It used to be that the vehicles in a theme park’s dark ride were along a conveyor belt, and they ran continuously.
You walk on to a moving pathway, step in the vehicle, and ride along.
Then when the ride was over, step out to another moving pathway and exit.
Then came semi-independent vehicles running on an electric power rail on the track.
Finally, engineers designed and built fully independent vehicles that roamed around and recharged at stopping points.
People were amazed and thrilled at the innovation.
Then they left the park, got in their cars, and drove back home.
Grant you three wishes
If you rub a lamp, a genie will come out and grant you three wishes.
If you rub a vase, a demon will come out and grant you three wishes.
If you rub a top, a goblin will come out and grant you three wishes.
If you rub a wind chime, a ghost will come out and grant you three wishes.
If you rub a spring, a water nymph will come out and flop on the shore until it suffocates.
Or you can push it back into the water. So it can breathe again. And then grant you three wishes.
Beethoven’s chase
In 30 years, Beethoven lived in 35 different places.
Sometimes, it was the weather.
Other times, it was the neighbors.
It was always something:
The landlord didn’t let him hang things on the wall.
The lease required a pet deposit.
The bedroom had an east-facing window and he preferred to sleep in.
He was always breaking leases and losing deposits and driving realtors batty.
Not to mention the post office, which never knew where to forward his mail.
He’d send out compositions, and when the sponsor would send them back, they’d travel all around Germany, chasing their creator for months.
The bakers made
After the great war, when food was scarce, the bakers made the hungry full.
When the city was rebuilt and society thrived, the bakers had to make the full hungry again.
They tried fancier and fancier foods.
Enticing shoppers with colorful and amazing presentations.
Aromas that struck the nose and captured the imagination.
And when that wasn’t enough, well, the bakers started a riot… which led to a civil war.
And after that civil war, when food was scarce again, the bakers came out of their bunkers, loaded their ovens with scrapwood from the ruins, and made the hungry full.
Weekly Challenge #842: Scoreboard
Also, Ed is inviting everyone to contribute to his site Edwardian Times, which is a great opportunity for more ways to express and create. Head on over there and check things out, and let’s all have some fun and challenge in crafting more imaginations.
LISA
A crap Monday in June
It started badly I’d woken late then I couldn’t find my purse. So I was rushing to work then somehow was lying by the side of the road and seconds later I was in a hospital bed. As I was wondering if the day could get any worse I turned to the monitor – a flat line turned sideways into a ladder promptly climbed by an ape. The music from Donkey Kong rang in my ears.
“Pauline! Can you hear me?”
“I think we’re losing her.”
On the monitor the bonus counter flashed a zero and GAME OVER filled the screen.
RICHARD
Losing to win
The local team got one of those new-fangled digital scoreboards installed at the stadium. The trouble is, they blew the budget on the board and had nothing left over to pay to have it installed.
So, Buck did it for them as a favour.
Only, Buck knows nothing about anything, and he wired it all backwards.
We only discovered after our team lost by minus sixteen points, after sixteen goals!
We figured it out in the end though, and now we’re happy to let our opponents score as often as they can.
Because even zero beats a negative result!
ED
Walking Away
From the dugout, he watched as the grounds crew finished raking the divots and covered the infield.
He glanced up. Visitors 2. Home 1. As the scoreboard lights dimmed, he thought about the glorious ending that almost was. The shot that appeared to be a game-winning homer turned into the last out in a blink with a miraculous grab by the leftfielder.
He’d never had a walk-off hit. And wouldn’t. There was no pro contract waiting, just an office job in Hartford. His walk off was his walking away from the game he’d played since he was 5 years old.
LIZZIE
The scoreboard was off. The race was over.
She had taken her jet ski to the limit and broken it.
The scoreboard would be on again in a few weeks and she had no money.
That’s when her life of crime started. A few tools. A few parts. A whole jet ski, why not!
She painted it in her colors so no one would recognize it.
Now, she was sitting in jail. Not because of the jet ski but because she had messed with… the scoreboard.
She thought, what the heck, I’m not going to be dead in the water!
SERENDIPIDY
You might think it’s a funny sort of game: Two teams, both determined to win at all costs, a referee – that’s me – yet, no scoreboard.
So, how do you know who’s winning?
Well, it’s not that sort of a game.
You see, it’s not about scoring points, gaining territory, or being the best players.
It’s all about surviving, and the only way to win, is to outlive your opponent, until in the end, only one remains standing.
And that’s when I, the referee, step in to deliver the final blow.
Because, in this game, I’m afraid there are no winners!
TURA
Scoreboard
—-
Operating our village’s cricket scoreboard takes keen attention, and over the years I got used to anticipating the result of a ball well before the umpire’s signal.
One day we had a new player batting, unpleasant chap, I thought. I imagined the first ball smashing into the stumps, and then it happened, just like that. So I wondered, was I not anticipating things, but making them happen?
I experimented, visualising each ball in advance. I soon got the hang of it, and I could make the matches go any way I liked.
But as superpowers go, this one’s pretty useless.
NORVAL JOE
On Sunday morning, Billbert was awake, dressed and sitting on the front porch of their tilting three story Victorian home. He saw Sabrina approach and stood, thrust out his hand and shook hers before she could get close enough to lay her lips upon him.
“See you tomorrow,” he said before she could get closer.
Sabrina frowned at him. “Meet me behind the scoreboard on the baseball field before first period.”
Billbert sighed. “Why? Can’t we just high five when we passed each other in the hallway?”
“That is not how it works,” she snapped at him. “Meet me there.”
PLANET Z
I hate playing basketball.
I don’t mind watching it when it’s played well, but I hate playing it.
Shooting baskets for a game of HORSE is okay for one HORSE, but when there’s dribbling, passing, and running involved, no thanks.
In gym, I’d sit on the bench, and when forced to play, throw wild passes or chuck air balls.
“Do you want to referee?” the gym coach said.
“I don’t know any of the rules,” I said. “What’s a double dribble?”
Instead, I volunteered to run the scoreboard.
Dont call it math. It’s just pushing the right button once or twice.
Old time driveins
The drive-ins have been dying out since The Sixties.
Killed off by movie theaters, which have been dying out since the new century.
No matter what the perks: stadium seating, fancy gourmet dinners, IMAX screens.
VHS, cable, DVD, Blu-Ray, streaming.
They were already ending the old way of doing things.
So when the virus hit, theaters were closed, some people thought drive-ins would come back.
Stay in your car and watch the movies in a social way.
Instead, people stayed home to watch.
The studios held back new releases.
But people didn’t care.
They just watched the old classics instead.
Hoodies
Every year, work gives away hoodies to the staff.
I don’t wear hoodies.
And even if I did, these hoodies are never black.
I look good in black, so I only wear black.
So, they sent out a new hoodie this year, and I opened the box and put it on the floor.
Tinny the cat got in it and used it as a cat bed.
“You don’t want it?” work asks.
“I want it,” I say. “As a cat bed.”
“Does it not fit?” work asks.
“The cat fits perfectly,” I say.
And I smile and watch her sleep.
Perfect pitch
Allen has Perfect Pitch.
Well, he calls it Absolute Pitch.
Musicians and experts tend to call it that instead of the pedestrian term Perfect Pitch.
He can hear a sound and tell you what note on the scale it is.
That coffee mug is a B flat.
That siren is a C sharp.
That woman is screaming in a high A.
And that explosion is… well… after the bright flash and shock wave and the wall of flame, Allen can’t tell us what its note was.
I think the Geiger Counter clicks a D.
But I don’t have Perfect Pitch.
Not so wild about Harry
I know a guy named Harry.
He hates his name.
As a kid, everyone called him Hairy Harry.
Or, when he started carrying a knife and threatening to cut out everyone’s eyes, Scary Hairy.
The song “I’m so wild about Harry” would drive Harry wild.
I guess he wasn’t so wild about me.
Even tried to kill me when I sang it.
For that, he was put in jail.
He was delighted to know he’d only be known as an inmate number.
No more teasing.
Until he got his number
8765309.
He killed his first cellmate for calling him Jenny.
On the side of a barn
Long ago, this was a forest.
Then, settlers came and cut down the trees.
And they planted crops.
They held barn-raisings and had square dances.
Then came movies and the radio and cars.
Every barn had a side painted white to show movies off of.
When the sun went down and all the work done, it was time.
And the people gathered together and watched.
And they laughed and they cried, held each other when they were scared.
It’s hard to find a place like that anymore, but if you look, you’ll find it.
And you’ll never want to leave.