"Fiddling while Rome Burns" - "Come-to-Jesus Moment" - "Bananas" - NYC Midnight 100 Word Microfiction Contest 2022 - round 2 - entry plus two alternate drafts I did not submit

Hi loves, this is my entry for NYC Midnight's 100 word Microfiction 2022, round 2. The assignment was genre: comedy, action: shaking, word: cheap.

I entered the first one, but I had a couple other drafts I thought were funny, so I'm including them after. Take three, they're small and light, they won't go right to your hips!

_____________

"Fiddling while Rome Burns"

Another scorching day. “Climate change is killing us,” I grumbled.

“Talk is cheap. We gotta do something!” Samantha grabbed her Ouija board.

My fingers shook as we touched the planchette.

“The spirits know all. O Ancestors, we beg your wisdom!” Sam cried.

The board trembled. The suddenly chilly planchette shivered into motion.

“Spirits, can we heal our Earth, repair this environmental disaster?”

LOL I’m from Pompeii, it spelled. You want my help?

“You experienced an environmental disaster,” she whispered. “Can you guide us?”

Not really. I was jerking off when Vesuvius blew.

We looked at each other.

It didn’t help.

_________________

"Come-to-Jesus Moment"

Lenny the Faithless went

To the Revival Tent.

He hoped to be healed

Of what X-rays revealed –

Not the Sabbath to keep,

But because he was cheap,

And insurance was dear

(He preferred buying beer).

Heck, the plate he could cheat

As it passed by his seat.

 

The church welcomed him in,

Said they’d absolve him of sin,

Rejoiced with trite hymns,

Shaking, flapping their limbs,

Singing way out of tune,

Barking mad at the moon.

 

Then out came the crates:

“Thou shalt all take up snakes!”

Thusly Len the beans spilled:

“Bullshit! The hell I will!”

_______________

"Bananas"

Jimbo stepped through the sliding door, shaking his discount bagful of pathetic, brown-dappled bananas.

“Ugh. Can’t you get them something else?” I demanded. Bananas got the deck slimy.

“These were cheap,” he protested. “You wanted cheap!”

“I married it,” I said, softening the jab by patting his ass as I passed, hurrying inside. Being out there with them felt unsafe. Crazy.

I married that, too.

Dozens of raccoons surrounded my Jimbo. He crooned and cackled. They stood on hind legs, imploring him, patting his jeans. He dispensed treats, giving Communion and loving absolution to his trash-panda disciples.

Bananas. Utterly bananas.

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