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Three Further Flash Fiction Groaners
by Barry Ergang


"What's in this rig that you were drivin' twenty miles over the limit?" the highway patrolman asked.

"I carry grains for the Grove Cereal Company," the trucker said.

"They havin' a big run on Corn Crunchies that you're in such a hurry?"

"Nossir. Me'n some buddies has a band, and we got our first professional gig in town tonight. I'm late as it is. Cut me a break?"

"I will--but you drive within the limit, y'hear?"

"Thanks, officer."

"What's the name of your band?"

"We all drive trucks for Grove Cereal, so we call ourselves Haulin' Oats."

Originally published at Flashshot, May 21, 2009



Stickler, president of Amalgamated Robotics, glowered at his programming manager. "Have you any idea what kind of mess you've gotten this company into?"

McGraw swallowed, shook his head.

"We shipped androids to Vivian Caravano."

"Right, the fashion designer," McGraw said. "We programmed the droids to hem dresses."

"Yes-except you botched it."


"The androids can't stitch worth a damn. Three batches of dresses were recalled from retail stores because their hems came undone. The negative publicity seriously damaged Caravano Enterprises. It'll devastate our reputation." Stickler's gaze grew distant. "I can't imagine a more painful case of hemmer droids."

Originally published at Flashshot, July 3, 2010



Nine-year-old Ivan Burnham infinitely preferred reading about King Richard, medieval knights and the Crusades over helping his father. But Mr. Burnham, an avid gardener who wanted his son to learn the value of growing food and flora, insisted.

"For the best results, you must cultivate the soil before planting seeds," he explained, holding out the implement. "Use this."


"Take it."

"I don't want to."

"Would you rather be grounded for a couple of weeks?"

Ivan took the implement.

"Now till the soil," his father said.

"Betcha the Knights Templar didn't have to do this," the boy grumbled.

"Ivan, hoe!"

Originally published at Flashshot, March 21, 2011