The drive-ins have been dying out since The Sixties.
Killed off by movie theaters, which have been dying out since the new century.
No matter what the perks: stadium seating, fancy gourmet dinners, IMAX screens.
VHS, cable, DVD, Blu-Ray, streaming.
They were already ending the old way of doing things.
So when the virus hit, theaters were closed, some people thought drive-ins would come back.
Stay in your car and watch the movies in a social way.
Instead, people stayed home to watch.
The studios held back new releases.
But people didn’t care.
They just watched the old classics instead.
Hoodies
Every year, work gives away hoodies to the staff.
I don’t wear hoodies.
And even if I did, these hoodies are never black.
I look good in black, so I only wear black.
So, they sent out a new hoodie this year, and I opened the box and put it on the floor.
Tinny the cat got in it and used it as a cat bed.
“You don’t want it?” work asks.
“I want it,” I say. “As a cat bed.”
“Does it not fit?” work asks.
“The cat fits perfectly,” I say.
And I smile and watch her sleep.
Perfect pitch
Allen has Perfect Pitch.
Well, he calls it Absolute Pitch.
Musicians and experts tend to call it that instead of the pedestrian term Perfect Pitch.
He can hear a sound and tell you what note on the scale it is.
That coffee mug is a B flat.
That siren is a C sharp.
That woman is screaming in a high A.
And that explosion is… well… after the bright flash and shock wave and the wall of flame, Allen can’t tell us what its note was.
I think the Geiger Counter clicks a D.
But I don’t have Perfect Pitch.
Not so wild about Harry
I know a guy named Harry.
He hates his name.
As a kid, everyone called him Hairy Harry.
Or, when he started carrying a knife and threatening to cut out everyone’s eyes, Scary Hairy.
The song “I’m so wild about Harry” would drive Harry wild.
I guess he wasn’t so wild about me.
Even tried to kill me when I sang it.
For that, he was put in jail.
He was delighted to know he’d only be known as an inmate number.
No more teasing.
Until he got his number
8765309.
He killed his first cellmate for calling him Jenny.
On the side of a barn
Long ago, this was a forest.
Then, settlers came and cut down the trees.
And they planted crops.
They held barn-raisings and had square dances.
Then came movies and the radio and cars.
Every barn had a side painted white to show movies off of.
When the sun went down and all the work done, it was time.
And the people gathered together and watched.
And they laughed and they cried, held each other when they were scared.
It’s hard to find a place like that anymore, but if you look, you’ll find it.
And you’ll never want to leave.
Long Sticks
I suffer from a lot of wax in my ear canals.
So, yeah, I dig down deep with the Q-tips.
Lots of gunk comes out.
Even though you’re only supposed to swab them around the earlobe.
I’ve tried all kinds of oils and chemicals and weird devices, but none seem to work better than swabs.
I try to be careful, but every now and then… I make a mistake and end up in the ER.
They lecture me about it, give me more useless potions and bad advice.
What do you expect when they have Q-tips with even longer sticks.
Weekly Challenge #841 – PICK A FEW Thousands of years, Virtual reality, Prompt, Extremely flexible, Consensus, Major
LISA
Major Tom
He’d been floating in a Galaxy Far Far away in a most peculiar way, for over half a century and his back was killing him. He shook his empty protein pack and exhaled loudly before thumping the control panel. The O on his HALO monitor promptly fell off and floated past his ear.
“Hello! Can you hear me?
Major Tom to Ground Control.
Hello! Can you hear me?”
Through his little window planet Earth wasn’t looking as blue as he remembered. He wanted to hug his wife so instead he screamed as loud as he could.
No one heard him.
RICHARD
Plug me in
We live in technologically exciting times, don’t you think?
Some tech would have seemed like magic to our predecessors… Like virtual reality, for example; and unlike the technology of a hundred years ago it can be extremely flexible: Useful for applications from medicine, to virtual worlds.
As for the real world, the general consensus is that it’s in trouble. For thousands of years we’ve been setting ourselves up for a major catastrophe.
Our prompt, maybe, to seek refuge from impending disaster?
Personally, I’d happily be uploaded into the cloud to live out my days like some latter-day, technological angel!
LIZZIE
Major Bunny hurried through the main hall.
“What happened?” Asked Benny, the only human around. He had been adopted by the Bunnies as a kid.
“Not now, Benny, not now.”
The bells clanged, prompting everyone to gather.
“Fellow Bunnies, we’ve been called to action.”
Everyone murmured.
“Consensus Bunny has received the order. This is not a drill.”
That’s when the bunnies stopped being bunnies. And how relieved they were. Thousands of years pretending.
They were still small, but they weren’t cute anymore.
“Let’s harvest some humans!” Shouted Major Bunny.
And the mob scattered in all directions, much to Benny’s horror.
SERENDIPIDY
I’ve been around for thousands of years, and although I’m really ‘all in the mind’, I’m afraid that for those who cross my path, I’m a virtual reality.
I prompt the unwary to take unnecessary risks. I sow doubt and dissent against the consensus, turning the tide of opinion and misleading the gullible: I’m all over fake news, conspiracy theory and manipulation.
You see, I’m extremely flexible and – though I don’t like bragging – I’m a major player whenever fear, confusion and hatred rear their ugly heads!
But, as for who I am…
You can work that one out for yourselves!
NORVAL JOE
“Now Billbert,” his mother said. “You don’t need to chase Sabrina off. She’s a little weird, but she’s harmless.”
Billbert blinked. “Harmless, Mom? She’s a witch. She could turn me into a toad?”
She shook her head. “You’re overreacting. At superhero headquarters, we’ve researched a number of alleged witches. We’ve learned that witches have been around for thousands of years and the major consensus is that they’re well intentioned and no one has ever been turned into a toad.”
“There’s always a first time,” Billbert mumbled. “You’ll be sorry when you answer the phone and all you hear is croaking.”
PLANET Z
Kitaro entered his name at the prompt, turned on his headset, and the world’s databases appeared around him.
It didn’t take him long to find the financial anomalies.
Altered shipping manifests. Strange payments made to inspectors.
He was about to file a report when his headset exploded.
His body fell from its chair, and his office caught fire.
After the sprinklers put out the fire, a fire crew sifted through the records.
“Nothing in the logs, Major” said the lead investigator.
And the case was closed.
The Major checked his balances for a payment… with his terminal, not his headset.
Ashes to… everywhere
Bruce asked that his ashes be spread on the mountain he used to climb.
He also asked that his ashes be spread on his high school’s football field where he used to play.
Then there was the fishing hole at the farm he spent a few summers. He wanted his ashes to go there, too.
There was a long list of places he wanted his ashes spread.
Too many places… Bruce was a small man, mind you.
So we tossed in a few extra two-by-fours and filled him out, portioned out the bags, and sent him on his final adventures.
Actor
When Arthur isn’t performing, it’s as if he didn’t exist.
He just sits there, listening and watching.
If you say hello to him, he’ll smile and say hello back.
Maybe with a little wave.
Ask him anything, and he’ll think for a minute, maybe say “Let me think about it. I’ll get back to you on that.”
And go back to sitting there quietly.
He’ll drink and eat, and will say “This is good.” if asked about it.
But that’s pretty much it.
Sitting at home, reading scripts his agent sends him, and saving his energy for the next performance.
It’s not just an ant and grasshopper
All summer long, the ants gathered up food and supplies to prepare for the winter.
The grasshoppers, on the other hand, danced and sang and played.
When winter came, the grasshoppers tried to forage, but often failing and freezing to death.
The cicadas buried themselves in tree roots, emerging every few years to mate, lay eggs, and die.
Such a safe, boring life.
Meanwhile, the cockroaches scuttled around in buildings and dumpsters, feasting on the trash of humanity.
Sure, a few were stuck in glue traps or ate poison pellets, but for the most part, they led a good life.