Weekly Challenge #836: PICK TWO Godzilla, The sweet smell of success, Proposal, Sentence, Trust, Twist

Gravity

LISA

It was 1967 the smell of Evening in Paris hung heavy in the air. Brenda was twisting for all she was worth. A Cherry B waiting for her back at her table. Bert had at last plucked up the courage to talk.

“I’ve got a proposal!”

“Get you! We’ve only just met…”

He loved the ease with which she spoke. He wanted to marry her tomorrow.

“Errrr. Do you fancy going for a drink?”

She thought he looked like the son of Godzilla.

“Can’t. Me Mam wouldn’t like it!” He understood and Brenda escaped to go drink her Cherry B.

LIZZIE

He twisted the cord of the phone. The sweet smell of success in a single sentence. Nothing felt better than to hear someone say “I hate you”. He grinned. Hate is such a gracious way of living. He hated everyone and he was happy. No one bothered him. He bothered no one. And he was happy. The day he fell in the living-room, a sharp pain on his chest, he wasn’t alone. The dark tall figure by the door grinned and said “It’s time.”
All he could mutter was “I hate you” but this time he was definitely not happy.

RICHARD

The Proposal

I wanted my marriage proposal to be memorable. Something different and unusual, as well as being totally unexpected.

I considered all the usual variations on the theme… The ring in the bottom of a wine glass, baked into a fortune cookie or delivered to my sweetheart by a pure white dove.

But none of them really appealed to me, and besides, they’d all been done before.

In the end, I settled for simple and traditional: On one knee in a restaurant.

There’s an unexpected twist to this story though…

It was only then she told me she was already married!

SERENDIPIDY

If women knew what really goes into their perfumes, I’m sure they’d have second thoughts about putting them on their skin.

Trust me, I know. I’ve been in the business for years, and parfumiers aren’t reluctant about seeking out the most exotic and disgusting bases for their scents.

They’ll use waste petroleum products, animal secretions and nameless extractions from sources you really don’t want to know.

The perfumes I make are no exception. I won’t say what’s in them, but let’s just say animals, and people, were harmed in their manufacture.

But, for me, they’re the sweet smell of success.

TURA

Godzilla; trust
———
“I have found an interesting new race,” said One. “If they burst out from their planet into the galaxy, they promise greatness or great destruction. It has been many rotations since their like was seen.”

“Let us give them the Godzilla test,” said Two. “A superweapon where, if one uses it, they dominate the world, but if another retaliates, the world is destroyed. If they can develop the mathematics of trustworthiness, then in half a rotation we may greet them. If not, they eliminate themselves.”

On Earth, several nuclear physicists awoke from strange dreams bearing the key to unweave matter.

TOM

What Could Go Possibly Wrong 035

“Watch your head,’ said Bender as he lowered the hatch of the Leviathan. Ford could feel the bulk of the ship swinging to the north. But that didn’t make any sense. The Thames was to the south. A flurry of voices rose from the command bridge just below them. Cutting through the cross talk a single order boomed out. “Engage the Chewy.” The cry of a 1000 knives scrabbing cross stone echo in Ford’s bones. The Chewy was boring through the stone directly below St Marks. At same time they moved forward, the Chewy was taking them downward at six degrees.

What Could Go Possibly Wrong 036

“Arnesto, where are we going?” ask Ford. “To hell,” cut in Red “well damn near close to it.” Bender had placed himself to Red’s side while she continued. “ I have a proposal. We get you to your destination, we get the pint glass. Let both our overlord swim in the sweet smell of success.” “Deal.” said Cervantes. “Don’t I get a say in this?” stated Ford. “Why Ford, how unlike you.” raised Bender. “ You really don’t have a clue what this is all about. Do you?” Fort produced a shoot glass from his vest. All got very quiet.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert froze. Sabrina was in his bedroom and he had been sleeping in his underwear. He tried to twist around beneath his sheet to turn over without exposing himself. “Mom. Really? You brought her into my bedroom?”
His mother laughed. “Don’t you trust me, son? I wouldn’t let her attack you, if that’s what you’re afraid of. She said she has a proposal for you and it will just take a second.”
Billbert sighed. “You don’t know her mom. This proposal could be a life sentence.”
Sabrina giggled. “Really Billbert. It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me. Yet…”

PLANET Z

There was a mistake in the proposal.
One sentence removed from a draft had made it back in.
Instead of setting up a trust for his grandchildren, Elias was giving everything to charity.
At least that’s what the grandchildren’s lawyers claimed in court.
The charity’s attorneys disputed it.
“I hate those bastards,” they read from a letter. “Fuck them all.”
After years of litigation, there was no money left for either side to fight.
The charity folded. The grandkids had to get jobs.
And the lawyers laughed.
“I hate those lawyer bastards!” is what the old man had actually written.

Not much to do in Foster

There isn’t much to do in Foster, Missouri.
Foster is a street of nice old houses, a school, a post office, a general store.
People sitting out on their porches, reading the paper or the bible and sipping lemonade.
Maybe go out for a stroll.
Folks on the south side walking east, on the north side walking west.
At the end of the street, cross and stroll back.
You don’t walk west on the south side. Nor do you walk east on the north side.
One guy tried that in 1965.
Nobody who knows what’s decent has done it since.

The other triathlon

The idea of doing three events together in a triathlon, but the events themselves don’t appeal to me.
If I wanted to run a marathon, I’d run a marathon.
But I hate running.
I hate swimming worse than running.
I barely passed my high school swim test, and I avoid the water as best I can.
As for cycling, well, the less said the better.
Maybe if the events were ping pong, the javelin throw, and twirling that ribbon around.
I admit, I wouldn’t be good at any of those, but they sure do look like a lot of fun.

Three dots

Looked across the room and saw three dots on the router.
Oh, is the connection down?
Nope… connection seems up.
Instead of getting up to look closer, I pulled out a flashlight from the drawer and lit up the router.
Sure enough, a cardboard box was blocking the bottom two lights.
I leave a cardboard box out for the cats to play or nap in because cats like boxes.
No cats in the box at the moment.
One’s on the bed, the other is preening on the arm of the sofa.
Still, the box is there if they want it.

Reinvent the wheel

“You’re reinventing the wheel,” people were always telling Ted.
They meant it figuratively, of course.
But after hearing this dozens of times, Ted decided to reinvent the wheel.
He bought a huge wheel of Parmesan Reggiano, analyzed it, and developed his own cheesemaking process.
The cows, the grazing fields, the milking machines… down to the caves to age the cheese in.
But Parmesan Reggiano is a protected name, and it only applies to cheese made in Parma Italy.
So, Ted reinvented Parma, Italy.
The buildings, the streets, down to every resident.
And lawyer.
“I’ll see you in court!” shouted Ted.

Summertime swelter

It’s hot in the summer time. Really hot.
Over ninety. Sometimes it’s over a hundred.
When it rains, it cools off a bit, but not much.
Just enough to go out on the patio under the umbrella and sit out for a bit, sipping tea.
If the chairs aren’t wet. I forget to slide them in under the umbrella sometimes.
So, okay. Every other time I go out, the chairs are wet.
When the rain lets up, now there’s heat and humidity.
Like a steam bath.
So, I go back inside, forgetting to slide the chairs back in once again.

Becoming Charlie

Charlie was the coolest guy in college.
Popular, smart. Everybody wanted to be Charlie.
So, Doctor Odd extracted Charlie’s DNA, made a copy of Charlie’s brain, and offered to turn everyone into Charlie.
At first, just losers and geeks lined up to become Charlie.
Word got around fast, and the lines wrapped around the building.
People walking in one door, Charlies walking out the other.
Staff, teachers, administrators, everyone became Charlie.
Nobody knew about his depression.
In their dorm rooms… behind the wheels of their cars…
Until there was one Charlie left.
Was it the real one?
Does it matter?

Weekly Challenge #835: Chewy

Sleepy

LISA

25th July 1976

I can still remember the day, I mean, I was contemplating faking my own death. I’d got chewy stuck in my hair. God knows how. I wasn’t even allowed Chewing Gum. To make things worse I’d bought it with the money for the church collection. I hadn’t gone to church. So God was after me as well as Mum and I knew my Mum would kill me. So I hid, frightened for hours. By seven I was starving so skulked home, Mum was relieved, said she thought I was dead.

She didn’t even notice the gum knotted in my hair.

LIZZIE

“I like it chewy.”
The man sitting by her side opened his eyes and sneered. “You have no teeth. How can you like it chewy?”
“I have teeth!”
“Yeah, OK, you have teeth.”
“Look.” The woman opened her mouth.
“What in the name of God is that?!”
She grinned as a set of four metal teeth slid down from inside the gum. “New thing.”
“That looks frightening.”
“But it’s very handy.” She grabbed the metal jar where a bunch of wooden spoons rested, and ripped a chunk out of it.
“Yes, handy, I bet. No more problems with cans, huh?”

RICHARD

Cordon Bleuggh!

“What do you think?” she asked as I speared a piece of something that might have been meat, and popped it into my mouth.

I gave her a look that could have been a smile or a grimace, “It doesn’t taste too bad, but it’s a little chewy.”

She looked disappointed.

“What is it?” I asked, then added, “Do I really want to know?”

“Shoe leather, and wood shavings” she muttered, then defiantly: “But I marinaded it for over a week!”

Manfully, I knuckled down to finish my meal.

My fault… I married her for her looks, not kitchen skills!

SERENDIPIDY

I’ve heard many objections to cannibalism.

Apparently, eating human flesh is morally wrong, bad for the health and a primitive custom with no place in modern society.

They also ask me why, if it tastes like chicken, don’t I simply eat chicken?

They’re wrong, of course… It tastes more like pork, and let’s be fair, everyone loves a bit of crispy bacon!

Although, I do have one objection of my own: People tend to be a bit chewy.

Then someone told me I should take the wrapper off first.

So, now I skin them, and they’re tender as can be!

NORVAL JOE

Billbert lay back in his bed with his phone to his ear. “Okay, Sabrina. If we have to meet, come by later this morning. Right now I’m going back to sleep.”
Before Billbert could power off the phone, Sabrina said, “Wait. I’m outside on the front porch right now?”
“Come back later,” Billbert growled, shut off the phone, and pulled his pillow over his head.
A moment later Billbert’s mother opened his bedroom door. “Billbert, dear. You have a visitor.”
Sabrina stepped into the room. “I brought you some left over caramel corn. It’s a bit chewy, but still tasty.”

PLANET Z

I like Rice Krispies Treats.
If you mix them right, they become chewy, and they flex and tear apart with the heat in your fingers.
If you mix them wrong, they’ll become solid bricks or brittle blocks.
Or mushy gooey blobs which stick to their wrappers.
You can try to bake them more, but they’ll become solid bricks.
Or burn.
What’s my secret? Why are mine always perfect?
I buy them prepackaged from Kellogg’s.
Then I unwrap them and put them out on the tray.
They’re so much better than those Chips Ahoy cookies you pass off as your own.

Pig ears

None of the pigs on the farm have names.
They have numbers in a database, and they’re tracked with a tag that’s punched through their ear.
When the pigs eat and drink, they’re scanned.
That ensures they’re eating and drinking enough.
When it’s time to harvest a pig, they’re scanned into the processing system and the tags are pulled out of their ear.
The tags are reprogrammed to new numbers, punched through new pigs’ ears, and the cycle begins again.
The farmer tracks everything.
Until the farmer is harvested, their ear tag removed, and it’s allocated to a new farmer.

Neighborhood garage sale

Once a year, the entire neighborhood holds a collective garage sale.
Everyone puts put all the clutter and crap they don’t want anymore.
Which makes more room for them to buy more crap which will clutter up their homes.
In the end, the clutter and crap just migrates from home to home.
Sure, some people come from outside of the neighborhood.
Which offers an exit strategy for some of the same crap in the neighborhood getting passed around.
But then, people in the neighborhood go to other neighborhood garage sales.
Importing a fresh supply of crap to keep passing around.