Category: Weekly Challenge

Weekly challenge #1051 – An empty cup

The next topic is Gemstone

LISA

Thirsty
The cup was plastic
The cup was white
The cup was just out of reach.
She attempted to lean
She tried a shuffle
Her thirst grew but still the little cup just sat on her table
A nurse passed the end of her bed and she tried to talk, tried to nod, to groan but the nurse was reading some notes so didn’t notice and left the ward.
A cough tickled at her parched throat and lurched her body forward, knocking the cup over. Spilling the contents. The empty cup lay on the hospital floor, waiting to be thrown away.

LIZZIE

The café was still closed. “The clients are outside.” The stress. Let them wait, said the manager. Wait?! The clients will leave. The manager, furious, slammed the door open, letting a flood of people in. “Line up, ladies and gentlemen.” Some of the clients left. And like so, day after day, the café went bankrupt. “Now we’re unemployed.” The manager sneered. “I’ve got a job for you.” The staff looked surprised. “I have a… parallel business in the basement.” Six people were counting bills. Millions. “Where is this money coming from?!” The manager smiled. “No one knows.” And he winked.

RICHARD

Unpredictable

The old woman stared into the empty cup before looking up at me curiously.
“Young man,” she said – I liked that – “I have never seen a pattern like this before. It is hard to know exactly what the tea leaves are saying.
On the one hand, I see them spell success, wealth and power, on the other… well, shall we just say the future doesn’t look quite so bright?”
I was annoyed. I hadn’t crossed her palm with silver for that.
I grabbed the cup and looked inside.
I saw exactly what the leaves were saying.
My teabag had split!

SERENDIPIDY

An empty cup.
A dead body.
I know what you’re thinking. I poisoned him, right?
You’re wrong, that was the last thing on my mind when he woke me this morning with a cup of tea.
It was a thoughtful gesture.
But, he didn’t really think it through.
I don’t drink tea first thing in the morning; and if I did, believe me, it wouldn’t be black, with two sugars.
I drink coffee.
And without my morning coffee, I get very grumpy indeed.
He knew that, and still he gave me tea. Black, with two sugars.
So, I strangled him.

TOM

And left the cup unreconciled.

The empty tea cup sits to my left. Victorian blue edged in gold-leaf, hell 30% of the thing in gold-leaf. The handle done in a Greek revile manner that is known as Colonial. Echoing the silver work of Revere I found it at the back of Diann’s China cabinet. A tiny item in the mass of object that must not find new homes. It screams of drawing room pretension, so unlike the woman who last owned it. More Tupperware than China, more dairy queen than Hight tea. It is doubtful I will ever have cause to fill it with tea.

NORVAL JOE

“Why are we at Bobby’s house?” Sabrina asked Billbert’s mother as they navigated through the trash in the front yard.

Mrs. Weinerheimer kicked an empty paper cup with her toe. “Look at this mess. Children’s protective service is coming here in the morning. If we don’t get their house straightened up, Bobby and Patrick will be removed from the home before they’re able to verify our story.”

Surprised to find them on her porch this late, Bobby still invited them in.

“Do you need something?” she asked.

“Yes,” Joan said. “But first we need to get your house cleaned up.”

PLANET Z

Ollie, the owner of the company, would put a cup on the floor and practice his golf putting in his office. His son, Richard, had the whole back wall of his office taken out and he would practice like he was on the driving range. The factory floor was pretty large, but the ball tended to ricochet off the machinery and the employees. They’ve got hard hats, said, Richard, teeing up another ball. Ollie, ever the diplomat, offered hazard pay to anybody who took a golf ball to the head. It’s not like Richard isn’t shouting fore, right? He said.

Have you met Jesus

A pair of Jehovah’s Witnesses girls were at the door, asking me if I wanted to go to church with them to learn about Jesus Christ. I told them that they’re at the wrong house. Jesus Christ lives next-door. They didn’t believe me, so I walked over next door with them and knocked, and Jesus opened the door and said hey. The two girls were absolutely stunned. I said hey dude. Can I get my lawnmower back? Jesus shrugged and told his voice assistant to open the garage. The girls just stood there, I went and got my lawnmower back.

Weekly challenge #1050 – Tokyo

The next topic is An empty cup

LISA

The Case of the Missing Baggage

Have you seen online where someone buys unclaimed baggage and then livestreams the opening to show what they got for the money? I tried it!
The gamble of Rolexes and Gucci belts or dirty pants and leaked suntan cream. My case was well travelled with a Tokyo sticker on the side. Oddly light when unpacked because it had a false bottom! Heroin: street Value in the millions. I thought that was my fortune made; except I’d livestreamed it so had to give the heroin, case and contents to the customs team that called round shortly after the video went viral.

RICHARD

Tokyo Drift

Tokyo isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, believe me.
Sure they have pedestrian crossings, trains that run on time, cherry blossoms and ramen… lots of delicious ramen.
And let’s not forget the maid cafes! Those are a whole lot of fun.
But there’s a downside to it also.
The working hours are long and you’re obliged to do them, and you don’t get extra pay for extra time.
The houses are small and prices are high, and don’t mention the traffic.
Not that any of that really bothers me much.
Being a Yakuza has its perks, get my drift?

SERENDIPIDY

The name’s evocative, isn’t it?
Bullet Train.
Two simple words that speak volumes. Speed and efficiency, punctuality and the striving for excellence.
If I were in Tokyo; but I’m not.
I’m in a quiet backwoods location, alongside a railway line; the rest of the gang are a little further along, waiting to rendezvous.
And the train is no passenger express, it’s the mail train, loaded with cash and gold.
I’ve changed the signal to red and the train is coming slowly to a stop.
I emerge from the shadows and take aim, as the driver steps down.
Bullet… meet train!

LEWIE

Title: Everything But the Tea

“I need to grab a bottle of tea”, the tourist said.

They stepped into a konbini. A selection of 30 rice balls caught their attention. After five minutes, they panicked and grabbed the only flavor they couldn’t identify, deciding to live life to its fullest and take a chance.

The little store in Tokyo had a better life organization than they did.

They picked up fried chicken, pudding, socks, and a phone charger.

“Would you want chopsticks, a spoon, a bag, a receipt, and heating?” the cashier asked.

So many questions, and overcome with a fear of forgetting something.

“Yes”

LIZZIE

He booked a trip to Japan. He wanted to visit Kyoto, Osaka, Kobe. He wanted to just sit and enjoy the beauty of the cherry blossoms. So, he landed in Tokyo. He was hungry. He went to a street vendor and sat down to eat. And he stayed. He ate and stayed some more. The food was so good, Kyoto and everywhere else would have to wait. A few months later, he moved to Tokyo, and his life changed. Strange guys with massive tattoos hired him to be a bouncer. He’d do anything for that food, even go to jail.

TOM

My Woman From Tokyo

Uncle Bob loved to tell tales of his time in China during the war. His job was to guard high value Japanizes prisoner. After VJ day he continues this work in Tokyo. This is how he met Iva Toguri the voice of Zero Hour, Tokyo Rose. Uncle Bob was her guard and they become good friends. When Iva was released from prison she settled in Chicago. She and my uncle remained friends until his death in 1981. He always spoke highly of her and thought the government had treated her unfairly. I think he might have had a crush on her.

NORVAL JOE

Pinkerton turned to Joan. “Where do you think they are?”

Joan shrugged. “Last we saw, Mr. Yaan was being carried out to sea by a tornado. He’s probably halfway to Tokyo by now.”

Ms. Pinkerton’s face went bright red. She snarled, “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” Joan said, recognizing only her superpower might save them and a veil of efficiency spread around them. “Patrick and Bobby Yaan can verify this.”

“Okay, bit it’s late,” Pinkerton said. “We can meet at the Yaan’s house tomorrow morning, say 9:00?”

Joan nodded and shuttled Sabrina back to her car.

PLANET Z

Just as I was waking up and making a cup of coffee, I knew that my coworker in Japan was coming home from a night out in the Tokyo clubs. He usually left an encouraging message and a stack of code changes that I needed to test and document. However, this night there was a ransom note and a photo of a bloody finger. They wanted access to the code base, but my coworker refused to enter the password. Company policy is to notify our security team so I did. I finished my coffee, sat in my chair, and prayed.

Weekly challenge #1049 – PICK TWO Buffering, Update, An old postcard, offensive, Roll

The next topic is Tokyo

LIZZIE

Dear You,
Here’s an unrequested update that will cause a sudden flare-up of indigestion, I know.
He took everything. The jewels, the money, even the hand-painted dishes no one liked.
He did leave a rather offensive note behind that I’ll refrain from copying here.
Now, how do you want to roll? Shall we hunt him down or simply ignore him?
Crazy question, I know. I can hear your swearing from the future. I know your answer.
I’ve gathered a team. I know where he hangs out.
Meet you at the usual place. Tomorrow, midnight.
Bring the meat grinder.
Yours truly.

RICHARD

Wish you were here
I was clearing out the loft. The usual rubbish collected over the years, most of it useless; some bound for charity shops, one or two items worth salvaging and the rest destined for the tip.
Amongst some old newspapers, I rediscovered the relics of a childhood family holiday, including an old postcard.
It was the typical British seaside affair, a cartoon of a busty babe in a bikini, buying an ice-cream.
“I’d like a large one, please. I do like a good long licking!”
Harmless fun, back in the day.
But, I’ve no doubt, hugely offensive to modern sensibilities.

TOM

From the Lost Room

For many years I have been on a great scavenger’s hunt. It was connected to the tv show “The Lost Room”. One of the items of the collection was a painting of an old oak tree. In the fore-ground of the painting was on odd shape stone. After much searching, I learned the oak in question had been on the U of C campus in Berkley. Figured the paint might have some source image. So, I found an old postcard from 1915 which pretty much matched the painting. Written on the card was an update about a trip to Oakland.

SERENDIPIDY

I was struggling with the latest Windows update.
For an hour I’d watched the spinning wheel on the screen: buffering constantly, without a care in the world.
I was in a hurry. I had work to do, I was up against a deadline… But the technology didn’t care and it was taking its own good time to mess me about.
With each circle of the wheel I could feel my stress levels growing.
This was exactly what the shrink had warned me about.
I glanced at the semi-automatic at my side.
Anger, or the update; which would it be?

NORVAL JOE

Old Doris Grindlebomb was 92 when her family took her keys away. No, they weren’t the keys to her Cadillac convertible. There was no way in hell they were gonna take those away from her no matter how blind she was. Or, blind drunk. It was the keys to piano that they took away. For 70 years, she had been the music teacher at the local elementary school, and they would’ve retired her long ago if anyone else had wanted the job. She switched to the saxophone. She was so bad at it, they gave her the piano keys back.

PLANET Z

Old Doris Grindlebomb was 92 when her family took her keys away. No, they weren’t the keys to her Cadillac convertible. There was no way in hell they were gonna take those away from her no matter how blind she was. Or, blind drunk. It was the keys to piano that they took away. For 70 years, she had been the music teacher at the local elementary school, and they would’ve retired her long ago if anyone else had wanted the job. She switched to the saxophone. She was so bad at it, they gave her the piano keys back.

Weekly challenge #1048 – Give Up

The next topic is PICK TWO
Buffering
Update
An old postcard
offensive
Roll

LIZZIE

Give up. Give up. Give up. And he tossed and turned on the bunk bed. Nightmares turning into night sweats. His ears beating to the drum of his heart. Tomorrow. It’ll be another day. Tomorrow. But it never was another day. It was the same day, over and over again. The same intelligence gathering. The same raids. The same ambushes. The same killings. The same deaths. A never-ending string of horrors. Give up… He wished closing his eyes would make everything disappear. The noise, the nightmares, his heartbeat. Give up… That nagging voice hammered on. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’ll give up.

RICHARD

Marathon
Ask any marathon runner and they will tell you about ‘hitting the wall’. That’s the moment when the fatigue completely overwhelms your body and there’s nothing in the world you want more than to quit.
In technical terms, it’s the point at which your cells run out of glycogen – the fuel that powers your body.
And, right now, I was hitting the wall, big time!
“Keep going!” Somebody in the crowd shouted, “Don’t give up!”
Easy for them to say.
I gave up.
Fell to the ground, exhausted.
And laboriously crawled back the long hundred yards to the start line.

TOM

Full Measure.

O’Brian gave the Lt. Daley the small square of paper. On it were written two words. He raised his eyes to meet the faces of the last of the defenders. It was very quiet, so in a whisper the Lt gave the only order he could give the circumstances. It was a one word, matching the one note of the trumpet. When the fog of war settled the tribe took the field. Second Si-At Paylax stood before Daley’s body. He carefully removed the crumple square of paper. “Why didn’t they give up?” he mused put the paper in his pocket.

NORVAL JOE

“Mrs. Weinerheimer, I appreciate you bringing Sabrina back,” Ms. Pinkerton of Child Protective Services said. “We’ll take care of her from here.”

Joan Weinerheimer was suddenly filled with fury and stepped forward. “I’m not going to give up on Sabrina. You had us turn her in before and where did she end up? Locked in a basement by a group of cultists.”

Pinkerton tried to mask her surprise and said, “That’s a serious charge. I hope you have more than just this girl to back up your accusations.”

Sabrina said, “Let’s go to the Yaan’s house. You can see yourself.”

SERENDIPIDY

You really should give up now. In the long run, it’s for the best; you’re just delaying the inevitable, so why not give up and accept your fate?
You can run, you can hide, you can even fight back if you think that will make a difference.
It won’t.
The outcome is a forgone conclusion. I will hunt you down, and when I have you in my grasp, I will kill you. Slowly. Painfully, and without the slightest remorse.
If you must, then try to escape me, but it really is pointless.
Just give up now.
Because, I never do.

LEWIE

Title: Santa’s Little OSHA Violation

A jolly “Ho-ho-ho” came from behind, followed by “Hidey ho, neighbor!”

“Hello, Santa,” little Timmy replied.

“Why the long face?” Santa asked.

Timmy showed him a block of wood. “I’m building a pinewood derby car, but I have no tools.”

Santa put his hands on his waist and made grunting sounds, followed by the order: “Never give up. Never surrender!”

Santa went into his bag and grabbed a few presents, handing them over. Timmy quickly ripped open the packages, finding a chainsaw, angle grinder, nail gun, industrial CNC router, plasma cutter, and a flame thrower, while Santa shouted, “More power!”

PLANET Z

You’ve heard about the Christmas Truce in World War One, but have you heard of The Big Surrender of The Second Punic War?
Lines of Carthagagenians and Romans facing off, throwing spears and charging, and all of the sudden, silence.
Everybody threw down their swords and spears and shields and held up their hands in surrender.
From the lowest stable slave to the highest general, they all surrendered.
Nobody knew what to do at that point.
They all looked around, trying to figure out what happened.
Or what to do next.
Many just sat down and stared for a while.

Weekly Challenge #1047 – Railing

The next topic is Give Up

LISA

The Railing of Lost Things

There’s a railing where the Portobello Road meets Westway: The Railing of Lost Things. People travel to leave their finds on it. It has single gloves, socks and wellies. Scarves flap in the breeze and rusting keys nestle where the rails join the floor.
It’s an impossibly beautiful curation… a place for the faded, sun scorched and old. I visit when I’m that side of town. Remembering the day that I met my husband there all those years ago; as I wove a blanket through the metal posts hoping someone cold would find it and claim it as their own.

RICHARD

Expressly Forbidden

As a lad, I loved trains.
A railway line ran past the end of our school playing field, and during break times and lunch, a bunch of us used to congregate there to watch the trains passing.
Sometimes, we’d sneak on to the line, clambering over the railing to place coins on the track, to be flattened as the trains thundered over them.
It was a laugh, and we were always very careful.
Well, maybe not always.
One sunny Spring day, my best friend Brian lingered on the line, just a little too long.
I don’t like trains any more.

LIZZIE

The stairs to the basement had no railing. “No one ever goes down there anyway,” he said. One day, they decided to sell the house. There was nothing but a small apothecary cabinet with empty drawers in the basement. “Who put this here?” She shrugged. “Garbage.” That’s when the problems started. He tripped and hit his head on the corner of the cabinet. She twisted an ankle and he dislocated a shoulder while trying to move it. Enough was enough. They decided to leave it behind. The cabinet whispered “Railing”. They rushed to sell the house for half its worth.

TOM

If only ..

On the surface one might consider railing and kvetching of equal stature. While both zero-in on projected state of displeasure, Kvetching is in a league of its own. Railing is an end in itself, a purge of injustice, seeking resolution. To kvetch is to drag everyone within ear shoot through the nine rings of hell. If done correctly an infinite chain of propositions each expressly delivered with a world weary voice fill with hopelessness. While I am quite skill at railing on and on. I do not have the endurance to kvetch out. I lack the guile and the wit.

SERENDIPIDY

The great stone sarcophagus in the corner of the cemetery is rather impressive. Wreathed in ivy, and covered with the moss of ages, it stands alone in its own remote dedicated plot.
Like so many of its kind, it is surrounded by a wrought iron railing.
Unlike other plots however, the railing is topped with razor wire, coated with anti -climb paint, and bears numerous bright yellow warning notices attached on all sides.
These measures are not designed to keep trespassers and curious onlookers out, but rather, to keep someone safely and securely confined inside.
Welcome, to my humble abode.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert followed Mandi out of her room to the railing of the stairs, looking down on the main floor of the house.

She turned to him, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Billbert. This was something I had to do. You can do whatever you want. Say whatever you want. Just don’t ask me about the ring and don’t take it off.”

Billbert held up his hands, about to ask why, but found he couldn’t put the question into words. Eventually, he just said. “Okay, then. What do we do now?”

Mandi shrugged. “Maybe we should make something to eat.”

LEWIE

Title: Steam-Powered Summer
The couple leaned against the decorative railing of the Delta Queen, admiring the view of the natural vegetation along the shores of the Mississippi River.

Behind them, the steam-powered calliope organ was playing a joyful tune, echoing back from the valleys.

Their excitement was building, as they would be next to get a chance to learn how to play it, and be rewarded with a certificate.

Decades later, long after a divorce, their son would find an old framed photograph of the beautiful steam-powered paddle boat on her wall, showing that his mother still cherished that moment in time.

PLANET Z

It’s been a long time since I’ve lived above the ground floor. I think the last time was when I was on the third floor of a new apartment complex. We had a small balcony and a railing, but we never went out there. One day, my roommate left the door open, and I knew this because I saw one of my cats balanced on the railing, but not balancing all that well. I got up and ran to the balcony and grabbed her just as she was about to fall. I don’t think we ever went out there again.

Weekly Challenge #1046 – Complete idiot

The next topic is Railing

LEWIE

The newspaper described John as an idiot. Frustrated, he threw the paper down in his lap.

“That editor is a complete idiot,” he said.

His wife, well aware of the outdated clinical classifications, asked, “How does that compare to an incomplete idiot?”

John stared at her, irritated, trying to understand her point.

“He called me an idiot,” he explained.

“The last I checked, both you and he had PhDs.” she replied. “I don’t think that word means what you think it means.”

John grumbled behind the newspaper, “As you wish”, and continued reading the article written by a complete idiot.

RICHARD

Qualified Opinion
Correct me if I’m wrong: it seems to me that these days that to hold a position of leadership in politics, the primary qualification is to be a complete idiot.
Gone are the days when integrity, honesty and the capacity to hold one’s own in a debate without resorting to crudity and insults were key qualities of one in such positions.
Neither do you need to champion, listen to, or otherwise care about the people you represent.
Maybe it’s time we made them wear the red noses, make-up and giant shoes, and fool around like the clowns they clearly are.

LISA

A Subscription Kit
It’s something I can’t miss out on. The first collaboration with Lego and a subscription provider. A weekly lego delivery offering the chance to build a limited edition piece over a year.
I sign up immediately.
Initially, it’s reasonably priced. And then it doubles. And then the cost doubles again. And I can’t back out because although it’s only one tiny block I’m getting a month I need to finish to see the bigger picture.
By Christmas I’ve built a small frame. The last issue contains a little mirror and a tube of glue. My complete idiot lego kit done.

LIZZIE

The ticket booth was empty.
“I guess it’s free today.”
When he entered the fairgrounds, a man chasing him yelled, “Ticket, ticket!”
He explained that he did try to buy a ticket.
The man waved his hand dismissively.
“How many?”
He replied, “One.”
The man looked at him. “Now you must pay for two.”
“Two?! Why?”
“Because I say so.”
Wrong answer, he thought. “Do you have a death wish?”
The man blinked.
“Give me one ticket.”
The man gave him one ticket and charged him for two.
Good thing there was a loose plank right next to the booth.

SERENDIPIDY

Only a complete idiot would leave their fingerprints and DNA all over the scene of a crime they’d just committed, right?
Naturally, I don’t consider myself to be an idiot, so I always take particular care to avoid contaminating the scene with any evidence that might incriminate me.
Paper overalls, gloves and a face mask are essential; hilariously, I employ exactly the same approach as the forensic investigators who come after me!
However, you will find plenty of fingerprints and other evidence all over my handiwork.
It’s stuff I’ve kept from my previous victim: call it, recycling, if you like!

TOM

To long a list to even index by topic.

Complete idiot is my default state. Rushing head long into some enterprise way out side my skill level. I would not be so bad if it didn’t impact someone counting on the success of the final effect. Once someone ask be to build a two feq. dome in their bedroom. I used a tight grain pine, beautiful warm brown. And the miters prefect, edges chamfering. All had to do it put a clear seal, but no I decided to paint it Robin Egg blue. Yes, Complete Idiot, client rejected it. Lost major coin on that project and a second commission.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert held up his hands. “Now I’ve got a ring on each of my hands. No one else at school wears even one. I’ll feel like a complete idiot.”

He started to pull the ring from his finger.

Mandi blurted, “Don’t take it off.”

Billbert’s hand, reaching for the ring, obediently dropped back to his lap.

He had a sinking feeling. He stood up and exclaimed, “Does this ring make me do whatever you tell me?”

She waved her hand at him. “Oh, be quiet. Of course not.”

Unable to speak, Billbert mouthed the words at Mandi, “I can’t talk.”

PLANET Z

Saint Mathurin is the Patron Saint of Idiots.
Not to be mistaken for Saint Simeon Salos, who looks after fools.
He himself was not a fool, he only pretended.
But between idiots and fools, there’s a difference.
Not that you’d notice, being an idiot.
Although Mathurin also looks after clowns, jesters, and plumbers.
I’m not sure how plumbers fits in with them.
They’re pretty smart, charging so much, while you’re the one standing there like a fool, staring at their asscrack as they fix a leak under the sink.
Speaking of which, here’s my bill.
Cash, please.
I’m no fool.

Weekly Challenge #1044 – PICK TWO Fever, Shoulder, Torpid, Hairbrush, A dead plant

The next topic is Family portrait

RICHARD

The House Sitter
“It’s just a dead plant. Look, when you asked me to house sit, I thought you just wanted me to keep an eye on the place. You should have made it clear you expected me to do other stuff too, like watering your precious plants!”
“Oh, it was precious? Seriously, how much? For a silly miniature tree? You must be crazy!”
“No, don’t go giving me the cold shoulder. I was good enough to step in at short notice; don’t take me to task over this.”
“What do you mean, did I at least feed the cat properly?”
“What cat?”

LEWIE

Title: Craigslist Said It Was Healthy

“Take care of Jarold. He’s a bit troublesome in the mornings,” my manager said, feverishly preparing for his vacation.

Jarold… was a ficus.

Jarold was dead on arrival.

Panic set in. I scrolled the marketplace and found an ad.

We met in a questionable alley downtown.

The woman rummaged through her truck, hair brushing over junk, and handed me a torpid plant.

“This one matches your aura”.

I couldn’t shoulder the guilt. It was eating me alive.

By the time my manager returned, he paused, surprised.

“Keep the plant”, he said, “Jarold seems to like you.”

Jarold Jr. is thriving.

LIZZIE

The new dead plant in the garden of dead plants was rather cheeky, bragging about being the deadliest dead plant around. The other dead plants chuckled. A fever of hatred ensued. The deadliest dead plant…. Who cares? She’s dead. The new dead plant vowed to kill them all. The problem was that they were already dead. That’s when she came up with a plan. Fertilizer! She summoned the wind. The fertilizer flew from the ripped bag, and the dead plants, horrified, began to sprout again. “Happy to be alive? That is a kind of death, isn’t it, you silly weeds?”

SERENDIPIDY

He was shivering violently, sweating profusely; groaning in evidently intense pain.
“The fever will pass soon” I reassured him, “and then there will be no more pain, no more anything really. You’ll just slip quietly away.”
I picked up my notebook, jotting down my observations. This was my most successful experiment so far. Who would have thought that a simple, ground-up dead plant could be so viciously toxic?”
I suppose you could consider my experiments somewhat unethical. Why subject people to a painful death, when lab rats would surely suffice?
Simple: I’m an animal lover.
And, besides, it’s fun!

NORVAL JOE

Billbert stared at the ring Mandi had placed on his finger and then watched as she placed one on her own.

His head suddenly burned with fever and his thoughts became vague and torpid. His vision went bright white and he collapsed backward onto her bed.

Billbert felt a sharp pain on his cheek and then again. He opened his eyes to see Mandi leaning over him. Her lips moved frantically but he couldn’t hear what she said.

When his hearing returned, Mandi said and showed him her finger, “These are my grandparent’s rings. I think you are mine, now.”

PLANET Z

Ned Pearson was apprentice to Wordmaster Bunson last fall. The old man spent his time in a wheelchair and he was nearly deaf and completely blind. He would think of stories and Ned would write them down. Repeat that back to me, said Bunson. And Ned would read off what Bunson had said. Bunson would think for a moment and he would either have Ned cross out that line and replace it or he would continue with his story. Sometimes, Bunson would have Ned go back and read everything. Thank you, Ned. said Bunson. Perfectly done. Ned said you’re welcome.

Weekly Challenge #1043 – An empty deodorant can

The next topic is PICK TWO
Fever
Shoulder
Torpid
Hairbrush
A dead plant

LIZZIE

Beach towel, sunglasses. An empty deodorant can? She’d stopped using spray deodorants ages ago, when being environmentally friendly was a thing. Suddenly, the can beeped. She quickly tossed it away, but her guilty made her pick it up again. Then, a red dot appeared exactly when her ex walked up. “Hello!” For some reason, he took the can from her and… vanished. To her amazement, the can spoke. “Thank you for helping us capture a human specimen of the stupid kind. We’ll research him thoroughly.” Perhaps she could help again. She knew a few more specimens of the stupid kind.

RICHARD

Warning
If there’s one thing I really can’t stand, it’s the nanny state.
Politicians, public bodies and corporations ‘looking after’ our interests and keeping us safe from harm.
Let’s cut to the chase… I’m perfectly capable of exercising viewer discretion, without being advised to do it by some well-meaning TV announcer.
I don’t need a warning telling me the contents of my apple pie or coffee cup may be hot, I can figure that out by myself, thank you very much!
As for this warning on my deodorant can: ‘Do not pierce, even when empty’… well, we’ll see about that!

TOM

Got No Title, Kids

As a rule, I’m pretty fluid with topics here at the Challenge. I can say only a handful of prompts have left me staring blankly into space. This is one. So, I asked AI is there any thing interesting about empty deodorant cans. This is what it spit out: Empty deodorant containers are widely available for purchase online for DIY projects, ranging in price from roughly $1 to $3 per unit depending on quantity and material (plastic or cardboard). Is there an infinity retention of value for all manufactured items? Wait! Who these people buying this stuff? Get a life.

SERENDIPIDY

A chair, bolted to the floor.
Cable ties and duct tape.
An empty deodorant can and a cigarette lighter, lying together, discarded carelessly on the floor.
A cryptic puzzle, silently begging you to put the pieces together.
What happened here? Can you guess? Can you work it out?
Or perhaps you need something more obvious to reconstruct recent events?
The moaning, coming from the corner of the room should be an obvious clue.
But, if you still haven’t got it, then maybe you should take a closer look.
His melted face is a bit of a giveaway, don’t you think?

NORVAL JOE

Billbert took Mandi’s hand and they flew to her bedroom window. She pushed it open and waved Billbert in.

Once inside, she pointed to her bed. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t think it appropriate for a boy to sit on a girl’s bed but as there were no other chairs in the room he gave up and sat.

She brought in an old deodorant can that rattled when she shook it.

“Hold out your hand,” she said as she twisted the bottom from the can.

Obediently, Billbert did and Mandi shoved a ring onto his finger.

PLANET Z

It was time to clean out the cupboards in the bathroom.
Old pills, crusted-over bottles of cough medicine.
It all went in the trash.
We found some dead bugs back there.
Bandages that fell out of the pack.
Cotton swabs, too.
Burnt-out light bulbs… we checked them, sure enough.
I guess we replaced a few in the vanity and never threw out the dead ones.
Some tooth brushes left over from when we went electric.
A spent can of deodorant spray.
Not sure why that wasn’t thrown out.
Empty the bin into the trash can, and close the lid tight.

Weekly Challenge #1042 – Chip

The next topic is An empty deodorant can

RICHARD

Like his dad?
She turned and smiled at me with pride, “Won’t you just look at that, he’s a real chip off the old block.”
Well, he may have been my kid, but I was struggling to see even the remotest resemblance to myself. It was ten years since I’d last seen him, thanks to a very messy divorce.
I tried to see myself in him, but I couldn’t equate the skinny, ballet-dancing, somewhat effeminate boy with his beer-swilling, biker dad.
“I’m not sure, Sherry, he’s nothing like me.”
“I know that, you jerk… It’s me he takes after. Thank God!”

LIZZIE

The yacht was new. Was it? The plan was to sail aimlessly for a week, exploring the small beaches along the coast. A bad plan. Deciding to sail aimlessly was just the first of many problems. Upon closer inspection, they noticed water and chips of rotten wood drifting inside the hull. Then an error message appeared. An electronic chip was apparently damaged. An argument erupted, and chipped teeth happened. When they finally returned back home, they vowed to sell the yacht, and pay for the dentist with the money. It was either that or try their luck at the casino.

TOM

Peeking Early

He was 42 and his name was Chip. Though he graduated of U of C in business, he worked for his dad at the mobile house company. He actually looked like a chip. Browning blonde hair, a good 6 foot two. Horn rimmed glasses and a not so smile smile. We did a lot of paper work for the purchase of the house. I’m sure he did something to make the paperwork flow. Never learned his give name. Since that was 40 years ago that would make him in his 80s. Can you be Chip rounding 90? Peeking early.

SERENDIPIDY

Being a contract killer isn’t completely without its risks.
There are, of course, the obvious challenges – you’re not exactly dealing with decent folk, and that goes for those hiring you, as well as those you’re going to be taking out. Then, of course, there’s the cops and all the associated dangers of getaway driving, hiding-out and taking care of potential witnesses.
As I said, it’s a risky business.
However, sometimes it’s the small, unexpected things that really trip you up.
Like the last job I did…
I got a nasty chip in my nail polish from the pistol trigger.

NORVAL JOE

Finding a safe place to take off, Billbert flew just above the trees to the Withybottom’s mansion. Mandi waited for him on the front porch.

When Billbert landed at the top of the steps, he asked, “Did you forget your key?”

She held it up. “No. There’s something stuck in the keyhole.”

Billbert peered into the hole. “You’re right. Someone hammered a wood chip into it. Who would do something like that?

“Who else?” Mandi stated. “John the butler.”

She sighed. “All of the other doors are sabotaged, too.”

Billbert said cheerfully, “We’ll just have to find another way in.”

LEWIE

Title: Repeat Until Texture Is Uniform

Charles has indirectly pierced

corn husks inside Paul’s

chipper. Howling in panic,

Charles had ignored pain,

creeping humbly, influencing present

conditions. Hope infused Paul,

carrying him. “I progressed—

clearing hazards, I’ll persevere,”

calming hands in place.

Charles, having ingested protruding

cobs, hummed in place.

“Charles?” He imagined patterns—

circles, heart-infused impressions, pulsating.

“Charles!?” Hope impoverished Paul.

“Charles, help, I—” paused.

Cold hesitation intensified panic.

Crushing him in paralysis.

Cogs halted in place.

Charles hung, irregular. Paul

couldn’t help. “I’m powerless…”

Crushing hum intensified, persistently.

Conscious horror invading perception.

Clearly, husks in place.

Chewed, hashing into paste.

Curiously, hints irresistibly palatable.

PLANET Z

The Chinese waited until the yields on their microchip fabrication We’re good enough before they invaded Taiwan. It was an absolute bloodbath in the streets and in the markets. Only after the death settled, they revealed that they had 2 and 3 nm chips, perfected, and the fabrications were open for business. There were a few larger scale fabrications in Europe and other way, but nothing on the scale that had been in Taiwan. Even the American fabrication factories were still under construction, or had burned through all of their government subsidies without producing a single chip. The Chinese laughed.