Freddy believed that he had to sacrifice his life for the benefit of mankind.
But committing suicide is a mortal sin, and he’d be condemned forever for it.
He tried suicide-by-cop, but as hard as he tried to get shot and killed, he was either tased or clubbed into submission.
And his sentence wasn’t a death sentence. He got ten years.
Running for the electrified fences would be suicide.
So, he’d try to rile up other prisoners to kill him.
After some savage beatings, the prisoners tended to leave Freddy alone.
And he sat there in his cell, utterly morose.
Candy bowl
For Halloween, Brian bought a box of Pixie Stix.
Then he opened the tubes up, poured out a bit of the sugar candy, and added poison to each.
Then he sealed them back up and put them in the beggar bowl.
On Halloween Night, the emergency lines lit up.
Kids were dying from the poisoned candy.
It didn’t take long to figure out it was the Pixie Stix, and some kids remembered where they got them.
From Brian’s neighbor. He’d put them in their bowl.
His bowl had Snickers.
But he didn’t count on their Ring doorbell camera filming him.
Escape from the church
I was looking for meaning, so I joined The Church.
I wish I hadn’t.
A church? More like… a cult.
A horrible, horrible cult.
The things I saw… the things that were done to me…
I can’t tell you. I’m so ashamed.
So, I escaped. I ran.
And they found me.
The others who had escaped.
And they took me in.
They helped me.
So, I stayed with them.
I wish I hadn’t.
A survivor’s group? More like… a cult.
The things I saw… the things that were done to me.
So, I escaped. I ran.
Back to The Church.
Weekly Challenge #859: The Speediest
LISA
The Hair and the Tortoise
I’ve got a three year old, it makes me not question anything… like yesterday I went into the bathroom and they’ve hacked their own hair off then glued it to the toilet seat next to our pet tortoise, Rex.
Anyway, I started trying to pick the hair off and predictably Rex slipped in. Toddler then runs over and pulls the flush. And Rex has gone, like completely GONE. I know I should’ve taken Rex off first, but I don’t like touching Rex. Didn’t like touching Rex. The hairy glue won’t come of the toilet seat either. Fuck my actual life.
An old postcard
LIZZIE
“Grab your passport and run.” Good advice from the boss.
When his underboss took me to the airplane, I looked unsure. I was the only passenger and I seemed frightened. He nodded. I grabbed my notepad and showed him my notes. “I’m just a journalist.” He nodded some more.
When he grabbed his gun, I smiled. He was confused. I clicked the button and the plane exploded, underboss included.
I’m not sure why I needed the passport, but who am I to question the boss. After all, whatever he decided was the speediest way of getting your life significantly shortened.
RICHARD
Edward
Edward wasn’t the speediest runner in the world. To be fair to him, tortoises aren’t generally regarded as sprinters, but that never stopped him from competing – he was stubborn like that.
Of course, people laughed at him, but he didn’t care, for him it was all about the taking part, not the winning.
Although, winning – now and again – would be nice.
Edward wasn’t nice.
Which is how he came to be grinding up drugs into the hare’s energy drink on race day.
Didn’t work though.
If you’re going to try doping your opponents, speed isn’t the best drug of choice!
SERENDIPIDY
The famous hangman, Albert Pierrepoint, was renowned for the rapidity with which he despatched his clients. The speedier the execution, the better the outcome; at least, that was his approach.
It’s not for me.
I want to see you dangling and choking, your body twitching, whilst your breath wheezes painfully as the noose slowly constricts.
Not for me, the quick snap of the neck, as you drop from the optimum height. Instead, I’ll haul you into position, your own body weight throttling the life from you as you’re eased up from the floor.
You’ll still die.
But, slowly and painfully.
NORVAL JOE
If Sabrina’s outright lie offended Linoliamanda, she didn’t show it, and rejoined Billbert and the witch, following them to class.
Uncomfortable with Sabrina’s deception, Billbert tried to lighten the situation by asking, “What are you doing in Eureka, Linoliamanda?”
She smiled. “Daddy wanted to open a new location of Carpet King.” In the speediest change of subject Billbert had ever seen, Linoliamnda continued, “Sabrina. You know Billbert can fly, don’t you?”
Sabrina shrugged. “I know when we touch our magic makes us levitate, but I wouldn’t call it flying.”
Linoliamanda shook her head. “It’s not magic. He can really fly.”
PLANET Z
The secret police are everywhere.
They are behind every door and every wall.
They are upstairs, listening to the floor.
They are downstairs, listening to the ceiling.
They are at every window, looking in and watching.
If you ask them if they are the secret police, they will deny it.
They will claim to be neighbors, deliverymen, plumbers, and pretty much everything but the secret police.
“I’m dressed as a policeman,” says one. “That’s silly, isn’t it, being the secret police and dressed like police?”
He’s right. It is silly.
And he nods and speaks into his cuff: “All clear.”
The next two ghosts
I have lifetime passes to Disney parks.
My elderly parents want me to use them to take them to Disney World.
But my dad requires a walker and my mother has the bitchy and feisty form of Dementia.
Along with gastrointestinal issues which randomly park her on the toilet for hours.
I would have an absolutely miserable time there, more miserable than they usually make me.
So… I did what any good son would do.
I took them to Disney World.
Flew First Class, got the best suite at the resort.
And I spread their ashes at the Haunted Mansion.
Lazarus
After his Reggie’s wife died, LazarusTech picked up the body and brought it back to their lab.
Nobody’s quite sure what they do there.
Camera crews aren’t allowed in, and employees never talk.
Bodies go in, deliveries go out.
Three days later, LazarusTech delivered the clone of Reggie’s wife to Reggie.
“She has all of your wife’s memories,” said the technician.
And she opened her eyes.
“You fucking poisoned me!” she yelled, grabbing Reggie by the throat.
Reggie fought back and killed her.
“That violates the warranty,” said the technician.
He carried the body to the van and drove off.
Beggar’s Night
Ever notice those people standing at intersections, with their cardboard signs, begging for money?
Where do they go at night?
There’s a homeless camp by the freeway.
It started with carboard boxes and makeshift tents from duct-taped trash bags.
Eventually, actual camping tents showed up.
It’s cheaper to toss trash from construction and refurbs in the weeds than to pay the dump, so leftover materials led to a small village of shacks.
I drove by there and saw Halloween decorations going up.
Do they dress up for Trick or Treat?
Imagine that, kids going door to door, begging from beggars.
Trick and Robbery
Usually, on Halloween, it’s kids going around the neighborhood, begging for candy.
But with the pandemic and businesses closing and people losing their jobs, they’re going around begging for money and food.
And they have their parents with them.
So, we turned the porch light off, closed the garage, and turned off the doorbell.
Which, on second thought, was a bad idea, making people think we weren’t at home.
Yeah, they tried to kick in the door to rob our house.
So, we treated them to two rounds of buckshot.
They got their candy and backsides x-rayed all at once.
Syndromes
Every now and then, a visitor to the Holy Land will lose their mind, act like they’re Jesus or some other holy figure, and cause a ruckus.
Experts call this Jerusalem Syndrome, and it’s usually just some other condition like schizophrenia or paranoia manifesting itself.
And then, there’s the times when a visitor to Graceland will lose their mind, act like they’re Elvis or Priscilla or The Colonel, and cause a ruckus.
Experts call this Nashville Syndrome.
Well, publicly.
Amongst themselves, they stick out their tongue, roll their eyes, and wiggle their finger next to their ear.
Experts are pricks.
Morley’s House
Old Man Morley built himself one of those underground houses.
They say that’s better cooling, but it’s not good for lighting.
He put in a skylight in the living room. and there were solar panels and fiber optics to carry in sunlight.
And he had some plasma televisions here and there for scenery.
The energy savings he had from building underground was more than offset by the energy costs of the televisions and lights.
And a security system to deal with the tourists, of course.
Trick or treaters would bang on the skylight, demanding Snickers.
Morley turned out the lights.