The next weekly challenge topic is: Range
RICHARD
Dress sense
In no way could you possibly consider me a style icon. Unless your idea of style is messy, comfortable slobbishness!
Fashion is certainly not my forte, and anything even remotely stylish in my wardrobe owes more to luck than judgement.
Most of the time, it’s jeans, and crumpled t-shirt. Despite that, I think I cut quite a dashing figure in a suit. That is, when I can be bothered, or the situation merits getting dressed up.
And it doesn’t happen all that often.
Usually, somebody has to die.
But, when they do, I’m always the best-dressed at any funeral.
LIZZIE
They made her wear a long checkered coat that matched the background.
“Color. Style. It’s intentional, darling,” said the director.
The multitude of patterns gave her a headache.
Then, they added a huge hat. “For balance,” they said.
“This is very Alice-like,” she muttered.
The director smiled a condescending smile.
“Ever directed a play, darling?”
“No.”
“Well then… This stage. It’s different! New!”
“What?! It’s a ripoff from Burton’s!”
“Out,” shouted the director. “Out, now!”
OK, time to call Mr. B and let him know he was right. This copycat wouldn’t be calling anyone else “darling” for a long time.
TOM
Flower Schism
The deadliest of our species are members of the Ladies Church Flower Guild. Lightning fast to act, with no compunction to rain-down rigorous death on usurpers. I have seen bishops brought to their knees. Vatican Emissaries shipped back to Rome in boxes. But nothing compares to the Flower Schism of 1968 when Mary Elizabeth Murray went after Mary Margret Edwards. It was biblical throw-down. When the dust clear only a handful of altar boys were left. My last act in that church with ecclesiastical vestments dripping read, was to place the remaining flower on the bodies outside the burning church.
my absence
My friend, god rest his soul, oped-in on Starlink beta test. Little did we know that that account was connected to a credit card that had been seriously max-ed out. So Starlink killed the service. I spent hours searching the Starlink web site for any form of customer service. Then any billing department links. Then any email at all, none. A company with no functioning contact information, not even a PO Box. There was no one and no way to get the service moved over to a new card. What kind of idiot starts a company with no billing department, oh Elon Musk.
Flower Schism
The deadliest of our species are members of the Ladies Church Flower Guild. Lightning fast to act, with no compunction to rain-down rigorous death on usurpers. I have seen bishops brough to their knees. Vatican Emissaries shipped back to Rome in boxes. But nothing compares to the Flower Schism of 1968 when Mary Elizibeth Murray went after Mary Margert Edwards. It was biblical throw-down. When the dust clear only a handful of altar boys were left. My last act in that church with ecclesiastical vestments dripping read, was to place the remaining flower on the bodies outside the burning church.
SERENDIPIDY
Slowly, you become aware of your surroundings. The pain in your head is severe and you feel the warm, stickiness of blood matting your hair.
There’s a ringing in your ears and you feel detached from your surroundings as you struggle to focus on the things around you.
You’re seeing double, and the world has become unclear and very distant.
You become aware of a blurry figure stood before you, and slowly, horribly, realisation dawns.
I raise the shotgun again, you’re staring down the barrel, and – as if from a great distance – you hear my voice…
“Ready for round two?”
NORVAL JOE
Billbert figured he could double down on acting confident and he thrust out his hand. “Here. Let me look at that scroll.”
The old man almost fell for it but jerked back the brittle role of parchment before Billbert could see what was written on it.
Billbert shook his head sadly. “Give me some help here, Sabrina. You’re the witch after all.”
She began to open her mouth, but the old man cut in instead. “She may be the witch, but she’s a weak one, except when in contact with you. You, young man, magnify and balance the witch’s power.”
PLANET Z
She balanced the flower basket on her head as she walked down the street.
A sign in the basket… roses for sale.
And a rose clenched between her teeth.
She’d motion for the tourists to put the money in their mouth.
And slowly, hands at her sides, she’d pass them the rose while taking the money.
By the time she got to the end of the block, her basket would be empty, and her pockets were full.
She’d walk into the bar at the corner and wash her mouth out with a glass of whiskey.
Filthy tourists. Do they brush?