Category: My stories

Frederick maintained the boiling oil over the entryway at the Duke’s castle. But he used the finest cooking oil of the kingdom, and he had a side business of making skewers of tempura, vegetables and chicken. It was quite the lucrative venture. On Thanksgiving, he would deep fry turkeys. The Duke really enjoyed deep fried turkey, and he gave Frederick a promotion. Frederick‘s assistant, then took over the oil duties, but the next Thanksgiving he forgot to thaw the turkey and when they were dropped in to the cauldron, the ice flashed to steam and scalded everyone in the tower.

When it came to jobs at the castle, a lot of the guards were jealous of Frederick. He was in charge of the night shift for the boiling oil that they could pour over enemy soldiers coming through the main entrance. with the castle being in northern Denmark, and it’s cold climate, Frederick was warm in winter while the archers on the parapets had to wrap themselves in multiple elk skins. Then the Duke remodeled the entrance to use interchangeable archers to fire through murder holes. Frederick was not so good with a bow and arrow, and he was downsized.

More and more football players are suffering the effects of multiple concussions and brain damage. Despite tougher rules and tougher helmets, weak schools and brains still end up damaged. Thankfully, there’s an endless supply of guys willing to make millions at the expense of their long-term health. Scientists look to nature for Solutions. The woodpecker has a tongue so long, it wraps around its brain while it’s bashing its head against a tree. Genetically engineering a football player with such a long tongue might be difficult, but I’m sure that the cheerleaders and the players baby mamas would approve.

Jenny saw the silver picture frames at an estate sale. There weren’t any pictures in them. Which meant the family wanted the photos but not the frames which is strange, I mean, they’re silver, but maybe they just needed the money. Or maybe they bought the frames but never got around to putting pictures in them. Or they took the pictures out to put into a photo album. Her mind raced with possibilities, telling stories and stories about stories. She bought them for really cheap, went to a jewelry store, and sold them for their silver. For a good price.

The Robo corporation releases new models every year. The latest, Trixie, is a rather versatile model that can handle most tasks. Unlike their Heather or Yoko, it can handle domestic housework, babysitting, offshore oil rig maintenance, and some surgical procedures. The Eloise, which was recalled recently, was only in limited release and despite several firmware updates, never quite could get the hang of yoga or crochet. And the less said about Cynthia, the better. When I last heard, the class action lawsuit had been settled with the victims or their families. What a nasty piece of work that Cynthia was.

The art institute sent out invitations to artists every year to display their works at the annual Queen’s Show.
Submissions came in to the dock around the clock.
The curators cataloged each piece, then the head curator would determine where it would go.
To “sky” a piece meant putting it high up on a wall, while “on the line” put it at the visitors’ eyeline.
The best art went into the front hall at the eyeline, while the worst went up into the sky of the backrooms.
Well, the ones that didn’t disappear from the dock and into the night.

Most superpowered individuals register with their respective governments. Some governments are more open about their members than others are, but all of them hold back a few names. Whether you call them heroes or villains, it all depends on the circumstance, I guess. And some individuals prefer the vigilante track. There is no global registry, so sometimes there’s two or three records for the same person or different translations of their name. So, what you have there is Captain Cyclone from Sri Lanka, not Captain Hurricane from old New Orleans, we can bring you in peacefully or not. Your choice.

A friend of mine has been having hip problems for years.
Still, she has to pick up after her husband and grandkids, because they never clean up after themselves.
She’s finally gotten surgery for her hips, and they hurt like hell, but they will feel a lot better with painkillers, rest, and physical therapy.
Her family got her one of those grabber arms that she can use to pick things up from her temporary walker and wheelchair.
Instead, she uses it to point at things for them to pick up.
And if they don’t, she whacks them with the grabber.

I put vibration sensors on my trashcan and recycling bin so I know when they have been collected. That way I can go out and wheel them back up the driveway. I set the sensors only to go off on the mornings that they’re supposed to be collected. However, if I have a late bag of trash or collection of cans to recycle, dumping them in the bin that morning will set off the sensor. The only person that bothers is me, so I should probably just disable the sensors and relax a bit. Life isn’t graded on a curve.

When I go for my walk in the morning, I can choose between turning left and turning right at the main road Left allows me to take the short path through the trees and I’m done in 15 minutes. Or I can just keep going and head out to the Main route for another 5 to 10 minutes walk. If I turn right, I can walk the path through the abandoned golf course that was turned into a park. But that takes me about 30 or 40 minutes. In the end, it’s just important that I get up and walk and get my ass moving.