George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Where most pirates used their cutlasses for battle, George used his for clipping coupons.
It wasn’t easy, considering how dull the blade was, but the captain wouldn’t lend him the scissors from his desk.
“I remember the last time I lent you my scissors,” said the captain. “It took you over a week to give them back, and they were greasy and filthy.”
“I’m sorry,” said George, but he was more sorry that the fine for the unlicensed barber shop had been greater than what he’d made in tips.
George’s photographs
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
So, he took photography.
At first, the other pirates made fun of him, but after a while, the pirates checked out his Instragram feed.
George piled up a lot of likes and shares, and pirates from all around asked for George to photograph their adventures and exploits.
It was a good gig, but George wanted to give it up and do more pirate stuff again.
“Sorry, George,” said the captain. “You’re too good at this to give it up.”
The captain then had George photograph him at his desk.
George sets high standards
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” said the captain. “Not everyone can be a Blackbeard or a Jack Sparrow.
It’s unfair to compare yourself to legends and icons, mind you.
You’ll always fall short of their achievements.
Instead, set reasonable goals, and then challenge yourself to do better by a little bit each time.
Does that make sense?”
George pondered this advice, thanked the captain, and walked away.
Over the raining and into the water.
“Okay, maybe you should be hard on yourself,” said the captain. “You’re an idiot.”
George is half full
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
When asked if a glass was half-empty or half-full, George picked up the glass and drank it.
“It’s empty now,” said George. “Can I have more water?”
The psychologist running the experiment told George that wasn’t the point, and he refilled the glass halfway again.
George picked it up again and drank it.
“Thank you,” said George. “But wouldn’t it be easier if you just gave me a full glass of water?”
“It might spill,” said the psychologist.
“Oh, okay,” said George. “Can I have my five bucks now?”
Weekly Challenge #883 – PICK TWO Cracked pavement, Double dip, Goth, Educator, Overheating, Metrics
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.
George’s Shadow
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
In order for him to learn how to be a better pirate, the captain had him shadow another pirate through his daily routine.
“Take notes,” said the captain.
So, George followed the other pirate around and watched him tie knots, sharpen his sword, swab the deck, and clean cannons.
At the end of the day, George reflected on all he’d seen and heard.
But he didn’t learn a thing, and while he was trimming a sail, he got tangled in the rigging.
The captain made him wear a duncecap.
George gets ice
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Little things frustrated him, like the fact that his crewmates would never refill the ice trays in the freezer after they got ice.
“Can’t we get an ice maker?” George asked the captain.
They headed ashore and raided a Motel 6, and they plundered its ice machine.
The plan worked brilliantly. Ice available any time he needed.
But they installed it next to his bunk, and the constant noise kept disturbing his sleep.
He ended having to get a hotel room… at the Motel 6 without an ice machine.
George marooned
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He found himself marooned on a dessert island.
That’s dessert with two S’s, not one.
It was an island made out of dessert.
Sugary sand, marzipan palm trees, chocolate rocks, and peppermint twigs.
There was a marshmallow mountain in the center of the island.
And it had caves full of gummi bears.
George cut down the trees and made a raft, using the gummi bears as glue.
It took two days at sea to find land.
George thanked God, and then he realized he was marooned on another island.
George the merchandise
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
In spite of this, George had a lot of merchandising deals.
George teddy bears filled the gift shops in Port Royal.
Kids wore officially-licensed George eyepatches, even though George didn’t wear an eyepatch.
The bandanas practically flew off of the shelves.
When George came back to port, usually by rowboat because his ship had been sunk, people crowded around him and asked him for his autograph on things.
George signed everything. For a price, of course.
So he could buy a new ship and get the hell away again.
Mayor George
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
But he had name recognition among pirates, so he figured he should use that to run for a public office.
“Mayor sounds good,” said George. “Mayor George.”
“Port Royal has a Governor, not a Mayor,” said the captain. “And the Governor is appointed by the King.”
“Well, no wonder why things are so awful,” said George.
George began his campaign in earnest, putting up posters and holding rallies.
He won easily, having run unopposed.
“Congratulations,” said the captain. “Now what?”
George shrugged and went back to swabbing the deck.