I never wanted to bring this up again, but…
Lillie McFerrin posts a “Five Sentence Fiction” prompt.
This week it is: Festival
Our First Date
Our first date didn’t actually last very long, not long at all; and I wouldn’t exactly call it a festival, much less a celebration.
She was so cute as she insisted we ride the Ferris Wheel, and I didn’t want to lose an opportunity to get to first base with her, although it was so against my better judgment to go on that ride.
It was one of those swinging seats, upon which she heartily thrust back and forth over my rising protests and attempts at explanations that I don’t do well on high dangling and fast swaying rides.
She got the message, more like the BIG picture, and way too late – all over her shoes, skirt, and that hot little blouse she was wearing.
It was not a festival, not even close, maybe more like a cause celebre or an international incident, or, if you’d like, you can call it a blow-out, an unexpected episode of mass regurgitation, a serious miss-fortune, a ferry-ous calamity, close to a damnable disaster, an upchuck of the first degree, a turned tide, bad luck, or a one wheel stand – but after how she reacted, referring to it in her presence as a “slight set-back” would be a serious and severe understatement requiring uncertain but certainly swift punishments.