Author: R.

Weekly Challenge #957 – PICK TWO Role model, Beep, Curious, No annual contract, Conference, Ballet

The next topic is Unsafe

TOM

Commissar’s Choice

It was the heady days after the revolution. All traditional preforming arts were deemed counter-revolutionary. No more Swan Lake. No more Nutcracker. Into that vacuum strove Yuri Petrova. His first offering was the blindly a vanguard work Beep Ballet. It opened in Moscow to less then glowing approval from the Commissar of Arts, all the same he deemed it a superior work for the working people of the motherland. The company along with Petrova were sent to Siberia the next week. No account remains of the Ballet. Petrova was rumored to have made his way to Warsaw before the war.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert walked into the bedroom and sat next to Sabrina. “They make fun of you at school?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve never admitted to being a witch. But with Buhmilda being my only real role model, I act as much like a witch as anyonee. They ask me embarassing questions.”
“Maybe they’re just curious,” Billbert suggested.
“Do you do ballet under the full moon, naked?” She said. “That’s not curiousity. That’s degrading.”
“Do you?” Billbert asked, then saw her angry glare. “Sorry, you made me curious.”
Sabrina pushed him off the bed, and lay down. “I’m going to sleep.”

SERENDIPIDY

I first came across him at a motivational conference.
Slick, persuasive, charismatic and a natural people person.
His inspirational message pretty much changed my life, and from that moment I decided he would be my role model.
Some years later, when the news broke about how he scammed his followers, his shady gangland activities, the prostitutes, drugs, violence and rumours of torture and murder, he lost all credibility.
But not for me.
In fact he grew in my estimation, and I saw no reason why he shouldn’t continue to be my role model.
Some might say, that’s a bad thing.

RICHARD

Buy now!
I can tell you’re curious, and believe me this is the deal of a lifetime.
Easy monthly instalments, free maintenance and upgrades, guaranteed performance and, best of all, no annual contract.
If you’re not entirely satisfied after the first twelve months, just give us a call, and return it in the original packaging, and that’s it. No obligation, no questions!
So, what are you waiting for? Just sign on the dotted line, pay a deposit, and we’ll deliver in seven working days.
And, once we have your first payment, we’ll tell you what you’ve actually bought.
Terms and conditions apply.

PLANET Z

Before video conferences, we held phone conferences.
The meeting started with a lot of beeps and people introducing themselves as they joined.
When everyone was on the conference, we’d start the discussion.
At the end of the conference, we’d all hang up, and the director would send out an email with a summary of the discussion and any action items.
Someone had the bright idea to suggest that we not do the conferences and just discuss over email or a private forum thread.
But that’s when video conferences got cheap, and we switched over, all keeping our cameras turned off.

Ghost guns

When Bob saw the gun buyback program, Bob saw an opportunity.
He priced out a room full of cheap used 3D printers and buckets of manufacturing resin.
Then he bought plans for a simple “ghost gun” and set the printers to rendering them around the clock.
On the last day of the buyback program, Bob showed up with a van full of the cheap printed guns.
The chief of police said “No way. Ghost guns don’t count.”
So, Bob pulled out a ghost gun from his pocket and shot the guy.
“Does that feel like it doesn’t count?” said Bob.

Packing the court

After years of contention, Congress passed legislation to expand the size of the Supreme Court and the president signed it.
The Court immediately tried to review the law and declare it unconstitutional.
But the House filled the airwaves with meaningless impeachment hearings, and Senate and President ignored the Supreme Court, nominating Associate Justices and holding confirmation hearings.
The opposition party protested the move, doing all they could to disrupt the meetings and votes.
When the new Associate Justices descended on the Supreme Court, the Chief Justice refused to administer their Constitutional Oaths.
Which party was which?
Does it really matter?

The hangings

We went to the town square for the public hangings.
By the time we got there, the crowd was shouting DEATH DEATH DEATH!
Three hooded and jumpsuited figures were on the platform, ropes around their necks and tied to a bar.
Nobody knew who they were.
Or what they had done.
A solder walked up a set of stairs to the platform, and shoved each figure forward, and they fell, and the ropes went taut.
One of them kicked for a minute, then went still.
Shit ran down from each of their pant cuffs to the ground.
The crowd cheered.

I won’t see you in Hell

Victor St. Vincent, my nemesis.
Before I stomped on his hands and let him fall from the bridge to his death, he said:
“I’ll see you in Hell!”
But now that I’m in Hell, I haven’t seen Victor.
I’ve seen Stalin and Hitler.
I’ve also seen Gandhi.
It’s the shit they don’t tell you in school, the stuff with his nieces, that did him in.
And me, I did worse things. So much worse.
Victor, well, he was a pretty decent guy.
Which is why he kept trying to stop me.
Hey, did he end up in the other place?

Possums

The thing I like most about working from home is being able to look out the window and watch the possums wander around.
Sure, my work office had a nice wide window, but the odds of possums wandering around outside 8 floors up are rather slim.
And any circumstances that would lead to possums outside that work window aren’t good, ranging from hallucinations to some sort of “possum hurling” criminal on the loose.
Or someone dropping possums from the roof.
I think of these things when I’m at home.
But if I were still commuting, I’d think even worse things.

On a schedule

My mom had Alzheimer’s and dementia.
Or maybe only one of them.
But I think both, because the Alzheimer’s made her forget about the dementia and the dementia made her forget about the Alzheimers.
Both made her forget to take pills.
I’m got her one of those newfangled robots to dispense pills on a schedule.
She put a cozy over it like a tea kettle or a toaster.
Plus she would never remember to replenish the pills.
And the nurses were so used to handing out pills, they forgot too.
Now it dispenses M&Ms on a schedule.
She likes those.

Weekly Challenge #956 – Rose

The next topic is AUG 25 PICK TWO Role model, Beep, Curious, No annual contract, Conference, Ballet

Yeah, I screwed up the posting and didn’t notice until Saturday. I’m on fumes at this point.

RICHARD

– ​I love you –

She was found with a single red rose between her fingers.

The latest in a killing spree that had claimed nine victims in just two days, every one of them clutching a perfect, long-stemmed red rose. And we weren’t even close to identifying a suspect.

A mystery that I was desperate to solve, although perhaps not as desperate as some of my colleagues.
You see, I was fervently hoping for another three victims, and – crucially – I wanted them to be found before tomorrow.

In time for my wedding anniversary… so I could present twelve red roses to my wife.

TOM

Aunt Rose
My Great Aunt Rose was the oldest person I’d ever known. She came from that generation where not all women learned to drive. She lived on the Northside of Chicago. You could go your whole life never going farther than five miles from your home. On the occasion of family events, she rode with my Uncle Wilbur in a depression era vehicle. A warm, but guarded women whom had little time for children. I can’t remember a single conversation will her. The best memories I have of her was 20 feet away. I don’t think she approved of my either father.

SERENDIPIDY

I’ve striven for years to grow the perfect black rose.
A bloom to reflect the darkness in my soul.
However, no matter how hard I try, I can never quite get it right.
Perhaps it’s the soil, or it could be the weather, or maybe I’m simply not such a great gardener; but, whatever I try, the flowers never come out totally jet black.
And, I’m afraid, that’s simply not good enough for me.
But now, I’ve finally figured out the secret.
Perfect, black roses, every single time.
It’s amazing what a difference a spray can of paint can make!

NORVAL JOE

Billbert folded his arms. “Yes, it would be different if you were a boy. No one at school would make up stories about what happened while you were here.”
Sabrina stretched her injured leg toward him. The edge of her cutoff sweats rose up, showing the extent of her injuries. “Are you afraid others will make fun of you because you saw my legs?”
Billbert frowned. “They’ll say I saw more than that.”
“Remember. I’ve lived here a long time. They’ve said worse things about me before.” She crossed the bedroom to a rose colored bed and sat. “Let them talk.”

PLANET Z

Jesus woke up in darkness, covered with rocks.
He coughed dirt, clutched his aching side.
The last he remembered was the spear and shouting and…
He was alive. Alive!
He couldn’t move much, but the rocks at his feet felt loose, and he kicked until they rolled free.
Crawling slowly out of the hole… the sun burning his eyes.
He slipped down the rocks a bit, he was on a steep hill.
They’d shoved him in between some rocks and covered him up.
And now… what?
He got to his feet and looked around… he was thirsty and needed water.

The commandment

The Second Commandment says not to make graven images or likenesses of things in heaven above, earth beneath, or in the water.
But what exactly is heaven above? Does that mean Heaven, or does that mean the air?
Scholars and rabbis pondered this for years.
“It probably means the air,” the Head Rabbi concluded. “But, Yahweh’s a smart cookie, and would say air if He meant it.”
The Head Rabbi also happened to like clouds and birds. So, paintings of clouds and birds were fine.
And naked women on trampolines. He liked those a lot, too.
“Bounce higher,” he said.

The dumb dream

The lot across the street used to be a credit union.
After that, they made it an ATM outlet.
And now, it’s an empty lot.
Parking for the truck that hauls in wrecked beemers and benzes.
Or a place for cops to write tickets.
I had a dream of buying it, razing it, and making it a park.
But that’s a dumb dream.
Because people would just bring their dogs to shit in it.
When they’re not letting them shit on the apartment complex sidewalks.
Some carry plastic bags and pick up after.
Some are respectful.
But too damn few.