Weekly Challenge #1041 – Classic

  • Lizzie
  • Richard
  • Tom
  • Serendipidy
  • Planet Z

The next topic is Chip

RICHARD

Might as well jump
So, my mate John from the tribute band, Fan Halen, was feeling the show needed jazzing up a bit. It needed more energy, more of a rock n roll vibe.
He asked me for some tips.
I mulled a few ideas around in my mind, eventually suggesting that maybe he should give the classic stage dive a shot.
We decided he should try it at the next gig.
All was going well, right up until that moment.
John is the only guy I know that can throw himself on top of a tightly packed mass of fans…
And miss completely.

SERENDIPIDY

Classic signs of a violent struggle: significant abrasions, torn nails, multiple defensive cuts to the hands and arms, and a blood spatter pattern that clearly demonstrated this had been a protracted and extremely vicious attack.
I’ll be the first to admit, it wasn’t the tidiest of crime scenes that I’d left in my wake, but life can be like that – even with meticulous planning, things can get messy.
Then again, I like messy.
It’s my trademark.
If I left the scene, clean, tidy and clinical, you wouldn’t know it was my handiwork.
And, I really can’t have that, can I?

LIZZIE

Classic. A car? The radio. Classic music? No, the radio. The music on the radio? No, the radio. The officer closed his notepad, shook his head, and walked away. Classic. Someone overheard it. Why classic? The radio. Oh, not the cop? No, the radio. Why did he walk away? Don’t know, but… the radio. No one paid attention. But he knew. The radio had killed them. So, he grabbed it, and walked away. Classic. The word kept repeating in his head. When he smashed the damn thing, it made a fizzling sound and that was it. Classic problem-solving strategy, brutality.

TOM

The face that launched a 1000 ships

She was a classic. Timely with an air of certainty. One could not own such a spirit, only assess it her continuation. To that end I have amassed a considerable fortune in protection lesser soul from gain purchase. Some might point out I may have lost my way in this pursuit. But look at her, she shines brighter than the brightest star. Markus took for last long gaze. He drew the curtain. Locked the door. The air above the bunker was -25. It was 200 miles to the air field. As he fly into the rising sun, Markus thought safe at last.

PLANET Z

I remember when Coke became New Coke, and then they brought back original Coke as Coke Classic.
Pepsi never became New Pepsi or Pepsi Classic, nor did Dr. Pepper, RC. or any other soda.
Sprite, Mountain Dew, and Tab didn’t change at all, either.
Fanta, that Nazi soda, has never changed.
Well, when I say changed, I mean branding.
A lot of them have changed from sugar to corn syrup.
Although now many claim to use cane sugar.
But none are changing to New or Classic.
They just say cane sugar on the front and then in the ingredients list.

The race to the bottom

Art critics are racists.
Take two neo-expressionist artists: Cy Tombly and Jean Basquiat.
Both made rudimentary art, scribbles and scrawled words.
They described Twombly as brilliant, sublime, and amazing.
Praising garbage.
And they described Basquiat as chaotic, primitive, untrained, and child-like.
A graffiti-spraying amateur.
Which, to be fair, he was.
A homeless drug addict scraped off the sidewalk by Andy Warhol, caged up in a basement, and pumping out art for the dealer upstairs to peddle.
Warhol orders an employee to silk-screen up a logo, and then Basquiat defaces it.
Me, I describe both as crap.
Regardless of their race.

Disappear

My parents are dead.
My father’s brother, my gay uncle, had no children.
And before that, the name was what some clerk wrote down.
At the immigration desk in the port of San Francisco.
When my great-grandfather said Zigmund.
And he heard Simon.
So, nobody in the old country.
Not that any would have survived what happened there.
I have no children.
My brother does.
He has a daughter.
But she will take on the name of whatever husband or wife she takes.
Her children will have their name.
And my family name will be no more.
Simon says, disappear.

Small town walk

It’s a small town, and the grocery store, pharmacy, and a few restaurants are about seven minutes walk. So, unless I’ve got a lot of groceries to pick up, I like to walk. I mean, I walk two or three times a day for exercise and it’s working. The other night, I walked to the pharmacy to pick something up and they had already closed early. And I laughed. I hadn’t run out of pills yet, so I could wait till tomorrow, and I enjoyed the walk there, and I enjoyed the walk back, and I’ll walk there again tomorrow.

Robot hot dog vendors

A lot of people have opinions on the robot umpires, but I’m looking forward to robot hot dog vendors.
Because I don’t want to wait for that shouting guy to walk around with the hot dogs.
Nor do I want to get up and go get a hot dog.
I know I can order a hot dog and have it delivered to me, but that guy often has a bunch of orders in his route and ends up taking as long as the shoutong guy walking around.
Just put a cannon on the roof, aim it, and I’ll catch it.

Render unto Ralph

Jesus may have said to render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s, but when it came to his next-door neighbor Ralph, he said screw that creep.
Ralph was always dumping his lawn clippings over the fence on to Jesus’ yard.
And he parked his chariot in a way that blocked Jesus’ driveway.
He once caught Ralph with his mail, and Ralph said he was just coming over to hand it to Jesus.
Yeah, right.
Jesus never believed that Judas betrayed him.
He thought it was Ralph.
Judas confessed, but Jesus said “Yeah, right. Uh huh. I know it was Ralph.”

It’s a von trapp

I was sitting by a stream when an old man carrying a worn out map, walked up to the stream, crossed it, and made a mark on his map.
I’ve done it, he shouted. I finally done it.
I got up and walked to the stream edge and asked him done what
I’ve climbed every mountain and forwarded every stream, he said. I did everything that singing bitch told me to do, and I finally done it.
He showed me the map, and sure enough, every mountain and stream had been marked with ink.
Congratulations, I said. And we hugged.

Weekly Challenge #1040 – PICK TWO Cover band, Slow down, Empty streets, Sculpture gallery, Shred

The next topic is Classic

LEWIE

As the tour guide brought the group through a museum, a cheesy cover band was in one room playing ambient music of slicing, shredding, and melting cheese on a grill, another member was stretching mozzarella, while another was intensely focused curing a wheel of cheddar.

The exhibit itself was full of various sculptures of hats, swords, animals, flowers, and more. They were colorful and seemed to wave in the air. It almost seemed as if static electricity drew them towards you. In each room, the artist could be heard twisting, rubbing, and shaping new sculptures made of vibrant, colorful balloons.

LIZZIE

Slow down, she cried. The streets were empty. A strict curfew was in force. We can’t slow down, he whispered. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. He couldn’t leave her behind. She was his world. She had taught him to believe that everything could go back to what it was. That’s when he saw them. The three red orbs, scanning the alleyway. He instinctively covered her body with his, right before they fired. Years later, she told their child, now the leader of a democratic country, the story of that day when they had to run and hide.

RICHARD

I’m with the band
He was in a cover band; they called themselves Fan Halen.
He played guitar. In his mind he could shred like Eddie, but to be absolutely honest, his two-handed tapping was just a mess of fumbling fingers and he was the only guitarist I knew who routinely ended up with pick-related injuries.
The rest of the band were pretty awful too, and behind their backs we used to refer to them as Van Failin’!
I drove them to all their gigs, and despite the dreadful music, I always stayed for the whole show.
Why?
Two words – the groupies!

TOM

1040

by my reckoning this week is the 20th year at the challenge. So thank to L for what was a long strange trip it’s been.

Dawn patrol

It was 4-a-clock in Montmartre. The locales were hosing down the street from the debris of the swarms of Germans and Russians had pasted. I had slowed down to a sub-stroll among the glittering empty streets. Circling out from the main square I came upon a rather shabby structure and it’s garage. In a dormer window was this abstract stick model. A small sign in front of the build quietly stated this was Pabla Picasso’s studio. No fanfare, just acknowledgment. Best sculpture gallery in the city of light. If you ever get a chance to visit, throw away the guidebook, wander.

SERENDIIDY

Slow down!
I know it’s late, and the empty streets are dark and deserted.
You’re scared, and that’s understandable. You’re rushing, focussed on getting to your destination as quickly as possible.
You walk briskly, glancing over your shoulder, avoiding alleyway entrances, ears attuned to any unexpected sound.
But, there’s really no need to rush. Slow down, take it easy, savour the moment, you can afford to take your time, I promise you.
You see, no matter what you do, whether you dawdle or sprint, I’m going to get you anyway.
So, make the most of the time you have left.

NORVAL JOE

“Slow down, a minute,” Sabrina said. “You don’t expect Loony Bin to come on a special mission like this. I don’t mean to shred your hopes about a happy little threesome heading off on a great adventure. But she just doesn’t fit.”

From the first time he met Sabrina, she had insisted on making all of his choices for him, and now Billbert was fed up. “First of all,” he growled at her. “I want you to stop calling Mindi names. And second of all, she’s been a friend of mine for a long time, and she fits to me.”

PLANET Z

When I was very sick, I kept extensive notes and every receipt and doctors report.
I deducted all of the healthcare expenses, and eventually I got better.
After a while, the notes and receipts were taking up a lot of space in my closet.
So I dragged out the paper shredder and fed the documents in one by one.
A few minutes later, the shredder slowed down.
The overheating light came on.
I went out for a walk, came back, and continued shredding.
Until the light came back on again.
Eventually, the bin was empty.
And I got sick again.

It spreads

I guess it isn’t working out so well.
Protestors without masks.
People coming across the border for health care.
Kids being kids.
Fingerpointing. Blame.
Fools in stores refusing to wear masks.
Beaches. Parks.
Going out when we don’t have to.
(You know, like my third grocery run of the week.)
Or when we’re sick.
I see the neighbors doing laundry without masks.
Or going to their cars or walking their dogs.
Dumbasses.
Not washing our hands.
We’re fat. We’re sick.
We’re having the same unhealthy shit delivered to us.
It’s all bad choices.
You can only control your own actions.

The package never boils

Two months ago, they launched a new series of video cards.
But they didn’t make enough of them, so they were impossible to get.
Unless you went through a scalper on eBay, of course.
And they were damned expensive.
For the past two months, barely any of the cards get to the stores.
Scalpers keep snapping them up.
But, thankfully, the prices are coming down.
I did the math, and finally ordered one.
I bookmarked the shipping tracker.
It’s up in a browser tab.
Every five minutes, I hit refresh.
A watched pot never boils.
And the doorbell doesn’t ring.