George Sets Foot

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
In fact, his captain was so angry at him, he ordered George never to set foot on his ship ever again.
“If you ever do, I’ll run you through with my cutlass and have your guts as garters!”
So, George’s shipmates carried him everywhere on the ship.
He would have gotten a wheelchair, but pirate ships aren’t handicap-accessible.
“Oh, so you think you’re smart?” asked the captain.
“Yes,” said George.
The captain thought for a moment. “I guess you are,” he said.
And he made George his First Mate.

Weekly Challenge – Rick

A Walk In The Wood

I found it on the map and had to explore it. 400 acres of land right beside the very worst part of DC. Car parked and gone in my pocket I went in.

The forest was amazing .. two streams, a pond, a 10′ waterfall, 200 year old oak trees …

… and a homeless camp.

All of a sudden I was standing in it … surprisingly … They seemed happy to see me!

We shook hands, introduced ourselves, they offered Brandy, we drank and talked … Swapped life stories.

Lives not So different at all!

There but for the grace of God go I.

Weekly Challenge #751: Camp

NOTE: I figured out what was wrong with the Yeti AFTER I recorded this. Bad cable. Oh well. Getting a new cable when I get the new system this week.

Blep

LIZZIE

What if I lived right there where the butterflies swayed in the air?
What if I lived right there?
The birds chirped, and flew away.
What if the narrow streets were alive to the brim with color? And not gray with emptiness?
What if the tears didn’t rain down the walls alive with the whiteness of summer?
What if the butterflies weren’t gone, and the birds?
What if I lived there, right there, and not here in the middle of the forest by a sizzling fire?
I want to go back to that small town where the narrow streets smiled.

RICHARD

Arrrrrr…

Captain Blackbeard’s Pirate Themed Holiday Camp didn’t quite turn out as we’d expected.

The brochure had promised ‘adventure on the high seas’, and ‘swashbuckling exploits and drama’, served up with a ‘healthy dash of good old-fashioned plank walking, keel hauling and deck scrubbing’.

Unfortunately, the keel hauling and deck scrubbing were precisely that, and as for our fellow pirates…

A bunch of bloodthirsty Somalian ex-fishermen, who treated us like scum and thought nothing of putting us in the firing line when the navy arrived.

Beats me how they managed to get those five star reviews on Trip Advisor!

SERENDIPIDY

When they told you not to camp in the woods, you really should have listened to their advice.

When they told you it wasn’t safe to be out alone in the wild, you should have heeded their words.

When they said you’d be miles from help, with no phone signal and no means of rescue should you fall in harm’s way, you should have taken them seriously.

Because now, in the darkness, lost, alone and frightened, all of that now makes perfect sense.

But, don’t worry, you’re not entirely alone…

Because I’m here too.

And I’m coming to get you!

TOM

The Camp

The edge of the camp was growing. Each day some half dead child would stand at the fence. Sometime with an adult, more often alone. Most stared blankly with an expression of deep indifference, a total sapping of actionable resolve. A few, not many, still had a fire in their eyes. Mac was called when these faces appeared. He needed that fire and long had learned how to uses that rage to the benefit of the camp. Keeping these children in a group also allowed for successful assimilation, or in the sadder cases extreme relocation. “Greater good,” he say

NORVAL JOE

As Billbert carried Linoliamanda up above the battle he saw that the two camps were vastly different. While the super villains had destroyed the superhero headquarters, the heroes were mostly unharmed and outnumbered the villains by five to one.

Billbert flew Linoliamanda home, landing on her front porch. “When you fell on Benedict Arnold, I thought you were a goner.”

She smiled then clasped a hand to her bloody forehead. “Nothing could make me a traitor to you, Billbert.”

“Thanks, I guess,” he said. “We should probably tell your parents what happened and get you checked out at the hospital.”

TODD

The Yahoo Messenger video chat with my future wife abruptly ended with, “Gotta go!” when the shooting started.

Outgoing orange tracers from the south tower marked an aggressive conversation. An M240B barked a throaty command. An unseen AK-47 wisecracked a response. I radioed QRF when the perimeter breach red flare illuminated the sky adding an exclamation point.

Reaching the tower, I saw the soldier and his Iraqi guard duty buddy assaulting the cement barrier of the civilian dining facility.

“What are you shooting at?” I yelled.

“There are a bunch of dudes running around in there!”

“You mean the cooks?”

Camp Caldwell Coordinates: 33.727597, 45.236648

PLANET Z

We sent the kids off to camp.
All kids should go off to camp.
They will learn many things at camp.
That’s what the state says, that all kids should go off to camp and they will learn many things, so we send our kids to camp.
When we were kids, we were sent off to camp.
And we learned many things at camp.
Sometimes, kids do not come home from camp.
Those are the ones who learned the wrong things.
Or could not be taught the right things.
If that happens, we go off to camp.
And don’t return.

George the Adventurer

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
This didn’t stop him from trying, though.
George and his crewmates learned about a castle that contained treasure, guarded by an evil wizard.
They put together a plan, sailed to the island, and raided the castle.
After disarming a series of traps, they finally made it to the treasure room.
The wizard surprised them, and incinerated them with a fireball.
“That’s not fair,” whined George, dropping his dice and crumpling up his character sheet.
“Life’s not fair,” said the captain, behind his DM screen. “Now go swab the deck.”

George at the Helm

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
So, the captain gave him plenty of opportunities to improve his skills.
“Take the wheel,” said the captain, walking away from the bridge.
So, George did. And after a while, he got the hang of steering the ship.
When he saw a bridge up ahead, he signaled and shouted for them to raise and let them pass.
The bridgekeeper didn’t signal back.
After five tries, George fired a warning shot and shouted angrily.
The bridgekeeper shouted back, “This isn’t a drawbridge!”
George steered hard right, and capsized the ship.

George Doesn’t Kill

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
The first time he killed someone, he became sick to his stomach and threw up.
And he swore to never kill anybody ever again.
He’d shove people overboard, or throw a lasso around them.
At the very most, he’d wound them in the leg or the arm, somewhere non-life threatening.
But never kill. Never again.
So when the captain told him to make a prisoner walk the plank into shark-infested waters, well…
He did.
Because he wasn’t killing the prisoner. It was sharks biting the hell out of him.

George the Painter

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He painted them well enough, though.
I mean, when you take into account the deck tossing and turning in rough seas, the paintings still came out pretty good.
And these days, investors will run up the auction value of mediocre paintings.
Dealers rushed to the docks to fight over his artwork.
George’s art shows were extraordinary affairs.
His shipmates would raid and loot the gallery, and they’d rob the patrons.
“So lifelike!” exclaimed an afficianado, one hand on a wineglass, the other clutching a cutlass wound on his belly.

George the Author

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He know a lot of good pirates, though.
So, he talked to them, wrote a book, and claimed to be the utmost authority on pirates.
Except that his book was a complete fabrication.
Well, okay, the dates and events were real.
But George substituted his own name for each of the heroic pirates involved.
With each edition, George grew more bold, daring, wealthy, and famous.
Thankfully, nobody bought George’s book.
He’d appear at bookstores for signings, but nobody showed up.
Eventually, George gave up writing, and took up bowling.

George Turkel

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Instead of raiding and pillaging, he would sit back and observe his shipmates.
Sometimes, he took out a tape deck and interviewed them about their life.
Or he’d interview the villagers that they’d just attacked and looted.
Sometimes, he’d talk to slaves. Or plantation owners.
Progressive and left-wing radio stations would play his interviews.
His books weren’t best-sellers, but they were popular among the disenfranchised and the marginal.
A champion of the common man, they called him.
Or was that Studs Terkel?
I get the two of them confused.

Weekly Challenge #750: PICK TWO: a new beginning, library, Ireland, storyteller, friends, home

Basket case

LIZZIE

The deal included shipping the stuff across the ocean and delivering it safely.
But the stuff wasn’t delivered.
“What’s going on? You don’t know where Hong Kong is?”
He got off the phone and… there it was, the ship. Empty.
“Where’s the stuff? It’s worth millions.”
No one knew.
Well, the source did. They were testing everyone’s loyalty.
Hong Kong didn’t like it.
Updated offer. “Incoming delivery. Free.”
A new crew had to be hired because heads were removed from their respective bodies and shipped back.
“Now, send us the stuff. Hong Kong has more brilliant ideas. Yes, we do.”

RICHARD

The Storyteller

The storyteller gazed at us in the firelight, smiled, and eased himself into a more comfortable position.

We waited expectantly, hoping that – just for once – he’d give us something decent, something with a different ending that didn’t have the dragon being defeated, the hero marrying the girl, and everybody living happily ever after.

But, as always, it wasn’t to be.

You see, our storyteller would simply recycle the same old tale, with the same characters and the same outcomes, time after time.

He would never give us a surprise ending…

Always the same old story, but with a new beginning.

SERENDIPIDY

My circle of friends like to get together for the occasional evening of board games, and being somewhat obsessive, we like to dress up and make things as realistic as possible.

So, for snakes and ladders, everyone brought candy snakes and wore laddered tights; for Monopoly, we all got blinged-up, smoked cigars and drank champagne; and for mousetrap, we ate cheese and played using sugar mice instead of counters.

This week, we’re playing Cluedo.

I won’t tell you who the victim’s going to be, but I’ve already prepared a hefty length of lead pipe, safely stashed in the library!

NORVAL JOE

Billbert realized, he didn’t like the old man. “What do you mean, Linoliamanda’s not important? She’s my only friend.”
The man didn’t gain any points when he said, “Consider it a chance to start over. Make new friends.”
Billbert headed toward the car and super villains.
“Where are you going?” his mother asked.
“I’m getting Linoliamanda and taking her home.”
Billbert dove forward and flew, skimming, inches above the asphalt of the parking lot. He circled around behind the villains, shot forward and scooped up Linoliamanda, carrying her quickly up into the air.
She hugged Billbert tightly and kissed him.

TOM

An Ireland Tale

I went to visit my ancestral home in Ireland. Story goes my Irish forefather were doctor to the Munster Kings. Not the TV family, the kickass warriors of central Ireland. It is so far south in Cork, you danm near fall off the island. Which is just what the structure was moving toward. What the home lacked in roof it made up in walls. Stone laced with thicket of berries. The berries were wining. Folk in the village said no had live on the land for nearly a century. Still is where I came from, but not likely where I will end.

RICK THOMAS

Ridin’ The Pine

98 years old, born in Hughesville … and would die here soon enough. Never really left.

Small town … mostly farmers …
back then … and now.

At 98 … friends, neighbors, most everyone you knew … dead and gone …

Life gets lonely.

Harry liked to sit in the park, and talk with whoever would stop to listen. And Harry’s stories made it worthwhile. Harry had a story for every street, store, and vacant lot in town … New most everyone’s grandparents …

… WHEN THEY WERE LITTLE KIDS!

Born for this …
Sitting on this wooden bench …
Telling these stories had always been his destiny.

A valued community treasure!

CALEDONIA

Seanchai Sunday
by Caledonia Skytower

Something rustled in the trees like an incantation – a voice pregnant with speech. “Who’s there,” I thought, rather than asked aloud.

“I’m here.” murmured a reply, “The news has reached me. It’s in the wind.”

I marveled at the instinct that triggered this message. “What news?”

“‘Not all those who wander are lost’ the poem says. Well, we have a place for you. Come home, and be welcomed.”

The storytellers speak of fresh starts. Library volumes add to their veracity. It was time.

So we did, and thanks to a friend, a new beginning rose on the dawn horizon.

PLANET Z

I remember my first library card.
It was paper with a metal piece with some kind code they’d crimp into the book slip.
Over time, they got barcodes and a magnetic strip and those RFID chips like credit cards.
In college, I used my student ID for that and my meal plan. More for my meal plan than the library, to be honest.
Now, I just sign in from home, and download a temporary digital book or movie.
I don’t even know where the library is anymore.
They need to keep some real books or computers or stuff somewhere, right?