Weekly Challenge #759 – Revolution

Box kitty


A giant creature moved forward sluggishly, its head bowed down.
They knew it was coming. They thought they had enough time to prepare themselves.
They drafted a plan. They created the trap.
They didn’t monitor its growth. It’s OK, some said, it’ll be fine.
When they saw it, they knew they were in trouble.
Who’ll be the sacrificial hero? Who? No one wanted to be a hero.
Arguments, fighting. Some died. Let’s feed those to the beast.
No, no respect for the dead.
Some were imprisoned.
Yes, let the revolution begin now… before everyone gets killed, one way or another.


Come the Яevolution

Come the revolution, things are going to change around here.

No more of your Western decadence, your relentless consumerism and your immoral, self-serving lifestyles.

Come the revolution, the glorious leader will rule with an iron fist and your capitalist ideals will be trodden underfoot.

And, come the revolution, I will stand at the forefront, proudly hoisting the glorious flag of the hammer and sickle.

Mark my words, the day is coming soon!


What do you mean the revolution already happened?

You say I missed it?

Remind me – never to rely on communist newspaper for latest information again.


It has always fascinated me how the smallest, incremental movements can have the most devastating results.

Like how the slightest squeeze of a finger on a trigger can bring about instant death.

Or, let’s consider the position you find yourself in now.

Limbs secured and stretched to their limit, sinews straining, muscles taut.

And all it takes is for me to turn the wheel through just a fraction of a revolution to cause the most extreme and intense pain that can be imagined.

And, just imagine if I gave it a full turn?

Except, you don’t have to imagine it!


Pictures of Chairman Mooow

I saw the topic and immediately thought of the Beatle’s song. Problem is four day of news feds, dead tired. I’m trying to remember what it was like to be a 15 year old kid watching a nation pull itself apart. Revolution, the song, pissed a lot of adults off. What they missed was song was posing the question: Show me a better way. I still see it as a love song to possibility. Just as a lark I took a look at my 45 collection, there it was. With that spit apple background, Hey Jude on the flip side.


Karma Revolution

There’s a common thread that runs between God and the devil, right and wrong, yin and yang, darkness and light. It creates a thin but definable line.

As we sow … so shall we reap.

Karma comes in all shapes and sizes … but … sometimes karma is slow, so I lend a hand. Oftentimes a digital photo in an email, or a well-placed rumor worked as well as a slashed tire … Or injury.

“For the greater good”!

In a county of small towns … tales of bad karma travel … and folks buy into it. We have built a real nice community here!


Vinyl discs at 33 rpm are the perfect form of music reproduction. You can keep your CDs, yes I know you can get scratches and cat pee on them and they’ll still play, but what sort of quality is that? And digital files that play identically every time, completely soulless. An LP is a living thing, whose hisses and crackles are mementos of the owner’s relationship with it. Playing an LP is like making love, compared with which an MP3 file is like a whore off the street.

At least, that’s what I told myself until I got an iPod.


The two agents moved in on Dergle, one on each side, acting aggressive. “Look, Weiner Dog man. We’re the legitimate authority, not your crowd that play’s at keeping the law and order.”

Dergle tried to look at each agent at once, ending up looking cross eyed. “Does legitimate authority try to take a minor against his will without his parents or other legal guardian?”

One of the agent’s shook his head. “You supers think you’re going to start a revolution and recreate our national intelligence agencies.”

Dergle laughed. “We’re not trying to recreate anything. We just want to augment it.”


Nobody has seen the King for years.
Decisions are still being made by “The Palace” but nobody has actually seen the King or heard anything out of him.
It’s just “The Palace” making the decisions, say his advisors.
If you demand to see the King, you’ve turned away by the guards.
The guards, the servants, the advisors… everyone is silent.
I got a job as a cook, managed my way into the King’s chambers.
Laying on the bed, wires all throughout his body.
“I am the palace now,” says a voice.
And I ran. And I haven’t stopped running since.

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