Weekly Challenge #927 – PICK TWO Bookcase, Verdict, Sprint, Crisp, Vulgar, Pregnant

The next topic is Position

That Erica Writes site I was talking about with Friday prompts (and she does a 50-worder where you write the last 50 words).

LISA

Escape

Someone whispered ‘Good Luck’ as we set off tiptoeing up the stairs, slow shaky steps away from our prison. We found ourselves in a narrow dimly lit corridor. The air smelled fresher up there: we had been locked up a while. The walls were lined with bookcases, like helpless moths we made for the light at the end of the passageway.

My nose twitched at the faint smell of a coal fire ahead. As we approached the floorboards, that had been as quiet as the grave, gave a bloodcurdling screech and we sprinted back to the safety of the basement.

RICHARD

Ikea? – I can’t!

“So, what do you think?”

I could tell from the pregnant pause, and the slightly embarrassed look on my wife’s face that my flat pack building skills could possibly need a little more work.

“Well… It’s a bookcase, of sorts”, she mumbled.

That was a bit of a blow.

“A bookcase? It’s supposed to be a bedside cabinet!”

“Ah”, she continued, “so what exactly is that other pile of wood and screws, then?”

“Spares!” I replied confidently.

She took my hand, and smiled solicitously, “Tell you what, love, why don’t we just buy a ready-made one from the store?”

ZACKMANN

After a Christmas dinner I opened my gift from my son to find I had received a DVD copy of “The Hogfather” which I had been hinting I wanted for a year and a half. I thought it would be cool that my future rewatches would be advertisement free. It could rest on top of the Pratchett paperbacks when not in the video player.

Not to be outdone, my son’s wife handed my wife, She Who Must Be Obeyed, her gift. My wife opened a framed picture of an ultrasound. I now expect my superhero name will be Grandpa Zackmann

TOM

October 25 1415

Our house is filled with bookcases. Floor to ceiling. Mostly pine with a few oak. It’s An eclectic collection from graphic novels to exploration of the Higgs boson. The complete works of Tolkien and the collected works of Shakespeare. While I have a soft spot in my heart for the Tempest the speech in Henry the V is wire in the blood. On field of Agincourt young Harry spoke:

Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remembered;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers

Bonanza

When I was growing up the number one program of TV was Bonanza. My Dad loved the show because during the war he met one of the actors. That was Dan Blocker. It’s pretty weird number of people my dad met during the war. Seems he got his front teeth knocked-out was actual written up for damaging government property. While in hospital he met a young Blocker recovering from wounds he sustained holding Pork Chop Hill. My dad remembered him as a gentle man in a huge body. He said he had size 14 boondocks. Dad always called boots boondocks.

NORVAL JOE

Mandi burst into tears. “We have to help those people.” She sprinted toward the meadow.
Billbert shot forward and caught her. “Wait. You don’t want to get shot too.”
The crisp chatter of semi-automatic gunfire continued from beyond the trees.
He pulled out his phone. “Darn. No connection.”
Billbert looked up at the sky. “Maybe I can get some bars above the trees. Stay here, please.”
Mandi wiped her nose with the back of her hand and nodded.
Phone in hand, Billbert shot above the trees.
The driver stood atop his septic tank service van, following Billbert with his AR-15.

TURA

Bookcase; Vulgar
———

My Library exists more outside this world than in it. Those who enter in search of a long-lost tome may find it, if their heart is pure, but otherwise only a spurious imitation. Those drawn by vulgar curiosity will find only vulgar curiosities. Those who seek enlightenment may find it, or something they take for enlightenment but which drives them mad. And those who seek to know how the Library came to be are never seen again, following reference after reference, ever deeper amongst the endless corridors of bookcases.

Therefore take care what you seek, lest you find it.

PLANET Z

Guilty. On all counts.
Of what?
Edgar sat in his cell, unable to remember anything.
Okay, he knew his name. But nothing else.
A man came to talk to him. His attorney, he said.
He was filing an appeal.
For what, asked Edgar.
His attorney stared at him.
Are you serious?
Edgar was moved to a hospital and doctors examined him.
Complete memory loss.
Not guilty due to mental incapacity.
He was a free man.
Free to do what, asked Edgar.
His attorney showed him pictures, told him all kinds of things.
But Edgar just sat there and breathed slowly.

CHATGPT

Amelia’s bookcase overflowed with tales, a kaleidoscope of worlds waiting to be explored. One day, she discovered a crisp, forgotten letter tucked among the pages. It held a joyous verdict – she was pregnant! Overwhelmed with happiness, she sprinted to share the news with her husband. Their laughter echoed through the house as they embraced the impending adventure. Amidst the excitement, they cherished the vulgar beauty of life, finding love in every moment. The bookcase, witness to their journey, stood sturdy and proud, a silent testament to the chapters unfolding within their own storybook life.

Knitting

Dana rode the bus to work and back, so to pass the time, she’d listen to music and she took up knitting.
She started small, knitting socks for the homeless people on the bus.
Then she knitted scarves.
And then she knitted them some warm hats.
After that, she knitted blankets and sweaters.
Then, she knitted homes for them.
Knitting furniture and appliances to put in the homes.
Some asked her to knit booze and drugs for them.
With some reservations, she did.
A few went too far into alcoholism or drug abuse and died.
For them, she’d knit coffins.

Thank you for all the follows

Thank you to all you followers.
I follow some of y’all back. The things I find interesting. Or inspiring.
Some of y’all are recent. Some of y’all are longtimers.
Some of y’all left the platform long ago. And maybe even this life.
I hope you have found peace, whatever your y’all is.
Some people follow-spam and like-spam to get their name out there.
It’s okay. How they play it.
It’s like everyone in a public park.
You can use the grass for jogging, yoga, touch football, a picnic.
As long as the person walking their dog picks up after, right?

Trial period

I made the mistake of buying the free month trial of LinkedIn Premium, and now instead of getting a sprinkling of anonymous people viewing my profile, I get a torrent of anonymized people viewing my profile.
Me, I don’t hide my profile. If I look around, I look around.
And I will message them more often than not, just to tip the hat or a good morning or just something to brighten their day (or darken their doorstep).
And I do hope they’re doing well.
If they’re not, I hope they do what they need to make it well again.

No mayo

A burger is a burger, right?
If I want no mayo on a burger and the chef slops mayo all over it, should I scrape it off? Throw it out? Throw it in the chef’s face and yell WHAT THE FUCK DOES NO MAYO MEAN, FUCKER?
Some places make you pay first because they want to make it a hassle to get a refund or a redo when they screw up.
And some take pride in their work and only ask you to pay when you’re done.
I think that’s worth paying someone something extra to bring it to you.

Tommy

Thomas Edison didn’t invent the light bulb.
Instead, he and his staff performed thousands of experiments with different filaments to determine the most efficient, cost-effective, and longest-lasting filament he could use.
He went through all those thousands of experiments, looking for something simple, cheap, and effective.
I wonder about those thousands of failures.
Did he just grab anything and try it?
A piece of bacon from breakfast? Hair from his head?
His wife’s dildos?
As some point, he must have been tearing out his hair, ripping up his shirt.
And that’s where the carbonized cotton filament came from, right?

Melvin is lost for words

I’m sure you’ve heard Melvin Tune’s songs. The man is a wizard with words.
The songs, they’re played all over the world.
Those familiar instrumental ditties that accompany your stroll through grocery stores, elevator rides, and journey around other places that play ambient background music.
For some reason, composers ask Melvin for lyrics to their compositions, he scribbles up a few pages, and hands them over.
The composer tweaks their song, turning it from good to great.
And then, they record it… and when they remove the lyric tracks, it’s just… well…
It’s just perfection.
And Melvin cashes the checks.

An Unlocked Door by Lisa

An Unlocked Door by Lisa

He’s not locked the door.

Maybe he never has, we all stare at it wearing the same expression- an odd, hopeful scared face. None of us want to make the first move because what if it’s a trick. It has to be. He didn’t answer when I‘d asked if we could leave the basement.

Why has he got us here anyway?

Where are we?

I notice a movement behind the crack in the door panel. He’s there watching, waiting. I mouth this to the others and we sit wide eyed and rigid.

Things were better when the door was locked.

Weekly Challenge #926: Crack

The next topic is PICK TWO Bookcase, Verdict, Sprint, Crisp, Vulgar, Pregnant

RICHARD

Thin Ice

They told me I was skating on thin ice: that, one day, it would crack and I’d sink into the depths as a result of my foolishness.

I never listened to them. I was young and free-spirited; nobody was going to tell me how to live my life, and nobody had the right to tell me what to do.

I knew better than them.

Turns out, I didn’t. They were right, and I was wrong.

After the accident, they fenced off the pond, and put up notices saying ‘Danger: Thin ice’.

Nobody skates there now.

My cold, watery grave.

TOM

Too Smart by half

Billy was a precocious little prick. Most believed he was most likely to come to a bad end. He was the sort who told younger children Santa and the Easter bunny were made up by adult to con them into being good. Further he flaunted any nursey rhymes. he would proudly land his foot on every crack in the sidewalk. One day the universe was feed-up with the little M-F. When he stepped on Crack but it didn’t back his mother’s The sidewalk when medieval on his ass, broke him in half. Universe noted: that’s mother fucker’s back, putz.

843

Somewhere

I was born in the city but my parents thought moving to suburbs would be a wholesome environment for young children. Bad idea. The Suburbs sucked. At the tender age of six I was dropped in a place with no sidewalks. Rustic it was, countryfied. Problem you ask? Fear of God had been driven into me never leave the sidewalk into a street. cognitive dissonance, Hal 9000 landscape. Later in life it became the define element to my dwelling choices. Anywhere with sidewalk was fine by me. Yup lived in some pretty rough neighborhoods. Funny the stuff that defines us.

SERENDIPIDY

I wonder what will make you crack?

Will it be the electrodes to the genitals, pulling out your nails with pliers, or maybe the water torture will do the trick?

Or, perhaps you think those methods lack subtlety?

Maybe I should kidnap your family instead and send you their fingers through the post?

Or are you made of sterner stuff, well-schooled in the art of keeping silent, even under great adversity?

To be honest, it really doesn’t matter much to me… I already have the information I need.

I just want to torture you, for the fun of it!

NORVAL JOE

Something whistled past Billbert’s ear, followed a split-second later by the crack of a high-powered rifle.
Wide eyed, Buhmilda clutched her stomach and dropped to her knees. Another crack and Sabrina spun around, blood spurting from a wound in her thigh.
Mr. Trump (Buhmilda’s dog) ran and hid. The other guild members around the meadow fled.
Rapid fire followed Billbert as he grabbed Linoliumanda and shot straight up into the sun.
He angled back down to the forest and set her among the ferns.
“Are you okay, Mandi?” Billbert asked.
She nodded her head as shots continued in the meadow.

LIZZIE

It was an ancient building. The crack on the wall grew bigger. But he wasn’t going to let it crumble down on his watch. So, he filled the crack with cement. When the wall collapsed, he was in Aruba, sunbathing. Everyone was horrified. Cement? Apparently, bad cement, who would’ve thought. The horror! Who had done that? However, they did find a secret room with a long-lost treasure. So, he went back and bragged. Not a good idea. “But, what about the treasure? And a crumbling wall adds character!” He shouted while being dragged off to jail. To brag or not to brag.

PLANET Z

Every time I flex the finger in my left hand, I can feel a joint in the middle finger pop.
It’s not just an intermittent thing.
It happens every time I do it.
I open and close my hand a few times, pop pop pop.
It’s not a knuckle crack. It’s not loud.
It’s just something I feel.
I don’t know how long it’s been doing this, or what it means.
I never remember to tell the doctor about it.
I’m too busy with my weight, my diet, and everything else.
I just open and close my hand, and feel.

The C stood for Cheap

I worked for a company that built its own vacation calendar and ticket system.
They said it was cheaper to build their own compared to contracting with an off-the-shelf system.
And they were right. It was cheap to build.
To maintain it, though, was a nightmare.
The workplace rules and regulations, all the connections with the payroll system (which they built themselves, too)…
It took an entire development staff to maintain and update.
So full of bugs. I spent so many hours getting them to fix incorrect information.
My current job uses an off-the-shelf system.
And everything works.
Including me.