You can’t always

The Rolling Stones say that you can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you get what you need.
This is coming from a band that has always gotten what it wants for over fifty years.
Pussy. Booze. Drugs. Midget clowns on fire.
Whatever the hell they want, they get it.
If it doesn’t exist, someone invents it on the spot.
Even the drummer, Charlie Watts, gets whatever the hell he wants.
The fucking drummer!
No other drummer in any other band gets what they want.
Such arrogance. What they need is a smack in the mouth.

The Dancer Dances

Whenever the Moscow Ballet performed in New York, security services told the dancers that if they defected, they would never see their families again.
This didn’t bother Irina. She’d be escaping her wicked Uncle Vanya.
So, she didn’t mind that threat at all, and she escaped through a bathroom window at the theater.
“I defect!” she shouted at the cameras.
The Russians raised a stink, but Irina got her way.
She joined the New York City Ballet, and settled in with a foster family.
Until one day, The Russians sent a gift:
“Hello, pretty,” said Uncle Vanya. “Dance for me.”

If he had

If Mohamed Bouhlel had run over Jews in Jerusalem, Mahmoud Abbas would call him a martyr.
If Mohamed Bouhlel had run over Jews in Jerusalem, Mahmoud Abbas would dedicate a monument to him.
If Mohamed Bouhlel had run over Jews in Jerusalem, Mahmoud Abbas would paying his family a thousand dollars, your tax dollars, to his family as a reward. Every month.
If Mohamed Bouhlel had run over Jews in Jerusalem, Mahmoud Abbas would encourage children to follow his example.
But Mohamed Bouhlel ran over people in Nice, so Mahmoud Abbas condemned him.
How noble of that terrorist bastard, right?

The City of Hate

They call Dallas the City of Hate.
After Kennedy was shot and killed there.
Is that the metric for hate?
Shooting presidents?
Well, in that case, a president was murdered in Buffalo.
McKinley, right?
Why is that not the City of Hate?
McKinley was shot just as dead as Kennedy, right?
And what about Washington DC?
Two presidents were shot and killed there.
Lincoln and Garfield.
Several more shot at.
Jackson, Reagan, and Ford.
Anybody else? Am I missing someone?
Washington DC, by far, earns the City of Hate title.
Not that the others are all that loving, mind you.

Weekly Challenge #720 – HANKERING

Myst

LIZZIE

Going back, that’s all she thought about, going back and sitting on that bench under the pergola, under the sky, close to her dreams…
She used to have dreams. She used to sit there and smile, looking up and enjoying the colors of the sunset. She used to think life was whatever she wanted it to be.
She was far away now, so far away, too far away. She looked at the sky but the colors weren’t the same. She wondered if the bench was still there.
Then, she heard the sirens. It was time to move… and hide… again.

TURA

PICK TWO: quirk, pride, exposed
———
The querkleyhew (Querculus arrigiosus) is the pride of the tree-lined avenues of London. It sheds its boughs wherever they extend more than a few yards from the trunk, and at a certain height, the upthrusting members terminate themselves similarly. The exposed wounds heal into lumpy nodules exuding resins harvested for incense. In former times they were also, following the mediaeval doctrine of signatures, favoured as a salve for amputees. Every spring, clusters of thin shoots sprout from these terminations, which would be woven into charms against wounds in battle.

The uninformed mistake this curious habit of growth for over-zealous pruning.
———

Hankering
———
The First Emperor, Qin Shi Huang, hankered after immortality. He sent out explorers to discover the secret. Some stopped in comfortable towns, and wrote back long missives describing their fictitious efforts. From these sprang the myths and legends of China. Others travelled, but only to explore the far-flung provinces. From these we have the great works of geography. A few took the mission seriously, enquiring of alchemists, magicians, and sages, but obtained only hints with which to search further.

Only one succeeded. But he kept the secret for himself alone, and it is said that he lives among us still.
———

RICHARD

Henry

Henry is not the sharpest tool in the box. His heart’s in the right place, but he’s still hopeless, even so, he’s a nice guy – just don’t trust him with anything important.

That’s why everyone was so shocked when I asked him to be my Best Man.

“You know he’ll lose the ring… Go to the wrong church… Turn up late… Think its fancy dress?” – Everyone warned me off, and tol me to pick someone else.

But, would I listen?

Too late, I realised, as he stood smiling gormlessly at the altar.

I tried again…

“Hank! Er… ring?”

SERENDIPIDY

I’m not academic. I’m not one for grammar, phrasing, or worrying about sentence construction. Those are all very well if that’s your style, but I’ve no interest in semantics or word games.

As far as I’m concerned, good old fashioned plain speech is more than sufficient for most occasions, although I’ll admit sometimes my vocabulary lets me down.

Like now, I have a hankering… But that’s not the word. It really doesn’t convey what I really feel inside. And you’re sitting there, humouring me, smiling indulgently.

You shouldn’t.

I’ve just remembered the word for the feeling I have…

It’s bloodlust!

TON

I got a Hankering

When you’re old and have spent the better part of your life eating in restaurants you got to balance dinning out with dinning in with the reality of a fixed income. To that end I and my partners and crime have decided on Taco Tuesday. Yup I got a hankering for tacos and Taco Bell allow a more than generous supply of Taconess. Some may even during the listening of this tale, poo poo the quality of Taco Bell food. Or the lack of Je ne sais quoi. There t-a-c-o-s not Japanese A5 Wagyu Striploin Demi-glace served at the French Laundry

DAVID

The dust covered cowboy makes his way into the saloon. Weaving his way through the tables, cattlemen and soiled doves, to the bar.

“What brings you to town, friend,” asked the bartender?

“I got a hankering for Whiskey, Neat. And I ain’t your friend…friend.”

The bartenders grin fades away as he reaches under for the loaded 45 and sizes up the cowboy. Searching the stranger’s grimy face for clues to his intent.

“You best come up with a whisky bottle. Friend. You want no trouble from me. Understand?”

The bartender snatches the bottle and pours the stranger a drink.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert climbed into his mother’s car, looking behind them to see if Marissa was really following. The Ferrari kept pace behind their car.
“Mom. Can we stop at McDonald’s before we get home? I have a hankering for a cheeseburger.”
His mother slowed the car so she could safely stare at her son. “You have a what?”
He cleared his throat. “A hankering. You know, a persistent urge or desire.”
“I know the word. I’m just wondering why you’re using it.”
Billbert shrugged. “I don’t know. Something prompted me.”
She shook her head. “Whatever. You can’t argue with real hankering.”

PLANET Z

Work provides a catered lunch.
It’s not some fancy affair with chafing dishes and silverware.
It’s just large orders from local restaurants in a family-style buffet line.
The office assistants rotate the schedule of caterers.
Some are good, some are bad, some are awful.
Some forget things, and others are frequently late to arrive.
I look at the calendar and plan out the lunches I will eat.
And the ones I choose to order soup from the deli.
Of course, if there’s any leftover buffet salad, I’ll pack that for home.
Can’t let good food go to waste, you know.

Uber Dragons

Back in the old days, if you wanted to ride a dragon into battle, you had to hatch a dragon’s egg, train it, feed it, and house it.
Now, thanks to Uber, all you need is to call for a dragon, and one will arrive.
Sure, you can pay for options, such as flame breath or extra large size, but they’re usually just for show.
You’re only supposed to ride the dragon to battle and then get dropped off.
If you survive, you can hail another dragon.
Don’t forget that battles will increase dragon demand, so prepare for surge pricing.

Salmoning

“Salmoning” is where a bicyclist goes against the flow of traffic in a bike lane on a one-way street.
It is not where the cyclist leaps out of the bike lane into the road to pass another cyclist. That’s called “Getting hit by a cabbing.”
Nor is it when they pull over to a fountain, lay their eggs, and then suddenly die. There’s no word for that.
Finally, Salmoning is not where you offer salmon to passing bicyclists. That’s just creepy.
Plus, they always ask for cream cheese and a bagel.
Do I look like a deli, honey? Keep pedalling!

Sub Rosa

Your mission is to save my soul, be I alive or dead.
Do what you will.
Bless me. Immerse me.
But you will find no soul remaining.
It is here, in the stories.
Which I envisioned every day.
Dipped a side of my soul into my blood.
And pressed these stories into time.
One by one.
Always searching for a side yet without stain.
It takes longer every day.
Soon, there will be none left to tell.
I am out of ink.
I am out of facets.
I am out of time.
My testimony complete, let me rest forever within.

Staycation

Ted booked a week off, and he had planned to travel somewhere during that time, but he decided on a staycation instead.
But he forgot to remove the Facebook and Twitter announcements about his plans.
Burglars had read these posts, and planned to rob Ted’s place.
Instead, Ted shot the burglars as they broke in.
It was all very exciting, from the attack to his eventual exoneration by the district attorney. Better than any vacation than he’d ever had.
So, when his friends needed a house sitter, he volunteered and brought his guns.
And had them post about their vacation.

Suicide Hotline

After Robin Williams died, a lot of people posted on their Facebook timelines all kinds of videos, photos, and noise about harassing depressed people to go seek help.
They think this is helping.
Yeah, I fight with depression. Heck, I used to have the National Suicide Hotline on speed-dial, but one time I accidentally butt-dialed it and they thought I was going to kill myself.
After ten minutes of arguing, they said: “Then why do you have the number on speed-dial?”
I hung up, and realized that I don’t have to answer calls like that all day.
Life’s good, really.