Candy Cane

Some people like peppermint candy canes.
I do too. So I bought a dozen.
Then I bought a dozen Oreo-flavored candy canes.
And then some Swedish Fish ones.
I figured I should sneak in some Red Hots canes.
They look like peppermint, but they’re hot.
And the bacon ones look like them, too.
After that, I kinda lost my mind.
Wasabi, Chicken, Pickle.
Although Pickle is actually kinda good.
Clam isn’t.
I put these all in a basket and left it out in the breakroom.
Unlabeled.
So, take your pick. Try your luck.
Everyone’s a winner.
Unless you get clam.

For better or worse bagels

I like bagels.
I especially like to toast bagels, then smear on some cream cheese, and snip some fresh chives and herbs from the garden for them.
The problem is, the better and more artisan the bagel, the more lopsided it is.
And it’s a bitch to slice cleanly to fit into the toaster.
So, you need a bagel guillotine. And a bagel toaster.
And a special bagel schmearer.
Screw all that. It’s six in the morning. I’m not fucking around, I just want something to eat.
The supposedly better and more authentic the bagel is, the worse it is.

WEEKLY CHALLENGE #711 – SASSY

Zzzzzzzz

RICHARD

S.A.S.S.Y.

Strategic Armament Systems: South Yorkshire – SASSY for short – an unassuming factory unit, situated on an industrial estate on the outskirts of Leeds.

Whilst the world’s attention focussed on the posturing of North Korea, the political machinations of Putin and the Chinese, and unknown Middle Eastern threats, the scientists and engineers of West Yorkshire quietly beavered away on the ultimate weapon.

Earth’s last day dawned on a drizzly, November Thursday and ended – accidentally – when Security Guard, George Orpington, in a moment of absent-mindedness, set down his mug of tea on the Big Red Button of Total Destruction.

LIZZIE

The waves drowned the sound of a phone ringing. It rang for a minute. Then, it stopped. Later in the day, it rang again. The waves sloshed softly in the background.
The police sent search parties, geared up in white protective suits. They quarantined the small town, but the buildings were empty.
Then, the phone rang one last time. A policeman answered.
“Find them, I dare you. And find me too,” the voice cackled with laughter.
They did find them.
Years later, the waves returned to the shore what belonged on the shore.
They never found the cackling voice though.

TOM

So Long Ago and Far Away –

Sassy LaRue wasn’t. She was graceful and poised. Had that old moneyed air about her. Married deep in the Mississippi gentry. Junior Leaguer, A-lister, tight with the inner circle in the outer beltway. Should have gone to prison with the rest of the president’s men, but she was always a step ahead and to one side. I know her is passing. Spent an evening drinking shot of gold watching the Potomac roll by. As I remember she had a passion for skeet shooting. Her grandpa taught her. Oh, how she get the moniker. Her little brother couldn’t pronounce her name.

SERENDIPIDY

Sassy Strychnine: My best friend forever. She’s never let me down, never been found wanting in a time of need, and is always dependable.

Not like that bitch, Suzie Switchblade! Now there’s a girl you don’t want to trust… Given half a chance, she’ll turn on you and stab you in the back. You’re never entirely safe while she’s around.

As for Bessie Bullet… Forget it, she’s noisy, crass, and leaves a mess wherever she’s been!

But Sassy: She’s cool. She slips in quietly, almost unnoticed, gets the job done, then quietly fades into the background.

My kind of girl.

NORVAL JOE

Linoliumanda’s father had just asked if they had walked home from the dance. Billbert shuffled his feet. “Yes, sir. We just walked up from next door, right now.”
“Don’t get sassy with me, boy. I just got a call from the school telling me about the fire alarm. You two got home pretty fast for something that had just happened.”
Billbert swollowed. “Um. We called an Uber?”
Linoliumanda took hold of her father’s arm and shook him. “Come on, Dad. Relax. We used magic and flew back from the dance.”
“Now you’re getting sassy with me, Linnie?” her father growled.

PLANET Z

I remember my first cat Sassy.
She liked to walk through the bookshelves, knocking books to the floor.
If you left anything on a table or a counter, it ended up on the floor, along with the books.
We tried to train her not to do this, putting pennies in containers with the hopes of scaring her, but she knocked them down, too.
One night, we’d left a lit candle on a table, and Sassy knocked it off, starting a fire.
She’d burned the house down and everything in it.
Insurance covered the loss, and we eventually got a dog.

Christmas mattress ads

You can tell what time of year it is by the stupid dad jokes that mattress store commercials use.
The worst are during Christmas, because they all mention sleeping in Heavenly peace.
Only when Christmas is over do you get a week off from the inanity.
That’s when the end-of-the-year clearance sales take place.
They need to clear the inventory to avoid the tax liability or something.
Never mind that the stores never actually stock the mattresses.
They get them from a distributor and they take weeks to deliver.
While they sleep in Heavenly peace… with all of your money.

Christmas lists for the kids

I gave each of the kids a stack of post-it notes and a pen.
“Write up your Christmas wishlists,” I said, and I left the room.
When they were done, I had them go outside and put the notes on the garage door.
“Put them in order,” I said. “From the one you want most to the one you want least.”
When they were done, I looked at the lists and nodded.
And the garage door started to open, scattering the kids and post-it notes as my wife pulled into the driveway.
I guess it’s sweaters and socks for everyone.

Christmas elf climate

The truth is, elves are forest creatures, so keeping a bunch of them up at the North Pole is kind of a dick move on Santa’s part.
But with deforestation and the loss of habitat, elves really don’t have much else place to go these days.
And Santa does teach them a trade in toymaking and logistics, even if the pay is for shit and the benefits are nonexistent.
It’s not like Santa needs guards or fences to keep them in.
One step outside of the factory dormitory, and they freeze their asses off.
No wonder why they’re so jolly.

Naughty and nicer lists

Santa’s Nice List was growing.
His statisticians showed him the chart.
“What about the Naughty List?” he asked.
They ran the numbers… and it was growing much faster than the Nice List.
When Santa did the analytics, he found that when normalized for population growth, it was actually shrinking.
And people were moving from the Nice to Naughty at an increasing rate.
Santa needed to do something quickly.
“Poison the lumps of coal,” he ordered.
Santa went back to his office and looked at his Nice List.
His own name was gone.
“On second thought,” he said. “Cancel that order.”

Santa handles the mail

Santa’s elves read the mail, entered it into the system, and flagged anything unusual for the big guy’s attention.
Dying kids got their wishes sent to the Make A Wish Foundation.
Death threats went to the FBI, and the sender went on the Naughty List.
Appeals to get off of the Naughty List went to Legal.
Santa tried to develop an AI system to process all of the incoming correspondence.
But it never quite had the accuracy of his squadron of mailroom elves.
“It’s the personal touch, I think,” said Santa, and he went out for a round of golf.

Twenty-three and Santa

Santa doesn’t remember his parents at all.
Some say he was left abandoned on an ice floe and set adrift, ending up at the North Pole.
Others say he used to be an ancient Turkish saint.
Or some Norwegian hunter who was hit on the head too many times.
Santa ordered a DNA testing kit to find out.
Two weeks later, the results came back.
The elf in charge of his workshop read the report.
“It says you’re fat and happy,” said the elf. “Can we go back to work now?”
Santa always suspected that he was a Samoan.

WEEKLY CHALLENGE #710 – PICK TWO panel, acid, blaine, current, coma, stink, taste

Flop

RICHARD

Medic!

I was beginning to have grave doubts about the doctor assigned to grandfather’s care.

My suspicions were aroused when he plugged the stethoscope into grandad’s ears and shouted ‘Wake up’ into the other end; then he seemed to have no idea which way round to insert the thermometer.

It was when he said. “To wake a coma patient, we need to administer a strong electric current”, then grabbed the paddles and placed them against my grandfather’s head, that I panicked and wrestled him to the ground.

Whose idea was it to put the coma ward next to the psychiatric unit anyway?

TOM

Can You See the Real Me Doctor

My doctor worries way too much about my state of health. What’s a little blood in the urine? High triple digits on the most lab tests. HA. What I find of concern it the acid taste in my mouth after intermittent commas. Somewhere between citrus and c cell batteries. What’s that all about ………..

Sorry I blinked out again for a second. What day is this? Oh ya Thanksgiving. Yes I’m thankful for my outgoing health. Wait, that’s on going. At least it wasn’t a stroke or cardo heart infraction. Now that would be some major messed up action.

LIZZIE

The stage was set. The jury was ready, the music chosen.
He still felt the taste of her mouth.
He cast a furtive glance at her. She ignored him.
They danced. And they won.
He still felt her body pressed against his.
The applause died down as they waved to the audience.
And she hurried away.
He could still feel the shape of her hand in his.
The recollection of her smile was vague though, so vague.
She was now a body fallen into a deep slumber.
The stage was set. The jury was ready.
But there was no music.

SERENDIPIDY

My latest date turned out to be a complete jerk.

Too tight to pay for a restaurant meal, he insisted I should cook for him… and also, to see how I compared to his mother’s kitchen skills!

He also bragged constantly about his manliness, and how he wanted to taste the hottest chilli I could make.

So, I threw in a dozen Scotch Bonnets, and a handful of Ghost Chillies, then watched him suffer.

After just a few mouthfuls, he was more than ready for a helping of battery acid sorbet.

I always keep a tub handy, just in case.

TURA

Taste; current
———
“Show me the taste of enlightenment,” said the master.

A student stood, bowed, and began, “Thus have I heard—” The master immediately thwacked him with a stick. The student sat back down.

Another stood, bowed, and said, “Enlightenment is the current that flows through all being.”

The master gestured as if to fill his hand from this current. The student took the hint and sat down.

“Show me the taste of enlightenment!” the master repeated.

I stood, and drew from my robes a bottle of 40-year-old Laphroaig. I bowed and humbly presented it to the master.

The master was pleased.

NORVAL JOE

After a quick flight around the neighborhood, Billbert and Linoliumanda touched down behind a panel van two doors down from her house. He walked her to her door.

Linoliumanda’s father opened the door. He normal acid glare burned through Billbert. “What are you doing back so soon?”

Linoliumanda took Billbert’s hand and pulled him in. “There was a fire,” she said, sniffing the air. “Mmmm. What’s cooking?”

“Brussels sprout casserole,” her mother called from the kitchen.

Billbert wondered if the taste could be as bad as the stink.

Her father asked, “You’re telling me, you walked home from the dance?”

PLANET Z

Every year, the coaches or journalists panels rank the Texas A&M football team in the top 25 teams.
And every year, the Aggies beat small wimpy schools, but get beaten by the other ranked teams.
And they drop in the polls until they fall out of the top 25 teams.
The next year, they start off in the top 25 teams again.
And fall quickly again, year after year.
Pathetic.
Eventually, the pollsters figured out a solution to correct the error.
Anyone who ranked Texas A&M had their ballot shredded.
Much more humane than shredding the coaches and journalists themselves.