George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
When George wasn’t out on the high seas, he was in the wrestling ring under the name of The Almighty George.
George was as good a wrestler as he was a pirate, so he lost a lot of matches and collected many cuts and bruises.
So George became a heel and patsy, making hero wrestlers look good by beating him.
Doormat George was dragged around so many rings, thrown against every turnbuckle and rope, and pinned to every mat.
George returned to the ship and hung up his mask.
Author: R.
George’s rescue
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He wrecked the ship for the umpteenth time, finding himself stranded on an island with no food and no fresh water.
He sorted through the wreckage washing ashore, salvaging what he could.
There was some rum, some hardtack.
It kept him going as he assembled the wood and rope into a crude raft.
By the time he finished the raft, another pirate ship was sailing by the island.
George lit the raft on fire and shouted to signal them.
But it was too late. The ship kept sailing on.
Weekly Challenge #874 – Diet
The next weekly challenge topic is: Point, Heat, Carrots, Rust, Wafer-thin, Creep
SCRIBBLING WREN
Mr Tibbles Special Diet
Paula had him from a kitten. His once luxurious coat was matted and shed hair as he limped by. He’d lost the leg while he was sat in the road washing.
Because of a kidney problem he could only eat expensive food from the vets. It was measured out twice daily. After his second 25g meal he sat meowing by the window until Paula opened it to let him out.
Outside he ate the remains of a KFC Bargain Bucket from the bin, drank from a brackish puddle while Paula watched, thinking it was probably time for a new cat.
LIZZIE
Diet is such a wonderful word, he thought. The thought of restraining yourself from eating what you want is delightful. Saying “no, thank you, I am full” when you’ve been eyeing that food for the past half hour is enchanting. And the taunting sneers… They think those “no, thank yous” are as fake as their boobs and their mustaches tinted black. And when, in a moment of sheer restraint, you stab just one of them in the eye, then all is well. You don’t have to worry anymore. You’ll eat what’s given to you. Diet is such a wonderful word.
RICHARD
Weighty matters
It was one of those loaded questions. You know the sort, the ones that come out of the blue from nowhere, leaving you no choice but to answer, and whatever answer you give, you’re damned!
“Should I go on a diet?”
I busied myself with my breakfast, hoping she’d let it pass, but knowing my fate was sealed.
“Well?” She gave me a steely look. “Am I overweight? Should I go on a diet?”
I sighed, and smiled at her.
“You don’t need to diet… You just need to buy bigger clothes!”
Well, it seems that was the wrong answer.
TOM
It’s All In The Deliver
The great theologian Rasmus of Tent had a flamboyant presentation style. When speaking of the great parting of the empire, he placed a larger glass bottle on the podium filled with an abundance of night-crawlers. He waited. The students look on in dark silence. Smiling he offered an eclectic hint. “Heylshof Garden.“ Silence. Then another: Charles V And yet another Frederick III. Walking to the front ring of chairs he whispered into the ear of his prized pupil. Beaming he announced: Diet of Worms. Ryely Rasmus stated “happily while Luther branded a hectic he wasn’t asked to dine on same.
SERENDIPIDY
I’m a very ordinary, average type of person: Not too short, nor too tall, fairly slim, not tending towards fat, and unremarkable when it comes to looks – I’m no supermodel, but then again, I’m not butt-ugly either.
If you happened to pass me in the street, you might spare me a second glance, but then again, you might simply pass me by, without even noticing.
They do say that a balanced diet is a good thing, and I can’t disagree.
Cannibalism needn’t be unhealthy, you just need to be choosy.
And, I’m living proof, you are what you eat!
NORVAL JOE
As if to prove her assertion that Billbert’s touch increased her magical powers, Sabrina reached out and put her hand on his. As she did her eyes went wide. “Oh no!” She gasped and looked at the door to the ice cream parlor.
Two hulking teenagers blocked the exit. With hair so greasy and their faces covered with pimples they must be living on a diet of potato chips and French fries, the girl of the two growled, “We are of the Dark Knights. We have your friend, Lanolin. If you want her to live, you must come with us.”
PLANET Z
It’s been a while since I last wrote a new story here.
I’ve been diagnosed with a lot of conditions, and they all overlap in their symptoms as well as their impact on each other.
An allergy to this, a sensitivity to that.
Medications for one aggravate the other.
Do this, change that, can’t eat anything on this list… or that list… but this list is… oh, wait… can’t eat that either.
Until it all becomes so much, my anxiety goes through the roof and into the stratosphere.
Here’s some pills for it.
Which cancel out all the other pills.
George takes the bus… or train.
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He’d been to a lot of cities all across the world, eating exotic foods and meeting strange and mysterious people, and every time he’d buy a fare card for the bus or the subway.
After a while, he had fare cards for dozens of cities, and he couldn’t remember which one was for which place.
So many colors and logos.
Oyster, Q Pass… who knew what these meant? Is this one for Boston? New York? Paris? Rome?
George made a few bucks selling the empty cards to unsuspecting tourists.
The news with George
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
This didn’t matter to the producer of Eyewitness News at 11.
They put an eyepatch on George, but it made it hard for him to read the Teleprompter.
And the false hook they put on his hand made it hard for him to hold the scripts.
“Why do I have scripts if there’s a Teleprompter?” he asked.
George got bored reading scripts to a camera.
He wanted to report from battles and adventures.
So, the producer changed George’s title to field correspondent, but he never sent back any reports.
George Calendar
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a good pirate.
But compared to other pirates, he wasn’t half bad looking.
So the publisher of The Pirate Calendar gave George a call and asked if he wanted to be in the next year’s calendar.
George agreed, and got fifty bucks for a two hour photoshoot.
When the calendar finally came out, George was disappointed to see that he was Mister February.
And it wasn’t even a leap year.
Nobody ever recognized him or asked him to sign his photo in the calendar.
And the next year, the calendar publisher didn’t call.
George vs Fred the Parrot
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He never quite got a hang of pirate-speak.
His parrot Fred, on the other hand, spoke pirate-speak fluently.
And the parrot would correct George’s speech.
“That’s pieces of eight,” said Fred. “Not pieces of seven, you dummy.”
After a while, George stopped talking, but the parrot would persist with his verbal abuse.
George refused to give in, so the obnoxious parrot began to mimic George’s voice saying stupid things.
Completely fed up, George made Fred walk the plank.
“You do know I can fly, right?” said the parrot, laughing.
George and the Werewolves
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was obsessed with werewolves, and he carried a gun and a bag full of silver bullets.
Every full moon, he’d completely lose his shit and shoot everything in sight.
“WEREWOLVES!” shouted George, firing off a few rounds at a lamp.
“Please stop destroying the furniture, George,” said the captain. “But if you must, try to conserve ammunition for real werewolves.”
“WEREWOLF!” shouted George, pointing the gun at the captain and pulling the trigger.
But he’d wasted all of his ammo on the lamp, and his gun was empty.
George in Oz
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
When a massive waterspout appeared in front of the ship, George failed to steer clear of it.
The ship spun up into the funnel and came crashing down on a town full of midgets.
After looting the gold and jewels from the ruins, George followed a yellow road for hours
He killed a dancing scarecrow and a lion before reaching a strange green castle.
Inside, he found an old man with a hot air balloon.
George hijacked it, and flew for hours.
Below, Krakatoa began to smoke and rumble.
Weekly Challenge #873 – Your Honor
… and next week’s topic is Diet
SCRIBBLING WREN
The Dark Stranger
“No further questions your honour.”
Everyone on the jury knew Peter was guilty. They’d known as soon as they saw him before anyone had said anything. Their deliberation would be over in record time. An instant unanimous decision, I mean, despite the lack of evidence he’d admitted he’d done it.
And so he was found guilty.
A sentence passed that meant he would never, school sports day or not, find himself in a field again.
Unlike his older brother, Doyle who never visited, continued to work as a PE teacher and never once said thank you for taking the rap.
JARED
Rachel knew she was onto something big. Huge. It’s the only reason she would ever be at a football game, naked but for a trenchcoat and sneakers, trying to be inconspicuous. Her informant set up the meet: streak the game, get caught, meet the go-between.
A whistle, a flash of yellow, and everyone’s attention was focused on the other side of the field. This was it. She threw off the coat and sprinted for the field.
She was tackled by two security guards almost immediately. She felt the one holding her by the legs slip something into her shoe. Success.
RICHARD
Judged
Judge Nicholson was a tyrant. We all hated having to appear before him. Whether prosecuting, or appearing for the defence, you knew you were in for a hard time.
He would berate, belittle and abuse you in court, and act up, putting on a show for the jury, spectators, and the press.
We all hated being there.
But, not today. Today, we’ve all crammed into the courtroom, both as professionals, and filling the public gallery.
Judge Nicholson was being tried for public indecency, and we were there ensuring he got everything he deserved.
So, how does it feel, your honour?
LIZZIE
“Your Honor, I must protest.”
“Object?”
“Ok, object.”
“Grounds?”
The lawyer shuffled through his papers.
“Your Honor.”
“Counselor.”
“The thing is…”
“Yes?”
The lawyer shuffled through his papers again.
“Your Honor, I…”
“Counselor, I am losing my patience. If you object, you must specify the grounds for your objection.”
“The footage is inadmissible.”
“Why?”
“It’s a film reel. How are we supposed to…”
“Is that my problem, Counselor?!”
“I must protest, your Honor.”
“Object, Counselor, object. Get out of my courtroom. Out!”
And off the lawyer went, protesting all the way. He should’ve paid more attention at Law School indeed.
SERENDIPIDY
You’ve probably heard it said that there’s no honour among thieves, but that’s not strictly true.
It may be the case for those common petty thieves and robbers that clog up our prisons and pollute our neighbourhoods, but amongst those of us with more specialist skills – those of us in the business of stealing the life force from our victims – you will certainly find honour, and respect for each other.
It’s purely practical, of course.
For very obvious reasons, you really don’t want to upset somebody whose business is killing – it’s simple self-preservation.
Your honour, is your life insurance!
TOM
the instruments of question
What I do isn’t exact who I am. Who, goes around will a calling card saying Where from the Grand Jury we’re here to help. Further I’m what you would call a Juror Wrangler. Get alone little inquisitors. You, can not image how easy it is to get into major trouble indecorously opening your frilling mouth. As much as I try, someone, at some time, will say the worst thing possible. Then I find myself in the Judge’s chambers firing off a string of: Yes your honor, Yes your honor, never again your honor. I real should get a taser.
NORVAL JOE
Sabrina pushed her half eaten bowl of ice cream away, held up her spoon, and sat up straight. “On my honor as a junior member of the weather witch’s guild, I’m telling you that the clouds have revealed it to me that you are to be my lifelong companion.”
“Your honor?” Billbert asked. “You may be a junior member of the whatsit guild, but that doesn’t mean the clouds can tell you anything.”
She put down her spoon. “Don’t you see? When we touch, you make my powers so much stronger, I don’t even need the clouds to confirm it.”