A temporary halt to the Jobless 55 / Slightly schizoid

“You’ve been unemployed for 5 months?”

“Erm, yeah.”

“What on earth have you been doing so long, you jobless mofo?”

“A little bit of volunteer work at Dream A Dream and a lot of chillin’ at home”

“Don’t get bored ‘chillin’ at home’ by yourself?”

“I am somewhat interesting to hang out with, you know.”

Five and Five.

Does your job suck? I awaken clients every morning, at 6am, and conduct conversations with them. Some of them are most demanding…

Today my manager said that I was not sufficiently lucid or awake, incompetent, could not make intelligible conversation and was flippant.

What do they expect at 6am, a critique of Nietzsche and Nihilism?

~x~o~o~x

It's been a while...

Fifty and Five

I decided to try a different 55-word post today. Hence, this is a continuation of Gaurav's 55-Fiction Chain Story.

.oOo-oOo.

She’d found it difficult to sleep last night. His piercing gaze, his deep voice, his shaggy, unkempt hair, grizzly stubble and his firm shake had left their indelible marks.

She was done with the pretty boys.

Stretching for her phone, she gasped, realizing she’d left it in the bloody taxi. And with it, his number.

.oOo-oOo.

And Chamique takes it forward.

So on and so forth...

Flash 55.

She watched her daughter's frantic hands spill the crayons onto the floor. Purple and blue wouldn't do. Lavender was what she wanted.

How they both missed him. How he would have loved the drawings on the fridge.

He had always been the one with taste. Boldly metrosexual. Distinguishing heather from lavender.

Bloody stupid drunken driver...

-o-x-o- -o-x-o- -o-x-o-

Posted in reply to this by Chamique.

Jobless 55

Stories of unemployment. Not always fiction but 55 nevertheless. Maybe I'll do more posts, wait and see.

“So how was the interview?”

“Kinda decent. He offered me the position within some 20 minutes of meeting me.”

“And?”

“He wrote a figure on a paper – and I told him that I was looking at a significantly higher number.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Also, uh, I asked him to think about it and get back to me.”

Five and Fifty.

"Everyone’s asleep; let’ s go."
"In a plane toilet? You sure?"
"Yes. This one's empty. No one's looking, you go first."
"It’s cramped. Let me sit down."
"Have you got it?"
"Yes."
"Quick! Get it out now."
"Perfume - you always think of everything."
"Hit me! Harder! And again!"
"Sigh… Thank you. That was wonderful…"

~o-x-x-x-o~

And Chamique has replied here.

And Deep has replied to Chamique here.

Anyone else to take it forward?

As an aside, do read this post by Falstaff where he ponders on how "airplane lavatories would be the perfect place to kill yourself."

My 55.

Neptune was tired of these hairy biped mammals invading his world, raping his children and pillaging his garden. And now this; they’d found the source of his everlasting youth and of Amphitrite’s beauty.

“No more!” he thundered.

As he sent Carcharodon onwards and upwards to do his bidding; she gently lowered herself into the water…

---

Posted in reply to this from Chamique.

And Recluse has replied to this here.

Early 55.

Dear Readers,

Chamique has pre-emptively posted her 55-word fiction (Early 55) for this week. As I am currently going nowhere, my reply will be up tomorrow.

I do hope we can keep the tag going 'round the block...

See you on the other side of Thursday.

Yours,

Bangalore Bytes

55. Updated.

Here is the story as it has unfolded thus far:

Bangalore Bytes.

Chamique.

Recluse.

Dibyo.

Deep.

Dhoomketu.

The Invizible Man.

And the now obligatory porn...


Thanks ya'll! Will someone conclude the story now?

Fifty. Five.

The airplane had been airborne an hour when she entered the toilet. She looked into the mirror and hated the girl of twenty going on sixty that she saw. The horrors she had seen and the family she had lost….

She mixed lip-gloss with Vaseline, stuck her mobile in the goo and walked out.

Slowly…


And Chamique has replied here.

Once you've read the reply above, please read the continuation that Recluse has provided here.

This is getting to be so much fun!

And once you've read what Recluse had to say, do read Dibyo's post here.

This really is fun! Anyone else?

And to answer the question, Dhoomketu picks up the thread from where Dibyo left off. Read his post here.

More! More! More! (...and ignore the porn in the comments below.)

One more, from The Invizible Man, read his entry here.

Someone to finish the story then?

Friday. 55.

He looked down upon the Earth, shining blue, green and brown, a glistening orb awakening to the first rays of the yellow sun.

They were his people, yet he’d never belong. They needed him but didn’t accept him as one of their own.

But so long as they needed him, he’d be there.

Waiting, watching...


Chamique has replied here.

Reader Submitted 55-Word Stories.

This flash fiction post generated a couple of good 55-word compositions that deserve main page airtime.

Anonymous posted this in response to Seeker's question as to whether he was"...looking for a violent story in 55 words everytime? Or porn perhaps? Maybe thriller? Psychothriller? Sci fic? 55 words is restricting on such ambitious plots."

He loaded the bazooka with a plasma missile; the spacecraft had come to an abrupt halt.

Looking at Leila, he took her one last time, his lusty manhood plunging deeper than ever before, looked her in the eye and stepped out to meet the unknown.

And then she saw the tentacle creeping up behind him…

Recluse posted this in response to Seeker's earlier question on whether "... this still two way or three way now?"

Girish watched him go and turned to the others.

"Well?" said Ravi.

“Let's call some girls and go out” said the smoker solemnly.

They all laughed.

"The usual, then" said Seeker.

They nodded.
-------------

Thirty minutes later, they were clustered around at the cafe. A 55 flashed on the dim screen.

“I'll be Anonymous” said Girish.

Good stuff! Keep 'em coming...

55 Fiction

She passed by them in a cloud of floral perfume that only exacerbated the taunting. He’d kept his silence for far too long, turned to them and asked them to stop.

Girish asked if he loved her. He said, “I once did….”, punched Girish and hurried after her.

They had some catching up to do…


Posted in reply to this by Chamique.

Flash Friday

As the sun set on the cityscape, he vaulted out of his happy reverie and commenced his nocturnal rituals.

To dress in freshly laundered whites, gird the loose ties of his battledress, guard his lustrous crown with protective headgear, sharpen his knives and to arrange his mise en place.

The bistro had opened for dinner…

-----
And Chamique's response really does improve this one! Merci, cher dîneur!

Fifty Five.

The fridge was bare, as was the larder. It only reflected the emptiness that her absence had caused.

She took everything they had; he was the fool for believing her when she said, “until death do us part”.

But more than anything else, he missed the pitter-patter of tiny feet echoing in the hallways.


Update:

Chamique has posted a reply. Fun this is!

55. Redux.

Tears streamed down his face as he hung up.

Accepting that he'd never escape the living memories her voice had wrought. Knowing no matter how far he ran, he'd never escape the love they shared.

But she did what she had to do; created in her a monster that broke through the rules of love.

Posted in reply to this by Chamique.

Friday's 55

Nobody understood him; he'd had a hard and unfair life. One life that had broken him, misery his only companion. The strip club was a momentary escape from the cruel world he inhabited. He could have had class, he could have been a contender, he could have been somebody
instead of the bum he was.

Written in response to this from Chamique.

With due apologies to Marlon Brando...