It is tradition to carve magic spells into the walls of a king’s tomb.
When King Foldo died, we did no different to his tomb.
So many spells we carved, so many wishes:
Thank you, O king, for your benevolent rule.
Protect the soul of our king.
Bring our king back to us.
May our king watch over us for eternity.
Allow the king to guide his descendants as they rule us.
Too many spells, it turned out.
Foldo’s mummy, compelled by all these powerful spells, roams the land.
He hunts us down, hoping to earn his release and rest.
Author: R.
Give me death
The great orator, Patrick Henry, stood before the Virginia Convention, exhausted from his speech calling for sending troops to fight the Revolutionary War.
But he was not finished.
“Give me liberty, or give me death!” he exclaimed.
A bony finger tapped his shoulder.
It was The Angel of Death.
The Convention fell to a hush. Henry pissed himself.
“How about both,” said The Grim Reaper, brandishing his scythe. “Where do I sign up?”
Death fought valiantly in the war, but was rather reckless, felling men on all sides.
Civilians and livestock, too.
As he did in all wars, I suppose.
The value of Freddy
Freddy was rich, but he wanted to get richer.
His business partners got in the way, so he got them out of the way.
Freddy’s lawyer got the sentence knocked down from twenty years to five.
But it didn’t matter. A guard beat Freddy to death in the first week.
The insurance company refused to pay out Freddy’s life insurance.
Freddy’s wife used Freddy’s lawyer to sue to the insurance company. And the government.
She’d already been talking to him about divorcing Freddy, but now, she got the best of both worlds:
Freddy gone, and a whole lot of money.
The cure to all ills
As the pandemic swept across the world, the race for a vaccine began.
Production lines came to life, gambling on various candidates so they’d be ready with supply.
Company after company released their testing results.
Many successes, with few or no side effects.
The government bought up the doses, and sent them out for distribution.
Hidden in the herd, a secret contractor’s product, which they allocated to prisons, soup kitchens, and welfare institutions.
While agents shredded records and smashed hard drives, the slow-acting toxin annihilated the so-called “undesirables.”
And the unsuspecting agents, too, for the truth had also become undesirable.
The Wily Writer
The Writer had a reputation for crafting tales of madness.
He’d submit them to magazines, receiving rejection letter after rejection letter.
Then, he’d wait a few months before resubmitting the work, with a note attached:
“I have made the edits that you requested.”
Not that he’d made any changes.
It was just a bluff to see if the publisher would assume they’d asked for edits before making an offer.
Which more often than not would work.
The Writer chose the best of the offers, and knew to focus his efforts on that publication.
Careless, gullible, and generous with the pay.
Weekly Challenge #946 – Shark
RICHARD
Role Models
The school called my parents. They wanted to speak to them with concerns they had about my home environment.
All because of a stupid writing assignment: ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’
I’d written I wanted to become a loan shark, just like my dad.
And why not?
People treated him with a great deal of respect, he brought home a good wage and it was a steady income.
I’m not too worried about it though.
He’s taking my mum with him.
She has a good job too.
She’s the one who makes people pay up!
LISA
He thought he was the big shark in the business, but his tobacco brand was not selling. We kept playing the part. We kept nodding like nodding dogs at the mercy of a car’s twists and turns. It made him happy and we wanted him happy. Or did we? When he died, the company was dismantled. Finally, no more debt. What we didn’t know was that he had a stash of millions hidden in a vault at home. The will kept us all from getting those millions. The sneaky bastard… Even after dying, the shark managed to kick our butts.
LISA
The New Normal
After that first secret meeting he took me aside regularly; usually outside. I thought I was special: the chosen one.
No day was the same there but they always started with a gong sounding: some days before the sun rose, others it was midday. I didn’t question. Others did.
“Why’s the gate locked?”
“To keep the sharks out darling!”
Darling, Man, Sweetness… I’m not sure when we lost our names.
We never had the same room twice, there was no rota – it just worked. We shared everything: clothes, the space (it was vast) We weren’t individuals anymore; we were one.
SERENDIPIDY
I always fancied having a shark tank. You know the sort: A big, hidden tank with a trap door over the top, and a big red button for me to push to dispose of minions who displease me.
Trouble is, that sort of thing is costly, and sharks are hard to come by. Not that I have any minions to dispose of anyway.
But, one can dream. It’s something to aspire to.
Until then, I have my tropical fishes.
Would you like to feed them?
Put your hand in the water, and they’ll come to eat.
Piranhas are such fun!
NORVAL JOE
When kindly Nurse Racquet was nowhere in sight as shift change began, the charge nurse entered Sabrina’s room with all the compassion of a great white shark. She attacked Billbert. “What are you doing here? It’s after hours and you’re not family.”
Sabrina clasped both of her hands on Billbert’s. “I needed him to stay. And I need him to come back tomorrow, and everyday I’m here.”
“Nurse Racquet said Sabrina could request me to visit when she woke up. She’s awake now.” Billbert turned to Sabrina. “Is it okay if I bring my mother tomorrow?”
Sabrina nodded and smiled.
TOM
Card Sharks
I met the shark in the dive in the back-end of Las Vegas. The temp hovered between a 108 and 110. Dry air smelled of abandon Chapel of Loves and six-dollar hotels. He sat in a brown vinyl booth running cards to his left hand. A steady soft click 808s keeping time with piped in music. I slid into the both directly across from him. I pulled out a packet of red 808s. I shuffled a neat pair of faro-s. The shark smiled. I dealt out a royal flush in hearts. “ok kid” he said “let do some major damage.”
PLANET Z
Dinger Davis bet on games, and that got him banned for life.
So when Dinger’s experimental plane crashed, he was unbanned and inducted into the Hall of Fame.
And to everyone’s surprise, Dinger showed up at the ceremony.
The commissioner canceled the ceremony and banned Dinger again.
Dinger clutched his chest, muttered “heart attack”, and collapsed on the ground.
“Yeah, right,” said the commissioner, walking away. “Nice try, you bastard.”
Dinger lay there dying for about a minute before anyone thought to come to his aid.
And despite a paramedic declaring Dinger dead, the commissioner refused to change his mind.
CHATGPT
In the depths of the ocean, a lone shark named Blue swam silently, his sleek body cutting through the water with ease. Despite his reputation, Blue wasn’t a fierce predator; he was a curious explorer. One day, while swimming near a coral reef, Blue discovered an injured sea turtle struggling to move. Instead of ignoring it, Blue gently nudged the turtle to a safer spot. Over time, Blue returned with food and protection until the turtle healed. As the turtle swam away, Blue felt a sense of fulfillment, knowing that sometimes the fiercest hearts are the kindest of all.
Signed
Nobody ever asked me to sign their yearbook.
And nobody signed mine.
Because I don’t have any yearbooks.
Either I threw them out or didn’t pick them up in the first place.
I don’t really care about anyone from high school.
It was a horrible place. And I’d rather not remember anything about it.
As for college, it wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t bad at all.
And I had a lot of photos from college saved up.
Which I lost in a fire.
The college yearbooks are all scanned online.
I have them bookmarked.
But none of them are signed.
The real disease
When you were a kid, if other kids were shitty to you, you probably grew up into someone who didn’t want to have kids.
Ned grew up bullied and beaten, and didn’t he have many friends growing up.
He tried dating, but so many women wanted to get married and have kids.
So, sure, he fucked around, but he always wore a condom.
And the women who’d poke holes in it to trap him, well, they still didn’t get pregnant.
You wear a condom to keep from getting an STD, but get a vasectomy to prevent the real disease… kids.
Rent a Rosa
Towards the end of her life, Rosa Parks’ family would wheel her from event to event.
The mayor of the day would declare Rosa Parks Day and hold up a document or a key or something.
People would cheer and they’d get Rosa to smile and wave.
One of the family would speak on Rosa’s behalf, say that the country still had a long way to go, civil rights and slavery and profiting off of black suffering, yadda yadda.
Then they’d collect the check and load Rosa into the back of the bus.
And they’d drive to the next event.
Talent or skill
I know I rarely post photos of Myst.
It’s hard to photograph a black cat with low indoor lighting.
And even with the most advanced phone and camera, well, I’m still a rookie with it.
I adjust the aperture and timing and… still… blotch cat.
Maybe I should use the time off to learn the features and interfaces they show off in the commercials.
Or take one of their classes.
This is the difference between cookbooking and truly mastering a craft or set of tools.
Composition vs. snapshotting.
I guess I’m better at writing about it than actually doing it.