There’s so much to eat at the state fair.
As long as you want to eat something that’s been battered and fried on a stick.
Because fried things on a stick are easy to eat while you’re walking around the fair.
And you don’t need to carry around a plate or a paper tray.
It started with corn dogs on a stick.
Now, they’ve got fried Snickers bars, fried sticks of butter, fried chocolate-covered bananas, and fried peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
After that, you’ll need a fried Pepto Bismol or Gas-X lollipop. Possibly a stomach-pump.
And a coronary bypass.
Maurice
Some people call me Maurice.
My name isn’t Maurice, mind you.
But Maurice was the name of the guy I replaced at the store.
And they didn’t have any new company shirts in my size.
So, they gave me Maurice’s shirts, with his name on a patch, sewed on to the front.
“We’ll get you your own patches,” said the manager.
But after a day of getting called Maurice, it kinda grew on me.
The next day, Maurice came back for his paycheck.
It said “John” on it.
“Yeah, the same thing happened to me,” said Maurice… I mean John.
Condemned Houses
The first little pig built his mouse out of straw, but the building inspector came by and refused to issue a certificate of occupancy for it.
“A house made of straw?” said the building inspector. “That’s horribly unsafe. Not only will it blow over in a heavy wind, but all it takes is one spark, and you’ll be roasted alive in there.
The building inspector condemned it, and he began the process of issuing demolition orders.
“I can be there next Tuesday,” said The Big Bad Wolf. “And I can handle those wood and brick houses you want demolished, too.”
The Nanny’s Tits
After Amy’s family leave ran out, she hired a nanny to take care of her baby.
But pumping and bottling was such a hassle.
“Here,” said the nanny, taking off her breasts and handing them to Amy. “Give me yours.”
Amy’s back felt a lot better, only having to hold up the nanny’s A-cups instead of her double-D’s.
That’s wasn’t all she felt. She could still feel her baby when she was sucking on her nipple.
And… when the nanny’s boyfriend was visiting… and he…
Amy got her breasts back, fired the nanny, and went back to pumping and bottling.
Weekly Challenge #730 – DENDRITE
- Lizzie
- Richard
- Serendipidy
- Tom
- Norval Joe
- Planet Z
LIZZIE
“…neurotransmitters that communicate with the dendrites,” said the professor standing in front of a large group of students. She didn’t need a class on Biology, but she didn’t feel like having to wait in the cold for two hours. So, she’d joined that class. Things took a bad turn though when the professor asked her about the damn dendrites and the only thing she could think of was “…stress induces atrophy of apical dendrites”. She had no clue where she had read that, but everyone seemed impressed. She smiled and decided that, from then on, she’d wait in the cold.
RICHHARD
Flight 82
We flew low over the delta, the dendrite-like pattern of rivulets growing ever wider as we approached the coast. The sun, dipping low on the far horizon, glinted from the ocean: natural sparkles of light, guiding us toward our destination.
Banking steadily to the West, we saw the distant shadow of land emerging from the twilight. A thrill of anticipation passed through the cabin. Not long to go now, thoughts turned inwards and we fell into a pensive silence.
Within minutes we were at our destination.
Slowly, I reached out and clasped the lever.
And the bomb dropped silently.
SERENDIPIDY
“Hold still, just a little scratch, nothing to worry about.”
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, but felt nothing. I knew he wouldn’t.
I dropped the syringe into the dish, and smoothed a plaster over the wound.
“All done!” I said brightly.
He opened his eyes, which widened in horror as black dendrite tendrils began to spread through beneath his skin.
“What have you done?” He gasped.
“No idea”, I replied, snapping off the latex gloves. “I’m a patient here! I imagine the doctor will work it out though… If he makes it in time.”
“Get well soon”, I winked!
TURA
Report on the planet Procyon II: executive summary
————————————
Transmissions from the recent failed robotic exploration mission indicate that the crust consists almost entirely of dendrite: rock suffused with fine, branching veins. Natural optical fibres channel sunlight down to a depth of at least one hundred metres, fuelling complex patterns of electrical activity.
The entire planet is, in effect, the brain of a thinking entity, apparently able to direct lightning storms and laser blasts of unknown origin. It is not known whether it has any sense of identity, or if communication with it is possible.
Missions to the Procyon system are therefore prohibited pending the development of containment protocols.
TOM
Just a Quiet to Endure
“It is the brain, the little gray cells on which one must rely. One must seek the truth within–not without.” Said the sage Poirot. I ponder that after I finally found the Sunshine Acid in the green shag carpet. It took the better part of two hours, but I was seriously motivated. I was an old hand at the Psychedelic experience. Forest, boardwalk, outside the police department, don’t ask. Never got around to Disneyland, oh and Fantasia too. Might do that tomorrow night. Two tabs of Owsley in fridge. Yup take those little dendrites for stroll down memory lane.
NORVAL JOE
Mr. Wienerheimer followed his wife and son to the front door. “Am I the one missing a few dendrites? How does this make any sense? People have seen Billbert’s super powers. It’s sure to get around.”
Billbert’s mother put a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Listen, Pookie. A few children saw Billbert fly. If they tell someone, who’s going to believe them? They’re just kids.”
Billbert didn’t wait for his father’s response and ran up the stairs to his room. He got out his phone and sent a text to Linoliumanda. “Remember. We got a ride home from the dance.”
PLANET Z
Professor Dendrite referred to himself as Doctor Odd’s nemesis.
He put it on his business cards, a bumpersticker on the Dendritemobile.
He added it to the description of his secret hideout on Google Maps.
His voicemail message said:
“Hi there, this is Professor Dendrite, Doctor Odd’s nemesis, I can’t come to the phone right now, but please leave a message or send me a text, okay?”
But Doctor Odd never acknowledged the relationship.
This infuriated Dendrite.
“If you don’t add me, I’ll destroy New York,” he treatened.
“Go ahead,” said Odd. “It’ll save me the time to do it myself.”
The Child Star
Daisey was born into the spotlight, destined for fame.
One day old, she appeared in a documentary about newborns.
As she grew, so did her career.
Dozens of films, dozens of roles before she could walk.
And when she could, that much more.
The perfect child actress, every moment, calculated perfection.
Her first birthday, blowing out the candles, not just Oscar-worthy, but magical. Pure magic.
And then, the long downward slide.
Other babies took the spotlight away from her.
Daisey settled for supporting roles and B movies.
The producers stopped calling. Her agent dumped her.
Her first word was “WHY?”
Steal your soul
If you look into a man’s eyes, you will see their soul.
The moment you see it, that’s the perfect time to strike.
Leap at them quickly, and try to suck out their soul.
It’s best that you do it while trying not to suck out their eye.
I know that’s hard to do.
Believe me, I’ve tried, and ended up with a screaming man’s eye in my mouth, flailing crazily at me.
So, you do it when they’re asleep in bed.
Wake them, and strike.
Now stop screaming, dammit. I’m going to try to suck out your soul again.
Stroke
Sudden existence. Awareness.
Sounds and shapes.
Pain and fear.
Reaching out, sensation.
No comprehension, no understanding.
Knowing you should know, that you knew all of this.
But it’s just not there.
Every memory, every word locked away.
Like those credit cards you put in a cup, filling it with water.
Putting it in the freezer.
But it’s glass, no, plastic.
You can see them, know they are there, but can’t get to them.
Harder and harder, you hit it, trying, but you can’t.
Day after day, the shapes become faces.
The sounds become voices.
Slowly becoming someone, maybe you again.
The Offer
I usually eat dinner at home.
Well, not dinner, but a bowl full of raw vegetables that I snack on.
But now and then, I’ll pick something up on the way home.
Or stop at someplace.
I had an email offer for Pei Wei, three dollars off.
They were okay, not great, and I finished most of it.
There weren’t any napkins out, I wiped my hands on the seat.
On the way home, I opened the car door and threw up.
The next morning, LivingSocial had a coupon for seven dollars off.
I sighed, deleted the apps, and unsubscribed.
Blinders
It’s supposed to be a holiday.
An important one.
But I don’t feel it.
I’ve lost that connection.
I’ve lost that meaning.
Or maybe, I’ve found deeper meaning.
I’ve broken through the rituals and rites.
All that hokey storytelling bullshit.
The fables and ghost stories.
That tribal, backward nonsense.
Miracles and magic.
If they were real then, where are they now?
The pillars of fire and booming voices.
It doesn’t really matter now.
We still pull the wool over our own eyes.
I won’t do it. I can see clearly now.
And society’s willfully ignorant blinders don’t fit me anymore.