Uncle Edwin

We are predisposed to see faces in things.
We see a face on the moon, a face in the clouds, and faces in the water.
We also see faces in the furniture and machinery and other devices we make, but that’s not quite the same.
Some of those faces are deliberately there to spark some kind of visceral connection between us and that product.
So we connect to it and buy it, I suppose.
The faces you see tacked to the wall in the basement, however, are actual faces.
Your Uncle Edwin doesn’t much like trespassers.
Or nosy little brats.

Weekly Challenge #740 – What’s that on the radar?

Nest

LIZZIE

The dot on the screen appeared and disappeared. Damn radar. The next shift would take care of it.
Everyone had turned in for the night and the city lights had been dimmed down. His favorite time of day. He walked by himself. And that was the last walk he took.
They appeared in white robes and masks. They treated everyone like cattle.
They always said this was a planet… It wasn’t. It was a ship that had completed its mission. The people were nothing but lab rats. And life would never be the same again. The radar was shut off.

RICHARD

Blip

The call to battle stations rang out and all hell suddenly broke loose!

Half blind, I stumbled through the chaos, sirens blaring and flashing red lights confusing and disorientating me as I ran to my post. Typical, I thought to myself, it couldn’t have picked a worse moment to happen!

Squinting in the dim light of the bridge, I received my briefing: “Unknown vessel in the protected zone”.

He pointed to the screen: “You’re the expert, what’s that on the radar?”

I peered at the glass, leaning even closer, then smiled.

So that’s where my contact lens had got to!

TURA

What’s that on the radar?
———
“What’s that on the radar?” I said. “Twenty km, dead ahead.”

Everything that flies up here has an ID transponder, so we don’t have to guess about dots on the screen.

“ALN01,” said my copilot, grinning secretively. “What could that mean?” He tapped for the detailed report.

“Alien craft” it said. “Top secret. Keep under observation. Do not engage. Report for debriefing immediately on landing.”

“Er,” I said. “Is this for real?”

“You’re in on the secret now,” he said. “I guess I can tell you about them. We call them Identified Flying Objects.”

We had an interesting flight home.

SERENDIPIDY

ou know that film? The one where the aliens are advancing towards your location, and you’re tracking them as they come, until, finally, they’re upon you and there’s nowhere to run?

Well, my little game is a bit like that.

Now you’re firmly restrained, I want you to watch the screen in front of you.

What’s that on the radar? Those green dots moving steadily in this direction?

Those are rats. Hungry, starving rats and they’ve caught your scent… The scent of food!

They’ll be coming through the door very soon, but not before I’m long gone.

Here they come!

NORVAL JOE

Billbert descended the stairs, Linoliamanda’s hand in his, wondering what his parents would think. His father worked at a computer while his mother read a book.
Billbert cleared his throat. “Linoliamanda came over to tell me something. I’m going to walk her home.”
“Just walking, right?” his father asked.
Billbert was about to respond when the computer pinged.
His mother looked up. “What’s that on the radar, dear?”
“Billbert,” his father said. “You two better have a seat. This doesn’t look good.”
His mother hurried to his father’s desk. Bending over his shoulder she said, “That’s not good at all.”

JUSTIN

The radar showed something right where he expected it. Ever since the oceanic transposition event he’d done so much research. And it all led here, unsurprisingly, the Bermuda Triangle.

He plunged into the sea, and at the bottom there it was. He rested his hand on the massive entity.

“Why did you stop giving is the dream of Mr. Mushroom?” he thought.

The reply reverberated in his mind. “It was to prepare you, and when the time came, you succeeded.”

“Why is everything so bad then?”

“Find my sibling, the one making everyone dream the dark dream that nobody remembers.”

TOM

Mushroom

Long ago my grandson SNZ was called SNL. People performed on a thing called a stage. There was a character called Emily Litell who’s bit was doing malapropos. Funny stuff. And Music was played in huge room. Right in front of the band was an area set aside for fans to mush together. Imagine people actually mushing together. They call it a Mushroom. Oh those were days … Gramps it wasn’t a Mushroom, it was called a mush pit. wall of death pogo windmilling, two stepping, floorpunching, picking up pennies, axehandling and bucking wheelbarrowing. Demolition Dance. Never Mind.

Story with no name, it was good to get out of the rain, no one can remember your name.

Lt. Baxser what’s that on the radar? “Bird Sir.” “Birds?” “Sir, yes sir.” “Are those screen set to scale?” “Sir yes Sir.” “Could we please reduce the numbers Sirs” Sir yes Sir.” “Never mind.” “Sir ..” “If that screen is correct that there bird is the size of Nebraska.” “Sir that’s big bird?” “Big Bird.” “Yes sir, sir.” “Like Sesame Street.” “Kinda.” “Kinda what.” “Sir that is what the Russian call her, sir.” “Her?” “Sir long story, Sir.” General TickMaster reached across the control panel and press the orange button. “Not no more,” said he and left the mushroom.

PLANET Z

There’s something on the radar.
A bit of ketchup, maybe?
That fat pig Corporal Blake was always eating at his station, and today’s lunch was a burger and fries.
And ketchup.
Packets and packets of ketchup
Tearing them open, oozing all over.
The screen, the keyboard, the buttons.
He never cleaned up after himself, that fat pig.
The morning shift complained about Blake all the time.
But the base commander never did anything.
Wasn’t Blake the commander’s nephew or something?
So, they ran a drill.
Blake choked on his burger.
Carried off on a sretcher, fry still in his hand.

Gifted

Our anniversary is coming up.
She prefers practical gifts, not fancy.
So, I bought her Uggs.
To make sure they fit, we traded feet and I went shopping.
Back home, she unwrapped the shoeboxes, and put her own feet back on with the new boots.
I’ve gotten her pedicures this way too.
Manicures and rings by trading hands.
We traded more so I could get her legs waxed, buy panties.
I borrow her breasts to buy bras.
Which don’t fit.
Oh. Right.
Shoulders. Chest, Back.
“Don’t forget the receipt,” she says, handing me a low-cut blouse.
She’s such a tease.

Phone Exchange

Back before microchips and transistors, telephones required operators of a switchboard to plug cables into sockets.
Edith was the daytime operator in Macon Falls, and she liked to listen in on people’s conversations.
She’d tell her friends about what she’d heard.
Well, she called them her friends, but after she’d listened in on everyone in town, she didn’t have any friends.
When she was fired from the telephone exchange, nobody spoke up for her.
She got a job in the next town over, bagging groceries.
She applied for a job at the local phone exchange.
But she got no answer.

The demons you let out

I think a lot of things.
Just because I think a few dark things, when I choose not to voice or document them, did I still come up with those dark thoughts?
By voicing them, do I embrace them fully, and that’s what I am?
There’s so many things I could say, so many different thoughts and directions.
Some positive, some negative, and some just outright horrible.
I am not the demons in my head, am I?
No. Only the ones I let out now and then.
As long as you keep them on a leash, the city ordinance says.

Window Washers

Leslie lived in a high-rise condo, and every time the window washing crew appeared, she’d put on a show for them.
The resident association complained that the window washing company tried to charge the building for overtime.
Not only did they take an extended break when they got to Leslie’s window, but they had to go back and clean it again.
Leslie paid the fines with tips she got from the window washers.
One day, while watching Leslie perform with a teddy bear and a zucchini, a window washer accidentally fell to his death.
He landed face-down, preserving some dignity.

Braided

Fear is a horrible thing,
First one disappearance. Then two.
Then half a dozen.
No bodies were ever found.
The police put out a warning:
The kidnapper only stalked women with braided hair.
Women rushed to the salons to get their hair cut short.
One woman defiantly refused. She had her hair done up in pigtails.
“What’s he going to do?” she said. “Kill me twice?”
She disappeared the next day.
Vanished while jogging.
She was the last to disappear.
Some said that she was the kidnapper.
Others say that she was an accomplice.
Still, nobody braids their hair anymore.

The Puppy

Cassie saw the injured puppy by the side of the road.
It had been hit by a car.
She bundled it up in her purse and took it to the vet.
The vet mended the puppy’s wounds.
They bonded instantly, Cassie and the puppy, and from that day on, the two were inseparable.
Eight years later, Cassie backed out from her garage and ran over her dog.
This time, there would be no rushing to the vet.
The dog was dead.
Cassie was inconsolable. She wept for days.
The neighbors complained, until one got a shovel and buried the dog.

Weekly Challenge #739 – MUSHROOM

Lapcat

LIZZIE

She found a small jar in her granny’s attic. Something sparkled inside.
She placed it back on a shelf and left without telling anyone anything about it.
When her granny died, she went back to the attic.
When she opened it, a swirl of light turned everything into a neon palette of greenery.
She read the small paper stuck to the bottom – “Mushrooms, theirs.”
“Theirs?”
The following night, she was visited by them. The weird ones no one knew about, the aliens.
The attic… well, she turned it into a museum where everyone would see… things that didn’t really exist.

RICHARD

Rubbish jobs

I’ve never really fitted in here at the Weapons of Mass Destruction Tactical Development Division.

I’ve more experience and I’m probably more highly qualified than most of my colleagues, but they can never seem to see past my squint and squeaky voice.

So I get all the rubbish jobs.

While they get to blow things up, play with new technology and generally have a whole lot of fun in the process, I’m left with the stuff that nobody cares about.

Take the current project I’ve been tasked with…

I’m making the mushroom clouds on next generation nukes a pretty colour!

TURA

Mushroom
———
On the Underground platform at Oxford Circus, the only other passengers are a six-foot-tall mushroom and a Japanese salaryman. He topples rigidly onto the third rail and explodes into a cloud of butterflies speaking your name.

A vending machine sells true love, but you do not have the right change.

The carnivorous wall tiles chatter evilly to each other, straining to break free of the cement.

A giant cannonball appears on the rails, moments before it rolls out of the tunnel and stops there.

The hallucinations stop when the mushroom climbs into the cannonball and rolls off down the tunnel.

SERENDIPIDY

Disposing of the bodies is my biggest challenge. I don’t go in for burial, disposal at sea or anything like that. It’s too risky, and there’s always a chance that a stray body part might turn up somewhere.

I prefer to render down my victims, and I’ve converted the cellar into an acid bath system of industrial proportions.

I call it, ‘The Mush Room’, because all that’s left in the end, is mush!

You might wonder what I do with it next?

I simply add a few chemicals, pour into moulds and let it set.

Fancy candles for aromatherapy boutiques!

NORVAL JOE

Linoliamanda didn’t seem phased by her father’s angry tone. She held the phone out so Billbert could hear, too. “I’m at Billbert’s house. There was a misunderstanding and I needed to speak with him right away.”
Her father harrumphed and then a dog barking sounded clearly from the phone.
Linoliamanda gasped. “Oh. Daddy. Please let Mushroom out. She needs to do her business.”
“You can come home and let your dog out yourself,” her father grumbled and hung up.
When she didn’t rush out, Billbert asked, “What about your dog?”
She smiled. “Daddy will do it. He’s such a kidder.”

PLANET Z

Remember the old kids’ show Mister Mushroom?
Year after year, the show swept the Daytime Emmy Awards.
Other shows tried to lure away his producers, his directors, his writers.
But as long as he had the sponsors, he had the money.
And nobody paid like Mister Mushroom paid.
Then, one day, at the end of a show, he took a bow and went out to his car and drove away.
He never came back, and nobody ever saw him again.
Where did he go?
Nobody knows.
Maybe we all just dreamed of him.
And you wake up from the dream.

Statue

They say that you should put a beautiful woman high up on a pedestal.
And that’s where I found her.
Because she was statuesque.
The most beautiful statue in the world.
Absolutely perfect.
And I wanted to make her mine. Forever.
At the auction, I tried to buy her.
But I was outbid.
“You will never own her,” said the agent.
If I can’t have her, nobody will.
So, I picked up a crowbar from her crate, and smashed her.
And I ran.
I haven’t completely lost her.
I still have her hand.
And a ring to put on it.