On Talking About the Moon: Friday Non-FictionaLunatics

Honey’s real name might as well have been Alice, and Sam could have easily been Ralph, or George and Gracie, Desi and Lucy, or Randy and ….
Nellie? Whoa, Nellie.

Each week Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts a pic to write a 100 word story about.

This week it’s love and marriage…. and patience and humor.

Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


 
I’m Talking About the Moon

Every ten seconds she takes a picture.
I rue the day that cell phones and cameras were married.
In fact, I rue the day that I married.
“Sam, whaddya think? Landscape or portrait?”
“Honey, you’ve already taken 10,000 shots, this is a damn tourist trap street, and you’re shooting up into the sky. The sky is the same everywhere. Who cares!”
“Sam, you’ll never understand. It’s not the same sky as we have back home. Look how polluted this sky is. Sepia would make it look nice.”
Sam slams his open palm to his forehead mumbling something about the moon.

Post script:
“Don’t be silly, Sam,” Honey giggles. “There is no moon there.”

Randy Mazie

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22 thoughts on “On Talking About the Moon: Friday Non-FictionaLunatics

  1. Dear Randy,

    Bumba beat me to the obvious. Ah…this put me in mind of the original Out of Towners with Jack Lemon and Sandy Dennis. I could hear Gwen and George speaking. What did we do before cell phones? We had to talk to each other and use cameras to take pictures. Remember film? Me neither…well barely. Of course back in the day Hubby had the newspaper to hide behind. 😉

    Nicely done, Mr. Mazie

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

    • HI Rochelle.

      I can’t believe that I wrote this Wednesday morning and forgot to link it. I think my head is in my moon. Ha.

      I never thought for a moment that you would know, much less actually see or use, that thin roll of plastic 20th century homo sapiens called film.

      And now I am going to ruffle and bury my head in that other old 20th century thin inky sheet of material made from trees and once referred to as a newspaper. If I could only read…

      Randy

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