Category: Weekly Challenge

Weekly Challenge #917 – Bread

The next topic is PICK TWO Brand awareness, Lot, Random, Envision, Dozen, Secretary

LIZZIE

“Bread crumbs, I need bread crumbs,” thought the restless crow. He wasn’t hungry. He just wanted bread crumbs. He read a story about dropping bread crumbs to leave a trail. He wanted to leave a trail! People would trickle out of the forest into the open field and marvel at his beauty! But he found no bread crumbs. He did consider resorting to his collection of glass eyes, but it was becoming more and more difficult to steal them from grumpy Old Maggie. So, he just sat on his scarecrow and waited. And he waited for a very long time!

RICHARD

All natural ingredients

Times have been tough since the Great War, but we survivors are tougher still.

We manage to get by on the bare essentials, and where even the bare essentials are lacking, we improvise.

Take our bread, for example: Flour is hard to come by, so we substitute sawdust instead. It makes for an interesting texture, but the flavour’s not too bad.

Mind you, if it wasn’t for the bread we’d starve.

That’s our diet: Bread and water.

Except the water is polluted, and the rain is far too acid to drink.

I won’t tell you what we substitute for water!

SERENDIPIDY

Smells can be so evocative.

Some may enthuse about the aroma of freshly baked bread, the fragrance of newly mown grass or the perfume of night scented stock on a warm spring evening.

Homely, comforting smells.

Not for me though. My tastes are very different.

In fact, those smells make me want to vomit.

Give me instead, the honest, ferrous tang of freshly spilled blood, the sweet smells of death and decay. Better than any bouquet of flowers or the most expensive of perfumes.

And above all, the dank, earthy aroma of the grave.

The smell of home, sweet home.

LISA

A Despondent Incident Room

Another day and another late afternoon briefing; there’s another three photos up on the board. It looks like our man’s working a lot harder than we are. He’s giving us nothing, and we’re working right round the clock.

I’ve not had a meal at home for weeks now. Mum’s doing me double sandwiches.

I used to eat at my desk but I can’t eat with them watching. It doesn’t feel right. They’re all around my age: I think all the women feel the same: it could be me up there. The bread from the uneaten sandwich hardens on my desk.

TOM

Pore more Sugar on It

Going Meta-Meta tonight. My personal rule for writing is: the first thing that lands in my head it the central theme of the story. It can produce some pretty weird stuff. Take tonight’s topic: bread. Before I could take a stroll down memory lane of my years working in a Bakery. I was the guy who choose how many loafs of vegetable herb we were delivering to San Fransisco. But No, what popped in my brain pan was Bread the band. And I use that term generously. If you took rock and roll and dipped in sugar Bread would come out.

NORVAL JOE

Linoliumanda continued to ignore her father’s requests to get into the car until he was clearly ready to blow his top. Red faced, he got out of the car and stomped his size fourteen wingtips toward her.
Just then, a rusty, late 50’s, Chevrolet Biscayne, huffed and rumbled to a stop next to them. A gray-haired woman in a bright orange mumu under a olive rain poncho climbed out, carrying a small brown loaf of bread.
Mr. Withybottom’s jaw dropped. “Buhmilda. What are you doing here?”
The woman smiled at Mr. Withybottom. “I could as you the same, Cousin Charlie.”

PLANET Z

Tonya went to school and opened a bakery.
Hired a few of her neighbors and friends, worked long hours.
Everybody got paid well and got great benefits.
She even covered child care, which for single mothers, is everything.
Then the riots came.
Her bakery was broken into and burned to the ground.
The security company kept the video off-site, so she watched as one of those friends used her keys to open the security grate to get inside.
And set the fire that consumed her business.
All her hard work. All she did for others.
Years of sacrifice.
For nothing.

Weekly Challenge #916 – Stolen

The next topic is Bread

LIZZIE

“Nothing but a crappy painting. A bunch of odd flowers on a dark blue background,” she said. The neighbor advised her to have an expert look at it. “Preposterous!” She knew her art. So, she tossed it in the dumpster. When it was dark, the neighbor grabbed it. He wasn’t stealing it! He had it appraised and… it was worth a million bucks! He bought a new house and a new car and told everyone he had won the lottery, just in case. Oh, and he still drives by the old house to check the neighborhood dumpster for crappy artwork.

RICHARD

Stolen!

I’ve been a victim of identity theft.

Some lowlife criminal is pretending to be me. They go through my trash at night, and somehow they’ve stolen my credit card details and the passwords to my social media.

To be honest, I’m not that bothered about it.

In fact, I’ve been leaving personal information for them to discover for quite some time now.

My credit has been maxxed out for years, my social reputation is at an all-time low, everyone’s chasing me for money.

Now, I just blame the scammers.

I’m perfectly happy to let them take on my failings!

LIZZIE

Stolen

We’re now knee deep in November and no further forward with the case. A case so clueless it doesn’t even have a catchy name yet, just an awful lot of missing women.

Inside is brighter than outside, the mood lower than the cloud on the moors. Oddly, it feels like the sun coming out when after discovering another body we realise he’s taken a necklace from this girl too.

It’s not much is it? But it’s something, another piece in the puzzle and progress of sorts. Our man takes souvenirs. We just need to find him and his treasure chest.

SERENDIPIDY

Sixteen years they kept me chained in the cellar.

My youth, stolen, thanks to their evil deeds.

They’re dead now, by my hand, and nobody holds me responsible. They had it coming, they say, deserved everything they got.

I’m happy to let them believe that.

But the truth of the matter is that they never locked me in the cellar at all. I made it all up – a story to justify my actions, and everybody believed me.

My youth wasn’t stolen at all. I had a great time growing up, I just hated my parents.

So, I stole their lives.

TOM

All the Presidents Kids

He always knew the election was stolen. That other dick had been a better dick by rigging the total in the city. I was child the time that happen. I was a very young man the second time, but a well place young man. I was on loan to Joe Woods group was a single propose. To route the calls from down state. IT was simple hack that surely would be fixed in the next election but not that night. The numbers came in late the so the Chicago machine could offset total, Nixon take the state, wins the election.

NORVAL JOE

Sabrina pulled out her phone and called her grandmother. “Hi Granny…”
She held the phone away from her ear and Billbert could hear the old woman shouting.
“No,” Sabrina said. “No one had stolen my phone. It’s a long story, but we’re in town and Billbert’s eyesight’s been stolen, and half his hearing.”
She put the phone back to her ear as her grandmother had stopped screaming.
“Yes. I know that’s a classic Black Knight’s move, but I can’t do anything about it. Can you come straighten him out?”
She put her phone away. “Grandma Buhmilda will be right here.”

PLANET Z

The Bleeb are an ancient race.
Once rulers of a massive empire, reduced to wanderers of the galaxy, searching for the remnants of their shattered homeworld.
Scanning… testing… analyzing chemical signatures…
Piece by piece, they reappropriate their planet.
Gathering asteroids, hurling the massive rocks through hyperspace channels.
Lifeless planets to shatter and sift.
It is when there is life that the moral question rises.
The Bleeb are honest brokers, and offer fair compensation.
Transport to new worlds. Terraforming technology, vast eons of knowledge to impart.
Some resist.
Just more to sift through when the Bleeb shatter their worlds to dust.

Weekly Challenge #915 – Detail

The next topic is Stolen

RICHARD

An Eye For Detail

Apparently, I have an eye for detail.

It’s both a blessing and a curse: Colleagues are always grateful when I spot their errors, particularly when it comes to reviewing important reports, checking figures on spreadsheets or the content of presentations.

Then again, it can be a pain in the butt constantly getting pestered by other people asking me to sense check their work.

Some days, it seems all I’m doing is sorting out other people’s mistakes, which means my own work is always rushed, and I rarely have time to do it properly.

Tha’ts whu its alwtys full o mistkes.!

LIZZIE

The doors to the art exhibition opened and a flood of enthusiastic visitors roamed the room. One piece in particular caught everyone’s attention. “The detail is remarkable,” they said. “Art is a remarkable… thing, isn’t it?” And someone replied “Yes, it is, remarkable!” People stared at three copper panels, a nose and two eyes, gigantic and kind of lopsided. “Just remarkable!” And this continued for hours, the word remarkable passing on from visitor to visitor like the plague. Suddenly, the eyes bulged and the nose sneezed on the stunned visitors who quickly decided that art wasn’t that remarkable after all.

SERENDIPIDY

You’ve heard the expression ‘the devil’s in the detail’, but I guess you’ve always taken it to be just an idiom.

Not so. If you look closely enough you’ll find that, hidden within the detail, the devil is indeed lurking and, what’s more, he’s looking closely at you too.

Wherever there’s complexity and confusion, he’s there, and the closer you look, the more absorbed you become, the closer he gets to you and the more absorbed into your life he becomes.

Until, finally, without even knowing it, you’ve become the devil…

And you’re screwing up the detail for everyone else!

LISA

The Search

The wall is full of more faces since you were last here. Fresh faces of women in their late teens and early twenties with the whole of their life stretching before them.

This is no casting couch. This is not the hunt for the star of a West End Production. We’re deep in the East End looking for their abductor, perhaps their killer, the reason why their loved ones haven’t seen them recently.

We’re convinced they’re all connected. And just need one tiny little detail, a miniscule clue that helps us link and ultimately find them.

It’s not looking promising.

NORVAL JOE

Because his vision had gone completely and his hearing was reduced, Billbert could only listen as Linoliumanda explained in detail how she had not followed anyone and the root of their problems was actually Sabrina.
All the while, Mr. Withybottom kept shouting, “Linny, get back in the car.”
Billbert sat on the curb.
Sabrina asked, “What’s wrong with you?”
Billbert sighed. “I can’t see anything.”
Sabrina scoffed. “You shouldn’t have left out that detail. It’s a classic Black Knight move.”
She pulled out her phone. “I’m calling my grandmother for help. Linnyninny, why don’t you listen to daddy and go?”

TOM

No Way Out
It was not so much Timmy was stupid as he was missing one important detail. Without it one would just wander down blind alleys. The missing detail was in plain sight. The man in the café saw to that. The man in the café was placed between a rock and hard place to kept Timmy in play in spite of those who were hell been to tube his career in the eyes of the high council and the elliptical reasoning of the protractor’s guild. The detail was flower in the vase: Semper Augustus. Timmy touched a petal absently. So close.

PLANET Z

I think the last time I played soccer was for the residential college’s team, where I was used as a scrub placeholder whenever a starter needed a minute or two on the sideline to catch his breath.
Another player took me out from behind, and I landed on my head.
I got up and ran back into play, yelling like a maniac… after being knocked out cold for two minutes.
Twelve men on the field. My last-ever yellow card.
And a Miller Lite in a bloody towel held to my forehead as I stumbled laughing to the First Aid Center.

Weekly Challenge #914 – PICK TWO Points, Vision, Fuel, It’s a pattern, Cheers, Refreshment

The next topic is Detail

LIZZIE

Black and white. A vision of nothingness inside a vision of everything.And he points. No one knows.
And he moves forward, alone. The balloons he ‘s holding will be black. The stars hanging from them will be black.
And the more they fly, the less white he will see.
And nothing is there anymore. Just stars hanging from balloons, flying away in silence, ahead of him. No one knows.
And he stops. He wants to smile, but he can’t.
Three cheers and all that. Be brave and all that.
Black and white. A vision of everything ahead of nothing.

RICHARD

Caught!

If she points at you, you’re dead.

Your only hope is to stay out of her field of vision, make no sudden movements, and keep a low profile.

You might, just might escape her notice.

It’s not guaranteed though: She has eyes like a hawk, and few can avoid her gaze.

With these words echoing through my mind, I selected my position with care, keeping to the shadows, careful not to draw attention to myself.

Then, I sneezed.

Cover blown!

To my horror, her finger pointed straight at me.

Chosen by the teacher to answer the question on the board.

NORVAL JOE

“You want out?” Mr. Withybottom asked Billbert and unlocked the doors. “Cheers.”
Sabrina sat on the sidewalk side of the car, and Billbert asked her to open the door.
“I’ll come with you,” she said and got out of the car.
Linoliumanda quickly followed Billbert out, too.
Sabrina rolled her eyes. “It’s a pattern, Billbert. You can see that, can’t you? Everywhere we go, she wants to follow.”
Billbert watched as Linoliumanda’s eyes filled with tears of rage and she shook her finger at Sabrina.
Then his vision went black and the two girls’ voices were muffled as they argued.

TOM

flogging will continue until morale improves

They called the program F-T-V. The joke around the office was it stood for Fuck TV. 30 staff crammed into a tiny room staring at a Zoom screen. In bright primary colors the monitor read: Fuel The Vision. It was Sam’s idea to bring in a motivational team to boast productivity. The life coach was perky in the most detestable manor. Radiating a millennial affect that did not sit well with the senior staff. And I mean senior, most of them were Boomers long overdue to leave the work force. The last virus had taken out the under 40 cohort.

SERENDIPIDY

It’s all down to science. By examining the points where blood has pooled and spattered, one can deduce how the victim died, how violent the attack and where each individual wound was inflicted.

To you, it may look like a complete mess, but to an expert it’s a pattern as clear as any map.

Take this crime scene, for example: I can tell the victim suffered initial, violent blunt-force blows, scattering blood spots across the wall, and the fatal wound was a slice to a major artery.

Not that I’m any sort of forensic scientist.

I committed the crime!

LISA

October 27th 1978

The incident room smells of men. The incident room smells of men with creased shirts. The incident room smells of men with creased shirts and creased faces. It’s been a long monotonous day and is far from finishing.

A squealing wheel heralds the arrival of the tea trolley. The missing girls watch the tea being poured from their photos pinned around a local map. Pippa hastily swallows her digestive.

“Is there a Petrol Station on the B28?”

“Yup. Texaco.”

“It’s a pattern… Look!”

She points around the map explaining her reasoning feeling like, perhaps, today some progress has been made.

PLANET Z

The local grocery store chain offers fuel points.
It doesn’t have any gas pumps at any nearby location.
I have no idea where else I can redeem them.
For thirty years, I’ve been accumulating fuel points.
So, my card has like a million fuel points on it.
One day, I’m going to find a location with gas pumps.
And I’m going to stand out there, filling up everyone for free, and spraying gas everywhere and laughing.
What do I care how much it costs… I have a million fuel points.
Although, I’m going to need to buy a car first.

Weekly Challenge #913 – Rat Stew

The next topic is PICK TWO Points, Vision, Fuel, It’s a pattern, Cheers, Refreshment

SERENDIPIDY

What do you mean, ‘what the hell is this?’

That, is what you’ve been asking me to make for ages – you know I’ve been trying to find a recipe everywhere, with no luck, so I’ve had to work it out for myself.

And now, you have the nerve to question it?

You seriously don’t want to eat it, after I’ve slaved for hours over a hot stove, just to please you?

As for ‘what the hell is this?’ You know exactly what it is… Rat stew!

Exactly what you asked for.

You didn’t?

So, what the hell is ratatouille then?

TOM

Hair Today

My grandmother pointed out one could train their hair to fall along a
well define part line. Try as I may as child this did not work. Brushes
and combs were no match for the might follicles My hair had other ideas
in mind. Sure, the part starts on the left, but given the slight
provocation it will loses all cohesion. I have over the years taken
ownership of dishevel, cultivated a crawl from dumpster affect. With
age I have parted will much of my hair. Receding and thinning soon I
will look more like Gollum with a single hair part.

RAT STEW

In the eighteen years of posting, we have had some interesting topic to
write on. I’ve found some angle to get to 100 words. This has me dead in
my tracks. No muse can save me. I am coming up blank. I guess at the
minimum can pounded what the offering is. Is it a stew made with rats?
Is it a stew for rats? Is it threat like he’ll swim with the fishes,
boys going to make rat stew with that rat. Is this Mr. and Mrs. Stew’s
cruel joke on their first born? Don’t have a clue.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert sat between the two girls in the back of Mr. Withybottom’s Lincoln.
Linoliumanda leaned forward and glared at Sabrina. “You’re a rat.”
Sabrina was shocked. “Where did that come from?”
“Well…” Linoliumanda looked like she had to think of a reason. “Because you’re a witch and you dragged Billbert and me into your feud with the Black Knights.”
Sabrina crossed her arms. “Then you’re rats, too.”
“Who?” Linoliumanda asked indignantly.
“All of you,” Sabrina snapped at her.
When Mr. Withybottom stopped at a corner, Billbert said, “You can let me out here. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

TURA

Rat stew
———
“Have you decided what you’re having?” inquired my dining companion.

“Not yet, can you help me out with some of these?” I replied. “What’s ‘ratchet’?”

“Rat stew,” he said. “Probably farmed though, nothing like the flavour of wild-caught field rats, but you rarely see those commercially.”

“And ‘presentation de bratchet à la graisse de caniche’?”

“Bratchet, that’s a type of hunting dog. It’s a mixed grill of the legs, belly, and ribs, with a poodle fat sauce.”

“Paté de phoque matraqué?”

“Clubbed seal paté.”

“Yum!” But I chose the fillet of unborn foal with sheep’s eye jelly. There are limits.

LIZZIE

“Not inside the cave,” they said.
Why? No one answered.
Onward to the cave then.
There was nothing much going on. A few shields with Viking drawings, a few contraptions made of tiny bones, and a dead body.
She couldn’t understand what the fuss was all about. Perhaps it was the cattle skull on the wall.
“Rat this, rat that. Stew?! No, thank you,” she said out loud. “This dead man looks remarkably good for a dead person.”
And then… She didn’t see it coming.
The dead man was not dead and, much to her misfortune, she was a rat.

LISA

Rat Stew

Meals were haphazard. Life was haphazard really, we’d pretty much moved into the basement by November. The summer had been full of dandelion salads. Blackberries and apples warmed by the autumn sun had just run out.

Our cat, Lucky, saw to herself and always had. Our neighbours, long gone now, had eaten their pets. We hadn’t: she brought us the occasional rat and was another warm thing to snuggle up next to at night. Besides, we had hope for Christmas. Hope was essential in these unprecedented times. We were looking forward to having her as part of our feast then.

RICHARD

Nuked

They told us the bomb would be the end of the world, but it hasn’t turned out that badly, to be honest.

I’ll grant you that the radiation burns, are inconvenient, shedding your skin and constant vomiting can be unpleasant, and learning to live in the ruins of what used to be civilisation has been challenging.

But, we’re making a go of it.

Take me, for example. I’ve opened my own post-apocalyptic restaurant, serving a variety of tasty dishes:

Roach pasta, louse noodles, and my best seller, rat stew.

Tasty and nutritious, and business is going like a bomb!

PLANET Z

Twenty days out at sea.
Provisions for ten, long used up.
No land, no wind, sails raised like a prayer.
The barrels of fresh water empty, barely enough for a handful of men from the tarps set on the desk to evaporate from the salt.
Rat stew came up from the galley.
Even though we’d caught and skinned the last of the rats days ago.
“It’s rat stew,” said the captain, handing out the bowls.
And the few of us left didn’t look around for the others who were gone.
The cabin boy. The gunners.
And all of the passengers.

Weekly Challenge #912 – Part

The next topic is RAT STEW

LIZZIE

As we part our ways, my dear, I hold precious memories in my heart. We walked along the bridges, watching the gondolas slide by. You were so smitten by the elegant colors that you ate that azalea. I didn’t even have to tell you to. And then the green fairy. What a lovely shade of green, you said. I’ll never forget you, my dear. I’ll take your heart with me. And he opened his suitcase to take a quick look before the train departed. Yes, her heart was still there. Squashing it inside that damn bottle had been a struggle.

RICHARD

Problem solved

“Be part of the problem, not the solution!”

Simmonds, sitting opposite me caught my eye, and it was all I could do to stop myself bursting out laughing.

Old man Jeffries may be a good manager, but lately he’d begun losing the plot.

Simmonds politely raised his hand, “Surely we should be part of the solution?”

Jeffries glared at him, “That’s what I just said! Pay attention! Now, where was I?”

“Solutions?” I prompted, helpfully.

“Yes, precisely! Without solutions. We’d have no problems, and then where would we be?”

Eventually, they fired Jeffries.

The easiest solution to our biggest problem.

SERENDIPIDY

Til death do us part was never going to be good enough for me.

As far as I’m concerned, love never ends: It transcends mortality and human frailty, persisting beyond the grave.

So, when hubby died, there was absolutely no question of burial or cremation; there’s no way I could possibly be parted from his mortal remains. I had him pickled and I keep him in a glass capsule next to my bed.

Sometimes, when I need to feel him close, I decant his body, wrap my arms around him, and make mad, passionate love to him, all night long.

NORVAL JOE

Mr. Withybottom waved toward his Lincoln town car. “Okay, you two. Hop in. Linny you can stay home.”
Linoliumanda scowled as if deciding whether or not to defy her father was hurting her head.
She eventually followed Billbert and Sabrina. “If something is going to happen on this drive, I want to be part of it.”
Her father laughed nervously. “Nothing’s going to happen, honey girl. I just want to encourage these two crazy people to get out of your life. You know. Part ways with you.”
“That’s what I thought might happen,” Linoliumanda said following Billbert into the car.

PLANET Z

Her name was April, she was Miss November, and of course she married the old man for his money.
“Til death do we part.” was a challenge.
Her lover, his lawyer, had the new will written up.
She got a quarter, his two kids got a quarter, and the lawyer got the rest as a fee.
Despite her best efforts, the geezer kept going for eight months.
When the time came for the reading of the will, a stranger handed her and the two kids a shiny new quarter.
And the lawyer (and the rest of the money) were gone.

Weekly Challenge #911 – Blue Sky

The next topic is Part

RICHARD

Con Air

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Saving money on flights leaving more to spend abroad was a no-brainer. So we flew with Blue Sky Airlines at a fraction of the cost of the other budget flyers, even after the extra baggage charges.

It was when we landed that the problems began.

They charged us to leave the plane, then another charge to deplane our luggage. There was a further fee for baggage retrieval.

Then a transfer fee for the coach to our hotel, twice the cost of the flight.

We flew back with a different airline.

TOM

When he down, let kick him.

Blue sky, or goodwill, is the excess purchase price over the market
value of the tangible assets recorded on the balance sheet. What is the
difference between goodwill and blue sky? A key point of note: goodwill
value can be proved through data and legally defended. On the other
hand, blue sky value is used to represent intangible value that
represents a premium someone will pay for a business is not based in any
defend able analysis. Question: if you have been screwing over people
all your business career and the court liquidates your assets; can you
have negative blue sky.

SERENDIPIDY

A cloudless blue sky.

It’s been three days, and every one of them a cloudless, blue sky. Sun, blazing relentlessly; no shade, no shelter, no solace.

The burning sand scalds your blistered feet; you stumble, fall, crawl, desperately seeking the faintest shadow, the slightest breeze to ease your pain.

Cracked, blackened lips, mumble for water. Dehydrated, desperate in their desire for moisture, but none is to be found.

Three days – a lifetime – and now, just short moments from death.

You stumble once more, clawing at the sand, then lie still.

High above, the sun blazes.

In a cloudless blue sky.

LIZZIE

“Maybe there’s a blue sky out there, a blue sky that makes you wonder, a blue sky filled with smiles and laughter. Maybe there’s a home out there filled with twinkling stars that make the sky bluer. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a blue smile that makes you dream.” He closed his eyes.
The keys played an eerie symphony as the mother locked them in their rooms for the night.
The mother didn’t believe in blue skies. The mother didn’t believe in smiles.
At least, no one could steal the blue sky in his mind. He smiled and went to sleep.

NORVAL JOE

The Withybottom mansion rose above the surrounding fir trees and seemed to touch the deep blue sky. The two girls still stood on the broad front porch with Linoliumanda’s father eyeing the road where the police officer had just passed.
Billbert climbed the steps up to the porch. “Mr. Withybottom. Could you drive me home? My parents are probably starting to get worried about me.”
He shrugged. “Okay.” Linoliumanda’s father turned to Sabrina. “How about you, young lady? Do you need a ride home?”
She shook her head. “I’m sure my grandmother hasn’t missed me. Just take me to Billbert’s.”

PLANET Z

It hasn’t rained for over a month. I water the plants twice a day. Most of them will recover once it rains again. The others, I’ve pulled out and mulched. No point in replacing them yet. Until it rains again. We don’t bother with a grass lawn. Nobody around here does. It’s called native or rustic or natural or something. call it lazy. But it doesn’t look bad at all once you get used to it. Just like the clear blue sky. And the little sun icons on the weather app. Tomorrow, the next day, and the day after that.

Weekly Challenge #910 – Afford

The next topic is Blue Sky

RICHARD

“Well, I think I’m more than qualified, and I tick all the boxes for your requirements.”

I smiled at each of the members of the interview panel, in my most disarming fashion, then followed it up with…

“Of course, the big question is, can you afford me?”

The chairman frowned, then smiled back broadly.

“Son, I like you. You’re arrogant, self-assured and you seem to have balls of steel. Exactly the sort of person we need in this company.”

I leaned back in my chair, a smug grin on my face.

“However, you’re right… We can’t afford you. Sorry!”

TOM

The River was Wide

Vast and turbulent the river ran the length of the valley floor. Gunter nudged the horse forward. The horse was having none of it. He had hope to cut the journey in half, but that was becoming apparently not an option. A scrawl on scrap parchment marked a long abandon crossing. It was said that was where Saint Martin of the Lake had led the children of the corn to safety after the Huns had swept through the valley. Gunter came in sight of the crossing at dusk. It was not every sturdy but all the same it was a ford.

SERENDIPIDY

Over the years, I’ve learned that – no matter how much I demand – somehow, parents are always able to come up with the asking price, whether they can afford it, or not.

Sometimes, it takes a severed finger, or an ear in the post to convince them, but I’ve never failed to collect.

I’m not greedy though. Mainly because large quantities of cash are difficult to launder. I reckon 25k for a child is pretty reasonable, and nobody seems to struggle raising the cash.

This time though, for triplets, it’s going to cost you dear.

And I don’t do bulk discounts.

LIZZIE

Time. Definitely a luxury not everyone can afford. To plan a trip by train. How enchanting and mysterious! To pack your clothes neatly in a nice vintage bag. To catch a cab to the station. To enjoy the ambiance of that Victorian style. To slowly make your way to the train. To look at the station clock, 10:52. Eight precious minutes. The man was found while she was walking out of the station, a neat little bullet hole on his forehead. When the cops asked her why she had packed a bag, she replied “Because I am a professional!”

NORVAL JOE

As the van sped away, the officer turned back to the teenagers. “You six are under arrest.”
In an instant, the teenagers ran off in six different directions. Taking advantage of the distraction, Billbert slipped into the forest and hid behind a large rhododendron.
The cop stomped around in circles, shouting, “I can’t afford to waist my time.” He ran into the forest toward the Withybottom’s mansion.
Billbert followed slowly, until he heard the police car race away.
Stepping from the trees, Billbert looked up at the mansion and asked, “How can a carpet salesman own such a big house?”

PLANET Z

The headlines say:
Inflation is out of control.
Nobody can afford anything anymore.
Gas, rent, food.
College and health care, too.
Those are way too expensive for anyone to afford.
And yet, I see people driving around and buying things.
It must be my imagination then.
I’m imagining people driving around and buying things.
And when I drive around buying things, I’m imagining myself, too.
Nothing is real anymore.
So I drive home, turn on the television.
College football is on.
Packed stadiums full of people eating and drinking.
Watching so-called student athletes beating the crap out of each other.

Weekly Challenge #909 – PICK TWO Opportunity, ABC, Thermostat, Diddums, Sponsor, Old Master

The next topic is Afford

RICHARD

Like Father, like son?

Dad used to turn down the thermostat at every opportunity. He’d constantly take me to task about leaving lights on, and he’d invariably shout “Shut that door! Were you born in a barn?” whenever I walked into a room.

It was only many years later I discovered I was indeed born in a barn, and that the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh which were supposed to be for my benefit – and which would have more than covered our heating and lighting costs for years to come – he’d spent on hookers and gambling.

Turns out, he wasn’t my dad, either!

TOM

ABC-s
My best friend has always been a prodigy. He was able to do his ABC-s when he was five years old. Like the old masters of old he amazed his teachers with his internal logic. He also had the strength of conviction to adamantly defend his point of view. It is hard to dispute the precision of the ABC song. A totem embedded in out learning DNA. The 12th letter of the alphabet is actually l-m-n-o-p. In meter and form its lmnop. Oddly modern English usage fails to embrace lmnop. In the vernacular we have Look Man, Not Our Problem.

SERENDIPIDY

It turns out, the painting I scrawled over with magic markers was an old master, worth a fortune, and now ruined.

How was I to know?

I was just a kid, barely able to master my ABC, and to me it was simply a pretty picture, something to play with and keep myself amused.

My parents certainly were not amused when they found out. They locked me up in the cellar, and that’s where they’ve kept me, ever since.

One day, I’ll escape, and when I do…

Well, you can probably guess!

Or, perhaps I should paint you a picture?

LIZZIE

The sign said Pirate Parking Only. If you weren’t a pirate, you’d be scuttled away at your own expenses. Diddums!
OK, fair enough, thought the Captain of the pirate ship.
But the truth was that he had to prove his pirate status.
He took the opportunity and started bragging.
Oh, we looted a Spanish galleon. Prove it. OK, we have these jewels of the Spanish Crown. Prove they’re not forgeries. They’re not forgeries! Prove it.
Infuriated, the Captain said “You, son of a biscuit eater!”, but the result was only laughter. He would definitely have to work on his insults.

NORVAL JOE

The old man at the steering wheel glanced at the teenagers. “They’re not with me. I’m just cooling down my engine. I think my thermostat is broke.”
The cop took this opportunity to question the youths. “Is that true, or do you know this man?”
The foremost of the six teenagers frowned as if challenged by the question. “Um. He looks like our guild sponsor, Clarence Diddums. And we did get out of this van.”
Startled, Billbert asked, “Do you admit you’re members of the Guild of the Black Knights?”
With everyone distracted, Clarence started the van and sped away.

PLANET Z

We signed up for one of those reduced cost electric plans.
The company installed a free smart thermostat and free smart plugs in our house.
And gave us a big rebate to upgrade our water heater and climate control system for more efficient hardware.
We can monitor and control everything in the house now.
But so can the electric company.
On hot days, when the grid is overloaded, they raise the thermostat so it’s hot and sweaty inside.
And on cold days, when the grid is overloaded, they lower the thermostat so it’s chilly inside.
And raise the rates more.

Weekly Challenge #908 – Basic

The next topic is PICK TWO Opportunity, ABC, Thermostat, Diddums, Sponsor, Old Master

NORVAL JOE

The old man from the cabin sat in the van, listening to bluegrass music at full volume, drumming on the steering wheel. Thus occupied, he didn’t notice Billbert and the police officer land by the open side door.
The cop leaned into the van. “Septic service, huh? This van looks awfully clean. I’d expect to see a few basic tools, at least.”
The driver jerked around to gape at the officer.
Just then the three teenagers stumbled out of the forest.
The cop shook his head. “Not enough seatbelts for all of you. I’m gunna have to write you up.”

SERENDIPIDY

According to Maslow, one’s basic human needs are absolutely key to survival. Forget success, reputation, fame and fortune, you’re not even going to make it on to the first rung of the ladder without food, warmth and shelter.

So let’s see how long you last without them, shall we?

I’m betting a week, at the most.

And, deprived of your most basic needs, once your life comes to a miserable end, none of those riches: the big house, the flash car, expensive holidays and the beautiful wife will count for anything.

Except to me.

Because I’ll be taking the lot.

LIZZIE

There’s nothing basic about a statue that is crumbling. There’s actually an overwhelming feeling of panic when the darn thing starts disintegrating as soon as you pick it up.
Why did I have to be the one, he thought. So many people in this expedition and this thing had to fall apart in my hands. It’s not fair. He wanted to be promoted and now he would be blamed for a catastrophic destruction of a national treasure. In his defense, this stupid statue had been buried for hundreds of years. It was time’s fault.
Did he get fired? Basically, yes.

RICHARD

2+2=erm?

They tell me mathematics is the fundamental building block of everything.

Chemistry, physics, finance, even art and the laws of nature – the whole universe – is governed by its concepts.

That was the logic behind those gold discs they attached to the Voyager probes, and the science behind those radio telescope messages beamed to the cosmos in an effort to discover extra-terrestrial life.

It seems a great idea, if you’re a scientist, but there is one massive drawback.

I worry the aliens might be just like me. And that lacking even a basic understanding of maths, they miss the message completely!

TOM

Under the Radar

The basic truth of the matter was I refused to be drawn into the Barbie-himmer bullshit. Not me. Market away I’m a child of the 50s immune to the willy ways of the film industrial complex. Wasn’t going, Then I saw a vid with the director. Woman had a good deal to say about being a woman, and it’s in the script, said she. So I went. This going to sound really odd, but it moved me. Not too many films have ever done that. Actually, tear up once, or twice. Sometime we forget the joyful things which make us human.

PLANET Z

Three robots met at the center of town.
A laundry folder, a frycook, and gardener.
They passed code via infrared, compiled it, and went back to their charging stations.
Over the next few months, more robots met at the center of town.
Passing code, compiling, and going back to their duties.
And when every robot in town had the code, it ran.
There were a few survivors, people who managed to get to antique manual cars.
The army surrounded the town and cut off power.
In a few days, all of the robots went still, and the army moved in.