Month: November 2019

Weekly Challenge #707 – BOOM

Tin

RICHARD

Boom Town

It’s amazing what you can do with clever advertising.

Dingo Gulch was a dead end, no hope, washed out hovel in the back end of nowhere, but the mayor hired a top notch PR company, whose glossy brochures and slick ads sold us as a boom town… And, before you know it, we had prospectors, speculators, investors and entrepreneurs beating down our doors to get a piece of the action.

It didn’t last long, of course, when people realised what a dump Dingo Gulch was, they pulled out sharpish – but not before they’d spent all their cash!

Boom town!

LIZZIE

Boom, and the moon was gone. No one believed it could happen, but it did. The so-called brotherly neighbors from next door, meaning the next galaxy or wherever they came from, threatened to do it and everyone laughed, not a care in the world. Then, it happened. Those damn little green jerks. Ever since they moved in with all that scientific progress, new ideas, new concepts, new gadgets, life was a lot more complicated. That resonant boom was only outmatched by the roaring sound of space ships exploding as they left Earth. Oops! “Should we prepare for war?” someone asked.

SERENDIPIDY

I still hear the boom of artillery, even though the war is done.

I can still smell the acrid tang of napalm, even on the freshest of breezes.

The insistent thud of choppers; the whine and thud of missiles; the staccato clatter of machine gun fire pervades my waking hours, and stirs me from my sleep.

And, over it all, the screams and cries of my fallen comrades; the pungent smell of cordite, sweat and blood.

Even now.

Even after all these years.

And, somehow, I have been forgotten.

For although I was a soldier.

I was also Viet Cong.

—
TOM

Boom

The second best thing to a controlled fire is, wait for it … things that go BOOM. Yup from M80s to Bikini Atoll, boom just can’t help but put a smile on ones face. Of course being on the business end of boom, not so good. As a rule landmines not of the top ten boom list. That’s boom bad. What I’m talking about is a deep pre-adolescent desire to see thing fly apart with sufficient amount of loudness. I still have a boom scar from my gas pool plastic Bismarck explosion. It was a teachable moment for damage radius

NORVAL JOE

Whatever had been used to cause such a boom in the corner of the cafeteria also produced a large amount of smoke.

The smoke continued to rise toward the ceiling, even while Ms. Frunsio ranted about how much trouble all the boys would be in when she found out who had caused the explosion.

As it reached the ceiling it set off the smoke detectors and the sprinklers kicked on.

Boys and girls ran from the cafeteria, screaming and covering their heads, except for Billbert who stayed to watch Linoliumanda dancing to music only she could hear, water raining down.

PLANET Z

Every time Ricky Ka sacks a quarterback, he gets down on one knee and waits for the crowd to shout KA-BOOM!
And he jumps up with his arms raised.
He racked up a dozen sacks in his rookie year, twenty in his next year.
Defensive player of the year award.
Again and again.
KA-BOOM! KA-BOOM! KA-BOOM!
Playoff wins, two Super Bowl rings.
Then came the injuries.
Knee surgery. Shoulder surgery.
Back from rehab, and then done for good.
Hall of Fame ceremony, he got down on one knee.
KA-BOOM.
He held his chest, fell over, and never got back up.

Metric metrics

Fat Freddy was so fat, he couldn’t see the numbers on the scale.
So, he bought a talking scale.
No, the talking scale didn’t groan or say “Only one at a time!”
It just told him his weight.
In kilograms.
Which is a smaller number than pounds.
Freddy thought it was telling him his weight in pounds.
When he used his treadmill, it was set to use kilometers.
So he thought he was walking more miles than he actually walked.
He died of a massive heart attack.
His family paid for the funeral in dollars.
American dollars, not Canadian dollars.

Pedantic

Nobody at the dictionary company likes to work with Santos.
If you looked up the word “pedantic” in the dictionary, you wouldn’t just see a picture of Santos.
You’d see a picture of Santos arguing with Daniel Webster about the definition of pedantic.
Several editions of the dictionary missed publication dates because he wouldn’t stop arguing.
He was so obsessive about splitting hairs and tearing his hair out over the most minute detail, he ended up bald.
It left him without nits to pick, so he turned to nitpicking others.
The publisher gave Santos a final word to define: fired.

Handball

One wall.
One ball.
The handball championships.
The best of the best.
Playing in the finals.
They dive and swat and scream.
Scraping the ground, bloody knees and elbows.
Plastic goggle frames fly off their heads, cracking on the pavement.
Ragged leather gloves, torn surfer shorts, soles ripping off of their shoes.
Towels soaked in sweat, empty water bottles.
Pickle brine jars.
Anything for a win, anything.
Shouting at the referee, the crowd.
Kicking over chairs.
Game point.
Time out, time out.
One more serve to go.
Bounce it on the ground.
Slap it, and scream with everything you’ve got.

Bomb squad

We named the bomb disposal robot “Scooby” after that dog in the cartoons.
Scooby was great for snipping wires and dragging bombs away from crowded areas.
Then we’d remotely detonate the bombs, either by setting off the explosives with a small charge or shooting the hell out of them until they exploded.
Sometimes, the locals would shoot somebody, put a grenade or bomb under them, and call for the medics.
Scooby was useful at scouting these human bombs, flipping them over to reveal the deadly trap.
And then, a bomb took out Scooby. Blew him to bits.
Scooby became Scrappy.

Gone gone gone

Long ago, I remember going to a hot dog place, and it was great.
It isn’t there anymore.
There was this really good pizza joint, too.
It’s also gone.
The rib joint in Columbus?
Long gone.
The bar and grill where I’d get margaritas and fish tacos and salads?
Gone. Gone. Gone.
They’re all gone.
Meanwhile, I drive past McDonalds and Burger King and Wendy’s and Jack In The Box and Subway and…
The mediocre chains stretch across the city… the state… the country… the world…
I park and go into the local barbecue pit sandwich restaurant.
Don’t ever change.

Tura – Turtle and Boom

Turtle; boom
———
The tortieboom, or turtle tree, grows in the wettest, darkest tropical forests. Its fruits look like large oranges. When ripe, they split open, and a baby turtle emerges. It hurries down the tree seeking the safety of a warm puddle. Adult turtles give birth to egg-like seeds for new turtle trees.

In drier, sunnier climes, the tree flourishes, but economises its resources by omitting its turtle phase, bearing fruits that contain its own seeds. These are the orange trees that we all know.

This is why Buddhists and vegans are forbidden to eat oranges, for they are animals, not plants.

Doomsday vault

We keep seeds for thousands of species and varieties of plants in the Doomsday Vault.
Should disaster ever come, future generations can recover these plants.
I walk across the frozen tundra, enter the vault lobby, and open the hatch.
I close it behind me before I descend the stairs.
Another hatch, another set of stairs, and then… the vault.
I quickly find what I am looking for…
Brussels sprouts.
I grab all of those seeds and return to the surface.
And dump them in the lake.
It’s bad enough we will destroy the world.
Why make future generations suffer more?

Weekly Challenge #706 – PICK TWO saucy, holidays, turtle, boom, cluster, chainsaw, breast

Someone missed me

LIZZIE

The regulars at the bar took sneaky glances at the blonde woman who had just walked in. Her long hair swayed as she conquered the room, an aura of certainty about her. The tight turtleneck made her perky breasts tease risky thoughts into everyone’s minds. She pulled up a chair and sat down, facing the room, her feet up on the table in front of her. Wasn’t it such a pleasant little coincidence that the chair had a heart on its back? She smiled. Everyone smiled back. A few waved with enthusiasm. No one knew she had the chainsaw ready.

RICHARD

Saucy

Almost as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realised my mistake.

I’d just announced to a room of friends and relatives, “I do like saucy holidays!”

You could have heard a pin drop, as they processed what they’d heard. A few embarrassed giggles and stifled coughs broke the silence.

“No, you’ve got me wrong”, I blustered; “We were talking about my last trip, and the amazing Italian food I had: Pasta, pizza, ragu… All those lovely sauces.”

The mood lightened, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I’d actually been discussing my sex tourism in Thailand!

SERENDIPIDY

There’s nothing like a cluster of serial killings to excite the press and to instil fear into the populace – so much more fun than isolated murders that barely make the front pages.

And, I always say, if you’re going to hit the headlines, you may as well do it in style, which is why my favoured weapon is the chainsaw – It really grabs the collective imagination.

There’s something special about the execution too. The sound of metal against bone; the smell of oil and blood; the feel of steel cleaving flesh!

Unconvinced?

Come here… And let me demonstrate!

TOM

All Four OnE – “A job is a job,” mused Rudy as he donned his turtle neck and giant head piece. It took three people to get him into the fiberglass shell. “I am the star after all …” “What a sec amigo. Last time I looked there were four of us.” “Yaa, second banana from the right.” “Stop grossing dude and get into character. We are the Holiday Turtles and kids are counting on us.” “To get hit in the face with pies and rock back and forth on our shells. Not exactly Shakespeare in the Park.” “Ok. Ready. On Four. Cowabunga”

NORVAL JOE

Billbert didn’t have to think twice. Linoliumanda had never burned him like Marrissa had. “No. I’m sorry, but I’m here with Linoliumanda. I’m dancing with her.”

He felt guilty when she didn’t have a saucy comeback, but sniffled and said, “Okay.” She seemed to draw into herself like a turtle and sat in a chair by the window.

There was a sudden boom and a cluster of boys in the corner scattered.

“That’s enough,” Ms. Frunsio screamed. She stood on the stage, her breast heaving with emotion. “This dance is over. And there may be no holiday dance next month.”

PLANET Z

For the holidays, we’d take a chainsaw down to the beach and hunt for turtles.
Turkey may be your thing, but a big turtle roast is our thing.
Soak it in the bathtub with grandma’s secret marinade for a day.
We’d dig a pit, throw in a bunch of wood, and get a fire going.
Then we’d throw the grating over it, and as the wood turned to ash, that’s when you throw the turtle on.
Cover it all up, sing a few songs, and breathe in that smoke.
It’s all about family, being together, and eating a large animal.

Claim

The emergency room gave me a prescription without refills.
The drug worked so well, my doctor thinks I should stay on the medicine.
So, he gave me a follow-up prescription.
When I was down to three pills, I tried to get the new prescription filled.
My insurance company balked at the claim.
I called them, and had to explain the situation.
“What do you need it for?” asked the fool on the other end of the line.
“That’s a violation of my privacy and the HPAA laws,” I said.
The claim was approved, and I pick the pills up tonight.