Nose clean

The most important advice Jim ever got before going to prison was to keep his nose clean. However, it was really hard to get beauty products from the commissary, so he had to have them smuggled in. The warden and the guards at first would intercept and confiscate this contraband, but because Jim was trying to keep his nose clean, and Jim doing special favors, eventually, they let him have his way. Jim had the cleanest nose in the prison. Even his nose hairs were perfectly trimmed. Still, he got shivved during lunch and bled out while waiting for guards.

Weekly Challenge #1064 – My name is…

The next topic is Silence

RICHARD

What’s in a name?
The food was rather good. I was glad I’d splashed out on decent wine.
Sitting back in her chair, she gave me a quizzical look.
‘Go on then, I’m up for a laugh. Tell me your porn star name.’
This was awkward. I’d only posed as a porn star for a joke, I blurted out the first name that came to mind… ‘Erm, my name is Ivor Biggun!’
She laughed.
‘That’s not how it’s done, you can do better than that.’
I must have looked confused.
‘It’s your first pet’s name and your favourite band!’
‘Ah, ok. It’s… Fluffy Butthole!’

LIZZIE

“My name is… She stopped talking and started clicking. Everyone stared. For a full minute, she just clicked.”
“Wait. You have literally lifted this from that film.”
“No, I wrote this.”
“You didn’t. It’s from that alien film.”
“Ah, aliens. Right. In my story, there are no aliens. Something malfunctions in her brain and she stops using words.”
“Forever?”
“Yes!”
“Forever…?!”
“Well, I’m not sure. I’m not that far into the story. I was thinking something neurological.”
“Ah, ok. My name is… Mrs. ClickClick.”
“Funny…”
“Get a better story. And don’t lift any idea from a film again.”
“I didn’t!”

LISA

A Tricky Question for a Tuesday
The rain tapped at the open window. The wall clock ticked away the hours. The scent of petunias drifted into the Drs office; white, austere. Posters shouted the dangers of smoking, missing vaccinations and too much sugar. An ordinary Thursday.
Holly pondered the question a little longer, inhaled, then began,
“My name is…”
A roll of distant thunder and a darkening sky.
“My name is…”
Daughter, Alice, squeezed her hand and let slip an uncomfortable smile.
A flash. Bright and shocking. Lightning followed swiftly by a deep boom of thunder.
Holly tried again, “My name is…” a big smile, “Rumplestiltskin?”

SERENDIPIDY

My name is immaterial.
It is unimportant and of no consequence.
I’ve always held the opinion that actions speak louder than words, so if I’m going to be known for anything it will be what I do, rather than the name I go by, that matters.
Still, one has to stand out from the crowd; to be uniquely identifiable.
So, although my name is unknown, my signature is no secret:
A playing card – the three of clubs – folded in half, and placed in the mouth of my victim.
What it means matters not.
It is my signature.
Who I am.

NORVAL JOE

At the car, Sabrina wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffed, and held a hand toward Linoliamanda. “Give me my backpack, Lindymindy.”

Her face flushed. “My name is Mandi. You know that, and I wish you wouldn’t be so rude to me.”

Though Mandi held the backpack to her, Sabrina snatched it away and slung it over her shoulder. “We have more important things to worry about than your tender feelings.”

Sabrina climbed into the backseat of the Weinerheimer car without another word.

The other three paused, stunned by Sabrina’s behavior before they all got into the car as well.

TOM

Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends

My name is Timmy. That bastard Tom has been killing me off story after story for 20 years. I was Kenny before Kenny was a thing. The only one having more grief here at the challenge was the midget At least he got to retire to Florida. It’s been trying, but I think I can wait him out. Not getting any younger there. Five years tops. Dear SERENDIPITY hows-bout we do a bit of ghost writing? Catch my drift? Man is a heavy sleeper. Just saying. So, what happens to me this week? Juggling flaming chainsaws on a unicycle. Great.

PLANET Z

All of the gods of all time gathered. So many pantheons. So many planets, galaxies, and dimensions. So many eras and civilizations. All powerful, all knowing, all loving. Loki of the Norwegian gods put out a massive table of my name is stickers, but nobody needed them. Even the most obscure patron of methane from a far distant gas giant was known to all. Gods tended to stand with their Ra and not their common domains. Thor stood with the Norwegians, raw stood with the Egyptians. Yahweh stood alone, sipping his wine. The gathering adjourned, and everyone went back home.

Audiobooks

Danny had a pretty long commute, so he’d load Audiobooks on his phone and play them through his speakers. And he really enjoyed having the storytelling companion without getting too distracted from his drive. However, over time software developers love to add features to everything. Piling on bells and whistles while the core technology fails. Danny had to restart the audiobook applications multiple times during his drive, which was distracting. Danny tried to listen to music and talk radio instead, but those kept fading and failing, and he crashed his car. At least in the hospital, the crappy television worked.

Mildred

Mildred is my father‘s aunt, but we all call her aunt Mildred. Once, I called her great aunt, my mother took me aside and slapped me a few times. Never call her that. Years later, after Mildred died my parents retired to her house out in the country, I never took my kids out to see them. When my mother would call and ask when we were going out there, I’d say maybe next weekend. When she’d ask to talk to them on the phone, I’d say they were asleep or at school, which hit her hard as any slap.

Spacewalk

Mission control sent up a plaque with the newest crew. It’s for Frankie, commemorating the fact that he was the record holder for the longest time out in space. He’s going back down with the rest of us. Toasting a guy with wine and pouches isn’t quite the same as clinking glasses together. We’ll do that when we get back down. The plaque doesn’t mention the fact that Frankie cracked up from being up here too long and try to go out the airlock without a suit. There wasn’t much we could do for him, but bag his body up.

Omalley

After the heart attack, Mulligan said he’d be retiring and closing the bar. O’Malley, his lead bartender, offered to buy it. He hosted the retirement party and we all gathered around and toasted Mulligan. Just like when we toasted Grady when he had his heart attack and retired and sold the bar to Mulligan. in a few years, O’Malley will have a heart attack and retire and sell the bar to one of his bartenders. The photos on the wall show a few hundred years of retirement parties. The faces change, but the bar lives on, and the beer flows.

Extra special senior lead manager

Henry interviewed for a manager role. Do you think he did well on the interview? Yes. They liked his answers. However, based on his years of experience, they thought that he might have been a little overqualified. So they posted a senior manager role and he applied for it and interviewed for it. But it still seemed like it was beneath him. So they posted a lead manager role and he applied for an interview and nailed it.. Many years later, they got to extra special, senior lead manager, they said he was too old and didn’t get the job.

BPB

I remember back in college when a roommate dated a girl and said she passed the paper bag test and I thought he meant he could put a paper bag over her head to look good, but that didn’t make sense. She was pretty and she took care of her makeup and hair and didn’t have crooked teeth. Only later did I find out he said that because she was biracial. And the test is if her skin is darker than a paper bag, don’t date her. Which now makes sense, since she never wore a bag over her head.

Weekly Challenge #1063- Frostbite

The next topic is My name is…

RICHARD

Frostbitten
I told you about that time I unwittingly told my future boss I was a porn star, right?
It wasn’t exactly career suicide, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t do me any favours either.
On her first day as my manager, I was called into her office and she gave me a look so cold it could cause frostbite.
‘I hope you don’t intend bringing any of your questionable immoral behaviours into this office, while I’m in charge’ she said sternly.
I assured her I wouldn’t.
‘Good. You can save them for after work. My place, tonight. Bring wine!’

LISA

The Man in the Library
An old gentleman, he’s in daily but doesn’t speak to anyone. He has no interest in the books or the papers. He wears a suit, an old suit that has an almost iridescent sheen through age. There’s a thin pin stripe to it; possibly faded.
His skin is beyond pale, a white almost grey transparent covering. If he wasn’t walking around you’d assume it the ashen skin of a dead man.
He sits and watches everything. Rises.
Shakes the librarian’s hand.
Leaves.
Regardless of the weather outside, his touch is always cold. In winter that handshake practically gives you frostbite.

SERENDIPIDY

Back in the days when I had a proper job, health and safety wasn’t quite as it is now.
I worked in a meat processing factory and one of my co-workers really had it in for me.
We had one of those big walk-in freezers, but back then, they didn’t have safety locks. He shoved me inside and locked the door.
Thankfully, I was found soon after, but not before I’d lost three fingers to frostbite.
Years later, I got my own back, in my own special way.
His body’s downstairs now, in my chest freezer.
A fitting end!

LIZZIE

When words stumble through the page in a wave of sorrow, tears morn a future unlived. When a smile brings a tightness to the heart, one pauses just to breathe, a foggy gaze peering through, an overwhelming sadness stifling one’s fears. Numbness creeps through the cracks of one’s soul and one swears never to feel this chill again. And yet, it returns. Word after word. Tear after tear, the pages pacing relentlessly, gnawing at what remains…

“What? I thought it’d be a children’s story this time,” said Mouse. “The darn book shifted again… This online sorcery course is total nonsense.”

NORVAL JOE

Joan Weinerheimer put her arm around Sabrina. “Don’t cry, dear. We’ll get your things and get out of here quickly.”

They made their way to the stairs to the basement. The more they progressed, the colder it got in the house.

Billbert shivered. “We need to hurry or we’ll all get frostbite.”

In the basement, frost clung to the window and exposed metal pipes.

Sabrina’s backpack and unopened suitcase sat on the floor, next to the ropes previously used to restrain her.

“Grab her things,” Billbert’s mother said. “We need to get out. I think this house has been cursed.”

TOM

Red Christmas

The old witch on Maple Street rolled up a snowman on her lawn. The kids creeped up to the grinning coal eyed horror. “Closer, my pretty-s,” rasped the snowman,” I’m frosty. Want to have some fun?” Timmy the bravest and stupidest of us grabbed the carrot nose. Being the little monsters, we were, we moved in close to mock Frosty. The snowman wrapped Tim with his twiggy arms, took a bit out of his neck. In quick order we were all bleeding of Frostbit. As Timmy’s eye turn from blue to white, Frosty suggested we head down to the mall.

PLANET Z

The road leading to Ray Kinsella‘s farm was packed with cars. They didn’t know why they were driving there. After all, Ray was the jackass who had plowed up his field to build a baseball park. They parked wherever they could park, here were only a few small bleachers, no concessions, no restrooms. Some lined up to use the bathroom in the house while others just went out into the field to piss. Those who returned came back smiling, calm, as if they’ve seen something glorious. Others never returned. The next day, they blamed it all on a gas leak.

Woodsman

The Tin Woodman wasn’t always made out of Tin. He started off made out of a woodsman. But he had broken the heart of a witch, and she cursed his ax to cut him up. Every time he cut something off, a friendly Tin Smith replaced it. After a few misgivings, he was entirely made out of Tin. He tried to kill the evil witch, but she had cursed the ax to not harm her. Fuck it, said the woodsman. And he bought a chainsaw. I should’ve been using this long ago. And chopped up the witch. Embrace technology, bitches.