Author: R.

• Lizzie
• Richard
• Tom
• Norval Joe
• Serendipidy
• Duane
• Justin
• Tura
• Planet Z

RICHARD

Road trip

It was going to be the road trip to end them all: Terry in the driving seat, me riding shotgun, and the two girls in the back. Open top convertible, open road and open to any opportunities that came our way.

Day two saw us pulled over on the side of the road, smoke pouring from the engine, and the girls at each other’s throats after being forced to sleep in the car overnight.

Another three weeks of this, and I’d go stir crazy.

I grabbed my bag, thumbed a lift from a passing truck, and left them to it.

LIZZIE

Sitting in the back made him feel sick, very sick.
The vehicles were old and made out of scrap, the rusted parts an adventure each time they bumped against a rock on the road. Plus, it didn’t help that all the guys drove like lunatics.
When he was promoted to sitting in the front, he couldn’t be happier. No more snarky remarks about how green he looked. He was free!
When that unidentified piece of metal poked his right eye out, the first thought that crossed his mind was “it doesn’t matter, green no more!”
Priorities, yes, priorities are paramount!

DUANE

“Shotgun!”

“Ned, you’re forgettin’ the first rule of Shotgun,” drawled Pete.

Ned was looking down at his feet. “But I called shotgun.”

“To call shotgun you have to bring a shotgun. That’s why it’s called riding shotgun. Jenny and Earl brought theirs. It wouldn’t be fair to them now would it?”

Ned blushed. “No, I reckon not. I’ll be right back.”

After a few minutes Ned returned with his old double-barreled coach gun.

“Shotgun!,” shouted Ned and Jenny in unison.

“Looks like we have a tie,” said Pete.

“Heads!”

“Ned, you can’t call heads when we don’t have a coin.”

JUSTIN

Stagecoach Interstellar, Starbound Division delivers to everywhere in the system. I’ve got one more mission then I’ll transfer to the Galactic Division, which travels system to system, much safer because they only transfer from depot to depot.

I’m in the defense turret, and for the first time in my career, I’ve got enemy fire coming at me, space package pirates! Watching a real missile blasting towards you isn’t the same as in the simulator.

I activate the Rober-Chaff system, and hope the missile gets deterred. It works! But not against the direct fire.

I hope the puncture auto-seal works too.

SERENDIPIDY

We’re going to play a little game I call ‘riding shotgun’.

You see, I have this shotgun, and…

Well, you can probably guess where this is going, right?

Don’t go whimpering about the inhumanity of my actions.

You should have thought about that, all those years ago, when you imprisoned me in your cellar, tortured me, and raped me at gunpoint.

The press called you a sexual deviant.

As for me…

I’m just a deviant.

Made that way, by you.

So, shut up, drop your trousers, and please take a seat.

It’s going to be one hell of a ride!

TOM

Not Quite Dibs

“I want to ride shotgun,” pleaded Sam. “Nup,” counter Ben. “WWWHHHHY?”
“Well for starter. Your slow, stupid and damn distractive.” “But I’m your
cousin.” “And that would be a fourth. Not going to happen Sam. Let it go,
now. Get inside and let your mom up.” Sam stepped. Her mom stepped up. She
double cocking her Henery’s loading gate and took a seat. “Do too so sad,
love. You can ride up front on the trip back,” said Mary as she pinched
his check. Sam hated that went she did that. “Here,” she said tossing a
Winchester to him, “stay sharp.”

NORVAL JOE

Two weeks later, Billbert and his parents headed for their new home. His mother stretched out in the back seat of the minivan, allowing Billbert to sit in the front passenger seat and watch in the side mirror as his hometown faded from view.
Billbert sighed. “Why do we have to move to Eureka? I mean, besides it being isolated, miles from anything…”
His father kept his eyes on the road. “The agency has an office there, set up in a drug rehab facility. Your mother and I will both have jobs where we can help people improve their lives.”

TURA

Riding shotgun
———
A superintelligent AI would kill us all in the first few minutes. As the saying goes, we are made of atoms that it wants for another purpose. But the economic promise of safe AI drives us to experiment anyway.

Someone chats with the AI in an isolated room, with me riding shotgun. If the AI persuades the tester to let it out, I hit the panic button, the AI stops, and we move the tester to a padded cell for debriefing.

Sometimes, there’s no way to deconvert them. Then we use actual shotguns. It’s the only way to be sure.

PLANET Z

Every time we go to the keg store, Bud calls SHOTGUN and jumps in the front passenger seat.
And when Bobby wrecked the van into a telephone pole, that’s where they pulled Bud’s body from.
We got knocked around a bit in back, the keg breaking Ricky’s arm and me getting a cut on the forehead.
And Bobby took the steering wheel to the chest, even with the air bag going off, but Bud was a goner.
Bobby got a new van, named it Bud.
When we go to the store, we strap down the keg, and nobody calls shotgun.

• Lizzie
• Richard
• Tom
• Norval Joe
• Serendipidy
• Duane
• Justin
• Planet Z

NORVAL JOE

“Oh great!” Billbert grumbled, folding his arms and slouching down on the sofa. “You want to just trade away my happiness for your feeling of safety?”
His mother nodded her head slowly and sighed. “The same could be said for you, Billbert. Do you want to trade our safety, perhaps our lives, for a friendship which will most likely fade away before high school?”
Billbert looked to his father for support, but he only picked at his fingernails. “Will I be able to text Linoliamanda or send her emails?”
His mother began to speak, but then only shook her head.

JUSTIN

I’ve been trading my soul with other’s to endlessly escape and outwit Death.

I’d leave one body when there was a little time left, and that body would die soon after. I leave before they wake. Pretty sure the existing soul went to wherever it would have gone anyways.

Something is wrong with this body. It should have had more time, but now I have a bullet hole in my chest.

Who…? You’re a hired a contractor and you followed the trail of confused dead people? You want me to meet someone? Can they fix this wound?

Oh, hello, Reaper.

TOM

Fun While It Lasted

I need a new job. The last four years where way cool. I sent my resume to
a mess of department in the gov. I thought I’d get a job in Department of
Ed, 25 years in the class. No, they had a quite different plan for me.
Trade Minister to Nigeria. One minute I’m in Oakland, the next Africa.
Very cool. A major part of my mission was to administer the email of the
Prince of Nigeria. Not only did I get a hefty pay check from the gov, I
got a percent of what the Prince racked in.

SERENDIPIDY

Contract killing is a trade like any other: You put in the hours, you get paid at the end of the day, and you take a pride in your job.

Just like any other profession, things don’t always run smoothly. There’s disputes over payments, unfair clauses in contracts and you never know when you might need legal assistance.

Which is why we formed a trade union.

We have our members’ interests at heart and will ensure your rights are protected, for a small monthly fee.

So why not join us?

Alternatively, you can suffer the consequences.

Know what I mean?

DUANE

“College is bullshit! What you need to do is find a good trade school. Learn something useful.”

That’s the wisdom my father tried to impart on me. I never took his advice. Now I need help with everything. I take my car in for simple repairs. I call a plumber for clogged toilets. I even had to hire a gardener to cut the grass. A driver takes me to work, a team of writers provide me with words to say, and a director shows me which camera to look at. My father says I need to get a real job.

LIZZIE

Trading vintage posters had become quite the busy activity.
John had a bunch of them hanging on the walls of his study.
He dusted them and created a website to sell them. Trading was for retards.
The phone rang a few days later.
A man was interested. And John was happy.
They met and John opened the trunk of his car.
“No trading.”
The man sneered and walked away.
“Hey!”
The man waved dismissively.
John went back home, updated the website, traded a bunch of posters for different ones.
Yup, John, just go with the flow. It’ll be less painful.

RICHARD

A great deal

“It’s a fair trade”

The Bedouin grunted a smile and shook my hand.

I was now the proud owner of three camels and a goat, whilst he in return, got custody of my wife.

I’d been trying to offload the old bat for years, and I thought the deal I’d managed to strike over several glasses of mint tea and a leisurely puff of fragrant apple tobacco, was definitely the best I’d ever made.

Getting them onto the flight through customs was surprisingly easy.

I just dressed them up in the wife’s clothes.

They were still more attractive than her!

PLANET Z

After the war ended between Bondag and Griv, trade between the two kingdoms resumed.
Textiles and food from Griv, ores and machinery from Bondag.
Along with countless other resources and materials.
Oh, and elvish slaves.
I mean, those ores didn’t mine themselves, you know.
The Forest of Ool had plenty of elves for Griv to capture and send to Bondag to mine the ore.
To turn into the machinery to send to Griv.
Every now and then, the slaves would revolt.
Bondag soldiers putting down the rebellion.
Accusing Griv of starting it. War breaks out.
And the cycle begins anew.