In the room…

When people are ignoring something important, some people say “There’s an 800-pound gorilla in the room.” Or “There’s an elephant in the room.” And a few still say “There’s an n-word in the woodpile.”
The problem is, there is an 800-pound gorilla in the room. And an elephant. And an African American in the woodpile. It’s rude to say n-word these days. But if you ask the guy sitting in the woodpile, he prefers that you just call him “Steve.”
Instead of avoiding the issue, I pick up the phone and call the front desk.
“I’d like another room, please.”

No bribe uncounted

One candidate said that he would leave no stone unturned in the hunt for corruption.
The other candidate said that she would go no holds unbarred in the hunt for corruption.
They sparred constantly during the campaign.
The winner ended up leaving no stone unbarred in the hunt for corruption.
While the loser spent the next two years accusing the winner of failing to leave no hold unturned.
When the microphones were off, both would check their pockets for the money that had been slipped in there.
Whatever their campaign claims and lies, they ended up leaving no bribe uncounted.

They say

Fisk says that Arabs are Semites, so they can’t be anti-Semitic.
Fisk says that they can’t be terrorists because they’re resisting occupation.
By killing women.
By killing children.
By killing the elderly.
So, I call them Jew Haters.
I call them bloodthirsty barbarians.
I call them murderers.
I call them genocidal maniacs.
I call them animal predators.
I call them brainwashed deathcultists.
Then Fisk calls me a hater.
Do I hate the people who want to kill me?
Who teach their children to hate and want to kill me?
Come close, Fisk. Closer.
And let me spit in your face.

Weekly Challenge #758 – PICK TWO: piano, mongoose, tower, cartoon, evil, serve

Catnip

LIZZIE

The faint sound of a piano reminded her that she had to change…
From her tower of self-righteousness, she knew everything better than anyone. But she felt hopeless. She couldn’t reach out. Pack up your past and put it away now, she thought. This is not what you want. You want to be happy. But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. It was far too late. She had to put up that front. She knew better, she was smarter, she just was.
The faint sound of a piano made her cry. She was so lonely and it was everyone else’s fault.

RICHARD

Morty

Morty, the cartoon mongoose, was not my greatest creation. Kids just couldn’t relate to him, and many of them struggled to identify just what species of animal he actually was.

Some thought he was a meerkat, others a ferret, whilst a bunch of them turned to the internet for a school project and would serve up mongoose facts totally discrediting his animated antics.

Kids – they’re just plain evil.

Morty’s career was cut short by the network, so I finished him off in his final episode by dropping a grand piano on him from a tower block!

That’s all folks!

SERENDIPIDY

I love cartoons!

I think it’s fantastic the way they can get away with extreme violence, and portray the most evil antics, yet call it children’s entertainment, and although I’m not exactly a child any more, I spend a lot of my leisure time glued to the television, enjoying the crazy cartoon scenes unfolding in front of me.

They’re a great source of inspiration, and I’ve filled a number of notebooks with details of the stunts I’ve observed.

Eventually, I plan to try them all on those unfortunate enough to fall into my clutches.

And, maybe, I’ll film it too!

TOM

A towering success

Do have any idea the worth of an old upright piano? Not talking a baby grand or grand grand. Further not talking a lovely care for family heirloom. Just an old out of toon piece of word and brass. Yup you can pick them up for a song (forgive the metaphor). I got about 20. So what am I going to do with them? I’m building a piano tower. Hope to get into Guinness world record. There’s a guy in Albania who got an 18. To keep stability I’m bolting on old typewriters. Underwoods are a dime a dozens.

NORVAL JOE

“Wiener Dog Man,” one of the men in sunglasses scoffed. “That makes me think of a cartoon hero with a cape trying to serve the community by fighting evil.”
Dergle nodded. “Okay. That’s not far off.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Vander Hoont,” Billbert said. “What exactly are the powers of the wiener dog?”
Dergle stood up straight. “Dedication, tenacity, and confidence, among others.”
The agent sniffed. “Those sound like characteristics, not super powers.”
Dergle shrugged. “Call them what you want. I’m confident that I will not let you take this boy with you. I will defend him tenaciously and with dedication.”

TURA

Evil, tower
———
The evil wizard Shoonlak built an Obsidian Tower in which were embedded the still-living bones of his enemies.

The good wizard Angloin built a Crystal Tower, whose shining summit was a beacon of hope.

The mad wizard Leri built a Tower of his madness, that none but he can see, but those who pass near are seized by visions that carry them away in their talons.

The iron wizard Elon built a Steel Tower, which some say is a great rocket engine, and which, when it takes off, will incinerate the other Towers. For what is mere magic, against Science?

RICK THOMAS

Dream Home

All his life Larry said his home must have three things … A tower, fireman’s pole, and a gargoyle. To his neighbor’s dismay the zoning commission reluctantly approved his request, and the gothic monstrosity was completed.

AC, fireplace, full bar, observation deck.

Decorative motif … Torture chamber.

Chains and shackles embedded in the walls, creepy old surgical tools framed and hung as art, branding irons lay on each side of the fireplace.

The bar was a fully functional rack.

Larry was well pleased, but knew, his dream was yet unfulfilled … until he had a victim chained to the wall … screaming for mercy.

PLANET Z

The old man in the tower likes to play his piano at night.
The music carries all throughout the village.
“I do it as a service,” says the old man.
The villagers disagree.
“He’s not very good a piano player,” they say. “And it’s hard to sleep through it.”
They gather pitchforks and torches and storm the tower.
And they burn the piano.
The old man grumbles, hires some workers, and the next night, he’s on the ramparts playing the bagpipes.
And there’s a new moat around the tower. With crocodiles in it.
He smiles, and plays the bagpipes louder.

The good twins

Willy and Billy were identical twins, born to a nice Catholic couple.
They were raised in the church, baptized and taught all they needed to know.
They were good kids, and Willy and Billy never had anything to confess.
They didn’t even pretend to be the other twin to fool people.
“This is just too good to be true,” said Father Williams.
So, he tried to get them to snitch on each other.
But they had nothing to say.
“I guess they’re perfect then,” said Father Williams.
He tossed a coin to determine which to sacrifice for the Dark Mass.

Remind me of the dead

You remind me of the dead.
They were once alive, and happy.
Then something changed.
Something always changes.
Life is change.
When change stops, when nothing changes, life itself stops.
And death is there.
Death is always there, when nothing changes anymore.
When you say you don’t want to change, you are saying you want to be dead.
The dead don’t change. They stay that way forever.
Oh, we might tell your story and stretch the truth.
A little. Or a lot.
But that’s not change.
That’s the truth, rotting away, just as you rot.
In the hands of death.

Hairomatic

The Hairomatic is a brilliant device.
Put it over your head, push start, and it styles your hair perfectly.
You can choose from a dozen preset styles, or add more stylepacks with a subscription service.
Hackers modified the encryption locks to allow third-party hairstyles.
Dark Web sites offered thousands of styles.
Search a television show or movie, yeah, I want that style… and three minutes later, it was yours.
Hairomatic made billions, but there were the lawsuits.
Error-correction algorithms didn’t always prevent accidents.
And more than one customer found themselves scalped.
And the bald ended up with shattered, mangled skulls.

Hexenbrenner

Massacres spread across the continent, across the ocean, and the new lands.
The Bishop-Prince, they call him Hexenbrenner: The Witch Burner.
In one town alone, hundreds of women captured, tortured, and burned.
And then, his greatest triumph.
The capture of The Witch Queen.
She cast a curse upon the Prince.
He took it as her confession, and tied her to the wooden stake himself.
The townspeople brought the kindling and laid it at her feet.
She laughed as she burned, and a thick black smoke spread from the town center.
People, clutching their throats, unable to scream, suffocating in waves.

The Creepy Election

Halloween before a major election is never fun.
The stores sell masks of the major candidates.
People go to bars in their costumes, get drunk, and a fight breaks out.
Or some kid goes door to door, someone says something snide, and the parents have at it.
At least Thanksgiving comes after the election, so the family can come together and be thankful that it’s over.
Until someone brings up the loser… or the winner.
And that explains the rise of electric knife “accidents” across the country.
Pass the rolls… so I can stuff one in your big fat mouth.

Who weeps?

Who weeps for Merithne Grundle?
Not her mother, who bore her?
Or her father, who sold her into servitude?
Her brothers and sisters, glad to be rid of another mouth to feed when their stomachs were already rumbling from hunger before her arrival, and that much more afterwards?
She has no memory of them now, only the memory of the plow, the basket, and the fields.
To the master’s house.
To the master’s bed.
To the master’s embrace.
They find her the next day, covered with the master’s blood, holding a bloody knife.
Who weeps for Merinthe Grundle?
We do.