original
Both his readers think that is hardly worth a mention
He may be a bit of a dunce
But of all thirteen or so months
The seventh is his favourite he wants no misapprehension

July is named after Julius Caesar
The chap who says Veni Vidi Vici
He may be slightly bonkers
Or perhaps likes playing conquers*
And until March he thinks life is quite peachy

AnElephantCant be a Yankee Doodle Dandy
He just ain’t a Yankee Doodle kinda guy
He is superbly Dandy
But he finds it more handy
If he is Born on the Fourth of July

But now he is domiciled in Medville
En Provence as we in France say
He must celebrate
A quite different date
The Fourteenth or Quatorze Juillet

And of course July is the month of Le Tour
Where cycling chaps are tortured for three weeks
Their legs take a pounding
Going up and down mountains
The Maillot Jaune is the prize they all seek

Even in Scotland folk head off on vacation
Traditionally they spend their time by the Clyde
In Rothesay or Ayr
For two weeks of the Fair**
Now they mostly go abroad to get fried

So July is the month full of sunshine
When the whole world makes plans to go away
But AnElephant you see
Is where he wants to be
He stays home and enjoys Bastille Day today bien fait hooray

 * Conkers is a game children in the UK play with Chestnuts
** In Scotland we call the main annual holiday the Fair, dating back to when the travelling show came to town

Posted in Daft Rhymes | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

The Boat – Sunday Photo Fiction

AnElephantCant sail in a boat
Although his cute bum is most certainly not too big for that
He does not get sea sick
He swims like a wee brick
But he simply does not have the right hat

This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Alastair.
Just click on the link to see some more rollicking responses to this week’s excellent prompt.
But please cast an eye over AnElephant’s soggy submerged story first.

Copyright Al Forbes

Copyright Al Forbes

The Boat

Have you seen this child?
As she drives through The Trossachs National Park, she glimpses the posters everywhere. She tows her little boat to the slipway on the eastern shore of Loch Lomond, manoeuvres it off the trailer, and ties it securely to the wooden pier.
When she parks her car she sees his smiling face on a tree, and wonders what his parents are going through.
As a mother herself she can scarcely imagine their pain.
The water is calm today, which pleases her, she is not a great sailor.
She putters out of the harbour, and waves to the writer sitting at the end of the jetty.
She idles at her usual spot, which she knows is over the deepest part of the loch.
And slips the small sack over the side with a smile.

Posted in Daft Rhymes, Other Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

parallel lines

parallel lines by anelephantcant

parallel lines by anelephantcant

I try not to be too despondent
remember all the hands I have kissed
but sometimes I feel my heart breaking
when I think of the chance that I missed

the time I was down at my lowest
you smiled said let me help you up
but I let stupid pride overcome me
refused even a sip from your cup

I understood you were the perfect one
the truest love I could possibly find
the touch of your hand left me exultant
but I feared how easily you bent my mind

I determined to keep you at a distance
to protect my fragile lying heart
now like rail lines that run parallel forever
we are together yet always apart

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments