Dunstan The Unstable Existentialist

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As I sit by the fire, reading Sartre in my Kierkegaard Underoos, I ponder the meaning of life.
Then, I realize. Life exists, whether it has meaning or not. It is an end to itself, regardless if I am consciously observing it.
Anything else would be a lie, and we all know that the first person we lie to is ourselves.
Utterly absurd, this all is. There is no meaning to life except whatever meaning we impose upon it.
I, for one, shall believe I am a egg and cheese sandwich. I am part of a nutritious and complete breakfast.

Say It

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What is it?
I guess the best way to say something is just to say it.
The longer you think about it, the more likely you’ll try to come up with ways of saying something else, and then you eventually don’t say what you need to say at all.
And that’s not right.
The longer you take to tell someone something, you might forget some of it. Or you might feel rushed and it comes out wrong.
There’s no taking those things back. Especially things that need to get said.
What did I need to tell you?
Oh, never mind.

Weekly Challenge #88 – Christmas

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Welcome to the eighty-eighth Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Santa Claus.
It’s Christmas
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #88?
Zack from MothPod and Shameless Plugcast
Terry from Old Cootcast
Guy David from Guy David dot com
JD
Yxes from PodMafia
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
Tom from Footnote
Santa Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):


ZACK DAGGY

The Holiday is here to celebrate Christ our Lord.
The one day a year that I am not ignored.
Gone are the cold streets, cold nights, and cold gazes.
Replaced by warm seats, warm lights, and warm faces.
The shelter is aglow in the radiance of this fuss.
For the night that I’m here, I’m home for Christmas.
Sleep now comes as it has in the past.
The sad fact about moments is they that never last.
The night begins to fade and so with it the memory.
As I return to the streets to be lost in the reverie.

TERRY

Let it Snow!
I stared at the snowman, tiny black dots for eyes, what looked like a carrot for a nose. A shabby hat on his head and old scarf around his neck. He was surrounded by a blanket of a snowy substance and he had tree branches for limbs.
With a quick wave of my hand it began to snow, a snow that was heavy at first, but slowly dissipated to nothing. Once more I waved my hand and the snow began again, only to dissipate slowly. A lovely site, simply lovely.
I quickly covered the globe in tissue, carefully making sure the glass ball was secure and protected, then lowered it into the box and wrapped it in Christmas paper.
On the card I wrote; from your secret Santa, let it snow.

GUY

There was a suspicious red stain on the snow. Santa was face down on the ground. �Who murdered Santa�? asked the voice of the grey man in the blue suit. The rain deer quickly hid his paws and tried to look sheepish. �I don’t know� he said. �Well, someone must have done it since this sort of things don’t happen by mistake. This universe is just too darn organized for this sort of shit to happen by mistake� said the greyhound. �Say what?� asked the rain deer, holding his paw to his ear. �Caught you red handed� said the constable.

YXES

He loved Christmas! Seeing her wrapped in that big red bow, he knew why he loved opening up presents. As he reached up to untie the bow, he heard her giggle, then he heard her sigh. His eyes got as big as saucers as he watched the bow slowly drop to the ground. Now she stood there with just her Santa hat, and a sprig of mistletoe. Smiling, he moved the mistletoe to rest on her belly, and bent down to give her the best “under the mistletoe kiss” she had ever had. Merry Christmas to all, and good night!

JD

The old man in the Santa costume sat at the end of the bar.
The slow gin was doing its work,
so that even now his memories were little more than a blur.
If he could drink enough he would not feel guilty
until tomorrow when he again became sober.
Out on the street an empty kettle swung from a tripod,
while the first flakes of new snow fell from a black sky.
This Christmas a small child went to sleep hungry and then awoke
to an empty stocking hung at the end of the bed.
Life is not fair.

CALEB

Self inflicted gunshot fatalities always peak around Christmas time. Some think it�s Seasonal Affective Disorder, some think that inability to live up to the idealized Madison avenue version of Christmas leads to terminal depression. But the real reason is that the elves have too much free time.
Their goal is to finish toy production by the end of November in case there are delays. When there are no delays they have most of December off. They grab Santa�s naughty list to find the ones who don�t believe and exact their yuletide vengeance. �Ho ho ho, mother fucker!�
Elves are assholes.

LAIEANNA

“This meeting is to discuss disbanding the Elf Exchange Program.
Injury and dismemberment rates have risen significantly in the human
world.”
“Your accusations are an insult! Where’s the proof?”
“Here’s documented cases of injury, including eyes lost, for improper
use of the bow and arrow.”
“Simpletons!”
“Girls have rashes from the nature jewelry.”
“Absurd!”
“They’re made of poison ivy! And a huge number of defective toys are
leaving this shop, damaged by troublesome fairies that accompany you
Wood Elves.”
“Your lies will bring upon a war of the Elves!”
“Try it, Windtree. We have the fat man on our side.”

TOM

In the 7th grade I became fascinated with photographer. I talked my mother into letting me setup a darkroom in the back bathroom. As Christmas approached I made a list of possible stuff that a 13 year old needed. On Christmas day to my horror I found under the tree 30 feet of pine 1x12s tied up with a bow. How was I going to explain this to my friends at church that morning? They gave their condolences. For 40 years those shelves were used for a 1000 different purposes. When my mom moved to Arizona she took the shelves with.

SANTA Z

The elves, man, it was the elves.
They were just too expensive.
So, I got rid of all of them and went with some outfit based in China.
Then I farmed out the communications and support work to a call center in India.
Delivery went to UPS. Fedex and Airborne just couldn’t compete.
I filed for an IPO, make billions on it.
Reindeer? Hell no. Lear jet.
Venison sausage, man. Good stuff.
Then that shit with the Chinese toys happened.
By then, I was long gone. I was on Aruba, living it up.
Natalee Holloway?
Never heard of her. Honest.

Hawaiian Shirt Day

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Joey never played along with Hawaiian Shirt Friday at work.
Everybody else was as colorful as the rainbow, but Joey kept wearing the same button-down suits he wore every other day.
“Joey, it’s Hawaiian Shirt Friday today,” said his boss. “Come on, join in the fun.”
“This shirt is Hawaiian,” said Joey. “I got it off a dead Hawaiian at a nightclub.”
Nobody bothered Joey about Hawaiian Shirt Day after that.
But, oddly enough, coworkers started clubbing with him a lot more often.
He knows all the cool places. And, let’s face it, he’s good at sizing up fashion, too.

Wild West Bar

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If you ever find yourself in a wild west bar, the last thing you want to ask the piano player for is Madonna’s “Borderline.”
Sure, her baby is pushing her love over the borderline, but there’s no need to start a fight over it.
People have gotten killed for less.
No, it’s better to stick to the newer stuff, like Vogue or… or…
Okay, all she’s doing now is lame Karaoke-style covers of classics while dancing in her underwear.
No, that shouldn’t be a cue to dance in your underwear in the wild west bar singing Madonna tunes.
As if!

Elbow Job

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It’s hard to keep a secret.
Some women, they’re good at giving head, but have you heard about the one who gives great elbow?
Of course not. Nobody ever says “She gives great elbow.” That’s crazy, right?
Well, if you’ve ever gotten great elbow, you wouldn’t think I’m crazy at all.
And even giving great elbow is good.
Know the saying “There’s no such thing as a bad blowjob?”
Well, there’s no such thing as a bad elbowjob or a good elbowjob.
It’s all great.
Here, just tuck in your arm and stick out your elbow.
You’ll see. Trust me.

The Joy Of Work

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The biggest joy of this new office is the fact that it takes me less time to get here and a lot less time to get home.
Sure, I used to read on the bus, or listen to music, or nap.
But now, I can spend that time the way I want to. No more rushing through other things because my day was eaten up by a stupidly long commute.
Of course, my joy at my shorter commute means that countless others have longer commutes of their own.
I’m so sad for them.
Like they never were for me.
HAH!

Drummer Boy

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I played my drum for him.
I played my best for him.
Did he like it? Did he smile?
No. He cried! He cried like a shrieking pig!
Why the hell was I playing a drum for a kid in a barn, surrounded by goats and camels and rats?
You don’t play drums for babies… you shake rattles. You pluck strings. Or play a flute.
You make goo goo noises in their faces until they clap and laugh and smile.
Stupid baby.
Probably won’t survive the night, anyway.
Hey, nobody’s watching the gold that old fart brought.
It’s mine! Sweet!

Speakers

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Ever have one of those weekends when everything goes totally wrong?
I download some music, click on the Play button, but I couldn’t hear any sound.
I turned the speakers on and off, but still, no sound.
Dammit.
Then I messed with the device settings in the computer, but I still couldn’t hear anything.
I spent the whole weekend changing out the speaker cable, then getting new speakers, and…
Wait a minute.
Are my headphones still plugged in?
Those mute the signal to the speakers, don’t they?
I’m sure my neighbors wanted to mute me for the next ten minutes.

Cucumber

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The doctor told me it was either lose weight or lose my life.
So forget the potato chips, folks – I’m on a diet.
It’s all vegetable snacks for me: carrots, celery, snow peas, and lots of cucumber slices.
Sure, it’s not easy to carry these things around with me everywhere, but there’s lots of those snack pouches at the grocery store these days.
Still, whenever I see a bag of potato chips, I feel the urge to buy it and tear it open and eat it.
My bodyguard then steps in to smash the bag into greasy potato dust.
Saved.