Today is an important day.
I wrote IMPORTANT on the calendar.
But I don’t remember why it is important.
I looked through my mail and my notes, but there’s nothing telling me what’s so important today.
I haven’t gotten any phone calls or emails or other messages about today.
I’ve asked everybody I know, but they have nothing… they need nothing from me, so it’s not something important I have to do for them.
So, I’ll just stop worrying and go through my day.
And if anything comes up tomorrow, or someone asks, I’ll know what was so damn important.
Author: R.
100 pegs
One hundred pegs along the wall of the cliffside monastery.
A brown robe hanging from each.
The monks had hung their robes on the pegs, filed out of the dormitory, and out the front gate.
Lining up at the edge of the cliff, one by one, the naked men leapt to their deaths.
Later that evening, one hundred naked men arrived at the gate.
They walked into the dormitory, picked out a robe, and put it on.
The new monks of the monastery.
Saying prayers together, praising their creator.
Until it was time for them to leap from the cliff.
Sarah doesn’t have
Sarah doesn’t have nightmares.
She doesn’t need them.
She just remembers everything bad that’s ever happened to her.
And that’s a lot of bad things. Horrible things. Terrifying things.
When she wakes up, she writes down all the memories.
After a cup of coffee and a bowl of yogurt, she looks over her notes, and begins to write.
At the end of the day, she sends her writing to her editor.
Dinner, walking in the evening light, a shower, and off to bed.
For more memories to harvest.
And turn into novels
To give so many readers their own nightmares.
Campaign season
As November rolls around again, it’s the return of campaign season.
The ads and social networks are a cesspool of delusion and madness.
I can avoid them as best I can.
But my phone?
BING! BING! BING!
You’re not campaign volunteers. You’re goddamned parasites.
I turned off text alerts and vibration last week.
When do I look at my phone, I Report Junk on every campaign text.
And then go back to what I was doing.
I’ll turn it back on when this year’s shitshow ends, the credits roll, and the pundits throw shit at each other during the post-credits scene.
The fourth of July
Every year, Nathan’s Famous sets up the tables and chairs for the contestants.
Trays of hot dogs and buns, and pitchers of water.
The crowd gathers, the contestants take their seats, and the judges set out the trays.
The crowd counts down from ten… nine… eight…
When they get to zero, the contestants peel out the hot dogs, swallow them, then dunk the buns in the pitchers and swallow the buns.
The judges keep tally… ten… twenty… thirty…
Some contestants stop… others vomit… but a few keep going.
The crowd counts down to zero, and the judges tally the winner.
The crawl of fame
The walk of fame is just a bunch of names on plaques in a sleazy part of Los Angeles.
Weirdos in costumes harass the tourists, and pickpockets steal whatever they can get their hands on.
Or you get mugged and robbed and you’re crawling on the ground asking for help.
It’s the walk of fame, not the crawl of fame, loser.
Show some dignity. Get the fuck up.
This is Hollywood, dammit.
And stop bleeding on Charleton Heston.
Well, his star… not the actual man.
I can take your picture with it for five bucks.
Just hand me your phone…
Weekly Challenge #931 PICK TWO Free gift, Long live The King, Hit, Scribble, France, Waterfall
LISA
It feels like weeks since we’ve seen ‘no 1’ and It hits me that we don’t know the date. I wonder if we’d get one if we asked for a newspaper.
There’s not much to do–most of us are writing something now mostly just scribbled thoughts. We laugh playing with the free gift on the breakfast cereal. Laughter always makes us sad afterwards. The basement becomes quieter and more subdued. It’s odd isn’t it?
It prompts us to think about another explore. We’ve not wanted to since number 2 arrived but we plan and it lifts the mood again.
LIZZIE
It’s almost half past four. I pick up the book, a gift from a stranger in the park. “It’s about France,” he said with a smile. It hit me then that if I don’t leave, she will destroy me. “Why do you hate me so much?” She asked. I don’t. I never have. Wrong answer. And after that, she punished me for weeks with silence. I grab my small backpack, my whole life in it, and go. A gift, a smile, a gesture of generosity, and I am free. That’s all it took. Amazing, isn’t it? That’s all it took.
RICHARD
Free, or captive?
I’m a sucker for a free gift, doesn’t matter what it is, what it’s worth, or whatever it is I have to purchase or sign up for to get it, count me in.
Supermarket trips can be a nightmare, hit me with an aisle full of ‘buy one, get one free’, and I’ll be there all day, until the money runs out.
That’s becoming a real problem, actually. My habit has put me on the brink of bankruptcy, and even though every room in my house is stuffed full of freebies, there’s not an item of real value among them.
SERENDIPIDY
Long live the king, they shout and cheer. It sickens me, but let them have their moment, for it will soon be over and the streets will run with monarchist blood.
Tonight, the revolution begins, and we who have vowed to see a new future will rise up and claim France for its people.
No more will the aristocracy lord it over us, while we suffer and toil; no more will the working class support those who have never lifted a finger in honest labour.
Long live the king? I very much doubt it.
Vive la révolution!
Vive la France!
TOM
Faith
There is a waterfall in France call Labulaydelusane. As waterfall go it isn’t that high, or wide or watery crashy. What it has is a grotto of uncommon beauty. It gives the sanctuary of Lourdes Massabielle, a run for the money. A clever family in the 16th century place a pile of crutches against the wall. Over time folk have left 1000s of crutches on wall. The family got pretty damn rich hawking the healing water of Labulaydelusane. Everyone who left their crutches there need to roll away in a wheelchair. But still they come. Until the day Timmy arrived
848
Cross country.
cross country racing strategy does not necessarily simplify to running a steady pace from start to finish. runners debate the relative merits of fast starts to get clear of the field, versus steady pacing to maximize physiological efficiency. Some teams emphasize running in a group in order to provide encouragement, while others hold that every individual should run their own race. Whether you run ahead ‘of the pack’ or behind it and pull ahead in the end is important, but can vary according to the runner’s skill and endurance. Runners should also account for food intake prior to the race.
NORVAL JOE
Billbert hovered above the car crash. It was like a free gift from fate that the shooter had been dazed when he hit the ground.
He recognized the Lincoln Continental that had smashed into the van as Mr. Withybottom’s.
Three teenage Black Knights stumbled from the van. There was no movement from Mr. Withybottom.
As the residents crept into the meadow, Billbert heard distant sirens and a helicopter approaching.
The teens heard it too and scattered into the trees.
The shooter had come around and crawled to get his rifle. Billbert couldn’t allow that and flew fast to intercept him.
PLANET Z
Some say that the Iditarod is the toughest race, but having a team of dogs pull your sled through snow for a thousand miles is nothing compared to a fourth-grader having to drag a cello eight blocks from home to music school and back through Harlem at night.
That’s why we set up the Midnight Youth Orchestra in one of the basketball courts.
The kids come out and play, and the dealers stop dealing, the hookers stop hooking, and the junkies stop junking.
Everybody forgets where they are and who they are.
Until Old Mrs. Washington files a noise complaint.
CHATGPT
In the heart of France, a waterfall whispered secrets to the passing winds. Amidst its mist, a traveler stumbled upon a scribbled note—a plea for freedom, a gift from a silenced voice. Unraveling its message, the traveler uncovered a plot against the king, a hit orchestrated by dissenters. Determined to protect the monarchy, the traveler raced to the castle, delivering the warning. The king’s reign was safeguarded, his gratitude overflowing like the cascade before him. Long live the king echoed through the land, a testament to the power of loyalty and the resilience of a nation united.
Smart Monitor
My doctor told me to lose weight, eat less sugar, lower my cholesterol and blood pressure, and exercise more.
So I got a smart scale, a smart watch, a smart treadmill, and a blood pressure monitor.
And for the past few months, I’ve dropped 30 pounds, my blood pressure is normal, and all my numbers are much better.
All those numbers are reported to my doctor’s office.
She doesn’t believe any of it.
“Who did you pay to take all those tests for you?” she asked.
“Nobody,” I said.
And I don’t have enough freeweights to stack on the scale.
NDA
Yes, I write. And I’ve been published.
Well, my work has been published.
Me, I prefer a low profile.
Pseudonyms and ghost-writing.
Let someone else take the credit, I just want the money and the challenge of writing.
Sometimes, the people I ghost-write for don’t honor the contract.
They refuse to pay.
So I offer to write for their political opponent or enemy, or go to the press with what they told me.
“The contract includes the non disclosure agreement,” I say.
They threaten lawyers. They threaten revenge.
But they always pay up.
And it makes for a good story.
DH
In baseball, pitchers tend not to be good hitters.
In the American League, they have a designated hitter.
Instead of the pitcher batting, they have someone else bat for him.
Players who don’t field well often are designated hitters.
In the National League, they make pitchers bat.
Or a pinch hitter bats for them, and then another pitcher has to take over pitching for them.
Major League Baseball saw that pitchers were an easy out or would bunt a runner along the bases.
So, they decided to relieve all pitchers of hitting duty.
By locking all of the players out.