Amber Alert

The electronic signs on the highway display travel times to various interchanges.
Other times, they display accident information.
That way, you know why everything’s jammed up and not moving.
And then there’s the Amber Alert messages.
Those appear when someone abducts a kid and drives off.
They’re named after a girl named Amber who was kidnapped and murdered.
Thank God it was a girl named Amber and not a boy named Gaylord or Dick.
Imagine, getting Dick Alerts all the time.
Nobody would take it seriously.
Not that anyone does now, as we all disable them on our phones, right?

Weekly Challenge #726 – GULF

Asleep

RICHARD

Breakfast betrayal

“I sense a gulf growing between us”, she said.

Lowering my newspaper, I looked at her quizzically, “I’m not sure what you mean…”

She sighed, placing the coffee pot on the table. “You’re not like you used to be; you’ve grown distant; you don’t want to talk to me anymore and when you look at me… It’s as if I mean nothing to you.”

I shrugged – “I don’t know what to say, but how about you rustle me up an omelette?”

It was time to change my breakfast diner – these waitresses were getting just a little too friendly.

LIZZIE

The tour of the Gulf was such a nice idea. The fresh air, the birds flying close-by. The tour of the Gulf was also cheap. No one wanted fresh air and rain, birds flying close-by and pooping.
So, they embarked.
“Wonderful adventure”, “Unique opportunity”, “An experience you’ll never forget”.
Yes, it sure was unforgettable, especially when the boat tilted dramatically to one side and people screamed at the top of their lungs, scaring the poor birds away. Fresh air was something difficult to find too. Everyone was sick and bird poop was not exactly the worst thing happening that day.

SERENDIPIDY

I am the bridge.

I bridge the gulf between assurance and horror, between hope and desperation, between prosperity and poverty.

Take my hand and I will lead you across the abyss; let me show you a new life: A new world order, a world where nothing will ever be the same again.

Walk my pathway and let me educate you in my ways, allow me to release the inhumanity in your soul – permit me to break you and bend you to my will.

Submit to me and cower at my name.

My name is fear, my name is…

Covid19

TOM

This is a gulf ball. Don’t you mean a golf ball? Nope a gulf ball. Looks like a golf ball, round, white, dimples. Look carefully, Closer, Clarisse. It says Tampa CC. Yup. So. Look at this one. It says Miami CC. Now you see. NO. This is an Atlantic Ball and this is a Gulf Ball. What? It’s the water. W-a-t-e-r? Did you flunk geography in High School? You’ve never been to Florida? Didn’t think so. Let me break this down, ocean big body of water, gulf small body of water. Oh I get it. That’s a gulf golf ball.

TURA

Gulf
———
In my plane, I enjoyed imagining that the cloud layer below is actually land, vast continents with unfathomable gulfs between them. What civilisations flourish on those thousand-mile cliffs, and fight and decay and flourish again?

Then a bird strike took out an engine and half a wing. I was fighting for hours to bring it down. Those landscapes opened up like a fractal, detail within detail within detail. Finally I hit ground, and staggered from the wreck.

That was a long time ago. I can hardly believe now that I came from a tiny rocky ball orbiting a fusion reactor.

NORVAL JOE

Marissa’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean by a memory wipe? Does it hurt?”

Billbert’s dad shrugged. “Yeah. It hurts a lot while it’s happening, but then, you don’t remember afterward. Thus, the term, memory wipe. It was a technique we developed during the gulf war and Desert Storm for people who learned what our government was really doing.”

Mr. Albraggetti sniffed. “He’s lying Marissa. They can’t do something like that.”

Billbert’s dad nodded. “Yup. It is a pretty far fetched idea. Kind of like being able to fly.”

Marissa gulped. “I think we should just go home, dad.”

PLANET Z

On some maps, it’s called The Persian Gulf.
On other maps, it’s called The Arabian Gulf.
It depends where you’re from.
Arab governments that hate Iran call it the Arabian Gulf.
While most of the rest of the world call it the Persian Gulf.
Even though most of the rest of the world also hate Iran.
It’s also called The Gulf of Basra by a few.
And also, just The Gulf.
Which Gulf?
You know… The Gulf.
And then they whisper “The Persian Gulf.”
Or point to it on a map, put their finger on their nose, and they wink.

Carrie

Jeff couldn’t believe it… he was sitting next to Carrie Fisher.
The Carrie Fisher. From Star Wars. And… well, Star Wars. And other stuff.
He introduced himself, shook her hand… did all the things you’re supposed to do with celebrities.
Show respect, give them space.
She looked tired, maybe a little wasted on something, so Jeff didn’t bother her. He let her sleep.
Maybe they’d chat a bit later?
Jeff wanted to take a nap, but Carrie snored a bit, so he put on his headphones and listened to an audiobook.
He barely noticed when she stopped snoring… and breathing.

Squealing in Oz

I realized something this morning.
The Three Little Pigs and The Big Bad Wolf lived in The Land of Oz.
After all, the Pigs and Wolf could talk.
And they were Pigs with a Capital P, and a Wolf with a capital W.
Animals with a Capital A, who lived in The Land of Oz.
Do you remember what The First Little Pig made his house out of?
That’s right. Straw.
Straw that he pulled from the guts of The Scarecrow.
The screaming, whimpering Scarecrow.
If only The Tin Man and Cowardly Lion had responded sooner, he’d still be alive.

Disney Store Scratchoff

A coworker was expecting his second child.
This time, a boy.
There’d been complications with the pregnancy. He’d been taking time off to help his wife.
They’ve been going in for regular checkups. Things were looking good.
They set a date to induce labor… tomorrow.
But then, the doctor couldn’t find a heartbeat.
They’re still going to induce labor tomorrow.
Because, well, you have to.
I pull out my to-do list and scratch out DISNEY STORE.
Fold the notepad back into my pocket, stare at the screens for a while.
These are the times I wish I prayed, but don’t.

Mark Twain and the Devil

Mark Twain said many times that he’d want to go to Heaven for the climate and Hell for the company.
The Devil offered him a house with air conditioning, so Twain chose Hell.
“Aha!” shouted The Devil. “The air conditioning is broken!”
“I’ll wait for the repairs,” said Twain. And he smoked his cigars on the veranda, with The Devil.
The Devil taunted Twain with endless stories about shipping delays and incompetent repairmen.
Year after year, century after century.
Eventually, The Devil gave in, and fixed the air conditioning.
“Thank you,” said Twain. “Most of all, you’ve been excellent company.”

St. Patrick

St. Patrick didn’t just drive all of the snakes out of Ireland.
He also drove out all of the moose.
And he had a hand in expelling all of the rhinoceroses.
Rumor has it that he drove out every ostrich, but he may have had help.
Then there’s the alligators. St. Patrick sent them packing.
As for the kangaroos, they didn’t have a chance.
Neither did the gorillas. Every single one of them. Gone and forgotten.
For this, the Irish celebrate.
Well, except for the head zookeeper at the Dublin Zoo.
It’s best not to mention St. Patrick around him.

Controlled

At first, we controlled computers through punchcards.
Then, we used keyboards. And mice.
Trackpads with finger gestures were helpful.
Voice control took a while to perfect.
After that, cameras could sense our facial expressions and hand gestures.
Direct brainwave scanning was the holy grail.
When that came, you controlled the computer with your thoughts.
Which, if you’re impulsive, is a bad thing.
As long as the software contains a confirmation dialogue, you’ll be fine.
But thinking or saying “Yes” sarcastically can lead to a lot of problems.
Now, can I talk to a manager about getting my bank account fixed?

Weekly Challenge #725 – GATE

Work from home?

RICHARD

The Park

The old man smiled at us, and threw his arms open in an expansive gesture, beckoning us forward with his distinctive cane, topped with the amber handle.

This was the moment we’d all been waiting for… All the secrecy, all the hype and all the intrigue had led to this moment.

He paused, then smiled again: “Welcome to Silurian Park!”

The great gate swung open and the vehicles rolled through.

The press reception afterwards was subdued.

“So, no dinosaurs then?”

“Well, no. They came much later… But you have to admit the ferns and lichen are all pretty impressive, huh?”

LIZZIE

At the gate, the entangled cables covered the walls and sneaked through. No one knew what they were for, and no one asked. As the days went by, more cables appeared, increasing the entanglement of the hopelessly entangled mess.
And then came the kid. He unplugged all the cables, straightened them up, and plugged them all back in. It took him a while too. But he was pleased with himself. He smiled and walked away.
No one in town had the heart to complain about the hours with no power. But they did make sure to avoid any future entanglements.

SERENDIPIDY

It’s not very impressive, is it?

Satan shrugged. “You can blame the budget cuts for that”, she snorted.

The new gate into hell, was just a little disappointing – it was the cheapest the local DIY store had in stock, and someone had bent the hinges during the fitting, so now it wouldn’t close properly.

“Maybe some positive PR?” I suggested. “Call it ‘The Portal to the Abyss’, or something? Anyway, once the everlasting torture starts, who’s going to care?”

Satan, slowly shook her head. “Yeah, about the torture thing… We’re downgrading to ‘a good telling-off’. Budget cuts, I’m afraid!”

TOM

The GATE

To get to the gate, you had to cross the bridge of sighs, descend the 1000 iron steps of forgiveness, swim the river of sorrow, tunnel through the mountain of memories, fill out form aw/42— 1066e, clear your mind of all thoughts, change out of yesterday’s underwear, run without scissors, slowly back-out of the room, meet you half way, stand on a corner Winslow, Arizona, It’s a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed Ford slowin’ down to take a look at me Come on, baby, don’t say maybe. I gotta know if your sweet love is gonna save me.
Attachments area

TURA

Gate
———
The great doors open only at festivals. On ordinary days the congregation enter by the door within the door, the wicket gate. Others enter by the wicked gate, and pass among the congregation unseen, except by the priest. In vain he tries to exorcise and seal the wicked gate, and in vain he preaches to the congregation to awake and witness the demons. Even the Eucharist is without power to dispel them, and he despairs.

For this world is but the refuse of the Resurrection, an unwinding clockwork imagining itself to live on, the drying cocoon of a departed butterfly.

NORVAL JOE

Marissa slapped her father’s arm. “Daddy. It doesn’t matter how he flies, I just want to fly with him.”
Just then, Billbert’s father came through the gate to the side yard, smiling. “Did someone say something about flies? Do you know what has six wheels, and flies?”
Mr. Albraggetti rolled his eyes. “Garbage trucks have eight wheels around here. And, your son is going to take my daughter flying.”
“What do I do, dad?”
His father shrugged. “Go ahead son. We’ll have the agency come around later and do a memory wipe. But, then we’ll have to move away, again.”

DAVID

My wife, my children are gone. Ash and smoke are all that remain. This land belongs to the shades. A fiery anger rages within me and if I don’t turn away from my fury. I too will be consumed and lost. Will my heart of flesh turn to stone? I surveyed what was our home. The gate to my hell house still stands. My anger finds its target and it shall not prevail. I push it over with ease. It does not give me the pleasure I seek. My sorrow overtakes me and I violently sob uncontrollably as angels descend.

PLANET Z

Yeah, they took our temperatures as we boarded.
But all through the flight, a guy’s hacking and coughing in Economy.
He’d been told to self-quarantine, but he didn’t listen.
Typical.
The pilot had announced that we would be changing gates on arrival.
We’d be met by airport security and put under quarantine for the virus.
“Why the fuck did you let that asshole on?” shouts a guy in First Class.
While everyone’s arguing with the flight attendant, I reach into the storage compartment, get out the demonstration seat belt, and loop it around his neck.
At least he’ll stop coughing.

Danbury’s trades

Danbury woke up, turned on the TV, and raised his eyebrow.
Smoke was pouring out of one of the World Trade Center buildings.
And then, as the blithering hosts blithered on, a plane struck the other building.
He picked up the phone and called his broker.
“Short all airline stocks,” he said.
The broker was barely audible over the chaos. “The exchange is down, Danbury! People are dead! You cold-blooded bastard!”
“London and Chicago are still open,” said Danbury. “Do it.”
The FBI hassled Danbury about it.
He greeted them warmly to his new luxury yacht, and offered them drinks.