Author: R.

Weekly Challenge #894 – Stand

The next topic is Canyon… and, yes, I know I screwed this up.

LISA

Swipe and Pay on the Last Bus of the Day

It was standing room only, always the same on a rainy Saturday night, a sea of vacant faces and glazed expressions. I was sandwiched between a woman with a lot to say and a good looking man, I found out later, called Paul.

The bus jerked us about. Someone nearby really needed to wash their neck. Paul and I collided for the whole journey. We apologised whilst sharing an uncomfortable look then awkwardly got off at the same stop.

Thankfully he hadn’t noticed his missing card; I did a food shop bought some shoes then threw it into the Clyde.

RICHARD

Old Boy’s Club

“So, Sedgwick, where do you stand on the fairer sex?”

“I beg your pardon”, I replied, momentarily distracted from savouring my brandy.

“Women, old chap! Some of the boys think we should allow them into the club, are you for, or against it?”

The Clarrington was one of the more forward-looking gentlemen’s clubs, but even so, some things are sacrosanct.

I took another appreciative sip of Brandy.

“No, women have their place, and The Clarrington is not that place.”

“Jolly good, old boy” He checked his fob watch, “Now, drink up, the pole dancing girls will be starting soon!”

LIZZIE

They said “You can become filthy rich being a travel blogger”. He believed them. One day, a guy said “You’re a wuss.” He was no wuss. He was a King. “Off with his head!” He’d always wanted to say that. His kingdom. An old mattress, a dusty rug, a lamp. He could walk a few feet to the left and a few feet to the right. Thirty years, till the parole board decided he could leave. He did have some incense burning. It made him look normal. The severed head in his backpack was sloppy. Oh, well, stand still, Zen…!

SERENDIPIDY

Teacher made me stand in the corner. She was always making me do that; I reckon she got a kick from it. What sort of person takes pleasure from exerting their authority over a kid like that?

I wasn’t bothered about spending time in the corner, it gave me plenty of opportunity to plot and plan, it was more about the embarrassment of being singled out and made to look a fool.

Another bonus of facing the corner, was that it allowed me slip my gun from where I’d hidden it.

Time that teacher got singled out, by me.

TOM

Stand

I’m child of the 50s. I cut my music teeth on the Chicago Silver Dollar Survey. A top 40s kid. A system best described by Joni Mitchell in Free Man in Paris: Stoking the star maker machinery Behind the popular song. This all changed in the 80s with the rise of Alternative rock. Thinking man’s rock. I totally embraced REM’s Stand with its super bubble-gummy pop bounce, so reminisceic of The Banana Splits, The Archies, 1910 Fruit Gum Company and The Monkees. “Your feet are going to be on the ground. Your head is there to move you around.” Yup.

NORVAL JOE

Not wanting to have to make a stand against the two burley teenagers, Billbert leapt into the air. Linoliamanda rose with him, but stopped, as Sabrina remained, standing on the ground as solid as any rock.
Billbert dropped back to the ground. “I can’t stand this.”
Sabrina pointed to a stand of trees. “We can hide in there. Maybe fight them off.”
“No. It’s no use.” He thrust his other hand to Sabrina. “Let’s give it one more try.”
Sabrina took Billberts hand forming a three person circle.
Billbert barely thought about it and they rose into the air, together.

PLANET Z

They.
They tell us to sit.
They tell us to stand.
They tell us to put our hands over our heads.
They tell us to put our hands down.
They tell us to sit again.
They tell us to smile.
They tell us to stop smiling.
Stop smiling, right now.
They tell us to stand.
And tell us to sit again.
They tell us to do a lot of things.
Over. And over.
Until they stopped.
Because we told them to stop.
We told them to sit down.
We told them to stop smiling.
We are no longer their slaves.

George the character

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Some say there never really was a George.
They say that George was a made-up character that other pirates would wear as a disguise so they could do all the things they couldn’t do as themselves.
Kind of like how Andy Kaufman and Bob Zmuda invented Tony Clifton, an obnoxious drunk lounge singer.
“You never see George in the same room as Rummy Bill,” people would say.
So Sneaky Peter dressed as George and was seen with Rummy Bill.
George watched all this and laughed.
And became Tony Clifton.

George’s bullwhip

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
After he saw the lion tamer act at the circus, he traded in his cutlass and pistols for a bullwhip.
He practiced with it a lot, much to the chagrin of his shipmates, who learned quickly not to smoke cigarettes out on deck.
“HIYAH!” shouted George, as he lashed the bullwhip.
It struck a pirate’s ear with a loud crack, and they spat out their cigarette.
“Hey, I did manage to knock the cigarette out of your mouth,” said George.
The pirate tried to strangle George with the bullwhip.

George claims a land

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He walked along a beach, thrust a flag pole into the sand, and he proclaimed:
I CLAIM THIS LAND IN THE NAME OF THE PIRATE NATION!
A crowd surrounded George… and took selfies with him.
And they tossed coins and currency into a basket by the flag pole.
Some looked up his merch site on the web… plastic cutlasses, little George pirate dolls.
After a few minutes, George pulled up the flag pole, picked up the basket, and went back to the bar.
To wait for the next show.

George’s deathbed

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Not that this mattered to George.
George knew lots of good pirates, and a few great ones, too.
Many of them were dead.
None of them spent their last moments wishing that they’d been better pirates.
Maybe a few wished that they’d been better swordsmen so they could have blocked the slash or thrust that eventually killed them.
And the ones who drowned, they probably wished they’d learned to swim.
“So what if I’m a lousy pirate?” thought George. “I’m alive.”
He smiled happily as he swabbed the deck.

George in the library

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
While the ship was in dock for repairs, all of the other pirates wenched and caroused and made nuisances of themselves.
George preferred to spend his time in libraries, poring through old illuminated manuscripts and ancient scrolls.
“Are you looking for clues to buried treasure?” asked a monk.
“Yes,” said George. “The greatest treasure can be found in libraries.”
The monk patted George on the back and went back to his prayers.
George smiled, slipped another book into his satchel, and went to the stacks for more to steal.

George’s endless cycle

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He spent a lot of time in port, waiting for opportunities to loot, pillage, and steal.
But there weren’t many these days.
Bored, he cut a section of canvas from his sails.
Then he’d wet and stretch it over a wooden frame he made from the timbers of his ship.
And he’d paint.
He sold his paintings to tourists, and by the time he ran out of sailcloth and timbers from his ship, he’d made enough money to buy a new ship.
And he’d get bored all over again.

Weekly Challenge #893 – Moisture

The topic of the next weekly challenge is Stand

RICHARD

Alan

Alan always had to be right.

What do you want to go to the rainforest for? You won’t enjoy it?’

That’s putting it mildly: I’d hated every second of the trip.

You’ll almost certainly get lost!’

Right, again. I’d never been more lost in my life.

You probably won’t make it back.’

Unfortunately, that was certainly beginning to look like a real possibility.

It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity that’ll kill you.’

Almost right. The moisture that filled the air, made it hard to breathe; but, it wouldn’t kill me.

However the snake bite would.

Not always right, Alan!

LISA

A Thermos Flask Borrowed off Nanna

It’s 1982. The car journey from Leicester to Dad’s mate’s caravan in Cornwall takes roughly 400 years. We go every year. My younger brother is exploring the moist contents of his nostrils, and on the other side of me the older one is reading a well illustrated book about insects.

At the services we stare at a poster for iced coke while a cup of tea, that tastes more of plastic cup than tea, is passed around. A big lorry rumbles past and the thermos falls off the dashboard and smashes.

It proves to be the highlight of the holiday.

LIZZIE

Plants need a lot of moisture. So, he bought an industrial moisturizing machine for his greenhouse. The plants were happy. Their growth was impressive, he had to admit. At some point, he thought about removing the moisturizer but he went on vacation and forgot about it completely. When he got back, the roof of the greenhouse had burst open. Everything was of an industrial size, the plants, some birds that flew inside, even the ants. He should’ve suspected. That’s why the damn moisturizer was so cheap. It was all over the news. Industrial contamination was turning everything into giants, people included.

SERENDIPIDY

The car might have been abandoned, but the ticking of the engine as it cooled, and the occasional, almost imperceptible rocking on its suspension told me it was just parked up.

Not many cars made it this deep into the forest.

I approached cautiously.

A film of moisture obscured the inside of the windows; they were clearly enjoying themselves, and were completely oblivious to my presence.

Hand, resting lightly on the door handle, I wondered if they’d plead for mercy, or run for their lives.

Either way, it would be good sport.

And I was the one holding the shotgun.

TOM

Not Happy

If you come from Chicago or New York, you think your pretty much humidity badass. Heat – wet got that covered. Power through, get the job done, wring out your shirt, flip on the AC. I had no idea there was a place on earth that excelled in full impact Moisture. In Florida I met my match. It’s bad enough your body is coat 24 -7 multiple layers of perpetual film, but every centimeter of your lungs are drowning in wet. Actually, film would be a kind description, goo would be more accurate. Give me phoenix where moisture work in your favor.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert took a hand of each of the girl’s in his and jumped into the air. None of them went anywhere and the teenage knights were running their direction. Moisture breaking out across his forehead, he tried again. And again, they remained firmly on the spongy forest soil.
Linoliamanda dropped Billbert’s hand. “Take Sabrina. They don’t really want me. I’ll be okay.”
Sabrina’s eyes lit up. “You heard the girl. Let’s go.”
“No!” To Sabrina’s shock, he shook off her grip and then grasped Linoliamanda’s hand again.
Sabrina looked like she would cry, until Billbert said, “Now, take Linoliamanda’s hand.”

PLANET Z

It rained last night.
I’d gotten my car washed.
The guy with the sticker scanner asked about the paint scrape on the left side.
Where I’d hit the pole at the electric charger.
“We can buff that out,” he said.
The scrape was down to the primer, no way they could do that.
Needed to go to the dealer for a new panel.
I didn’t respond, I just drove up to the car wash track, put it in neutral.
After the wash, I drove home and parked out in the lot.
No cover. No trees.
And it rained last night.

George’s panic attack

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
And he knew it.
When the captain said that he wanted to talk to George, George’s mind began to race.
What did he do now? How much trouble was he in?
Was he going to be fired, and forced to clear out his bunk, and have to walk past his shipmates in shame?
Or even worse, made to walk the plank into shark-infested waters?
George panicked and collapsed.
The captain sighed, and left George’s teddybear in his arm.
“Fool keeps leaving it in the galley,” he mumbled to himself.

George the Pirates fan

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was a good Pittsburgh Pirates fan, though.
Every now and then, he went to the games, and people mistook him as the mascot.
They’d take selfies with George.
Usually, it was kids. Or drunk fans.
George made a lot of tips this way.
Soon, other pirates went to the ballpark, looking for easy money.
The team tried to ban pirates from the games, but they had trouble telling the difference between pirates and fans.
So, they hired George as a consultant.
He made even more money this way.