Back when I delivered pizza, people would prank call in the strangest orders.
Hold everything but the crust. Lots of crust.
Make it square so it will fit the box.
Use seven of those little plastic stands to keep the lid from sticking to the cheese.
That kind of thing.
“Your mushrooms,” asked a caller, “are they magic?”
Yes. Yes they are.
Sometimes, they spell out things, like LOUSY TIPPER or FAT FUCK.
Honestly, we just scatter them on the pizza before we put it in the oven.
Must be magic or something.
You fat fuck who gives lousy tips.
Polish death camps
The girl next door had some kind of immune disorder.
She was homeschooled and worked on her model train set.
I saw it once. I had to put on a surgical mask and gloves.
She showed me every detail… the town, the forest, the Polish death camp.
The boxcars full of the condemned.
“I like the History Channel,” she said, using a magnifying lens to show the detail on the barbed-wire fences.
After she died, her family gave the train set to the local Holocaust museum.
They put it out on display, but without Hitler’s speeches playing in a loop.
Psych ward
Emily’s patients loved her so much, they didn’t ever want to leave the hospital.
They’d hide from the orderlies with the wheelchairs and discharge papers.
Or, even worse, they’d hurt themselves just so they could stay.
Emily needed to clear the beds before the administration cracked down, so she brought in a tattoo artist.
“Every day you stay, we’re tattooing a Hello Kitty on your ass,” she said. “When we run out of ass, they go on your face.”
All of the patients checked out that day.
Except one. Who loved Hello Kitty.
She was moved to the psych ward.
Weekly Challenge #779 – Unlimited
- Lizzie
- Richard
- Serendipidy
- Tom
- Duane
- Norval Joe
- Jared
- Planet Z
LIZZIE
The phone call was short. The woman spoke fast. The construction or something… The hall is too small…
She spoke too fast. The construction was fine. He checked. The hall was fine too.
The phone call was short. She blabbered a few words. And she hung up. The construction she said, the hall…?
What does she know? She heard stories about this and that and she had the gall to think she could replace him, yes, the gall.
The other phone call was also short. “How much?” The man also replied fast.
No one would ever take his place. Ever.
RICHARD
Ticket to ride
My thirteenth birthday, and I was thrilled to receive an unlimited day pass for a theme park I’d always wanted to visit. I insisted we went immediately, even though it was a national holiday.
The roads were insane, and the hundred mile trip took over four hours. Another two hours queuing to get in, and then a further hour waiting in line for the Devil’s Mountain Thunderbolt Experience -the greatest experience ever, according to the hype.
I’ve never vomited so much in my life.
After seven long hours, and one short ride.
All I wanted, was to go back home!
SERENDIPIDY
The judge recommended an unlimited term in custody.
It was, he explained, the only fitting sentence for an immortal being, whose crimes were as evil and inhuman as mine.
I appealed, of course.
And won.
I successfully argued an unlimited term of imprisonment was itself, inhuman, and therefore could not be rightfully handed down by a mere mortal judge… And besides, with immortality at my disposal, I had all the time in the world to become a reformed character.
It was, of course, a lie.
I’ll never reform, but who is going to live long enough to learn the truth?
TOM
Not quite right
When we say something is Unlimited is the usage correct? We tend to shoot
for the upper range. A striving, the place where the rising ape meets the
falling angle. Or a word destine for an affirmation poster. Wouldn’t it be
just as proper to dial down to zero. Take the term unloved, unread, or
even unsophisticated. Unlimitedly unloved, Unlimitedly unread, Unlimitedly
unsophisticated. Not a ring endorsement there, aye. Is it because we rail
against continent containment, so we are willing to walk right out of
Africa? Stuff that limed limed-y thing. Or is it just a catch phrase in
Wicked?
DUANE
A ten-year-old only needs a towel and a safety pin to be a superhero. Being a real superhero takes training, equipment, and an unlimited supply of cash. That’s why you only see billionaire self-made superheroes.
Luckily, we have the Internet. Anything can be learned on YouTube. With 3D printers you can create cool costumes and gadgets. If you need a name, you can’t go wrong asking for suggestions on social media. For the money, set up a simple go-fund-me page. Just remember to let everyone know that for the cost of a cup of coffee they can change the world.
NORVAL JOE
Billbert and his parents stood on the sidewalk scanning the dark bushes and trees along the Air Bnb. There were an unlimited number of places for a wily super villain to hide.
“Do you see her?” Billbert whispered to his mother.
“See who?” his mother asked.
“Nuclear Fission,” Billbert and his father said in unison.
“Oh. No. She’s not around. I would know if she was anywhere in the neighborhood. The only thing hiding in the bushes is a cat and a girl with blond hair.”
As if on command, Linoliamanda stepped from the bushes holding a large orange cat.
JARED
I met my wife at work. Sort of. We both worked for the same national supermarket chain: she, in Human Resources at a warehouse in California; I, in the corporate offices in Idaho.
We met over the phone. Our first phone call lasted several hours. It was fundamentally work related; we just kept getting distracted with side conversations.
We started talking at home on nights and weekends. I changed cell phone providers to the same as hers because they offered unlimited minutes between customers.
At the height of our courtship, our phone bills showed ‘unlimited minutes used’ in the thousands.
PLANET Z
Cellular and internet providers claim to offer unlimited plans.
But if you use a certain amount of data, they will reduce your speed.
“It’s still unlimited,” they say. “Just slower, you pig. That’s all.”
“But that’s still a limit,” you say.
Then they point out the contract and offer to sell you a new unlimited plan.
“There’s no speed limits on this one ever,” they say.
So, I find out where their executives live.
And when they drive to work, I get in front of them and slow down.
Swerving quickly to cut them off when they try to pass.
The number you dialed
When I got home, there were hundreds of messages on my machine.
One by one, people congratulating me. Way to go. You did it.
It felt good, but I had no idea what they were congratulating me for.
Nobody actually said what it was.
Just congratulations. Well done. You finally made it.
And then came the condolences.
Oh, we’re so sorry. It will be okay. Better luck next time.
Some people were crying, begging for me to call them back to let them know I’m alright.
The next morning, I had my number changed, and I went back to work.
Their last meal
Recently, I had two teeth pulled and replaced with implants.
Just as condemned killers get a final meal on death row, I gave my teeth a final meal on their last day.
It was a packet of caramel chocolates. The gooiest, stickiest, sweetest I could find.
The loose teeth in their sockets were excruciating, but after serving me for almost fifty years, I figured I’d let them have their moment.
Even pondered going to the mall for some rhinestones or bling so they could go out in style.
But even a condemned tooth needs to maintain its dignity, I feel.
An honest one
Fred liked to throw money around.
No, he didn’t give it away to people.
He just threw it around.
After he threw it around, he’d collect it all up.
If any of it was missing, he’d shake people down for it.
Literally shake people down.
As in shake them violently, sometimes picking them up by the ankles, turning them over, and shaking them.
He’d then toss them aside, count up the money, and take only what he was missing. Not a penny more.
Fred may have been a bully and a braggart, but at least he was an honest one.
As the crow flies
It’s eighteen miles to Denver as the crow flies.
It’s also eighteen miles to Denver as the crow walks.
Or drives. Or rides a bus. Or rides a bicycle.
Why don’t I say it’s eighteen miles to Denver and leave out the crow reference?
I don’t know. It just sounds better that way.
Makes me sound like a country boy.
I guess if I wanted to sound like an Australian, I’d say 18 miles as the kangaroo hops.
Except that they use metric down there.
Do they have crows down there?
And how far is it from there to Denver?
I wouldn’t miss it for the world
There’s a show coming up soon.
I was the first in line for a ticket.
I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
That evening, outside the theatre, a man in a black cloak offered me the world.
“For your ticket,” he grinned.
I thought about it for a bit.
“Nah,” I said, going into the theatre.
He ended up giving someone else the world for their ticket.
Unbridled chaos may have reigned outside the theatre, but inside, I enjoyed the performance.
“Good, isn’t it?” said the man in the black cloak.
“Shhhh,” I hissed. “I’m trying to watch the show.”
In Elysium
She felt the cool grass on her back, the warmth of the sun.
Slowing gliding her hand, feeling every blade bending with her fingers.
The pain was gone. All of it.
Holding up her hand, her smooth skin.
Young again.
Sitting up, looking around at the low rolling hills, the soothing blue sky.
Trees in the distance, and a river winding through the hills.
Elysium.
She would go to the river and drink and swim and laugh, releasing all her memory and fear and pain to the water.
And be free from everything forever in an endless, blissful, eternal dance.