I had a terrible time picking one winner.
All of them had something delicious for the flash fiction buffet.
In the end though, I just had to pick NLiu. Her entry, from the POV of a Yorkshire pudding, was just too tasty.
N, if you'll drop me a line and confirm your mailing address, we can talk about what kind of book will knock your sox off!
Thanks to all of you who wrote and posted entries.
This was a terrific round and you provided some wonderful weekend reading.
(Last week's contest results are done, I just need to get them organized and posted. My plan is to get them up
This week was fiendishly hard for so many of you! I love it!
Herewith the entries that stood out.
I knocked off my cafeteria shift and came home to a double-wide catastrophe.
My live-in toad-in-a-hole, Brigid, was inconsolable and beside herself. Half herself to be exact, after coming upon her Siamese toad, Brigitte, splayed supine and floating in a vat of Vitalis®, drowned in the kitchenette sink by some transient trailer park Elvis wannabe.
Her ribbetts are now silenced, but attention must be paid. She got all shook up but went out in style, her chonky rear end rockabilly D.A.’ed and warts emolliated for her celestial duet with The King at that Graceland in the sky.
Not quite a story, but how can I resist double-wide catastrophe?
And I may never recover from the image of her Siamese toad Brigitte.
Real talent here, a writer to watch!
"This one is vital, " Roger said. "Loser buys lunch."The pun alone makes this worth a shout-out.
"Cafeteria," Kyle said. “I’ve only got ten dollars.”
He swung. The ball bounced onto the green and rolled towards the flag.
"Yes!" Kyle said.
"No!" Roger moaned as the ball dropped.
"No way!" screamed Kyle as the ball popped out and rolled away.
His caddy ran forwards. "Toad-in-the-hole!"
"They're prone to that when it's hot." Roger smirked.
"This one's supine," the caddy said, removing it, "but no matter, it'll be a cinch on Kyle's part to sink it now."
Kyle, shaken, missed the putt. Toadily bad luck.
“That’s what’s up!” Ines exclaimed, as she jumped into the car. The cafeteria heist had gone without a hitch. Coffee, donuts, $52 cash; our biggest haul yet.
The headlights illuminated just enough mountain road to avoid the steep cliffs, when, suddenly…
Ines squealed in a panic, “Honk, you nincompoop!”
The guardrail crumpled noisily.
Yelling, “Mazeltov!” I tallied our chances of survival, as the car turned into an airplane minus the wings. The tally added up to negative 100%.
I tried to explain, “There was a toad in—“
“A-hole,” she fumed.
Ines despised profanity—albeit only for another 12 seconds.
The mason jar lid cut a perfect hole in the bread. I cracked the egg and fried it up without breaking the yolk. She watched supine from the couch.
“Toad-in-a-hole, honey.” I brought her the plate. “Try to eat.” She took it without emotion.
Back in the hospital, she drifted off, and I ran for cafeteria coffee. She was paralyzed from a silent panic attack when I returned. I stayed in her view under the vitals display after that.
On our living room couch, she said a quiet “chonk-you,” with a mouthful of eggs and cried.
Nice prompt word usage here for chonky!
Silence ruled the cafeteria. Lights flickered, disrupting an otherwise calm darkness. Lying supine upon a table, a figure quivered, jaundiced and withering. Memories flitted through their mind-- betrayal, loss, swirling in a slurry of thoughts. Of a past abandoned, a future lost. Shivers blasted through the jaundiced one's psyche, turning it into naught more than some horrific mental toad-in-the-hole. What could have avoided this fate-- this life as discarded refuse? Was it an unappealing mien? Foul scent? Nutritional value beyond making someone chonky?
No matter. The banana whimpered, awaiting its inevitable decay on the cold table. A vital food, forgotten.
This isn't quite a story, but who cares. I don't think we've ever had an entry in the POV of a banana peel.
And I know it says nothing good about me that I laughed out loud at "jaundiced".
Charles straightened his bow tie. Pushed up his glasses. Ignored the smirks from the short order cooks.Notice Colin doesn't explain the why?
Checked his wallet.
“Eggs and toad-in-a-hole, please,” he said to one of them.
“How d’you like your eggs?”
“Sunshine supine. Is the toad-in-a-hole chonky?”
“Is that important?”
“Vital.” Charles grinned, wide-eyed.
“Coming right up.” Charles noticed the eye-roll.
He ate the eggs. Glanced at the cooks. Slipped a metal rod into the chonky sausage. Left the cafeteria.
Charles watched the explosion. Pushed up his glasses.
Checked his wallet.
Exed a face in the picture.
“One down, ten to go.”
This is a whole new spin on diabolical.
“Hey man, s’up?”
“I need your movie review.”
“Mate, you ain’t swearing an affidavit. All I want’s an opinion.”
“Truth? Something’s missing. Story’s good, alien’s interesting, though maybe too chonky. But it’s bland. Lacking some bite. It’s like Decaf ET.”
“Er, I already submitted it to the studio. What would you have changed?”
“Just lacks pizzazz.” The waitress drops off their order. “Like this toad-in-a-hole. Imagine it were made with hot dogs. It’s kinda right, but it just ain’t right, ya know?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Think of it like if this conversation were a piece of flash fiction.”
Hallie and Jackson had been friends since they were pups. Now in were-wolf high school, Jackson wanted more.supine lupine canine!
Hallie gagged at the cafeteria menu. “Toad-in-a-hole again?”
Jackson nodded. “You’re right.”
“Yes. That chonky casserole is awful. It’s vital we stand against unhealthy slop! I’m protesting.”
He dropped onto his back with his feet in the air.
Other kids joked and laughed.
“Look, a supine lupine canine!”
“He wants Hallie to rub his belly.”
Hallie whispered, “Get up, Jackson. It’s okay.”
“Not today.” She helped him up and nosed him. “My hero.”
He grinned. It worked!
Alex 7:28: lol no, I am literally supine with hunger
This was his chance. Quick, engage Bromance Protocol. But--cafeteria closed, Vitality Bowls "feel chonky", diner...?
Alex 7:41: no those jerks refuse to make toad-in-a-hole
Jay 7:42: ok sit tight I got u
7-11: eggs, bread, something vaguely buttery
McD's drive thru: just salt packets, please
Chem lab: bunsen burner
Jay 9:12: hope you're not too hungry, on my way
Alex 2:05: oh hey I just saw this. grabbed a bite w El in Chinatown. see you in lab tomorrow. hope we get to do something fun w the burners.
You can just hear the anguished existential howl can't you?
The Oragami Cafeteria had been given a makeover. Soothing colours, rustling bells, and a chonky cat purring in the corner. The customers were in a supine position now being fed cardboard toad-in-a-hole through paper straws.
Marian was cut out for this, looked happier than ever; vital, even- jazzberry jam red crayon blots on her once pallid cheeks.
For now she could ignore the jagged edges of the problems she had folded into her trouser pockets.
oh my godiva.
This isn't really a story, but oh my godiva.
Lola had been lying supine on the itchy velveteen settee for hours, while the latest David Bailey wannabe clicked away, imprisoning her vital statistics on the memory stick.
‘Darlin’ can I move? I’m desperate for the loo and the cafeteria?’ Lola sat up and her chonky boobs bounced in different directions. ‘I want my lunch. You said, your shout?’
The twenty-year-old Bailey wannabe and the MILF headed for the canteen.
Lola’s eyes lit up as she spied her favourite food. ‘Toad-in-a-hole-Brigid, darling . . .’
The male sexagenarian food server scowled. ‘Who you calling Rigid? I’m as bendy as they come.’
Who you calling Rigid...I'm STILL laughing
"I'm sorry. What?"
"We cram a chonky toad into one of their holes. Like, a nostril. Or an ear. Or, my preferred cavit—"
"A little extreme."
Some ideas deserve to die. And some ideas should be murdered. With malice.
"What if we let them pick the orifice? You know, cafeteria style."
"Fine. Here's another. We tie them down, supine, get a frog—"
"Thank you. I'll be in touch."
Three months, two days.
Three months, two days until I retire from my position as Minister Of Torture. Then I can return to my true calling as a literary agent.
"And some ideas should be murdered. With malice."
I may have this printed on my business cards.
Vita lurched past on the arm of her latest trick. Cock-o’-the-walk, that one. They paused in the neon glow while Vita fumbled her plastic purse, then cursed.
Cedric’s heart leapt when she clattered through the office door.
“Whassup? I'ne…” A giggle bubbled up. “I’ma l’il tipsy, ‘n’ I can’ fin’ my key. Cedric, hon, k’you lemme in?”
“Click“ went the lock and “clunk” went Cedric’s heart.
“Thanks, pal,” winked the flash-in-the-pan. “She’s a coupla lunch-ladies shy of a cafeteria.”
“You’re sweet,” Vita cooed. “A real prince.” A kiss brush Cedric’s knobbly cheek.
Poof! Another happy ending at the Toad-In-A-Hole Motel.
"a coupla lunch-ladies shy of a cafeteria.” is pure brilliance
“Dad, why do you call this place, The five-day old toad-in-a-hole Cafeteria?”Love love love the reference to old style diner lingo.
The unamused waitress turned to the father, “And for you, your lordship?”
“Scrambled eggs and bacon, on toast please,” he looked at her contritely, then glared at his son. She jotted it down, turned toward the cook, and with a voice as smooth as barbed wire, bellowed, “Adam and Eve on a raft… wreck-em!”
“And you, little Lord Fauntleroy?”
“A chonky hamburger patty, resting supinely on a bed of lettuce, and to pair it with vitality… a cola.”
“Mad cow, rabbit food, and paint stripper!”
She left… smiling.
Writing from home was difficult. But the manuscript wouldn’t write itself, so Jane huddled in the ensuite, typing madly on her phone.surreptitiously supine on him--gotta love Otto!
“Ronald was cheating; Betty could feel it. She eyed likely suspects in the packed cafeteria.
Ronald had craved Toad in a hole - some comfort from home - but Betty preferred pizza so had begged off. But it was someone here, she knew it. Betty needed vital evidence, so here she was, surreptitiously supine on him.”
Supine? Autocorrect fail!
Her chonky digits couldn’t keep pace with her thoughts again! Jane sighed. A return to normalcy could not come soon enough.
I'm so famous they have to police the queue. Everyone wants a piece of me. This is the real gravy train. All I have to do is relax, supine and splendiferous, as they press greedy faces against the glass. It's vital I look my best: crisp sheets, perfect tan. Cafeteria lights do no one favours - not even this fabulous, chonky figure.
Toad in a hole? Try sausage au pudding du Yorkshire, darling. Muah!
Just don't mention cutlery and we'll all live happily ever after.
"everyone wants a piece of me!"!!
"just don't mention cutlery"!!
I haven't a clue who to select as the winner.
Notice I don't even have a list of finalists?
I'm in a dither here.
Help me out. Who should get the prize?