The Woman Who Saved Arnie

By Frankie Lassut

This little Quick Flash extravaganza is actually ‘two’ Q F extravagan’zaz’. Yes, they have ‘zaz’! Can you believe that?!
Two instead of one. Let that great news sink in, try not to faint. Through your tears of joy, look out of the window. The day has suddenly become more beautiful, the sky is blue and the hole in the ozone layer is completely undetectable (so why is your bloody skin peeling off?). The clouds are white, fluffy, wispy and are creating wonderful pictures of Chernobyl scenes in the sky (never be fooled by the natural aesthetic beauty of fluffy white clouds) ... smashing!
Your food (boiled cabbage and economy beans) will now taste better and as for your new, heightened sense of smell ... the smell of the chemical effluent from the grey, ugly chemical plant in on the land just beyond your garden is more pleasant. That’s because overnight they have begun to manufacture lavender air freshener instead of ammonia for smelling salts. Mind you, the ammonia was handy for reviving you after your partner had knocked you out in the garden for failing to flush again (I’m assuming you’re a woman?) It is you see a lot easier on your chin to flush the stool away. That’s just the beginning of your wonderful new world and all because you received two Quick Flashes instead of one.
People in places like Manchester have reported that it feels a lot better going to the park when they’re expecting to have two flashes from flashers showing their wares instead of just one. Men who have just one lady jumping onto the path from a bush and opening their rain macs to them as they are walking through the park to work always report doing better at work and spend much less on prescription tranquillisers and shrinks than those who only get the one flasher treatment. So there you go ... better general scenery and fewer Prozacs to get you through the day; can’t be bad can it.
The stories? Well, the truth is, I hate giving away stories, but, as it’s you. The first is a flash about Arnold Swarzy-negger. He once had a problem and was aided by a woman I knew. The Visitor is about a thing most people see as a horrible pest.
These are preceded by the usual preceder which is a little flash on the life of an indie writer and in this case, debt.
OH.MY. GOD! That’s three QFs! Wow! Take a look outside. The sky will be fluffier and the clouds black with Chernobyl fallout, which is great fertiliser, so pray for rain ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frankie Lassut
• Release date: May 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311415646

Frankie Lassut

I am the one being shaved; the other one Nim, is is a looney bin now!I went to see a psychic years ago who ended up as my girlfriend; she didn’t see that one coming! But she was extremely honoured. However it ended badly i.e. it rained heavily as I buried her body and I got soaked. No! You don’t really want to hear about it, it’s depressing; I was joking about the burial. She told me that I was to uncover a talent I had ... Well, another psychic told me that as the first one was dead; I was lying when I said I was lying. Nothing happened for quite a while. Suddenly I realised I needed a ‘job’ quite badly as I was beginning to drink halves. No, not a boob ‘job’! I went for the cheap option i.e. the surgeon gave some socks to shove up my jumper when I go out. I got a ‘job’ (have you got boobs on your mind?) because someone told me that bus-driving was easy because you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel. She was about six, a wise woman ... that’s called an oxymoron. Fantastic! I thought get the job and in a couple of days I’d be driving all the nice passengers around and about seeing all the sights for a fraction of the cost of a tour bus; and we’d have a roof in case it rained. Easy! First of all though there was the training; and I entered hell.I was born in Cumbria in a little ex-iron ore mining town called Millom. It was only small, a one- horse town; the horse was called Peg. It had a pedigree name too, but I can’t remember it at the moment: Peggy Suss? However, I got fed up and left as I was the only man in a town full of women and they were all lesbys; I’ve always been lucky. I went to Blackpool and attended the photographic college. I then moved to Coventry and met the psychic who would tell me what was going to happen. I could say now that the rest is history. Well it is, but obviously not history as that’s all made up anyway. Then I got the job bus-driving, which as I said is easy ‘you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel’. The bus station management weren’t pleased that she had said that though, so she was tried and sent to Guantanamo Bay; they have a section for young kids who are bad to the bone.The job was so mad that I thought it would be a good idea to write out some posters and stick them all on the wall of the bus station. The other drivers enjoyed them, but the management tore them down, the badstars (that’s an anagram of astards +B). I carried on and ended up with a manuscript for a book, which, by the way is ‘brilliant’. The management didn’t like it, but bollocks to them.I couldn’t stop writing after that episode and I’ve been writing ever since, mostly cheques to people, such as the mortgage people and the gas board etc. I am so brilliant that I’ve lost all my friends because I wrote about them in my style which I believe is called Bizzaro. My inner being is a bit of a crazy horse, because whatever I write it has to be in that style, even the horror. It just goes that way. ‘Ordinary’ writing to me is like lemonade minus the bubbles ... I can’t bring myself to do it; but thank God I can still bring myself off. I need a selfie stick as I do that because the close focus on the phone won’t do it; how else am I going to post them on the Dark Web?Writing is like a drug. When I was writing my Millom book, the pictures that flashed into my head were so funny to me that I laughed myself into hernia-ville; my stomach tore. I got injured writing.You see, hernia-ville, a retirement home for people with stomach hernias; no comedians are booked to appear at that place.So, my writing is brilliant, so read the bloody stuff!I have actually suffered for my art. I won’t go to hospital to get it fixed because, well, I’ve written about that friggin place too.All that and now I’m an international bestselling author. I’m the only author in this world who has sold books on Mars (eat your heart out Tony Robbins), so I can say with certainty that Martians have fabulous senses of humour.What a profile!

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The Woman Who Saved Arnie

Copyright by Frankie Lassut 2015

Published by Wonky eBooks at Smashwords

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As per usual, the B movie first and then the A as in the great days of the cinema and, as the first A movie is pretty short (but grand), there is a second one about an unwelcome visitor.

A QUICK FLASH on INDIE WRITERS AND DEBT

This first little Quick Flash is an insight, for you the delightful, well loved, appreciated reader, into the world of the indie writer i.e. how we perceived weirdos manage to exist in a world of obsessive fan worship and, of course, living day to day with tons and tons of money. I know you’re thinking ‘it must be difficult because I could never do it, the adjustment would be too much and I’d crack up’. You try living for many years with a sock drawer full of great socks and then think where you would put those beloved socks when one day you find that the sock drawer must now become a drawer for the storage of wads of money. I have had mornings, mid-days and evenings where I have had to empty drawers of thousands upon thousands of pounds in hope to find the matching green sock to go with the red one I have