Poetic justice

I know an asshole who was a restaurant industry attorney and lobbyist.
Ensuring that kids who got hurt in fast food restaurants couldn’t sue.
Viciously smearing people who were sickened by the unhealthy products.
Screwing over franchisees with insane contracts, supplier price hikes, and map stacking.
Colluding with others in the industry to bribe lawmakers at every level for minimal safety standards and no employee benefits.
The Diabetes, Obesity, Heart Disease, Cancer, Poverty, and Stroke industry eventually chewed him up and spit him out.
He ended up with all of those conditions eventually, until he wasted away.
Poetic justice, much?

Weekly Challenge #967 – Safe

The next topic is Blood test

NORVAL JOE

With her husband safe and sound inside the ambulance and speeding away to the hospital, Mrs. Withybottom wrung her hands together and looked around. “I think I should go to the hospital to be with Thurgrave.”

The butler put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll drive you, Mitzi. I mean, Madam. Then I can return and keep an eye on your daughter.”

“No way,” Mandy said. “I’m coming with you to the hospital.” She grabbed Billbert’s hand and dragged him to the old Cadillac.

In the huge back seat, she whispered to Billbert, “I don’t like, or trust, that man.”

LISA

The School Run
Belle ran for the bus: could still feel his touch as he’d brushed passed her, his foetid breath was inside her nostrils. Panic built inside.
She cursed the dark, she cursed her shoes, she cursed her heavy bag. Breathless. Stitch stabbing at her sides. She just wanted to be home but the bus doors closed as she neared the stop. With a final frantic push she ran desperately, arm out, thankfully the driver saw her and waited.
Belle sat on the bus feeling safe at last, panted, closed her eyes.
She didn’t see him get on at the next stop.

SERENDIPIDY

I know you do all the right things.
The whole thing about not inviting me across your threshold; how you check for my reflection in mirrors, and the way you keep a wooden stake within arm’s reach, just in case.
And you really can’t hide the stench of that garlic necklace.
You think you’re safe, don’t you?
But, here’s the thing: Everything you think you know about vampires, you learned from fiction.
Just because you read it in a book, or saw it in the movies, doesn’t mean it’s true.
And, by the way, we love a bright, sunny day!

LIZZIE

You’ll be safe, he said. But nothing was further from the truth. I wasn’t safe at all. The irony, the sarcasm, the criticism, the mockery. Day after day. I was not safe. When I left, I left for good. I walked away and became invisible. I changed my name. I hid myself among strangers. My looks, my job. Everything changed. The day he knocked on my door, I just had to get rid of him. The strangers understood. The cops are still looking for him. He’s in the Madden’s crypt, in Mrs. Madden’s coffin. He’ll be safe there… or not!

RICHARD

Uncle Simeon
We were clearing out Uncle Simeon’s house after he passed. To say he was a bit of a hoarder was something of an understatement. The whole house was crammed to the rafters with junk.
Well, most of it was junk.
There were a couple of antiques, here and there, but nothing of any real value.
Oh, and there was a safe.
An old-fashioned, solid steel affair that defied all our attempts to open it.
In the end, we took it to a blacksmith, who cut it open with an oxy-acetylene torch.
Of course, it was crammed full of junk!

PLANET Z

The realtor told me to get a fireproof safe for important documents, so I bought the most sturdy and reliable safe with an ironclad warranty and guarantee.
Then I dropped all my important documents in there… my mortgage, my insurance plan, all my medical stuff for tax purposes.
And I locked it up.
Problem is, I’ve forgotten the passcode on it.
And I left the emergency keys inside.
The safecracker I hired can’t bust it open.
I’d call the company to get a technician out, but their number is written on the warranty.
Which is locked inside of the safe.

The plan

My grandmother had severe dementia and Alzheimer’s.
She lived to 99 and drained my parents dry.
So when my mother was diagnosed with both conditions, I asked my father what the plans were.
He said he had plans. And didn’t tell me.
They moved to a city near me.
Then, when my father got sick, instead of putting my mother in a facility or getting a caretaker, I was stuck babysitting her.
Turns out his plans were to dump her on me.
So I came up with a plan, too.
I’ve blocked everybody’s calls, and to hell with those assholes.

The dealers

I lived in a suburb of Columbus for nine years.
There wasn’t much to do there.
It was a dry town, but there was beer and more surrounding it.
Marijuana grew wild by the train tracks.
We’d harvest it by the bag and put it in a guy’s attic to dry.
Except that it was too wet and soaked through their ceiling, which collapsed.
So, we dried it in a model home’s oven at night.
I didn’t smoke any, though.
I just sold it in school. But for cheap.
Because the more they were stoned, the better the grade curve.

UNIFIL

The problem with peacekeepers is that you assign them to a mission for a year or so.
And they’re told that they can’t socialize with locals.
No dating, no hookers.
All these soldiers, mostly men, told to keep it in their pants for a year?
Yeah, that’s how the crimes happen.
Against the women soldiers, but also the local women and girls.
So, we developed robot soldiers and patrols.
They don’t rape. They don’t steal.
But they do kill. They kill a whole hell of a lot of people.
But they don’t rape them or steal from them, thank God.

God sized hole

I am an atheist.
I do not believe in God.
Even when I went to church, I thought “What is this crap?”
A guy standing at the end of the room, telling fairy tales and fables.
For years, people said I had a God-sized hole in my heart.
Which I tried to fill with drugs, booze, and sex.
When I finally found God, I tried to fill that hole in my heart.
And God said “Wow. Look at all the drugs and booze and sex.”
I’m still an atheist.
But, damn that motherfucker God partying it up in my heart.

Fascist accounting

Oh, fascists. So efficient with their accounting methods.
The streets may run red with the blood of their victims, but their balance sheets are all in the black.
The Chinese charge the cost of bullets they use in executions to their families.
The Soviets charged rent for every troublesome comrade sent to the gulag. And for every tree they chopped for wood to keep from freezing to death.
The Nazis charged a fare for every passenger on the death trains.
And American public schools have a long list of fees and charges to attend these inefficient and incompetent indoctrination camps.

Take him home for thanksgiving

My father died about a year ago.
I have no idea what was done with his body.
Some creep from the hospital kept calling about it.
“We need to know what to do with the body.”
“Take it home for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“WHAT?”
“Not to eat. That would be sick. Just sit him at the table.”
“WHAT?”
“Come on, that’s less sick than eating him. I think. Just don’t expect him to say grace.”
I don’t remember what happened after that.
I blocked him like all the other callers and turned off my phone.
And picked up pizzas for Thanksgiving.

Weekly Challenge #966 – PICK TWO Throwaway, Flight, Once more with passion!, Blood pressure, Engine, Roast

The next topic is Safe

NORVAL JOE

Mrs. Withybottom shouted from upstairs, “Father’s awake and he’s thrashing around.”

At her voice, a butler stepped into the entry and frowned.

Linoliamanda asked, “What shall we do?”

Billbert took out his phone, “I’m calling an ambulance.”

An eternity later, a fire engine and ambulance roared up the drive. The paramedics raced up the stairs with a stretcher.

Huddled below the stairs, they clearly heard one of the medics shout, “His blood pressure is falling. We need to get him to the hospital right now.”

Moments later they were hurrying down the stairs with Mr. Withybottom strapped to the gurney.

SERENDIPIDY

I had no idea what the smell was, but although it was rather strong, it wasn’t particularly unpleasant, and it wasn’t the sort of smell you’d normally associate with car problems.
So, I simply carried on driving, anxious to get home and start cooking supper for the family.
Finally, I pulled into the driveway and got out of the car.
The smell was much stronger now, and it seemed to be coming from the engine bay.
Turned out to be some sort of animal… Cat, dog, fox? I really couldn’t tell.
Perfectly roast, on the engine block.
That’s supper sorted!

TOM

Stress Test Lungs on Fire.

The doctor through away the first EKG. He cried “Once more with passion! “, the treadmill rose towards the ceiling. I became quite light headed, a flight of angles circling round my eyes. Giant gears spun below my feet like some medieval engine of the inquisition demanding truth rooting out my paper-thin cover story. “Blood pressure nearly at critical Escape velocity, breaking free from the gravitational pull of our celestial body.” Yelled the nurse over the roar of the wind. “My toast, will be roast, If you crank that infernal machine an angle higher.” I gasped. Somewhere a fuse blow.

LIZZIE

The very moment the Ferris wheel started rotating, there was this weird grumbling sound, followed by a sharp metallic groan. He yelled “get me out of here” to no avail. His blood pressure hit the roof when he heard a snapping sound. That was it, he was going to die. The wheel tilted to one side and crashed against the rocks. Yes, “thank you, god, I just broke my back, my legs and an arm, but I’ll be fine”. Why, you may ask. Well, insurance. A fortune. He never told anyone about that wrench he had stuck in the engine.

RICHARD

— Fear of Flying —
I’ve always been terrified of flying.
I know you can probably quote statistics that say it’s safer than crossing the road, or more people die from being kicked by donkeys than in plane crashes, but I really don’t find that reassuring.
As far as I’m concerned, there’s a million things that can go horribly wrong on a flight. What if an engine were to catch fire, or the plane were to be taken over by terrorists?
It’s not as if you can take cover, or make a hasty exit to safety!
Perhaps I shouldn’t have chosen to be a pilot!

PLANET Z

I barely drive my car, and when I drive it, I don’t go too far.
It’s a plug-in hybrid, and I’m almost always driving on electric.
I barely go a thousand miles a year.
I get an alert that my car is five months overdue for maintenance.
I dismiss it, but there’s a little icon on the dash with a warning symbol.
It’s not a check engine light or a low tire pressure alert, so everything is fine.
If it’s not, the car wouldn’t start, and I can call the shop to come pick it up and fix the problem.

Count Your Blessings

Unlike Count Dracula, Count Your Blessings is a good vampire.
He’s polite and loves children.
Not in a “drink their blood” kind of way, either.
But as in a pay for their education and sponsor softball teams kind of way.
The smart ones, he sends to college to study engineering and technology.
His castle is a hotbed of science and innovation.
He doesn’t drink the blood of any innocents.
He only drinks the blood of the criminals we bring to him.
Speeding is just a fine for a first-time offense.
Here’s your ticket.
And I suggest you not speed again.