Weekly Challenge #804 – Over to you…



The Tale of Nasty Nate
‘Thomas Jefferson established a precedent in 1801 with the Barbary pirates, and I will not change tack with these Somali pirates: the United States of America does not kowtow to pirates. We will utilize all strategic force at our disposal to bring the crew and their ship home.’

“Tough words. Over to you, Kathy.”

“Thanks, Phil-“

Nathan didn’t hear Kathy’s news report. He was lost in imagination: pirates are still real:

|Captain Nasty Nate was a salty sea dog. Not a ship we’re a-sail what didn’t quake are the sight of his Jolly Roger.

“Avast, ye whelps, and heave to!”


Billbert didn’t think it was right that Sabrina should be unfairly labeled. “This isn’t fair that people should treat you so badly. You ought to complain to the principal or the PTA or someone.”
Sabrina shook her head in resignation. “There’s no sense fighting it. It’s over. I’ll just live with it as it is.”
Billbert filled with righteous indignation. “It might be over to you, but it’s not to me. I won’t stand for this.”
A sad smile crossed Sabrina’s face. “What are you going to do, Billbert? Make a big deal and get labeled a freak like me?”


What Could Go Possible Wrong 004

Ford changed his angle of direction by 5 degrees, swinging wide of the
library and toward the athletic field. “ Remember the 97 game,” mused
Cervantes. Ford caught the shadow of sphere making its way towards
Arnesto’s head. Up field a voice yelled “ Over to you.” A underclassmen
slid just below Arnesto’s arm. Without so much a glance he block the man
and caught the ball. As the pone play looked up Arnesto caused the ball
to dance across his back knuckles. “Show Off.” chirped Ford. “Gifted Ford,
most favored by God.” He drop the ball on the underclassman’s nose.


Vlad was tired of the killing people business.

He’d started to find the shooting and slashing, garrotting and gashing had become somewhat distasteful, and he was fed up with washing bloodstains out of his decent shirts.

He couldn’t quit though; the money was just too good.

Neither could he trust others to do his dirty work for him: You couldn’t get decent staff these days, and those who were any good were too costly.

So, he built himself a supervillain lair, complete with shark tank and trapdoor.

“Over to you, boys” he’d chuckle, as he pressed the big red button.


hey sat in silence, the three of them, in a luxurious room that was not meant for them.
“We tried.”
Outside, everyone scrambled to save themselves.
“Yes, we did.”
The icy water didn’t stop people from jumping.
“Why bother?”
“We could make it.”
“You think?”
They laughed and held up their glasses filled with the best whiskey.
And they sat in silence again.
Suddenly, they heard a deafening noise.
Water. Lots of water.
They knew the end was near.
“Bottoms up, boys!”
“Over to you…” And they looked up. They had never believed in God.
Fear changes everything, doesn’t it?


A to G Major

Some would say grandpa was a brilliant composer, but lacking imagination in other areas.

He couldn’t, for example, be bothered with naming his compositions, preferring instead to file them alphabetically in an old filing cabinet in his study.

A bit quirky, but I suppose some of the greatest composers simply gave their pieces a number… Beethoven’s Fifth, anyone?

My personal favourite was ‘Jazz Variations B to C’, but his greatest commercial success was his rock opera ‘D’.

You may not be familiar with it, but I bet you’ve heard its iconic opening number, used in countless movie soundtracks: ‘Overture U’!



A smile crawled across his face, and as he threw down a full house, Aces over Jacks, he announces, “It’s over to you.”

She hated how the Kilarkins still butchered Earth’s languages, but laying down her royal flush she responded with, “No, it’s over to you.” She could see the disappointment in his face as she only had her bra and panties left to wager.

Realizing he had lost, this towering humanoid stood and removed his last piece of clothing. She had to fight not to laugh as she now understood why all of their women were dating Earth men.


Towards the end of his news anchoring career, Don Bobson’s dementia was bad.
He’d look away from the cameras and talk to his cohorts about whatever was on his mind.
The weather, the game.
How much his latest girlfriend pissed off his ex-wife.
The station offered to buy out Don’s contract, but he refused to step down.
Cutting him loose would cause a huge stink in the community and ratings.
So, they built a second studio and hired a replacement.
Running two newscasts at the same time.
One went out on the air.
And the other, Don.
Reading to nobody.

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