Well, folks, it’s Friday. The entire world is sighing with relief. And dozens of us rise once more to the challenge thrown out by Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers. Read all the stories, 100 words (more or less), HERE. I went with less this week, 95, which is fair since I so often go over. Thanks so much to Dale Robinson for the unique photo this week.
“It be an egg!”
“Nowat,” George said.
“Yeah!” Harold insisted. “Wait til you see.”
“Neh,” Gearge said again. “They wouldna build an egg.”
“Mebbe they didn’t build it,” Harold said meaningfully, waggling his eyebrows. He leaned forward, conspiratorial. “Mebbe it come from,” he jerked his head up, “there, you know.”
“Hmmph,” was the derisive answer, with a stream of tobacco juice.
“Ya never know,” Harold folded his arms and sat back. Both men chewed reflectively.
“Ya know,” George said finally, “I alwees said me daughter in law was from outer space.”