Tall Tales From Kitchen Stools

When it came to a challenge, Jim Smiley just had to jump right in!” Grandpa said. He sat on the edge of the stool, and we sat around his feet, crisscross applesauce, elbows on knees, chins in palms, giving him our undivided attention.

Grandma stood over the stove stirring chicken and rice. She snorted. “Don’t go tellin’ ’em chil’ren tales.”

“If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’,” Grandpa said. “We was down in Mississippi at dis ol’ white bar.”

“How y’all get in? Y’all darker den coal!” Grandma said, her hands on her hips.

“Hush, now!” Grandpa waved her off and continued.

“We just got back from de river. Found a bullfrog along de bank. Jim had it in his pocket, and it was just a wrastlin’. A big gal wit bigger breasts was uncomfortable wit us bein’ dere. Got her ol’ man to make us leave. Now, I was chicken. I ain’t put up no fight, but ol’ Jimmy boy, he toss dat frog in de air and it land right in between her cleavage!” Grandpa guffawed, slapping his knee. “And we ran so fast de soles on our shoes was burnt by de time we got home!”

We laughed and clapped as Grandpa stood to take a bow.

“Alright,” Grandma said, “Story’s over. Now get on back, chil’ren, ‘fore lightenin’ strike all y’all dead!”

word count: 210 (I went a bit over the word limit this week)

—Nortina


This is Part of Monday’s Finish the Story: a flash fiction challenge where we provide you with a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. Your challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided.

This story is a mix of two classics in American literature: Jim Smiley and Slim Greer. Click the froggy icon to read other stories and add your own.

2015-03-02-bw-beacham

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