Restoring Faith

The Sermonizer has been priest of Steamtown for a hundred years, presiding over weddings and funerals, delivering the Sunday sermon without fail.
Until today.
Pressure tank exploded overnight. Punchcards strewn everywhere.
Looking down from the equipment loft, I stare at Sermonizer’s marionette, slumped over the pulpit.
I climb down the stairs, and I lift it.
Not heavy at all, really.
I climb back up and tug at the support ropes.
Sermonizer wobbles to his feet.
“Dearly beloved,” I groan loudly.
Every child mimics Sermonizer in Steamtown, you know.
Clean up the cards, Deacon, and ring the bells.
Time for church.

Pascal’s Wager

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You need a little history lesson, Sonny.
Blaise Pascal said that even though one could not prove God’s existence through reason, one should bet on God’s existence because you have Eternity to gain if you’re right and nothing to lose if you’re wrong.
To bet on Him not existing means you can earn Damnation or Nothingness.
Which would you choose?
Anyway, lifelong afflictions suggested he hadn’t long to live, but making bizarre wagers based on God’s existence actually caused his early demise.
The Organization wasn’t as tolerant then as it is now.
We just break your legs.
Now pay up!

Scarface

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Al Capone claimed that his facial scars were a war wound, and his bodyguard would chuckle at the comment.
“What are you laughing at?” said Al, and his bodyguard went silent.
The bodyguard was the one who had slashed Al for insulting his sister.
Years later, after Al died in prison, the bodyguard went out in the streets and found a kid in a gang.
“C’mere,” he said, and he slashed the kid’s face three times.
The kid’s mouth hung open, and then a familiar sneer came over his face.
“Nice knifework,” said Al. “Got a cigar and a light?”

Codex

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We came across The Codex during our excavation.
It is a stone obelisk with three sides, a different language on each side.
Unlike the Rosetta Stone, we have no idea what these languages are.
We post photographs to JonesNet and wait for answers, but none of the wired archaeologists and researchers in the world have any clue, either.
The shapes and lines and dots resemble no other written language ever encountered.
So, we keep digging, but find no other writing resembling it.
We come to the conclusion that it was a prank by the ancients on future generations of researchers.

Cave Paintings

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I am sitting in a cave, scared.
It is cold, damp and dark.
Every Winter solstice, the sun’s rays illuminate the wall so that the figures appear to dance.
I’ve tried it with flashlights, spotlights- but it has to be sunlight on this specific day.
I say it’s a magic spell, cast by a long-dead shaman.
Light peeks in through the cave’s entrance… and then it gets darker.
I hear thunder.
Damn. Awful time for a rainstorm.
Except… there’s no rain.
It gets darker, the figures dance, and I hear chanting.
Raising my spear, recognizing faces- I rejoin my tribe.

The Grim Arena

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The gladiators draw their rubber chickens, salute the crowd, and begin their battle.
“What’s with the chickens?” asks the emperor.
“Budget cutbacks,” responded his page. “You said you’d rather have swordfish dinners instead of swords.”
The emperor patted his full belly and smiled. “I love swordfish.” And then he frowned. “But grown men whacking each other with rubber toys is boring. Can’t they just fight with their fists? Or tell the guards to toss them their weapons?”
“Budget cutbacks,” said the page. “They barely have enough weapons for their jobs.”
The emperor sighed and watched the pathetic spectacle drag on.

The Mummy Train

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Mark Twain used to joke that the wrappings for mummies were used in pulp for newspapers and their bodies burned to run trains.
But neither was true.
Instead, mummies were employed by the newspapers in the printing presses, shambling around the massive rollers.
If one got caught up in the machinery and torn to bits, who cared, right? They were already dead, their families long gone.
Letting them don engineer caps and run trains, well, that was a lot more dangerous. Mummy brakemen tended to ignore warning signals, and only so many accidents were tolerated before they all were retired.

Butt Dial

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Even though the experiment was a success, Bell and Watson needed to perfect the telephone device before heading to the patent office.
Some of their ideas were improvements on the original concept and others weren’t.
For instance, Watson rigged up a chair to the telephone that would call the other unit when someone sat down.
“Call someone else with your butt?” said Bell. “How brilliant and simple!”
After sitting down to think and calling each other over and over, they decided not to add the feature.
But today, it’s standard with cell phones.
Just put it in your back pocket.

Fruit

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Are tomatoes vegetables or fruit?
After decades of research, Dr. Milton still didn’t know the answer.
In fact, his latest findings suggested that they were both.
This is not an unreasonable conclusion, fruits and vegetables are just two terms created by man to describe his surroundings, right?
A wave of depression fell over him. All those years, completely wasted.
He hung up his lab coat and just wandered for a while.
He roamed through war-ravaged Spain, angry and frustrated.
“Care for a tomato?” offered a pushcart vendor.
“Damn you,” growled Dr. Milton.
Bunol. Spain. 1945.
Yep. That’s how Tomatina began.

Betrayal

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My friend, my love battered bloody through the streets of Jerusalem by the angry mob.
I feel every blow.
This was a mistake.
He falls at my feet.
“I forgive you,” he groans, and falls.
I should not have pointed him out.
I kneel to help him up, but I am pulled back by two Roman soldiers.
“Thank you, Iscariot,” says one, the other tossing me a bag.
Clink.
I pour out the silver coins into my hand.
Twenty-eight.
Twenty-nine.
Thirty.
He asked me to do this. He wanted to die.
I throw down the coins and scream “WHY?”
Silence.