Intolerable – 100 Word Fiction

When my friend opens her mouth, hatred and ugliness comes flying out. I look at my wife who mirrors my quizzical expression and we wonder how one person could hate everything so much? True, she’s not rich, but certainly not poor either. She isn’t an ugly woman. She has a loving husband, nice children and a few wonderful grandchildren.
Perhaps age is creeping into her mind and she’s feeling mortal.
Has she been angry for so long that it just seems normal or does she just enjoys being angry.
I have to wonder, does she care that she’s becoming intolerable?

Non Inspirational Quotes

You hear some pretty strange things while checking people out. If I ever held any hope for the future of mankind, well…

“Last night, the internet was down for over 30 minutes. I mean, the world could have ended and I would never have known about it.” – A 17 year old co-worker talking to another employee.

“I’m tired of being broke all the time.” She tweeted from her $2000 phone. – a twenty something wife talking to her friend while waiting in line to purchase $300 dollar shoes.

“The lines are always so long in this store and I refuse to use the self-checkout. I don’t work for this store. Next time, I’ll just order it from Amazon.” – A 60 year old woman talking to her husband.

All Aboard…

It made no difference if it was a family vacation or headed to the grocery store, my mother would plan it out to the smallest detail, barking out instruction that would make any Drill Sergeant proud, while my dad checked the tires and looked under the hood. Seating arrangements created to resolve sibling conflict; snack strategically placed within her reach.
“Anyone need to go to the bathroom?”
“Everybody have their purses, money, comb?”
“Last chance because once we start moving, we aint stopping.”
After about fifteen minutes into the trip, “Shoot Arlie, I think I left the coffee pot on.”

What’s Taking so Long…

Image by sandid from Pixabay

A long time ago, just after people found out the world isn’t flat; we got our news from something called a newspaper. ‘The Carrollton Daily Democrat’ or ‘morning coffee rag’ as we called it, was printed on large sheets of paper, thrown on the back of a truck and hauled off to some poor ‘smo’ who would ride his bike through the freezing rain at the butt crack of dawn to toss it up onto the roof or into the neighbor’s yard. But sadly, as time progressed, we found ourselves unable to wait a few hours for our news of ‘world destruction’, ‘what stupid shit did Trump say today or ‘what’s J-Lo up to these days’. So we turned to technology to deliver us from our boredom.
Now I get my news a thousand times a day in 140 character bursts. I’m still just as confused as I was back then and now I don’t have anything to put in Tweeties cage.

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