Humor Fiction posted December 28, 2014


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Traditions die hard...

Gone with FanStory

by maggieadams

There they all sat, fanning themselves. The air was thick with rumors and innuendo as the guests gathered on the plantation porch. Beads of sweat rolled through Sasha's flaming red hair. Smoothing her bright yellow skirt over her thighs, she plunged her foot into a bucket of ice. She did not want to rant, so she sipped on her Holy Moly coffee served from a silver platter and thanked the nice waiter. "Roman, you are so kind. Did I tell you about my toes?"

Pretty soon, another red-head joined Sasha on the porch. She was spitting fire about the news. "Surely, these Northerners will not try to mess with our way of life. I am not changing. Word is that they want to modernize our system when it's worked for many years. The nerve."

"Don't matter much to me. The fans will find me. I ain't going to bust my hump over the changes."

"Well, fine. Your opinions are like onions. They make me cry," Sasha piped-up, not able to stay out of the fray.

"Do you hear an Echo?"

The chatter abated when a woman, waving a Maple-leaf flag, pulled up in front. There was something spiritual about this woman's appearance. The dust settled and the jewelry-clad lady stepped down from her steed. "What the F.U.C.K is going on?" (so much for spiritual).

"Haven't you heard what Master Tom is going to do?" They all chimed.

"Well, maybe I have or maybe I haven't. But y'all need to progress, accept change."

Through the plantation doors strode a woman in tears. She appeared to be wearing the draperies. "Oh, I had hoped there would be no change. I can't change, I'm stuck...I will think about this tomorrow."

A dapper looking man with an Australian accent came striding up the steps. "Oh, poor Maggie, change is so damn hard. Wish that I could write a sonnet that would take all her troubles away." He joined the others and grabbed a Shiraz from the wine bar before taking a seat. "Here's to Archie, my dear friend."

"Near as I can tell, there is always a solution to a problem," a soft-spoken rational man intoned. He began to go point by point, making more sense with every example..."I hear that the color will be purple and will surround every reply, every review, and y'all will see purple in your sleep."

"Are you dreamin'?"

"I'm not afraid. My fans like the color purple, I'm sure of it. I'm not just whistlin' Dixie; they'll vote for me whether it's purple or green, or... who in the hell is that coming?"

A white-haired man atop a black horse came galloping up with a smooth flow. "Do any of ya know where I can find a few member dollars? I have one-liners to write and westerns to post."

"Come join us, is that you, Charles? Have you heard the news? It was sprung on us and wasn't well-written."

Charles scratched his head. "Well, sometimes, I reckon, y'all have to go with the flow."

Another Aussie pulled up a rocker. "Hey, mates, what are you all horrified about? What's lurking deep within? Is it a nefarious plan?" He patted his little dog on the head and continued. "Don't tarry too long whether it's right or wrong...hey, I'm a poet and don't know it."

A woman, who held a penguin dressed in a tuxedo, chimed in. "What the Hell, I am going out in a blaze of glory." She hurriedly threw the penguin down and grabbed her lap-top. She had another chapter to post.

A slender woman, bearing gifts for all, came waltzing around the corner. She began to ponder their lot in life. "We will all adjust. We must reach for the stars, my dears."

"Or listen to the children. They have life figured out. We just need to write tons and tons of rhyming poems and post on the purple site with purpose. If you write it, they will come..."

"Hey, that is another movie. Stay here on the porch."

"How about those Cubs?" a dark-haired man asked, taking a seat between the two Aussies. "Sometimes life disappoints, just look at the Cubs. They get us all excited and then 'bam'. I try to keep y'all abreast, but..."

"What the F.U.C.K? The Cubs, schmubs...they need to roll with the punches like all of us."

A handsome dark-haired man full of historical perspective pleaded with all on the porch. "Put this change in your 'cotton-pickin' minds. My Grandmother Maude lived through persecution. She saw how unfair life could be. We all need to learn from the past. Purple is the new color, accept it."

"But how can we accept it, if we have been raised with all the traditions and stability of classic FanStory? Oh, dear, I will think about this tomorrow."

"Perhaps, I can write a haiku that will encourage Maggie to move forward."

"Well, I won't accept it either. Are you going to write a poem for me?" the red-haired lady sputtered and spit.

A lovely lady well-versed in rationality grabbed the hand of the problem-solver and together they laid out a plan of acceptance. "Perhaps, some could stay on the old site, the classic FanStory, and others can step into the world of purple."

"He, he, ho, ho, haw, haw. I am enjoying you all twisting in the wind. I win contests whether it's old or new. That's why I created this one."

"What the F.U.C.K?"

"No worries, mates."

"Frankly, my dears," the whistler imparted, "I don't give a damn."






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Hope you don't mind me pokin' a little fun at all of us...Happy New Year. I truly adore you, quirks and all.
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