We live in a small harborside town named Tubbsville which once thrived due to an active mining operation, now long closed. All that remains from those days is the tiny hotel and Franco's, the bar where we hang out.
"Bobby got out," said Ralph the other day in Franco's. "Now he's an actor on Broadway!"
"So?" I replied.
"So it means it can be done! We can get out too!"
"But why would we want to?" I asked, downing my Budweiser.
"There's a world out there, Perry!" he cried.
"But, Ralph, we're minutes outside San Francisco, we've made millions yuppifying this place, and Tubbsville's now crawling with drop dead gorgeous women!"
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. My bad."
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Maybe it's because I saw a dark cast of this picture when I first saw it, but I absolutely did not see the dental equipment in the foreground until I began reading other stories. The dental angle would have been fun to play with, but for now I'm hanging with Tubbsville, yuppification, and me. That's the reason for my toothless story based on the picture prompt above for this week's Friday Fictioneers.
The other Fictioneers have sunk their teeth into the prompt in a lot of other ways and you can get a complete check up from each one of them if you click here.
If you don't mind, I'm off the San Francisco for a spending spree. One gets so tired of hanging out with all those gorgeous women!
