Ah, faith healers. Claiming to do God’s will.
The thing I’ve never understood about faith healers is when they grow old and end up in the hospital with something terminal.
“Can’t you just heal yourself?” I want to ask them.
But I already know their answer.
They all say it… God wants them back.
Then why go into the hospital?
I mean, if it’s God’s will, why resist with doctors and nurses and medicine and surgery?
But I know it’s all a lie… because I was a nurse.
And I gave a faith healer sugar pills.
And the fucker died.
Author: R.
Think about eating
I’m on a diet due to a few health issues.
High blood pressure, high blood sugar.
That kind of thing.
So I need to be careful about what I eat.
I need to think about the things I eat and look up their calories and protein and other nutrients.
Of course, thinking about eating things is a lot less calories than actually eating them.
So I do a lot of thinking about eating and very little eating.
When I think about things to eat, okay, so I let myself go a bit.
Steaks and ice cream sundaes and fudge brownies.
A poet
I know a poet.
She’s been writing poetry for years.
In her personal notebooks and diaries.
Reading them at a coffeeshop.
Handing out leaflets and pamphlets.
Submitting them to magazines, receiving rejection letter after rejection letter.
And then, she gets published.
A magazine here, a university collection there.
Submitted for a few prizes, until she wins a few.
Then the commissions roll in.
Write a thousand words on this, two thousand on that.
From self-published books to a publishing deal.
All the while, she’s been sharing them with me.
And I’ve been deleting them.
I’m not all that into poetry.
Covid alphabet
I know when the COVID-19 pandemic will be over.
It’s when they run out of Greek letters.
So many damn letters!
“I have Omicron.”
“I have Delta.”
“I have Omega.”
“Oh, you have Omega? You’re done.”
Then they give you three more boosters.
And ice cream.
This, of course, is a brilliant strategy because the WHO already skipped Xi so as not to insult the Chinese, who made COVID-19 in a lab.
Of course, the Chinese have thousands of letters in their alphabet.
Thank God they had the sense to use the Greek alphabet or this shit would never end.
Uvalde
The Uvalde shooter was a monster.
He killed cats and threatened women, and all sorts of other sick things.
His mother didn’t report him, and didn’t believe him when he was abused by her boyfriends.
She is just as responsible for the massacre as he is.
I remember back in school, a kid dying.
Turned out, he was a sick son of a bitch. Abusing his sister and her friends. Tormenting their dog.
The coroner ruled it a suicide.
But we were all told it was a mercy-killing.
“Be good,” our parents and teachers said. “Or it’ll happen to you.”
Weekly Challenge #1014 – PICK TWO Street life, Pox, Behind, That old classic…, Standard lamp
- Richard
- Lisa
- Lizzie
- Tom
- Serendipidy
- Norval Joe
- Planet Z
RICHARD
— Non-Standard —
Why do they call it a standard lamp? It’s anything but.
There’s a bewildering variety of the damm things… Edwardian, art deco, modern, minimalist, futuristic, or that old classic timeless design.
Do you want softwood, hardwood, metal or something more exotic? A contemporary stylish glass shade, or a big, old fashioned flowery one? Tungsten, LED, halogen…
Frankly, I can’t cope with the choice, I’m more than happy to simply grab the first one I see and get the hell outta here.
But, it’s the usual story – shopping with the wife, and she wants to know which one I prefer!
LISA
Being Neighbourly
I’d been waving at him for years – he was always in the same arm chair, with the standard lamp behind it, watching TV when I walked to and from work.
I could see the outline of his head, and I didn’t stare in – I’d never spoken to him so didn’t know if he liked me waving. He’d waved back sometimes though. And once you start something it’s hard to stop.
It was only when the flies had covered his window that I realised there was something wrong and for quite a while now I’d been waving at a dead man.
LIZZIE
Look behind the phone. There was nothing. It’s there, she said. But it wasn’t. And she giggled. That old classic… Made you look! She giggled again. And where is it? When she started giggling, he lost it. He was standing there, holding the damn phone, looking stupid, and she was making fun of him. On top of it all, the phone was yellow, the one color he couldn’t stand. I need that fucking code, right now. She bok-bok’ed and giggled some more. The next day, there was a headless chicken on her doorstep and no one saw her, ever again.
TOM
You need it, I know a Guy.
I love cities. You can feel the pulse of life in the movement of people and cars, an infinite random dance. In a great city on one particular street, the people will lay claim, and a culture of its own will emerge. For generations my family has been part of the Maxwell St. street-life. I have heard stories of my great grandfather sharping knifes for a nickel a blade. Since my people have climbed up the economic ladder there or on longer Kosick’s and Valor’s on Maxwell St. But life on the street goes on. Life always finds a way.
SERENDIPIDY
“Banish her”, they said.
Different village, same old story, that old classic “she’s got the pox”; reason enough to treat me like a pariah.
So much for compassion and the milk of human kindness.
They called a town meeting, just a formality really, the outcome a forgone conclusion: “she has to go”.
And so, like every other occasion, every other village, I find myself cast out, never to set foot within its boundaries again on pain of death.
So I’m going, and you’ll never see me again.
And yes, I have the pox.
But, so do all of you now!
NORVAL JOE
When a sack was pulled from Billbert’s head, a shadow of a person loomed before him, lit from behind by a single standard lamp in the otherwise dark room. He looked around the small room and saw Sabrina beside him, gagged, blindfolded, and headphones covering her ears.
“Sabrina,” Billbert shouted.
“Don’t waste your breath,” a familiar voice said. “She can only hear what I tell her.”
Billbert peered at the shadow form. “I know you. Patrick something, from school. What do you want from Sabrina, and me?”
Patrick laughed. “You two, together, are going to do me a little favor.”
PLANET Z
Victor had been a renowned chemist before the war. Somehow he survived two years in the camps. His wife and daughters didn’t. He went to the states, got married and had a son and never talked about the numbers on his arm. He ran the paint counter at a hardware store. Every now and then a guy would paint a swastika on his door. He knew who he was because he kept track of who was buying paint. He formulated a varnish for the outside of his front door. When mixed they made toxic fumes that blinded the evil painter.
Prisoner exchange
The prisoner exchange took place on the bridge.
Soldiers and snipers and floodlights everywhere.
Two men shook hands in the middle of the bridge and waved to their respective sides.
A line of men in chains with bags over their heads walked South.
One man in a suit and tie walked North.
When the line of men reached their side, the chains were removed, the bags were lifted, and their families saw them and hugged them and thanked God.
“Did you use my latest formula?” the man in the suit said.
“Yes,” said the soldiers.
The virus spread like wildfire.
Book of life
Deep, in the deepest cave, there lies The Book Of Life.
If you are written in The Book Of Life, you will live.
If you are removed from The Book Of Life, you will die.
Twenty monks watch the book constantly.
The same twenty have watched for as long as people have known about The Book.
They wrote their names in The Book, and have never removed them.
Don’t try to go down to the cave, because the monks will remove your name.
We send down food and water, they send their gratitude.
And we all live our lives happily.
Leroy the racist
Leroy Brown called every white person a racist.
When he wasn’t screaming it at white people, he was shouting it at the television.
Neighbors who complained were in cahoots with the racist white folk.
Cops who came to tell him to quiet down were sent by the racist white folk.
But nobody did anything, because they didn’t want to be called a racist.
Leroy called the mailman a racist for walking on his property.
The mailman said the mailbox was by his front door.
So, from then on, he threw the mail on Leroy’s sidewalk.
And ignored the yelling Leroy.
The clone law
The Clone Law states that no clone may be activated as long as the source is alive.
When Roger 7 woke up Roger 8, it meant death to one or the other.
Roger 8 climbed out of the copytank and looked around.
Just a note: “Meet me at the drugstore.”
So, Roger 8 showered, got dressed, and walked to the drugstore.
Where he was met by the police.
“You have the right to remain silent,” they began.
Roger 8 tried to explain he didn’t kill his wife. It was his source.
“Well, then,” said the police. “Then you’ll die anyway.”