55Friday: The “Waka Waka” Edition

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Zakumi in DC.jpgI have to take this opportunity to praise a small, dedicated sub-set of you mutineers who patiently continue to ask for a 55Friday, even though it’s no longer a regular feature here at SM. Your devotion to crafting stories with exactly 55 words, no more, no less is to be commended. This edition of the Mutiny’s Flash Fiction Festival is for you.

What’s Flash Fiction, some of you newer kids ask?

Nanofictions are complete stories, with at least one character and a discernible plot, exactly 55 words long. [wiki]

If you look through our “Haiku” archives, you can see plenty, many of them are quite good!

I admit it; I was more inspired than usual to try to answer your requests for 55ing because my last post (about family and identity) was such an affirming, delightfully troll-free experience. Thank you for reminding me of how lovely the comment threads here could be. 🙂 Why NOT celebrate such stellar civility with a few fine, fake stories.

At first, I couldn’t think of a suitable theme for you beyond the heat. Oh, the HEAT.

No, not THAT Heat. F that Heat. I’m a Pistons fan. I’m talking about the wilt-worthy weather. Right now, in DC, “Heatmageddon” is trending on Foursquare. NPR runs local stories cautioning pet owners to not leave their dogs in their cars, under any circumstances. And of course, I am sitting here in my office, wearing a sweater while typing this, because our air conditioning seems to think that the way to keep us comfortable is to turn us in to human popsicles. It’s going to be lovely to walk out in to a swamp from this freezer. Maybe I’ll write a short-short story about THAT.

Nevertheless, the heat may be on and it might be Summer in the City, but the song I’m thinking of has nothing to do with weather. It is, however, surely a favorite of Fozzie Bear: “Waka Waka“, the official theme for the only sporting event which currently matters! The 2010 World Cup ends this weekend, taking with it a massive time suck with which to avoid work AND loads of hawt guys with impressive hair who are prone to ripping off their jerseys after simulating war via footie. Damn, damn, damn, James. That’s somewhat depressing.

Oh, well. Write fifty-five words about FIFA, the World Cup, Cristiano Ronaldo’s baby boy or anything else that strikes your fancy. The only reason I provide a theme is so that you don’t mope about writer’s block; “Waka Waka” is the official anthem for this international event AND a Muppet catch-phrase, but it’s no straightjacket. Write a piece of micro-fiction about anything (as long as it has exactly 55 words!) and then treat the rest of us to it by leaving it in the comments below. Waka waka waka!

13 thoughts on “55Friday: The “Waka Waka” Edition”

  1. He paused. “You look like a muppet in that picture!”

    She smiled. “I will take that as a compliment. I loved that show when I was little.”

    “But I didn’t tell you which muppet you…”

    “Oh, I’d rather not know. Unless it’s Miss Piggy.”

    “And if it were?”

    “I AM NOTHING LIKE MISS PIGGY! HI-YA!”

  2. Hey Columbian blondie You’re the truthful hip-shake queen You told me it’s time for Africa And I believed

    Who’s your friend in the video? Some African chick, whatever European finalists Blackness removed altogether

    Waka Waka’s the Muppet Theme If you’ve not heard Brown girl can play it for you But maybe it’s yourself you prefer

  3. She sits, dourly staring at her laptop. “But what about RACISM?” she fumes, co-opting problems faced by those with less. She does not care; she loves how intoxicated contemplating oppression makes her feel. Outside, at the Farmer’s Market a block away, people laugh. A dog barks. A baby shyly toddles up to it. Evolution occurs.

  5. He broke his toe when he kicked the World’s Cup, nestled squarely on the phallic South African tip of the atlas. Try as he might, he could not quell the ejaculatory outbursts of its screaming, vuvuzela’ing hordes, nor shatter their single-minded whooping solidarity. Then again, a billion spermatazoa are easier targets than sycophantic soccer fans.

  6. 56, but I couldn’t resist

    Fozzie: We’re following our dream! Gonzo: Really? I have a dream, too! Fozzie: Oh? Gonzo: Well, I want to go to Bombay, India and become a movie star. Fozzie: You don’t go to Bombay to become a movie star! You go where we’re going: Hollywood. Gonzo: Sure, if you want to do it the easy way.

  7. The last 24 hours, LeBron James has been called a coward, a traitor, a narcissist, and what’s wrong with this generation. Prior, he was called a prodigy, workmanlike, selfless, a rare scorer who thinks pass first, all that was right with today’s NBA athlete. One day, one decision – the fickle nature of the mob.

  8. The two old men picked themselves off the ground, having been unceremoniously dumped from Ellis Park stadium by rabid World Cup fans.

    Statler began walking, his cane tapping a steady beat. “Soccer fans don’t have a sense of humour.”

    “Football,” interrupted Waldorf.

    “Whatever!” replied Statler, as the two chuckled to themselves off into the sunset.

  9. spain are the champions of the world. this was the world cup of prudence. for the great losing sides of the past, many of them would have demolished any of these sides. diving for money is becoming the norm in the beautiful game. well at least leBron is starting for the Dolphins right 🙂 WAKA WAKA

  11. Sergio, wreaking of the beer that saturated his Spanish football jersey, stumbled out of the elevator. He meandered towards his apartment, soon to discover the pile of all his belongings obstructing the door.

    It was 2 AM. Spain won the World Cup, but Sergio had just been served a red card – by his girlfriend.

  12. The hairy man with the mustache visited the pub every evening. He cheered every goal, mourned every missed chance, and conspicuously participated in the collective grieving when the team lost. He was trying his best to fit in and be accepted, but felt numb inside. His soul had been taken by Goddess cricket years ago.