Weekly Challenge #722 – Hot Potato

Zzzzz

DAVID

In a world gone wild, the stage was set for the decimation of the world record. The stadium was loud and rukous. Bets were being made in Vegas and the back rooms of laundromats. No one believed it could be done. No one but one little man from the dirty streets of Woodburn, Oregon. He alone believed he could chuck a hot potato 100 yards into the gaping mouth of a 12 year old child from bangladesh. With a wave of his potato, he silenced the crowd and eyed his distant trembling, sunbaked target and let his starchy legacy fly.

TOM

He wanted to have a cool code name. Like Raging Bear or Screaming Eagle. What he got was Hot Potato. He thought it might be some kind of a joke, but the GRU isn’t what you would call a laugh riot. This of course didn’t stop his fellow Russkey spooks from including it in ever dispatch back to Moscow. They thought it was terrible funny. Moscow didn’t get the joke, so they promoted him to section chief. With all the traffic incepts scoped up a myth grew around Hot Potato inside the NSA. Moscow scopes of the NSA made Hot Potato a legend

NORVAL JOE

Billbert’s mother watched the Ferarri following them in the rear veiw mirror. “Who is this Marissa girl?”
“She sits in front of me in math class. She’s really pretty, really rich, and super popular. I think her dad is in the mob,” Billbert said. “Earlier in the week she acted like she wanted to go to the dance with me. Then she dropped me like a hot potato when her old boyfriend, Tony, showed up.”
His mother frowned thoughtfully. “I didn’t think we had the mob here in Winklerville. What’s Marissa’s last name?”
“It’s something Italian, like, Balloni or Rigatoni.”

SERENDIPIDY

You loved your food, didn’t you?

Always taking the last helping, grabbing the largest slice of cake, helping yourself to other people’s snacks… My snacks!

I never got to lick the bowl, choose my favourite, or enjoy the last slice of pie. It was you who got the best pickings, while I did without.

They say, those who live by the sword, die by the sword, so…

We’ll start with this steaming hot potato, mashed into your fat face, followed by a nice Naga chilli rub.

And then, the pizza… Scalding hot sauce, that’ll flay your flesh from the bone!

LIZZIE

“This is a problem.”
Everyone nodded and looked at the entrance of the tunnel.
“This is a huge problem.”
Everyone nodded some more and looked at the entrance of the tunnel.
Silence.
“What if we close it down?”
All eyes landed on the unfortunate soul who uttered such nonsense.
“It’ll be the end of the town!”
Everyone looked back at the entrance of the tunnel.
“There’s a light over there,” whispered the unfortunate soul.
“We know, it’s the hole caused by the landslide.”
“There’s a light…”
“Stop it!”
The light at the end of the tunnel was not the hole.

RICHARD

Turn of phrase

“You think you’re a real hot potato, don’t you?”

I looked at my boss quizzically, “I’m sorry, I don’t quite follow?”

“And that’s your problem – you don’t follow… Instructions!”

You may have noticed my boss has, well let’s say he has an ‘interesting’ turn of phrase, so management instructions could sometimes come across as… Confusing!

“Look at you now, thinking on your feet, instead of up here”, he snarled, tapping his temple. “Now, how about you make me my coffee? Go… Push the envelope!”

How he ever got a job as Dean of the Language Faculty, I’ll never know.

PLANET Z

It’s pretty simple to cook a potato these days.
Poke a few holes in it with a fork, put it on a plate, and run it through the microwave for a few minutes.
I know some folks who slice potatoes in half, sprinkle on some salt and pepper, and put them in their toaster ovens.
Me, I prefer boiled potatoes.
Especially when they’re boiled with crawdads and corn.
The seasoning permeates the potato and gives it a lot of flavor.
I know one guy who wraps them in foil and runs them through the dishwasher.
That dude’s really weird, though.

Drugged Cakes

When Hercules went to Hell, he gave drugged cakes to Cerberus the three-headed guard dog.
Cerberus fell asleep, and Hercules got in to do whatever he had to do in Hell.
Recently, I had a rescue someone from Hell, so I tried the same trick.
Except that I got my drugged cakes and personal stash mixed up.
Cerberus got the Hostess Cupcakes, while I got a lethal dose of sleeping pills.
So, I made it into Hell. But getting out is posing a bit of a problem.
Mind coming to rescue me?
(Make sure to label your supplies clearly, too.)

I Y

We wanted to call the twins Terri with an I and Terry with a Y.
The hospital said no. The state said no.
We didn’t care. We did it anyway. Again.
Bobby with a Y and Bobbi with an I welcomed their new baby brother and sister home.
While we went upstairs to get started on what we hoped would be Sandy with a Y and Sandi with an I.
Nope.
We had triplets. Sandee with two E’s snuck in there somehow.
The school district registrar hated us.
Moreso when Danni with an I and Danny with a Y arrived.

Flying Dutchman

They say that The Flying Dutchman is a haunted ship that is doomed to sail the seas forever.
No, it is not an actual Dutch man who can fly. Because that’s Rolf P. Gunderson.
Sure, Rolf’s got one of those fancy jetpacks, and he wears a pair of carbon-fiber wings, but when he goes zooming around there’s no arguing that he’s flying.
He’s very careful about power lines, birds, and church steeples, but no insurance company will sell him a policy. Just too dangerous, they say. Too much risk.
Yet it’s an insurance company’s ad banner that he’s towing today.

Treadmill

I used to walk a lot. But the heat and weather got to me, and I stopped walking as much.
Then, I drove to work and back. No walking at all.
Got heavy. Got sick.
So, I bought a treadmill. One with a desktop for a computer or a book. Or a fan.
The boxes were huge. I had to drag them in, open them up, and unpack the parts.
Assembling it was a bitch. Then hauling the packaging to the dumpster left me a sweaty mess.
Forget walking on it. Just keep shipping me treadmills. They’re a workout alright.

Arian Foster

Arian Foster was a good running back for the Houston Texans for a few years, but a series of injuries cut into his playing time and value as a player.
He’d work with rehabilitation trainers and strength coaches in the off-season to recover, then come out for training camp, and get a season-ending injury in the preseason or the first few games.
So, the Texans let him go.
He bounced around the league a bit, until he ended up on a team, on their Injured Reserve list.
“We’ll train our medical staff on him like a cadaver,” said the owner.

Best Enemy

Marilyn Monroe sang that diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but she never sang about a girl’s worst enemy.
So many enemies to choose from, really.
Booze, Pills. A bad childhood.
And no children of her own.
Endless fame without true love.
Everybody knew her name, but nobody really knew her.
Wanting, always wanting.
And getting, getting so much, but never getting what she wanted.
Or needed.
So, she had her diamonds. Diamonds all around.
But diamonds are hard and sharp, and they cut deep.
They call her immortal, a Hollywood legend, but she’s just as dead as everyone else.

Weekly Challenge #721 – LAPSE

Cat butt

NORVAL JOE

Billbert’s mother pulled out of the McDonald’s drive through. The Ferarri pulled behind them from the curb and followed. As they got close to their home, Billbert said, “I think someone’s following us. Can you take a couple laps around the block?”
Continueing past their driveway, his mother asked, “Why would someone be following us?”
“Well, Marissa saw me fly away from the school, and she said she wants me to take her for a flight.”
“You flew away from the school? Did you have a lapse of reason?” she asked.
Billbert sighed. “It’s girls, mom. They make me crazy.”

DAVID

I was lonelier than a heavy metal tuba player. I had to get out of the friend zone and to the erogenous zone and quick. I scooted closer as we Netflixed. Then a fillatio scene developed on the screen. S0, I stole a play from the Clinton playbook and I gave a playful nudge and a knowing head nod to the tv. My two hands jestering to my crotch. My simple daring stunt could only pay copious amounts of dividends, right? It didn’t. It was a lapse in judgement. I figured, what have I to lose? Apparently, just my dignity.

SERENDIPIDY

Nobody can maintain an illusion permanently. Sometime they’re bound to lapse back into their true character, revealing themselves as they really are.

Happens to us all.

This is why you find me, skipping gaily through a spring meadow, stopping to smell the blossoms, laughing at the new born lambs as they gambol and frolic, full of the joys of life.

And later? I’ll join some friends for an impromptu picnic, by a babbling brook…

Yeah right!

I shudder at the thought, and attend to sharpening my knives; whilst you hang, bloody and whimpering in the corner, awaiting your sordid fate.

TOM

From the Doctor’s point of view Maureen lapsed into a coma. From Maureen’s point of view she suddenly appeared in the happiest place she had ever known. A deep sense of rightness directed her to a brightly bobbling sphere in the center of her vision. As she approached the sphere receded. Braking into a full-out ran the sphere suddenly appeared directly in back of her. This went on for some time. This cat and mouse didn’t bother Maureen, it was more a game of tag. “What if I just stand still,” she mused. The sphere approached, surrounded. Then everything went black.

RICHARD

Lapse

Sitting amongst the smouldering wreckage of my restaurant, I experienced a sudden moment of clarity.

This was not, as the insurers had concluded, the result of a lapse in following fire precautions – and therefore the only excuse they needed not to pay out.

Neither was it an unfortunate memory lapse in testing for flat batteries in the smoke detectors.

This was totally my fault.

It was me who thought I could outsmart the Mob; me, who purposely let the protection money payments lapse; me, that had brought this appalling retribution upon myself.

A tiny lapse of judgment. That’s all.

LIZZIE

Who was that man, everyone wondered.
He wore a long coat and pulled around a big box with wheels. The box had a small window and the kids tried to look inside. That made him mad.
Who was that man, everyone thought.
One day, he walked into the water, small waves splashing on his ankles. He stood there for a long time, the box left unattended on the sand.
Then, something happened. The lid of the box opened but no one saw anything.
However, when she reached the water, she appeared. She smiled and swam away.
Who was that man…

PLANET Z

It took thirty years for Dan Fisk to get his movie made.
The locations were all gone, bulldozed and turned into malls, parking lots, and condos.
All of the actors he’d cast were now either dead or too old to play their parts.
And de-aging technology can only do so much.
The female lead couldn’t perform gymnastics like she did in her prime at the Tokyo Games, let alone coach someone from that wheelchair.
So, he wrote a book about his agonizing, frustrating wait.
It was a best-seller.
Dan sold the movie rights.
Let someone else wait thirty years, right?

Growing Through Cobblestones

Blades of grass
Growing through cobblestones.
We pull up the stones
And then the grass.
We find the wet side of the stone
And press it back into place
How can it be
That the stones fit before
But they resist their return?
Does the street breathe?
Do the stones
Freed of their bonds
Stretch and expand?
We press each stone back into place
By hand
Or pressing rod
Never with a hammer’s blow
Because we do not want
To shatter a stone
And have to find a replacement
Which fits
Better than the stone
Which fit just fine before

Ted Cruz

What’s the difference between a sore loser and someone who stands by principles, no matter what?
I’ve got to agree with Ted Cruz on refusing to endorse the man who mocked his wife and his faith.
The concept of “party unity” after a modern mudslinging primary process is inherently dishonest.
On the same hand, Bernie Sanders claiming to be principled is a joke, too.
He is an Independent in the Senate, but ran as a Democrat.
That’s not principle. That’s opportunism.
I hold my nose, and instead of voting, I kick over the booth.
May they all burn in Hell.