Category: Weekly Challenge

Weekly Challenge #987 – Visceral

The next topic is PICK TWO Give it all, Empty, Churrasco, Fiendishly difficult, Click

NORVAL JOE

Billbert’s mother, her superpower being incredible efficiency, asked, “Have you spoken with her?”

He felt a conflict deep inside himself. How could he not lie to his mother and also be true to Sabrina. He couldn’t. “Yes. She said she wants to be left alone.”

Calabassa perked up. “You know where she is?”

Billbert folded his arms. “Yes. But I’m not going to tell you where.”

“Billbert,” his mother said firmly. “They have a placement for Sabrina, and she can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” Billbert snapped back. “We have plenty of room.”

“Here I am,” Sabrina said from the hallway.

TOM

shoes of the fisherman

Timmy kicked a chunk of broken marble. There was a lot of broken marble. Small fires burnt through out Rome. In the shadow of a doorway a man was going through the motion of mass to no one particular. Timmy thought this could well be the most Visceral moment of this long trip in the city. That of course was indeed a sad play on words, because the man in the doorway was Pope Visceral the V. And much like the priest is Graham Green novel had lost all but the nagging reflex of his faith. More motion that connection.

SERENDIPIDY

People think I get a visceral pleasure out of writing about gore, violence and the more unpleasant topics, and perhaps I do, but I really don’t think that’s a bad thing.
It’s just stories, after all. Right?
Well yes, and there’s no harm in that.
However, you should always bear in mind that we write about the things we know.
And I do have to undertake an awful lot of ‘research’ to ensure my stories are authentic.
I’ll be honest with you, writing about this stuff is a lot of fun.
But the real pleasure happens before I start writing!

THOMAS

VISCERAL

Benny “The Cleaver” Reynolds had been the town’s butcher for forty years. His hands, thick as hams, bore the scars of countless cuts, his apron forever stained in shades of crimson. He knew every beast from hoof to hook, could split a carcass clean with a flick of his wrist. The cold room smelled of iron and sawdust, and Benny hummed as he worked, his knife gliding through sinew like poetry. He’d seen it all—thieves sneaking in for scraps, a man hiding a body in the grinder once. Benny said nothing. He just kept cutting. Business was business.

RICHARD

— Extreme —
My brother is a bit of a thrill seeker.
He’s into extreme sports. You know the sort of thing, hang gliding, base jumping, white water kayaking. Not so much sports, as dicing with death.
He says that it’s the adrenalin and visceral sense of fear and imminent danger that drives him; I say it’s his obvious insanity.
Even so, I encourage him – it’s good to have a hobby, and as long as he’s only putting his own life at risk, that’s fine by me.
It’s not that I don’t like him.
It’s more a case that I fancy his wife!

LISA

Everyday is a School Day

“Can anyone give me a definition or put the word into a sentence?” asked teacher, Rachael, pointing at the word VISCERAL on the board.
A hand raised immediately–
“I bought a visceral jumper at the weekend!” Polly said proudly
“That blue one? It’s acrylic!” replied her friend
“Nah it’s never made of nails.”
The rest of the class were concentrating on their phones so missed the exchange. Rachael had felt for a while she needed to find a new job. it was very definitely not a visceral feeling. She got her own phone out and registered with a recruitment agency.

PLANET Z

Two men with shields over their eyes, strapped to chairs and swords strapped to their hands.
Face to face, slashing each others faces without a flinch.
Hoping their wounds scar over to show their bravery and honor.
Those who fear the blade have surgeons give them scars, agreeing with others to lie about a duel to cover their fear and shame.
If the scar is not prominent enough, they pull at the wound to deepen it.
But not through the cheek to the teeth. That is too grim a look, even for the most monstrous of the dark army’s officers.

Weekly Challenge #986 – TV in the background

The next topic is Visceral

THOMAS

The TV is always on in the Background.

The TV in the kitchen is always on, even when no one’s watching. It hums softly as Mom rolls the dice in Monopoly and Dad grumbles about losing again. My brother trades two railroads for Boardwalk while Grandma stirs her tea, shaking her head.

Between turns, we talk about the neighbors. Mrs. Parker’s new beau, Mr. Lee’s talking dog, the mystery of who keeps leaving panties on our porch.

The news anchor drones on in the background, but we barely listen. The TV is just there—like the ticking clock, the clinking dishes, and the laughter that fills our home.

LISA

An Ordinary Monday in March
It’s a day that Charlotte will never forget. The radio plays from the window sill: a story about a train derailment earlier. She wafts a towel over the toaster trying to stop the smoke alarm before it wakes the baby.
The baby wakes as her phone rings
“Hello. Mrs Biveh?”
There’s a jangle of a children’s programme from the TV in the background as a toddler clutches her leg. The smoke thickens.
“But Mummmmeeeee I neeeed to weeeeee”
“Hello? I’m PC Chalock…”
Charlotte turns the radio off, it silences the room but even in the quiet she struggles to comprehend.

RICHARD

— Scoreplay —

“Will you please turn that thing off?”
Jake frowned, “Do I have to? I like the TV in the background, ever since Patricia left me it’s been lonely around here. I like to have it on for the company.”
Now it was Anna’s turn to frown.
“But you’ve got company right now… Me! And if there’s one thing I hate, it’s trying to have sex while you’re distracted by the football!”
Jake pouted, peering over Anna’s shoulder to watch the match.
“You never told me. Why did she leave you, anyway?”
“She hated me watching TV during sex.” Jake replied.

SERENDIPIDY

You’ve got to play it smart when it comes to the cops.
They listen for clues when you make a call. Things like train sounds and church bells, or aircraft passing overhead; clues that can give away your location and lead them straight to you.
So I always put on the TV in the background, loud enough to mask out other noises.
Perhaps you might think that I’m being paranoid, but the fact is, they haven’t caught me yet.
And, if I have anything to do with it, they never will.
Not as long as I own a television, anyhow!

NORVAL JOE

After giving Sabrina enough time to get upstairs, Billbert snuck from the bathroom and listened by the kitchen to see what the two women were talking about. Unfortunately, the TV in the background covered whatever conversation they were having. He would have to step in, unprepared.

“Hi, Mom. What’s up?” he asked.

“This is Ms. Calabassa. She’s with Child Protective Services. She has a family to place Sabrina with.”

“That’s right,” she smiled at him humorlessly. “Have you seen her?”

“Nope,” Billbert said. “Not since before school. She had a meeting with a counselor, or something. Haven’t seen her since.”

TOM

Full of silence

I spoke to him daily. Long conversation on topics vast and deep. No matter the place or surrounding the air was always charged with interest. Wise witty and wondrous. Without a moment of lesser pretense. I am richer for his words, they have lingered long, yet few remain. So, I leave TV in the background on. Dull the day and go about the 1000 silence tasks that need no active thought. A hear an actor deliver his line. He says “Just do me one last favour Sherlock… One more miracle. Don’t. Be… Dead.” My god, did he love Conan Doyle.

867 irresistible

Timmy wasn’t so much irresistible as unrresistible. If you were in his presence, you could easily be drawn is to whatever madcap quest he was on, but at the same time if you as so much turn your head the illusion faded away. This is how Frank ended up 4th and Drucker waiting for the Electrician Or Someone Like Him. When a gentleman of short stature appeared to Frank’s right Timmy whispered “Don’t Crush That Dwarf, Hand Me the Pliers!” To this the Dwarf replied “How Can You Be In Two Places At Once When You’re Not Anywhere At All?”

868 The Homeric Hymn to Disney

Of the mouse giver we sing. He with the wry smile. He who can sell ice cube to an Eskimo. In Anaheim rich in gold. Of the duck giver we sing. He with Chicago roots. He who built the castle. In Anaheim rich in gold. Of the hidden mickeys giver, we sing. He with pencil drew. He who made the Mermaid’s queue. In Anaheim rich in gold. Of the Huey, Dewey, and Louie giver, we sing. He with child’s wisdom. He who made magic kingdoms. In Anaheim rich in gold. We sing of thee MOUSE. In Anaheim rich in gold.

PLANET Z

When I play games, I like to use my big screen TV as the monitor. It has a really fast refresh rate and the sound that comes out of the sound bar is incredible. And it’s like being in the game without having to put some goofy bulky headset on. The problem is I like to have the TV going in the background while I play games, so either I need to get a second TV to roll into the room or I stream stuff on my computer in another window through a second monitor off of the video card.

Weekly Challenge #985 – Ashlar

The next topic is TV in the background

THOMAS

ASHLAR

The Lithuanian masons of Novakouskis & Sons were unmatched in their craft, their ashlar walls stood like timeless monuments. Their office, a short walk from Ford Funeral Home, saw frequent visits from the solemn Mr. Ford. One evening, he arrived at Novak’s with an unusual request—discreet disposal of a hundred buckets of unclaimed cremains. Mr. Novakouskis nodded.

When they built the grand entrance to the Ford Home, the fine dust swirled into the concrete mix. The wall stood firm, whispering secrets only the wind could hear. “Solid work,” Ford mused, running a hand over the stone. “Built to last,” Novakouskis agreed.

RICHARD

— Ashlar —
So, I’ve been asked to write a short piece about ashlar.
Now, please excuse my ignorance, but what the heck is ashlar?
Is it some obscure historical figure that somehow got skipped whilst I was in school? Or perhaps it’s one of those lost languages that linguists get so excited about?
For all I know, it’s an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
I really don’t have a clue, and no, I’m not going to Google it – somebody said that was cheating!
Maybe I’ll just moan about my complete ignorance on the topic, and write about that instead?

SERENDIPIDY

They called him Ashlar the Brave.
A brute of a man with bulging muscles; fearless in battle and always ready to fight.
The villagers revered him, relying on him for protection against all assailants. Which mostly worked out well.
Until he met me.
He bellowed and stomped, waved his sword around and then challenged me to fight.
“Certainly.” I replied. “But, would you mind turning your back while I get changed?”
You can probably figure out what happened next.
All brawn… No brain!
They still speak of him in stories and ballads, only now he’s known as Ashlar the Stupid.

TOM

During my last semester in college, I did major research on one of the oldest monumental structures in Western Civilization. Mycenae: rich in gold; as Homer use to say. My focus was on the Lion Gate, but just outside this portal were the Beehive domes. Cobbled structures with serious dressing stonework. This form of stonework in found throughout the ancient world from India to Peru. Ashlar even found its way to the Chicago Southern Neighborhoods of my aunt and grandmother. It was a bit kiddish, but wasn’t everything in a middleclass neighborhood. Once saw a doghouse with ashlar stone work.

865

And then

I wish I could tell you what happened next . . . but that was the moment the light went out. I could wax on about the search for flashlight light and candles, but that would not help explain the body in the middle of the waiting room. How it got there? Who it was? Why it had a large red bow around its head? Further, no one in the office seems to give it much notice. I deftly stepped over he or she. For all I know she or he is still waiting in the waiting room. So, it goes.

866

You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)

Benny had a huge collection of records. 60 years of vinyl in mint condition. The lion share of these were from the year 1969. A banner year for all kinds recording artist. R/B Pop, Rock, Folk, Jazz, even Classical. Miles Davis – Cick Corea – Is Joe Cocker – With a Little Help from My Friends B.J. Thomas – Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head Led Zeppelin – Led Zeppelin Cream – Goodbye Poco – Pickin’ Up the Pieces Crosby, Stills & Nash – Crosby, Stills & Nash Creation Mass Joseph Haydn Triple Concerto Ludwig Van Beethoven

NORVAL JOE

“Right,” Billbert said and ran to the ashlar steps that had replaced the original wooden planks of the front porch and slipped inside.

His mother was speaking with someone in the family room. He had to get into the kitchen without being seen. He would look too suspicious if he peeked around the corner to see if they were looking.

He strolled past, headed for the back door.

“Billbert. Is that you?” his mother called.

“Yeah, Mom. Just going to the bathroom,” Billbert said.

He unlocked the back door, hopped into the bathroom, and waited for Sabrina to tiptoe past.

PLANET Z

I keep a bird feeder in the back yard.
There’s a baffle on the pole to keep squirrels out of it.
They rummage through the seeds and other stuff that falls from the feeder.
I keep a container in the screened-in patio to refill the feeder.
Well, a squirrel got into the screen, ate some spilled seeds, and broken into the container to eat some more.
My cat chased the squirrel around for a bit.
The containers are in the garage now, and I’ve duct-taped the screen until I can pop it back into place.
The cat’s asleep, as usual.

Weekly Challenge #984 – Caught in time

The next topic is Ashlar

THOMAS

Caught In Time

Every Tuesday, Miriam brought my Walmart groceries, her bonnet crisp, her voice soft. This week, she sneezed twice as she handed me my bags. I nodded, uneasy. By Thursday, my throat burned. By Friday, fever.

I lay in bed, certain I’d caught something from her—something plain, Mennonite, unvaccinated. The irony struck me: I, a man of modern medicine, felled by a woman still baking bread in a wood stove.

I’d called Walmart to report it. Then came regret. Had I damned her? Had I let fear twist my judgment? Caught in time, but too late to take back. Damn!

RICHARD

— Flashback —
It was unexpected.
I almost missed it amongst the paperwork during the clearout.
The photograph fluttered to the ground, freed from the pile of old newspapers and random leaflets that had accumulated over who knows how many years.
I retrieved it and flipped it over, and suddenly realised what I was holding.
A precious moment, from so long ago, caught in time by the camera’s lens and kept for posterity. Not just a picture, but a cherished memory.
So long forgotten, and I’d almost thrown it away.
Now it sits in pride of place, in a frame on my desk.

SERENDIPIDY

The question is not so much what did I do, but whether it was caught in time?
You know I developed the virus.
You are well aware by now that I released it into the wild.
And you certainly understand the consequences of what I’ve done.
But it’s going to take time to develop an antidote.
Research and development are costly, complex, and are unable to come up with a solution overnight.
But, overnight may well be the only time you have.
And even then, it may be too late.
I know the answer, of course.
But, I’m not telling!

TOM

984

TimeY WyMe

Not easy being a Time Lord. Hard enough to catch a falling anvil. Try catching the most important moment in a person’s life. Knowing the exact place to be and just the right level of interaction. Not easy my friend, sometime it goes way-way south and you spend eons backtracking in the Time Loop to set things right. Take this here butterfly, looks like a normal butterfly, yes. Well, no this butterfly is actually every butterfly or more to the point “butterfly is an illusion.” A single soul caught in time. Trend lightly in her presence less the unraveling begins.

861

Remote

In the olden day there were only seven channels available on the Tv set. To watch these Tv stations one had to arrange a set of “Rabbit Ears” into a reasonable representation of modern art a top your set next to the ceramic Leppard. Wish to bring joy to your grandparents? Use “Rabbit Ears” in a complete sentence. Proper verb optional. To change stations, one had to turn a dial, but at some point, the remote control was created, but the signal was sent by banging two pieces of metal together. Think a single note wind chime in your hand.

862

Rubegoldbergian

I love games as a child. Drove my parents crazy to get the next kid centric boardgame. Hands down the must kinetic game was Mouse Trap. Not much on plot, high on execution. One would think the limited number of moves would bring on a sense of boredom. Nope fun every time. Little did I figure out at the time this would prepare me for the endless twisted path the modern world cast in my path. I only wish that each of life’s machination was a brightly colored piece of plastic that could be neatly disassemble back in the box.

NORVAL JOE

On his way home from school, Billbert stopped by the hospital to see how Mr. Withybottom was doing. The nurse told him Linoliamanda and her mother had just left with their driver, but he might find them in the parking lot if he caught them in time. Unfortunately, they were already gone. Disappointed, Billbert continued home.

As he passed his fence, he heard Sabrina whisper from his back yard. “Billbert. Don’t look at me, so that if anyone asks, you can say you haven’t seen me. Just go unlock the back door so I can sneak up to my room.”

PLANET Z

Nobody remembers the actress Sapphire Frankel.
Her raspy Southern drawl ensured an end to her career in the talkies era.
All of her films were on nitrate stock, none were preserved.
The studio records building burned up in a warehouse fire in the fifties.
Promotional posters all lost to the dustbin, not a single one in the hands of a collector.
She had an aversion to merchandising, never wrote a memoir.
No children, no family.
No affairs with Hollywood legends, not even Tallulah Bankhead or Marlene Dietrich.
Not even a gravesite, her ashes scattered by a studio secretary long ago.

Weekly Challenge 983 – PICK TWO Aviator Circuit Twice Chamber Squirrel

The next topic is Caught in time

LIZZIE

What is that?
A map.
Of what?
No idea.
North Pole?
No.
South Pole?
No.
Then what?
No idea.
Speak louder, my hearing aid is not charged.
NO IDEA.
No need to shout.
You told me… Ok, never mind.
So, it’s not the North Pole or the South Pole.
Nope.
What is it then?
I don’t know, I forgot to bring my glasses.
Aviator’s map?
No.
Well, when I look at it this way, it kind of looks like a squirrel.
A what?
A squirrel. Just squint and you’ll see.
Short circuit alert. Later.
It’s a squirrel, I tell ya!

RICHARD

— Chocks Away! —
Three solo circuits around the airfield and you’re an aviator, according to our instructor. The rest of the lads, like myself, had their doubts. Most of us had never even sat in a cockpit until a week ago, and now here we were, flying!
After a fashion, anyway, but we weren’t learning to be stylish. As long as we could get up into the air, stay in the air, and read a map we were good to go.
Now, it was just a matter of waiting.
For the sirens, scrambling us to take flight, and take on the enemy planes.

SERENDIPIDY

I won’t tell you twice.
Tell me what you know, or it’s the torture chamber for you!
And you know what happens there, don’t you?
Little boys like you don’t last very long on the rack, and it’s surprising how talkative you become once I start to tighten the thumbscrews.
So you should probably reconsider your attitude.
Today’s test is on your multiplication tables, so tell me what you know and prove that you’ve been practicing, and doing the homework you were set.
Or, I very much regret, that the next lesson you’ll be learning will be very painful indeed.

NORVAL JOE

As if he might see Sabrina outside, Billbert gazed out the window into the courtyard where students locked their bicycles. Sabrina wasn’t there, but Bobbi was, wearing aviator glasses and walking a circuit around the bikes. He couldn’t see her eyes behind the mirror-like lenses, but Billbert was sure Bobbi was looking for him.

If he could find her at lunch, he would ask her what her problem was. Was she a spy or running interference for her brother, the bully?

Though he searched at break and lunch, he saw neither Bobbi, nor Sabrina, for the rest of the day.

TOM

In honorable company

From his angle he could clearly see twice the number of chambers were loaded. “Say my good-fellow your second seem to have chambered a second.” The duke hefted the pistol level to his hip. “Why I do believe you are correct.” “I will wait till corrections are in order.” The duke just smiled and raised the gun higher. “Not very sporting old man.” “Rank has its perks.” “So does being raised on the streets of London.” If he had been twice the gentleman as the duke all would have ended with biting words instead of business end of a dirk.

TURA

Chamber; squirrel
———
My job at the research institute is putting the selection into selective breeding.

The slug loaded into the first chamber smacks into the branch the squirrel is hiding behind, panicking it into motion. The shot pattern from the second brings it down.

The squirrels eventually got smart enough to just freeze onto the branch. At first, I could sidle around for a clear shot, but now they’re smart enough to not panic, and keep hidden. I don’t let up though.

After making intelligent squirrels, we’ll try bigger animals: wolves, bears. Humans need more competition these days, to keep them sharp.

PLANET Z

When you load a squirrel gun, be sure to load a squirrel in every chamber.
Load it right, so it comes out head first.
You don’t want to point it at a guy, pull the trigger, and come up empty.
And never point a squirrel gun at anyone unless you intend to pull the trigger.
Otherwise, you’ll get a reputation for giving empty threats.
Hold that squirrel gun like you mean it.
No backing down now.
And don’t stuff it down your pants like some kid.
You don’t want that thing going off and shooting a squirrel in your pants.

Weekly Challenge #982 – Taradiddle

The next topic is PICK TWO Aviator, Circuit, Twice, Chamber, Squirrel

TOM

Really Old Stuff

Of the epoch of earth history, no age in more disputed then the Moretaish. Few fossils recorder have been found, say for the long legged Taradiddle. And even the Taradiddle comes with it share of mystery. We are not sure if she was a mammal or a proto reptile. It appears they travel in moderate herds, but often broke off into small family units. Oddly they might be the first animal to bury their dead. Vast Taradiddle gravesite are found in central Europe. Currently the University of London has an ongoing dig in Turkey. Summer internships are available through Ensco.

RICHARD

— The Ballad of Tara and Jake —
I once knew a girl named Tara Diddle
She played in a band on the fiddle
Off to one side, never middle
So she could nip out quickly
If she needed to piddle
I knew a guy by the name of Jake
He was in a band: his music was fake
He wasn’t plugged in, and the sound was on tape
Until the crowd found out
And threw him in a lake
Tara and Jake got married one day
I was invited, the organ to play
No Wedding March, I’m sorry to say
But their greatest hits, to my dismay!

LIZZIE

It was official. He left her. How would she face the family? The friends? The people at the tennis club? So, she told everyone that he would be away on business…. for a year. That should be enough to find someone and not look like a total loser. And then she got his text: I loved you at your darkest. She was confused. Darkest? She always wore white because of that positive energy crap. And if he meant her insecurities, she had none. Note to self: buy horrid new tennis skirt model that everyone was now wearing. At your darkest…

SERENDIPIDY

Taradiddle Forest may have an amusing name, but the reality is that it’s no laughing matter.
People fear to venture into its depths and speak in hushed tones of the rumours that surround it.
There is talk of demons, and that the trees whisper fearful secrets as their leaves rustle in the wind. Stray from the pathway they say, and you will never find your way home: condemned to wander ever deeper into the darkness, never to return again.
So, nobody ever ventures into the forest.
Except me.
I live there.
It’s really peaceful, and it keeps unwelcome visitors away.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert and Bobbi stared at each other for an embarrassingly long moment, as if each expected the other to say something profound. Instead, they simultaneously turned away and headed to their classes.

Billbert found his seat in English as the teacher wrote a long word on the white board.

She smiled. “You each have a dictionary on your desk. Without using your phones, look up the word, Taradiddle, and use it in a complete and coherent sentence.

Halfway through the letter ‘R’, it hit him. Sabrina was usually in every one of his classes and she wasn’t at her desk.

PLANET Z

They built a Walmart a few years ago, and all the small specialty stores closed one by one. A few holdouts remain along the main road, and they’re pretty convenient for walking in and picking something up. There’s a specialty grocery that has homemade stuff, as opposed to the stuff in the big store. A few coffee houses, a few chain stores. When one location closes in the strip mall, it takes a while for something else to take place. There’s a new tea house opening up soon. Although I prefer sipping tea on my own patio when it rains.

Weekly Challenge #981 – Comment

The next topic is Taradiddle

RICHARD

— Like, subscribe, comment —
Like, subscribe, comment… the mantra of the internet.
But, what if I don’t like, don’t wish to subscribe and have nothing at all to say?
Should I leave a comment anyway, explaining that I’ve no comment to add?
Therein lies the paradox -if I really don’t like it, then I really should say so. If I don’t, then my protests will remain unheard, but if I leave a comment -even a negative one- it’ll just boost the algorithm. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.
So, what do you think I should do?
Please, just leave a comment below!

LIZZIE

He wondered what that was. A pseudo kebab featuring the most unusual looking food? Upon inquiring about what exactly was being cooked, he realized that some strange items had indeed been stabbed and were merrily burning away. As far as he could see (no pun intended), there were eyes mixed with a few fingers and something that resembled a dragon wing, that is if there were dragons. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but he was hungry and he could just close his eyes. He did. Let’s just say the following week was not the easiest week.

SERENDIPIDY

I’m on a drive to improve customer service.
I’ve never been a fan of ‘the customer is always right’ philosophy, but I like to keep my sponsors happy. A contented customer equals repeat business, and that has to be a good thing.
So, I’ve introduced customer comment cards -you know, the ones with smiley faces- to provide feedback on my service.
And, I’m pleased to say, that it’s all been very positive.
So, I’m extending the scheme to my other ‘stakeholders’, and now, I always leave a comment card with the corpse.
Unfortunately, the cops never fill the things in.

TOM

Once upon a time

Imagine if fairy-tales had a comment option during a bedtime story? Well actually they do. Peppered with requests for water and repeated trips to the toilet. The more precocious the young-N the more complex the comment or in the case of the uber precocious a running commentary. Mix in the vitriolic orbit of the internet which has seeped into the dearest of infants we have a problem, Houston. Take Goldilocks, Tim’s comment: deep imperialistic overtones. And Sally’s comment on Little Red Riding Hood in a post QAon landscape. What ever happen to: and they all lived happily ever after? Whatever.

NORVAL JOE

The red haired girl charged forward and pushed the bully in the middle of the back. “Hey Meat Head. Your parole officer is looking for you.”

When he turned to face her, Billbert noticed she was as tall as the brute. He sneered at her. “Shut up, Bobbi. We don’t need comments from the peanut gallery.”

Bobbi smiled. “I’ll tell mom you’re bullying again.”

Billbert saw the family resemblance, then; broad shoulders, sturdy build, red hair, and freckles; though Bobbi was much prettier.

“Patrick Yaan. Please come to the principal’s office,” came over the intercom.

Bobbi waved her brother goodbye.

PLANET Z

Miller was warned early in his influencer career never to read the comment section.
Hire someone to do that for you, said his mentor. Let them deal with the public while you just do what you do.
Every now and then, Miller’s assistant would send an email with a few comments worth responding to on the channel.
As artificial intelligence advanced, Miller handed the comment section to a bot.
And he crafted an avatar to read his writing on the channel.
As long as he kept writing, that is. He gave that up when he found a decent writing bot.

Weekly Challenge #980 – Teach

The next topic is COMMENT

NORVAL JOE

Billbert wandered toward his English class wondering who the red-haired girl might be, and why she would be spying on him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her before, but she was clearly a student at the school.

Behind him, someone said, “I should teach you a lesson.”

Billbert wondered who they might be talking to when another someone grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around, and snarled, “Are you ignoring me?”

The bully who had harassed him before was flanked by his two goons.

Not far behind them, a girl with red hair and freckles watched, obviously interested.

RICHARD

— Hooked! —
Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day.
Teach a man to fish, and he’ll disappear every weekend, come rain or shine, to sit on river banks and neglect his family and responsibilities.
When he’s not actually fishing, he’ll be spending his time in bars and pubs, bragging about the size of his catches, and boring anyone who cares to listen about ‘the one that got away’.
Tasks at home will be left incomplete, the wife and kids left to fend for themselves, he’s never there when he’s needed.
Please, never teach a man to fish.

SERENDIPIDY

I always wanted to teach.
Whilst my contemporaries wanted to be nurses and vets, I’d already set my sights on becoming a teacher, and so, that’s what I became.
Kids are great. Those young minds: so malleable and enquiring. Like sponges ready to soak up knowledge and concepts.
Perfect receptacles for receiving my special indoctrination.
Thousands of them passed through my hands, my mini-acolytes and disciples, all of them being primed and made ready for the Day of Reckoning.
And it’s coming soon.
So, you’d better watch your children, because, come the hour…
They’ll be coming to get you!

LIZZIE

She would always hold a book and ask the kids to “read” from it. On each page, nothing but a few smudges and a handful of lost letters. The kids would then come up with a story. She would write it down on the blackboard, making everyone cringe and giggle when the chalk squeaked. The story would be copied to a notebook which would find its way onto a bookshelf. The next day, the same old smudges, the same old lost letters would inspire a new story. She hoped the kids would remember this for the rest of their lives.

LISA

Working Late
Ambulance Staff, Nurses and Doctors bustled around the bed. The surgeon was on call. Her Husband, whilst working late, had somehow had a car accident. She watched the monitors, the staff fuss around him, someone was saying they couldn’t save his leg
And then another victim of the RTA arrived on a trolley: his passenger.
Unrecognisable beneath the blood. But blonde.
Blonde, like the hair she’d found in their bed; she’d wanted to teach him a lesson he’d never forget but thought maybe he’d already learnt something tonight and left him and his mistresses to sort things out for themselves.

TOM

Luck of the Irish

My great grandfather came from Cork. He was from a long line of doctors stretching back into vailed time. He was not interested in the healing ways; he was into making money. No better place to make your way in the world was Chicago in the 1800s. Did very well for himself. That’s until he and a bunch of his fellow traders on the mercantile exchange tried to corner the wheat market. They came damn close, but no banana. Which try I’m not famously rich and do not prowl the hall of the powerful and connected. Better off for it.

A Calling.

I thought I had a calling in my youth. The choice in my faith was Dominicans, Franciscans, Jesuits, Benedictines, Carmelites, Salesians, Cistercians, Trappists. In the 70s all the orders were happily open to bring you into their flock. I chose the Augustinians because I thought my calling was to teach. The Tolentine Seminary was two miles from my home. Augustinian’s priests said mass at my local church. I took the application tests down the street at St. Rita’s. In a tiny clerical error, I ended up not attending minor seminary. I never became a priest, but did become a teacher.

PLANET Z

Those who can’t do teach, and you would think Mr. Johnson the shop teacher’s missing fingers and eyepatch would prove it.
But the guy used to be a zookeeper, and he had a nasty habit of doing things with the animals that you’ll never find in the brochures, and a rather feisty and proud wolverine let the guy know that no means no.
Some say that he’s also got a bad habit with the cheerleaders, and one bit off his fingers and poked out his eye, but as long as he keeps his hands on the bandsaw, I’m okay, really.

Weekly Challenge #979 – Cork

The next topic is Teach

If I overlooked your story for this week, just send it to me with an admonishment and I will get it up on the feed in its own exclusive post.

LIZZIE

“I don’t want to know what you do with those humans. All I know is that when you come back, you can hardly function. You keep yelling Die! Die! Die! and you want to have a plant-based diet for weeks. And there’s no point in coming up with excuses. It was the trip. It was the pollution, it was the weather. There’s always something. This time, you had a drawing of a blond. A blond! So, I want a divorce.”
“A divorce?! Have you been reading the books I brought back with me again? We don’t even have marriages here!”

RICHARD

— A Little Less Conversation —
“Put a cork in it, will you?”
Jeff looked at me, a little shocked.
“Dude, I’m just expressing an opinion.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been expressing the same opinion for the last ten minutes, and I haven’t had a look in! You’re aware that a conversation is a two-way activity, right?”
He rolled his eyes, then gestured for me to contribute to the conversation.
After some thought, carefully considering all the nonsense that he’d been spouting, I came to a conclusion.
“OK”, I said.
“What? Is that seriously all you have to say?” he demanded.
I nodded my head.
“Yep.”

SERENDIPIDY

The products I use are all planet-friendly, plant-based and vegan.
It’s not that I particularly care about the environment, but when it comes to marketing, they really bring in the customers.
Just adding the word ‘recyclable’ to my beauty products can boost sales by fifty percent, and – better still – I can double the price and they’ll still fly off the shelves.
They will of course, still kill you, eventually.
They’re stuffed full of carcinogens, poison and chemicals, even though they’re naturally-sourced.
I can’t put all that on the packaging though, despite being true.
And business is booming!

NORVAL JOE

When the counselor dragged Sabrina away Billbert wandered on to class. Passing a display window by the admin office he saw a number of new photos pinned onto a cork board. There were more than 100 pictures from sporting events, club meetings, and other student functions on the school grounds. He found two pictures of him with Linoliamanda and one with Sabrina.

In each of the pictures there was also a girl, clearly watching them, or maybe just him. He’d never seen her before. She had dark red hair and more freckles than anyone on the Pacific Coast should have.

PLANET Z

Tracking cases is really important for my job
Some people track their cases with a whiteboard, writing new cases on the board and adding notes for status updates.
Others track them online with fancy tracking tools, linking notes and sharing them and running reports.
I use a corkboard with post-it notes, moving new cases from the top to the bottom and adding flags and bubbles to them with additional notes.
And yet, I still miss a few publishing windows or updates.
Just like I did with my white board and online tracker.
But at least the cork board looks cool.

Weekly Challenge #978 – Postal Bomb

The next topic is Cork

RICHARD

— Gone Postal —
It was effectively a postal bomb.
When I opened the letter that dropped through my letter box that morning, I suppose you could say its contents caused me life-changing injuries.
Everything I thought I knew and depended upon was blown to pieces in that moment, trust was destroyed and the shrapnel and fallout from that letter continues to cause me pain and suffering even today.
They say that the pen is mightier than the sword. Never was a truer word spoken.
I burned the letter and cast its ashes into the wind.
But the damage had already been done.

TOM

Fowl play.

Did you know you can send live baby chicks in the post? Yup. CO22 Perishables. C022 describes the normal transit time standards for mailing perishable goods, including live animals, furs, plants, and non-mailable plant pests. Live day-old chickens, ducks, and geese acceptable in the mail only if: The box is properly ventilated, of proper construction and strength to bear safe transmission in the mail, and not stacked more than 10 units high. There was nothing stated about how many chicks can go in said box. I bet you didn’t know closely packed chicks tend to explode. Thus, a Postal bomb.

LIZZIE

Buy the explosives. Don’t tell anyone.
Buy the explosives online. Don’t tell anyone.
Buy the explosives on the dark web. Don’t tell…
OK, how do I get on the dark web?
I could ask that crazy guy who smokes pot all day. No, better not. Perhaps that other one who buys bread on Wednesdays, the one who only wears black. No… The neighbor down the street? Oh, no, not that one, his brother is a cop. Abort, abort. Bad, bad idea.
This is not going well. Think.
OK, easy steps.
Buy envelope. Don’t tell anyone. Avoid Wednesdays, just in case.

SERENDIPIDY

It may be old-fashioned, but it’s simple, precise, effective and – with careful planning – untraceable.
It’s not like it used to be. With modern explosives and techniques, there’s no giveaways, like greasy marks on the packaging or suspect whiffs of almond.
Plus, it’s sort of environmentally friendly! I make mine exclusively using recycled Amazon boxes, and therein lies the key to my success.
We rarely question when an Amazon box is left on our doorstep, it’s probably something we ordered and forgot about.
Or maybe, we’ve struck it lucky, and received something intended for someone else?
Let’s open it now!

LISA

A Bad Day
I’d woken late, couldn’t find my keys, my hair looked crap… you know the days, right? I left the house in a temper and then there was a queue at the Post Office. It snaked around the shop and wasn’t just out the door, it was down the road. I joined it, cursing everyone in front of me before realising I had to go or risk being REALLY late for work.
I got to work and read a news alert on my phone. A bomb, possibly destined for elsewhere, had exploded early.
Nobody in the Post Office made it out.

NORVAL JOE

When they got to school there were papers everywhere like a postal bomb had gone off in the admin building. Teachers and students hurried around cleaning up the mess. Billbert joined in helping as Sabrina stood back and watched.

“What happened?” Billbert asked a teacher.

The school counselor said, “A freak windstorm blew through just as we were unloading a delivery of paper.”

Billbert turned to Sabrina. “Was that you?”

She gave him an embarrassed smile and shrugged.

Then, the counselor saw Sabrina. “Miss Hexaohos. It’s good to see you’re back. I have someone who wants to speak with you.”

PLANET Z

My phone alerts me when Amazon delivers a package, and I rush out to get it before the local porch pirates come around.
The rare times I can’t, three cameras capture the damn pirate and their license plate.
Every now and then, I’ll leave a box out there with a glitter bomb in it.
When the pirate opens the box, they’ll get blasted with skunk spray and glitter and glue.
I thought about a real bomb, but one day I mistook one of my own glitter bombs for a real package.
It took five showers to wash it all off.