COCKTAIL BETTY RUBBLE: ON THE MAKE (#fridayflash)

Click play for some mood music

Note: In honor of today's Google Doodle and the fact that everyone's favorite prehistoric cartoon is 50 years-old today, I give you this kooky piece of flash.

Betty Rubble knew it was time.

It had been more than a year since Barney Rubble left her for Gabbie Gabbro, that slutty secretary from Mr. Slate's office. Betty thought she should've known better. She had the same job 15 years ago when Barney used to make up excuses to visit the boss. Yeah, it's was time. Betty knew she had to get out there sooner or later.

The house had been eerily quiet. Hoppy died after Barney ran over him accidentally a few years back. And as for Bamm Bamm Rubble? He had to be sent to the Shale Center because he actually never learned to say anything more than his name. Couple that with an abnormal sense of strength and he simply had become too much for Betty. So the house was now empty.

She thought about switching back to her maiden name -- Betty Basalt -- if she was gonna to be on the make. It had more of a ring to it, she thought. So, with just enough side boob showing, Betty strolled into the Limestone Lounge and ordered her first rocktini in years. And holy shonkinite, did it go down easy.

And that music... Mikey Marble and his Minettes. Smoothe. She was getting that mojo back and as Betty moved on to single malt Monzonites, she became reflective and thought of all those years ago.

She remembered the Flintstones next door. Fred finally had that heart attack. It was all that yelling and ranting that finally did him in. In fact, that's what sparked Barney into exercising and undoubtedly getting the attention of young secretaries at the quarry. Wilma took that cutie Pebbles away and last Betty heard, the teenager snagged the the Miss Marble crown. Good for Pebbles, Betty thought. Had Bamm Bamm been normal, they would've made such a cute pair.

It wasn't long before she was approached. He was handsome enough, Betty thought, asking his name.

"Pumice," the stranger said. "Paulie Pumice... I sell baby dinos. I can give you a good price..."

The music got louder and Betty tried not to look bored.

Art: The incredible Glen Barr. Music: "The Flintstones" by Hoyt Curtin can be downloaded HERE.

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A RUBBER DUCKY'S LAMENT (flash fiction)

Props to my bud Tim Twelves for posting the sketches you see below on his Facebook page. It bummed me out so much, that I figured I'd spin a yarn about it.

Bert would give anything to go back to the time when their apartment was alive with love and friendship.

It's been all too quiet for three years now and God, how he missed Ernie's verve, his laugh and spirit. He left so suddenly and to this day Bert grieves as much as he did as the day it happened. His friends from 'The Street' -- more like family members, really -- have urged him to open up about it, but Bert's still unwilling to talk. It hurts too much.

Making matters worse, the dreams have started again. It usually hits around 3 a.m. and in them, Bert would see him, illuminated, and exclaim, "Ernie, you're back. I have so much to tell you!"

Ernie would hug his dear friend and then simply vanish. The cold sweat usually stays with Bert until morning as he lies shivering in his darkened room, unable to fall back asleep. The vicious cycle kept him awake nightly during the witching hours of grief and asleep when the sun shined through the apartment windows.

And even after these three long and painful years, Bert still can't bear to get rid of Ernie's bed or belongings. And sure, in an attempt to make it easier, Bert would try to remember the things that Ernie did to infuriate him - and boy, there were many - but it was usually futile. The wretched grip of melancholy was planted firmly on his neck, ensuring that the lump in his throat would go nowhere.

The memories would keep coming. Every time, he entered the bathroom, Bert would remember how much he hated that song Ernie used to sing yet would easily welcome his ghost to sing it just one more time. And yes, even after three years, he can't even seem to get rid of that goddamn rubber ducky who just sits, perched on the tub, waiting for his old fried.

In a way, it looks even sadder than Bert.

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POPEYE THE OCTAGENARIAN (flash fiction)

I found this amazing pic of my favorite cartoon character online by Rick Baker and just had to whip something up. Creepy...

In his younger days he was spry but now he's just impatient. At 94, he could still pack a punch, pulling triple duty mumbling to himself and sucking on a corncob pipe.

While his longshoreman days are long behind him, the love he holds for his dearly-departed 'goil' Olive remains as strong as the current he once sailed upon. As for his foundling, 'Swee' Pea, he's happily married and has a Swee' Pea of his own.

He doesn't do much these days but think about the old gang - that sweet moocher J. Wellington Wimpy, Sea Hag, Alice the Goon and even Bluto.

But then he he hears the latter's way too familiar voice call him a "one-eyed runt" and his can feel his still-muscular forearms start to tremble.

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