George and Atlantis

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He’d heard the legends of Atlantis, the island paradise that had sank beneath the waves.
“It’s still out there, son,” said a grizzled fisherman, pulling out a map. “I’m too old to seek it myself, but I could sell you this map.”
George bought the map, raised anchor, and sailed for Atlantis.
Except that he had the map upside-down, and ended up in the middle of Fenway Park in Boston.
Thankfully, the Red Sox were away in New York.
George found a bar, and watched the game on television.

Weekly Challenge #1006 – Keep Well

The next topic is Cruising

LISA

True Love is Hard to Kill
Keepwell was nestled in the shadows of Dugyle Castle. Their visitors passed through our town so we thrived. Life was good. Until the falling sickness.
The drawbridge went up and nothing more was heard from the castle. We did the same: shut the gates and sat it out imposing no contact with the rest of the country.
Jack the butcher’s son however, continued to see his beau from a nearby village. They met secretly until she succumbed to the sickness. The rest is really too painful to recount but our numbers dwindled rapidly and the castle soon fell into ruin.

RICHARD

— Explosive Power —
“Keep well clear” said the guide, “they appear pretty lethargic but they can strike with explosive power.”
I figured he was being dramatic, hoping for a bigger tip.
Still, I wasn’t going to take unnecessary risks; I eyed the croc suspiciously. It appeared to be asleep, barely any sign of life. I reckoned I could outrun it, should it come to that.
I moved closer, crouching low to get the perfect shot.
“National Geographic, here I come, I said quietly, raising my camera.”
The attack was over in a flash, as was my life.
Still, it was an amazing photo.

SERENDIPIDY

I’m sorry to say, they don’t keep well.
It’s not long before they start to smell and go bad.
And they do tend to attract flies, which isn’t particularly pleasant.
It’s a shame really. I’d love to be able to put them on display to show to my visitors. After all, there’s really nothing like a set of decapitated human heads as a conversation starter at parties.
Sadly, until I can come up with a way to keep them fresh, that’s just not going to be possible.
So, until then…
I’ll just keep on eating them. They’re really rather tasty!

TOM

Transurethral Resection of the Prostate

Last week I got interpolated. In the biz it’s call a Terp or Turp. Sounds like a small Africa bird in the shadow of Kilimanjaro. Nup. Think dermel tunneling into a gland. I will fore-go the image of tubing and ballons for the fain of heart. What I can address is a new understanding of the pain chart. Like Spinal Tap is goes from 1 to 11. Well I thought it when from 1 to 11. I discovered a land that leave that silly 11 in the dust. Lot of screaming. Damn near a religious experience. If I don’t move ……

LIZZIE

I knew someone innocent would die. He wanted to clear his name and trampled all over anyone who stood in his way.
I wanted to ask him “why”. But I never did. He would’ve denied it. The images have been doctored. It wasn’t him on the video. “Can’t you see?” And no, I couldn’t. It was him, stealing from his best friend.
When he was arrested, I said “keep well”. He just looked at me. And I knew I’d have to run for my life.
Perhaps I should go to that place in the painting and hide in plain sight.

NORVAL JOE

Mandi shrugged away from the redhead. “You keep well, okay?” She headed to class.

The girl grabbed her by her shoulder. “If you want Billbert to keep well, you’ll tell me where he is.”

Intimidated by the girl’s size and overt beauty, Mandi gritted her teeth and hissed. “I don’t know where he is. When I got up this morning, he was gone.”

The girl frowned. “Listen. My name is Bobbi Yaan. My brother, Patrick, is a Black Knight, and he’s missing too. The Knights know Billbert has magic.”

Mandi interrupted Bobbi. “He doesn’t have magic. He has a superpower.”

PLANET Z

The first module we played was the keep on the borderlands, a castle at the edge of some caves, full of warring tribes of monsters and some kind of evil temple. At some point, our characters tried to rob the jewelry store and ended up getting killed by the castle guards. The new characters we rolled up for the next adventure were looked on with a bit more suspicion. So this time we ended up poisoning the well. After a few years, I stopped playing. I never got good at painting the miniatures, but I did like collecting fancy dice.

George and his grandmother

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Other pirates looted and plundered, while George spent a lot of time writing to his grandmother.
She’d send care packages, which contained cookies and brownies and socks and underwear.
His crewmates stole George’s socks, ran the underwear up the mast to fly with the Jolly Roger, and ate all of the cookies and brownies.
Clutching their stomachs, they vomited blood and died horrible, painful deaths.
George wrote his grandmother again to tell her that she really needs new glasses.
“Or put bigger labels on the vanilla and arsenic bottles.”

George sells treasure maps

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
All the other pirates looked for buried treasure with their treasure maps.
George got an idea and made really cool-looking treasure maps.
Then he’d sell them to unsuspecting pirates.
He made a lot of money this way.
Too much to carry around.
So, he put it in an old tea chest and buried it in his back yard.
And drew up a map to remind him where it was.
He sold that map to someone by accident.
Sure enough, the next morning, there was a hole in the yard.

George eats too much

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was a fierce competitive eater though.
Won a few championships at county fairs and restaurant openings.
Hot dogs, pizzas, chicken wings… if you could eat it, George ate it.
A lot of it. And he ate it quickly.
Afterwards, he’d go off to an alley and throw it all up, but he’d kept it down long enough to pick up the trophy and the prize money.
But George didn’t mind it all that much, considering how many times he’d been seasick during his days on the high seas.

George vs Marketing Consultants

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
But even a not-very-good pirate can see the evil in marketing consultants.
“You need to rebrand!” said the consultant. “You’re not pirates, you’re independent resellers.”
The consultant instituted standard uniforms, providing the hook-handed, peg-legged, and eye-patched crewmembers with realistic prostheses.
“And we’ve got to work on language skills. Your grammar and jargon are simply awful!”
Hostages became negotiating assets, booty became procured trading goods.
The crew held a meeting, then keel-hauled the landlubber.
“Oh, sorry,” said George. “We’re terminating your contract through a barnacle-scrubbing maintenance operation. Is that better?”

George hates operations manuals

George was a pirate but he wasn’t a very good pirate. The problem was that the captain kept changing the ship’s operation manuals. He made procedures more and more complex, making it harder for any pirates to get any actual work done with consistency. And he changed the terminology and names of things. This confused the Pirates even more. Eventually, George held a meeting with all the other pirates on the ship. The captain woke up to George standing in front of him with a dagger to his throat. What’s the bullshit term you use for mutiny now? Asked George.

George and the raven

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was always leaving the ship’s portholes open, and one day a raven flew in and landed on George’s head.
“Nevermore,” said the raven.
“What the crap does that mean?” said George.
“Nevermore,” repeated the bird.
George swatted the raven away, got up, and looked up nevermore in a dictionary.
The definition further irritated him.
“Why would a raven say nevermore?” said George.
“Nevermore,” said the raven.
George drew his cutlass and killed the annoying bird.
He roasted it in the galley and ate it.
Quoth the pirate, “Delicious.”

Weekly Challenge #1005 – PICK TWO Display, Poem, Background music, 158, Rockfall

The next topic is Keep well

RICHARD

— Festival—

It was one of the weirdest concepts I’d ever come across in my years in the music business.
‘Rockfall 25′ – the world’s first festival of background music.
I can’t say the lineup was impressive, I’d never heard of the headline acts, and the programme wasn’t at all attractive. I couldn’t see myself succumbing to the delights of the ‘Elevator Music Tent’; and the idea of the ‘On-hold Music Stage’ was far from appealing.
I went anyway.
It was great.
A relaxing few days just doing my own thing in a field, to the accompaniment of unobtrusive, quiet background music.

LIZZIE

Discard the old.
Discard the old and frame it. Put it on display so you never forget.
The background music, nagging your memory, doesn’t help. But… Forget it.
Forget it all. Move elsewhere. Do something else. Walk away.
They’ll try to chase you, those cold recollections, they will. But… Forget them.
Forget it all. Sell your house. Buy a new one where no one knows you. Walk away.
Leave your pain behind. Or whatever you call pain. It might be a wave, a word, a doubt and a certainty.
The water is dark and deep. But… forget it.
Save yourself.

TOM

One isn’t the loneliest number

Today number of interest is 158 that can be displayed in number of ways: 3 × 53 it’s prime factorization. In hex-s 0x9F or even binary 10011111. My favorite is 158 displayed as a Lego number 555 222 (some ensemble required) Of course the weirdest quality of 158 is it is the prime celestial. Baron Otto Von Patton in 1827 discovered 158 was the number of angles that could fit on the head on a pin. One may ask how do you get angles to display in a non-celestial realm? Prune juice, well actually the effect of same juice. Snot bad.

LISA

Late For Work

Peter’s turned himself around after the shock of routine blood test results. Diagnosed as pre-diabetic with high cholesterol he swapped crashing with a croissant first thing to an early morning run. Everyone’s noticed the impact of these choices. The background music from his earbuds this morning is Thunder by AC/DC; it’s hard not to think of those cheerleaders coming out onto the pitch.
Ahead & unseen a car is reversing from their driveway. Peter looks like poetry in motion as his feet hit the pavement in time to the music’s thump.
He picks up his speed.
So does the car.

SERENDIPIDY

Blood-curdling screams; wailing and moaning; heart-rending sobs. Not exactly the average person’s idea of background music or chilled ambience, but I love it.
I don’t have to worry about royalties or copyright claims. Every expression of pain is unique and fleeting, meant to be enjoyed just once, and never repeated.
It can get a bit messy of course, but that’s only to be expected – and, if I’m honest, that just adds to the enjoyment.
It’s an acquired taste, which to you may sound vile…
But, I think the sounds of pain are just like a finely-crafted poem.

NORVAL JOE

Mandi didn’t know why this girl wanted to talk to her. She tried not to display any sign of understanding and asked, “What do you want?”

The tall girl rolled her eyes. “I know you know Billbert, and Sabrina, too. I need to talk to them, both.”

Background music for the morning announcements began to play over speakers in the hallway and Mandi said, “Um. It’s almost time for class.” She didn’t move.

The girl put a hand gently on Mandi’s shoulder and stepped close. “I’m Bobbi. I’m a friend of Billbert’s and it’s important that I talk to him.”

PLANET Z

Pro wrestling isn’t fake, but it’s not a sport.
Every corporation states that clearly in their charter to avoid regulation and tax issues.
It’s a scripted performance. It’s art.
It doesn’t mean that it’s completely fake, because the talent and crew still need to build up their skills and bodies.
And they do get hurt. Just like other performers in the arts, like figure skaters and gymnasts.
But just as much as ballroom dancing and ballet isn’t a sport, figure skating and gymnastics and wrestling aren’t either.
Still, it’s fun to watch. Now and then.
If you’re five or six.

George the Marauders fan

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He was a loyal baseball fan, though.
No, he didn’t follow the Pittsburgh Pirates.
No self-respecting pirate would be caught dead in Pittsburgh.
He followed the Bradeton Marauders, a minor league club.
George went to every game, dressed up in his best pirate regalia, and he’d lead the cheers.
Waving his cutlass in the air, shouting for all nine innings.
The fans thought he was awesome.
“You’re the best pirate ever,” the kids would say.
And, with a happy tear in his eye, he shouted “ONE TWO THREE… YARRRRRRRRRRR!”