Flash Frenzy Free For All: Father’s Day Edition

Posted: June 17, 2017 in Flash Frenzy Free For All

Happy Saturday, writers! It’s Father’s Day Weekend, and I hope many of you are getting to spend it with loved ones. This weekend I’ve chosen a photo within a photo prompt, and I’d like to see your best stories featuring Dads, dad jokes, dad bods, and/or whatever dad-related material you can imagine. Have fun!

Screen Shot 2017-05-26 at 8.18.59 PM

photo courtesy Ashwin Rao

  1. ewansmithxxx says:

    Query Dad
    (360 words)

    Cuthbert didn’t know whether he was a father or not. It was possible. For three weeks back in 1973, he had been involved in a sexual relationship with Selena Goncourt, a fellow student on his Maths course at university. It had been a glorious experience for him. She had imbued their brief relationship with a deep sense of joy. She had such a generous spirit; at no time had she made him feel conscious of his inexperience and, when she had moved on, she had left him feeling proud of what they’d had rather than devastated by what he’d lost. But she had moved on and he had settled back into the humdrum existence which was to be his lot for the remainder of his life.
    He discovered by chance that Selena was pregnant and later learnt that she’d had a son, Corin. Cuthbert considered the dates. He could have been the father. On the other hand, this was student life in the 1970s; a number of people could have been the father. However, Serena made no attempt to connect him to the matter of her pregnancy and that fitted nicely with his own feelings on the issue. And so his life went on.
    Over the decades, he remained on the periphery of Serena’s life. He was aware of Corin’s progress through university, some sort of marketing job, marriage, an indeterminate number of children.
    Cuthbert himself had slipped in and out of relationships; successful enough ones on the whole though none which came with the fireworks and sparkle he had experienced with Serena. It was as if his monochromatic life had been touched by a distant memory (or perhaps a dream) of technicolor. None of those relationships ever resulted in a child.
    Then he had his heart attack. It wasn’t serious as such things go. But for the first time he found himself facing the possibility of his own mortality. And the question began to burn in him – was he a father? When he died, would he in some sense live on? There was a sour urgency about his need to know the answer. But of course he never would.


  2. @GeoffHolme
    359 words

    Stop Me If You’ve Heard This

    Dad was always a joker.

    As a kid, I never got a straight answer about his job…
    (I used to work in a calendar factory, but I was fired because I took a couple of days off.
    I’m the guy who invented Lifesavers. I made a mint!)

    …or how he met Mom.
    (She worked at a fast-food drive-thru.
    Whenever she said ‘Sorry about your wait’, I’d come back with ‘Are you saying I’m fat?’;
    ‘Any condiments?’
    ‘Compliments? You sure look pretty today!’)

    I was their only child.
    (She wanted three – one of each!)

    Dad would drive me to school every day.
    (What did the buffalo say to his boy at the school gate? Bison!)


    Mom died before my teens. The jokes dried up for a while.


    After my graduation, Dad and I were downtown when a gunman ran out of a store.
    (If you see a robbery at an Apple Store, does that make you an iWitness?)

    He stepped in front of me… and took a bullet.

    The ambulance raced along the street, siren blaring.
    (They won’t sell much ice cream driving at that speed!)

    At the hospital, medics asked Dad’s blood type. He whispered, “Red!”

    He looked awful after the surgery.

    “You alright?”

    “No, I’m half left.”

    “They say you ain’t got long, Dad. What’s it to be: burial or cremation?”

    “I dunno. Surprise me!”


    Ironically, Dad’s funeral was held on Father’s Day. The church was packed.
    (“I always go to people’s funerals, otherwise they won’t come to mine!”)

    I helped carry the casket.
    (At a funeral, the leading pall-bearer rapped twice on the casket. The guy behind said, ‘This is no time for Knock, Knock jokes’!)

    There was a photo of Mom and Dad with the floral tributes: each time Mom asked ‘How do I look?’, Dad would quip ‘With your eyes!’

    It was a short ride to the burial ground.
    (This is a popular cemetery. People are just dying to get in here!)

    When Uncle Mike bent over to pick up a handful of soil to throw on the casket, I made a loud farting noise.

    I looked to the sky. “That one’s for you, Dad!”

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