A Story In
100 Words
Literature in Tiny Bursts.
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A Diner Problem
Ralph and Rayette were at breakfast, with Ralph treating. He called the waiter over to their booth with its plywood table top.
“Is something the matter?”
“I'll say...Rayette, here, just saw another fly by her oatmeal."
Ralph had the eggs, and Rayette the oatmeal.
“What kind of place is this that has so many flies?”
“Many? What’d you mean by ‘many’?”
Rayette said she saw about five, maybe six of them.
Dismissively the waiter frowned.
“Six? You think six flies is a lot? You should see the number of ‘em in the kitchen...Especially around the pot of oatmeal.”From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Breakfast
“Mel, you don't happen to have any rat poison on you, do you?”
“What'd you mean by that?”
“Well...it's a kind of poison that you use on...”
“I know what rat poison is, Ed.”
They were at the counter of AL'S DINER, eating their breakfasts.
“You don't need to get upset.”
“Look, Ed, I'm trying to finish my oatmeal.”
“I know. But I asked Marge already.”
Marge was the waitress.
“She said they didn't have any to take care of the rat that's been running around the place this morning.”
“What?”
“The one there...That one, by your foot.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
Ed's Choice
“If you were a fly, Ed...”
“What'd you mean, a fly?”
“I'm just asking.”
They were at AL'S DINER. The waitress had not yet taken their orders. Ed knew his flies. That's why Mel asked.
“So, if you were a fly, would you go for the scrambled eggs or Al's oatmeal?”
“A fly, huh, Mel?”
“Yeah… Just a regular house fly.”
“Well, I guess the eggs. Now, of course, a horse fly...That might be different.”
“Nah...I'm only interested in regular flies, Ed. I don't see that many horse flies, compared to the usual house flies, in here today.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
The Present
“Are you okay, Ed?”
To relieve the pressure, Ed tugged on his undershirt collar. He and Mel were at the counter of AL'S DINER.
“My Aunt...”
“What?”
His words came haltingly.
“Aunt Edna...”
Each holiday, she gave the constricting presents.
Before Ed, they went to Uncle Fred. The poor man suffered from the waist down. After the holidays, he always had trouble with his privates.
Always Edna's too-tight underwear.
“Your throat, Ed? Can you swallow the oatmeal?”
His jugulars stood out.
He twisted awkwardly on the swivel seat.
His throat?
His undershirt?
“It's not the throat I'm worried about, Mel.”
From Guest Contributor David Sydney
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