Weekly Challenge #1047 – Railing

The next topic is Give Up

LISA

The Railing of Lost Things

There’s a railing where the Portobello Road meets Westway: The Railing of Lost Things. People travel to leave their finds on it. It has single gloves, socks and wellies. Scarves flap in the breeze and rusting keys nestle where the rails join the floor.
It’s an impossibly beautiful curation… a place for the faded, sun scorched and old. I visit when I’m that side of town. Remembering the day that I met my husband there all those years ago; as I wove a blanket through the metal posts hoping someone cold would find it and claim it as their own.

RICHARD

Expressly Forbidden

As a lad, I loved trains.
A railway line ran past the end of our school playing field, and during break times and lunch, a bunch of us used to congregate there to watch the trains passing.
Sometimes, we’d sneak on to the line, clambering over the railing to place coins on the track, to be flattened as the trains thundered over them.
It was a laugh, and we were always very careful.
Well, maybe not always.
One sunny Spring day, my best friend Brian lingered on the line, just a little too long.
I don’t like trains any more.

LIZZIE

The stairs to the basement had no railing. “No one ever goes down there anyway,” he said. One day, they decided to sell the house. There was nothing but a small apothecary cabinet with empty drawers in the basement. “Who put this here?” She shrugged. “Garbage.” That’s when the problems started. He tripped and hit his head on the corner of the cabinet. She twisted an ankle and he dislocated a shoulder while trying to move it. Enough was enough. They decided to leave it behind. The cabinet whispered “Railing”. They rushed to sell the house for half its worth.

TOM

If only ..

On the surface one might consider railing and kvetching of equal stature. While both zero-in on projected state of displeasure, Kvetching is in a league of its own. Railing is an end in itself, a purge of injustice, seeking resolution. To kvetch is to drag everyone within ear shoot through the nine rings of hell. If done correctly an infinite chain of propositions each expressly delivered with a world weary voice fill with hopelessness. While I am quite skill at railing on and on. I do not have the endurance to kvetch out. I lack the guile and the wit.

SERENDIPIDY

The great stone sarcophagus in the corner of the cemetery is rather impressive. Wreathed in ivy, and covered with the moss of ages, it stands alone in its own remote dedicated plot.
Like so many of its kind, it is surrounded by a wrought iron railing.
Unlike other plots however, the railing is topped with razor wire, coated with anti -climb paint, and bears numerous bright yellow warning notices attached on all sides.
These measures are not designed to keep trespassers and curious onlookers out, but rather, to keep someone safely and securely confined inside.
Welcome, to my humble abode.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert followed Mandi out of her room to the railing of the stairs, looking down on the main floor of the house.

She turned to him, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Billbert. This was something I had to do. You can do whatever you want. Say whatever you want. Just don’t ask me about the ring and don’t take it off.”

Billbert held up his hands, about to ask why, but found he couldn’t put the question into words. Eventually, he just said. “Okay, then. What do we do now?”

Mandi shrugged. “Maybe we should make something to eat.”

LEWIE

Title: Steam-Powered Summer
The couple leaned against the decorative railing of the Delta Queen, admiring the view of the natural vegetation along the shores of the Mississippi River.

Behind them, the steam-powered calliope organ was playing a joyful tune, echoing back from the valleys.

Their excitement was building, as they would be next to get a chance to learn how to play it, and be rewarded with a certificate.

Decades later, long after a divorce, their son would find an old framed photograph of the beautiful steam-powered paddle boat on her wall, showing that his mother still cherished that moment in time.

PLANET Z

It’s been a long time since I’ve lived above the ground floor. I think the last time was when I was on the third floor of a new apartment complex. We had a small balcony and a railing, but we never went out there. One day, my roommate left the door open, and I knew this because I saw one of my cats balanced on the railing, but not balancing all that well. I got up and ran to the balcony and grabbed her just as she was about to fall. I don’t think we ever went out there again.

Late scribbles

Toby came up with really good ideas late at night. He’d be brushing his teeth or putting on a night shirt for climbing the bed and an idea we just hit them. But you didn’t have a notepad by his nightstand. So he’d forget them in the morning trying to remember what he’d come up with. He tried using the voice assistant on his phone to remember things for him, but he’d be so sleeping groggy, the voice to text would come out incomprehensible. Eventually, he put a pad and pen on the nightstand, but all he made were scribbles.

Bad reception

After the wildfire destroyed part of the city, the mayor and city council promised they do everything to help rebuild. But despite millions of dollars spent on planning and outreach, not a single environmental impact regulation or building code or contract was addressed. Eventually, the frustrated homeowners enlisted dozens of homeless people to raid the mayor and city council‘s homes and build campfires in their fancy living rooms. Their suburban mansions all burned down. The fire chief was lambasted for the slow response. He shrugged and said I was off duty, and the hotel I’m in has lousy cell reception.

Early retirement

After months of job hunting, I’ve picked up a lot of good tips for questions to ask during interviews. Not that I get a lot of interviews. A lot of places use AI to filter out applications before a human ever sees them, let alone you have a chance at a face-to-face interview. But one of the good ones is why is this job opportunity open. You can find out if somebody got promoted or if they downsized and are re-hiring. I asked it as an assistant in a magicians knife throwing act. He said early retirement.

Our princess

I’m sure you’ve heard of the phrase thank you, Mario, but our princess is in another castle. Well it turns out that our princess likes to hang out at the White Castle Thursday nights and sure enough. She’s getting her sliders and Dr Pepper fix tonight. We probably should’ve told you because instead of dodging mushrooms and fireballs and bridges and some giant turtle dude, it’s a lot easier to find a parking space at the White Castle and walk in. Although if you hang around, sometimes she gets her order to go, and she brings back a little extra.

Tanking the season

I’ve been a Houston Astros fan for a pretty long time, back when they were good then they got to the World Series somehow, then they really sucked, and then they were good and cheated, and we’re still good until they really started to slide. Now, instead of catching their games on TV or through streaming from the Internet, I watch all the commentators bitch about how much they suck. It’s a lot more entertaining and a hell of a lot less anxiety about watching the actual games. I know they’ll lose, the only mystery is how and how badly.

Keep the farm

Papa Joe made Papa Wally, my daddy, promise not to sell the farm.
Daddy kept his promise, but when he gave me the farm, he also gave me overdue property tax bills.
All our neighbors had left with the money developers gave them, and the developers built all these houses.
Those families didn’t want us to sell out to developers, so they bribe me to keep the farm as a kind of nature preserve.
Even more than the cost of the property taxes. And your college bills.
Just keep talking to the developers to scare up their bribes a bit.

Weekly Challenge #1046 – Complete idiot

The next topic is Railing

LEWIE

The newspaper described John as an idiot. Frustrated, he threw the paper down in his lap.

“That editor is a complete idiot,” he said.

His wife, well aware of the outdated clinical classifications, asked, “How does that compare to an incomplete idiot?”

John stared at her, irritated, trying to understand her point.

“He called me an idiot,” he explained.

“The last I checked, both you and he had PhDs.” she replied. “I don’t think that word means what you think it means.”

John grumbled behind the newspaper, “As you wish”, and continued reading the article written by a complete idiot.

RICHARD

Qualified Opinion
Correct me if I’m wrong: it seems to me that these days that to hold a position of leadership in politics, the primary qualification is to be a complete idiot.
Gone are the days when integrity, honesty and the capacity to hold one’s own in a debate without resorting to crudity and insults were key qualities of one in such positions.
Neither do you need to champion, listen to, or otherwise care about the people you represent.
Maybe it’s time we made them wear the red noses, make-up and giant shoes, and fool around like the clowns they clearly are.

LISA

A Subscription Kit
It’s something I can’t miss out on. The first collaboration with Lego and a subscription provider. A weekly lego delivery offering the chance to build a limited edition piece over a year.
I sign up immediately.
Initially, it’s reasonably priced. And then it doubles. And then the cost doubles again. And I can’t back out because although it’s only one tiny block I’m getting a month I need to finish to see the bigger picture.
By Christmas I’ve built a small frame. The last issue contains a little mirror and a tube of glue. My complete idiot lego kit done.

LIZZIE

The ticket booth was empty.
“I guess it’s free today.”
When he entered the fairgrounds, a man chasing him yelled, “Ticket, ticket!”
He explained that he did try to buy a ticket.
The man waved his hand dismissively.
“How many?”
He replied, “One.”
The man looked at him. “Now you must pay for two.”
“Two?! Why?”
“Because I say so.”
Wrong answer, he thought. “Do you have a death wish?”
The man blinked.
“Give me one ticket.”
The man gave him one ticket and charged him for two.
Good thing there was a loose plank right next to the booth.

SERENDIPIDY

Only a complete idiot would leave their fingerprints and DNA all over the scene of a crime they’d just committed, right?
Naturally, I don’t consider myself to be an idiot, so I always take particular care to avoid contaminating the scene with any evidence that might incriminate me.
Paper overalls, gloves and a face mask are essential; hilariously, I employ exactly the same approach as the forensic investigators who come after me!
However, you will find plenty of fingerprints and other evidence all over my handiwork.
It’s stuff I’ve kept from my previous victim: call it, recycling, if you like!

TOM

To long a list to even index by topic.

Complete idiot is my default state. Rushing head long into some enterprise way out side my skill level. I would not be so bad if it didn’t impact someone counting on the success of the final effect. Once someone ask be to build a two feq. dome in their bedroom. I used a tight grain pine, beautiful warm brown. And the miters prefect, edges chamfering. All had to do it put a clear seal, but no I decided to paint it Robin Egg blue. Yes, Complete Idiot, client rejected it. Lost major coin on that project and a second commission.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert held up his hands. “Now I’ve got a ring on each of my hands. No one else at school wears even one. I’ll feel like a complete idiot.”

He started to pull the ring from his finger.

Mandi blurted, “Don’t take it off.”

Billbert’s hand, reaching for the ring, obediently dropped back to his lap.

He had a sinking feeling. He stood up and exclaimed, “Does this ring make me do whatever you tell me?”

She waved her hand at him. “Oh, be quiet. Of course not.”

Unable to speak, Billbert mouthed the words at Mandi, “I can’t talk.”

PLANET Z

Saint Mathurin is the Patron Saint of Idiots.
Not to be mistaken for Saint Simeon Salos, who looks after fools.
He himself was not a fool, he only pretended.
But between idiots and fools, there’s a difference.
Not that you’d notice, being an idiot.
Although Mathurin also looks after clowns, jesters, and plumbers.
I’m not sure how plumbers fits in with them.
They’re pretty smart, charging so much, while you’re the one standing there like a fool, staring at their asscrack as they fix a leak under the sink.
Speaking of which, here’s my bill.
Cash, please.
I’m no fool.

The fear of sundials

Doctors called Jeremy‘s fear of sundials irrational, but he had a perfectly valid reason to fear the diabolical contraptions. His father was found speared through the heart by a sundial in the families front yard. The strange thing was, they didn’t own a sundial. Perhaps that explained how his father wandered into the thing fatally. His fear extended to other yard bound timekeeping devices, such as orreries, Astrolabes, and even more arcane mechanisms. He only had a slight aversion to classic yard decorations, such as ceramic lawn gnomes and plastic pink flamingos. He eventually moved to an urban high-rise.

Ham King

Dan Hammond was the ham king of the Pacific Northwest. For years, trucks would bring pigs to his factory, and out came refrigerated trucks and rail cars full of pork products. One day, he announced a once in a lifetime opportunity for five kids to get an exclusive tour of his factory and a lifetime supply of pork products. But unlike Willy Wonka, nobody was buying up his bacon and ham and pigs knuckles and mass for the golden tickets. So his business went bankrupt and was bought by ConAgra conglomerate. Hundreds lost their jobs to automation and union busting.