Respect the flag

Show respect to the flag when it passes.
Don’t stand there and point and stare at it.
Yes, the flag is floating in the air on its own.
This is not for us to question or wonder why.
It just does this.
It has done this for years.
Long ago, my grandfather told me about how his grandfather told him to show respect to the flag.
Asking how long this has been happening is not respecting the flag.
The flag is here. The flag is now.
The flag always has been, and always will be.
And we must respect it.

Weekly Challenge #777 – Tilting

Basket case cat

LIZZIE

Imagine being in hospital. You can’t move. You can barely breathe.
No one believes you.
Imagine peering through the window and seeing the elegant bridge crossing the river all lit up, beautiful at night.
Imagine the little dots of light coming from the fishing boats, like fireflies.
Yes, imagine smiling and thinking I will die in a few minutes, but I’ll die having the most gorgeous view.
Imagine they still don’t believe you. And you still can’t breathe.
But you’re smiling. You’re smiling because that tilted postcard window is your hope, your only hope, the hope that keeps you breathing.

RICHARD

A Titanic Effort

The tilting had was quite noticeable now, I had to prop my music stand between my knees, and a stray flute had begun a steady roll across the floor.

Our conductor raised his hands, and the sounds of Strauss rang out amidst the shouts and screams around us.

Now fighting to stay upright, we battled on bravely, determined to finish this one, final performance, barely aware of the terror and panic, we played on, until – one by one – the notes were stilled as the icy waters claimed us for their own.

Leaving only the music of waves and tortured metal.

SERENDIPIDY

The sun was a problem.

From the position he’d taken, it was blinding him. He blinked, and coloured blotches filled his vision. This was no good; it wouldn’t do at all.

Thankfully, such things were easily fixed, and he adjusted the angle of his hat, tilting it so that the brim shaded his eyes from the sun’s glare.

Blinking rapidly to adjust; his sight began to clear, and he squinted ahead, watching and waiting for the critical moment.

The sound of motorcycles filled the street; and the motorcade came into view.

From behind the grassy knoll, three shots rang out.

TOM

Tilting for Fun and Profit

In Poker if you’re not intent on winning for a long long time, you can
deal hands that will drive players insane. The goal is to create a titling
so strong the moment you go for the kill, hand may well go for your
throat, best to serious muscle close at hand. I got this deep move with
faro shuffles that servers up pairs and broken straights. Most player
start out with a slight tic, but hand for hand a feral look clouds their
eyes. You know the monkey brain just got its ass kick by the old reptilian
brain.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert’s father looked at his wife with a tilting half smile.”Gee, honey. A name change? I thought you liked the name, Blanketmaker.”
She put her hand on his arm and returned a much more endearing smile. “Of course I do, sweetie. I meant my superhero name. ‘The Secretary’ sounds so, I don’t know, weak? It elicits no fear or respect. Not like Nuclear Fission. I want something strong and commanding.”
Billbert laughed. “How about, Mom.”
She looked at her son. “What about what, Billbert?”
Billbert shook his head. “No, Mom. I think the name Mom is strong and commands respect.”

JARED

Tommy’s Steel Balls

Darkness. A metallic scrape, followed by dulled clinking. Electronics buzzing to life. Light. Then rolling, falling, landing. Shuddering into a socket. A spring whines in a rising pitch of compression. A pause. Then a soft swish, and an incredible punch. Immediate acceleration. Rising, banking, turning, dipping. A cacophony of electro-mechanical music, punctuated by chirps, chimes, zips. Non-stop movement, crashing into every surface, immediately impelled in another direction. A bump from below, the floor shifts unexpectedly. A sharp buzzer screeches. Suddenly, everything goes dead. All is quiet. Pathetic echoing rumble. Over a precipice. Falling. A thud. Darkness.

RICK

Tilting
It’s one thing to be a biker at 6-2 and 240 pounds of solid muscle … Quite another when you’re 5’6 and 150 pounds. Dave was the latter, and Dave wasn’t the type to take shit from anyone.

So many “rights” from so many big men …

Broken jaw, ribs, teeth, and nose … He never really learned when to shut his mouth.

He’s surprised a few of them big boys, but mostly, a whole lot of ass whippings.

His whole body kind of tilts to the right.

Older now Dave still won’t shut that mouth … and he still don’t take no shit!

TURA

Tilting
———
The Tilting Tower of Pisa is more remarkable than its more prosaic cousin, the Leaning Tower, for no matter what angle you look at it from, it always tilts to the left or the right.

If you try going close up, to determine the direction it is really tilting, you only get confused.

People who fly cameras on drones around and above the Tilting Tower obtain footage that they can make no sense of.

Some take the Tilting Tower to be proof that we are living in a simulated world, and the Tilting Tower is a bug in the simulation.

PLANET Z

There’s a stop sign at the corner of Main and Ash.
It’s been there for years.
Bumperstickers for whatever band of cause or phrase of the day slapped across the front and back, scraped off, and replaced again.
The pole’s not quite straight, it leans a bit to the left.
But it’s never been hit or knocked over, like so many signs in the neighborhood.
The Main and Ash sign’s been knocked over so many times.
The Dead End sign, too.
But not the Stop sign.
I guess people respect a stop sign more than others.
So it’s still there.

The artist’s idea

The artist dreamed up an idea.
And he kept it in his head.
His agent sold the idea to a businessman.
“You own the idea,” said the artist to the businessman. “But you will never know it.”
“Brilliant concept!” said the businessman.
The next day, the artist went to the grocery store, where he was told he could pay for food he could never eat.
“Oh, is it for charity?” said the artist. “A food drive?”
“No,” said the grocer. ‘Thank you for shopping with us.”
The artist went home and starved to death.
The businessman sued the artist’s agent.

I am an artist

I am an artist.
I make art.
No, I do not paint. Or sculpt. Or draw.
I write. I write stories.
Nor do I dance or sing, but I do perform.
This is a performance. I perform what I write.
Although it’s more of a reading than a performance.
Maybe when I first read these, it was a performance.
I tried to put spirit and emotion into the words.
Now, I just read them.
Good or bad, get it on the tape.
Just like good or bad, get it on the page.
And I move on to the next story.

Drug trials

Double-blind trials.
Half of the patients get the drug.
Half don’t get the drug. They get a placebo.
That’s something that doesn’t do anything.
The patients don’t know if they’re getting the drug.
The doctors don’t know either.
The pills look the same.
The list of who got the drug and who got the placebo isn’t known until the trial is over.
Well, unless the patient is extremely rich.
Then, they’re taken out of the trial.
And just given the drug.
If it turns out to be horribly toxic, oh well.
Plenty more money to pay for further research, right?

The piano bar

We tried out a new piano bar Downtown on a friend’s recommendation.
I had the grand piano.
She had an upright piano.
They were good, but not great.
“Oh, those are the house pianos,” said the bartender, handing up menus. “I highly recommend the Steinways.”
So, we each had a Steinway Grand D9, and man, they were amazing.
The resonance and the pitch were impressive.
But at the end of the night, oh man, the check was a fortune.
I had to sell my tux, and she had to pawn her jewelry.
Next time we’ll stick with the house pianos.

Inventing cancer

Dan invented cancer.
He was trying to invent something else, like an eggbeater, and instead, he invented cancer.
He didn’t mean to.
But sitting there on his workbench, there it was.
“What the hell do I do with this?” he asked Norma, his wife.
“You should probably tell someone,” she said.
“The government?”
“Sure.”
So, they called the government.
Fifteen minutes later, men in hazmat suits barged into their house and took the cancer away.
Dan went back to his workbench, and looked over his blueprints.
“Oh, I know what I did wrong…”
Norma made the best scrambled eggs ever.

Gorilla glue

What is Gorilla Glue?
Is it glue used by gorillas?
Used to glue gorillas together?
Or is it made from gorillas?
I sent it to a lab, and they said it didn’t contain anything related to gorillas.
Then, I gave a bottle of it to a gorilla and watched.
It opened the bottle and wiped it all over its cage.
As the glue dried, things started to stick to the gorilla, and the gorilla got mad.
We introduced another gorilla to the first gorilla’s cage, and they fought for a bit.
But they never ended up stuck to each other.

Weekly Challenge #776 – PICK TWO Ruins, Cone, A toast!, Rebel, Dive, Name change, Glow

Dirty Princess

LIZZIE

“A toast! My kingdom for a toast!” The crowd at the café chuckled. They all knew him. They all loved his silly jokes. The room was always dark. That gave them a sense of protection and the silly, often crude, jokes made them feel like they belonged. One day he didn’t show up. They looked for him everywhere. Weeks went by. Then they received a letter at the café. “I’m fine. I got a job digging up some ruins. The archaeologists are OK. But they lack one thing. They don’t have toast!” The crowd at the café chuckled once again.

RICHARD

Rebel for a Lost Cause

I’ve always been a rebel, albeit not a very successful one.

The trouble is, I really don’t like to make a fuss; so whilst other rebels are toppling governments, standing up against perceived injustices and sticking it to the man, my own rage against the machine may seem somewhat insignificant.

Still, rebellion is rebellion, no matter how it may manifest itself.

So, while I still have breath in me, I’ll continue to have an extra sugar in my tea; I’ll refuse to go to bed at a reasonable hour; and, whenever somebody raises a toast… I’m never clinking my glass.

SERENDIPIDY

From the ruins of a shattered life, I crawl: The embodiment of pain, anger and dismay.

Within my breast beats a heart devoid of love, compassion or care. I know only hatred and pain, despair and woe.

I’m coming for you, and when I find you, I will destroy you… Break you… Rend your flesh and torment your soul.

Because I will never forget those vows you swore and a toast! To us, our health and happiness: To you, just hollow words, but to me a loving promise you failed to keep.

Just remember.

Your promise.

For better, or worse.

TOM

In the wake of endless sorrow

She burns bright with rage. It tempers every move. Make no mistake her
rebel heart with drop you without a second thought. Your glowing remains
will smolder beside some long-forgotten road. Your only hope to master the
intensity of task at hand. Never waver from the glorious quest or let less
soul dissuade you with words of comfort. In the night of a 1000 flames be
the rebel glow be hers alone and know at the end of all things you rose to
be the one. The light breaks set your mind of stone, your heart to iron,
you will to iron.

JARED

A Lucky Man and a Brave Woman

Their courtship and engagement had lasted a little more than 11 months. James would have been fine getting married on the anniversary of their engagement, but Natalie didn’t want to wait. And she couldn’t resist being a ‘June bride’.
The planning and the ceremony were a blur of memory now, as they were seated at the head table.
“Ahem… Hi, everyone. I’m Michael, James’ Best Man. I’ve known James since Second Grade. I met Natalie a week after she met James. James, hold on to her. You will never find another woman willing to be ‘Mrs. Hooker’.”

NORVAL JOE

Billbert and his parents arrived at the Air Bnb. They punched in the code and entered the house. When they flipped on the lights Billbert took in the view. A table was prominently displayed in the middle of the sitting room with an array of bottles of wine, cheese and crackers.
“Dive in, Billbert,” his mother said to him pointing to the crackers. She picked up a single serving bottle of wine. “Maybe we should have a toast.”
Mr. Blanketmaker laughed. “A toast to what? Our house in ruins?”
His wife shook her head. “No. How about a name change?”

PLANET Z

The rebels fled Freedom Town, leaving behind piles of dead hostages and setting fires as they left.
Fire suppression crews did their best to limit the damage.
Rebel flags on the poles were wired to explosives.
Anti-government posters were chemically treated with poison.
The water system was poisoned, too.
The rebels claimed the government did it all.
And the media repeated their lie.
So, the government raided the newspapers, radio stations, and television networks.
Expelled the ambassadors of countries that hosted rebel training camps and condemned the government’s response.
And the war raged no, there was nothing civil about it.

The timeline

After the timeline shattered, the phrase “How was your day?” took on new meaning.
Everybody literally had their own day.
So, when the timeliness settled down a bit, and they crossed and overlapped here and there, people would ask each other how their day was.
Instead of sharing tales of epic adventures, things were pretty much like they were before the timeline’s shattering.
There weren’t castles and unicorns and dragons before the rifts happened. It’s not like they’d magically appear now.
They all had the same boring, unremarkable lives they had before, just living them separately across the newly-formed multiverse.