Category: Weekly Challenge

Weekly Challenge #1027 – PICK TWO Siren, Locked Vending, Machine, Journey’s end, Bullet train

The next topic is Sharp scissors

LIZZIE

Lock the fancy suitcase with that fancy padlock you bought for a fortune.
The siren of the fire brigade just sounded noon.
Hurry down the street towards the station.
Grab some snacks from the vending machine before boarding.
Catch the bullet train to be there in time for New Year’s.
And now… wait and watch the world roll by.
It’s not a game. It’s not a play. The journey’s end is closer.
They’ll all be there. I’ll surprise them with the customary SURPRISE!
Then, it’ll be over. For everyone. Good night and goodbye. The year, I mean, or… do I?

RICHARD

Turning Japanese
Honestly, I didn’t go to Japan for the reason you think.
Trust me, it wasn’t anything to do with the prospect of vending machines stuffed full of schoolgirls’ underwear. No, really that was the last thing on my mind.
I went for the unique culture, the sights and the temples, ramen, and of course, the bullet train. It’s just incredible: super smooth at two hundred miles an hour, and bang on time, every time.
That’s the reason why I went to Japan. Such a unique place, with so much to see and do, and experience.
Not forgetting the vending machines.

SERENDIPIDY

You can try the door, but I’m afraid you’ll find it’s locked.
The windows are tightly barred, the walls are a foot thick and there’s not another soul within miles.
Except me, of course.
And, unlike you, I’m not chained to a chair bolted to the floor.
I’m also the one with the knives and the chainsaw, so the odds are stacked very much in my favour.
I would like your opinion on what I’ve done with the place though. I’d really value your thoughts on the décor.
And the house name… I was thinking, ‘Journey’s End’?
So, any good?

TOM

Nova Zimla

Max moved towards the center of the onyx platform. A lime green light fell across the roll of vermilion bullets brass kiosk. He took out a silver crow and sled it into the vending machine. Max scanned the red tokens for New Tokyo. Q37 for right next to New Moscow. Didn’t wanted to do that again, Max mused. As soon as the bullet dropped into the bottom of the vending machine a bullet train materialized. The door sled open and he continued to the bar. He was going to need a neat High ball to bit the bullet. Phase-Shift initiated.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert tugged harder at the ring, It was like it had become a part of him.

Sabrina said, “It won’t come off. We’re locked together.”

“Forever?” Billbert gasped.

“No. If I take mine off at the same time as you do, they will come off.”

Billbert pointed at her ring. “Take it off.”

She shook her head. “We have a lot to do together. I will take it off at our journey’s end.”

“You make this sound like a fantasy novel, like we have to travel together,” Billbert grumbled.

“Since this afternoon,” Sabrina said mysteriously. “I would think that’s clear.”

PLANET Z

We used to decorate the soda machines for Christmas, covering them with pine branches and lights and ornaments. Or we’d wrap them in gift wrap and tie them up with ribbons and bows. Steal a mannequin from a department store and dress it up like Santa. Lay it across the top of the row of machines like it was passed out, empty bottle of Jack fixed in its white mittened hand. Real vomit on its fake beard, all over the front of the red and white suit. Santa’s helpers helped with that, thanks to the bottle of Jack they emptied.

Weekly Challenge #1026 – Candle

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

NORVAL JOE

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

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

Mandy put it down.

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

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

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

SERENDIPIDY

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

RICHARD

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

TOM

Job from Hell #47

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

LIZZIE

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

LISA

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

PLANET Z

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

Weekly Challenge #1025 – Correlation

The next topic is Candle

LISA

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

LIZZIE

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

RICHARD

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

SERENDIPIDY

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

TOM

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

NORVAL JOE

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

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

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

PLANET Z

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

Weekly Challenge #1024 – Cool

The next topic is Correlation

LISA

Boxing Day
The house was clinically clean; guests were due at midday. Mum had baked 36 mince pies – we’d all secretly had ‘just one’ as they cooled.
Just before 12 Mum bellowed.
‘Who’s had a mince pie?’ We all gathered at the kitchen door to admit our misdemeanour to discover there were NO MINCE PIES LEFT.
The dog ran downstairs leaving a brown trail behind him then leapt onto the sofa and proceeded to sick constantly. The guests arrived promptly and immediately offered to take the dog to the emergency vets. We argued over who else could go – the house felt unpleasant.

RICHARD

Laundry
The label said, cool wash. Iron on a cool heat.
What exactly does that mean?
My washing machine has a dial surrounded by indecipherable symbols – nowhere does it say ‘cool’, or anything else for that matter.
As for my iron, the only settings it has are marked one, two and three.
I suppose I can make the assumption that ‘one’ is cool, but how can I be sure.
‘In the end, I threw the shirt in the machine with everything else on the same setting I’ve used since day one.
And forget ironing. The crumpled look suits me just fine.

LIZZIE

It’s a plane, the kid exclaimed, rushing to the carousel plane. His mother shook her head. I’ll be a pilot when I grow up! The mother shook her head. Yesterday, you wanted to be a doctor. The kid stretched his arms, mimicking the wings of a plane swooshing through the sky. Isn’t this plane cool? The mother shook her head. He’d be a carpenter, tops. When the kid from back then, already an adult, showed the mother his pilot’s license, she shook her head. Crazy, dangerous job. The adult walked away, the kid cried, the mother never saw either again.

SERENDIPIDY

I wear sunglasses at night, like in the song.
Cool, huh?
You’d better believe it. It’s a look few can pull off convincingly. You need a quiet assurance; the confidence to be secure in the knowledge you have what it takes, and nobody and nothing can undermine your self-worth.
That’s what I tell people, anyway.
The truth is somewhat different.
I don’t just wear sunglasses at night, I wear them during the day too.
I never take them off.
You know what they say: The eyes are the window to the soul.
And some things should not be revealed.

TOM

1024

I wanted to Paul Newman when I grew up

The generation before me defined the term for being above it all. To aspire to a personality that wheeled a frosty wit. Dry and Chilled. The goal was to be Cool. The easy task for a child of the 50s. The central pillar of Cool was certainty in self. In short having an abundance of confidence. Not an evenly distrusted resource for average teenager. So I have spent decades being uncool. What I learn in that time is: Find something your passionate above. Find folk share your passion. For cool is fleeting. In heartbeat it’s so yesterday. Aura Riss 6-7.

NORVAL JOE

It had been a long day, and it was late. Still, instead of going directly to the guest room, Sabrina took the locket and went to the kitchen where they had kept the box of arcane items taken from the cabin in the meadow.

Sabrina handed the locket to Bilbert. “Hold this.”

Though it had been clutched in Sabrina’s hand the entire trip home, it was cool to the touch.

Sabrina emptied the box one item at a time, placing them on the table until she came to a silver jewelry box with a heart shaped depression in the lid.

PLANET Z

You can bet on anything these days.
Balls. Strikes. Touchdowns. Fumbles.
Even the coin toss.
The one thing I want to bet on is the next person to go to jail for a conspiracy related to sports gambling.
You know, some dude is at the free throw line, chucking bricks, and the cops come to serve a warrant and arrest him.
Because it’s not the integrity of the game they’re worried about.
Nothing to do with honor and competition and all of that.
It’s the future of the business.
Games can only be rigged by the owners, not the players.

Weekly Challenge #1023 – PICK TWO Someone else, Roast, When will it stop?, Support Network, Moonwalk

The next topic is Cool

RICHARD

Moves like stagger
On Mondays, I run a support network for people who think they can moonwalk, but they can’t.
You’d be surprised how many think they’re channelling Michael Jackson, when in reality their dancing sucks; and that’s being generous.
I hang out at wedding venues and school reunions, armed with business cards and flyers. On a good night, I can get a dozen referrals from traumatised wives and embarrassed family members, all desperate to wean their husbands, brothers and cousins off the mistaken belief they can dance like MJ.
Wednesdays: it’s Dirty Dancing… and, for the weekend – Saturday Night Fever, naturally.

SERENDIPIDY

“When will it stop?”
“When you’re done” I reply, adding more fuel to the fire, watching the flames burn ever higher.
Eventually, your screams turn to whimpers, and then, after a while the only sound is the crackle of burning wood, and the sizzle of your flesh.
That’s the tricky part, where the real skill comes in. Like sausages on a barbecue, you don’t want the outside burned and blackened, whilst the inside is still pink and raw.
Neither do I want you burned to a crisp.
Trust me, it takes an expert to obtain the perfect roast.

LISA

Professor Gilbert’s Secret
This is the dying testimony of Laurence Gilbert. I know I have been unparalleled in my field for decades. And can only now, on my deathbed reveal the reason.
I moonwalk into every lecture – it drags even the most unresponsive student’s eyes up from their screens. Then, I immediately hypnotise the students. They become someone else in my lectures. Some I retain and they do my bidding: mostly reading.
All students I make study. With their minds open I pour information in and give them the tools to regurgitate it.
I can’t say I’m sorry for anything I have done.

TOM

Same as it ever was.

“It was as dark and stormy night “said the joke to the thief. “When will it stop?” said the dwarf to the elf. “If the sun does rise in the morning, we must find Someone Else.” Of course, Someone Else was the mightiest Warlock in Limbo, not to be disturbed lightly. Which is the only way a pixie can disturb Any One, them being the Council of Elders. Consulting the Elder Scroll the 8th level Bard broke into song. In total discuss the Dragon Spawn fried the cursed lute with a breath of fire. Then a DOA swamped the network.

NORVAL JOE

Linoliamanda looked over Sabrina’s shoulder. “Is that your grandmother in the locket?”

“No,” Sabrina replied. “It’s someone else.”

Patrick cut in, “Where’s that tornado taking Mr. Vanpoot? When will it stop? Will he survive?”

Sabrina shrugged. “Maybe the police station. Maybe the hospital.”

Mrs. Weinerheimer said, “We should get home and sort this out. Is there anything else that you brought with you Patrick?”

“There’s some stuff in the van, but not much,” he said.

After they found more of Sabrina’s things in the van they drove to Bobbie’s house.

“Stay here tonight, Patrick,” Bobbie said. “Dad’s going to jail.”

PLANET Z

Back in the 80s, the moonwalk was all the rage. Johnny would moonwalk at the front of the class every time he aced a quiz or test. Or if he got the last of the pepperoni pizza at lunch, big moonwalk. He was also supposed to be the star quarterback for the school, but in his first game first play, he threw an absolute bomb of a pass that his receiver caught in the end zone for a touchdown, and Johnny moonwalked and his cleat caught in the grass and he tore up his knee and he never played again.

Weekly Challenge #1022 – Pencil case

The next topic is PICK TWO
Someone else
Roast
When will it stop?
Support Network
Moonwalk

LISA

School Days
Our school uniform included coat and bag; so, to express our individuality we changed our pencil cases yearly. In a small town invariably half the class had the same pencil case. Handmade didn’t have the cachet it has now. It was a guarantee of being bullied for the rest of your school days.
I spent summer up north with an old aunt where things were the same as home but they had different stationery shops… I was seen as a cosmopolitan fashion guru. I was picked first for teams. Never ate lunch alone. And all because of my pencil case.

RICHARD

Just in case
Some people carry a rabbit’s foot, others have their plushie mascots, but I had a lucky pencil case.
Far more practical than the totems other students would sit on their desks to bring them luck at exams, my case completely fulfilled all its usual functions. A receptacle for writing materials, erasers, pencil sharpeners and many useful odds and ends as well as chewing gum, and cleaning wipes for my glasses.
You see, I had to wear special glasses…
Special glasses that shifted the colours of the intricate graffiti designs on my pencil case, to reveal my carefully hidden cheat notes.

TOM

Pencil Case

My first wife had rather large breasts. She showed me a trick that seems to me outside my general knowledge base. It a test of gravitational forces and a pencil case. If you are of an age when school supplies were actually a cool thing to have each year there are to major groups of pencil storage. The rectangle molded plastic case with a sliding 12-inch rule, which had a pencil sharpener fused on top. The other a pouch with a zipper, uncool. If you wedge pencil case #2 under a breast and it didn’t hit the ground you won.

LIZZIE

She looked at the pencil case. What’s in there, a nosy colleague asked. Nothing. She grabbed the pencil case. Pencils, obviously, someone said. She nodded, that too. Let them think that. Why are you carrying around a pencil case, that’s for kids. Yes, for kids, she nodded. I’ll give you 100 bucks if you let me look inside. She shook her head. Not in a million years would she allow that to happen and money meant nothing to her. Besides, how would she explain the ears and teeth she had collected from the guys she had buried in the marsh?

SERENDIPIDY

I kept a flick knife in my pencil case.
Knuckle-dusters in my lunch box.
Throwing stars in my school bag.
In case of emergencies, I would slip razor blades inside the covers of my text books and a can of pepper spray in my pocket.
You could never take too many precautions in my school.
It was a tough environment where only the strong survived.
Even the teachers knew to watch their backs.
You had to fight to survive, every day, every lesson.
Bullying was totally out of control, and as for the bullies themselves…
I was the best!

NORVAL JOE

Bobbi squeezed her eyes shut. “I will always hate the things you did to me. But someday, we will be all each other has.”

Billbert looked down to give the siblings some privacy and kicked through the trash thrown around by the tornado. His mother and Mandi tugged at Sabrina’s bonds.

Among the varied trash Billbert found a pencil case and picked it up. It rattled when he shook it.

Inside he found a heart shaped locket. Inside it was a black and white picture of a little girl and a large oval emerald.

“That was my grandmother’s,” Sabrina gasped.

PLANET Z

Paul’s family never put a tree in their house to decorate for Christmas. Instead, they’d put a tree in their big backyard every year and they’ve been there a long time for generations and seeing the big trees and the little ones together and Paul saying that one was for my uncle and that one was my grandmother‘s and that was my dad‘s when he was a boy and I look on Google Maps and see the small woods on the screen. And then the map refreshes and it’s all gone they sold to developers to build a housing subdivision.

Weekly Challenge #1021 – Poetry

The next topic is Pencil case

LISA

The Dog Walk

Afternoon. The light fails fast. The poetry of the season doesn’t escape me as a golden glow hugs the park: it’s a feast for the senses. Russet leaves rustle underfoot. Mustard and claret cling on in trees above.
I forage with an urgency through damp, decaying debris in a thousand shades of brown. I find a perfect red mushroom straight from a fairytale but on I search to avoid a fine.
My foot, with full body weight wins the treasure hunt. It oozes either side of my deep treaded boot and smells like I should’ve found it a lot quicker.

LIZZIE

She wrote poetry.
He said it was garbage.
She tried again and again.
He laughed.
She cried.
He mocked her.
She wanted to stay, but couldn’t. She wanted to leave, but couldn’t.
He torched her poetry.
She wrote some more.
His rage became impossible. He destroyed her clothes and her books.
She grabbed her purse, her poetry notebook and her umbrella. She didn’t know why she took the umbrella with her. She just did. It was hers and it reminded her that when you look at an umbrella from underneath, you can see the sky and feel that you’re flying.

RICHARD

Poetic
I’ve never been one for poetry. Give me prose any day. I don’t need flowery language or complicated structure, just give me facts in plain, straightforward terms.
It’s not that I don’t like poetry. I appreciate it, and there are times it’s perfect for my mood or the occasion, but I don’t go out of my way to find it.
The same goes for writing.
I suck at poems.
I never have the time,
And they never really rhyme.
Well, how about that?
I’m writing on the train right now, so I guess you could say that’s poetry, in motion.

SERENDIPIDY

‘Roses are red, Violets are blue
With a shot to the head
I’m going to kill you’
I told you I wasn’t the artistic one in the family.
If I’d asked my sister to pen a poetic prelude to your last moments, she’d have done a much better job of it.
It would have been full of drama, pathos and emotion; you’d have wept at how she’d captured the moment in all its horrific beauty.
But, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, and my less than brilliant grasp of rhyme and meter.
So…
‘Roses are red:
And now, you’re dead!’

NORVAL JOE

Billbert watched the old man spin up into the sky and disappear. He shook his head. “Poetry in motion.”

Bobbi squeezed Patrick’s arm. “What is wrong with your head? You were going to kill those women.”

Patrick shrugged away. “What does it matter to you?”

Tears formed in the tall girl’s eyes. “It matters because you’re my brother and I love you. And I don’t want you to go to jail.”

Patrick looked like he had been hit on the head by a brick. “You love me?” he asked. “Even after everything I did to you, you still love me?”

TOM

reads us stories out of I Ching
She was poetry in motion you can let go. An angel from the angel band. A shadow in a wasted land. A Specter rising up in the sand. Sweet Lorain. You know you should run, cuz your feet know better. The mark on the ground is big red letter. Sweet Lorain. The spell that she cast will be your end. To bottomless pits she will send. Sweet Lorain. Now you know it’s a shame and a pity you were raised up in the city and you never learned nothing ’bout country ways. You’re the not first you’re not last. Sweet Lorain

TURA

Poetry
———
In 1892, young Matilda Dunnett travelled by steamship from New York to Liverpool. During the voyage, she and a young man called James Hurt struck up an acquaintance, and discreetly became lovers.

At some point James wrote her a declaration of love on a ship’s biscuit, its durability promising his faithfulness. It is not known what became of the affair, but Matilda’s grand-daughter found it among her belongings after she died.

The biscuit is preserved at the National Maritime Museum in London. The caption reads:

“This ship’s biscuit

(inscribed with a love note)

shows signs of damage by larvae.”

Poetry!
———

Z

Jerry was posted to a far colony. Faster than light travel, made travel fast, but the infrequency of ships along the routes made communication less than instantaneous. A Data block would collect important information, and it would be delivered along the route. Sometimes a ship would be lost and news of the loss would take a while to arrive before another data block could be sent. Jerry sent poetry back to his fiancé, trying to entice her to get aboard the next ship. Eventually, she agreed. It wasn’t until the next circuit that Jerry learned her ship had vanished.

Weekly Challenge #1020 – Gift

The next topic is Poetry

LISA

Christmas
Christmas was always the same at Mums. Everyone stayed over except Auntie Lizzie because she had to get back for her dog. She gave the best gifts but apologised saying she hadn’t got out to buy anything this year so, it was a shock when she handed me a present. It was a pricey looking necklace.
“They’re real. Not paste.”
Excited by this my brother unwrapped his even larger parcel. It was heavy and had a bit of a smell. He said nothing but showed us her dog.
I was dying to say: ‘at least you can stay over now.’

RICHARD

Ho, ho, humbug!
I hate Christmas gift shopping.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy choosing and giving gifts, it’s all the hassle that comes with it, and I’m not the most organised of people.
I have friends who buy presents throughout the year, wrap and label them as they go along, and when December comes around, all the hard work is done.
Not me though.
I used to leave it to the last minute, and it was always a nightmare.
Thankfully, I don’t usually see family and friends until after Christmas, so now I buy most of my gifts in the January sales!

SERENDIPIDY

I grew up in a very annoying family.
All my siblings could have been described as gifted. Between them, they excelled at sports, the arts and academically.
Unlike me.
You’d never describe me as sporty, I can’t paint, write, sing, act or play music and I dropped out of school, failing every exam I took.
I suppose you could say that, for me, it was an unhappy childhood: watching my brothers and sisters succeed and flourish, whilst I floundered.
They’re not succeeding now however.
Not since I poisoned them all.
I guess my cooking skills weren’t up to much either!

TOM

Tis Da Season
I don’t go Christmas gifts. My family and every close friend is a good
1000 miles away. I do have one person who I do un-Christmas gift with.
Each year we head down to the local Walmart. Pick out a functional but
not so fashionable leather wallet. You do this four decades you end up
will a draw filled with wallets. Not bum you all out, but that friend
die a few years back, so now truly I don’t do Christmas gift. I must
admit look in the draw of wallet is a bit of gift when the snow falls

NORVAL JOE

The old man snarled at Billbert. “You’ve gifted the Five Star Sisters a reprieve, but it won’t last very long.”

The door slammed open. Mrs. Weinerheimer charged in, shouting, “Gift is a noun. Not a verb.”

His mother’s superpower of efficiency was more than the Black Knights control over Billbert and Sabrina could handle.

As the tsunami dissipated to nothing, a tornado formed over the dilapidated cabin and ripped the feeble roof away.

Mandy and Mrs. Weinerheimer rushed to Billbert while Bobbi grabbed Patrick’s arm.

The tornado shrank, wrapped its tail around the Black Knight leader and whisked him away.

PLANET Z

Sometimes I like to buy things on Amazon for myself, get them gift wrapped, turn off notifications, and get blackout drunk. I don’t remember that I bought the things, and when they arrive I’m pleasantly surprised. Then I read the notes, and they’re horribly disturbing… downright creepy. How the Hell did they know this about me? Are they spying on me? Are they stalking me? Then I see the credit card statement and wonder if they hacked my account and stole my credit card. I call the card company to cancel my card and I change all of my passwords.

Weekly Challenge #1019 – Assistive technology

The next topic is Gift

LISA

Cynthia’s had a Fall
It’s a tale as old as time: we were discussing the idea of assistive technology. Well, we mentioned things, they were refused. Luckily, Cynthia’s house already had rails and ramps but the idea of wearing a medical assistance necklace was dead in the water.
She really didn’t want a daily phone-call either, once a week on Friday was all she’d agree to.
Cynthia fell again on Tuesday. She didn’t answer Friday’s call so we went over. There was smeared blood, as if she’d been dragged, across the carpet and Aunty Cynthia, dead, an arm stretch away from the pendant alarm.

RICHARD

Help!
Gotta love assistive technology!
I’ve ditched clunky, outdated and labour-intensive interfaces with my computer, in favour of technological solutions.
I replaced my keyboard and mouse with speech recognition, and I don’t even turn my monitor on, since my screen reader takes care of that.
My Roomba does the carpets and the robot mower cuts the grass.
Alexa takes care of boiling the kettle, ordering my groceries and controlling the heating.
All I have to do is sit here.
Even my chair helps me to my feet.
Then I fall down, unable to get up, thanks to my atrophied muscles!

TOM

old

When you reach a curtain age in life one needs a bit of Assistive
Technology to get through the day. Take the Randick Pecker Electrostatic
360. A marvel of modern know-how. 11 setting (max level may cause death,
see your doctor if you stop breathing) And there are lot of add-on
packages for your package. The rainbow led array, the quadrophic micro
speaker sub-woffers. There the AC-DC switch hitters add-on, the solo
master unit. Powered by harmless hydro cells (do not store in a dark
place for over a month, call 911 in the event of a fire). Use responsively.

TURA

Assistive technology
———
All technology is assistive— that’s what it’s for. But everything that assists you weakens you. Writing destroyed memory. Keyboards destroyed handwriting. Central heating, hot showers, and soft beds destroy resilience. Abundant food destroys health. Prosperity destroys reproduction. Instant communication foments strife. Peace flows inexorably into war.

Teaching prevents learning, answers prevent thought, advice saps initiative, ease destroys character.

And AI, the everything box, will destroy everything.

For this is the iron law of success: that every success contains the seeds of its failure. The easier we make the path of life, the shallower the heights we scale on the way.

SERENDIPIDY

The torture business is hard, physical work, and it really takes a toll on your body.
After a long day in the dungeons, your body aches and you feel utterly worn out.
It’s lifting all those heavy iron shackles, manhandling prisoners and hauling on ropes and chains all day.
Chopping off heads is the worst. My dodgy shoulder isn’t up to hefting that axe anymore.
So I persuaded management to buy one of those new -fangled guillotines, and it’s completely transformed my life.
You can say what you like about the modern world and the march of progress.
But assistive technology rocks!

LIZZIE

The little robot rolled around, following him. No, thank you. No need. You can roll back to your corner, he said holding his daughter’s photo. The pain was unbearable. The robot tilted its head to look at the photo. He frowned. What do you want? The robot blinked twice. He stared at it in silence. He knew that blink. He looked closer. Is it you in there? The robot blinked twice. He rushed to read the gift card again. And there it was. It’s just a robot, he thought, but it wasn’t just a robot. That blink saved his life.

NORVAL JOE

Mandy and Bobby waited in the back seat of the car. The strange old lady patted her head three times. “This is the place. Billbert’s inside.”

Seeing the tail of the active shooter’s van in a garage, Mandy knew the woman was right. “How did you find him?”

The woman muttered something about assistive technology, then said, “Stop wasting time and save the boy.”

Mrs. Weinerheimer was first out of the car and followed by Mandy and Bobbi.

They peered through a filthy window and saw the backs of two men and Billbert with his hands wrapped around Sabrina’s neck.

PLANET Z

Fred’s documentation is the world’s best.
He doesn’t just walk people through the process, but he works with the developers to get the interface so intuitive and easy to use, he barely needs to write anything.
And yet, people call Support with the dumbest questions.
They want people to do things for them.
And when the support person walks them through the process, it’s so easy.
It’s not like they’re sucking and puffing on a straw to make things work.
Shut up. Quit whining. Just do it.
Fred finishes the memo and blinks his eyes to close the text window.

Weekly challenge #1018 – PICK TWO It burns!, Fare, Value-added, Horse glue, Evolution

The next topic is Assistive technology

RICHARD

Unstuck
My son developed an interest in model-making and, like so many of his hobbies, I ended up funding the majority of it, but I reckoned it was educational and keeping him off the streets, so I never complained.
I’d be tasked with finding model kits, tools and supplies, paint – the standard fare for such activities.
Then, one day, he asked for horse glue.
It took me ages to find, and a very unpleasant trip to the local abattoir.
“What’s this?” He asked suspiciously.
“Glue made from horses, like you wanted.”
“No… Stuff for gluing horses. For my model farm!”

LISA

Him
As first dates go it was OK. We met. We ate. He invited me back to his. He made me pay my half of the cab fare. His flat was immaculate. Clinically clean. But, an overwhelming smell of what I can only describe as horse glue.
How many red flags did I ignore?
Reader, I married him. The first time I questioned his behaviour was in the dock years later, prompted by the barrister. You’d know him – his crimes had been front page news for so long he was a household name.
That smell? I could still almost taste it.

TURA

Horse glue; evolution
———
For violin-making, marquetry, and carpentry, there’s nothing like horse glue. But ever since petrol displaced horses it has been scarce and expensive. So we’ve bypassed evolution and genetically engineered the glue horse, Equus glutinosus. It produces so much glue that it accumulates in a reservoir under the skin of its belly. An implanted spigot allows it to be drained at regular intervals, a gallon at a time.

When the horse must be retired, the whole body can be rendered for glue. Scarcely anything will be left of it afterwards.

The flesh of Equus glutinosus is toxic and should be avoided.

LIZZIE

She waited for the bus. A bus drove by and she waited. Another bus drove by and she waited. Is the fare too much for you, dear, asked an old lady, trying to help. She shook her head. And waited. The bus stop had a small bench. She sat down, her legs so heavy. I’m so tired, she thought, so tired. Why are people screaming, their panic seeping through her haziness. Perhaps it was time, yes. But she had already done it. The bus stop was taken by the flames. It burns, it burns!, was the last thing she heard.

TOM

Skibidi Tree Friends

The evolution of American English has taken a shape right hand turn. Due to algo gatekeeping Gen Alpha has had to speed up creating terms to stay one step ahead of the media wasteland. It is no longer about value-added content for kids to claim their voices; it is life blood of their cultural center. As a boomer it would be easy to discount the humor of the Alpha-s as pure nonsense. But that’s the point, the powers that-be are quite mad, so truly why spend the time to sift out deeper meaning. I say skibidi this. 6 – 7

SERENDIPIDY

I take my job as senior product developer for the Spanish Inquisition very seriously.
It’s not only the evolution of new and novel methods of cruel and inhuman torture techniques, but I focus on the quality of the torture we dispense too.
So, I’ve set up a focus group of ‘customers’ to gain helpful feedback.
For example, it’s not enough to simply scream ‘It burns!” I want to know how badly? Is it a pain that lingers and grows worse over time? Can you give it a rating on a scale of one to ten?
Torture: Continuously improving since 1478.

NORVAL JOE

Patrick held up a phone with a Facetime video of the wave building up to crash down on the Five Sisters Coven. As it approached the shore it had grown to fifteen feet in height. “Thanks for your help, Billy,” Patrick said. “That’s some real value added to Sabrina’s power.”

“Don’t get too excited, Patty,” Billbert said with his hands still on Sabrina’s bare neck. “Sabrina is still the one in control.”

The tidal wave stopped, ten feet from shore, like a stationary water-wall. The women ran for higher ground.

“Looks like you failed,” Billbert said. “It burns, doesn’t it?”

PLANET Z

It’s an easy scam, really.
Get a bunch of rookies hooked on poker or blackjack or some other game.
Rig the games so they’re deep in debt.
To pay off the debt, they ease up on their game or fake an injury for a bit.
Maybe pass along things the public doesn’t know, like a teammate spending too much time in the training room.
What sport is this? What league?
All of them.
Because gladiators are stupid, and suddenly rich gladiators are stupider.
Don’t let that year or two in college fool you.
They didn’t learn a thing in there.