March 19, 2014 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a hyperbolic response to a frustrating situation (an hyperbole is an exaggeration).

Vengeance is Mine by Paula Moyer:

It had seemed so innocent – it was the 45th reunion of the little class of 1970. Jean had graduated 4th of 19. After the reunion, a small group went into Lawton, the county seat, to an oldies karaoke bar. They had just seated themselves when she saw her ex-husband. His back was turned, but she would recognize him anywhere. She signed up for a spot, flipped through the book and found the song. Her turn came. “This song is dedicated with love to Ollie,” she said simply. The song sang itself: “Cry Me a River.” He did. She didn’t

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Flash Fiction by Pete

There was a time when I knew the cashier. My groceries were bagged neatly, and for a buck they were loaded into my trunk. Today, I’m the cashier and the bagger. The machine beeps and barks at me while kids snicker and laugh. Without help, I give up and hobble out to my car.

“Oh dear,” I moan, hiding my smile. I explain my confusion with the gas and the brake. My tires are still spinning as the car sits on the toppled self-checkout register, the warbled voice repeating its mantra underneath the wreckage.

“An attendant has been notified.”

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When an Option is Bleak by Ruchira Khanna

Baseball Season has begun, and Rockies Team is kicking Dodger’s butt while giving their best shot by either bruising their elbows green on trying to catch the ball or to swing a bat to perfection with their 80 lbs. Weight, to get the score running.

Fifth inning and Rockies is stalling behind by five runs.

The Tunnel looks dark and bleak since a Failure is not far away, and that infuriates the players since drudgery was their other name as they tirelessly sharpened their skills, and worked on their shortcomings.

They have no choice, but to embrace the loss.

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Anger Ignited by Susan Zutautas

“You’ve got to be kidding me; she actually said that about me! Where the hell does that woman get off telling you anything about me? She sits there upon her high horse dreaming up tales to tell, which have absolutely no truth to them whatsoever. Does she not have a life of her own to worry about? Someone needs to stop her, and now!”

As I stormed out of the house I stopped and to grab my trusty baseball bat from the hall closet. “Enough is enough, and this will end today. God help me”, I yelled in frustration.

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Spider attack! by Norah Colvin

Arms flailing like a helicopter, eyes wide like headlights on full beam, her screeches rent the quietude.

They came running.

“What’s wrong?”

“Get it off! Get if off me!” she shrieked.

“What? Where?” they asked.

“In my hair! A spider!”

“Stay still.”

They looked.

“Nothing. No spider,” they said.

“Are you sure?” she implored. “Something ran across my cheek.”

“Maybe this?” He chuckled, untangling a wizened leaf.

She scowled.

In agreement, another leaf fluttered down.

They raised their eyebrows, smirking conspiratorially.

She stormed away, tumbling over chairs and cushions, leaving them speechless with mirth in her wake.

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Enough by Janaki

“I am going to faint. Hold me please. No…better if you bring me a glass of lemon juice. God, these joints are killing me. I need to replenish the loss of minerals in my body. I need some solid food. ufff this fatigue! I am thinking of getting my medical tests done within a couple of days. Jia, Jia…are you listening to me? No one in this house has the time for me,” Leena went on and on with her rant.

“Ma, this is your juice and pasta. Eat up. Enough of your yo-yo diets and frustration.”

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No Survivors by Charli Mills

Nan’s glasses slid down her nose as she pecked at white letters on black keys. Type faster, type faster, her mind hymned. A ding like a doll-house doorbell chimed. Nan paused to read the instant message. Responding, she glanced at digital time wasting away in the bottom right corner of her screen. No, no, focus. Seconds before the deadline, Nan’s mouse heaved like a rodent biting arsenic; the screen froze and dashed all words. Screaming, Nan hurled her computer out the second-story window, toppling the satellite internet dish and causing the fatal wreck of the Edmonds Fitz Rocket Ship.

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Anyone can write flash fiction! It’s fun, great craft practice and a way to meet other writers and readers. Please join us March 26, 2014 at noon (PST) for the next prompt.