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.

Productivity

Productivity was falling, the metrics said.
We held a meeting to discuss productivity.
And then had a follow-up meeting to check on our progress.
Then, we had a strategy discussion to resolve outstanding productivity meetings.
Right before we went into a workshop to boost our productivity.
Meeting after meeting, session after session.
Throw in a few offsite team-building exercises now and then.
Pretty soon, the whole day was taken up with meetings, sessions, team-building exercises.
That’s when the CEO announced a company-wide meeting.
“We’ve gone bankrupt,” he said. “Seems all we do is hold meetings instead of getting anything done.”

Bridesmaidbot

“Always a bridesmaid, and never a bride,” mumbled Bridesmaidbot 2000, waiting by the 3D Printer.
Sowly, a padded skin emerged from the slot, and the robot carefully put it on.
She walked through the scanners, and helpers massaged her body to conform to the client’s shape.
“Here,” one said, handing her an ugly pink dress and an absurdly large feathered hat. “Don’t forget the shoes.”
“I wouldn’t be caught dead in that dress,” said the client to her doppelganger, and through her headset, saw through the robot’s eyes. “Perfect.”
Bridesmaidbot 2000 sighed, and stepped into her packing crate for shipping.

Signing bonus

He was a star athlete.
Lettered in every sport, and every school offered him a scholarship.
Every team wanted to draft him right out of high school.
So, he got himself an agent, and he said he was going pro.
Signing bonus, endorsements, everything.
The big day came, the press coverage was total madness.
Everyone smiling for the cameras, thousands of people cheering.
He picked up the pen, signed the contract, and promptly fell over dead.
In the chaos, his agent quietly picked up the pen with a handkerchief, put down another pen, and walked away into a comfortable retirement.

Sells itself

It’s a well-known axiom in business that nothing sells itself, wrote Marcus Samuel, founder of the Shell Oil Company.
The robot put down the book and smiled. “In my case, His Lordship couldn’t have been more wrong.”
The prospective customers laughed and applauded.
Then, the robot then went through all of his features, demonstrating each to the audience with careful precision.
When finished, all that was left to do was go over the leasing options.
“Technically, I programmed that sales pitch into the robot,” said the demonstration engineer. “But that’s not as dramatic as saying that it is selling itself.”

Cat allergies

My cat has allergies.
She gets half of an allergy pill every day.
Just pop it into her mouth and then squirt in some water.
She also is supposed to only eat special hypoallergenic food made from peas and ducks.
I found the dry version, but the canned is on backorder everywhere.
I asked for a substitute food, but that won’t be in for a few days.
So, I went to the park, caught some ducks, and beat the shit out of them.
Then I mashed them up with peas and fed my cat.
I should have bought a goldfish.

Weekly Challenge #724 – TINFOIL

Laptinny

RICHARD

Tinfoil

I covered my walls in tinfoil so my enemies couldn’t find me, but fearful that I needed more, I extended it throughout the house, and covered the windows and doors in a double layer.

Still concerned, I wrapped the garden, followed by the exterior of the house – you can’t be too careful, after all.

But I was still vulnerable in the outside world. So I tinfoiled my car, made tinfoil clothing and carried a roll of tinfoil with me wherever I went.

Within a matter of days, my enemies had found me.

“What gave me away?” I asked them.

LIZZIE

I recall the fresh sandwiches wrapped in tinfoil, the extra juice in a clear bottle, Agatha Christie’s books packed in twos just in case I could read a whole book in a few hours.
The stubborn folded chairs, the clean towels, and the golden sand, sneaking through the seams.
The waves, the wind, and the seagulls fluttering about, announcing a storm.
“It’s your turn,” someone said.
I look at my pieces and I have nothing but an apple. The tray beams with words, but my only thought is… The sun still shines. They are gone… But the sun still shines.

TURA

Tinfoil
———
Did you know that tinfoil isn’t actually made of tin any more? The aliens have got wise to it, y’see. They can’t broadcast thoughts into your head through tin, so they’ve replaced all the tinfoil in the world by this alien metal called al-u-min-um. What sort of word is that, ancient Egyptian? They’ve even put a whole fake history of al-u-min-um into Wikipedia. Still called tinfoil but it’s transparent to their thought control rays.

Anyway, I’ve got a source of genuine tinfoil, rarer than gold these days. Buy one of my proper tinfoil hats, wake up and see the Matrix.

SERENDIPIDY

They laughed at Old George in the ramshackle house at the end of the street, with his crazy theories and his tinfoil hat.

They’re not laughing now.

They laughed when he told them the government were beaming microwaves into our brains, frying our minds and controlling our thoughts.

They laughed even more when he spoke of the coming new world order, and how the reptile overlords in positions of power would one day compel us to be their slave drones.

Yes, they laughed at Old George in his tinfoil hat.

But, believe me, not one of them is laughing now.

TOM

Led Me To Your Taker

NORVAL JOE

You see that guy over there with the tinfoil on his head? It look quite fashionable, in a retro sort of way. No, why is he wearing a tinfoil hat? To prevent alien thought control from turning him into zombie meat puppet slave, who will blindly do the bidding of his overlords the Zorss. Come to think of it that might not be a bad idea. I’ll ask him if he has any spear foil. So Ruby wanders over to the guy. They talk. He come back all disappointed. What I ask. He said it boast the signal from his planet.

As Billbert approached the Fararri, Marissa and an older man, who looked like he might be her father, got out to meet him.
The man held out his hand, not to shake, but to stop Billbert in his tracks. “I’m Joey Albragetti. My daughter says that you can fly. Before I let you take her for a ride, tell me, how do you do it?”
Billbert cleared his throat. “I wear a plastic bag. It gives me super powers.”
Mr. Albragetti scoffed. “Right. And I wear a tinfoil hat to communicate with space aliens. Tell me the truth, boy. Now.”

PLANET Z

I remember when we had to wrap tinfoil around the radio antenna to get a better signal.
The same worked for the television antenna when we wanted to get a better picture
So, why were people wrapping their heads in it to block signals from the spy satellites flying overhead?
Based on experience with radio and television, you’d think people would realize that amplifies signals, not blocks them.
Instead of keeping the government out of their heads, they were making it easier for the government to read their minds.
Not that they had anything in there worth reading, mind you.

Andy’s girls

When they were fifteen, she and her twin sister took a bus to New York City and joined Andy Warhol’s gang of creative misfits.
She called herself Ann O. Rexia and her sister called herself Boo Lemia.
Ann and Boo painted and appeared in films.
Some of the films could barely be called art.
“They said they were nineteen!” shouted the director as the cops dragged him off.
Ann and Boo ran away before their parents could get to New York to claim them.
Nobody’s sure where they are now these days.
And Andy’s not telling anyone, because he’s dead.

Queen Anne

What did they call Queen Anne’s Lace before Queen Anne?
Some call it wild carrot. Others call it bishop’s lace.
“I’ll take that wild carrot, if you don’t mind,” said the young Queen Anne to a bishop.
And she plucked the lacy white flower with red buds from the bishop’s hands.
“So lovely,” she said, twirling it in her hands. “I think I will name it after myself.”
The bishops protested, so Queen Anne had them all executed, their blood staining her gown.
But the legend of the red buds was changed to her pricking her finger while making lace.