How Now Meow Flash Fiction contest-results-FINAL

These are preliminary results. Winner posted Monday afternoon!

 
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Special recognition for getting the correlation of the prompt words

Amy Johnson

and Michael Seese, for not getting them but making me laugh anyway.

Nominees for the Steve Forti Award for Amazing Use of Prompt Words

Steve Forti

“Pita? You got a screw loose. Wonder bread? Forget it.”
“Okay, how about a wrap?”
“Ugh. You ask for a wrap, I think you're dense. It isn't able to stand up to the sauce.”
“What then? Rye?”
“R-rye!? Are you insane, man? This ain't corned beef. It's a meatball sub!”
“Then what, just an Italian roll?”
“Just? Just an Italian roll? It's a classic for a reason. It's perfect. And if I really want to do it right, I'll toast it.”
“Geez, you're crazy about this.”
“Crazy delicious.”

Not quite a story, but utterly lovely

Dena Pawling

She kindled a fire on tabletop mountain
Raising her hands
From the abundance of joy
Praising the gods
For the birth of her Henry

She kindled a fire on tabletop mountain
Raising her voice
From the deep ugliness of grief
Pleading with the gods
For the life of her Henry

She kindled a fire on tabletop mountain
Raising her fist
From the pit of despair
Cursing the gods
For the death of her Henry

She kindled a fire on tabletop mountain
Raising her eyes
From the wisdom of experience
Thanking the gods
For the gift of her Henry

Not quite a story but holy moly!

RKeelan

First scotch, then rye.

Neither helps.

I take another look at the note. The handwriting is still mine.

I found it by the fireplace, a few crisp words announcing my intention to kill myself.

The thought of dying is repugnant, but my other self must feel differently.

I used to pity her suffering, now I despise her selfishness. I wish she would kill herself—if only she wouldn’t take me with her. I hope she knows that.

#

Pills lay spilled across the tabletop.

I claw at the bottle. What does the label say?

Anti-psychotics.

Not quite a story, but gripping as hell!

Madeline Mora-Summonte

Dearest Husband,

If you find this, please know I did not go quietly. But the enemy I was pitted against was entrenched, formidable. Familiar.

Do not blame yourself, Henry. You worried about leaving us. You said business could wait. I insisted we were fine.

I do hope it brings you some peace to know the children will not suffer. They sleep like angels. The tablets worked. Sometimes to stop ugliness, one must do unthinkable things. Or so the voices tell me.

I must go now, my love. It is time to light the fire.

Your devoted wife,
Lydia

Here the stories that stood out for me

Barbara

Henry discovered the tablet in the fire pit. Strange markings covered its surface. He took it to his friend, Clay.

"It's Sumerian cuneiform," Clay said.

"Sumerian? The first civilization on Earth? What does it say?"

"You won't believe it," Clay said.

"Is it how they invented the wheel?"

"No."

"The plow? Writing?"

"Neither."

Henry gaped. "Dear God! It proves they really were created by Annunaki gods from outer space?"

"Afraid not." Clay cleared his throat. "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

"No," Henry said, as Clay continued.

"To escape the farting pug. Seems they even invented the first riddle."

This just cracked me up.
I often confess to having the sense of humor of a 12-year old boy, and this just proves it.
The writing is terrific and taut as well.

Colin Smith

When Ryan fired me, I called him a repugnant rapscallion. A table-thumping tramp. A hood, a heel, a hoodlum, and a pitiable putrid profligate poser. I told him he could take his wretched wastrel work and thrust it where the helioic sphere does not radiate its resplendent rays.

He told me to remove my ungrateful, unguent, ulcer of a body from his edifice of endeavor, and find myself an alternative avocation.

The conflagration in the refuse receptacle was an afterthought as I evacuated his smoldering premises.

I never really wanted to work for Roget in the first place. Bombastic boneheads.

This made me laugh out out, and "bombastic bonehead" is my new favorite phrase. Honestly, Colin could start writing for the Spiro T. Agnew Memorial Speech Writing school after this.

Nate Wilson

Dear Liza,
There's a hole in my bucket.
Henry

Dear Henry,
I'll fix it. Swing by the stable tonight.
Liza

Liza,
I'm not driving a leaky bucket through atmo, babe.
Come to my hab.
Henry

Don't "babe" me, you repugnant bastard. That was one time only.
No house calls.
Liza

Such a spitfire! Love that about you. Among other... qualities. Meow.
I'll saunter over.
Hengry for More

Yee-ech. Offer retracted. You come at your peril.
L


Dear Liza,
There's a hole in my spleen. You'll hear from my lawyers.
Henry

Dear Henry,
It matches your bucket. Go to hell.
Liza

I'm a sucker for these kinds of off-beat entries. This one of course benefits from being familiar; the hole in the bucket song that kids learn in first grade music class.  Of course, Nate put his own spin on it, and it made me laugh.

I guess the funny entries are doing pretty well today!

John Davis Frain

K-9 rounds up the usual suspects. Enters names into her tablet.

Jimmie Three Paws. Muttley Crue. Their leader, Great Catsby. And the new cat on the block, Fifty Shades of Clay.

As an afterthought—the human, Mrs. Henry.

“Start barking,” K-9 commands.

“Heyyyy,” Catsby purrs.

Hours later, pugnacious Chief stomps in. “Confession?”

K-9 shakes her muzzle.

“When’s this end?” Jimmie asks.

Chief nods at Mrs. Henry. “Ain’t over till the cat lady sings.”

“What’s the crime?”

Clay thinks, erecting a statue in a dog park.

“Vandalism,” Chief spits.

Jimmie shuffles three paws. Swallows. “I thought it was a fire hydrant.”

Talking cats and dogs, plus puns! Honestly, it doesn't get better than this!

Claire Bobrow

Publishing intern by day…
Black Panther by night!
Who would ever suspect pitiful milquetoast Clay, always hiding under chairs and slinking about the office, afraid of water and pug dogs?
But when the sun went down and a tsunami of sin struck Gotham City…
Hiss!
Claw!
Me-ow!
No one could stop the Black Panther.

So he’d play along until they fired him.
Purr.
Pretend to enjoy traipsing on tablets and cluttering keyboards.
Even reading queries, like the one he’d napped on today.
No O’Henry, that author, but still…
The Secret Life of Walter Kitty had distinct possibilities.

This one is Clay the kitten's favorite (as relayed by Intern Kim). Not surprising since it reveals he's a superhero by night! I love the word play, and the dexterous writing.

Honestly, this was really hard. I loved all these a lot.

In the end I had to agree with Clay (and Kim) that Claire Bobrow's stood out.  Congrats Claire! Your prize is a copy of Word by Word by Kory Stamper.  I loved that book a lot and hope you will too. If you've already gotten a copy let me know. Drop me an email with your preferred mailing address.


Thanks to all of you who took the time to write and post entries this weekend. It was great fun to read your work. The depth of talent on this blog is rather frightening!






 Let me know what you think, and if an entry you thought should have been mentioned got left out.