Frank bought a guitar from the pawn shop on the corner.
Its case had stickers from around the world on it.
People would ask him about those places, and he’d make up stories about the restaurants, the streets, the people, the bars, and the gigs.
He’d play gigs and fill the room.
Never made it big, but still, he made a decent living from it with session work and teaching.
When he died, the guitar made it back to the pawn shop.
And another kid ended up buying it.
But, no bullshit stories. He got a new case for it.
The Journal
Do you fear what I fear?
What do I fear?
Read my journal.
My doctor told me to keep a journal of my fears.
So, I did.
When I filled the first one, I started another.
Filled all the shelves in my room.
I needed more shelves.
And a bigger room.
The basement was bigger.
So, I moved downstairs to the basement.
Filled it with shelves, and filled those shelves with my journals.
Writing more and more.
Write them in a computer?
Unlimited space to fill?
No. I’m afraid to lose it all.
I should add that to my journal.
Forgetful
Every time I go to the grocery store, I forget something.
I write lists on a magnetic notepad on the fridge.
But I forget a pen, and don’t mark things off as I get them, so I overlook things.
I tried a notepad app on my phone, but I’d forget to check my phone.
There was an icon-based grocery list program I used, adding and removing icons for things as I bought them.
Then, my sister-in-law distracted me with her constant talking, and I forgot things.
Now, I just get things through delivery services.
So someone else forgets for me.
Weekly Challenge #832: PICK TWO Weather, Varnish, Explanation, Preventative Maintenance, Contact, Landing
LISA
Writing a thriller
It was remote, like really remote. But I’d felt I had to get away – the nearest neighbour was probably about ten minutes away by car and I didn’t drive. There was no one to hear you scream, you know? The weather got pretty scary out there too. It was awful really there he was in a thunderstorm up a ladder doing preventative maintenance (his words) while I was inside by the fire with a glass of wine. Honestly? I was just waiting for the rungs I’d sawn through yesterday to give way so I could enjoy my isolated writers retreat.
LIZZIE
“The landing was scheduled for eleven. What’s going on?”
The voice on the phone stumbled.
“I don’t care. Where are they?”
Some problem…
“Are they coming or not?”
Silence.
“If they aren’t coming, I need to dispose of these samples. You know how human samples deteriorate quickly and the fridge you left here is crap.”
A chuckle.
“Oh, funny, is it? You won’t find it so amusing when it’s your turn to do a tour here on Earth and have your crappy fridge stuffed with beers just because you don’t want them to think you’re an alien, which you are!”
RICHARD
Varnish
It’s all about preventative maintenance: The old ‘stitch in time saves nine’ philosophy.
That’s why I’ve spent the last ten years varnishing all my external woodwork, to protect against the worst of the weather.
Fences, decking, doors and windows have all received the treatment, and after all this time, it had better be worth it.
I never expected it to take quite as long as it did, but then again, I’ve no idea why the varnish comes in such tiny bottles.
The wife always buys it for me… She gets it from the same place she buys her make-up, apparently.
SERENDIPIDY
If you look out of the window at midnight, you’ll see them landing.
They’ll exit their spaceship and make their way slowly to the house, and – as always – I’ll be here waiting for them.
They’ll stare at me, from those dark, alien eyes, set in those grey, pallid faces, and then motion for me to follow them back to their craft.
Once inside, they’ll strip me, strap me to a cold metal table, and then…
And then, they’ll produce the anal probe.
Who could have possibly known that first contact would be quite so unsettling?
And yet, so much fun!
NORVAL JOE
Billbert charged away into the darkness. Sabrina ran to catch up to him and took hold of his hand.
“Slow down, Billbert. I’m trying to give you an explanation.”
He considered her hand in his. It felt warm. Warmer than his own, but he didn’t want to let go.
“Okay,” he said. “Explain what weather witches are and why I need to make daily contact with you. That doesn’t mean kissing, does it?”
Sabrina giggled. “Weather witches need to be polarized to be most effective. Therefore, we need daily contact with our counterparts. Kissing is a nice way to contact.”
PLANET Z
The landing areas were all far from the base.
So if a ship blew a landing, it wouldn’t damage the base with its wreckage.
Or if there was a problem with fuel tanks, the tunnel airlocks could cut off oxygen from the explosions.
Sure, it took a while to get cargo and people to and from the landing areas, but after one particularly nasty accident, the base design proved itself worthy.
Instead of killing thousands of workers and researchers and damaging priceless equipment, the company just had to string out a few replacement fuel lines and gather up the scrap.
Tall
Samuel Clemens had so many pseudonyms when he was young.
He wrote for his older brother’s paper under one.
And then, going down river to make a name for himself, made several on the bylines of his freelance writing.
They were all rather silly names.
But the one we all know the best is Mark Twain.
The call of the Mississippi riverboats to signal that the water was two fathoms deep.
“Two fathoms is twelve feet,” said Samuel. “And I am twelve feet tall.”
Yes, he was really that tall.
I mean, why else would they call them tall tales?
Famous Doug
Doug is famous, and he has a big entourage.
He’s got family and childhood friends always hanging around.
Then there’s the bodyguards. They keep an eye on things.
His manager and publicist are there to deal with the press.
A photographer snapping photos of everything.
Social media influencers to boost the likes and shares.
Accountants are always around to handle the numbers.
Drivers to drive everyone around.
Maids and servants all around his houses.
Bartenders and cooks to keep everyone fed.
Know what’s missing?
Doug.
Nobody’s seen him for weeks.
And as long as the party keeps going, nobody cares.
Kind words
A friend once said “Kind words cost nothing.”
“Not true,” I said. “I had some kind words tattooed on my ass and had to pay the tattoo artist for them.”
The friend said I was missing the point of what they said.
I continued: “When I sobered up, I had to pay a specialist even more money to get the kind words tattoo removed. Oh, and the antibiotics, the skin cream, and painkillers cost money, too.”
My friend threw up their hands in disgust and left.
Next time we go drinking, I’m making them get a tattoo on their ass.
Restoration
When Blake would restore a car, the moment of truth came when he turned the key and the engine would start.
Mission accomplished, Blake washed his hands and then rewarded himself with a cigar and a glass of port.
“Remember our agreement,” he’d say to the client. “This is a car, not a collection piece.”
Blakes restorations were not meant for museums or garages.
They were meant to be loved and driven.
And when he’d hear of his successes caged in a collection, he’d go out with a sledgehammer and smash that car.
Better a wreck again than a prisoner.
Camera collection
I’m a photographer.
I like to go to the shore and stand by the highest cliff, and offer to take photos for tourists.
“Can you take my photo?” a guy asks.
“Sure,” I say, and he hands over his camera.
It’s a nice camera, an expensive one.
He shows me how to set it and use it.
“I’ve got one just like it,” I lie.
“Okay, stand there… a little back… back a little more… more… more…”
The guy walks back… and back… and then falls off the cliff.
“Number thirteen,” I say, pocketing the camera, and running back home.
Pill Caddy
As I get older, I take more pills.
And it’s hard to keep track of them.
The bottles get all mixed up on the counter, and I can’t remember which ones I’ve taken.
My phone reminders aren’t so helpful with this.
And writing on the mirror with dry-erase marker doesn’t help when I forget to read it or update it.
So, I got one of those pill caddies.
Every day has its own compartment, and I fill it on Sunday morning.
Just take the pills for that day, and I’m fine.
Now, please remind me… what day is it again?