Author: R.

Weekly Challenge #1026 – Candle

The next topic is PICK TWO
Siren
Locked
Vending Machine
Journey’s end
Bullet train

NORVAL JOE

Mandy looked from the magnifying glass at the table. The figurine was gone. Everyone else was concentrating on the jewelry box and hadn’t noticed. Looking back in the glass, the figurine was still there. Looking back at the table. It had returned.

She next looked at a candle stick which also disappeared from the table until she looked again through the magnifying glass and it returned.

Mandy put it down.

Billbert looked at his hand. “You never told me what this ring does.”

Sabrina swallowed. “It binds two magic users together.”

Billbert tried to remove the ring. It wouldn’t move.

SERENDIPIDY

I’m told that the Roman Candle firework gets its name from the ancient Roman practice of dousing Christians in tar and setting them alight. As for Catherine wheels, they’re a reminder of the martyrdom of Saint Catherine, who was tied to a spiked cart wheel – it failed to kill her, but it was a pretty gory affair.
So, it seems that fireworks and Christianity really don’t mix.
That’s a shame, and it’s about time things were put right.
Which is why I’m happy to torture people and set fire to them, regardless of religious persuasion.
And that includes atheists, too!

RICHARD

Romantic?
I write by candlelight.
No particular reason, I just like the romanticised image of the struggling writer, ensconced in their garret attic room, scribing away by the light of a single, sputtering candle.
That’s also the reason I write with a quill, on vellum.
Sending my stories to recipients can be tricky though: Delivery on horseback is surprisingly expensive, and old-fashioned mail coaches are hard to find.
You know I’m joking, right?
It might sound romantic, but that would be a stupid way to write.
I do it on a computer, and send it by email.
Just like you.

TOM

Job from Hell #47

When I and my oldest friends get together at some point in regaling the past, we share the litany of worst jobs in our sorted youths. Jim told of the joys of loading live chickens into a boxcar. Mary shared the fun times cleaning crystalline beer vats with a chisel. Gail quietly noted the number of times she sat with a dyeing patient. Tim said the hardest work he ever did was stacking cases of antifreeze eight high. But hands down Wayne true had the ninth ring of hell job. He spent a summer in a candle factory. Wayne won.

LIZZIE

It’s Christmas and all that. Jolly, polly, holly, folly and anything rhyming in ‘olly. Also Molly and trolley. Who, you may ask? Nevermind. Look at the candle. It’s Christmas. Festive little Christmas time, where a generous portion of smiles is added to a generous portion of mockery. The fake phone calls with promises of meetings in the new year “oh, we must!”, the fake pledges of friendship for all eternity “best buddies, right!”. Look at the candle. It’s simple. It burns. No promises. No lies. It just is. A candle. Simple. Why can’t people be as simple as a candle?

LISA

What could possibly go wrong?
Celia’s anxiety was through the roof – she was helping out at the church’s carols by candlelight service.
After ‘Carol of the Bells’ she was to help plunge the chapel into atmospheric darkness. Unusually accident prone she’d imagined at the very least somehow burning the place down.
Celia got more and more nervous so stood right at the back; she was shaking too much to use a snuffer. In one breath she blew all her candles out. And moved all the melted wax from the top of them to the back of a gentleman’s jacket.
Celia left and never went back.

PLANET Z

Everybody’s got their lights up, their inflatable Santas and Mickeys.
At night, I walk the street slowly, savoring each display.
Some houses are dark, kinda like the pickled ginger between sushi.
Cleanse the palate, on to the next house.
I’ve been here for three holiday seasons.
I’ve got lights up. Red and white.
I haven’t set up candles for Hanukkah yet.
This place is a bit more evangelical than most.
“What church do you go to?” is a thing people ask.
I did put a mezuzzah up.
On the side door that I use when I go for a walk.

Survived by

i used to wonder about obituaries that appear days or months after the person had died.
When my sick evil father died, I wondered what pack of lies and bullshit would appear in his obituary.
So, after a few weeks, I searched for it.
And didn’t find anything.
Well, I wasn’t about to write one.
And my brother wasn’t either.
His widow? A dementia-ridden crone only capable of digesting expensive food and shitting everywhere.
Whether prompt or delayed, they all still say “survived by” in them.
When the actual survivors of evil scumbags like him never write them at all.

Loving family

Word got out that Cindy died.
The notice said that she was surrounded by family.
Some people envision a hospital bed, where everyone’s standing around and telling her that they love her.
A beautiful scene, no.
While I envision a cage in the basement, where all her family members have spears to poke through the bars.
“OUT, DEMON!” they all shout. “Let our Cindy go!”
And stab Cindy repeatedly until she succumbs to her wounds.
Anastasia, the Russian Princess, she died surrounded by her loving family, too.
As they were all poisoned and shot to death in the palace basement.

Verlander the slut

Morganna Roberts was known as The Kissing Bandit.
The huge-breasted ex-stripper would run on to the field to kiss the players.
Or coaches. Or mascots, like the San Diego Chicken.
She’d sometimes get injured. Or the security guards took her away.
And she was charged with trespassing or some other charge that would eventually get dropped.
Or she’d pay the fine out the money she made from public appearances and her line of cosmetics and souvenirs.
She made millions.
And then, there’s Justin Verlander.
One game in two years, then injured. Sixty-five million dollars.
Tell me, who’s the bigger slut?

Prescriptions

I recently quit my job.
But I quit my job on the first of the month, so I’ve got insurance until month’s end.
My prescriptions are running out, so I ordered refills last night, and this morning, the drugstore said they were ready.
And they were ready.
No insurance issues.
No doctor’s authorization issues.
No problems with supply at the drugstore.
No line full of people yelling about insurance, doctors, and supply.
I walked in, I said my name, and paid with my Apple Watch.
It’s the first time that everything went right.
I should quit my job more often.

Support role

When I was an IT Manager, I didn’t do much managing.
I was the only IT person for most of that job, and had half a headcount to cover for me when I was out sick or on vacation.
I wrote up documentation that nobody read, offered training that they never learned from.
And every call was an emergency when it wasn’t.
When I’d help the person, I’d make sure they used the keyboard and mouse because they needed to do the thing.
Plus, if you stand behind someone and point at the screen, you can look down their blouse.

Not a miracle

It was the first night of Hanukkah, and Ted only had a few candles.
He cut them into smaller pieces, and he did his best to make them last all 8 nights.
“God made the oil last for 8 days,” said Ted. “So I figure he’ll make these candles last, too.”
But God didn’t. The candles were all used up after 3 days.
Ted went outside and wondered why God didn’t make them last.
A bush in the front yard caught fire.
“Because you used candles instead of oil, dummy,” said God.
Ted used snow to put out the fire.

Weekly Challenge #1025 – Correlation

The next topic is Candle

LISA

Homework
Mum and Dad were arguing so Michael went upstairs to learn this week’s spellings. He hated English with its pointless silent letters: it was altogether too tricky.
He googles word after word but gets stuck on ‘Correlation’. He sounds it out slowly before spelling it aloud. He’s struggling to get the meaning so can’t put it in a sentence.
When it gets quieter in the house he goes downstairs only to find his Mum missing and Dad in a pile of blood. Realisation dawns and a sentence comes to him but Dad says to run to the neighbours for help.

LIZZIE

The correlation between death and peace is a difficult one. People say, rest in peace. Peace is a given for the departed. But what about those who stay behind. Ah, they have it easy, they are not dead.
The correlation between friendship and stupidity is a difficult one. How are you doing, they ask, a serious look on their faces. What does one reply? Fine, now that I have peace of mind? Or… oh, terrible, I miss them so much?
The correlation between the truth and a lie is not a difficult one. One small step, a word, and voilá.

RICHARD

Sing Sing
The committee was adamant. The makeup of the choir had to be more inclusive, with a more ethnically representative selection of members.
Of course, as membership secretary, the task of recruiting more diverse choristers fell to me.
I thought I was doing a pretty good job, but I was taken to task again at the next committee meeting for not being inclusive enough.
There was, apparently, a gap in our ranks that I was obliged to find someone to fill; and that someone needed to be from South East Asia.
Which is why I’m now advertising for a choral Asian!

SERENDIPIDY

Is there really a correlation between playing violent video games and kids re-enacting what they see on the screen, in real life?
Depends who you ask, I suppose. Some experts are adamant there’s a tangible connection between thuggery and shoot ’em ups, whilst others will tell you it’s nonsense.
I imagine you’re now thinking this is the point where I tell you that I was a gentle, caring soul before I discovered video nasties; after which I became a serial killer.
Wrong!
I’ve always been a serial killer. That’s where I get my inspiration for creating violent video games.

TOM

How can you be in two places at once when you’re not anywhere at all.
Ok, so we have a prompt of: causation. My long-standing rule for
proceeding is going with the first thing that spills out of head.
Breaking that this week, not doing: causation vs correlation. Way too
easy and I bet a bunch of us will bit at that Newton’s apple. So, I’m
doing quantum mechanics, the penultimate example of correlation.
Correlation shows two variables move together associated. But causation
means one variable directly makes the other change. Wait a second that’s
quantum mechanics whole thing. It’s correlcausa

NORVAL JOE

With the jewelry box on the table Sabrina took the locket from Billbert. She opened it and removed the heart-shaped ruby from the side opposite the picture.

The correlation was obvious. She placed the stone in the jewelry box lid. The box clicked and the lid popped up a fraction. In it, they found several ornate rings. Billbert recognized them from the ceremony months before. He wore one that matched a ring on Sabrina’s hand.

Among the other items was a golden magnifying glass. Mandy picked it up, looked through it at a dancing girl figurine, and the figurine disappeared.

PLANET Z

To you, he was a beloved figure. To me, he was a fucking asshole. Yelling at fawning college kids and recent graduates writing pointless news stories because of shitty mistakes. But the more they paid him the cheaper they went with the kids feeding the prompter. He played freecell instead of checking their work. He wouldn’t go to any speech or community gathering without them handing him a check first or an envelope with cash. in every promo that pretended he or his cohorts gave a shit about the community or actually worked, I would laugh and grit my teeth.

Auction block

The Pirates of the Caribbean ride has been updated and upgraded over the years.
The figures and songs adjusted to modern sensibilities.
Instead of a pirate chasing a woman around, it’s an angry woman with a broom chasing a pirate.
Women robots harassed throughout the town, replaced with animals or other nasty pirates.
And instead of women being auctioned, it’s now a lady pirate auctioning off chickens.
What happened to the old robots?
Too old for reuse, some were thrown out.
Then recovered from dumpsters, and auctioned off on eBay.
Just things for sale on the auction block, once again.

Shoot to kill

Agencies want to know three things:
Are you willing to kill?
Are you able to kill?
And can you do it without leaving a trace back to you or them?
Marco’s Imports likes to test new talent by assigning someone they’d personally want dead.
An uncle who’d molested them as a child. A detested cousin.
To them, it’s all about family.
The Diamond Exchange sends their candidates after the homeless, the drug addicts.
People nobody would miss.
My outfit, Consulting Limited, prefers the last man standing method.
The real talent shines through, and no awkward rejection notices necessary.
Sign here.