George Turkel

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Instead of raiding and pillaging, he would sit back and observe his shipmates.
Sometimes, he took out a tape deck and interviewed them about their life.
Or he’d interview the villagers that they’d just attacked and looted.
Sometimes, he’d talk to slaves. Or plantation owners.
Progressive and left-wing radio stations would play his interviews.
His books weren’t best-sellers, but they were popular among the disenfranchised and the marginal.
A champion of the common man, they called him.
Or was that Studs Terkel?
I get the two of them confused.

Weekly Challenge #750: PICK TWO: a new beginning, library, Ireland, storyteller, friends, home

Basket case

LIZZIE

The deal included shipping the stuff across the ocean and delivering it safely.
But the stuff wasn’t delivered.
“What’s going on? You don’t know where Hong Kong is?”
He got off the phone and… there it was, the ship. Empty.
“Where’s the stuff? It’s worth millions.”
No one knew.
Well, the source did. They were testing everyone’s loyalty.
Hong Kong didn’t like it.
Updated offer. “Incoming delivery. Free.”
A new crew had to be hired because heads were removed from their respective bodies and shipped back.
“Now, send us the stuff. Hong Kong has more brilliant ideas. Yes, we do.”

RICHARD

The Storyteller

The storyteller gazed at us in the firelight, smiled, and eased himself into a more comfortable position.

We waited expectantly, hoping that – just for once – he’d give us something decent, something with a different ending that didn’t have the dragon being defeated, the hero marrying the girl, and everybody living happily ever after.

But, as always, it wasn’t to be.

You see, our storyteller would simply recycle the same old tale, with the same characters and the same outcomes, time after time.

He would never give us a surprise ending…

Always the same old story, but with a new beginning.

SERENDIPIDY

My circle of friends like to get together for the occasional evening of board games, and being somewhat obsessive, we like to dress up and make things as realistic as possible.

So, for snakes and ladders, everyone brought candy snakes and wore laddered tights; for Monopoly, we all got blinged-up, smoked cigars and drank champagne; and for mousetrap, we ate cheese and played using sugar mice instead of counters.

This week, we’re playing Cluedo.

I won’t tell you who the victim’s going to be, but I’ve already prepared a hefty length of lead pipe, safely stashed in the library!

NORVAL JOE

Billbert realized, he didn’t like the old man. “What do you mean, Linoliamanda’s not important? She’s my only friend.”
The man didn’t gain any points when he said, “Consider it a chance to start over. Make new friends.”
Billbert headed toward the car and super villains.
“Where are you going?” his mother asked.
“I’m getting Linoliamanda and taking her home.”
Billbert dove forward and flew, skimming, inches above the asphalt of the parking lot. He circled around behind the villains, shot forward and scooped up Linoliamanda, carrying her quickly up into the air.
She hugged Billbert tightly and kissed him.

TOM

An Ireland Tale

I went to visit my ancestral home in Ireland. Story goes my Irish forefather were doctor to the Munster Kings. Not the TV family, the kickass warriors of central Ireland. It is so far south in Cork, you danm near fall off the island. Which is just what the structure was moving toward. What the home lacked in roof it made up in walls. Stone laced with thicket of berries. The berries were wining. Folk in the village said no had live on the land for nearly a century. Still is where I came from, but not likely where I will end.

RICK THOMAS

Ridin’ The Pine

98 years old, born in Hughesville … and would die here soon enough. Never really left.

Small town … mostly farmers …
back then … and now.

At 98 … friends, neighbors, most everyone you knew … dead and gone …

Life gets lonely.

Harry liked to sit in the park, and talk with whoever would stop to listen. And Harry’s stories made it worthwhile. Harry had a story for every street, store, and vacant lot in town … New most everyone’s grandparents …

… WHEN THEY WERE LITTLE KIDS!

Born for this …
Sitting on this wooden bench …
Telling these stories had always been his destiny.

A valued community treasure!

CALEDONIA

Seanchai Sunday
by Caledonia Skytower

Something rustled in the trees like an incantation – a voice pregnant with speech. “Who’s there,” I thought, rather than asked aloud.

“I’m here.” murmured a reply, “The news has reached me. It’s in the wind.”

I marveled at the instinct that triggered this message. “What news?”

“‘Not all those who wander are lost’ the poem says. Well, we have a place for you. Come home, and be welcomed.”

The storytellers speak of fresh starts. Library volumes add to their veracity. It was time.

So we did, and thanks to a friend, a new beginning rose on the dawn horizon.

PLANET Z

I remember my first library card.
It was paper with a metal piece with some kind code they’d crimp into the book slip.
Over time, they got barcodes and a magnetic strip and those RFID chips like credit cards.
In college, I used my student ID for that and my meal plan. More for my meal plan than the library, to be honest.
Now, I just sign in from home, and download a temporary digital book or movie.
I don’t even know where the library is anymore.
They need to keep some real books or computers or stuff somewhere, right?

George the Addict

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He did an awful lot of drugs.
This affected his balance, his judgment, and fine-motor skills.
Instead of helping with battles and plundering, he spent a lot of time sitting in his bunk and giggling.
Or he’d walk up to someone and say “Did you know that God spelled backwards is dog?”
And then he’d sit down and giggle some more.
The captain sent George to rehab a few times, but George would go back on the drugs again.
At least he knew where to score the best deals.

George the Greeting Card Writer

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He wrote himself encouraging Post-It Notes, such as:
“BE THE BEST PIRATE YOU CAN BE!”
“THE SCURVY DOG GETS THE BONE!”
“A PIECE OF EIGHT IS NOTHING WITHOUT THE OTHER SEVEN PIECES!”
He stood at the mirror, practicing his menacing leers, and telling himself that he was a good pirate.
This didn’t change anything.
But George did get a side job of writing pirate greeting cards.
With every amputation and newly-installed peg leg, his shipmates also got one of his renowned Get Well Soon cards.
How nice of him.

George’s Website

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Not that you could tell that from his website: georgethepirate.net
It had a lot of animated GIFs and flashing text. Very 1996, if you ask me.
He wanted georgethepirate.com, but a domain squatter had snatched it up before he could buy it.
The Twitter account was gone, too. And the best he could get on Facebook was georgethepirate47.
Not that George had much use for social media.
He was out at sea a lot, and satellite Internet can be very expensive.
And pirate taverns rarely double as Internet cafes.

Shufflegeorge

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Instead of swabbing the deck, he resurfaced it and painted it to create a regulation shuffleboard court.
“That’s very impressive,” said the captain. “Care to play a game?”
Unfortunately, George hadn’t thought to buy a set of pucks or cues.
“Perhaps we can make do with plates and cutlasses and other objects?” he said.
After several matches, their cutlasses they used as cues and the metal plates they used as pucks had scratched up the deck considerably.
“That’s too bad,” said the captain. “How about you swab it now?”

George the Pirate Radio King

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
His crew looted a town with a low-power radio station, and George rigged up the equipment to start his own pirate radio station.
He broadcasted music that other stations wouldn’t play.
Sea shanties, hornpipes, and other pirate tunes.
George became the most beloved radio personality among pirates across the world.
When the authorities tried to shut him down, the captain would raise anchor and sail the ship back to international waters.
One night, lightning struck the antenna and fried the broadcasting equipment.
George shrugged, and started a Spotify station.

Live a little

I picked up a shit-ton of deli at Kenny & Ziggy’s.
Going to drop it all on the table at lunch, chow down, and anybody who walks by who says that looks good, sit, eat, join us, nosh a little.
Because, fuck, what’s life about?
What’s a hundred bucks worth when you’re dead in the ground?
Stack that pastrami and tongue and corned beef and chopped liver high on the challah, slap on some mustard, cut up a pickle, and live a little.
Because that’s all you get to do… live just a little.
And don’t you fucking forget it.

Not an artist

I don’t call myself an artist.
Others do, but I don’t.
I write. I photograph. I arrange things.
I look at the world, take a step to the side, and look again.
I cover one eye, and then the other.
I dream. I set my imagination free.
And when it comes back, I listen.
I listen a lot, picking out things that inspire me.
I frustrate myself and throw tantrums.
I challenge myself to do better.
But I don’t call myself an artist.
I just do what I do.
And when I am done, I do it all over again.

Weekly Challenge #749: Pick a card… any card!

Kitchen Cat

LIZZIE

The postcards came from everywhere in the world.
The director thought of finding pen pals for the residents of the home.
“Pick a card. Any card!”
Everyone was thrilled.
Everyone, except Mr. Morris whose card was the only one left. An unknown town in the middle of nowhere… “I didn’t get to pick. Now I’m stuck with this…” He waved the card in the air dismissively.
“Be grateful, Mr. Morris.”
Grateful, huh… When the police found the card Mr. Morris hadn’t picked shoved in the director’s throat, Mr. Morris was long gone… That unknown town would now become quite famous.

RICHARD

Magical

My wife took me out for a meal for my birthday – it didn’t turn out quite as she expected.

They had one of those wandering table magicians, harassing diners as they waited for their food.

“Pick a card he said… any card”

So I pulled a business card from my wallet, and slid it across the table.

“No!” he protested, “pick a card from the deck!”

I looked around, “we’re not on a ship”, I replied.

“Take a card from the ones I’m holding”, he snarled through clenched teeth.

“Or you’ll do what?” I countered.

That’s when he punched me.

TURA

Pick a card… any card!
———
General Wei went disguised among the people. In a small town, a travelling circus had set up. A conjurer spread a pack of cards to the crowd, saying, “Pick a card, any card!” General Wei took a card, and with it suddenly slashed open the face of the pickpocket behind him.

He explained to the bystanders, “As a boy, my father told me, ‘To see how the trick is done, watch his other hand.'” Pointing to the pickpocket, he said, “Behold this conjurer’s other hand!”

Thereafter, travelling entertainers avoided the town, calling it Zhùlìngshǒu, or “They Watch The Other Hand”.

TOM

Pick A Card Any Card

Funny in lockdown I created a Trick called Seven Sevens. It starts with
three people picking, a card any card, show it around, then place it face
down on the table. I the magician deal down seven cards in row. On top of
each card deal six more. Have these three turn their back. I the magician
move the selected cards under piles #3, #4, #5. The three turn towards the
table. One collects the seven pile into one. I do an elimination deal till
only 6 cards are left. I discard #1, #2, #6. Remain car are the selected.

SERENDIPIDY

Don’t look so frightened, we’re going to play a game.

You may have heard of ‘Cards Against Humanity’, well this is very similar, it’s something of my own design, given my own unique twist.

In this stack of cards, we have a whole range of scenarios that we will be acting out; and the other – a delicious assortment of weapons, tools and medical instruments.

I choose a card that dictates your eventual fate.

And you, choose one to determine how we get there.

Mine says: ‘You are to be skinned alive, using a…’

Your turn: Pick a card, any card.

NORVAL JOE

The super villains remained hidden behind their car.
“What are our options, Mom?” Billbert asked.
A gray haired old man piped up. “We don’t know what Nuclear Fission is capable of. Any action on our part is a wild card. So, take a card…”
Just then Linoliamanda stood up and turned dizzily. She wandered directly to the super villains and collapsed onto Benedict Arnold.
“Linny!” Billbert shouted, wanting to run to her aid. “She’s under their power, now.”
The old man put his hand on Billbert’s arm. “Don’t worry about it son. She’s a normal. We haven’t lost anyone important.”

RICK THOMAS

Your Fate Is In The Cards
—————————————-

Funny thing … business cards. Always offered as something that might help you, but, really just a greedy businessman trying to line his pockets with your dough.

Filthy, germ ridden, bacteria laden, disgusting cards!

I say no thanks, walk away. Every once in awhile though they don’t take no for an answer. They insist, press the dirty thing into your hand … UGH!

Now it’s personal!
I keep those!

Sealed in plastic I hold them until the time is right, I select one, and act.

Sometimes a slashed tire, broken window, or maybe a fire …

… Sometimes a bullet to the skull.

PLANET Z

I’ll pay by credit.
Pick a card, any card.
Sure, there’s different names on them, but they’re all me, I swear.
Okay, so they’re not all me now, I’m me right now, but they’re all my past and future lives.
They just happen to all exist concurrently.
I’m me right now, but I was Alice DeSantis before, and I’ll be Johnathan Grimsby next.
So, I have every right to their money… well, my money, as they do.
As do they have to mine, if I had any.
I wonder if I keep getting karmically regenerated to learn not to steal.