Tough Shit
"She was, like, totally wearing it."
"Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding."
"No joke! It was right there, sewed to her backpack!"
"I know she’s tough, but I never thought she’d actually--"
April walked up. "Did you hear?"
"Yes! She’s soooo cool."
I left them to gab. I couldn’t quite get on board with the other girls. It was interesting, sure, but I wasn’t as enthralled by the popular girls, and couldn’t quite to overlook the basic ickiness.
I mean, we all know how brutal high school girls can be to one another, but to take a scalp?
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Prompt: Berserk
First Contact
"There’s no sign of a control signal or an operator."
"So the machines are working independently?"
"It would seem that way."
"So we have self-motivated replicators, of unknown alien origin, harvesting planetary resources with a high degree of efficiency."
"That’s right."
"Sounds like von Neumann time. Any chance of a Berserker scenario?"
"Could be."
"Report this to central, now."
---
::brood seven-nine-six note::
carbon-compound-based machines, operating with the aid of nonsentient metal/silicon constructs but without evident outside control
chance of danger to continued operations in area: high
request immediate quarantine of area by demolition brood
"There’s no sign of a control signal or an operator."
"So the machines are working independently?"
"It would seem that way."
"So we have self-motivated replicators, of unknown alien origin, harvesting planetary resources with a high degree of efficiency."
"That’s right."
"Sounds like von Neumann time. Any chance of a Berserker scenario?"
"Could be."
"Report this to central, now."
---
::brood seven-nine-six note::
carbon-compound-based machines, operating with the aid of nonsentient metal/silicon constructs but without evident outside control
chance of danger to continued operations in area: high
request immediate quarantine of area by demolition brood
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Prompt: Free
Till Tomorrow
A life devoted to freedom is a constant battle.
Every day I’m given choices. You might think this the essence of freedom, but you’d be wrong.
Yes, the choices themselves are freedom, but the moment you choose one, the others disappear; you are no longer free.
So to preserve maximum freedom, one simply must not make any choices. Except, not choosing is in itself a choice, and again obliterates all the other possible choices.
The secret is putting off choices. Deferred enrollment, "I’ll tell you tomorrow," that sort of thing.
How does the drabble end? I’ll get to that later.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Prompt: Pancake
No Business
I stand under the stage lights, sweating through my pancake makeup. The audience holds its breath in anticipation, but I keep them waiting, to build interest. The better the ratings, the longer I keep the job.
The harlot is led onstage by two robed acolytes. Nice tits and ass, great in the tiny dress. She struggles a bit, cowers convincingly before the trick blade. A great bit of acting; shame she’ll need a new face and name before she can work again. I deftly jab and slice at her stomach; blood pours out, soaking us both.
No business like show.
I stand under the stage lights, sweating through my pancake makeup. The audience holds its breath in anticipation, but I keep them waiting, to build interest. The better the ratings, the longer I keep the job.
The harlot is led onstage by two robed acolytes. Nice tits and ass, great in the tiny dress. She struggles a bit, cowers convincingly before the trick blade. A great bit of acting; shame she’ll need a new face and name before she can work again. I deftly jab and slice at her stomach; blood pours out, soaking us both.
No business like show.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Prompt: Mark
Heredity
"Honey, there’s something on your cheek." She touches my face with her lovely, slender fingers.
"Huh, it’s not coming off."
Chills. Already?
"What’s wrong?"
"I have to use the bathroom." Lock the door, peer into the mirror. I recognize the Mark from my only photo of Dad. I’d hoped it was a family myth, but no.
I know I can’t pass this on.
---
The other mourners avoid me. There’d was no note, but I think everyone thinks I know why he did it.
I touch my belly. At least there’s someone. I wish I’d had the chance to tell him.
"Honey, there’s something on your cheek." She touches my face with her lovely, slender fingers.
"Huh, it’s not coming off."
Chills. Already?
"What’s wrong?"
"I have to use the bathroom." Lock the door, peer into the mirror. I recognize the Mark from my only photo of Dad. I’d hoped it was a family myth, but no.
I know I can’t pass this on.
---
The other mourners avoid me. There’d was no note, but I think everyone thinks I know why he did it.
I touch my belly. At least there’s someone. I wish I’d had the chance to tell him.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Prompt: Ridiculous
Bagel
"Actually, I’m running a website myself."
"Oh really? Which one?"
"Ridiculous-bagel.com."
"Is that... so. What’s on the site?"
"What you’d think. We’re the world’s biggest repository of photos and information related to unorthodox round, boiled bread. We have sections for deformed specimens, over- and under-sized bagels, strange flavors. We even have a special section on spreads and toppings – it’s called ‘The Lox Box.’"
"So, do you do this for fun, or is it a money-making venture?" I try to think of how Ridiculous-Bagel.com could possibly be monetized.
"Oh no, I’m just stark raving mad."
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Prompt: Fabulous
The World’s A Dress
Fabulous. Originally meant "mythical," beyond belief. Literally, "told in fables."
Maybe, but there it was. And the dress was fabulous. The colors, the materials, the cut – everything was right, without being the slightest bit over the top. It was perfection.
And for once, I could pull it off. I was never a clotheshorse, but this worked, perfectly. It was like it had been designed for me, or maybe like I was designed for it. The men were all over me. The women, too, those so inclined. I was unstoppable.
I had to destroy it, of course. Before it destroyed me.
Fabulous. Originally meant "mythical," beyond belief. Literally, "told in fables."
Maybe, but there it was. And the dress was fabulous. The colors, the materials, the cut – everything was right, without being the slightest bit over the top. It was perfection.
And for once, I could pull it off. I was never a clotheshorse, but this worked, perfectly. It was like it had been designed for me, or maybe like I was designed for it. The men were all over me. The women, too, those so inclined. I was unstoppable.
I had to destroy it, of course. Before it destroyed me.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Prompt: Trouble
Seven Months
"So Gracie has gotten herself in Trouble." I could hear the capital letter. "I suppose it was a matter of time."
I hoped the trouble wasn’t too bad. I always liked cousin Grace, even if Mother always treated her like she was round to steal the silver.
"It’ll be done with in seven months."
I gasped, nearly giving away my eavesdropping place at the top of the stairway. Even when I tried to shave Missy, our golden retriever, I was only grounded a week. I said a prayer that Aunt Martha would show mercy. Surely it couldn’t be that bad.
"So Gracie has gotten herself in Trouble." I could hear the capital letter. "I suppose it was a matter of time."
I hoped the trouble wasn’t too bad. I always liked cousin Grace, even if Mother always treated her like she was round to steal the silver.
"It’ll be done with in seven months."
I gasped, nearly giving away my eavesdropping place at the top of the stairway. Even when I tried to shave Missy, our golden retriever, I was only grounded a week. I said a prayer that Aunt Martha would show mercy. Surely it couldn’t be that bad.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Double Drabble Sunday! Prompt: Fist
Hailstones
Fist-sized hail fell outside the window. Hmm. That never sounded right to me. People’s fists come in so many sizes; is this a big fist or little?
But it’s what we have to say. We live in different times now. And if our benevolent overlords say no public mention of sports, the weatherman sure as hell isn’t going to put his ass on the line.
Still, golfballs, baseballs, and the like were so precise and descriptive. And there was a lot less to watch on TV in bars.
Who’d have known that rule by nerds could be so oppressive?
Fisting
"But we can’t beat them, right? We’re small, we’re weak, we’re nothing against the big bad status quo. Right?" A murmur played across the audience; they weren’t sure where he was going.
"Well, I say think again.
"Because one by one, we’re nothing. But all together we’re unstoppable.
"A single twig will break with two fingers. But a big enough bundle will yield to nothing.
"A single finger is weak, but together they make up the fist.
"So are we going to finger them, or are we going to fist them?"
The audience went silent, and then the giggles started.
Fist-sized hail fell outside the window. Hmm. That never sounded right to me. People’s fists come in so many sizes; is this a big fist or little?
But it’s what we have to say. We live in different times now. And if our benevolent overlords say no public mention of sports, the weatherman sure as hell isn’t going to put his ass on the line.
Still, golfballs, baseballs, and the like were so precise and descriptive. And there was a lot less to watch on TV in bars.
Who’d have known that rule by nerds could be so oppressive?
Fisting
"But we can’t beat them, right? We’re small, we’re weak, we’re nothing against the big bad status quo. Right?" A murmur played across the audience; they weren’t sure where he was going.
"Well, I say think again.
"Because one by one, we’re nothing. But all together we’re unstoppable.
"A single twig will break with two fingers. But a big enough bundle will yield to nothing.
"A single finger is weak, but together they make up the fist.
"So are we going to finger them, or are we going to fist them?"
The audience went silent, and then the giggles started.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Prompt: You
Touché
You’re just a few lines into the story, but you turn the page. As much as you try, you just can’t read anything written in the second person. Even something well-written; the point of view is a dealbreaker. You just can’t get your head around the conceit – you can deal with a narrator telling you what he had done or is doing, or what others do, knowing full well it’s artifice. But you can’t take being told what you are doing, thinking, feeling, when you know full well that it is not true.
And yet you’ve gotten this far.
You’re just a few lines into the story, but you turn the page. As much as you try, you just can’t read anything written in the second person. Even something well-written; the point of view is a dealbreaker. You just can’t get your head around the conceit – you can deal with a narrator telling you what he had done or is doing, or what others do, knowing full well it’s artifice. But you can’t take being told what you are doing, thinking, feeling, when you know full well that it is not true.
And yet you’ve gotten this far.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
