I’ve had a lot of things on my mind in the past few months.
I’ve tried to draw inspiration from them, but instead, I find myself dwelling, trapped by my thoughts.
Instead of writing my way through the fear and pain, and finding strange new territory to explore, I find myself digging myself deeper into them.
Trapped. Scared. Alone.
The few bright spots are hard to see through the darkness and gloom.
But I know that they are there.
I pet my cats. I watch Netflix and on-demand.
Maybe the light will come back soon.
And I’ll follow it out.
Schroedinger’s Job
I’m scared.
I’m really scared.
I said something I shouldn’t have.
And I totally regret saying it.
Yeah, I was mad.
Yeah, I was frustrated.
But that’s no excuse.
Now, I don’t know if I have a job.
I have to wait for the managers to investigate and discuss the situation.
Until then, I’m suspended.
With pay, but that doesn’t really help in the long run.
I’ve left jobs without knowing where the next job was.
And it’s absolute hell.
The waiting and not-knowing is awful.
I’m tempted to call in and quit.
Just so that I know for certain.
Picnic
I packed the picnic basket, loaded up the horses, and we rode out into the forest.
We rode for half an hour, until I found the perfect spot.
We dismounted, and spread out the blanket.
Then, we unloaded the basket for our afternoon meal.
As I held the bottle of wine, I realized that I had forgotten the corkscrew.
“Should I go back?” I asked my companion.
“No,” she said. She took out a Swiss Army Knife, and flicked out a corkscrew.
So handy.
Unfortunately, the Swiss Army Knife didn’t include a condom.
And nine months later, you were born.
Ice shards
It’s not hard to make ice cubes.
Pour water into a tray.
Then put the tray in the freezer.
Let the water in the tray freeze.
Then dump the ice into a bucket.
Repeat this as needed.
Sometimes, I forget to let the water freeze.
And half-frozen shards fall into the bucket with a trickle of water.
Even if I pour out the water, the ice shards freeze together.
The bucket becomes a solid block of ice.
And I have to bash it against the counter to dump it out.
Then, I get out the trays, and fill them up.
Con Man
Call it what you will:
Three-Card Monte
The Shell Game
Cups And Balls
It’s a magic trick, slight-of-hand, and a con game.
Make people think they have the advantage when they don’t.
Open a fake telegraph office, and take people’s money to tap a telegraph key that wasn’t connected to anything.
Open a fake Army induction office, and while the doctor checked out the men, the nurse stole their wallets.
So, you challenge him to a duel, and he lets you choose a pistol from his set.
And he hands you a bullet.
That turns out to be a blank.
Weekly Challenge #686 – LOSING
- Lizzie
- Richard
- Tom
- Norval Joe
- Serendipidy
- Planet Z
NORVAL JOE
The class bell rang and Billbert’s biology teacher hadn’t yet come into the classroom.
As he was admiring the chestnut brown hair of the girl ahead of him in the row, she turned around and smiled. Her equally dark brown eyes seemed to amplify the brilliant whiteness of her teeth. “Hi. I’m Marrissa. I was just telling my friend, Willhemina, that I think you’re really cute.”
Was he asleep and dreaming or just losing his mind?
Marrissa seemed to drop away.
As Billbert’s thighs pressed to the underside of the desk, he realized he was floating out of his seat.
SERENDIPIDY
Those who think they know me and my ways think it’s a little strange that, amongst my extensive armoury and instruments of torture, I also keep a well-stocked medical kit.
Even more surprising is the selection of painkilling drugs and life sustaining aids that I’m happy to freely administer – when necessary – to the unfortunate victims of my painful ministrations.
But there is a logical explanation for this seeming anachronism.
Because I don’t want my victims losing their will to live…
So, I pep them back up, give them false hope, and start all over again from scratch.
RICHARD
Bittersweet Me
It always struck me as just a little ironic that Michael Stipe was singing all about ‘Shiny Happy People’ one moment, and the next he was ‘Losing My Religion’.
I’ve known churches like that – full of happy clappy, hug you without warning, share the blessing, full gospel types of people.
All very lovely inside the church, but meet them outside and it’s a different picture altogether.
Then they’ll happily judge you for your ungodly ways, condemn you for your sinful life and won’t tolerate a different point of view or alternative lifestyle.
Hypocrites.
Everybody hurts, you know?
Even me.
LIZZIE
Strings left, strings right. They pulled the strings left and they pulled the strings right. The doll swayed on the small stage, left and right. Her face was emotionless. The brush she held swayed with her. Her face was emotionless… And the more they pulled on the strings, the more she swayed. And the more that brush swayed, the more she painted an invisible feeling in the air. It swayed angrily. The doll’s fingers cramped around it tightly. Her body shook and jumped in all directions. And that brush painted a face of sheer anger. Metal dolls have feelings too.
PLANET Z
They say there’s a right way to lose weight and a wrong way to lose weight.
The right way is a sensible, sustainable diet and a reasonable exercise routine.
The wrong way is a starvation diet and a painful exercise regimen.
You’ll just give up and the pounds will come back on.
Same with dangerous surgeries and remedies.
The extremely wrong way is to launch yourself into orbit.
Sure, you’ve lost weight. But it’ll all come back when you return to Earth.
Unless you burn up during re-entry.
That’s also an extremely wrong way to burn calories, so to speak.
BDSM
Down in the dungeon.
That’s where Caroline goes every Friday.
Her hands, bound to the tile walls.
Her ankles, shackled to the floor.
A ballgag in her mouth.
Hot candle wax on her skin.
And a rubber plug in her ass.
No tears. No whimpers.
Sometimes, they whip her.
Other times, they spray her with the fire hose.
Then there’s the times they make microwave popcorn where she can hear it and smell it and can’t do anything about it.
And then they whip her some more.
When it’s all over, they give her the bill.
That’s when she screams.
Down in the dungeon.
That’s where Caroline goes every Friday to play.
Binding the customer’s hands to the tile on the walls.
Shackling her ankles to the floor.
Popping a ballgag into her mouth.
Dripping a candle on to her skin.
Stuffing a rubber plug in her ass.
She listens… no crying, no whimpering.
So, she whips the girl.
Sprays her with the fire hose.
Nothing.
She takes a break, and makes microwave popcorn. Lets the girl smell it, and gives her nothing.
Finally, she tallies up the evening’s bill, and shows it to the girl.
That’s when she screams.
Special Order
Back in the day, if you tried to order something special at McDonalds, the whole place grinds to a halt.
No onions? No pickles?
No way.
But that wasn’t my special order.
I’d try to order a shake with chocolate on the bottom, vanilla in the middle, and strawberry on top.
The flavor depended on how deep you poked the straw.
The pimply-faced teenagers running the place would look at me like I was crazy when I insisted on a triple-flavor shake, but I knew that when the dinner rush was over, everyone mixed them up and tried it themselves.
Lama’s Revenge
The Dalai Lama went to the United Nations, and he made a plea for his homeland.
He was treated well, but China never let up its stranglehold, and nobody did anything to stop them.
So, he sent Buddhist monks to make sand mandalas in cities around the world.
A few aficionados enjoyed the process, but most people saw them on the evening news or the web, and then forgot about it.
The monks swept away their mandalas, and spread the hidden neurotoxins into the air.
“Choke on it, world,” mumbled the Dalai Lama, putting on a gas mask and laughing.
Riot girl
At the protest, Cindy threw a rock at a cop.
It bounced off of his riot shield and came back at Cindy.
It struck her in the forehead, knocking her out cold.
Cindy woke up in an ambulance, handcuffed to the stretcher.
“It’s going to be a while,” said the paramedic standing over her. “Your friends have all of the roads blocked.”
That’s when the ambulance started to rock back and forth.
“Shit!” said the driver. “Get out!”
He bolted from his door, while the paramedic escaped from the back.
Cindy screamed as the stretcher tipped over, breaking her neck.