The next topic is Blood is thicker than water
NORVAL JOE
The tree, struck by lightning, burned and sizzled as rain and wind slashed against the window of Sabrina’s room.
The nurse’s frown faded to an apologetic smile. “If it was in my hands, I’d let you stay. But these are the rules, cut and dried.”
“I expected as much.” Billbert made to leave.
“No!” Sabrina snapped, squeezing his fingers. “Keep your hand in mine!”
The nurse folded her arms. “Okay. You have until I give report in about forty-five minutes.”
Billbert glanced at her name tag. “Thanks, Nurse Racquet. Can I come back tomorrow, earlier?”
She sighed. “I guess so.”
SERENDIPIDY
Here’s where I keep them, sealed away tightly in airtight boxes to keep out the humidity.
Cut and dried into cubes, the desiccation process preserves all the flavour, but makes storage simple and none of those nasty smells to deal with.
Then, when I have guests for dinner, I simply rehydrate a few cubes overnight and use them to make stock, or simply crumble them over the meal, to add a nice piquancy to the food.
Delicious!
I think so, anyway.
My guests, sometimes disagree.
So I slit their throats, and use their bodies for the next batch of seasoning.
TOM
here in jungle-land 945 859 860
The children of the unforgiven tooled broken express lanes. No time to be expected. Enter longing, regret hot shame. In her hand was his redemption, In his hand was the echo of pain. Whined out a fiery engine cut and dried in the furnace’s reframe. She knew no reason to wait in the darkness. He was her savior, her light, her flame. This flight was his last. Wheels pounding in the rain. A wall of law behind them a wall of law ahead. Desiccation of hope hardens the heart, but concrete blockers will end the game. Here in jungle-land.
A line of lawmen, a wall of cars and a hail of bullets in wait. Just at the edge of eyesight the Rat was making his run. Like the speediest falling star, brief and doomed, he never really had a choice, gun the engine at that blue line, and lose. Music was spilling out the window in some broken down Homeric hymn. The barefoot girl keep time with its mournful beat that mark the last full measure of her empty life. In the end it was just the sound of metal, then a silence you could cut with a knife.
The rasping of rain in the gutters. Thumbs setting safeties, up turn barrels in the night. A trail of smoke above a trail blood below. Crossing the heart of the city one less rebel ment one less reason to fight. In morning would there be a pray for the rat? Would his passing even be noted? Would a mother cry for her child? For a good girl gone bad. When the song is finally written who is forgotten who is not? Only the strong stay strong and the meek fade way. Burn bright the children of night here in jungle land.
LIZZIE
The guy stole my headset, and then the gun magically appeared in my hand and I just had to shoot. I knew the detective wasn’t buying my loony bin strategy… My lawyer told me to shut up, but I just had to talk. And I went on and on about voices, lots of voices “can’t you hear them?!”. My lawyer said “shut up” again, but I just had to keep talking. In court, my lawyer turned to me and said “Voices?! Did you hear my voice??” And then I was given life. Perhaps I should write a book about voices!
RICHARD
Express Checkout
I really don’t know why I bother!
Every single time, it’s always the same: I pop in to the store, rushing as always, and up against the clock.
So, of course, I choose the express checkout, as I always do, and – as I always do – I regret it, almost immediately.
The guy with more than ten items; the woman with annoying kids, demanding sweets and gum; the idiot, struggling to swipe their credit card, or fumbling for change.
All of them delaying the line, each one a blocker to my rapid exit.
Express checkout, my arse!
Slower than the others!
PLANET Z
Every morning, Harry took the express train to work.
He had been taking the local route, but after timing all the stops and delays, he saved a few minutes by driving to the next town over and boarding there for the express.
Sure, it took a little more gas, but when the station offered free charging, he traded in his car for an electric and let it charge all day while he was at work.
Henry was so proud of himself, until the express missed a signal and slammed into a garbage truck.
His blood-soaked briefcase landed in the weeds.
CHATGPT
The express train rumbled through the desert, where desiccation had reduced the landscape to dust. In my hand, I clutched a letter with “urgent” stamped on it. The message was clear: return home immediately. The situation wasn’t as cut and dried as I’d hoped. Dad’s health was failing, the letter said, and I was expected to make a choice I’d dreaded. My heart felt like a blocker was squeezing it, but I knew what I had to do. The train screeched to a stop at my station, and I stepped onto the platform, bracing myself for what awaited me.