Sick Sick Sick

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Today is June 6, 2006, which may be variously rendered as 06/06/06 or 666.
Believers in the literal truth of the Book of Revelations are collectively Shitting a Peach Pit, for 666 is the Number of the Beast. Whereas, 36D is the Number of the Breast.
It is the birthday of Auntie Christ…and Uncle Christ will be in a world of pain, for he forgot to buy Auntie a present.
And it’s the area code for Arkham, Massachusetts.
I will observe the day by coloring in my Coloring Book Out Of Space. There’s a lovely picture of Cthulhu in there.

Mime 2

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Andrew Ian Dodge continues the tale of the mime…

Maurice was trapped in a bag on the Thames. Those who had been harassed by the mime would find delicious irony in this fact. Maurice assumed he was heading downstream as he wasn’t overly hot in the bag; his face-paint remained in tact. He tried to move a bit in the bag and was able to move around a tad. He couldn’t sit up at all; he could hear others mumbling to themselves. Occasionally he heard voices speaking in an odd language; one involving lots of gutteral grunts and clicks. He was overwhelmed by the fishy smell. The boat stopped…

Perseids

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Perseus, Kentucky was the place to go to watch the Perseid Meteor shower.
In early August, Perseus bans all outdoor lighting to make meteor-viewing easier, but some years the full moon ruins the view.
The city council came up with a plan: launch a rocket during the new moon and shoot artificial comet dust to burn up in the atmosphere for a spectacular show.
It worked brilliantly.
Pretty soon, every community wanted their own meteor shower, more brilliant than the first.
Leave it to those crazy rich Saudis to go overboard.
Allah’s will, they whined.
Who needs an atmosphere, anyway?

Weekly Challenge #17 – Colon

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Welcome to the seventeenth 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 colon.
Ten stories were submitted this week: one rookie, and the never-ending volcano of insanity from Planet Z.
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorite:

Who has the best story this week?
Caroline
Tom from Footnote Podcast
Lisa from Lemons and Lollipops
Kolek from the Kollektive
Laieanna
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Andrew of Dodgeblogium
Stephen
Houston Keys
Elisson from blog d’Elisson
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Thanks to everyone for sending in their stories, and I look forward to what you’ve got to write (and say) next week.
The theme will be posted shortly, and for God’s sake don’t blame me for it. You’re the ones who voted.

Buzzed

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Gene Krantz’s cigarette fell from his lips and bounced off of his console.
“What the fuck did Neil say?” he asked.
“Houston to Eagle, repeat,” said Mission Control.
“I’m King Of The Moon!” said Neil Armstrong. “Bow down to the King Of The Moon!”
“Maybe Buzz slipped him something?” asked a doctor.
The cameras showed the mad astronaut advancing on another with a probe. “I dub thee Sir Aldrin!”
“Back off, Neil!” shouted Buzz Aldrin, scampering back up the ladder.
“Cut the feed,” said Gene. “Thank God for the tape delays. We’ll just go with what we filmed last month.”

Blogger Lament

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Time for a little rap with Andrew Ian Dodge lamenting the situation we’re all in…

I’m just a lonely blogger
Writing online to make ends meet
I’ve got loads of ideas
And comment on current news every week
My shoulders are quite stiff
& my fingers are well used
And I often forget to dress
My best ideas come when I’m nude
I drink copious of amounts
Of lemon tea each day
It gets the juices flowing
And keeps me regular so its said
The newest is podcasting
This could be my thing
I’ve loads of contributors
And its getting quite interesting
Oh someone pay me to write
That is my only wish
You know its my right
Please someone pay me to write

AIDS Microwave

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There’s two symptoms of AIDS folks that forget: fear and ignorance.
Early on there was plenty of both.
There were people dying young and leaving behind loved ones, pets, material possessions and crap.
People would ask at garage sales, picking through tennis racquets and microwaves. “Did he die of … that disease?”
When told yes, prices come down. Or nobody will touch them at all.
Take this microwave, for instance. Perfectly good. Top-of-the-line.
Once they know about its former owner, people think they’ll get AIDS from it.
It’s perfectly safe.
Well, okay – maybe an electric shock. It’s not well-grounded.

Teatons

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Marcus Tee can be found at the Leave It To Beaver fan site, and he’s got a story for us today… okay, it was several weeks ago, but I finally got around to clearing my backlog.

The Teatons came to earth in incredible numbers. There was no indication that they would be, or had been, visiting. Once they reached earth, they spread to its four corners. Unlike the fears that men, scientists, had, assuming they (aliens) would try to take over by some violent method, they came non-invasively. Their agenda did, indeed, include taking over the world. Their way was one that would not cause undo panic or concern… until it was too late. Leaving small, square, slips of paper with confusing artwork on each, they would cause mass confusion bringing the world to its knees.

So that’s Marcus Tee’s first non-Challenge story. Here’s hoping for many more!

Mime

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I challenged Andrew Ian Dodge to write a story about a mime getting the crap beaten out of him because I was having a lousy day.
What do you think? Did he meet the challenge?

Maurice had been “performing” in the park next to the House of Commons all evening. He was doing all the classics.
For all his admirers there was at least 10 others who found his performance irritating. He contently cursed the philistine English under his breath as he did his bit.
Later in the evening he had a bit of bread and some wine as a late dinner. The cool river air put him to sleep.
He didn’t notice the oddly shaped men approach him. Their strength overwhelmed him as they tossed him in a sack.
The mime couldn’t cry out.

I think he did. Splendidly.

Grounded

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The world looks different when you have eyes on the side of your head.
That was the first thing I noticed. That, and my craving acorns.
The last thing I remember about my old life was the ground coming up at us. Fast. Those damned passengers – why couldn’t they have just accepted the inevitable? Instead, it’s “Let’s roll” and we end up in a Pennsylvania field. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.
I really thought there would be seventy-two virgins waiting for me. Yeah, sure: all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Guess the Hindus were on the right track after all.