Hurray, Captain Ficly

Jason scratched his beard and stared at the ‘AOL’ flag growing larger with every second. “Hoist the mainsail! We’ll fight them with their own weapons. And when they come at us, we’ll throw every bloody phrase in the dictionary at ’em! Even run-on sentences!”

“No!” Kevin said. “Not run-on sentences! It mustn’t come to that!”

“So what if it does! It’s not a Ficlet thing any more, and we have freedom now! It’s part of my overarching strategy to beat them with their own technology — like when the Russians beat us to space. They won’t even know it’s coming!”

“Wow, you think it will work? Or has everyone already given up?” Kevin asked.

“Did we give up when the French bombed the Sears tower? Did Custer get defeated at his last stand? Did Crazy Horse even think about giving up his Prozac?”


“Hell no! And Captain Ficly isn’t giving up without a fight!”

“But, Jason — Captain Ficly!”

“But nothing! Get to writing, you fickle Ficlyans! This story isn’t going to write itself! Do the write thing and fight!”

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