I don’t do it for the money.
I don’t do it for awards or rewards, or likes or faves, whatevers.
I don’t do it to belong or be accepted.
I don’t do it to be needed or wanted.
I do it because it’s what I do.
Whatever it happens to be at the moment.
I try to capture the moment, that one moment which I can never capture.
But I keep trying. I never stop trying.
Some moments last longer than others.
And when the moment ends, another begins.
Sparks and crackles from a fire.
Until the fire goes out.
Plus sized
These days, it’s rude to say that someone is fat or large, so the fashion industry calls them “plus sized.”
Which begs the question: Is there a “minus sized”? And what exactly is a size smaller than zero?
I’ve known some size zero models, and any thinner than that, they need to buy something to eat, not more clothes. Or heroin.
Do identical twins or triplets wear “multiplication sized” clothes?
What about a “divided sized”? Does that cover amputees?
Does your imaginary girlfriend wear “square root of minus one sized”?
It’s all a moot point. Most models suck at math.
Chemistry Lab
Back in Freshman Chemistry Lab, every student was handed a vial of liquid and a packet of solids.
The final exam was to determine what these were.
Water is notoriously hard to determine through tests, so it was tradition that the student who got water would celebrate their efforts by drinking it.
The problem is, some students weren’t that good at Chemistry or lab work, and they’d jump the gun and drink a toluene or an acid, and end up in the hospital.
Or dead.
As for the students snorting their solids, well, that’s a whole different level of stupid.
Freeze That Way
My mother said that if I keep making this face, it will freeze this way.
But as many times as I’ve made this face, I’ve yet to have my face freeze this way.
Even when I poured liquid Nitrogen into a bowl and immersed my face in it while making this face, my face didn’t freeze this way.
Instead, my face was frozen solid, and then it shattered after I struck it with a hammer.
Although I’ll have to take your word for it. I lost my eyes, nose, and mouth from that stunt.
For God’s sake, please kill me.
Beatings
Back when Saddam Hussein ruled Iraq, his sons Uday and Qusay would beat and torture under performing players on the national soccer team.
Also, when musicians in the Iraqi Symphony missed a note, they’d torture them.
When a ballerina stumbled during a performance of the Baghdad Ballet, the brothers were right there with a can of halal whup-ass.
Once, Saddam played Super Mario Brothers. When he was told that his princess was in another castle, Uday and Qusay stomped the cartridge and dragged the princess off to Abu Graib Prison.
All three Husseins are dead now. Have the beatings stopped?
Weekly Challenge #748: Traitor
- Lizzie
- Richard
- Serendipidy
- Norval Joe
- Tom
- Rick Thomas
- Planet Z
LIZZIE
He had copied those documents. He was a traitor. And yet, he was enjoying the show, drooling over the obscene amount of money hidden in his backpack.
The head dancer had tucked away the papers under the mattress with a nod of indifference.
He tried to kiss her, but she blocked him with an assertive arm.
On his way home, the security goon beat him to a pulp. “She is mine.”
When he got home, the cops had a search warrant.
Good thing the goon had robbed him of all his money.
Being a traitor often has its lucky moments.
RICHARD
Traitor
“It seems we have a traitor in our midst!”
Hans paced the room, his eyes boring into us, intensely probing.
“Well, rest assured, I shall find you. And, when I do…”
He drew a finger slowly across his throat, a twisted grimace on his face.
“Don’t think I won’t get to the bottom of this!”
He turned smartly on his heel and marched out, slamming the door behind him.
We breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“I told you he’d be like this,” I remonstrated, “Now, own up, before he loses it completely. Who emailed everyone the Secret Santa names?”
SERENDIPIDY
They called me a traitor, said I’d brought shame to my people. They said I’d turned my back on the cause and dishonoured my heritage.
I told them to go to hell and that I had the right to live my life as I wished, and heritage, or not, that’s exactly what I was going to do.
Coming out as a vegan when you’re a vampire isn’t without its perks however.
I became a huge celebrity and the money started rolling in.
Enough to buy up the clan’s land, before I mortgaged them into poverty.
Who’s the bloodsucker now?
TOM
Always Choices
Some called him traitor, must called him monster. I called him Dad. In the
beginning he saved 1000s of lives. In the end he let 1000s die. It wasn’t
out of malice or a case of over-reaching maglomynomicness. He started a
good man, and ended one, in his heart. It was matter of resources, then
fewer resources. Who do you save? The old and wise, the strong, the very
young, In the end it was those who could bring new souls into the world.
Since I am not one of them, last thing I see now is my father’s eyes.
NORVAL JOE
Linolamanda sat up as Billbert ran back toward her and the super villains. That was good. If she was alright, he could focus his attention on the two remaining criminals.
“Billbert. Stop,” his mother called before he could get too close to the two hiding behind the car. The tone of her voice pulled him back.
“What is it, Mom?” he asked when he reached her.
“Don’t let that man touch you. He’s Benedict Arnold. Anyone who falls under his control becomes a traitor. We have to wait for Agent Shrink Wrap to get here. Only she can isolate him.”
RICK
Traitor
Michael, the son of a friend of a friend. The dead of winter … homeless, cold, and hungry. Warren took him in.
He was giving warm clothes … Nice clothes!
He was given good meals … and was actually getting fat!
A bed to sleep in … in a heated room.
A job with Fair pay … an opportunity to advance.
Treated like family.
Accepted as family!
Confidences betrayed, house rules were broken, secrets revealed. Honesty, integrity, and honor abandoned.
Michael was a traitor!
Fool me once, shame on you …
But never again!!!
Michael’s body was found in the park, his head was never found.
PLANET Z
A good magician never reveals his secrets.
Waldo the Magnificent wasn’t a good magician.
He was the son of a margin trader up in the Hamptons.
“He’ll grow out of it,” said his mother, buying another shelf of magic books and lessons for Waldo.
They sent him to one Ivy League school after another, but he preferred to do magic instead of studying, so the administration made him disappear.
Cut off and broke, Waldo blackmailed the Magicians Guild with revealing all the trade secrets.
They buried him in New Jersey and Long Island after cutting him in half for real.
Cabo’s
Cabo’s was the perfect bar and grill.
Perfect fish tacos.
Perfect salads.
Perfect plantains and guacamole.
And the perfect margaritas.
It was perfect.
I went there a lot.
They opened a few more locations, and then, they all closed.
The last to go was the Downtown location.
I’d go there for lunch and after ballgames.
When it closed, I wept for days.
I begged The Devil to bring them back.
And he did. They reopened in a nearby mall.
But nobody told me they were there.
And they closed soon after.
It’s empty now.
Just like my wasted, empty soul.
Joined Him
They had their best years out in the ranch together.
John died in 1950.
Ethel joined him in 2130.
No, she didn’t outlive him by 180 years.
After John died, Ethel went out to the islands.
She died out there a few years later.
As the oceans rose, the islanders moved back to the mainland.
They took with them everything. Even their dead.
Someone had a Bible with her name and John’s in it.
John and Ethel Musgrove. Musgrove Ranch.
They sent her bones back home, dug a grave by John, and lowered her down as the preacher read verses.
The Unfair
Every year, the agricultural fair drew thousands.
The best corn. The best melons. The best sheep and cattle.
The best that the farmers of the state produced.
They competed for prizes.
First place to that calf, that bushel of corn, and that pig.
When the fair ended, the judges kept everything.
“Administrative costs,” said the judges.
Year after year, fair grew.
And so did the judges. Their arrogance. Their bellies. Their demands.
Then, one year, the exhibitors didn’t come.
The judges howled with rage, and demanded an explanation.
The answer was fire, sweeping across the fairgrounds, consuming the judges’ palace.
The Beards
One of the good Astros pitchers has a huge beard, so when he pitches, they have a special section of seats where they give away special shirts and clip-on fake beards.
There’s a good player with the Rockets that has a huge beard, and that team has commercials where they tell people to fear the beard, but I don’t think they do ticket specials or fake beard giveaways.
As for the Texans, they have a quarterback who has a huge beard. But he’s really awful. JJ Watt is good, but he has no beard.
A championship would be nice, too.