TLT: Boredom Buster

three line tales, week 228: a man floating against a wall in Brooklyn
photo by Juan Ordonez via Unsplash

I only went to the party because I was bored out of my skull, and that’s why I talked to the peculiar guy who was leaning against the wall, too. 

I told him to go ahead when he told me he did magic tricks and would I want to see one, expecting him to maybe produce a flower from behind my ear – it took me a moment to realise he’d begun to float.

Now I come to see him every day, trying to figure out how he does it – I keep failing but hey, I haven’t been bored in weeks. 


100 words about a first date
(c) Etol Bagam for FFfAW 48 

The only free spot is by the pool table – less than ideal for a date. Standing comes with pitfalls, though – too close, too far away – so he sits down. Should he have waited outside? The place’s packed, she’ll have trouble finding him.

He is certifiable levels crazy for her. He’s afraid it’ll show. She arrives late, which, in a way, is good. His nerves have settled.

‘My favourite table. How did you know?’

‘I had a hunch.’

‘We’ll have to play, obviously. Let me win and you’re my favourite guy.’

No trouble letting her win – he’s never played pool before.

What news to wake up to

David Bowie mural in Brixton
CC BY-NC 2.0 photo by Duncan C (mural by Jimmy. C

It’s just gone 7am and you are thinking about waking up. You are questioning the music selection on the BBC 6Music Breakfast Show – how are you supposed to wake up to this subdued stuff? It’s 7:11, it’s January, you don’t need gloom.

You’ve got plenty of gloom yourself.

And then Shaun Keaveny says the words which do two things: justify the musical mood and wake you up with a jolt. You heard that wrong. It can’t be true.

You let it sink in.

And you wonder: Will he sing Under Pressure with Freddie again?

You’d like to think so.


Let’s all thank our lucky stars that we were – for a while at least – alive at the same time as David Bowie.

Test Run

100 words about a botched proposal
photo by DGlodowska

‘You’re impossible.’

‘I know. Thanks.’

‘And this is the worst proposal.’

‘It wasn’t real, actually. Just, you know, testing the waters. Given that you’re more upset about the way I’ve done it than about that I’ve done it, it declare the waters favourable.’

‘Hang on, hang on. You didn’t mean it as a joke?’

‘No. I would never joke about this.’

‘You joke about everything. You joke about death.’

‘If you don’t joke about death, it gets too serious.’

‘So if you don’t joke about marriage, doesn’t that mean it gets too serious?’

‘But it is serious. I am serious.’

Back to Bug Him

100 words about a hornet drone
photo by Josch13 

‘Bat it away, then.’

He doesn’t bother looking. She’s become too squeamish, coming to her rescue every time a bug scares her won’t help.

‘What if it stings?’

‘Them buggers haven’t hatched, I wouldn’t think. It’s January.’

‘Ain’t no bluebottle, though. It terrifies me.’

She stifles a scream. Exasperated, he goes into the other room. She’s cowering in the corner, shielding herself with a book. He freezes before he sees it hovering above her. It’s the sound out of his nightmares – the sound of a hornet drone. He curses the day he had the idea.

‘They found me. Oh, hell.’


Found myself missing Micro Bookends today and had Bat out of Hell stuck in my had all day. Hey presto, DIY Micro Bookends.

Heart of Glass

100 words about a childhood memory
photo by Antranias 

I must have been four. My uncle must have been in love with Debbie Harry. I don’t remember but we must have listened to all of Parallel Lines in his Beetle. On the way to or from our hotel, Heart of Glass always seemed to be playing when we traversed the level crossing; little me had convinced herself that going over the crossing while listening to the song meant we’d get hit by a train. I wailed every we went over the train tracks. I drove everyone bonkers.

Isn’t it funny that it’s one of my all-time favourite songs now?

End of Discussion

100 words about public art
(c) 2015, Sonya

‘You know what this is?’

‘Art, supposedly. The kind of rubbish the council likes to spend tax money on.’

‘Not what I meant. Do you know what it used to be?’

‘It should have been scrap metal.’

‘Yes, let’s not have this discussion again.’

‘I will have this discussion until they stop. Disgrace, throwing my hard-earned money at underachievers who think putting rubbish on stilts is art.’

‘It used to be a navigation buoy. It once marked the channel into port. The artist who turned it into public art  to remind us of our naval history is my boyfriend, dad.’


Oh look, the picture prompt for FFfAW no. 46 is one of mine again. I love the colour of the sky in this one.

Young and Foolish

100 words about ageing
photo by Christian Birkholz 

You’re only as old as you feel you are, right? I still feel as if I’m twenty one. Definitely young at heart, me. I am down with the youth.

They love me, the youngsters. Laugh all you want. You should see it – they break out in cheers whenever I get to the pub. Actual cheers. Good feeling, that.

I mean, yes, there’s the odd bit of banter. That time I made the mistake and got the old leather trousers out. A mistake, that. Brought it on myself, though.

‘Hey, grandpa, the tab’s run out.’

That’s the one that hurts, mind.

Subdued Return Journey

100 words about Arsenal losing
photo by nafets 


Big, massive, incredible disappointment.

Some of the group simply don’t want to talk about it, they’re sitting away from the rest and try to drink their memory clean. The rest analyses what we’ve seen. And naturally, the doubts come creeping back in. What we’ve seen these last few weeks before tonight, was that the real deal? Or is that the nightmare performance we’ve witnessed? Yes, of course, say the pessimists. No, it was just a fluke, say the optimists.

You never know, do you?

They could have gone to the top. Instead, they got a spanking left us disappointed.

On Christmas Day in the Morning

100 words about Oxford Street on Christmas day
photo by PublicDomainPictures 

It’s the one day when it is worth getting up early to go to Oxford Street. Because Central London will be deserted. You’ll stand in the middle of the Oxford and Regent Street crossing and if you’ve not been good, you may have to step aside for the odd taxi.

It isn’t, however, as empty as it used to be. Has it become a thing to post a selfie of oneself on London’s most congested road totally empty? Maybe it’s a fad, maybe you won’t have to get up before sunrise in the future anymore.

This is your Christmas wish.