Death sits on my nose, the old farmer says. Why ask me about the past? Why ask me about the war?
He was a soldier in the war.
And he killed so many.
Some in battle.
Some after, as they rounded up the surrendered.
Shot them and dropped their bodies in the pit.
Some in their houses. Or their churches.
Taking gold from their pockets.
Selling candlesticks and fabric and books.
And now, he is a farmer.
So many farmers, death sits on their nose.
I board the train, and leave them all to death to take as it will.
Author: R.
Tom Petty
Tom Petty died of a drug overdose.
He took a lot of drugs.
Some of them were for depression.
Some were from anxiety.
Some more were for insomnia.
And some more were for pain.
His hip was a mess, and he eventually fractured it.
But instead of getting a hip replacement, he took more drugs.
And he died of an overdose.
His excuse for not getting the hip replacement was because so many people were depending on him for a tour to go on.
But because he died from a drug overdose, no tour happened.
And they felt the pain.
Weekly Challenge #850: PICK TWO Where’s Ethel?, Toothpaste, Concertina, Pacing, Screaming Kids, Tie
NORVAL JOE
Pacing along with the other students in the hallway Billbert raised his voice to be heard over the laughing and screaming kids. “This is kind of a pickle. You’re saying I can’t tell these Dark Knights from regular kids and they’ll take over my brain without me knowing. What am I supposed to do?”
She grabbed his hand in both of hers and shook it. “This is why we make contact every day. It restores our magical protection.”
“Sounds like superstition to me,” Billbert said. “Do you avoid black cats?”
“No,” Sabrina said, sounding annoyed. “I have a black cat.”
SERENDIPIDY
Where’s Ethel?
Where do you think? You know the expression, ‘out of sight, out of mind’? Well, with Ethel, it’s more a case of ‘out of earshot, out of mind’.
Trust me, if you had to put up with her racket, you’d lock her in the cellar too, and if there’s one thing you can grow tired of really quickly, it’s screaming kids.
And, when it comes to screaming, nobody can do it longer, louder or more constantly than Ethel.
Although, the thought did occur to me, the screaming might have something to do with being locked in the cellar!
RICHARD
Pack it in
Tie and toothpaste: Two items I always forget to pack when I’m away on business trips.
You may not think that’s a big deal, but in my line of work, it’s all about that vital first impression, and turning up to a client with fuzzy teeth, bad breath, and tie-less, is just not going to cut it.
This time, I’m not taking chances.
There’s a note on the bathroom mirror, another on the wardrobe, and a reminder on my phone.
Success, at last: I remembered to pack both my tie and the toothpaste.
In the suitcase, I left at home!
TURA
A story of those long-ago days before the phonograph, when we made our own entertainment.
———
When I was a boy, concertinas were regular events in provincial drawing rooms: “little concerts” of orchestral works arranged for a small ensemble.
Like everyone, our household had a piano, and our guests brought violins, cellos, and perhaps a flute or oboe. The high point for me was Aunt Ethel singing “Come into the garden, Maud”, accompanying herself on the harp. She was rather younger than her sister, my mother, and as I grew older I adored her, perhaps a little too much, for at some point she stopped coming. “Where’s Auntie Ethel?” I asked, but no-one would tell me.
LIZZIE
Screaming kids running throughout the house, trying to escape the evil toothbrush with that medicinal toothpaste from hell that tasted horribly. This is how I remember Aunt Ethel. She was relentless, always trying to brush everyone’s teeth.
One day, she couldn’t find any of us (we were hiding) and she walked outside, toothbrush in one hand and the damned toothpaste in the other, armed for a battle only she and us kids understood. But she just left, walked away and left.
That’s why we all became dentists. Secretly, we hoped she’d come back to realize she now had an army.
LISA
ping Mum
Monday, we’d overslept and were squeezed into the bathroom, all trying to get to the toothpaste at the same time. I’m not sure how I heard my phone over the screaming kids.
“Ethel’s gone AWOL again”
It was Dad with his usual to the point telephone manner. I said not to worry and that I’d try and nip over after the school run. Ethel was there though, pacing at the school gates, she’d wet herself.
“I’m waiting for me Mam” She told us and I ushered the kids into school not wanting to explain about Grandma to them just yet.
PLANET Z
Laurence Simon
Sun, Jul 31, 9:02 PM (7 days ago)
to me
My roommate and I like to play Where’s Ethel?
Ethel is my pet ferret, and she likes to hide in strange places.
Laundry baskets, pots and pans.
The coffee pot.
And the microwave.
We run around the house, looking for Ethel.
Sometimes, I find her.
Other times, my roommate finds her.
Then, there was the time when we smelled burned fur coming from the ventilation.
Ethel had crawled into a duct and ended up in the furnace.
We call that round a tie and went to the pet store for another ferret.
And tightened down the vent covers more securely.
Twenty seconds of futility
When the pandemic began, the CDC recommended that people wash their hands a lot.
20 seconds of scrubbing with soap and warm water to dislodge and kill the virus.
To get people to wash their hands for the full 20 seconds, some people sang handwashing songs.
Or recited poems that they liked.
Eventually, smartwatches detected the motion of handwashing and displayed encouraging messages or play handwashing music to keep them going for the full 20 seconds.
Then, when they were done, they’d grab a paper towel, dry their hands, and use the same bathroom doorknob all their infected coworkers used.
The end of the day
It’s the end of the day, and we’ve ridden all the rides we’ll ride, eaten all the food we’ll eat, and hugged all the walking characters we’ll hug.
The streetlights go dark, we take spots along the main street.
And then… fireworks fill the sky, and music fills our ears.
The streetlights come up, and the loudspeakers thank us for coming.
And hope we’ve had a magical time.
Please proceed to the exits.
Back to the car.
Back to the hotel.
Back to the airport.
Back home.
But when we sleep, we dream of the fireworks.
And the magic returns.
Scantron
Back in middle school, we used Scantron cards for taking multiple choice tests.
You had to use a number two pencil to mark the boxes.
The teacher would collect up the cards, run the answer key through the machine, and then run each card.
The more answers the student got wrong, the louder the machine got, stamping the errors.
Being a smart kid, my card went through quietly.
But the dumb kids’ cards provoked angry rattles from the machine.
One kid was so dumb, the machine started to smoke, and it shook itself off of the table.
And caught fire.
Television Man
Long ago, I worked at a tv station that required every office to have a television and have it tuned to the station.
So, I had a TV put in my office, tuned it to the station, and took it apart.
The pieces were all tossed into a corner.
When the general manager came by, he said that wasn’t what he meant.
Another TV was brought in, plugged in, and turned on.
So, I turned it to face the wall, opened the case, and cut the speaker wires.
The general manager saw that, too, but gave up on the bullshit.
Beethoven’s limit
They say that Beethoven’s father would drag him to the piano to play.
And he forced the boy to play the violin for his drunken friends.
As Beethoven grew, he learned more instruments.
Until there were no more to play.
He’d get out his tools and build bizarre contraptions and hand them to his son and yell PLAY THIS!
Or while walking down the street, he would grab random things… squirrels, apples, glass pitchers, and clumps of dirt.
PLAY THIS! PLAY THIS! PLAY THIS!
Until, one day, he dropped dead.
Beethoven beat his father’s corpse like a drum and laughed.
Running towards us
They say that one day, all the dogs who have ever loved us will come running towards us in Heaven.
I loved Sparky. Such a good dog.
But after he got bit by that raccoon, he turned bad with rabies.
I saw him there in the street, foaming at the mouth.
And I knew I had to put him down.
I got my shotgun down from the rack, called to Sparky, and he came running towards me.
I never cried so much.
Maybe I’ll see Sparky in Heaven.
I hope they cure the rabies.
Or I’ll put him down again.
Weekly Challenge #849: Pops
I have noticed a lot of visitors from India. Welcome to the podcast. I hope you’re enjoying the stories. Please say hello in the comments.
LISA
A Cuppa with Nanna
Nanna had said the teapot was haunted. We didn’t listen which is awful but she’d said a lot of weird stuff since pop had died.
“I won’t drink from it. He’s in there!”
“OK Nanna” I poured into a floral cup “You can read the leaves after.” I gulped the weak brew wanting it over as soon as possible. Nanna looked at the tea dregs through freshly polished glasses and dropped the cup.
“He’s left the pot.” I knew there was more to come so felt no relief. “He’s…”She faltered, raised a finger to point directly at me. “He’s in…”
RICHARD
Pop
I’ve always found it surprising that when they interview people in the vicinity, they always say ‘I heard a pop, and then people started running in panic’, or something along those lines.
It’s always a pop though. Never a bang, an explosion, or even a rat-a-tat-tat! Always, a pop.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve heard shots fired, of every sort, and if there’s one word that I’d never use to describe a gunshot, it’s ‘pop’.
Somehow it just sanitises the whole thing: Makes it family-friendly, almost attractive.
And just maybe, that’s precisely where we’re going wrong?
LIZZIE
The cork popped.
“It’s worth the wait,” he said.
She smiled. Yes, two centuries.
“It’ll taste sour at first.”
She smiled. She didn’t like sour.
“But the aftertaste will be sweet.”
She nodded. She didn’t like sweet either.
In fact, she didn’t like anything except the taste of hatred.
Two centuries. And here he was, oblivious that he had betrayed her many moons ago.
She had used her powers to look different, more seductive.
That green bottle was somewhat beneath her, but it would have to do.
Perhaps then she would be able to taste something again. “Pop! And cheers!”
ED
LUNCH WITH POP
“Hiya, Pop.”
“Hiya, yourself. What’re you doing here?”
“Good to see you, too, Pop. We’re going to lunch today.”
“Brunch? Little late for that.”
“That’s why we’re having lunch, Pop, a late lunch.”
“You ate lunch? Then I ask again, what’re you doing here?
“Oh, Pop, come on. Stop playing games. I know you can hear exactly what I’m saying.”
“What’s that?”
“Alright, Pop, that’s enough. Get your coat and your phone and let’s get going.”
“Where are we going?”
“Tuesdays, Pop. We’re going to Tuesdays.”
“Thought we were going today?”
“Pop!?”
“I’ll shut up and get in the car.”
SERENDIPIDY
Who doesn’t like bubble wrap?
That enormously satisfying pop as you squeeze, twist and scrunch those lovely polythene bubbles: The perfect, therapeutic, stress relief; guaranteed to ease the troubles of modern living.
Who would have thought a simple packaging product could be so beneficial to mental health?
Who doesn’t like bubble wrap?
Me, for a start!
Listening to your incessant popping, for hours on end is one of the most annoying, irritating, stress-inducing sounds that could possibly be imagined!
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Just one more, that’s all it’s going to take.
And the next pop, will be your head!
NORVAL JOE
Billbert shook his head. “I’m not sure I believe you about these Dark Knights. I mean. You said there were some in our homeroom class. They all looked like normal kids to me. How am I supposed to know who’s good and who’s bad?”
Sabrina huffed. “That’s the thing. You can’t tell good from bad.”
Billbert rolled his eyes. “So, I’m just supposed to wait for one of them to pop out from around a corner and say ‘Boo. I’m a Dark Knight’?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Sabrina said. “They’ll take control of your brain and you won’t even know it.”
PLANET Z
Pop had a way of dealing with strangers.
He’d start off all nice and smiles and welcomes.
Inviting them into the house, asking if they wanted something to drink.
And he’d listen to their sales pitch, whether it was newspapers or vacuums or Jesus they were selling.
Encyclopedias were a favorite of Pop.
We had a whole bookshelf full of them.
Just the A book, mind you. Rows and rows of the A book.
And bibles.
And newspapers and vacuum cleaners, stacked up high in the basement.
Like a maze, to the furnace, where we burned up those strangers’ bodies.