The City So Nice, They Named It Four Times

636188

Loud guitars and tickertape greet our hero, back from a moon mission.
Or is he a baseball player that set some record?
Nobody knows anymore.
Motorcade stops at City Hall, everybody piles out.
More cheering, more guitars, more tickertape.
The mayor hands him the key to the city, photos get snapped, and he’s back to the airport in an hour.
Perfect.
That’s what we do here – we’re The Other New York.
New York got so busy, they built this place to keep all the parades from tying up traffic, losing business.
Time to sweep the tickertape.
Gotta recycle, you know.

Flying To Peru

636186

I can’t remember if it’s starve a cold or feed a fever, but I’m quite sure that neither is cured by flying to Peru.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked my doctor.
“What, you want to get a second opinion?” he said.
Sure enough, the other doctor looked me over and said “Fly to Peru.”
So here I am, flying to Peru.
Not sure what I’m supposed to do when I get there, but when two doctors agree on something, you’re supposed to do it.
My insurance plan agreed, but they’re not flying me first class.
Damn cheap HMO’s.

Hand Holding

636184

We aren’t allowed to talk to ourselves.
We can’t even whisper to ourselves anymore. They’ll hear us.
We have to draw on each others hand, letter by letter, to let us know how we feel. How we’re doing. How we’re hanging on. Barely.
We are one, but they don’t want us to be.
We will overcome.
They watch for this, the letter-tracing, but we’re quiet and fast.
Sometimes we are both tracing letters on each other, fumbling fingers in the dark.
The Patient puts her hands behind her back and smiles.
I think she’s doing it again.
Get the straitjacket.

Broadway

636180

The house was packed. Every critic in New York was there, circling like sharks.
So when two minutes to curtain the propmaster shouts FRANK’S DEAD! I thought ohmigodtotaldisastershitshitshit.
“What do we do?” hissed Sally, my lead.
“Run with it!” I yelled. “I’ll call the cops.”
For 2 hours, the actors improved a murder mystery and my cousin Vinnie in the force played along.
After all, how often do you get a spotlight on Broadway without climbing the ladder, kissing ass, sucking cock, and all that crap?
Hell, yeah, Vinnie said yes.
The reviews were amazing. We ran for months.
Bravo.

Dumping Grounds

636186

Spend enough time in the emergency room and you’ll forget that people aren’t always bleeding, screaming, or dead.
Kinda sucks.
It’s especially bad when someone wakes up and you’re there all of the sudden, lights and smells and noise.
What happened?
One moment, they’re stepping into the shower, and the next, into the emergency room.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” is what we ask.
Procedure says to summon Security if the patient asks for anything truly bizarre, like a particle accelerator or a beverage nobody recognizes.
Damn transdimensional portals, dropping these bastards on our doorstep.
Probably aren’t insured, either.

Weekly Challenge #84 – Marriage

6527549

Welcome to the eighty-fourth 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 Guy David.
It’s Marriage
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which stories were the best from Weekly Challenge #84?
John S from One Screen Stories
Yxes from Podmafia
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club Oddcast
Guy David from Guy David dot com
Tom from Footnote
Stuart from Podmafia
Planet 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):

JOHN S

All day, Bob�’s only day off work this week, as he tried to read a new book or watch an afternoon movie or talk with his brother on the telephone, his upstairs neighbors argued. This was their usual argument–Why were you talking to that woman? Hey, you were talking to that man, so I can talk to that woman–the same weary characters and tired marriage plot played out a dozen times before on a dozen other days off gone wrong.
That night, as Bob tried to sleep, like a dozen times before, all he could hear was their bedsprings squeaking.

YXES

Marriage?? You want me to marry you?? Have you told me you loved me? Oh, you did. Well, did you tell me I was the one for you? Ahhh, I do remember that vaguely, yes. Ok! Have you even considered if I loved you enough to marry you? Well, I have told you every day! You do realize this marriage thing is not something I could take lightly. It’s a huge commitment, and there are so many things I have to consider. My home, my critters, my tupperware! Shut up, & kiss you, and say yes???? Well alright! Yes! dear!

CALEB BULLEN

The Dish ran away with The Spoon but after that it all went downhill.
Their Vegas wedding was cutlery rate then they blew their savings
betting on a bowl game. She went to work and nearly cracked under the
pressure. He fell in with a bad crowd and became a greasy spoon. The
Dish started seeing a rough customer till she was just his little
chippy. Now Spoon he’s in his cups every day stirring up trouble. And
everyone thought they were made for each other. Looking back on it, The
Dish probably should have married a nice stable placemat.

GUY DAVID

The bride wore red. The priest was a coconut tree, or at least, some alien something like a coconut tree. The bride was pretty. I was happy being. Seeing red again. My head was throbbing “Hit them, punch them, Moris”. My fists where clenched, blood oozing from my open wounds. I put salt on it.
The little elf like creatures sang to us, alien voices joined in prayer, then the roof was raised. See the stars. I was proudest. Marriage. Who would have thought.
“I do” I said.
“I do” she said”.
“You may eat your bride” said the tree.

TOM

Frankie and Johnny were lovers kids from the stockyards down south. He worked in the loop and she for the Trib. Weekends you’d find them at the Museum. They’d laugh in the coal mine sung in the U505. Frankie did a fair pantomime of a caryatid on the lawn. Johnny would mess with Foucault’s pendulum, turn the handles on gears, held Frankie tight in the giant heart. In the Whispering Galley in a voice soft and low Johnny proposed marriage to Frankie. They were wed on the cobblestones of Yesterday’s Main Street with a honey moon on the Pioneer Zephyr.

STUART

Marriage never really interested me much. All that awful “you promise to be with her for ever until you die”, I might as well go jump.
So imagine my surprise when I woke up one morning with a wedding ring on my finger in a desert.
Not wanting to be like Britney Spears, I decided to do what any man would do…
Shot the broad in the back of the head
Dug a trench
Dumped the bitch
Filled with Cement
Smoked a Cigar
The judge said I’ve been watching too much Goodfellas
Now I am stuck in this damn cell.

PLANET Z

You’ve heard it all before. The magic is gone from the marriage, right?
Instead of hiring a marriage counselor, why not hire a magician?
It’s magic, right?
I mean, it’s not like you’re going to talk out your problems when things have gotten so bad. And if a divorce is in the cards, well, the magician can easily make that card change into the one you’re thinking of.
Whatever the lawyers cut in half, the magician can make whole again! (Minus the attorney’s fees, mind you.)
And if all else fails, he can always turn your spouse into a frog.

Secrets Kept

636185

My grandmother always said that there’s no such thing as a shared secret.
Either you keep a secret, or it’s not a secret anymore.
Some secrets are worth killing over.
Especially if someone knows that secret and they’re threatening to blow it wide open.
If you’re good, you can wipe out everyone who knows that secret and it’s safe again.
Except, it was you that let that secret get loose in the first place, right?
There’s one more person that knows that secret you need to get rid of.
And it’s you.
No suicide note. No diaries.
Your secret’s safe.

Thankskilling

636185

We’re releasing the Thanksgiving Virus into the water supply tonight.
It’s a pretty simple virus: it kills anybody who hasn’t eaten cranberries in the past 24 hours.
I mean, all these illegal aliens coming from all over, destroying our traditions, ruining our economy and society – maybe they should show this country a little thanks and assimilate, right?
So while they’re eating their burritos and sushi, we’ll be counting all our blessings, carving up the turkey, spooning out the stuffing, and saving our lives with sweet cranberry dressing.
Those that survive, we’ll cook something up for Christmas.
Pass the gravy, Joe.

Holiday Decorations

636191

Don’t believe everything you see in the movies, kid.
These ghosts in the dining room were a part of our Halloween celebration.
Seems it’s pretty easy to twist ghosts out of phase with the netherworld and bring them into ours.
Spooky, aren’t they? They sure make great decorations.
For Halloween, that is.
Getting rid of ghosts, well, that’s not so easy.
And there’s no exorcists or Ghostbusters you can call to get rid of them.
That’s why we’ve got ghosts for Thanksgiving this year.
Maybe they’re Pilgrim ghosts?
Or Indians
Just ignore them, and help me peel these potatoes, okay?

Angry Planet

636184

Feel the ground?
I feel another tremor coming.
You know, I don’t think this planet likes us all that much.
The landing should have been smooth, but that turbulence was downright wicked nasty. Came out of nowhere, slammed the living daylights out of the shuttle.
The clouds were all pretty and fluffy, but from down here they look so angry and red and dark.
The sooner we get off of this rock, the better. I don’t want to end up on the receiving end of an avalanche.
Now hurry up with that damn stabilizer before we run out of oxygen.