Christopher Gunness

Christopher Gunness
You fucking tool
You fucking fool
Do you let Hamas hide rockets
Up your ass
Or is your lying crying head
Jammed too far up there
Your schools
Teach kids to hate
And crave death
Your hospitals are ammo dumps
Rocket launching sites
And command centers for murderers
Reporters and civilians
Who call you on your lies
Are shot and killed
And dragged through the streets
All that concrete
To rebuild schools and hospitals
And homes
Used to build tunnels
Built by child slave labor
Drag out those dead children
Claim they were
Shot
Bombed by the Jeeeeeeeews

Weekly Challenge #719 – PICK TWO: pulled from the water, quirk, pride, ploy, goof, exposed

Tin

DAVID

The dead don’t move very quickly. If they get lucky, they don’t have to. There was a time when the dead didn’t move at all. Those times are gone. Now the dead come back and not the Jesus way either. That would have been better for me. I take no pride in saying, it’s like those old horror movies, but a little different. If they bleed, they stay dead. Headshots are not necessary. But I still do. In the left eye only. I don’t know why, call it a quirk. Up close and personal. Too personal. It got me too.

LIZZIE

They look off.
They don’t!
They do… is this a… tentacle?
The two friends tilted their heads.
You are crazy. I’ve been eating fish from these waters for months, said the merchant, adjusting the back of his shirt.
I don’t think we should buy these…
Come on. I’ll give you a special discount, how about that?
The two friends exchanged looks.
Well, OK then.
A month later, they were selling fish on the pier. The merchant had been promoted.
They too adjusted the back of their shirts.
It was a nuisance the shirts didn’t have room for the damn tentacle.

RICHARD

Richard the Pirate

“Let’s throw him overboard!”

And that’s exactly what they did.

Yes, they were just goofing about, but after just a single day at sea, that dunking taught me a profound, and important lesson…

I wasn’t cut out to be a pirate.

It was a blow to my pride and my self esteem: I’d quite fancied the raping and pillaging and evenings drinking rum over a dead man’s chest, but the truth is, it was all a bit rowdy for me.

So I turned in my cutlass and settled for a desk job, instead.

Who wants to be a pirate anyway?

SERENDIPIDY

Every so often, evolution throws up a surprise – a quirk of nature that rarely survives long, and is unlikely to alter the gene pool in any significant way.

But every now and again, nature’s mistakes prosper.

Like me.

I’m not a ‘quirk’… There’s nothing quirky or humorous about me. No, I take pride in what I really am.

An aberration, a flaw in the plan, a glitch in the system.

Which isn’t to say I don’t follow the rules. Darwin makes those very clear.

But, when it comes to survival of the fittest…

I definitely have the upper hand!

TOM

When Shadows Fall

What we pulled from the water was: how you, say it … q-u-i-r-k-y. In my country we would say: odd. Not especial bad, but certainly not your run of the mill: hi mom look what Rudy and me found in the river. It wasn’t so much the number of eyes, lordy there were a lot, or the telescoping tentacles. The quirk was how damn cute it looked. Stuffed teddy bear cute. Rudy just hugged the fuzzy pink fishy thing. We could pry the damn thing away from him. Call be deeply paranoid, I don’t think this is going to end well.

NORVAL JOE

“No really,” Billbert said. “It’s the plastic bag. That’s what makes me fly.”

Marissa shook her head, unconvinced. “I don’t want to hurt your pride, but that’s about the worst ploy I’ve ever heard. Well, the worst next to the story that Jeffery Epstien killed himself. Someone will eventually goof up and the whole plot will be exposed. It was probably the Clintons. They kill everybody.”

“Okay. Well, there’s my mom. I’ve gotta go.” Billbert headed to the waiting car.

“We’ll follow to your house. I’m going to get my flight with you, tonight. Whether you like it or not.”

PLANET Z

We pulled Herman’s car from the water an hour ago.
He’d crashed through the barrier and into the lake.
No sign of Herman, though.
We’ve sent his photo to the media and the wires.
We’ll ask around if anybody’s seen him.
And check the shoreline.
If nothing comes up, we will drag the lake.
It always feels weird, calling the divers “frogmen.”
They look nothing like frogs.
Whatever.
Then we’ll ask the psychics.
See if he’s still in our dimension.
Or if he’s fallen through some kind of rift or portal.
Shame about the car.
Herman sure loved that thing.

Seven Inches

Timmy never felt comfortable as a man.
He’d saved for years, but he was still seven inches from becoming Tina.
Close, but not enough. He kept saving for the final cut.
That’s when the devil showed up.
“I can give you that,” he said. “All of it. 100% natural.”
Timmy happily grabbed the contract.
“Sign it as Tina.”
The next day, she woke up…
Soft breasts, not implants. And the cock… Gone! Labia, vagina, a clitoris! And it felt…
Wait. A hard cot. Bars. Prison cell.
“All natural, death row prime,” whispered Satan.
He’d been given a condemned woman’s body.

Helper Monkey

Eddie types fast. Really fast.
But his coding skills suck.
Bob, on the other hand, writes amazing code.
He just can’t type worth a damn.
So, we paired them together.
Eddie writes for Bob, then Bob corrects Eddie’s code.
Still not good enough.
That’s when somebody suggests a neural link. Wire their brains together.
Bob does the thinking, and Eddie is the output device. A mere printer, or a helper monkey.
Bob thinks this is cool.
Eddie didn’t, until we drugged him. And fitted him with the neural link cap.
Which still needs system drivers.
Who will write that code?

Woody

Woody Allen has used the same typewriter for fifty years.
However, he’s had a few worn-out parts replaced here and there. And he’s gotten fresh ribbons as he’s needed them to write.
Miles and miles of typewriter ribbons. So many miles, they could wrap around the earth…
How many times?
Two? Three? Four?
Or hundreds and hundreds of miles?
Well, it’s not that he’s ties them end-to-end and wrapped them around the earth. He’s too busy writing and producing and directing movies.
But he still has time to tie up his wife Soon-Yi with them, the twisted little nebbish freak.

Bobo

Every year, my mom and dad would hire Bobo the Clown for my birthday, until I grew too old for clowns.
Facing the big fifty, I decided I wanted to see Bobo one more time.
Thing is, both my parents are gone. Maybe Bobo, too.
I did some searches, and had to hire a private investigator.
Three days to go, and he got a hit.
Bobo was rotting away in an old folks home.
I dropped by and thanked him, and apologized for getting too old for him.
“We all get too old,” he said, “Happy birthday.”
And died.

Smashes

Every time I buy bread from the store, it gets smashed.
Even when I pack it myself.
Even when it’s the only thing I buy.
Even when I put it in my patented No Smash Bread Safe.
It ends up smashed.
So, I baked my own bread.
I used a bread baking machine, fresh ingredients, and 24/7 closed-circuit security camera coverage.
And it doesn’t end up smashed.
It smells so wonderful… so incredible… so fresh!
I pull it out of the baking pan, let it cool, and slice it with a razor-sharp bread knife.
And then I smash it.

Birthday Guy

Nobody ever remembers Ted’s birthday.
Not even Ted.
You know how people say “Hey, when’s your birthday? It’s coming up soon, right?” as an icebreaker?
Nobody does that with Ted.
It’s not even on his driver’s license. Or birth certificate.
The subject just never comes up.
Ted doesn’t really mind that he’s never had a birthday party or cake.
He doesn’t like attention or a lot of noise.
And he really doesn’t like cake. Or ice cream.
Now, when it comes to party hats, well, he likes wearing those.
On his crotch. And nothing else.
Let’s not invite him, okay?

Weekly Challenge #718 – SHARK

Kitty bag

LIZZIE

A man sat by the shore at the beach.
Two little boats, sailing along the coast…, he muttered.
That sounds like the beginning of a story, someone in the group said, laughing. And continued walking.
Two little boats, sailing along the little coast, sailing along the rocky coast, sailing along… And he stopped, his eyes on the horizon.
The group had disappeared from his sight.
Two little boats, sailing along the sharky coast… He stopped again. Sharky… Shark. He shook his head and slid backwards, taking his feet out of the water.
One little boat, sailing along the lonely coast.

RICHARD

Great White Lie

As a teenager, I was into extreme sports. Unfortunately, these occasionally led to extreme injuries!

After the fifth shoulder dislocation, reconstructive surgery was the only option to repair my now, fairly useless, arm.

This was the days before keyhole techniques, and I became the proud owner of an eight inch scar, which I’d happily show off to impress the girls, who never failed to be mesmerised by the story of my heroic escape from the Jaws of a Great White shark.

I’d still be using the story today… Except the girls no longer want to see me without my shirt!

SERENDIPIDY

Welcome aboard!

Before you get settled in, I just want to make a few things clear, because a lot of people think this job is like what they see in the movies… It’s not!

We are a disciplined, professional and rational scientific outfit. Nobody is here for kicks, nobody acts recklessly, and we don’t drink whisky into the early hours singing raucous sea shanties and comparing scars.

Sharks are no joke – and that’s something you’ll find out soon enough.

Now, as for your assignments: Everyone on board has their designated role, and yours is very simple.

You’re the bait!

TOM

NaNa .. NaNaNa .. NaNa .. NaNa … NANA

“I’m Tired of being a Shark, I want to be a Jet.” “Hector we’re Puerto Ricoians, Puerto Ricoians aren’t Jets.” “Dude my name is Ivan O’Flaherty, I’ve dance in the Bolshoi and River Dance.” “Hector drill down into your Stanislavski. You got to feel your Latin Prowling Predator.” “I don’t want to prowl, I want to soar.” “Yea, Yea you really want to click your finger and look cool?” “So?” “We get way more pirouettes, then those sissy boy jets.” “What wrong with sissyes, you’ve been a pony or two on 42nd?” “Not the point, Sharks rule, don’t be a Jet Fool.”

NORVAL JOE

As the single headlighted car came closer, the familiar tune of “Baby Shark”, came from the back seat. Obviously, the car was not his mother’s.
Billbert turned back to Marissa who attacked like a shark. “Tell me the truth, Billbert. I caught you red handed. How do you fly? If you tell me, I’ll keep your secret. If you don’t, I’ll tell everyone I know. And I know a lot of people.”
“Okay.” Billbert said. “I wear a plastic bag for underwear and it makes me float.”
Marissa gritted her teeth. “Don’t mock me. I told you. I’m not stupid.”

PLANET Z

Two red flags means that there is a shark in the water.
Makes sense at the beach.
But not in my bathroom.
Is the shark in my tub, toilet, or sink?
Who do I call to get rid of a shark?
The landlord said I’m not allowed to keep pets and hung up on me.
I called the city. “There’s a shark in my bathroom.”
They told me to talk to my landlord.
“He hung up on me,” I said.
The city hung up on me too.
Do you know what I should do?
Besides pee in the kitchen sink?

I Love The Movies

I love the movies.
I love going to the movies.
I love the theater, the popcorn, the cokes, the sound…
Tear that ticket in half and hand me the stub.
The curtains open.
The lights go down.
And…
Previews. Ads. Public service announcements.
I love all of this.
When I was little, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.
“In the movies,” I said.
Actor? Director? Producer? Makeup? Set designer?
Nope. I just want to be in the movies.
My English teacher said the right word is at, not in.
And I got an F.