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    Who’s in the Shack(?)
    The Woman Who Saved Arnie
    The Atomic Shepherd
    Ebook series3 titles

    Tales from Cumbria, England Series

    By Frankie Lassut

    ()

    About this series

    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 ...

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherFrankie Lassut
    Release dateFeb 8, 2023
    Who’s in the Shack(?)
    The Woman Who Saved Arnie
    The Atomic Shepherd

    Titles in the series (3)

    • 3

      The Atomic Shepherd
      The Atomic Shepherd

      The Atomic Shepherd

      Frankie Lassut
      0 ratings
      0 ratings

      Each year, the World’s Biggest Liar competition is held at the Bridge Inn at Santon Bridge, way up there in the wilds of the Cumbrian North West of England. Whoever tells the most convincing lie gets the trophy. Frankie couldn’t make it in 2012, so he wrote out his lie instead and put it in this book so the world can now enjoy it instead of a few yokels in the pub. Unfortunately, Frankie’s lie is actually the truth, about his old mate Joss Naylor, who used to be involved in the competition. The book is also filled out with several other stories all suitable for the competition ... the 2013 winner is shown, but not his story of course. Included is the tale of Beatrice Potter, a woman who lived in Frankie’s old home town of Millom in Cumbria. Enjoy!

      Each year, the World’s Biggest Liar competition is held at the Bridge Inn at Santon Bridge, way up there in the wilds of the Cumbrian North West of England. Whoever tells the most convincing lie gets the trophy. Frankie couldn’t make it in 2012, so he wrote out his lie instead and put it in this book so the world can now enjoy it instead of a few yokels in the pub. Unfortunately, Frankie’s lie is actually the truth, about his old mate Joss Naylor, who used to be involved in the competition. The book is also filled out with several other stories all suitable for the competition ... the 2013 winner is shown, but not his story of course. Included is the tale of Beatrice Potter, a woman who lived in Frankie’s old home town of Millom in Cumbria. Enjoy!

    • 9

      Who’s in the Shack(?)
      Who’s in the Shack(?)

      Who’s in the Shack(?)

      Frankie Lassut
      0 ratings
      0 ratings

      There are public houses in Cumbria which are meeting places for farmers and it is in these places where I heard tell of the Lake District legends; I knew the farmers. It was in that setting that after last orders one night Roger told me the story of the mystery shack, which I thought really good. This last one in the first set of Quick Flash Friction tales is preceded by the B Mind Movie which this time tells of an indie writer’s hobby i.e. mine (one of them anyway) ... inventing marvelous things, this one being a possible world wide best seller. Enjoy.

      There are public houses in Cumbria which are meeting places for farmers and it is in these places where I heard tell of the Lake District legends; I knew the farmers. It was in that setting that after last orders one night Roger told me the story of the mystery shack, which I thought really good. This last one in the first set of Quick Flash Friction tales is preceded by the B Mind Movie which this time tells of an indie writer’s hobby i.e. mine (one of them anyway) ... inventing marvelous things, this one being a possible world wide best seller. Enjoy.

    • The Woman Who Saved Arnie
      The Woman Who Saved Arnie

      The Woman Who Saved Arnie

      Frankie Lassut
      0 ratings
      0 ratings

      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 ...

      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 ...

    Author

    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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