After my dad died, my mother came to live with us.
Under one condition:
The room she was moving into had a plant.
“You can stay as long as that plant’s healthy,” I said.
So, my mother watered that plant every day.
And it stayed green and the flowers were always in bloom.
It was perfectly fine for five years.
My mother was not. The dementia took a hold of her, and she ended up bedridden and confused.
Until she died.
When we were clearing out her things, I picked up the plastic plant.
Maybe we’ll bury her with it.
Author: R.
Little Freddy
Out in the grocery store, I saw a toddler running around in a “Don’t give up on your dreams” t-shirt.
With a picture of Freddy Kruger on it.
He was knocking down everything down the aisle.
No parent in sight.
The shirt, it didn’t bother me.
I mean, the kid can’t see himself in a mirror.
Doesn’t know what Freddy Kruger is… I hope.
And when he’s older, he’ll laugh at the baby photos.
The kid turned the corner and went into produce.
While the manager blamed me for the mess.
“Check the tape,” I said.
And grabbed some mustard.
No such thing as a free lunch
It’s weird that I don’t mind the free lunches for the few employees that actually go into the office.
I’ve never had that benefit from this company, and never expected it from them.
And they’re good about allowing time for lunch and breaks.
As for the old company, they prided themselves on the free lunches and lured people in with that benefit and would say it’s a part of compensation package.
And yet when the pandemic hit, and people worked from home, they’d attack anyone who’d whine about it.
I guess it’s all a matter of perspective.
What’s for lunch?
The old tools
He’s been gone for years, but she still keeps his tools in the basement.
The hammer. The wrenches. The circular saw and its blades.
The baby food jars with screws and nails and nuts and bolts.
She doesn’t use them. One of the neighbors comes by to take care of anything she needs.
And they have their own tools.
The kids come to visit with their kids, but they have their own tools. They don’t need them.
They’re all still in good condition.
They’ll probably end up in the shop class at the junior high school.
Or sold on ebay.
Comparisons
There are people comparing vaccination efforts to the Holocaust.
Other people comparing the 1/6 riots to 9/11 and Pearl Harbor.
And everyone’s calling each other Hitler and Nazis.
If given a pile of apples and oranges, they’ll compare them to Nazis.
This generation is too fucking stupid to make comparisons.
What do you expect from assholes who think a quarter of a pound is bigger than a third of a pound?
I’d compare this generation to previous generations, but they’d just call me Nazi.
Or Hitler.
(Because they’re also too stupid to know that Hitler was a Nazi.)
Grandmothers Headache pills
My grandmother was a ruthless and callous bitch.
She said that headaches were the result of feeling guilty about something, so she refused to give aspirin until I confessed to all the bad things they’ve done.
Oh, and she’d scream this at me to make it worse.
Sure, I’d done something bad. I was a rotten shit.
But this was child abuse.
My other grandmother gave out Life Savers saying they were headache pills.
She had Dementia. Probably thought this was true.
I knew what they were, so the placebo effect didn’t work.
Plus, they were watermelon-flavored, which are disgusting.
Weekly Challenge #970 – PICK TWO Scorpion, Walking on eggshells, Turn, High pitched, News, Craftsmanship
TURA
Walking on eggshells; Scorpion
———
To test an aspiring ninja, the floor of a corridor is covered with eggshell halves glued in place, a live scorpion under each one. The candidate must traverse the corridor naked.
Some really can walk on the eggshells without breaking them. Some leap from wall to wall, never touching the floor. Some cling to the roof beams. And of course, some fail.
I trained for months running on hot gravel to harden my soles, then marched straight down the corridor, trampling eggshells and scorpions alike.
They grudgingly passed me, but next year, they replaced the scorpions by razor-sharp, poisoned caltrops.
LIZZIE
It was on the news. They had finally killed him. A candle was lit in a memorial of sorts by the people, just in case. The Scorpion wasn’t happy. When he blew out the candle, no one reacted. It was the wind, they thought. But when he kicked the memorial setup, everyone scattered. Respect, he thought, respect. He was THE Scorpion after all. The kicking seemed to work. So, he kicked a trashcan nearby but the damn thing hit him on the face. A few kids started laughing. The nerve. Being a ghost is such a difficult thing these days.
RICHARD
– Sting in the tail –
A sudden, high pitched scream came from the kitchen.
‘Oh dear, maybe I should have warned her’, I thought, getting up to investigate.
“Just what is that?” she hissed, pointing at the box on the kitchen table.
“It’s a box”, I responded.
“And, what’s that inside the box?”
I sighed, “It’s a scorpion”.
This was obviously not explanation enough, so I forged ahead…
“I thought I’d have a go at keeping unusual pets, and you have to admit he’s a bit unusual!”
She remained unimpressed. “But, why a scorpion, of all things?”
I smiled wickedly. “It reminded me of you!”
TOM
I’m waking on eggshells, don’t that feel fine.
Welcome to 2345 Walking on Eggshells Championship. The news in this year’s completion is the addition of Microsoft Scorpions. After the commissioner allowed electric alligators, it only seems sporting to include semi-venomous insects. Also of note is the craftsmanship of the eggs themselves have been turned over the Blue People’s Republic of China who breed the last surviving chicken. Despite high pitched warning at the Texas Chicken Ranch their clucker was kill crossing the road. Eyewitness state I appear he was trying to get to the other-side. Let’s turn it over to Durant Durant on the field of broken dreams.
LISA
A Robin’s Egg
The crows circling overhead were so loud she didn’t hear the crunch as she walked but she felt the broken shell underfoot, a different sensation after the soft pad of moss.
A brief glimpse was all it took to recognise a robin’s egg. Its contents had probably been a foxes breakfast. She scooped up the delicate pieces and dropped them onto a horse chestnut leaf in her basket.
Later, after drying them on a windowsill she ground them to a fine powder: the robin brought news from the other side and this shell would be well used in many potions.
SERENDIPIDY
I thought I’d give woodworking a try as a new hobby, so I bought myself a lathe and some tools.
To my surprise, learning how to turn wood wasn’t at all difficult, and I very quickly became something of an expert at the craft.
Take a look at my latest creation: Now, that’s craftsmanship. A beautifully balanced, and absolutely gorgeously proportioned maple baseball bat.
It almost seems a shame to stud it with nails and shroud it in razor wire, although that’s a necessary evil.
Only then will it be fit for purpose.
Can I try it out on you?
NORVAL JOE
For hours, every time a patient was called back, Mrs. Withybottom stood, walked to the admission counter to glare at the nurse, turn and come back to her chair.
Linoliamanda patted her mother’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mother. There has to be some news soon.”
A doctor in green scrubs approached. “Mrs. Withybottom. I’m Dr. Netheregions, the attending physician. Your husband is in an induced coma as we try to reduce the pressure on his brain from bleeding. He has been moved to the ICU. You can see him now, but I’m sorry to say, children under 16 are not allowed.”
ROSE
Jason crawled to the kitchen to keep his back from scraping the ceiling. He knew he was too tall, and that it was unlikely he would find a place comfortable for him – too expensive. He picked up an egg, careful of the way it distorted when rotated as he cracked it over a thin frying pan.
The Y-axis compression reached 300%, but thankfully it stopped there. How and why the error had occurred was lost to time now. Jason only wished the safeguards keeping humans from shrinking applied to the environments. Or maybe that they weren’t there at all.
PLANET Z
Usually I trim my nails down every few days, but now and then I let them grow for a week or two.
Seeing the white ends is strange to me.
How my fingertips feel when I scratch my nose or type on a keyboard.
Scraping a bit of food from a tooth.
I try to be careful when I trim them.
Half my life, I’ve had to bandage a fingertip because of an infection on one side or the other.
Squeezing it out, washing it out, wrapping it up.
And the not-so-gentile reminder every time I type and feel it.
A Jew walks into a bar…
I used to drink at a bar a lot.
But I don’t drink anymore, but I still went to the bar to have a soda now and then.
Until I overheard the bartender telling a joke to a customer that began with Two Jews walk into a bar, and the bartender says I don’t serve Jews.
I left before the punchline, called the owner, and bought the place.
The next day, I went back.
“I’ve got a joke for you,” I said. “One Jew walks into a bar. The one he bought overnight. And fired the bartender.”
That’s a punchline!
Sherman Antitrust Cat
I have one cat.
I tried to get another cat, but my cat didn’t like the other cat and drove it off.
My cat has a monopoly on me.
So, the government sued my cat under the Sherman Antitrust Act.
Coincidentally enough, my cat’s named Sherman.
And he apparently used anti-competitive practices on other cats to have a monopoly on me.
The driving off of other cats.
My cat’s lawyer negotiated a deal.
So, the government is assigning my cat a cat-sitter.
And three more cats are due to arrive within the week.
I hope the lawyer cleans the litterboxes.
Bobbing for turds
Elections are pretty much a game of bobbing for turds now, aren’t they?
The only choice really left to the sane voter is to keep your head under water until the bubbles stop.
We pay for a solid gold tub.
We pay for the finest natural spring water.
We give money for campaigns and voter awareness of the tub and water.
And then they take a dump in it, tie our hands behind our backs, and say “PICK A WINNER!”
Oh, and if you bite down on the wrong turd, you’re a racist, sexist bigot.
With shit in your mouth.