Prompt: File

Escape From Building C

"Where’s the Richardson file?"

"On your desk."

"I just looked, it’s not there."

"Sir, I’m sure–"

"No more excuses! These things don’t just grow legs and walk away!"

* * *

Getting downstairs is going to be tough. I’m too short to reach the elevator button, but the stairs are each about as tall as I, and if I stumble my papers are all over the floor. I’m formulating a plan to hide on the custodian’s cart when I’m lifted into the air

"Who stuffed a file behind this potted plant? Hey, wait a minute... what are these things sticking out the bottom?"

Prompt: Wikipedia

Devotion

That building up there on the hill? That’s where the monks live.

They like to work on their document. I think it was just getting its start before you got yerself frozen, can’t remember what they called it back then. They say it used to be all sorts of people would work on it, though you can’t be sure with monks.

Well, used to be folks were adding facts; now there aren’t so many, the world’s simpler. Now they spend their lives cutting out irrelevant or incomprehensible facts, making new connections.

It’s strange, but it keeps the weirdo types busy.

Prompt: Soap

unGreen

I fight the urge to scratch. My water ration ran out before I finished rinsing off this morning, and the dried-on soap itches like hell.

I don’t dare complain; even admitting I’d used my full ration, let alone that I would’ve liked another gallon or two, would get me labelled "unGreen," a damning stigma socially and professionally. I remember the treatment Mike in accounting got after he was overheard double-flushing. Rumor has it he went without a raise or a date for three years.

That won’t be me. I just have to remember to use less soap tomorrow.

Prompt: Scream

Today's offering isn't strictly a drabble, as defined as a 100 word work of prose. Don't expect this regular-like; I'm certainly no poet.

CleanWhiteTruck

I scream you scream
 the cleanwhitetruck is coming

I scream you scream
 and scream and scream and scream and we can’t stop

You scream I scream
 then we stop to catch our breaths

I scream you scream
 I scream a little louder
 and you slink off sheepishly

I scream you scream
 ‘cause the truck is almost here
  where is my pig-bank?

I scream you scream
 it always ends in screaming

I scream you scream
 someone make the screaming stop
  it’s not stopping
   I said STOP

I scream you scream
 but the cleanwhitetruck is past
  jangling jangling in the distance

Prompt: Cheese

Mysterious

"Say cheese!"

Click.

"I think I blinked."

"It looks fine on the little screen."

"You can never tell. Take another."

"Okay, here we go!"

"Wait!" Aaaah-choo! "Man, it’s all over my hands. One second, I’m gonna go get a tissue."

"Just stay. Okay, let’s do this! Three, two–"

A cellular phone jangles.

So this is hell. Seems somehow... lacking. Effective torment, but I always thought this sort of thing was supposed to run towards poetic justice. My sins weren’t camera-related, nor did group photography figure prominently in my life.

I guess He has no monopoly on "mysterious ways."

No Prompt

Today's swotd is some bit of programming jargon, and thus greek to me, so today I'm running blind. It's my ballgame, so I get to change the rules whenever I want.

Foothold

"I’m no Armstrong, but I’ll give this a shot...

"As I stare out on this truly unearthly landscape, I am filled with near-spiritual awe. Man has made the next step out into the universe.

"But sending explorers... it’s only a step. To make it a foothold, we need civillians – we need settlers! We put Mars within reach; now it’s up to you to follow!"

The ray-gun barrel pressing into my ribs is withdrawn. "Very good," says Mk’thk’ll.

"You won’t eat me?"

"Wouldn’t think of it. You just guaranteed several years’ food supply!

"Though I am a mite peckish..."

Double Drabble Sunday! Prompt: Raunchy

The Trash Merchant

"It’s totally over the top. The violence, the sex – at some point, you’re just pandering."

"And what’s wrong with pandering if it sells? If you think we’re in this to make great art, you’d do well to disabuse yourself of that notion. If you want to elevate people’s souls, there’s a church down the way that might be a better fit. If you want to make money in this biz, stick with me."

"I understand, but don’t you worry about how future generations–"

"What do I care? I’ll be long gone. Now, let’s get back to it."

"Yes, Mr. Shakespeare."

Barstool

"I guess it was a little irritating. No, not just a little irritating – in fact, it was annoying as hell. I don’t know why we even had those meetings. The boss spent the whole time trading raunchy jokes with the boys, while Connie sat there making goo-goo eyes. I’ll tell you, it came as no surprise when he fired me and gave her my job. Oh, I’m not saying anything was going on, but one does wonder.

"But the worst was, nobody ever listened in that office."

"That’s tough, Mr. Powell. Hey, you ordering or not? It’s last call...."

Prompt: Door

Last

I’m the last one in the office, so I turn the lights off, lock the door so it will latch behind me, and hit the alarm button. It beeps to let me know I have thirty seconds.

Then I freeze, halfway out the door. I check that I’m not forgetting my keys, my wallet, my lunch sack, anything else then I start back at the top with my keys. The beeping gets faster, indicating ten seconds left. I break out in cold sweat. I hurriedly punch the code into the alarm to cancel activation and steel myself to try again.

Prompt: Handshake

Contract

"So where do I sign?"

"Well, sir, with all due respect, these things are generally done by handshake."

"Is that so? You claim to be fully licensed and bonded, and at your rates, you should be able to afford the taxes and fees."

"Sir, you misunderstand. If the agreement is on paper before the spell is cast, the effects are... unpredictable. I strongly recommend you reconsider."

"So you can screw me? I’ll take the risk."

"A, as you wish, sir."

I’ve learned two things: First, listen to magicians’ warnings. Second, flies can be delicious with a little butter and garlic.

Prompt: Funk

The Funk

"What is that?"

"What is wh– oh. Oh . Oh god." The smell was utterly overpowering. I looked upwind; nothing in sight. The smell was so strong I couldn’t even tell what it was. Not quite fecal, or rotting, or BO, or chemicals, and yet a little bit of all of those, and more.

In the distance I hear the sound of cars crashing, sirens, screams.

The scientists had no idea what had caused it, only that it was global and seemed to be hear to stay.

The press had less trouble, simply dubbing it, "The Day the World Cut One."