I love writing flash fiction. It lets me stretch my writing muscles a bit, but not feel overwhelmed. Today I wrote a flash fiction called Football Fantasy. I was required to use six words: alarm, agent, football, song, explosion, and fantasy. I’m posting it for you to read. Please give me some feedback. I love hearing from everyone. Shirley
Can it be true? Has my life long fantasy happened? When the alarm went off this morning, I knew in my heart that it would be a great day. I jumped out of bed with a song on my lips. I’m happy. I’m blessed. When the agent called yesterday about being the place kicker for the Hurricanes, I had a difficult time talking because of my excitement. Me, Amy Jackson, playing football for a professional team.
What is that smell? I don’t know how many times I’ve mentioned it to the maintenance man. He tells me the same thing every time. “I’ll get to it when I can, Ma’am”. I have to take a shower before the agent and coach arrives. That bathroom heater needs lighting. I hate that pilot light. It only works when it wants to.
Where did I put those matches? Here they are.
On page four of the Tulsa World, Sunday edition, there is a small article, which reads: Amy Jackson, the rising star of the Hurricanes, the first duel-sexed team in Oklahoma, is mourning the loss of their new place kicker. She died in her home yesterday from a gas explosion. No further details are available at this time.
All of us have rants inside of us. There are times you have to let them out or explode. There are so many wrong things in our world, but then again there are good things also. The poor and hungry child may have experienced a good thing because some nice person gave them a candy bar or it could be as simple as a loving touch from their mother.
I am sharing a poem I wrote about hunger. Let me know what your thinking after you read it.
This is an article that I wanted to share with more people because I agree with it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did. Our state and national parks are the inheritance to this nation from previous generations. By closing these public lands the states are keeping us from our own property.
Jamie Henson, and his girlfriend, Mandy are on their way to a baseball game at Drillers Stadium. They are both big baseball fans since they both have fathers who played the game. Both dad’s were in the major league. Jamie’s dad played short stop for the LA Dodgers and Mandy’s dad was a pitcher for the Cubs. Their shared love of baseball is what drew them together, in the first place.
” I can’t wait to get into the stands and start cheering,” Jamie says.
“Jamie you don’t cheer, you fuss, fume, cuss and stomp, at the umpire. You critique every call that is made, and sometimes very loudly. As many games as we have been to, you have always done the same thing. Even at home in front of the TV, you talk or yell at the umpire.”
“I just get excited when something happens. There is nothing wrong with that. You are supposed to get excited when the game is going on. Baseball is a game for the fans, so they can be part of the game. It is what makes it great.”
They get to Driller Stadium about forty-five minutes before the first pitch. They find their seats without difficulty. They are lucky because they have end row seats and a great view of the field. They settle into their seats as the crowd fills in around them.
Jamie is a large built young man. He stands about six feet four inches tall and weighs about 250 pounds. He has really broad shoulders and large biceps from lifting weights. Mandy is a petite blonde, that will weigh one hundred and ten pounds during her really heavy times. They are quite a striking pair to look at when they are together. With his size alone, one can tell he makes a big impression when he gets excited at a game.
The first pitch is thrown and it is a line drive down the third base line. Jamie is out of his seat yelling, “come on Jones, get those pitches under control.” He sits back down until another batter hits the ball to the outfield.
The first batter makes a run for home and slides in. The umpire calls him safe. Jamie is on his feet yelling, “Are you crazy ump? That guy was out by a mile. Can’t you see? Do you need new glasses old man?” Mandy looks at him but does not say a word. He just smiles and sits back down.
There is an older woman in her seventy’s sitting directly behind Jamie. She taps Jamie on the shoulder and leans forward as he turns around. “Young man, would you please stay in your seat so I can see the game? You are blocking my view and I want to enjoy the game also.”
Jamie says, “sure lady, whatever.”
“Jamie don’t you think you were a little rude to the lady?”
“Mandy, I paid good money to come to this game and I am going to watch it, just like I always do. She can scoot over a little bit and see just fine.”
Jamie continues his obnoxious behavior and the little old lady asks him again to please sit down. He just ignores her.
The little lady smiles and says “It’s okay honey, I am going to be just fine.”
Jamie gets two cups containing Coke for himself and Mandy. He hands Mandy her cup,takes a sip out of his, and places it beside him on the seat. The batter hits the ball over the back wall, and Jamie stands up, screaming as the runner makes the bases.
The little old lady has her purse in her lap and opens it up. She takes out a bottle of pills and removes two of them and leans over and places them in Jamie’s coke, without anyone noticing.
After a few minutes Jamie sits back down and picks up his Coke and takes a long drink. “It is hot out here today, this Coke is really hitting the spot.” Mandy agrees and goes on watching the game. She is upset over Jamie’s obnoxious behavior, and is not talking to him very much.
Jamie finishes his Coke, and continues to watch the game. He begins to feel very sleepy and can’t keep his eyes open. He tells Mandy he is having trouble staying awake.
“Put your head on my shoulder and close your eyes for a couple of minutes and maybe you will feel better,” Mandy says. Jamie puts his head on her shoulder and drifts off.
Several plays happen on the field, and Jamie keeps his head on Mandy’s shoulder. The little old lady leans towards Mandy and says, “honey don’t worry about him, he is going to be fine. I just put a couple of my Xanex in his coke to help him calm down.”
Mandy’s mouth fell open and the little old lady sat back and smiled. She watched the rest of the ball game without any problem.
The moral of this story is, don’t stand when you are supposed to be sitting or it could be strike three, you’re out.
It is six pm here in Plano, and I knew I wanted to get my blog posted before it got to late. I could not break my resolution to blog everyday, on the very first day. I am going to blog about my favorite subject to talk about, my husband.
My husband has had his tail superglued to the sofa with a football game all afternoon. My husband is a ball fanatic. Let me explain. He will watch anything that has a ball in play, no matter what the sport. This fascination with a ball started as a young boy in Philadelphia. He would go to a baseball game with his uncle and watch his team play. As he grew up, he became involved with basketball. He graduated from Wake Forest and was hooked on football. Then he proceeded to attend The University of Virginia and bought season tickets for the football stadium for twenty-five years. He also attend the ACC basketball tournament every year for over twenty-five years.
He gets into Hockey, and Lacrosse, golf. What ever happens to be on the television. Much to his disappointment I am not a sports fan. I prefer to read books, knit, write, cook, anything but watching sports. He can start at ten o’clock in the morning and keep watching until the last game goes off the air. I think this makes me a sports widow or is it a ball widow?
I use to fuss at him, now I just go do my own thing and let him overdose all his wants. There is a chance his work will be transferring him to Virginia. His first words talking when telling me of the possible transfer where, “oh, if that happens I can get my season tickets back.”
Tonight he will break long enough from the bowl games to eat his black-eyed peas and sauerkraut and pork. We are a blended couple, one from the North and one from the south. That explains the mix of New Year tradition which quickly fits in between the ball games.
I hope everyone has a blessed 2011 and if there are any more ball widows, or men who would like to defend themselves, I would like to hear from you.