Cut the wire on the gates and push them open.
Look around.
Over there, you see the piles of shoes.
Over there, you see the piles of suitcases.
Over there, you see the piles of eyeglasses.
Over there, and there.
So many piles.
Clothes. Hats. Belts.
And bodies. Piles and piles of bodies.
Men. Women.
Children.
There is a fine grey ash over everything.
Run your finger through it.
It’s the ones they burned in the ovens.
Up the smokestacks they went.
Into the air.
And they drifted, and settled down.
On the piles. On the ground. And on everything.
So many angry people
So many hateful, angry people.
And people angry at those people.
It’s best not to say anything, really.
No good will come from it.
There is no common ground anymore.
It’s just a No Man’s Land, and nothing lives there.
Throwing insults. Throwing rocks.
So much hate.
The only thing you can do.
Is to sell slings to both sides.
They can scrounge up the rocks themselves.
Find some cover, and wait for the noise to die down.
Gather up the slings from the fallen.
Fix them up, and sell them all over again.
And again. And again. And again.
Burgers Again
Hamburger patties sizzling on the stove.
Can you smell that?
Slicing up the pickles as the buns heat up in the toaster.
I like to warm my hands over them.
Just a dab of mustard, not too much.
Flip the burgers, and then put on the cheese so it melts a little.
On to the buns they go.
But it needs… something more.
Mushrooms? I open a can of mushrooms, toss them into the pan, and sprinkle on red wine and butter.
Stir them up, let them simmer, until they dry out and pop.
Now that’s what I call dinner.
I think I’ll add mushrooms
I bought some hamburger meat and buns at the store to make hamburgers for dinner.
We’ve already got cheese, mustard, and pickles at home.
I toasted the buns in the toaster while the burgers cooked in a skillet.
When the buns were ready, I put cheese and mustard on them, and then sliced up pickles to lay on top.
When the burgers were ready, I thought “I think I’ll add some mushrooms.”
I opened a can, dumped it in the pan, and splashed on red wine vinegar and butter.
Everything in life needs that “I think I’ll add mushrooms moment.”
Weekly Challenge #691 – DEVOTION
- Richard
- Lizzie
- Norval Joe
- Serendipidy
- Tom
- Planet Z
RICHARD
Devotion
The trouble with religion – no matter which brand – is the level of devotion demanded from those who choose to follow them.
You’re either spending time being charitable, or performing ritual obligations to honour your selected deity.
Those vague promises about the afterlife, eternity and absolution are all very well, but in the absence of proof, it’s a lot of embarrassing mucking about when you could be doing something more interesting.
So, I’m starting my own religion, and the only devotional act I require is that you fill the collection plate… After that, you can believe whatever you want!
LIZZIE
He was devoted to his hobby and he had the best tools. He looked up. Days under the blazing sun hadn’t discouraged him. The pole had to be perfect for the challenge. It took him a while to accomplish his goal but he chopped it off. A blaze of sparkles scattered in all directions as the pole hit the sand.
“One more. Victory!”
What followed was a lot more impressive than a few sparkles. He didn’t even see it coming.
The military knew nothing while the media spent weeks debating if there had been any victims of that misguided bomb.
NORVAL JOE
Billbert obviously didn’t know when to shut up. Though he could barely breathe through his constricted throat, he wheezed, “Marrissa clearly doesn’t have the devotion for you that you think you have for her, or she wouldn’t have asked to meet me at the dance.”
Tony blinked his eyes as if considering a possible response and then slugged Billbert in the stomach and pushed him backward onto the grass.
Billbert clutched his stomach and lay in the middle of the soccer field. He watched Tony turn and run to the busses in time to climb on before they drove away.
SERENDIPIDY
“That’s so touching”, people say, and I suppose there is something special about a little dog that sits with utter devotion at their owner’s graveside.
People stop and give me treats, blankets and food. The local newspaper even ran an article about me… ‘Faithful companion, even after death’.
I’m happy to let them think what they want, but at night, I sneak back to the warmth of my own kennel!
My vigil has nothing to do with devotion, love or loyalty.
I’m just waiting for the body to rot so I can make a decent meal of the old bugger!
TOM
Seek Now Reason Within These Walls –
In Matters of religious consistency do not expect satisfaction when questioning practice to purpose. As a child I was on mission to get my grandfather out of purgatory. To this end I took my entire piggy bank of change and dumped it in to the metal offering bank below the bank of tiny votive candles. Lit all of them. Next day I get call into the principal’s office. I get I through dressing down for nearly burning the church down. I said if you didn’t want them all lit why did pull so much out there. No reply to that.
PLANET Z
The security cameras show the girl’s valet unit pushing her out of traffic before the truck destroyed it.
Is it possible for a robot to be devoted? Or is it just programming?
We reassembled the damaged valet’s memory core and installed it in another unit.
It booted up and greeted us, and asked to see the girl.
The girl ran up to the valet, hugged it, and thanked us for fixing her friend.
She seemed to be completely devoted to the valet.
So, we shut her down and began analyzing her memory core.
Devoted companion robots will make a fortune.
The Scout
Ted’s parents didn’t believe in the Boy Scouts.
So, when Ted was older and on his own, he got into scouting.
He learned how to identify all kinds of plants.
And he learned how to tie knots and start fires.
The Scouts didn’t recognize him, but Ted knew he’d done well.
He bought a bunch of sashes on eBay, tore out the stitching, and collected his badges that way.
Proudly wearing his full sash, he stood on his chair, tossed a rope over the crossbeam, and tied it off on the banister.
The knots all held his full body weight.
Rainbows
The day that the Supreme Court declared that gay marriage was now legal in all 50 states, many people proudly displayed rainbow flags, changed their social networking icons to rainbow colors, and professed that love won.
The Empire State Building, White House, and London Wheel were bathed in rainbow colors.
So was The Pentagon, but not by choice.
Thor and his Norse God friends picked that precise moment for invasion. They lowered the Rainbow Bridge from Valhalla to Midgard, and shouted VICTORY OR DEATH! battlecries as they rode their steeds down.
And promptly got shredded by machine-gun fire.
Stupid Vikings.
Coward of
Tommy may have been the coward of the county, but Billy was the coward of the state.
Every time they met, it took a team of lawyers to figure out the jurisdiction issues.
A judge worked out a reasonable solution: Tommy was the coward of the county, but Billy could handle anything that crossed the county line.
This worked out well, until George was deemed the coward of the city. And the governor appointed Howard the coward of the state.
Pretty soon, cowards were constantly stumbling over other cowards.
The President wanted to intervene, but he was just too cowardly.
Upgrades
Since the last time I was on an airplane, I lost forty-five pounds.
I don’t need the seat upgrade anymore.
But I sure do miss the free drinks.
Oh, and the legroom. That’s always a plus.
Where else can you spend thirty bucks to get three more inches for a few hours?
I know for a fact that these blue pills give you less, and they don’t last as long.
Oh, and these upgraded seats have power outlets. Not just USB… the full outlet.
Uh oh. I forgot to charge my phone. I’d better plug in my charger before I…
Varsity
Johnny made varsity.
Football? Baseball? Basketball?
No. Field hockey. Varsity field hockey.
Yes, I know it’s a girl’s sport, but Johnny’s kinda girly and small.
Still, he’s a feisty little shrimp, and he looks kinda cute in the knee socks and skirt, I suppose.
The other parents raised a huge stink over it with the school board, but it’s not like he’s in the girl’s locker room or showering with them.
No, he’s in the boy’s locker room. Peeking through a hole in the wall and watching his team mates in their locker room while they shower.
That’s my boy!