Author: R.

Play the field

In my younger days, I played the field.
Once, I was fought over by identical twins.
It was impossible to tell them apart.
Believe me, I checked everywhere, and in every respect, they looked and sounded and acted the same.
Well, except for one.
One had a knife. One had a gun.
“Come on, Marie!” I said to the girl with the gun pointed at me. “Let’s talk about this!”
“Dammit, I’m Wendy!” she said.
Wendy had taken Marie’s gun, I guess.
Or was it Marie, I thought, as the bullet hit my chest and I fell to the floor.

The cruelty of it all

It was the cruelty of it all.
A robot girl who thought she was real.
She thought. She felt.
And she hurt.
Because all around her, over the years, everything had changed.
Everything she knew was gone.
She’d outlasted all she knew.
She’d outlasted all she loved.
Until nothing was left but her memories.
Those never faded. They were always with her.
At first, they were a comfort.
When everything around her was so strange.
And became stranger.
Then, she felt… haunted.
And then the pain.
Alone in time.
Always alone.
Sitting in the museum, staring at nothing.
And remembering.

Brian’s comic books

Brian got his first comic book when he was five.
He traded it to another kid for two comic books.
Those two became three. Then five.
And he would use his allowance to buy comic books off of his friends.
He’d spend his lunch money on buying more comic books.
He did errands and chores. A paper route. Yard work.
Everything went to comic books.
Thousands and thousands of comic books.
Boxes filled the basement.
He sold them all, and that’s how he paid for college.
He’d never read any of them.
Just collected them up, and then sold them.

Ninja Emoji

I like to use emjois.
They are cute ways to condense a message.
There are times that I would like to use a ninja emoji.
But there is no ninja emoji.
When you think about it, why would there be?
Ninja are sneaky and hide in a crowd easily.
Masters of disguise and subterfuge.
So a ninja emoji would look like any other emoji.
Maybe the smiley.
Maybe a tree.
Maybe a pile of poo.
It could be any of them.
You wouldn’t know it was the ninja emoji until you felt the steel of its blade on your neck.

The Apple life

My Apple Phone’s alarm wakes me up.
It plays a song from Apple’s iTunes.
And it turns on my lamp with Apple Home.
I pull the phone off of my Apple charging stand, and I strap my Apple Watch to my wrist.
I turn on my Apple laptop and check my email while my Apple TV plays the latest news headlines.
I drive to work while Apple CarPlay plays my favorite songs.
Along the way, picking up coffee I buy with my Apple credit card.
Siri watches it all, smiles, and moves on to the next of her little slaves.

Respect the flag

Show respect to the flag when it passes.
Don’t stand there and point and stare at it.
Yes, the flag is floating in the air on its own.
This is not for us to question or wonder why.
It just does this.
It has done this for years.
Long ago, my grandfather told me about how his grandfather told him to show respect to the flag.
Asking how long this has been happening is not respecting the flag.
The flag is here. The flag is now.
The flag always has been, and always will be.
And we must respect it.

Weekly Challenge #777 – Tilting

Basket case cat

LIZZIE

Imagine being in hospital. You can’t move. You can barely breathe.
No one believes you.
Imagine peering through the window and seeing the elegant bridge crossing the river all lit up, beautiful at night.
Imagine the little dots of light coming from the fishing boats, like fireflies.
Yes, imagine smiling and thinking I will die in a few minutes, but I’ll die having the most gorgeous view.
Imagine they still don’t believe you. And you still can’t breathe.
But you’re smiling. You’re smiling because that tilted postcard window is your hope, your only hope, the hope that keeps you breathing.

RICHARD

A Titanic Effort

The tilting had was quite noticeable now, I had to prop my music stand between my knees, and a stray flute had begun a steady roll across the floor.

Our conductor raised his hands, and the sounds of Strauss rang out amidst the shouts and screams around us.

Now fighting to stay upright, we battled on bravely, determined to finish this one, final performance, barely aware of the terror and panic, we played on, until – one by one – the notes were stilled as the icy waters claimed us for their own.

Leaving only the music of waves and tortured metal.

SERENDIPIDY

The sun was a problem.

From the position he’d taken, it was blinding him. He blinked, and coloured blotches filled his vision. This was no good; it wouldn’t do at all.

Thankfully, such things were easily fixed, and he adjusted the angle of his hat, tilting it so that the brim shaded his eyes from the sun’s glare.

Blinking rapidly to adjust; his sight began to clear, and he squinted ahead, watching and waiting for the critical moment.

The sound of motorcycles filled the street; and the motorcade came into view.

From behind the grassy knoll, three shots rang out.

TOM

Tilting for Fun and Profit

In Poker if you’re not intent on winning for a long long time, you can
deal hands that will drive players insane. The goal is to create a titling
so strong the moment you go for the kill, hand may well go for your
throat, best to serious muscle close at hand. I got this deep move with
faro shuffles that servers up pairs and broken straights. Most player
start out with a slight tic, but hand for hand a feral look clouds their
eyes. You know the monkey brain just got its ass kick by the old reptilian
brain.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert’s father looked at his wife with a tilting half smile.”Gee, honey. A name change? I thought you liked the name, Blanketmaker.”
She put her hand on his arm and returned a much more endearing smile. “Of course I do, sweetie. I meant my superhero name. ‘The Secretary’ sounds so, I don’t know, weak? It elicits no fear or respect. Not like Nuclear Fission. I want something strong and commanding.”
Billbert laughed. “How about, Mom.”
She looked at her son. “What about what, Billbert?”
Billbert shook his head. “No, Mom. I think the name Mom is strong and commands respect.”

JARED

Tommy’s Steel Balls

Darkness. A metallic scrape, followed by dulled clinking. Electronics buzzing to life. Light. Then rolling, falling, landing. Shuddering into a socket. A spring whines in a rising pitch of compression. A pause. Then a soft swish, and an incredible punch. Immediate acceleration. Rising, banking, turning, dipping. A cacophony of electro-mechanical music, punctuated by chirps, chimes, zips. Non-stop movement, crashing into every surface, immediately impelled in another direction. A bump from below, the floor shifts unexpectedly. A sharp buzzer screeches. Suddenly, everything goes dead. All is quiet. Pathetic echoing rumble. Over a precipice. Falling. A thud. Darkness.

RICK

Tilting
It’s one thing to be a biker at 6-2 and 240 pounds of solid muscle … Quite another when you’re 5’6 and 150 pounds. Dave was the latter, and Dave wasn’t the type to take shit from anyone.

So many “rights” from so many big men …

Broken jaw, ribs, teeth, and nose … He never really learned when to shut his mouth.

He’s surprised a few of them big boys, but mostly, a whole lot of ass whippings.

His whole body kind of tilts to the right.

Older now Dave still won’t shut that mouth … and he still don’t take no shit!

TURA

Tilting
———
The Tilting Tower of Pisa is more remarkable than its more prosaic cousin, the Leaning Tower, for no matter what angle you look at it from, it always tilts to the left or the right.

If you try going close up, to determine the direction it is really tilting, you only get confused.

People who fly cameras on drones around and above the Tilting Tower obtain footage that they can make no sense of.

Some take the Tilting Tower to be proof that we are living in a simulated world, and the Tilting Tower is a bug in the simulation.

PLANET Z

There’s a stop sign at the corner of Main and Ash.
It’s been there for years.
Bumperstickers for whatever band of cause or phrase of the day slapped across the front and back, scraped off, and replaced again.
The pole’s not quite straight, it leans a bit to the left.
But it’s never been hit or knocked over, like so many signs in the neighborhood.
The Main and Ash sign’s been knocked over so many times.
The Dead End sign, too.
But not the Stop sign.
I guess people respect a stop sign more than others.
So it’s still there.

The artist’s idea

The artist dreamed up an idea.
And he kept it in his head.
His agent sold the idea to a businessman.
“You own the idea,” said the artist to the businessman. “But you will never know it.”
“Brilliant concept!” said the businessman.
The next day, the artist went to the grocery store, where he was told he could pay for food he could never eat.
“Oh, is it for charity?” said the artist. “A food drive?”
“No,” said the grocer. ‘Thank you for shopping with us.”
The artist went home and starved to death.
The businessman sued the artist’s agent.

I am an artist

I am an artist.
I make art.
No, I do not paint. Or sculpt. Or draw.
I write. I write stories.
Nor do I dance or sing, but I do perform.
This is a performance. I perform what I write.
Although it’s more of a reading than a performance.
Maybe when I first read these, it was a performance.
I tried to put spirit and emotion into the words.
Now, I just read them.
Good or bad, get it on the tape.
Just like good or bad, get it on the page.
And I move on to the next story.

Drug trials

Double-blind trials.
Half of the patients get the drug.
Half don’t get the drug. They get a placebo.
That’s something that doesn’t do anything.
The patients don’t know if they’re getting the drug.
The doctors don’t know either.
The pills look the same.
The list of who got the drug and who got the placebo isn’t known until the trial is over.
Well, unless the patient is extremely rich.
Then, they’re taken out of the trial.
And just given the drug.
If it turns out to be horribly toxic, oh well.
Plenty more money to pay for further research, right?