The next weekly challenge topic is: Shenanigans
RICHARD
Meltdown
According to the computer metrics, the core was overheating.
Sirens blared and warning lights strobed amber, steam filled the corridors, escaping from valves never intended to cope with critical pressures.
Frantic telephone calls were made by panic-stricken men, beaded with sweat, while others ran from terminal to terminal, frantically typing commands to abort.
In the lower levels, grim-faced engineers donned protective suits and masks, knowing their fate was sealed.
I hit the pause button, and made my way to the kitchen for another cold beer.
I should have chosen a comedy. Disaster movies are just too damn predictable.
LIZZIE
The guy dressed in black, black eyeliner, black nail polish, black moon tattooed on his cheek.
“Metrics,” he said.
I didn’t understand what metrics had to do with the tattoo.
“Measures of quantitative assessment,” he said.
I had questions.
The fireplace in the gazebo illuminated the cracked pavement.
“Beautiful,” he said.
For a moment, I thought he meant me. I looked frantically in all directions, assessing my quantitative measures of evasion.
He meant the moon.
This wasn’t going well, I had to admit.
Did he even notice I was there? Cracked pavement… Beautiful… More like a cracked brain, in black.
TOM
Blue Collar Blues
My Dad had many jobs in his life. But he had one job most of his life. He was four years old when Social Security was created and through those many different employments accrued the magic 40 quarters to qualify. Never got a penny of it. Government considered it double dipping. The years in the post office wiped it away. What can you do. Follow in my father’s footsteps I had many jobs and one job most of my life. I was an Educator for 20 years. My highest wage never went into Social Security. Screw from a different direction.
As to Reason for My Absence
Jim and I started podcasting in Aug. of 2005. Started with three shows a week. At my peek was doing seven a week did that for three years. I also had a play list of about 15 weekly podcasts. If I was going to add one more to the list it had to be short, way short. What could be short that a story only 100 words long. That is how I found Mr. Simon’s podcast. I had not intention of sending in a story, I came to listen. Well challenge #16 was the first one I tried. I’ve posted just north of 1000 stories.
SERENDIPIDY
Edward was a typical goth. He habitually dressed in black, with lots of chains, wore dark make-up, avoided the sun, and hung around on street corners acting terminally morose.
Even so, I had the hots for him but, as far as he was concerned, I didn’t even exist.
I tried so hard to get his attention, but still I may as well have been invisible, and eventually, I stopped making the effort.
But not before I’d pounded him into a pulp for daring to ignore me.
You can still see the cracked pavement from where I smashed his skull in.
NORVAL JOE
Billbert squeezed Samantha’s shoulders again. “I know you can do it. Bring in a tornado.”
As he said it, a massive tornado appeared over the trees. Picking up pine needles and other debris it dipped down just in front of the cabin, hopped over it, dipped again and spun away toward the mountains.
“You missed it,” Billbert shouted.
“I’m trying. I’m trying,” Sabrina cried as another tornado twisted toward the cabin. Her shoulders were growing warm against Billbert’s palms and as the cabin’s roof pulled away exposing all inside, Sabrina dropped to the ground, her face red and burning hot.
PLANET Z
Workers dug up the sidewalk because of a broken water pipe.
It took a day to fix, and there’s cones and warning tape around the hole in the walkway tonight.
People walking their dogs, not picking up the shit.
I saw a guy looking at his cell phone, his dog pulls him the wrong way, and he goes through the warning tape and into the hole.
An ambulance came… and he’s on the phone, screaming he’s going to sue.
“He’s so full of shit,” I tell a cop, “It’s his fault.”
And the cop takes down my number for later.