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Glimmering Hope

Continued from "Super Sick" and "Is This the End for Lead Man?!"
~~~

Antony Chumbo grimaced as light from a newly opened shade poured into his eyes unannounced by a stranger.

"It's two in the afternoon," the stranger said, "Little late for a hangover."

"It's not what you think," Antony groaned.

"Oh, it is what I think," the stranger kicked the metal boot clamped to Chumbo's left leg. "Funny thing, the lead suit that keeps you alive is also slowly killing you. Who'd have thought?"

"How did you—?"

"It's my job to know. You should get that foot looked at."

"I have," Chumbo sighed, "Nothing works. I tried everything."

The stranger grinned. "Not everything."

~~~
More adventures of the Impregnable Lead Man

Gabi

From the terrace Gabi could see enemy tanks depart for Ornes to the north. The thought that they were enemies troubled her. Not only were they her fellow countrymen, but they had treated her and her mother with dignity and respect. For rebels they certainly had manners.

Gabi sighed as her thoughts now turned to her brother, fighting somewhere to the north, possibly even in Ornes itself, about to be attacked by the men she had been forced to house. If the rebels had made it this far north, what chance did the governmental army have? What chance did Jacques have?

Lost Verses to 'Oh My Darling, Clementine'

Dancing pretty, through the meadow,
It was really quite sublime.
Didn't know it was a minefield
Long-abandoned, Clementine.

CHORUS:
Oh my darling, oh my darling,
Oh my darling, Clementine!
Thou art lost and gone forever.
Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

Dusted off a can of carrots
Hidden back in the pantry.
Should've checked the expiration
Dated May of Eighty-Three.

CHORUS

On an impulse we decided
To visit the city zoo.
But you jumped the barricade,
And tried to box the kangaroo.

CHORUS

Sleepless nights within the lab
Playing God with DNA.
Crossed a line man was not meant to.
Monster-hybrids destroyed L.A.

CHORUS

Bad Dreams

I haven't slept in days. The walls wobble around me like Jell-O until I touch them and they become solid, but then the floor buckles underneath me. Still it's better than sleeping.

Because when I sleep, I dream, and I dream of him.

He chases me, laughs at me, plays with me like a cat plays with a mouse. I dare not even close my eyes anymore. His face is there. He grins that toothy grin that haunts me in the waking world.

I see people and shapes that are not there. I wonder if I'm asleep. Maybe he's gone.

Maybe.

Weekend in the Hospital

It was the third time that evening that he soiled himself, and the nursing assistant scolded him. "Why didn't you press the call button, Randy?" she said with the voice of a kindergarten teacher.

"I tried," he said. It wasn't Randy's fault he soiled himself, and it wasn't his fault he couldn't reply well. He did not seem to be very quick mentally, and the tests and medications he was being put through and on surely didn't help.

I lay in my bed on the other side of the curtain, praying I would never have to suffer the indignity he did.

Awesome Beard

"I haven't seen Wilson lately," said Feldman, "Where'd he get off to?"

"Oh? You didn't hear?" Lloyd's raised eyebrows dug significant ridges into his forehead. "Wilson's beard was declared a National Treasure."

"What?" Feldman nearly dropped his coffee.

"There was a resolution passed by Congress, and a ceremony at the White House and everything."

"How does a beard get declared a National Treasure?"

"Dude. You saw Wilson's beard, right? It was pretty sweet, right?"

"I guess," Feldman said reluctantly.

"So sweet the country couldn't afford to lose it," Lloyd said, "He'll be back on Monday as a loan from the Smithsonian."

A Cautionary Tale

"Hey, Eric," the responsible voice in your head says, "You have the whole day ahead of you. Why not write a story first thing, so it's out of the way."

"Nah," you say, "I still got time."

A little later the voice says, "It's your lunch break, but you could squeeze in a story. They're only 101 words long."

"I'd rather eat," you say, "and watch clips of Late Night with Jimmy Fallon on Hulu."

Several days later the voice says, "Are you ever going to actually post a story?"

"You can't rush genius, voice-in-my-head!" you say refreshing Twitter yet again.

Group Therapy

"We've added some new faces to our group therapy circle, so why don't we introduce ourselves to get better acquainted?" said Dr. Keller.

"I'm Lyle, and I have an irrational fear that my fears are completely and verifiably well-founded."

"Hi. I'm Janine, and I have an unhealthy obsession with eighties rock which I also think is fresh and relevant for today."

"Yo! My name's Matthew, but my friends call me Matty G!" Dr. Keller shook his head at Matthew. "N-nobody actually calls me Matty G."

"I'm in the wrong place," the man with a real problem said, "You all need help!"

Career Preparation

"I got onto the bus as I always do, but today was different. Today, everyone gawked at me as I walked down the sticky aisle toward the back," Billy said, "I sat down next to my best friend, Robert." Billy sat down next to his best friend, Robert.

"What are you doing, Billy?" Robert asked.

"Robert asked. 'I've decided that if I want to live my dream, then I've got to start now,' I said," Billy said.

"What dream?" Robert asked.

"Robert asked, clearly too dense to understand," Billy said.

"Hey!"

"'My dream of being a narrator,' I said," Billy said.

An Ode to Coffee

O coffee, sweetest of bitter brews!
It is for you I crave in the early hours.
From the depths of sleep you save me.
"Awake!" you cry in the morning.
"O slumbering man, awake!
Awake from your dreams and begin to dream
Of a bright future that starts with a single cup.
Forget you now drink the whole pot.
Avoid the discussion of caffeine addiction.
Ignore the fact you've personified coffee in a poem."
O coffee, my dear and only friend!
I cannot live without you.
I don't have a problem, do I, coffee?
You'd never lie to me, coffee, right?

Change

"Look. I'm not trying to change you. I'm just saying everything you're doing now has got to change."

"I'm not sure I understand the difference," Randy rubbed his throbbing head.

"I'm not interested in making you someone you aren't," Mr. Miller explained, "That wouldn't be good for you. I want you to be the best you you can possibly be."

"Okay?"

"And to be the best you you'll need to change everything."

"See, this is where you lose me," Randy said, "It really does seem like you're wanting to change me."

"No, no, no," said Mr. Miller, "Just everything about you."

Refind Your Happiness

"How are you doing today?" she asked after taking my order

"I'm fine," I said, "How are you?"

"I'm okay, or I will be okay," the Starbucks barista sighed, "Want to try a sample?" She handed me a chocolate chip cookie piece.

"Sure."

"It's good, isn't it? Just like homemade. They make me happy—made me happy," her eyes looked off to nowhere.

"They don't make you happy anymore?" I asked.

"I haven't had one in a long time," she sighed again, "Venti Americano with cream."

I take my order, "Why don't you refind your happiness in a chocolate chip cookie?"

Crisis of Infinite Nerds

"Greetings!" a nebulous voice greets the bewildered superheroes. "I am Drenrepus of Θ-verse. My true form is inconceivable to your minds. I have taken a form you can comprehend!"

"I can't see you," Batboy says. Others murmur in agreement.

"What? Seriously? But you can hear me, right? How about now?"

"Now you're an adorable kitten," Lead Man says.

Drenrepus shrugs. "We highly evolved Θians have long been entertained by your heroic antics, but disputes have arisen as to who would win in a fight. So you will battle," Drenrepus narrows his eyes, "to the death!"

"SULK HORRIFIED BY CUTE KITTY CAT!"

To be continued!

~~~
More adventures of the St. Louis Superheroes!

The Pants Paradox

Tonight was the night. Marcus was finally going out with Rachel. He put on his favorite pants for the occasion.

"Stop!" Future-Marcus and the professor rushed in. "I can't explain now, but if you wear those pants our life will be ruined. I had the professor build a time machine just to warn you—me!"

"Okay, then I'll change my paaaaaaaaaaaa—" Marcus faded from existence.

"What happened?" Future-Marcus asked.

The professor stroked his chin, "Apparently those horrendous pants were essential to the time-space continuum and without them Marcus voided himself from existence."

"Then why am I still here?"

The professor shrugged.

There's a Nap for That

Rip van Winkle shot awake. "Why do I have a beard?" he said scratching it. Then it dawned on him, "I must have been asleep for years. I'm in the future!"

Rip raced to the local coffee shop his friends used to hang out at. Justin was sitting in the corner. "Hey, Rip," he called, "Long time no see."

"Yeah, I know."

"Check it out," Justin said smugly, "an iPad."

Rip eyed it over warily. "This isn't right. Why is it bigger than an iPhone, but has less functionality?" Then it dawned on Rip again, "Unless . . . I slept backwards through time!"

Ironically, It's How He Injured Himself in the First Place

"I'm sorry but Luke's brain dead," the doctor says, "Nothing we can do."

"No!" Cammie screams. "He's in there!" Cammie sings a whispered trembling tune. "We can dance if we want to / We can leave your friends behind / 'Cause your friends don't dance and if they don't dance—" Cammie trails off in tears.

"Well they're no friends of mine," Luke sings dryly.

Cammie continues, "I say, we can go where we want to."

"A place where they will never find."

"And we can act like we come from out of this world."

"Leave the real one far behind," they sing together.

Hillbilly Politics

"'Ey, Cletus?"

"Yeah, Jim Bob?"

"Ya ever think tha fed'r'l guvament has too much power?"

"Sometimes."

"I hear Jethro talkin' 'bout how we's shouldn' have tack-shay-shun without rep-re-say-shun."

"But we have rep-re-say-shun, Jim Bob."

"Naugh after I refused ta respond ta tha sin-suhs."

"Now why ya do that, Jim Bob?"

"It hain't what tha foundin' fathers intended, I hear Jethro say."

"So Jethro says tha foundin' fathers hain't intended the sin-suhs to ah-pro-pree-payt rep-re-say-shun in ta Congriss?"

"Accordin' ta Jethro, Cletus."

"Then why they write it in tha Con-stitch-tu-shun, Jim Bob?"

"Huh. Ha'n't thought o' that, Cletus."

"Surely naugh, Jim Bob."

~~~
More discussions between Jim Bob an' Cletus

Constructed Reality

"Morning, honey," Leslie says as I enter the kitchen, "I already made coffee."

"Thanks," I say pouring myself a cup, "Why are you always so good to me?"

"Maybe because I am a construct of your mind," Leslie vanishes at the realization of her self-negating statement.

I stare into the space she was occupying only a few moments ago and sigh. This has been happening to me a little too often lately. I lift my mug to my mouth and realize something is missing. "Come on! The coffee was a construct, too?" I say to no one. "That's crossing the line!"

Why?

"Why?" was all she said.

Her voice cut deep and lodged itself into his gut. Inside it just echoed until all he could hear was her voice. It vibrated in his head, in his soul.

"That's what I wanted to ask you," he finally said, "I'd imagine you standing there. I'd ask you 'why,' and imagine a hundred different answers each less satisfying than the last."

She kept her stern face and stance, but her eyes betrayed her, but only for a second. "You have no right," she said, eyes tearful, "No right to ask me anything."

"I have every right."

No Refunds

"Okay, this is just not working out," says Sally, the older of the Beverly girls.

Timnur the faun panics, "No! You can't leave! You haven't defeated the Evil-Allegory-Witch yet, or the Heathen-Allegory-Heathens!"

"We're sorry, Timnur," Paul, the oldest, says, "but Smarnia just isn't all that much fun. Sure, you might be trying to instill us with religious values, but this place just feels like a pale imitation of secular fantasy worlds."

The Beverly children leave.

Deity-Allegory-Lion stops them, "Sorry. So sorry, children. You can't leave."

"Why not?" asks Edwin.

"You're all dead," Deity-Allegory-Lion says, "Quite a bit of tough luck, chaps."

~~~
More stories from the Chronicles of Smarnia

Empire Building

When all was said and done everything remained the same. Jennifer wept for herself and the forsaken opportunity to turn things around. She wondered if things would ever change now. The tide had begun to shift the opposite direction.

Trenton laughed at his good fortune. "What's the matter, Jenny? Sore loser?"

Immediately Jennifer felt renewed vigor course through her body. Nothing is quite like anger as a motivator. "Someday you'll see you made a mistake," she said, "When you realize it, I pray to God it's not too late."

"Leave me be," Trenton scoffed. He had a new empire to run.

Temporary Escape

VA-DUUUMM!

Dust and smoke filled the room, began filling Mouse's lungs. She could not see anything. Her ears rang. Pain shot through her entire body. She felt her body flying through the air.

She did not know how, but she continued to fly. She flew higher and higher until Dragon's Lair was just a speck. All about her were gentle clouds set on calm blue skies, and for a moment everything was a distant memory, maybe even just a bad dream.

Then she began to fall.


She plummeted to the ground.



Faster—




—and faster.

Just before impact she opened her eyes.

The Sword of Death

"Well, I'm off," Gilder says with a hint of relief that Yarnus the wizard doesn't detect.

"Oh, okay," Yarnus says, "It was good seeing you. Where are you going next?"

"I'm going to search for the Sword of Life," Gilder takes a step toward the door to give Yarnus the hint.

"Very interesting artifact," Yarnus mindlessly yarns, "Enchanted by the sorcerer Malki to heal rather than kill. Interesting fact: Malki also enchanted an exact duplicate sword with the opposite power. Not so much an enchantment, though. He just sharpened it really well."

Gilder sighs, "Next we meet will be too soon."

Trials of a Census Worker

From the second story window, I can see everyone who approaches my home. That doesn't happen very often as of late, but it doesn't stop me from looking.

Today is special, though. The census worker has come to call. I see him from the street, and I rush downstairs to meet him.

"Mrs. Wilhelm?" he says. He's about thirty or so. Nice looking.

"Just 'miss,'" I say, "Never married."

"Ms. Wilhelm," he pauses a moment, "Does anyone else live at this residence?"

"My children."

"Oh? And how many children?"

"Twenty-seven. Oh, here's one of them now!" I pick up Mr. Snuggles.

Self Portrait -sketch-

Kaja

Aleia could not sleep no matter how much she tried. She turned toward Kaja's side of the covered wagon and noticed she was not there. Aleia's heart began to race. She had not heard Kaja leave, and her thoughts immediately turned to the worst. Aleia jumped up from her mat and rushed outside.

The wagon faced a grassy hill, and atop was Kaja silhouetted against the large moon hanging low in the night sky. Kaja danced in the moonlight, and the fireflies danced along with her.

Aleia wished she could be half as beautiful and graceful as Kaja in that moment.

Romantic Gesture

Matt pulls up beside Luke's parked car. Luke is sitting on the hood with a boombox raised above his head pointed toward Rachel's house.

"You've got to stop," Matt says, "People are beginning to talk."

"Let them talk," Luke says, defiant.

"Luke, this is never going to work."

"If I've learned one thing about women, it's they are romantic creatures. A bold demonstration of love will get me back into Rachel's good graces."

"Yeah, but . . . Heat of the Moment? That's the most romantic song you can play?"

"We listened to it once, well thirty seconds of it until she switched stations."

April Fools Squared

It was the most brilliant and most elaborate April Fools' Day prank Gary had ever devised. He usually tried to refrain from patting himself on the back, but in this case he would make an exception. It was just that good. Chad walked straight into it, too. It was so great.

At the perfect moment Gary jumped out a yelled, "April Fools! I got you so good. You should see your face!"

"April Fools!" Chad shouted back.

"What? No. I fooled you."

"That's what I wanted you to think. Gotcha!"

Gary somberly returned to his apartment and stewed in bitter rumination.

The Situationtorium

"Greetings. I am Lucius Gracchus Scipio Bibulus and this is the Situationtorium! Our top story: Christianity. Innocent offshoot of Judaism, or dangerous cannibalistic society? With me this evening: Sextus Julius Africanus, Christian advocate."

"Lucius, it is preposterous to call Christianity a cannibalistic society."

"Well, it is reported that on regular intervals Christians eat the body and blood of a crucified Jewish insurrectionist. Sounds like cannibalism to me, Africanus."

"It's symbolic. They're just eating bread and wine, and calling it body and blood."

"You heard it here first. Christians aren't even good cannibals. This is the Roman News Network. Veni, vidi, reportavi."

Seaside Contemplation

Continued from "Vision at the Willow Grove."
~~~

We were all afraid to speak to him. The witch had made her proclamation. What more could be said?

Kannir had planted himself on the seashore and stared out to the horizon. After several days had passed, I could not bear it any longer and confronted him.

I spoke firmly, "You need to return to the village, Kannir."

Kannir responded after a few moments, "I have to find her, Goten."

"The witch said you saw a demon intent on stealing your heart. Be reasonable."

"I do not know if she was a demon," Kannir replied, "but she already has my heart."

The Clay Files: Unclassified

Rickie Clay nurses his cigarette as if it were his last. "We were just kids back then." Smoke cascades out his nostrils. "We were just a couple of teenage boys, a couple of teenage boys and an orangutan that played the drums." He stares out to a landscape only he can see.

Frankie Clay speaks up, "When Uncle Sam came calling you didn't say no in those days. We still trusted the government."

"So you secretly worked for the federal government while posing as a pop band?" the off-screen interviewer asks.

"No! It was always about the music first!" Rickie fumes.

~~~
More adventures of The Clay Brothers

The Heavyset Man

Harold shook his head in disbelief at the heavyset man occupying two seats on the bus.

"Can you believe that guy?" Harold whispered to his wife Josephine. "How can someone get into that kind of shape? I'm going to say something. I have to say something."

Josephine said, "Don't make a scene, Harold."

"Look at him. Even his eyebrows are fat. His eyebrows!" Harold then called to the man, "Hey, buddy. It's called Weight Watchers!"

The man heaved himself out of his seat and lumbered over to Harold.

"Now you've done it," said Josephine.

The man sat on Harold and Josephine.

Get Over It

Mark lets out a sharp exhale. They were beginning to delve into some really deep stuff. "I have this fantasy where I'm like other people."

"You're not like other people?" Dr. Papapoulos scribbles some notes.

"For example: I care deeply about how other people think about me. Nobody else does. I mean it. Nobody. Everyone else just does what they want. If they offend someone, it's that other person's fault. If they're offended by someone, it's also that other person's fault. I fantasize I could treat people as carelessly as they treat me."

"That's stupid," Dr. Papapoulous says.

Mark weeps bitterly.

Guess What I've Been Watching Recently

"Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger," Valerie says.

"What if you're brutally maimed?" Tom says. "You're certainly not stronger in that scenario!"

Indistinct mutterings of agreement spread throughout the group.

"Okay," Valerie sighs, "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger or brutally maims you."

"What if it leaves you with a crippled psyche, the husk of the former person you once were?" Jessica asks.

More muffled expressions of agreement.

"Fine," Valerie, exasperated, says, "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger or brutally maims you or leaves you with a crippled psyche, the husk of the former person you once were."

King of the Hobos

In certain societies it is considered a good thing to be crazy. There they make you king, though, being crazy, it is hard to imagine that you would understand or appreciate such coronation.

Insanity is seen as the purest form of communication with the gods. If the gods are beyond human limits and comprehension, the thinking goes, then those who have left behind lucidity must have special communion with the divine.

That is how the king of the hobos is selected. The craziest, most insane vagrant is selected by the most demented process known to man (hobo or otherwise): Democratic election.

Historic Legislation

"Senator Evans from Pennsylvania is recognized."

"Thank you, Mr. President. I wish to congratulate my fellow senators on the spectacular undertaking we accomplished earlier today. We answered the call of history as so many generations of Americans have before us. When faced with crisis, we did not shrink from our challenge – we overcame it. We did not avoid our responsibility – we embraced it. We did not fear our future – we shaped it. We finally passed S3133: Someone Please Name a Highway after Senator Evans So He'll Shut Up Already and Do Some Work for a Change Act of 2010. Thank you!"

~~~
With thanks to President Obama for supplying part of the text.

More proposals by Senator Evans of Pennsylvania

One Sentence Story Collection XIV

It had been two weeks since last she saw the sunrise.

It's strange, that even now, all my thoughts turn to you.

Frank's coffee that morning tasted awful, but that was to be the best part of his day.

Eric shamelessly joins the Twitter trend. #6wordstory

Ain't That the Way Love's Supposed to Be?

Absurd equations and notes were scrawled with a shaky and uneven hand across every available surface including the ceiling. Jessie's Girl by Rick Springfield played on continuous loop as Ben laughed aloud.

"It all makes sense," Ben said either to himself, or to the imaginary people populating his mind, "When you put it all together it's all so obvious." Ben fell onto his bed with a contented sigh.

His roommate, Jeff, opened the door, "Hey, Ben we were—What have you been doing?"

Ben sat up and smiled, "She'll be mine. It's only a matter of time. I figured it out."

Sir Malik

Steam rises from the frozen ground as thick black blood oozes onto it. Sir Malik laughs with sadistic glee at the sight. The monster has been slain, but Malik's bloodlust has yet to be slaked. He raises his axe and hacks at the lifeless ogre’s corpse. The black blood splatters everywhere, resting in large thick globules on Malik's chortling face. It burns the skin slightly, but Malik continues to decimate the body of the ogre, until nothing but a black mass is left.

Malik's companions stand off to the side and murmur among themselves concerning the mental health of their comrade.

Future History

In the city that never sleeps, the police force could not afford rest either. In the year 2022, the first robotic officers were inducted into the NYPD. They were little more than self-operating computers going through case files then. The first robot was placed on the beat in 2045, and by 2062 the entire NYPD was comprised of machine (except for the commissioner whose role was now more network administrator than anything).

If there's one thing computers like it's efficiency, and humans are not very efficient, even when it comes to crime. It wasn't long before robots took that over, too.

The Arrowhead Non-Proliferation Treaty

"The Choctaw must abide by the Arrowhead Non-Proliferation Treaty and allow weapons inspectors unfettered access to your reserves," Opothleyahola of the Muscogee declares.

"Our reserves are for peaceful purposes" counters Pushmataha of the Choctaw, "Winter is soon upon us. We need the arrowheads to hunt the mighty deer."

"If your intentions are peaceful, then why deny the inspectors of the IAEA (Intertribal Arrowhead Endowment Agency) access?"

Pushmataha uneasily concedes, "We will allow inspectors access in two weeks provided they do not disturb our sacred burial mounds."

"So you can hide your stockpiles?" Opothleyahola yells.

Pushmataha feigns outrage at such an accusation.

Insomnia

I cannot sleep.

That is not entirely accurate. I sleep maybe an hour at a time, after about three or four hours tossing and turning.

I don't drift into it either. One minute I'm lying uncomfortably on my bed and the next I'm standing somewhere I've never been, but completely familiar. You know how it is with dreams.

People I know reveal pieces of themselves I never knew. Since it's my dream, I guess they're pieces of me I never knew.

Then he shows up, ruins everything. Just like in my waking life. I wake up depressed, angry.

I cannot sleep.

Three-Way Calling

"Your phone's about to ring," the voice inside Misty's head says.

"That's crazy. How would you know—" Misty is interrupted by the voice of Gnarls Barkley singing Crazy, Misty's ringtone.

"See?"

"How did you do that?" Misty answers the phone, "Hello?"

"Misty? This is Daniel. I know we only went out last night and it's a rule not to call the next day, but I had to."

"Pathetic."

"Shut up!"

"Oh?" Daniel sighs, "I guess maybe I shouldn't have called." The line goes silent.

"Look what you did!" Misty fumes. "I liked Daniel."

"You can do better," the voice says callously.

My Week So Far

"You're getting old," they say, "It's only downhill from here."

Such words of comfort! Please speak more of them to me, gentle folk.

I understand Catch-22 now, all the nonconsecutive skipping through time.

Perhaps it is karma. I taunted my father with the typical gag gifts one gets on a fiftieth birthday. Now the universe has decided to "even the score."

The doctor shrugs, "Don't know what it is. I know what it's not, but not what it is."

He prescribes me a tiny pill. Thank goodness for four dollar prescriptions at Wal-Mart. They make me drowsy. They make me incoherent.

Misty

"Misty. Misty. Hey, Misty!"

"Shut up!" Misty says out loud. Other library patrons give her weird stares, but she doesn't notice.

"Nobody can hear me except you, Misty," the voices reminds her.

"Maybe I don't want to hear you either. Ever think of that?" Misty thumbs through a back issue of Scientific American. "Maybe I don't want a voice in my head all the time telling me to do things."

A woman walks past Misty.

"Her! Kill her," the voice says.

"See, this is what I'm talking about!" Misty says. "Okay, but this is the last time, and I mean it!"

The Obstruction Party: The Party of Ideas

"The Galactic Federation is expecting us to move forward on Universal Health Care, and that is what my administration will do. We have incorporated ideas from all fifty-seven major political parties. This is a quinquageseptpartisan bill, and we will pass it even if we have to go through the Amalgamation Process to push it through."

"That was President Lovenstein earlier today," says B'jnktl the news alien, "We are joined now by Obstruction Party Chairman Betelgeuse Titanium."

"We oppose the President, and he cannot say that he has quinquageseptpartisan support!"

"But the Obstruction Party opposes everything all the time," B'jnktl says.

"Precisely!"

~~~
More stories concerning Galactic Federation Politics

Secrets

"This doesn't leave this room. Got it?" Steve's face was as menacing as he could manage. "I don't want to have to kill you."

"Why would I tell anyone? It's perfectly normal for an adult male to be into," Amanda snickered, "My Little Pony."

"Not so loud! You don't know who might be listening."

Amanda took control of herself again, "Come on, Steve. Who would care that you—" stifled laughter bubbled at the back of Amanda's throat until she couldn't hold it anymore. "I'm sorry. This is gold!"

"Last time I ever open up to you."

"Oh, cry to your pony!"

Murder!

"If it pleases the court," Robby stretched invisible suspenders with his thumbs, "I may not be some smooth-talkin' city lawyer, but I think I know a thing or two about the law."

"What are you doing, Mr. Firth?" the judge inquired.

"I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mr. Holland was nowhere near the scene of the crime the night of the murder!"

"Murder? Mr. Firth, this is not a murder trial. This is traffic court and you were caught doing 47 in a 35."

"I plead insanity, your honor!"

"In this we are in total agreement."

Damien

Damien's hand hovers in a reluctant pause just short of the door. He grimaces then backs away slowly leaving his hand suspended at the door for as long as he can. With a sigh Damien drops his hand and turns away.

Click. Rrrrt. The door creaks open.

"Damien? Damien, is that you?"

He turns with a forced smile, "Hey, Julie."

Julie's arms are crossed, "What are you doing here?"

"I was just leaving."

"Let me go, Damien."

"That's the thing," he says, "I can't, Julie. I love you."

She sighs because she loves him, too. "I can't keep riding this rollercoaster."

Semantics

"We are gathered to mourn the passing of Lenora Gillespie," Pastor Sciutto said. "Lenora was taken much too soon from us when she was tragically struck by a meteorite."

"Meteor," called someone in the audience.

"Excuse me?"

"She was struck by a meteor. It's a meteorite once it lands."

"Yeah," Pastor Sciutto said, "it landed on her."

"But it was still in the air when it hit her," called the man, "so technically it was still a meteor on impact."

"Fine! Fine! Meteor! Lenora was taken much too soon from us when she was tragically struck by a meteor! Happy?"

"Quite."

February

The groundhog said it would be bad. The groundhog has a bad habit of understatement. Winter comes in like a lion, stays like a lion, and goes out like a lion; and a groundhog is to blame. Or the weatherman. I like blaming the weatherman.

Ice covers everything like an uncomfortable transparent blanket. My opaque blankets beckon me to return to bed, and I wish I could acquiesce. I cannot use the weather, or the weatherman, or a groundhog, or a lion or anything else as a scapegoat.

It seems February is always this way and how it will probably remain.

Bittersweet Reunion

"You're not as I remember," Jennifer Howe sipped lightly from her steaming cup, "but I can't quite place my finger on it."

"It has been a few years. I don't believe I'm the same man you knew at all," Kowalski smiled.

"You still have your old smile," Jennifer smiled as well, "You're not completely different. I'm sorry, would you like some coffee?"

"No thank you, Jenn. I'm afraid I didn't come for the reunion. You remember Lesley?"

"Lesley Park? Yes, I remember her."

"She's dead," Darrin Kowalski's voice faltered, "She's dead, Jenn."

"I don't understand," Jennifer said, "How?"

"I killed her."

The Interrogation

"What is your name, child?" Dragon's rotting breath hit Mouse with the force of a truck. Her eyes welled up with tears partly from the stench, partly from fear. "Your name, child," Dragon demanded.

"Mouse," she squeaked.

Dragon smiled a crooked yellow-brown smile that made Mouse gag. "An appropriate name for such a delicate creature. Tell me, Mouse, where do you come from?"

"From beyond—" Mouse's voice cracked. Her throat was so dry it hurt to speak. "—the mountains."

"What brings you so far from home?" Dragon's one good eye was fixed on Mouse.

"The sickness. I'm the only one left."

Confrontation

"What are you trying to prove, Holly?"

"Y-you know very well what I—Stay back!" Holly's entire body trembles, but her gun remains steadily trained on Phil. "So help me, I will shoot you, Phil! Don't think I won't!"

For a brief moment Phil's face is blank with shock, but he quickly recovers to his usual smirk, "We both know you don't have the—"

POW! Crrrrsh!

The flower vase on the mantle behind Phil shatters into a thousand pieces.

"Woah! Okay! Okay!" Phil holds up his hands, "What do you want?"

"I want you to suffer like I have," Holly says.

Life Is Story

"Today I realized I am not the hero of my own story," Quinn says matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me?" Talia says.

"I think we all have this idea that our lives should conform to the elements of a good story. There should be a beginning, middle and end. You should get to be the hero, overcome the challenges set before you, and live happily-ever-after."

Talia says nothing.

"I've realized I'm not the hero. I'm not the sidekick. I'm not even the comic relief character. I'm just an extra, nameless Bystander #2."

"I think I'll just walk instead of catch the bus," Talia says.

Final Project

Gabby says I think too much, and she's probably right. But with everything that's going on right now can anyone really blame me for thinking too much?

Mr. Sullivan assigned us to partners for our final projects. He says they will account for ten percent of our final grade. Ten percent! That's a whole letter grade if I screw it up, and I probably will, because I was paired up with Bobby Mitchell. How am I supposed to think about Social Studies when I'm working with the guy I've crushed on for two whole years?

Gabby says I should totally chill.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Show your sweetie the singularity of your love for him/her this Valentine's Day with the unihump heart!

S/he will say, "This certainly does express the oneness I feel we experience as being a couple. Why did I ever come to believe that a traditional two-hump heart could adequately express the unity of the love we share?"

To which you will reply, "Also it is free from the over-commercialization that has come to haunt the Valentine's Day industry!"

"If it were possible to love you more deeply than the concord of the unihump heart, I would," s/he will say.

Seriously. Try it!

~~~
Click here to learn more about the cherished symbol of love: The Unihump Heart

Heat Wave

A thunderstorm rolled into town overnight, and a stray lightning bolt knocked out the power for the small town of Springfield. Overcast skies gave way to cloudless skies and a blistering heat the following morning.

No power meant no AC, and no AC meant absolute torture for Henry. He tried as best he could to move as little as possible, only shifting with the moving shade as the day continued on. Despite his best efforts, it was still unbearably hot. Henry's white shirt had turned transparent with perspiration.

"It's hot," he said. Henry always had a talent for understatements. "Real hot."

Home

If ever there was want of home, I have it. It calls to me over the miles upon miles of ocean waves. It beckons me with sweet siren song, driving me mad. I consider for a moment swimming home, but my brain pipes in, "Wait to fly. It's much faster."

Though it's only briefly been my home, it is home still to me. Home sweet home, as the saying goes. And home I want to be.

Farewell, sunny Africa. You've been good to me. Now I'm off to where the buffalo roam, and the wheat fields stretch out like a sea.

The Case of the Fourth Wall

Continued from The Case of Doctor Walton, The Case of Zombie O'Malley, The Case of the Gypsy Amulet, The Case of the Magician, The Case of Another Detour, The Case of the Anachronistic Quote, and The Case of Science.
~~~

Shamrock O'Malley and I sat in our study, as we often had before.

"Like old times," I reminisced.

"Indeed," Shamrock noted, "Except for the convoluted way in which I somehow came back to life. I dare say if this were a story and not real life, I would say the author of our tale wasn't really trying."

"In any case," I said, "things are back to normal."

"Quite right," Shamrock agreed but not for long, "though if the events of today would foreshadow anything, it would be that our new adventures just won't have the spark they had before I died."

~~~
More cases from the files of Shamrock O'Malley

Mortobo

Mortobo spied the gathering mob of the village. He drew his knife. "Stay back," he called out as the people drew near, "or I shall bring lightning down upon you."

The people mumbled among themselves hesitantly, and the elder of the village was pushed forward.

"Mortobo," his voice shook, "you are no longer welcome here."

"No one commands Mortobo!"

The elder motioned to several warriors of the village. Five approached the witch.

Crack!

Lightning flew from Mortobo's knife, and one man fell dead. The other four charged.

Crack! Crack!

Another two men fell before an ax was lodged in Mortobo's head.

Beauty

Crickets still sound the same on the other side of the world. I imagine they are crickets. If not, they are excellent imitators of that which they have never seen nor heard.

Everything is beautiful here, even the ugly things. But I cannot help missing that which is not here, what I have left behind.

I close my eyes and I see more clearly than when I was there. My hand can reach out and touch what is so firm in my imagination.

With opened eyes the immense beauty of this place only reminds me of the beauty I left behind.

The Case of Science

Continued from The Case of Doctor Walton, The Case of Zombie O'Malley, The Case of the Gypsy Amulet, The Case of the Magician, The Case of Another Detour, and The Case of the Anachronistic Quote.
~~~

Meriwether O'Malley did not acknowledge us as we entered his study. He was huddled over beakers of various colored liquids.

"Dear brother," my zombified friend, the late Shamrock O'Malley said.

Meriwether coughed and continued to stand over his chemistry set.

Shamrock and I shared glances. Shamrock's left eye fell out of its socket as we did.

"Dear brother," Shamrock tried again, "I am in need of the miraculous powers of science to free me of this gypsy curse!"

Meriwether looked up slowly. "De-zombifying Chamber on the left," he said.

"Well, that's rather a convenient development," I proclaimed.

"It's SCIENCE!" Meriwether shouted.

~~~
More cases from the files of Shamrock O'Malley

Johannesburg

Johannesburg is a city that sprawls over the African landscape. You can drive for what seems like forever, and you'll still be in Johannesburg. You'll drive past the quaint suburbs, the skyscrapers of the business district, the shantytowns filled with little more than shacks, the rich walled-off living areas. You're still in Jo'burg, as the locals call it

But you begin to wonder if there are actually any locals at all, or if we all have been caught in the unrelenting gravity of Johannesburg. Some have just been here longer than others. You cannot seem to leave even if you try.

Brought to You by the Letter Q

"Hey kids! It's Grusto!" a grimy puppet declares, "We're going to have all sorts of fun learning about the letter . . ." he waits for the letter to be superimposed upon the television screen. It is a Q. "Wait . . . What? Q? Are we serious? Is there any less useful letter?"

"Hey there, Grusto!" an odd-shaped puppet enters the frame.

"Who are you?" Grusto asks.

"I'm the country of Iraq," the puppet's shape now kind of makes sense, "My name ends in the letter Q."

"You know what else has a Q in it?" Grusto asks. "Quagmire. Can you say quagmire, kids at home?"

~~~
More episodes of "It's Grusto!"

The Case of the Anachronistic Quote

Continued from The Case of Doctor Walton, The Case of Zombie O'Malley, The Case of the Gypsy Amulet, The Case of the Magician, and The Case of Another Detour.
~~~

"My brother Meriwether heads the Academy of Science," Zombie Shamrock O'Malley was beating himself up (and bits of him were flying everywhere), "It's so obvious! Why hadn't I thought of it before?"

"Perhaps it's because you lack a quarter of your brain," I observed through his skull.

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, my dear Doctor Walton," O'Malley explained to me, "Therefore; it should be a simple process to reverse the gypsy magic that turned me into a zombie with one of my brother's technologies."

I momentarily dreamed of the bygone days when I would have called this ridiculous.

~~~
More cases from the files of Shamrock O'Malley

Thor

"It's Thursday, Pieter. Where are your sheets?" Sylvia says.

"I wasn't aware that Thursday was sheet-day," PJ mumbles.

"I want those sheets now."

"Yeah, yeah," PJ sits at the lunch table and mutters, "I've been home for three months and it's never been sheets on Thursday."

"Thursday is derived from 'Thor's Day,'" I quip, "Thor being the Norse god of thunder . . . and bed sheets."

PJ smiles, "How silly of me to forget."

"Where are those sheets?" Sylvia calls from several rooms away.

"You better get those bed sheets," Alan says, "or you will have to deal with the god of thunder."

The Compound

"Do you ever think of outside?" Matthew casually asked.

"That's crazy talk," Joey said, "There's nothing but inside."

"Why is it called inside, if there isn't an outside?"

Matthew and Joey lived inside the Compound, a large building with no windows or doors leading out.

"What we have here is special," Joey said, "You'll let all we've got pass you by because you're daydreaming about some fantasy 'outside.'"

Matthew had been digging through the wall of his compartment with a spoon. After twenty meters in, he was ready to give up until a small beam of light pierced his dark tunnel.

The Case of Another Detour

Continued from The Case of Doctor Walton, The Case of Zombie O'Malley, The Case of the Gypsy Amulet, and The Case of the Magician.
~~~

"I'm sorry," Edward Hilton said, "but my magic tricks are beyond countering gypsy magic."

"Another dead end," the zombified remains of Shamrock O'Malley cried, "Excuse the pun, dear Walton."

"Well what do we do now?" I said with an exasperated sigh.

"If I may," Edward said, "the proper way to counter-act magic spells would be to seek the opposite of magic, yes?"

"Of course!" O'Malley snapped his fingers two different ways. "The opposite of magic is technology. To the Academy of Science!"

I sighed again as we were off yet to another location, and Shamrock's body parts were barely holding together.

~~~
More cases from the files of Shamrock O'Malley

Contemplation

George stood on the Golden Gate Bridge and marveled at the majestic pinks and purples of the fast-dwindling daylight hovering over the Pacific Ocean. He let out a deep sigh, because there was no one around for hundreds of miles who could enjoy it with him.

Being a self-aware zombie was not all it was cracked up to be.

"Am I a freak of nature?" George asked the demolished vehicles rusting on the bridge. "Why am I the only zombie who still knows anything? Sometimes I envy the mindless zombie horde."

George considered ending it all, but he was already dead.

Plane Ride

The air has long since become stale. My eyes can no longer focus on the tiny words printed in the book. They dance about the page, jeering me, mocking me. I fiddle with the air nozzle, but it has not miraculously begun working somehow. I push the assistance button.

BUM!

The stewardess answers, "Do you need anything sir?"

"Susan," I don't actually remember the name she gave while demonstrating how a seatbelt works, "Susan, I am ready to get off."

"I'm sorry sir, but we don't land in Johannesburg for another six hours."

My final shred of sanity crumbles into dust.

Books: The Television of Ancient Phoenicia

"Amun, help your father with—" Eshmun freezes mid-sentence as he catches his son in the most abhorrent of acts. "What are you doing, Amun?"

"Nothing," Amun quickly hides a scroll behind his back.

"Are you," Eshmun exhales loudly, "reading?!"

"It's not what it looks like," Amun pleads.

"My son is literate?" Eshmun laments theatrically. "Is there nothing more evil and corrupt than reading?"

"Father, reading is not all bad!"

"All readers do is sit around all day getting sick and fat as they consume books filled with nothing but sex and violence. What is wrong with oral tradition, I ask you?"

The Origin and Death of Asbestos-Boy

It was a grim time for the asbestos industry. Defending multiple civil cases, and fighting a growing public outcry against the use of asbestos, it was agreed that was the industry needed was a fresh face. If only the general public was made more aware of the good properties of asbestos, fortunes would turn again in their favor.

Thus Asbestos-Boy was conceived. Super strength and flexibility, resilience to extreme heat and imperviousness to chemical and electrical attacks were only a few of the asbestos-based powers of Asbestos-Boy.

Sadly, Asbestos-Boy was not impervious to cancer, asbestos's one weakness. That and respiratory disease.

~~~
More adventures of the St. Louis Superheroes!

Casey

"CASEY!" a high pitched scream echoed through the empty halls of the dusty house. "CASEY! CASEY! CASEY!"

"What? What? What?" Casey answered.

Tiffany rushed into Casey's room, which was the same as every other room in the house except for the fact that she called it. "Casey, I saw a monster!" Tiffany was gulping breast of air.

"Impossible!" Casey said. "Monsters aren't indigenous to this area!"

"Well, I saw one!"

Tiffany led Casey to the room in which the monster resided. Casey swallowed and with her bravest face on entered. Tiffany waited with grim expectations.

"It's just a chipmunk!" Casey called.

2010

A new dawn is rising.
Can you see it, dear boy?
With the rising of the sun
Comes new possibility.
Ride out and seize the day
As if there were no tomorrow.

A new year is upon us.
Who knows what may come?
Keep alive your dreams.
Follow the direction of your heart.
For if you keep hope alive
You may be pleasantly surprised.