Can you furnish a better story for this photo for me? HERE is the pingback to include with your post to make sure we all see it.
Short Short Story
No place for a nap could be crasser or baser.
It’s clear that that beer was simply a chaser.
Overly tired, three sheets to the wind,
I think that this fellow is overly ginned!
Welcome to “The Numbers Game #57.” Today’s number is 178. To play along, go to your photos file and type that number into the search bar. Then post a selection of the photos you find that include that number and post a link to your blog in my Numbers Game blog of the day. If instead of numbers, you have changed the identifiers of all your photos into words, pick a word or words to use instead, and show us a variety of photos that contain that word in the title.This prompt will repeat each Monday with a new number. If you want to play along, please put a link to your blog in comments below. Here are my contributions to the album.
These photos need to be enlarged to view.
I somehow published an old prompt for Ragtag in my poem today, so here is a photo response to today’s correct prompt: https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2022/08/06/rdp-saturday-bubbles/
Sister Flowers
Yellow, red and white and green,
insuring that they’re easily seen.
Fifteen maidens in a row,
eyes distended, all aglow.
Skirts spread out to catch the sun,
observing me and everyone
who passed this way, their aprons spread
as though they wished to work instead
of simply standing in the sun
creating beauty for everyone!
You can join them if you wish,
but you must curb your sway and swish.
Stand quietly. Quit all your pranks.
You’re not allowed to break their ranks,
lest you draw disapproving glowers
from your docile sister flowers.
For Simply Six Minutes write a piece to accompany the above photo. Exactly six minutes! No rules broken.
This is the photo that Cee gave us to draw our topics from: 
Forgottenman has access as an administrator on my blog. As I slept, he was obsessively busy trying to find legitimate brick red in my photos file. This is what he came up with: Thanks, Dux, for keeping me literal.
Color Your World Prompt
The Lake Chapala, Mexico area where this apartment building has been going up for over a year is home to the largest group of American and Canadian expats in the world—most of them over 60 years old. That taken into account, I don’t think its sign sends the correct message to their targeted renters. I’m sure the name “Last Apartments” is a rather unfortunate translation of “Ultimos Departamentos,” and for the superstitious, it is definitely not a great selling point. (Most probably, their intention was to convey that they will be the latest or best in design, but the translation from Spanish to English leaves the impression that no renter will be leaving the premises alive!)
The photo prompt above is from Mircealanc at Pixabay.com, a photo prompt published by Fandango
The Tin Man Talks to His Creator
I’m just a “thing” made out of metal,
stovepipe legs, my head a kettle.
When it rains, I rust apart
and so expose my lack of heart.
It is no mystery, no riddle
that I’m empty in the middle.
Some say a heart is of no use.
It is a trap. It is a noose.
It is an organ of abuse,
at best of times, merely a truce
in the battle of the sexes
between them and all their exes.
They say, “When born without a heart,
there’s nothing there to tear apart!”
Yet still I feel that all that pain
would not, could not, be in vain.
I’d bear the sadness for the start
of love that I’d feel with a heart.
And so, I pine and wish and stew
that I might be born anew
with a beating corazon
so I’d not feel so alone,
and though I would be made of tin,
that living heart that pulsed within
would let me feel at last what they
take for granted every day.
What care I that I fall to dust
if I could love before I rust?
Once more, I pray to my creator,
to that great procrastinator.
I ask again to have a heart—
what I’ve asked for from the start.
I say, “The pain, without a doubt,
can’t be worse than going without.”
Then that Great Tinsmith in the sky
looks me firmly in the eye
so the truth I cannot miss
as he gently tells me this:
“A heart’s not something I can bestow.
It is a thing you have to grow.”
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 