Author: R.

The meeting went long, so when the meeting was over, I hopped in my time machine to go back and catch the beginning of the other meeting that had already started.
But I had forgotten to bring my laptop, so I had to stand there and watch the other me at my laptop until he got up and jumped into my time machine.
Then I picked up my laptop and jumped into my time machine and went back.
But the two laptops had an IP address conflict, and we were both disconnected.
Shit.
My other me didn’t go back.
Awkward.

When the smoke cleared, Billy was the last man standing.
Clint was sitting in the middle of the street.
Bart was laying on his back, looking up at the clouds.
Bob was hopping on one foot. He insisted that it didn’t count as standing.
Slim was doing some kind of weird yoga pose, holding himself up with his hands as he stuck out his legs.
“Is that a Dhanurasana?” asked Billy.
“That’s the rocker pose,” said Slim. “Know it’s not an Upavistha Konasana.”
Doc was doing a handstand. He accentuated it with a few breakdance twists.
“Show off,” said Billy.

• Lewie
• Lisa
• Lizzie
• Richard
• Tom
• Serendipidy
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

The next topic is PICK TWO
Hush
Beauty
Chisel
One-eyed owl
Interceptor

LEWIE

Spooker Boy was just like everyone else. But ever since his friends dared him to fetch a ball in old Mrs. Hendersons back yard, he’s had superpowers. The little hairs on the back of his neck would rise up with a sinking feeling of paranoia, signalling that trouble was afoot. Three weeks ago, his friend Billy was walking on thin ice, often getting home late. Spooker boy warned him, claiming he had super powers. They got back just in time to hear his mom start calling out. Billy never doubted Spooker Boy’s powers again. He hadn’t noticed the street lights.

LISA

Going Live for the Last Time
Gabby needs no introduction to those of you on TikTok. She was one of the very first influencers. Today though she feels something’s off; Gabby has a creeping feeling that she’s being watched. An odd thing to say when you live stream most day to day tasks and live in a house that is predominantly windows.
Her partner dismisses the idea and says she’s being paranoid and puts his VR headset straight back on.
But there, tucked behind a perfectly manicured bush, in her vast garden hides her number one fan who notices that she’s left the patio doors unlocked.
Lisa aka noodleBubble

LIZZIE

He looked at the dark building. Why had they called him in? Not a transfer, he hoped. His Sector was busy but he liked it there, especially since Steve, the new mutant, had arrived. Steve always tried to outsmart the local gamblers, but he was hopeless.
“Next,” someone shouted. The implant reader confirmed his ID. “Room 3, Terminations.” Terminations? The door opened and there was Steve.
“OMG, Steve, am I fired?”
“Yes, you are.” Steve smiled.
“But why?”
“I need someone paranoid enough to be my shadow.”
The relief washed away his paranoia.
But he didn’t tell that to Steve.

RICHARD

Paranoid
I kept telling her, it’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
She just laughed at me, “They’re not out to get you, you really are paranoid. When are you going to man up and sort yourself out?”
Well, I tried, but the nagging conviction I was right wouldn’t go away.
I swear that cars would swerve towards me in the street, plant pots would fall from windows as I passed suspiciously frequently, and the razor blades in the mailbox were definitely no mistake.
But, turns out, no-one was out to get me.
Except for my wife.

TOM

Boldly to Go

Stardate: 2719 For the last six torens Lt. Cetak has been studying the inhabitants of planet 612n. They call themselves the Noid. A curious race that places trust as the highest ideal. To maintain this state, pairs of noids will bind with members who holds diametric different truths. Much of the daily activity is spent constructing contingencies over the possible machinations of their partners. This takes up a sizeable amount of time leaving little time to productive endeavors. We judge the threat assessment of this race as low, but the more pair a noids there are the great the danger.

SERENDIPIDY

You’re just being paranoid.
You’ve been here before, countless times; it’s just a crime scene, like so many others you’ve been to.
The blood staining the wall is still fresh enough to be tacky, the familiar smell filling your nostrils, and the taste of iron at the back of your throat.
But now, the silence, cold and dampness are pressing in creating an almost tangible presence. You fight the unnerving feeling that you’re being watched; that someone, something, is lurking in the shadows.
Something inside is telling you to go, to return to daylight, and safety.
But, are you listening?

NORVAL JOE

Mandi lay in the guest bed staring at the ceiling.

She closed her eyes and acted like she was asleep as footsteps approached the door. It didn’t sound like Billbert. It must be his mother. Was she looking for Sabrina? Did she somehow know that Mandi had trapped her in the magnifying glass?

Mandi kept her eyes closed as the footsteps approached the bed and stopped. She cracked an eye open, then sat bolt upright. There was no one beside her bed. Either she had crossed over from paranoia to total mental illness, or there were ghosts in this house.

PLANET Z

Robbie read the order: extra cheese.
He grabbed a handful of cheese and scattered it on the pizza.
Forty minutes later, the angry customer called.
“You call this extra cheese?”
The manager had Robbie make another pizza.
Two handfuls of cheese this time.
“I said extra cheese!” was the response.
Robbie snapped. He grabbed a fifty pound bag of shredded cheese, tossed it into his truck, and drove off.
They found the customer’s body the next day, covered in cheese.
The police still haven’t found Robbie.
I hope they do soon. Because we just got an order for extra pepperoni.

So, I found an accounting error.
Reported it to the CEO.
Who did nothing about it.
Then, I reported it to the SEC.
The company doesn’t just fire whistleblowers, you know.
They’ll lay you off for economic reasons, or they’ll downsize your job out from under you.
Then, after a while, they’ll hire someone else to do that job.
Blackballing you in the industry.
Time for a new career.
I’d saved up enough to put myself through pharmacy school.
And got a job where the CEO picked up his medication.
They called it a prescription error.
I call it justice.

Mom and Dad took me to the cemetery every weekend.
We visited Grandma and Grampa and me there.
Me, Bob Thomas Morton.
Well, not really me.
Mom and Dad had me late in their life, too late to meet Grandma and Grampa alive.
And too late to meet my older brother.
Also named Bob Thomas Morton.
They don’t talk about him ever.
And I’m not allowed to ask about him.
There’s no photos. None of his things. Nothing.
When they die, they want to be buried next to him.
And me?
Maybe I’ll just carve in my dates under Bob’s.

So, a cop took a fentanyl addict with hypertension and a heart condition to the ground and knee-pressed the guy’s neck.
City coroner said heart attack. Family’s hired coroner said asphyxiation.
But, hey, the science is settled, right?
“I CAN’T BREATHE!” were his last words.
Protests. Riots. Burning. Looting.
Peaceful, right?
I watched a fat black elderly protester holding up a sign that says MY LIFE MATTERS.
In a dense crowd. No gloves, no mask. Hugging strangers.
The other side of her sign said I CAN’T BREATHE.
It’ll come in handy when she catches the Coronavirus and ends up intubated.

So, my parents finally sold their house.
But they didn’t sell the wooded empty lot next door.
They had bought that lot to preserve their peace and quiet.
It didn’t sell along with the house, though.
They gave the lot to me.
And I need to sell it.
The golf course it’s near doesn’t want it.
They gave me an insultingly low offer.
So, I told them thank you, but I’m going ahead with my plans to build a shrine to Satan.
And their golfers are welcome to pray there, of course.
I’m sure they’ll rethink their offer pretty soon.

I used to play the violin. But I didn’t play it well.
“Maybe I need a better violin?”
So, I’d buy violin after violin, until I had a Stradivarius.
It didn’t have a name, though. It was a badly-damaged body that was refurbished.
Still, it sounded great.
But I didn’t play it well.
I paid for lessons, practiced a lot, until I finally got good with it.
Then, I broke my elbow and lost a lot of range of motion.
The surgeries and rehab were expensive and I had to sell the Stradivarius.
Now, I play “Violin” playlists on Spotify.

Mickey Mantle jumped the line, got a new liver, but it didn’t do him much good.
He got sicker and sicker, and former teammates came to Dallas to wish him goodbye.
The orderlies moved his body to a gurney and rolled it into an elevator,
Down in the basement, they moved his body to a cabinet in the morgue.
It took a day for his final exam.
They carved him up, pulled out his organs to examine and weigh them, including the liver he’d received, and sewed them all back into him.
And off to the funeral home he went.