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[WP] "Come with me," he said, outstretching a hand. "I will make you a king." | It was the Burj Khalifa that started it all. A monolithic dart pointing to the heavens, beckoning and challenging something to best it. An arrogant and regal structure, awe-inspiring. James had only seen it on the TV whilst drawing some abstract shapes in the back of his notebook, and he paid attention like never before. Transfixed, inspired, James began to draw this building over and over again, and at that moment, unbeknownst to him, a real burning passion for architecture had ignited.
His brother Brad had always been the more studious of the pair. At age 23, with a degree in International Management & Marketing, he had already began pacing up the corporate ladder, feet firmly planted on each step. Always cautious and calculated, the anthithesis of everything James was. Their parents hadn't been creative types, so James was an anomaly of the Ableton household. An inspired and creative young man, James aged 20 had just been accepted into a prestigious Architecture course at the University of Pennsylvania.
"Take my hand, James. Come with me. I will make you a king."
James had never really had an issue with authority, he was always respectful and polite. This had been unwavering until he met his lecturer for the first semester. A callous, cold old man named Professor Leichton. Tthere was only a suggestion of hair left on his head and the rest had migrated down his face into an unsightly, messy white wispy beard. He stood at just over 5 foot tall, hunched and solid. His face was weathered and scarred, his eyes sunk like ships in a dark ocean.
"For next week, read chapters one to three. If you -cough-.. Don't, don't bother coming in next week. Commit or don't." He commanded, his voice firm and wise. The man was full of wisdom, but the wisdom had made him bitter. He dismissed the class, and each time his eyes followed James like a Hawk calculating the risk before going in for the kill. This had, obviously, made James feel very uncomfortable but his desire to do well conflicted his primal instinct to challenge Leighton. He just buried it, right next to the resentment for Brad, for making him seem stupid for not going into business. Architecture was an art to James, and Brad was the kind of man to walk past the Mona Lisa to read the stock market.
"Push the button James, commit or don't."
James was in his dorm one afternoon playing on his computer, quietly minding his own business. He had always been a quiet boy, never one for the spotlight, running from the centre of attention as if it was a fire. He heard a knock at his door and hesitated answering it. When he was alone, he liked it that way. Company was just an interaction better saved until tomorrow. He answered it after a moment, arguing he hadn't spoken to many people today and actually might value some conversation, and the guest was unexpected.
"James. I believe it is time, come with me." Leighton calmly requested, his eyes focused directly ahead, as if staring through James into a cold and lonely ether.
"Oh, erm, hello professor. I'm a little busy now, what is this about? Is it an--" James replied before being cut off by Leightons eyes shifting to James' like a bullet, piercing whatever thin layer of defence he had up.
"James. Come with me. The council wish to see you, and this cannot be delayed."
With a layer of sweat excreting from every crevice of his body, James froze. What the fuck is going on, he thought, how does he even know where I live?
And without a moment more passing, James was following the professor like a loyal pet. He had no idea what this was about or why he felt such an intense fear, but deep inside there was a spark of excitement waiting to explode.
--
"James. We are the council of well-being, human instinct and humanity defended. You may call us 'The WEB.' Your brother, Bradley Ableton. Are you aware of his companies business practices?"
"No Ma'am, I'm not. I'm sorry to ask, but is this about Universi--"
"James, there is little time. You know your brother, he believes you are well with him. You must convince him to move move his company branch to another office. There are many things UbenIc Corp. do that are incredibly in humane, but we believe they are manufacturing chemical weapons for sale to terrorist cells along the eastern coast. You must convince him to move to a building of our design, so we may suggest through design where they can hide their weaponry, so our team can infiltrate and remove the package and help prevent a national crisis."
"..... What?"
"James, you absolutely must understand this is pivotal for the survival of almost 3 million people. Can you do this?"
"I don't understand, I'm still trying to understand why I'm here."
"You're our connection. Your brother is the overseer of the project. You have an architectural background. Convince him his building isn't safe, and he has to move. We will take care of the rest."
The cogs that had been gathering dust in James' mind began to twist and scrape. His mind was exploding, this was too much to take in.
"My brother isn't bad. I know it. How do you even know any of this is true?"
"Photographs, surveillance, mainframe hacking, phone taps, you name it James. Our team has been following him for a year, and we had no plan, but now you came along. Don't let us down."
James stood silently and his hands began to shake. He looked at the floor, and around him and saw only the silhouettes of 5 figures he had been speaking to, barely lit by a wall of Televisions behind him with videos of men and women around the world, most following someone closely, others hiding in plain clothes, others closing in on their victims. James had struggled to think for a moment, but a few words made their way out which echoed his selfish sentiment perfectly.
"Are you the good guys? What's in this for me?"
The woman in the centre who had been speaking let out a small laugh that quickly subsided. The smile on her face was barely illuminated, framing only her cheeks and the side of her face, an almost perfect sight of evil.
"There is no good or bad. All we are doing is trying to prevent these people from dying. If you can't see that as good, you must not be our man."
The man at the end, who's face was entirely shrouded in mystery, framed only by a twinge of light showing his white shirt under a pressed suit, began to breathe deeply. He quietly said a few words that chilled James to the core.
"My boy, there is no good or evil. Only what you feel is right. Now take my hand, and we will show you what you will receive for this task. We will make you a king. All you need to do is commit. Or do not." | ######[](#dropcap)
"Yes, a lord of death and decay, a ruler of ruins and graves. No thanks. I'll stay with my keep."
Kommander Alexsandr Surov slapped the butt of his DP-23 Machine Rifle in emphasis, cocking back the bolt to chamber another round. The Cryxian warcaster hissed and spat venom from its iron fangs.
*"You are a fool then, Khadoran. My army numbers in the tens of thousands. I can blacken the very sky you fight under. To refuse is to write your death note."*
"A soldier of the Motherland is always ready to die in service to his nation and his Empress. You cannot frighten one who is prepared so. All the better, we will fight in the shade."
Lich Lord Scytherous, the grisly executioner of Turok the Dragonfather coiled his serpentine body as if to strike, the barbed stinger dripping corrosive acid from its pitted metal. A crude amalgamation of machine and man there was not a single part of him that was untouched, sacrificed in his drive for undead perfection. His chest was fused to a suit of armor, various pipes and tubes carrying numerous concoctions that glowed a sickly green or red. Claw like hands gripped the ancient cursed blade Eclipse as he stared at the Khadoran-born warcaster with eyes of burning balefire.
*"You shall make a powerful thrall then, and I shall feast on your soul as its screams in agony."*
"Do your worst, corpse-taker, and my soldiers and I shall do our best. Now go, I'm sure you have an army to gather."
The Lich Lord opened its snake-like mandibles wide, revealing the banks of black and corroded fangs.
*"Such a sight will be the last you ever see."*
"Words are worth their weight in gold- nothing.
--
Kommander Surov walked back from the parley, a grim smile on his lips. His various Kovniks and Kapitans waited for him, ready follow any order he might have.
"Well... he won't surrender."
The assembled Khadoran officers laughed at that. Kovnik Oleg Gorbovich, leader of Surov's Iron Fang Pikemen spoke up.
"What will you have us do, sir?"
Kommander Surov stare off at the cliffs behind them, the chalky soil loose and dry. A small gap in the otherwise unscalable wall held the main road through this part of Llael. The village they stood in was on the wrong side of the gap, its inhabitants long fled from the undead horde. Winter Guard and Assault Kommandos dug foxholes and other entrenchments in the vegetable gardens and dusty lanes, engineers strung great lengths of barbed wire between buildings, nailing boards across lower windows and sandbagging emplacements for field guns. Surov drew his naval dirk and traced a series of lines in the dirt.
"We will first fight them from the village, targeting their heaviest helljacks and bonejacks with the mortars and field guns. We will try to destroy as many mechanithralls and other creatures as possible. Once the position becomes untenable we will fall back to the gap, the winter guard scaling the cliffs from behind to fire down on the foe. The Iron Fangs, Man-o-Wars and Assault Kommandos will form a shield wall across the gap where their superior numbers will be less effective. This organized retreat will require discipline and order. Any man who falls back before the command is given will answer to me. Once we reach the gap there is one order above all: *Not one step back.* We fight to the last bullet, last blade and to the last man. Understood?"
"Yes, Kommander!"
"Good. I expect the attack to begin within the hour. May Menoth or Morrow watch over you."
| |
[WP] Two people are in a public place, one has had the best news of their life, the other has had the worst news of their life. Unbeknownst to them, they share the exact same news. | The restaurant is full. Reservations were required. A very stringent rule.
Wanda and Mark walked in and because he was easily the wealthiest man in Newport Beach they were treated with deference some one else would find cloying. Mark took it as his entitled right.
While the host attempted to seat them promptly...
Mark stopped and glad-handed his way to his table. He was very well known in the community and people wanted to be close to him, even though privately they thought he was a pompous ass.
They looked at Wanda curiously. And critically. She was spilling out of her short black dress. Her over bleached hair looked crispy. Her heavily made up face was beautiful. But hardened.
The restaurant host waited patiently while Mark made the slow walk to the reserved table. Uncaring and probably unaware that he was making the host wait.
Cindy and Thomas entered the foyer of the restaurant. Holding hands and constantly turning to the other to whisper something humorous.
Cindy's tinkling laugh was a perfect compliment to Tom's suppressed laughter. The hostess smiled and asked them to take a seat.
After 15 minutes of waiting Tom good humoredly asked the hostess how much longer it would be. She replied that there was just another slight delay. 10 more minutes she promised.
Cindy and Tom were content to wait. They found the perfect company in each other.
Meanwhile, Mark and Wanda sat silently while they ate their dinner. Not stopping for even the most banal of chitchat.
Most of the patrons gave them surreptitious looks. Especially at Wanda. A lot of eyebrows were raised. And looks exchanged at each table.
Tom and Cindy were finally seated. They ordered and only let go of each other's hand when their dinner arrived. She ordered water and he teased her about it. They continued to talk and laugh throughout their meal. Even exchanging food.
Wanda looked at Mark. Waited until she got his attention. She had just finished her third glass of wine.
Cindy looked a Tom with a smile in her eyes.
Across the restaurant the 2 women spoke to their companions.
"I'm pregnant"
2 weeks later. In the society page the announcement of Wanda's pregnancy was a hot topic. "She and her husband Mark Hutchford were already receiving baby gifts from friends and deliriously happy".
In the local news, in the same paper, it was reported that the death of Cindy Burnett, body found strangled in her car 2 weeks earlier, had finally had a lead. She was last seen with a man at an exclusive restaurant.
However, Thomas Lofton's wife said "He was home that night. With her and their 2 children". The investigation continues.
| The labor was long and hard but now it was over. She looked into her fiancé's eyes and was filled with joy. He'd make a great husband and a wonderful father.
He was resigned to do the right thing. If it weren't for the baby just brought into the world he would've left her 9 months ago.
The doctors voice cracks as he announces that it's a healthy baby boy. He quickly hands the black baby over the white couple before exiting the room. | |
[WP] Two people are in a public place, one has had the best news of their life, the other has had the worst news of their life. Unbeknownst to them, they share the exact same news. | A young student struts down the campus avenue. He appears to be close to breaking out in song and dance. With every action comes a bit of flair as he politely greets everyone walking by.
In his moment he completely misses another student storming towards him. They meet at a junction, where one group ahead of them is occupying most of the footpath. A chaotic scene of bags being dropped with their contents spilling onto the pavement.
"I'm sorry, I am so sorry" The young man insists as he proceeds to help her gather her belongings first.
She pauses, then breaks down crying as he scurries to catch paper flying off in the wind.
"Are you OK?, I am really sorry, I wasn't paying much attention."
He leans down to hand her the books and loose pieces of paper he managed to collect.
"It's fine...It's not you. I'm just having a bad day." She sputters as she slowly rearranges the books and papers he had just handed her.
"What's wrong, or is it just generally all wrong?" He queries tentatively.
"No, it's just.....It's just one of my favourite lecturers was supposedly in a car accident last night. I've only just heard about it, and I am trying to get to the office to find out more."
The young man quickly picks up a few of his books, missing a few things of his which has since flown away.
"Oh that's horrible, who was it if you don't mind me asking?"
"Ms Bowen."
"She does arts and philosophy doesn't she?"
They both stand up and start walking back onto campus.
"Yeah, she has to be one of my favourite lecturers. She helped me when I was having trouble adjusting to living so far away from my family when I first started here"
She increases her pace, as he keeps trying to catch up.
"I was supposed to have a test with her today until it was cancelled, I wasn't really ready for it, I guess this must be the reason." He adds gasping for breath.
They pause at a crossing, and he takes a deep breath.
"Do you mind if I come along with you?"
"Not at all" she answers as if it didn't really matter to her. Crossing while trying not to get in the way of campus traffic.
[At the teachers offices]
**Sorry guys I just realised I need to stop writing this or I am likely to draw this out until I realise it's 3am. Enjoyed the Prompt though, please be gentle with spelling and grammar issues.**
[Continued]
The office block was stark and silent. Nothing appeared to be moving much as she bee lined straight to the arts department door.
A few desperate raps, and she stands there tapping her foot nervously waiting for a response.
He takes a seat on a nearby bench as he asses the contents of his bag.
Minutes pass, along with a few exasperated sighs.
Then a teachers aid hurries toward the door the other two are waiting at.
"Any news of Miss Bowen" She barely says within a fraction of a second.
"I'm just getting the keys to room 3, a few students and teachers will be assembling there about it. You should probably come along."
The aid enters the office as the other two gather themselves outside.
"I know this doesn't seem like the right time, but my name is Aaron for future reference."
"I'm Leslie... You really don't have to be here if you don't want to. Thanks for tagging along though, I am sorry if it appears that I am ignoring you."
"It's fine, I figured I may as well join you seeing that I have nothing else planned due to that test being cancelled and all."
A comforting smile washes over her, as the teachers aid comes rushing out. Locks the door and hurries with them in tow towards the arts lecture rooms.
[At Room 3]
A group of about 50 people, students and teachers, file into a room quietly and politely, with only a few trying to find people they knew in the room to sit near.
A very low murmur rolls in as they all try to quietly aggregate what they know. Aaron and Leslie shuffle their way up to the front of the room and take their seats.
An elderly short haired head-of-department painfully walks in with a couple of her peers supporting her to the front of the room. The room goes silent.
She collects herself at the front of the room while she observes their faces become more mortified at the prospect of everything not being fine.
"This morning....On her way to work." She struggles to stay composed, but clears her throat and continues.
"Miss Bowen died in a car accident" The atmosphere in the room drops suddenly. As if gravity had suddenly increased. Young students discreetly bursting into tears on their friends shoulders. As Leslie just sinks into the table hiding her face as she cries.
"How did it happen?" a young man from the back asks.
Looking up, the head-of-department in utter disbelief answers. "A removal truck failed to stop at the lights in time, and she was pushed into oncoming traffic where a semi-trailer T-boned her into a set of traffic lights."
In a room stricken with grief, it only seems to get worse as they all struggle to belief what has happened.
Through the cycles of agony everyone appeared to be going through, she gets right to the point.
"I know some of you had a rather important exam today, which you've probably assumed to be cancelled. You are advised to go home and come back for your next classes as usual. We should have an idea of whether we can reschedule the exam or not by then, hopefully."
A slow migration of students leave the room still in shock of this news.
Leslie still has her face down on the table, seemingly exhausted from crying.
"For the rest of you, if you need to talk or just be around someone we are all here for support. Room 3 will be open all day, and there should be at least someone here to talk to about the matter. If you have any further problems don't hesitate to reach out. If you need time off school we can organise that if you need it."
Aaron stays in his seat as he very lightly tries to console Leslie.
"You don't have to be here" She mutters from her piled heap on the desk.
"Yeah well now I want to stay." he pulls her closer and gently holds her like many others grieving around them.
[End]
**I hope that is good enough for you, if you're wondering it's Leslie's worst day and Aaron's best. Be it the circumstances are shitty, and Leslie can probably end up realising that it was both the worst and best days of her life. Who knows, hopefully Aarons a nice guy, and this is just a nice story about how two people met.**
| The labor was long and hard but now it was over. She looked into her fiancé's eyes and was filled with joy. He'd make a great husband and a wonderful father.
He was resigned to do the right thing. If it weren't for the baby just brought into the world he would've left her 9 months ago.
The doctors voice cracks as he announces that it's a healthy baby boy. He quickly hands the black baby over the white couple before exiting the room. | |
[WP] Two people are in a public place, one has had the best news of their life, the other has had the worst news of their life. Unbeknownst to them, they share the exact same news. | Primly attired in her blue skirt and white silk blouse, the young brunette smiled as she stared at her brand new shoes. She absently pet the dog by her side.
"What a day," she thought to herself. "I can't believe how far I've come!"
Voices chattered around her, a small and constant drone of animated whispers. She couldn't quite make out what was being said, but she had a feeling that there was a sense of jubilation in the air. Moreover, she had a sneaking suspicion that she was the cause.
"The world just seems happy today!" she exclaimed to nobody. "What a simply marvelous place to have arrived at."
The shaggy black dog looked up at her expectantly, before resting it's head on its paws once more. They were both tired, you see, having traveled a great distance and suffered a whirlwind of events - but finally, things were looking up.
Just then, a pair of black boots strode by. Looking up, the young girl couldn't help but smile. "That's quite a costume," she mused, containing a giggle.
The boots were attached to a tall lady, dressed all in black. The older woman ignored the girl, looking off bleary-eyed into the distance. A small sob wracked her body.
"Why, whatever is the matter?" the girl exclaimed, hearing the sharp sniffle of the gloomy newcomer.
No reply.
"Come, come. Everything will be alright. Why, just think - perhaps you too can get a fine pair of shoes such as these..."
The girl's voice trailed off as she met the hard-eyed stare of the woman opposite her. There was nothing soft about the other, she realized.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend. I'm not very good at minding my own business." She bit her lip lightly to lend to her apology, a tactic that had doused many a fire before.
The woman in black shook her head, scoffing, and glanced down at the shoes in question. Her face paled, turning a bit green, as she looked back up at the young girl.
"Y-y... You!" she sputtered. "How could you?!"
"Me?" the young girl queried nervously.
"This is... Why I'll..." The woman in black snarled.
Throwing back her cloak, she revealed a long, sturdy broom handle. A loud cackle, encapsulating all of her rage and sorrow, issued forth.
"I'll get you for this," she said, mounting the broomstick. All the while, the girl looked at her as though she were mad.
Suddenly, the woman in black took flight, eliciting a gasp from the girl. "Now she understands," the witch thought, smiling grimly.
"I'll get you my pretty! And your little dog, too!" And with that, the black-clad woman disappeared into the sky, a red trail of smoke the only remnant of her presence.
"Oh, Toto," the girl said with a shiver. "We're not in Kansas anymore." | The labor was long and hard but now it was over. She looked into her fiancé's eyes and was filled with joy. He'd make a great husband and a wonderful father.
He was resigned to do the right thing. If it weren't for the baby just brought into the world he would've left her 9 months ago.
The doctors voice cracks as he announces that it's a healthy baby boy. He quickly hands the black baby over the white couple before exiting the room. | |
[WP] Two people are in a public place, one has had the best news of their life, the other has had the worst news of their life. Unbeknownst to them, they share the exact same news. | The king had enjoyed his day, after dinner he had the sage brought to his court past a long line of petitioners from the peasantry. The king's spokesman asked the sage to amuse the king by displaying his infinite wisdom. He asked the sage, "Are you so wise that you could make even the king sad and that peasant happy with one truth?" The sage replied, "Like all things, this too shall pass away."
The whole court became enlightened by seeing the single tear roll down the kings graven face. | It's what I assume is a busy night at one of the larger casinos. Technically, I'm here to make money counting cards, but as my traveling companion and fellow successful gambler reminds me, "it's Vegas, man!"
So I leave the blackjack table, fix my makeup, and spritz on some perfume, becoming the very picture of somebody you'd like to buy a drink for. (What can I say? Alcohol is expensive.)
A couple hours and several drinks later, I'm dancing, and an enthusiastic woman with a Midwestern accent knocks me to the ground. "Oh, I'm so sorry, honey," she slurs, clearly wasted. "I didn't mean to run into you like that." "Are you all right?" I reply dubiously.
Her response is loud, even compared to the boom of the bass. "I am DOING GREAT," she responds operatically, "BECAUSE I FINALLY GOT A DIVORCE!" She rumbas, or twerks, or *something*, off to knock over another innocent bystander, and I lose sight of her.
Later, I sit at the bar, smoothing disheveled hair and hoping I don't smell like the sweat of strangers. Jack made a few thousand tonight, but I'm not ready to sleep yet, so I debate ordering another drink when a man with a gray suit and dark circles under his eyes does so for me.
He doesn't initiate conversation, just stares ahead, so I politely ask "What brings you to Vegas, then?" He replies "I'm here to get drunk" flatly, with the intonation of a man on death row. "I'm sorry." "Don't feel sorry for me, sweetheart. It was my own damn fault... wife left me. Thought she was the one. Apparently not." | |
[WP] Two people are in a public place, one has had the best news of their life, the other has had the worst news of their life. Unbeknownst to them, they share the exact same news. | As the old man stepped out of the hospital, he pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and walked over to the bench. He slumped down into the seat, clearly devastated. He clipped the end of his cigar and reached for his matchbox. He pulled out the match, struck it, and held it up.
Just then an SUV screeched into the parking lot and stopped between two spaces. The bass of loud rap music cut off as a young black man jumped out.
The old man, staring, stunned by the display happening before him, muttered *God damn it!* as the match burned down to his fingertips.
The driver jogged by him as he stared, but stopped and turned back.
*Hey, man. You think you could spare another one of those?* He said.
*I guess so.* He said, pulling the other stogie out of his pocket. *My night is ruined anyway.*
*Thanks, man. My name is Marcus. Nice to meet you.*
*You too, I guess. I'm Larry.*
*If it makes you feel any better, I'm having a great night.* Marcus said. Whats so bad about your night?*
*Well to be honest...* Larry sighed. *My daughter Kelly was just in there in the delivery room and it turns out my grandchild is bla-*
*Hold up!* Marcus interrupted. *Kelly already had the baby!?* | It's what I assume is a busy night at one of the larger casinos. Technically, I'm here to make money counting cards, but as my traveling companion and fellow successful gambler reminds me, "it's Vegas, man!"
So I leave the blackjack table, fix my makeup, and spritz on some perfume, becoming the very picture of somebody you'd like to buy a drink for. (What can I say? Alcohol is expensive.)
A couple hours and several drinks later, I'm dancing, and an enthusiastic woman with a Midwestern accent knocks me to the ground. "Oh, I'm so sorry, honey," she slurs, clearly wasted. "I didn't mean to run into you like that." "Are you all right?" I reply dubiously.
Her response is loud, even compared to the boom of the bass. "I am DOING GREAT," she responds operatically, "BECAUSE I FINALLY GOT A DIVORCE!" She rumbas, or twerks, or *something*, off to knock over another innocent bystander, and I lose sight of her.
Later, I sit at the bar, smoothing disheveled hair and hoping I don't smell like the sweat of strangers. Jack made a few thousand tonight, but I'm not ready to sleep yet, so I debate ordering another drink when a man with a gray suit and dark circles under his eyes does so for me.
He doesn't initiate conversation, just stares ahead, so I politely ask "What brings you to Vegas, then?" He replies "I'm here to get drunk" flatly, with the intonation of a man on death row. "I'm sorry." "Don't feel sorry for me, sweetheart. It was my own damn fault... wife left me. Thought she was the one. Apparently not." | |
[WP] Two people are in a public place, one has had the best news of their life, the other has had the worst news of their life. Unbeknownst to them, they share the exact same news. | As the old man stepped out of the hospital, he pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and walked over to the bench. He slumped down into the seat, clearly devastated. He clipped the end of his cigar and reached for his matchbox. He pulled out the match, struck it, and held it up.
Just then an SUV screeched into the parking lot and stopped between two spaces. The bass of loud rap music cut off as a young black man jumped out.
The old man, staring, stunned by the display happening before him, muttered *God damn it!* as the match burned down to his fingertips.
The driver jogged by him as he stared, but stopped and turned back.
*Hey, man. You think you could spare another one of those?* He said.
*I guess so.* He said, pulling the other stogie out of his pocket. *My night is ruined anyway.*
*Thanks, man. My name is Marcus. Nice to meet you.*
*You too, I guess. I'm Larry.*
*If it makes you feel any better, I'm having a great night.* Marcus said. Whats so bad about your night?*
*Well to be honest...* Larry sighed. *My daughter Kelly was just in there in the delivery room and it turns out my grandchild is bla-*
*Hold up!* Marcus interrupted. *Kelly already had the baby!?* | Tom puffed away on his last cigarette. He promised himself this would be the last one. It had to be the last one, for himself and for his wife and new child. 'A kid,' he thought. 'Me a dad. Who would have thought... Time for a change. A good change.' He smiled at the thought.
Then a heavy hand came down on his shoulder a little painfully. "TOM!" Marco belted out in his always over the top positive way. Tom smiled and crushed his last cigarette ever under his heel. "Let's catch a bench up there and people watch." Marco said, pointing up to the main thoroughfare of the park. "Man! You must have been lost in thought. That is the first time I've ever managed to sneak up on you."
Tom grinned big at his friend grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling him across to give him a noogie. "Hey, hey! Not the hair," his friend protested, pulling away and quickly fixing his well maintained mane.
They walked toward the benches, exchanging tidbits about the past week of work and what next week might bring. They picked people in the crowd and played "name that type" until they finally landed at their bench.
"Definitely in a bad relationship. He's so whipped. Those skinny jeans long after they've gone out of fashion, plus he's ten years too old for that style. Definitely a girlfriend has been dressing him." Marco laughed. "So tell me news man, tell me news!" He pumped his eyebrows up twice for emphasis.
"Okay. Okay." Tom joked. "Melanie just told me this morning. She's pregnant."
"Oh ooooh... look at you! Still the virile man at your age!"
"What's your excuse old timer!" Tom shot back.
"Ah, well. Just hadn't found the right woman until recently." Marco sat back against the bench and stretched out, head high looking at the clouds. "But now everything is going to be different."
"Really? So you're taking it to the next level huh?" Tom asked.
"Yeah. She's done with her husband even gave me the go ahead last night to 'serve the papers'."
Tom just looked at his friend in shock. "Seriously? You're gonna do the husband?"
Marco turned to face Tom. "I already did, Tom. You just don't realize it yet," and Marco looked at Tom and then down to the poison spiked ring on his own hand and then back to Tom just as Tom looked back up at him in recognition. "Sorry man," Marco shrugged, "I'm in love. Plus she just couldn't take snuggling up to someone who smells like an ashtray."
Tom just sat, looking out at the crowd, still, as Marco stretched back out to gloat. Then came a little chuckle. "He, he" Tom squeaked out. Then gradually it became more raucous. Marco just sat in place, arms outstretched smiling.
"You know I knew about you guys from the start," Tom said. "At first I just let it go. I mean you and I have been friends a long time. I knew your game. Plus you kept her busy and I could get more work in, build up a little more credibility, move up in the ranks."
Marco continued to sit seemingly oblivious to Tom's words.
"Then this morning she finally came clean. She came clean with it all Marco." Marco still just sat there smiling as Tom looked down at his own hand and the poison spike on his own ring. He looked back up at Marco to see his eyes no longer smiling, but fearful, a tear just at the edge. "Today is the best day of my life buddy and you gave that to me. It turned out that my wife really did love me and I might never have known how deeply until you gave her that little nudge last night."
Marco sat still in the same position as Tom smiled at him. "Don't worry. I didn't kill you. We're still friends after all. But I am mad at you. So I'll probably leave you in this state for a few years, give us a little cooling off time."
Tom stood up and walked around to the back of the bench, rested his hand on Marco's shoulder, and looked down into his eyes. "I'm sorry that things didn't work out between you and your girlfriend. I'll catch you later." | |
[WP] Two people are in a public place, one has had the best news of their life, the other has had the worst news of their life. Unbeknownst to them, they share the exact same news. | As the old man stepped out of the hospital, he pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and walked over to the bench. He slumped down into the seat, clearly devastated. He clipped the end of his cigar and reached for his matchbox. He pulled out the match, struck it, and held it up.
Just then an SUV screeched into the parking lot and stopped between two spaces. The bass of loud rap music cut off as a young black man jumped out.
The old man, staring, stunned by the display happening before him, muttered *God damn it!* as the match burned down to his fingertips.
The driver jogged by him as he stared, but stopped and turned back.
*Hey, man. You think you could spare another one of those?* He said.
*I guess so.* He said, pulling the other stogie out of his pocket. *My night is ruined anyway.*
*Thanks, man. My name is Marcus. Nice to meet you.*
*You too, I guess. I'm Larry.*
*If it makes you feel any better, I'm having a great night.* Marcus said. Whats so bad about your night?*
*Well to be honest...* Larry sighed. *My daughter Kelly was just in there in the delivery room and it turns out my grandchild is bla-*
*Hold up!* Marcus interrupted. *Kelly already had the baby!?* | The king had enjoyed his day, after dinner he had the sage brought to his court past a long line of petitioners from the peasantry. The king's spokesman asked the sage to amuse the king by displaying his infinite wisdom. He asked the sage, "Are you so wise that you could make even the king sad and that peasant happy with one truth?" The sage replied, "Like all things, this too shall pass away."
The whole court became enlightened by seeing the single tear roll down the kings graven face. | |
[WP] Two people are in a public place, one has had the best news of their life, the other has had the worst news of their life. Unbeknownst to them, they share the exact same news. | Anna put down the phone, tears streaming down her face as she sat in the corner of her favorite coffee shop. She looked up just as Casey put down her phone after a quick text, a large smile plastered on her face.
"I have to go to the hospit-"
"What! Why!?"
"Rob had a car cras-"
"They found me a donor, just an hour ago!"
"and died..just a ho-"
"Oh."
| The twenty three year old wife ran into the living room where her husband was watching TV.
"I'm pregnant!" She said. | |
[WP] Two people are in a public place, one has had the best news of their life, the other has had the worst news of their life. Unbeknownst to them, they share the exact same news. |
The Sister | The Brother
:---|:---
Today is the day | Today is the day
Today they are going to announce the verdict. | Today they are going to announce the verdict.
Antsy and anxious, I can't just sit at home. I head to the bar. | I've been on a bender for the past 2 weeks of deliberation.
The case has been the talk of the town, and CNN has displaced sports on all the TVs for the past week or so. | All my money went to his defense, but the barkeep is a friend. About the only one I have left.
Despite being so close to the case, I've been able to keep a low profile so far. 3 PM on a Tuesday, so the place is pretty empty any way. There's a pretty beat up looking guy at the other end of the bar. | I don't know how I've kept out of the papers and away from the paparazzi. The media circus has been all over this one. The bar's dead quiet. Except for a pretty girl at the other end of the bar, the kind that you don't often see in places like this.
I order a beer, tip the barman five dollars. I'm feeling good today, I'm feeling good about the verdict. | The barman gives me yet another beer on the house. I know he sympathizes, but I know he can't show it.
My sister was killed some 6 months ago. Some sick fuck kidnapped her, raped her, and scattered pieces of her body over a three mile stretch of interstate. The police found this poor schlub. Some creepy weirdo, couldn't account for where he was that night. Witness saw him around my sisters house the night she disappeared. He didn't confess. The fucker keeps pleading his innocence. I don't believe him for a second. | Some woman was killed 6 months ago. She was kidnapped, raped, and her body mutilated. I don't know how it happened, but the dumb-ass cops arrest my brother. Yeah, he's a little weird, but not this kind of weird. He didn't lawyer right away, that fucked him over good. Most of their case hinged on some idiot neighbor eyewitness, the rest is circumstantial bullshit and scare tactics. He says he's innocent, I know he is.
The TV switches to the courthouse steps. Reporter gives a lead in, and it cuts into the courtroom. The foreman of the Jury is at the microphone. | Bleary eyed I realize the TV is on the courthouse steps. I guess this is it. Some bimbo is summarizing the case like everyone hasn't been paying attention for the last 6 weeks. They cut to the foreman.
“We the Jury find the defendant guilty on all counts. Our decision is unanimous.” | “We the Jury find the defendant guilty on all counts. Our decision is unanimous.”
The judge speaks up.| It's the fat dumb fuck judge's turn.
“You have been found guilty by a jury of your peers. Due to the heinous nature of the crime, I have no choice but to sentence you to death by lethal injection.” | “You have been found guilty by a jury of your peers. Due to the heinous nature of the crime, I have no choice but to sentence you to death by lethal injection.”
This is justice.| Is this justice?
| The twenty three year old wife ran into the living room where her husband was watching TV.
"I'm pregnant!" She said. | |
[WP] Two people are in a public place, one has had the best news of their life, the other has had the worst news of their life. Unbeknownst to them, they share the exact same news. |
The Sister | The Brother
:---|:---
Today is the day | Today is the day
Today they are going to announce the verdict. | Today they are going to announce the verdict.
Antsy and anxious, I can't just sit at home. I head to the bar. | I've been on a bender for the past 2 weeks of deliberation.
The case has been the talk of the town, and CNN has displaced sports on all the TVs for the past week or so. | All my money went to his defense, but the barkeep is a friend. About the only one I have left.
Despite being so close to the case, I've been able to keep a low profile so far. 3 PM on a Tuesday, so the place is pretty empty any way. There's a pretty beat up looking guy at the other end of the bar. | I don't know how I've kept out of the papers and away from the paparazzi. The media circus has been all over this one. The bar's dead quiet. Except for a pretty girl at the other end of the bar, the kind that you don't often see in places like this.
I order a beer, tip the barman five dollars. I'm feeling good today, I'm feeling good about the verdict. | The barman gives me yet another beer on the house. I know he sympathizes, but I know he can't show it.
My sister was killed some 6 months ago. Some sick fuck kidnapped her, raped her, and scattered pieces of her body over a three mile stretch of interstate. The police found this poor schlub. Some creepy weirdo, couldn't account for where he was that night. Witness saw him around my sisters house the night she disappeared. He didn't confess. The fucker keeps pleading his innocence. I don't believe him for a second. | Some woman was killed 6 months ago. She was kidnapped, raped, and her body mutilated. I don't know how it happened, but the dumb-ass cops arrest my brother. Yeah, he's a little weird, but not this kind of weird. He didn't lawyer right away, that fucked him over good. Most of their case hinged on some idiot neighbor eyewitness, the rest is circumstantial bullshit and scare tactics. He says he's innocent, I know he is.
The TV switches to the courthouse steps. Reporter gives a lead in, and it cuts into the courtroom. The foreman of the Jury is at the microphone. | Bleary eyed I realize the TV is on the courthouse steps. I guess this is it. Some bimbo is summarizing the case like everyone hasn't been paying attention for the last 6 weeks. They cut to the foreman.
“We the Jury find the defendant guilty on all counts. Our decision is unanimous.” | “We the Jury find the defendant guilty on all counts. Our decision is unanimous.”
The judge speaks up.| It's the fat dumb fuck judge's turn.
“You have been found guilty by a jury of your peers. Due to the heinous nature of the crime, I have no choice but to sentence you to death by lethal injection.” | “You have been found guilty by a jury of your peers. Due to the heinous nature of the crime, I have no choice but to sentence you to death by lethal injection.”
This is justice.| Is this justice?
| Anna put down the phone, tears streaming down her face as she sat in the corner of her favorite coffee shop. She looked up just as Casey put down her phone after a quick text, a large smile plastered on her face.
"I have to go to the hospit-"
"What! Why!?"
"Rob had a car cras-"
"They found me a donor, just an hour ago!"
"and died..just a ho-"
"Oh."
| |
It can be whatever empire you like, made up or real. | [WP] You have just inherited your kingdom's throne, however due to a technicality you must share it with your annoying little sister/brother. | "It's *my* turn to rule, you're hogging it!" Annabel shouted, stomping her feet.
Timothy sighed, tiredly scolding his younger sister. She hardly batted an eye when Father passed, and was delighted to be informed that due to a technicality in the transcripts the heir to throne was not just the Kings first born son, but first born son *and* daughter. Everyone generally agrees that Timothy is king, however Annabel *technically* also has absolute rule. "You can't just...hog rule." Timothy tried to explain.
"But *you* go to all the council meetings, you are making all the rules!" Annabel continued to shout. She had the piercing, powerful voice of a spoiled thirteen year old girl who never bothered to learn the ins and outs of the Kingdom. Now that she had control of it, she didn't see much need to try. It was all a game to her, despite Timothy's attempts to educate her.
"You don't like the council meetings! Last time you went you were begging it to be done with." Timothy stated, trying not to raise his voice. Attempting to compete in the shouting match only ever escalated his sister into an even more feverish tantrum. "You nearly had the Kingdom's Treasurer executed."
Annabel rolled her eyes, her coils of golden hair bouncing as she tossed her head to the side, "well he would just go on, and on about bags of grain. And chickens, and blah, blah, blah." with her hand she feigned a mouth blabbering.
"Those are important things to manage. That's what leaders do. If we do not then our people starve." Timothy argued.
"So?"
"So...What do you mean so?" Timothy's eye twitched, he was losing his temper. "If there are no *people* then we have no *kingdom*."
"Don't talk at me like that." Annabel hissed, stomping her foot.
"Like what?" Timothy asked.
"Like I'm an idiot. I *know* what a Kingdom is."
"Well you are an idiot!" Timothy shouted. He regretted it as soon as he did it. There were only one of two ways this would play out. One, she would go off in a rage, likely equating to the end of some jesters poor life. Or two. Annabel's eyes widened, her lip trembled, and she started to cry. Timothy dropped his face into his hands. She always did this, especially when Father was still alive. Father could not help but appease Annabel with whatever she wanted when she bawled her eyes out like this.
"Fine! Fine what do you want?!" Timothy questioned over the loud sobs.
Annabel sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand, "I want to rule."
"Rule. Fine, rule what? I try to take you to meetings and you either complain, or request ridiculous or impossible things."
"Like what?" She asked.
"Like...Like wanting to go to war with the Nelgerians over their sheep herds." Timothy said, planting his index finger into his palm.
"So?"
"The Nelgerians don't even have an army."
"Well then it would have been an easy war." Annabel proclaimed, folding her arms over her chest. "And then we'd have free sheep."
"Sure, but no one to tend the sheep, and another hundred thousand people to control against their will. Don't you understand that we benefit mutually from our arrangement?"
Annabel scoffed and muttered under her breath.
Timothy pinched the bridge of his nose, "Tell you what. You can rule...You can rule the castle. Order all the workers around, manage the gardens and what not."
"I can?" She asked hopefully, her eyes twinkling.
"Sure. Why not. Just don't execute anyone. Not unless they break the law."
"Disobeying me is against the law." She said.
"Annabel I mean it."
"Fine! Fine!" Annabel sighed, throwing her hands in the air.
*Later that week Timothy had gone and returned from an important political adventure*
Timothy led his horse into the gates, the smell of pastry wafting pleasantly into his nostrils. The tapestry had all been replaced with vibrant pinks and purples, his eyes widened as they fell on one of the stable masters shuffling towards him in a dirty white dress.
"My lord." The man said meekly as he took the reigns from Timothy.
"Benjamen, what on earth are you wearing?" Timothy asked.
"It-It is required by the Queen." Benjamen spoke softly, nearly a whisper.
Timothy stormed off towards the great hall. When he entered he found the feast table covered with rich, and sometimes lavish cakes. His mind spun at the cost, in grain alone- he shook his head. All of the family colors had been replaced, so many tapestries, so much linen and cloth. "Annabel?" He shouted.
"Yes brother?" He heard her voice echo into the hall. She soon followed it.
Timothy scoffed, she wore a new and expensive looking dress. "What have you done with the castle?"
"Uh, I improved it. You know, ruling it." She said matter-of-factually.
Timothy pointed towards the cakes, "There's a winters worth of grain, and gold, sitting on the great table decaying and untouched. Why hasn't this been cleaned? Or at least handed out so that it does not go to waste!"
"Give people *my* cake?" She asked.
~ ~ ~ ~
Lunch break, not sure where to go with it. | He was late again.
He was always late.
Stanley was seated in the conference room surrounded by a dozen of the most prestigious and impressive people in the kingdom. These people would make or break his reign. They had wealth, they had power, and they had armies to back it up. Any one of them could decide at any moment that they were sick of this nonsense and rise up to try to take the crown for themselves. It would only take one missed step, one insult too far, one irritation too many.
Reynold seemed more than happy to give it to them.
Was it really too much to ask of his energetic brother to show up on time for one meeting a week? Stanley cleared his throat. “Just a bit longer and we’ll begin, I’m terribly sorry for the delay.”
Where had he gone wrong? Why had their brother not trusted Stanley to rule the kingdom on his own? He’d always done everything that had been asked of him and more. Yet after his brother’s unexpected death, the vault had been searched and his will had been made plain.
I, King Rodney of the house Bartlett, first of his name, king of the handles, the crowbars, and the second folks, lord of the sebum kingdom and protector of the film, do name both my brothers Stanley and Reynold as my heirs, to rule the kingdoms together, side-by-side. It is my wish that they should together maintain the king’s piece of pie and uphold the king’s bust lice. I charge both my brothers with the protection of the weak and innocent upon my death. This is my decree in the sight of whomever is looking in my general direction.
Stanley had tried to fight the decree on the grounds that his brother was clearly touched in the head. Bust lice indeed. It had been ruled that King Rodney was just having a bit of fun with the wording and that his intent had been clear.
Stanley did not have time for fun with wording. He had a kingdom to run, and his idiot brother didn’t seem to care.
A loud noise could be heard from down the hall. For a moment, Stanley thought he’d ground his teeth so hard that it had echoed throughout the entire castle, but no. He couldn’t be so lucky.
Reynold burst into the room red-faced and grinning, his hair windswept. He was riding on a Segway.
“Hey guyyyyyyys,” Reynold cried out. He drove his absurd little wheeled cart in circles a few times before heading toward his customary seat.
“Do a barrel roll!” shouted one of the lords.
Reynold was happy to oblige. He tumbled from his ridiculous vehicle, rolled across the floor and popped back up with a grin, his arms spread open and reaching upward. “Ta-da!”
This time, the grinding noise Stanley heard really was his teeth.
The meeting was delayed for several more minutes while Reynold fussed with his clothing. “I’ll need to have a serious talk with my dry cleaner,” he announced.
The most frustrating thing of all was the way they hung onto his every word. Stanley could be talking about the downfall of the world while Reynold chattered about an unusual nose hair he’d found, and the entire kingdom would fawn over themselves to give him the best pair of nose clippers money could buy.
Stanley cleared his throat again. “It’s time we were getting down to business,” he called.
“Yes, business!” Reynold agreed, finally taking his seat. “Who wants ice cream?”
Ice cream? What in the actual hell was his brother on about now?
Ding-ding! Ding-ding! Stanley could hear the faint sounds of an ice cream truck in the distance.
“I spoke to the man who drives the route nearby,” Reynold explained proudly. “He was most agreeable to changing his route to drive right past here during our little gatherings.”
“Meetings!” Stanley bellowed. “Serious discussions about the future of the kingdom we rule! Is it too much to ask for you to show up on time, by the way?”
All eyes were on Stanley for once, and he found he didn’t know what to do once he had their attention. He squirmed slightly. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have some ice cream while we have those discussions,” he allowed.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than all of his esteemed council was on their feet, racing down the hallway trying to get to the ice cream truck first. Reynold was hot on their heels, having re-mounted his Segway. “Last one there is a rotten egg!” he called.
“They’ll be back,” Stanley muttered stiffly. |
[WP] You are a tentacle monster that never made it in the porn industry. Today you're applying for a normal 9-5 job. | Bernie sighed, shuffling his papers. Odd clients came with the Pro Bono territory, but this...
"Er, did you want to hear my side of the story?" gurgled his *client*, handcuffs rattling as his appendages wriggled on the table.
"Where the hell did cops even *find* a pair of cuffs like those?" muttered Bernie under his breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing." Bernie cleared his throat, then pulled out a notepad and clicked his pen. "Okay, Mister... uh, I'm sorry, how do you pronounce this?"
"Mister B. is fine, but you can call me Steve."
"Right. Steve. Why don't we start from the top. You're an adult entertainer?"
"Eh, not quite," said Steve, shaking what looked to be his head. "I mean, I *tried.* I performed in a couple scenes, you know? But I never made it big- I mean, I never earned enough to cover my expenses, so I've been searching more normal job opportunities with a steadier income."
Bernie nodded, already aware of this part of the story. "And that's why you were at Downtown Highschool?"
"I saw that they were looking for a Gym Teacher." Steve shrugged. "I know a thing or two about staying in shape. How hard can it be anyway? Just have the kids run a few laps, and that's that."
"So you'd think," said Bernie, scribbling down a note. "Of course, it wasn't just that, was it?"
Steve gulped. "Well, now that you mention it..."
Bernie pulled a sheet from his stack, and placed it in front of Steve. "Is this the part where you tell me this photo isn't what it looks like?"
Steve eyed the paper. On it was a still from a security camera of his tentacles manhandling a girl while tearing off her track outfit. "This isn't what it looks like," Steve mumbled.
Bernie rolled his eyes. "I'm sure. Why don't you tell me *exactly* what happened?"
Steve sighed. "Okay. Here it goes. So I go in, say 'Hi' to the hiring staffer, give my pitch, you know how it goes."
Bernie nodded. "Go on."
"So things were going good. Of course, my job history came up in the background check, but the interviewer said the budget was too tight for the school to be picky, so I was pretty much tapped if my casting- er, demonstration went well." Steve looked rather proud of himself, despite the situation.
Bernie cleared his throat loudly. He didn't have time for this. "You were saying?"
Steve shook himself, his handcuffs jangling loudly. "Oh, right. Uh, yeah, the demo. So the Interviewer had me come back in a couple days to teach a class some basic cardio. No big deal, literally just laps. *Could not be easier.*" Steve slapped a tentacle on the table, and Bernie realized he was angry. "You don't know just how *stupid* these kids can be," Steve growled.
Bernie sat a little straighter, and glanced quickly at the camera in the room's corner. Red light was still on.
"So the kids were running," Steve continued, "when the *janitor* started mopping. Unbelievable, you'd think he'd take a hint that now wasn't a good time, but *no,* it had to be then. Whatever, just have the kids not run in a mop bucket. Again. Simple. Except it's not!"
Bernie nodded. "Kid ran into the mop bucket."
"Of course she did!" Steve shouted. "Too busy yaking to notice a *big yellow bucket* right in front of her. Fell headfirst into it."
Bernie nodded. The police report did mention something about a mop bucket, but that doesn't explain the photo. "So this picture..."
Steve slumped in his chair, his body oozing over the sides. "Now see, whatever chemical janitors use to mop the floor with is toxic to me. Like an acid. It melts my skin and guts. That's actually how my cousin Jimmy died-"
"Stay focused."
"Right. Sorry. Anyway, that stuff's deadly, and this student just fell headfirst right into it! So I did the only sensible thing: lift her out and get her out of those clothes. Nearly lost a tentacle for that!"
Bernie looked at his client's appendages. Some of them were indeed bandaged, and others looked scarred. "You didn't know humans don't melt in cleaner fluid?"
"Nope, not at the time. Really didn't hang out with humans except during shoots at my old job, and the subject never really came up."
"Shocking."
"Hey, did *you* know how toxic cleaner fluid is to me before we met?" Steve glared at Bernie. "I didn't think so. Anyway, I've since learned a few things about the differences in our biologies, thank you much."
Bernie nodded, jotting down more notes on his paper. "I'm sorry to have offended you, Steve," he said mechanically.
"That's quite alright, Bernie." Steve took a calming breath, then leaned forward over the table. "Look, dude, I can't handle prison. I know it looks like I can tear a person apart from the inside, but I'm a lover, not a fighter. I *need* you to get me out of this. I swear I'm not a predator."
Bernie took another look at the security photo. It didn't say a thousand words, only three: twenty-five to life. His track record really didn't need another loss-
"Oh shit dude, you don't think we can fight this!" Steve wailed. "Come on man, say something! I got my whole life ahead of me, I can't have any of this on my record!" Water started forming on his skin, soaking the table and floor.
It's the crying that got him. Bernie could never say 'no' to a client in tears. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna talk to the school district and the girl's parents. See if we can't settle outside of court quietly. If that doesn't work, we'll see if the jury will believe your story about the acid."
"It's the truth, man!" said Steve.
"I know, but they don't. We might have to do a live performance, if catch my drift."
Steve narrowed his eyes for a few moments, then nodded in understanding. "If it keeps me out of prison, I'll do anything. Swim in a whole tank of that acid stuff if I have to."
Bernie collected his papers, then stood out of his chair. Normally, he'd shake his client's hand, but these were unusual circumstances. "I'll get started on this, in the meantime, you hang tight. We'll fight this to the bitter end."
Steve rose too, and placed a slimy tentacle on Bernie's shoulder. "Thank you, Bernie. This means the world to me."
Bernie, then walked away, wondering whether the slime would come off at the cleaners. | His failure to make it in the porn industry was inevitable. Tentacles with an extremely long awkward length in comparison to his body, terrible chemistry with the other actors, humongous googly eyes that lured over everything, and he had the same voice as Danny DeVito.
"I just couldn't do it" one porn actress tells me. "I just didn't feel like I was being sexually touch by a real tentacle monster you know? It just felt like I was having sex with just a guy in an octopus costume."
His poor soul, I mean he grew up wanting to be in the porn industry. Both his father and his mother are undoubtedly legends when it comes to adult movies involving tentacle monsters. However he was just impervious to developing into a real star. Now he's just like the rest of us. Once you realize that your dreams are out of reach, you accept it and move on with your life. You may get married, get a regular job, have some little shits, lose in poker to your buddies up the street, and all those necessities of living an average life.
Today is the day this particular tentacle monster accepts his reality, his destiny that he can no longer deny. He must get a job at Walmart to help maintain his bills, a job will keep him busy after all. He knows he will be judged when he walks in, he's an awkward 8 legged tentacle monster for fucks sake. 8 legged tentacle monsters don't belong in Walmart stocking selves or cashing in annoying peoples money into the greasy cashier, they belong in a dark foggy swamp fingering some helpless porn star who just happens to be wandering by. That's besides the point though, he tries not to think about these negative trances. He just asks to get the job. Ignoring the thought that despite his 8 long tentacles, his dreams lie far from his reach. | |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | The birth of the third son would prove difficult during the hurricane.
As a baby, sickness engulfed his first year of life, struggling but strong the baby persevered.
Parents, struggling with a fifth mouth to feed, wander the lands for new shelter, buried by a severe winter, they knew it would only be temporary.
South, toward warmer climate and new company, met with hardship only discussed in more recent times the young son became social and started to grow.
Prospering in the new land, yet still clinging to his mother, the youth would start to be sensitive and not interact with the other male youths.
A decision to move back north, closer to family was decided, against the boys wishes, the northern children would prove to be a challenge for the years to come, acceptance not met and difficulties surging through his life.
Death of a matriarch causes much grief and seclusion from the outside world and leads the boy further from social acceptance.
Family gatherings and large growth spurts allow the boy much change and confidence.
A new arrival, a young baby girl shows much difficulty to acceot, fear of losing his mothers love pushes the boy into a dark place for much of his youth.
Turning to food for more than nourishment and ending all social interaction causes the boy much pain but this is his choosing.
Many years pass as the boy becomes a young man, he is picked on by the others in his class, he is pushed further into a hateful place till he feels he can not take it anymore.
Life returns but with little strength for the young man, he continues to grow much larger and taller than the other youths but can not find a way to make it an advantage...(to be continued when i finish work, i'm new to writing) | She smiled so often. I loved how she was always happy. Sometimes there were rough patches. It took a long time for me to walk. She tried her best to teach me. I just wished she would get over him. I moved to my grandpa's place. School here is is nice. Everybody is so different. I learned a lo of things. I have come to visit you mother. Then back to school. I feel no older than i was last year...
Will continue... | |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | I was born.
I turned five, don't remember much from before.
I didn't remember who he was, but I didn't like the man who played tickle with me.
Mom was crying, didn't stop crying when we visited the man in white.
I feel weird, but I want to go out to play.
The man I didn't like came to visit and I still don't like him.
The man in white is a doctor, he's crying a lot, saying for me.
I can't move out of the bed, mother said something about a tumor.
I'm about to die, but I admit that the man I never liked, my step-father touched me inappropriately.
I struggle on, trying to make the best of a bad situation, needles and all.
My step-father is prosecuted and sent to jail for life, and now my eyes lay down forever. | She smiled so often. I loved how she was always happy. Sometimes there were rough patches. It took a long time for me to walk. She tried her best to teach me. I just wished she would get over him. I moved to my grandpa's place. School here is is nice. Everybody is so different. I learned a lo of things. I have come to visit you mother. Then back to school. I feel no older than i was last year...
Will continue... | |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | She is small. She moves with more strength each passing year. Her voice is no longer only a tool for begging. She has a voice. A fresh creature, but stronger, still.
She had a voice. Trust is an illusion. This is pain. This is what Daddy issues are made of. This will all make sense one day. (That is a lie.)
The next ten years will be a blur. My teeth are crooked. My lips are thin. My breasts are small.
My. My, my, my. I've found my voice. I'm a handful, but I'm free.
I'm the first in my family to graduate college. My best friend overdosed. I ran away to Europe.
What now?
[it's not very good, but damn if it doesn't FEEL good to write anything at all when you've been in a deep slump]
| She smiled so often. I loved how she was always happy. Sometimes there were rough patches. It took a long time for me to walk. She tried her best to teach me. I just wished she would get over him. I moved to my grandpa's place. School here is is nice. Everybody is so different. I learned a lo of things. I have come to visit you mother. Then back to school. I feel no older than i was last year...
Will continue... | |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | I was born in 1983, which as good a year as any for that to happen. The next little while is spent learning to walk and talk, the usual stuff. My world changes when my little sister is born, and I wasn't too thrilled about it.
Playing with the neighbours is my life - I meet a french-speaking little boy who will become a friend for life. But I suffer my first real loss when my first best friend moves away for terrible reasons I couldn't understand at that age. I develop a
love of learning - I can name all the countries on a globe. I can name all the dinosaurs. And, I meet a new best friend who wiil be by my side all through school.
A pack of cards inspires me to get really, really into baseball. My team wins the World Series. They win it again. Baseball gets locked out and that childhood wonder - or obsession - is crushed for good.
I dive into geekhood by getting glasses and taking up Magic. Not long after, I'm showing early leadership skills by running tournaments for my friends. Building on this hobby, I take up miniatures painting. Two weeks without power due to an ice storm gives me the time to learn role playing, and my gaming hobby is in full gear.
Sports are a part of my life, and I taste real success for the first time when my curling team makes provincials. I get my first job as a farmhand, but it doesn't last long. For the first time I make a school team, when I find out I'm really good at throwing an ultimate disc.
My first feeling of being grown up is when I travel overseas, paid entirely by myself. I finally get my first date. Things are looking great as as I start my career in high tech.
Then, my heart gets broken, but fortunately I have some new pet rabbits to love instead, and they keep me happy. By travelling to Peru with my sister, for the first time, I start building adult relationships with my family. Not long after I get my first permanent job and my first car. I start building my adult social life by getting back into ultimate in a big way. I wreck that first car, it's a total write-off, and I lose one my my bunnies.
Everything changes when I meet the woman who will be my wife and life is bliss. I get the chance travel to Tanzania with my Dad and we climb Kilimanjaro together, an experience I'll never forget. I prove my leadership skills and I get promoted to
management.
Now engaged, I buy a house in a wonderful neighbourhood with my fiancee, but lose my other rabbit. Soon after we officially tie the knot. Life is often good, and sometimes bad, but I can't wait to see how it turns out! | She smiled so often. I loved how she was always happy. Sometimes there were rough patches. It took a long time for me to walk. She tried her best to teach me. I just wished she would get over him. I moved to my grandpa's place. School here is is nice. Everybody is so different. I learned a lo of things. I have come to visit you mother. Then back to school. I feel no older than i was last year...
Will continue... | |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | In the winter of 1980, my anxious mother gives birth to me, a baby girl. I am a shy and careful toddler who talks early and walks late. My mother is pregnant again. The day my brother is born, my grandmother takes me to the hospital to visit, but I refuse to enter because there is a clown in the lobby. One of my preschool classmates has a mother who is a midget, and I find her almost as frightening as the lobby clown. My family moves to a nicer town with a better school system.
I start kindergarten and have two best friends, a boy who lives in the house behind mine, and a girl who is in my class. I learn to read, tell time, and, with much difficulty, add numbers. I am in the lowest reading group, because I intentionally failed the test fearing the pressure of chapter books, but state testing reveals I am reading at a high school level and I am moved. I cry over division homework, break up with both my best friends for different reasons, and put on weight. I develop severe social anxiety, and begin reading under my desk during school and binge eating peanut butter and challah sandwiches when left home alone. Things improve a little with a beagle puppy and a new friendship, but my body shame continues to increase because my mother is constantly harping on me about losing weight. At overnight camp, I am inexplicably popular, which revives some of my self confidence and allows me to widen my social circle. My friends start to like boys. My friends start to date boys, but I don’t.
I start high school, and although the first part of the year my shyness returns, by the end of the year I’ve made many new friends and joined the crew team. Sophomore year I return to school 40lbs thinner, and although I don’t know it, it is the thinnest I will ever be. I want to go to a competitive college, and obsess over my GPA, my test scores, and my extracurriculars. I early apply to my dream school, pecking out my application on my dad’s typewriter, and I am accepted.
Freshman year at a small liberal arts school in the northeast brings a wave a new and interesting friends, lots of psych and English classes, a gay first boyfriend, and 30lbs. My high school best friend and I begin a tumultuous sexual and romantic relationship. I declare a psych major and break up with my girlfriend. My girlfriend and I get back together, but have ended it again by the time I graduate.
In the shadow of 9/11, I move with friends to New York, where we get an apartment in Astoria and I work as an Assistant Librarian at a private school on the upper east side. I leave my job because the kids are miserable, spoiled people, and I wind up working at a Barnes and Noble in mid town. I don’t date, I don’t find a new job, and don’t deal with my growing obesity. After a conversation with an acquaintance who is attending library school, I look into it and decide to pursue my MLS despite my bad experience at the private school. I attend library school on a full scholarship, and lose 40 lbs doing Weight Watchers. I start working as a Children’s librarian for Queens Library, and I fall in love with the job. For the first time since college, I start dating.
There is something wrong with my voice, pain when I speak, and I have to leave my job, New York, and my friends to move back in with my parents. While I wait for my still somewhat mysterious voice pain to improve, I work in data entry, date using okcupid, and am crushingly lonely. My parents announce they are divorcing, so although my voice hasn’t really improved, I take a Children’s Librarian job again so that I can afford to move out. My voice gets somewhat better, and I meet someone on okcupid who seems like he might be real, might be something, and he is. He works two hours south of where I live, but drives up every Friday night and stays until Monday morning. We move in together, to a new apartment in a new city 1 hour south that is equidistant between our jobs. On a Saturday afternoon in early August 2015, I google “writing prompts” follow a link to a subreddit, and find myself writing one sentence for each year of my life.
| She smiled so often. I loved how she was always happy. Sometimes there were rough patches. It took a long time for me to walk. She tried her best to teach me. I just wished she would get over him. I moved to my grandpa's place. School here is is nice. Everybody is so different. I learned a lo of things. I have come to visit you mother. Then back to school. I feel no older than i was last year...
Will continue... | |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | One, I've come from none
To a world of noise and light
Eleven, I pray for Heaven
On Sundays, dressed in white
Twenty-two, I fall for you
You laugh and leave me in the rain
Thirty-three, now you agree
It was wise that I tried and tried again
Forty-four, I look at her
Full of childish life and art
Fifty-five, I watch her drive
Away and happy tears fill my heart
Sixty-six, I end my tricks
And settle in for a quiet life
Seventy-seven, I curse Him in Heaven
For taking away you, my wife
Eighty-eight, I shut the gate
To where I buried my last friend
Ninety-nine, I rest my spine
And smile at the end
*This is the [tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYD-DIggB2k) I would sing this poem to, if I were able to sing*
| She smiled so often. I loved how she was always happy. Sometimes there were rough patches. It took a long time for me to walk. She tried her best to teach me. I just wished she would get over him. I moved to my grandpa's place. School here is is nice. Everybody is so different. I learned a lo of things. I have come to visit you mother. Then back to school. I feel no older than i was last year...
Will continue... | |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | I was born.
I walked.
I talked.
I counted.
I learned.
I played baseball.
I played basketball.
I made a friend.
I had to get surgery.
I lost one of my best friends.
I lost the rest of my friends when I started a new school.
I was too shy to make any new friends, but there was this one girl.
Hey, I got my first girlfriend, as well as my first breakup.
High school, welcome to four years of friendless hell, in which I learn much about nothing in particular except how to bullshit and hide emotions.
I lived life in a perpetual state of smelling like chlorine from water polo, swim team, and lifeguarding, nearly all year round, luckily I met another girl...
Hey hey hey, the girl's boyfriend dumper her just before prom, leaving me free to swoop in and take her.
The last year of high school, and I couldn't be happier to leave and head off for a new collection of adventures awaiting me in college.
Hmm, a girl showing interest in me for the first time in years means I should probably enter into a relationship, even though she kept me from friends and took advantage of me at every turn.
Still with shitty girlfriend, on the plus side, I convinced a bunch of friends to live right next to my girlfriend so I could actually see them, and her roommate was pretty cute.
Best year ever: girlfriend breaks up with me, dog dies (literally thirty minutes later) almost drink myself to death by passing out behind a gas station in ten degree weather.
Begin dating ex's roommate, good times commence and follow her home after graduating and moving on from the best four years of my life.
Girlfriend breaks up with me leaving me friendless in an entire new city, but with a new job, and newfound confidence from being in a healthy and loving relationship.
Working, working, working, and occasionally playing, there's not much time to explore the world, but thinking about New Zealand, and getting away from here.
To be continued.... | She smiled so often. I loved how she was always happy. Sometimes there were rough patches. It took a long time for me to walk. She tried her best to teach me. I just wished she would get over him. I moved to my grandpa's place. School here is is nice. Everybody is so different. I learned a lo of things. I have come to visit you mother. Then back to school. I feel no older than i was last year...
Will continue... | |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | She is small. She moves with more strength each passing year. Her voice is no longer only a tool for begging. She has a voice. A fresh creature, but stronger, still.
She had a voice. Trust is an illusion. This is pain. This is what Daddy issues are made of. This will all make sense one day. (That is a lie.)
The next ten years will be a blur. My teeth are crooked. My lips are thin. My breasts are small.
My. My, my, my. I've found my voice. I'm a handful, but I'm free.
I'm the first in my family to graduate college. My best friend overdosed. I ran away to Europe.
What now?
[it's not very good, but damn if it doesn't FEEL good to write anything at all when you've been in a deep slump]
| They weren't expecting me, things got tense.
My brother came, he looked like an orangutan.
Mom took us to Alabama and we lived with my grandparents.
It took a while to get comfortable.
I wasn't very reasonable, I got kicked out of daycare.
My brother and I fought regularly.
Mom got remarried, he is nice.
We moved to a small town, things are different.
It took some time for me to settle in.
I made some friends, we would run around until mom would whistle.
Mom told us we had a sister on the way.
There is talk of moving, and we settle on going.
School is different, I am super awkward.
I made new friends.
Living on a military base is fun.
Finally got a girlfriend, it was nice while it lasted, then I got another.
Being able to drive gives a whole new meaning to freedom.
I really stopped caring about school and it was apparent, that breakup was not pretty.
But I somehow managed to graduate.
I started treading water, dropped out of college.
Left town and tossed down stakes in a new place.
Things where great and then they got rough, such is life.
| |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | I was born in 1983, which as good a year as any for that to happen. The next little while is spent learning to walk and talk, the usual stuff. My world changes when my little sister is born, and I wasn't too thrilled about it.
Playing with the neighbours is my life - I meet a french-speaking little boy who will become a friend for life. But I suffer my first real loss when my first best friend moves away for terrible reasons I couldn't understand at that age. I develop a
love of learning - I can name all the countries on a globe. I can name all the dinosaurs. And, I meet a new best friend who wiil be by my side all through school.
A pack of cards inspires me to get really, really into baseball. My team wins the World Series. They win it again. Baseball gets locked out and that childhood wonder - or obsession - is crushed for good.
I dive into geekhood by getting glasses and taking up Magic. Not long after, I'm showing early leadership skills by running tournaments for my friends. Building on this hobby, I take up miniatures painting. Two weeks without power due to an ice storm gives me the time to learn role playing, and my gaming hobby is in full gear.
Sports are a part of my life, and I taste real success for the first time when my curling team makes provincials. I get my first job as a farmhand, but it doesn't last long. For the first time I make a school team, when I find out I'm really good at throwing an ultimate disc.
My first feeling of being grown up is when I travel overseas, paid entirely by myself. I finally get my first date. Things are looking great as as I start my career in high tech.
Then, my heart gets broken, but fortunately I have some new pet rabbits to love instead, and they keep me happy. By travelling to Peru with my sister, for the first time, I start building adult relationships with my family. Not long after I get my first permanent job and my first car. I start building my adult social life by getting back into ultimate in a big way. I wreck that first car, it's a total write-off, and I lose one my my bunnies.
Everything changes when I meet the woman who will be my wife and life is bliss. I get the chance travel to Tanzania with my Dad and we climb Kilimanjaro together, an experience I'll never forget. I prove my leadership skills and I get promoted to
management.
Now engaged, I buy a house in a wonderful neighbourhood with my fiancee, but lose my other rabbit. Soon after we officially tie the knot. Life is often good, and sometimes bad, but I can't wait to see how it turns out! | They weren't expecting me, things got tense.
My brother came, he looked like an orangutan.
Mom took us to Alabama and we lived with my grandparents.
It took a while to get comfortable.
I wasn't very reasonable, I got kicked out of daycare.
My brother and I fought regularly.
Mom got remarried, he is nice.
We moved to a small town, things are different.
It took some time for me to settle in.
I made some friends, we would run around until mom would whistle.
Mom told us we had a sister on the way.
There is talk of moving, and we settle on going.
School is different, I am super awkward.
I made new friends.
Living on a military base is fun.
Finally got a girlfriend, it was nice while it lasted, then I got another.
Being able to drive gives a whole new meaning to freedom.
I really stopped caring about school and it was apparent, that breakup was not pretty.
But I somehow managed to graduate.
I started treading water, dropped out of college.
Left town and tossed down stakes in a new place.
Things where great and then they got rough, such is life.
| |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | In the winter of 1980, my anxious mother gives birth to me, a baby girl. I am a shy and careful toddler who talks early and walks late. My mother is pregnant again. The day my brother is born, my grandmother takes me to the hospital to visit, but I refuse to enter because there is a clown in the lobby. One of my preschool classmates has a mother who is a midget, and I find her almost as frightening as the lobby clown. My family moves to a nicer town with a better school system.
I start kindergarten and have two best friends, a boy who lives in the house behind mine, and a girl who is in my class. I learn to read, tell time, and, with much difficulty, add numbers. I am in the lowest reading group, because I intentionally failed the test fearing the pressure of chapter books, but state testing reveals I am reading at a high school level and I am moved. I cry over division homework, break up with both my best friends for different reasons, and put on weight. I develop severe social anxiety, and begin reading under my desk during school and binge eating peanut butter and challah sandwiches when left home alone. Things improve a little with a beagle puppy and a new friendship, but my body shame continues to increase because my mother is constantly harping on me about losing weight. At overnight camp, I am inexplicably popular, which revives some of my self confidence and allows me to widen my social circle. My friends start to like boys. My friends start to date boys, but I don’t.
I start high school, and although the first part of the year my shyness returns, by the end of the year I’ve made many new friends and joined the crew team. Sophomore year I return to school 40lbs thinner, and although I don’t know it, it is the thinnest I will ever be. I want to go to a competitive college, and obsess over my GPA, my test scores, and my extracurriculars. I early apply to my dream school, pecking out my application on my dad’s typewriter, and I am accepted.
Freshman year at a small liberal arts school in the northeast brings a wave a new and interesting friends, lots of psych and English classes, a gay first boyfriend, and 30lbs. My high school best friend and I begin a tumultuous sexual and romantic relationship. I declare a psych major and break up with my girlfriend. My girlfriend and I get back together, but have ended it again by the time I graduate.
In the shadow of 9/11, I move with friends to New York, where we get an apartment in Astoria and I work as an Assistant Librarian at a private school on the upper east side. I leave my job because the kids are miserable, spoiled people, and I wind up working at a Barnes and Noble in mid town. I don’t date, I don’t find a new job, and don’t deal with my growing obesity. After a conversation with an acquaintance who is attending library school, I look into it and decide to pursue my MLS despite my bad experience at the private school. I attend library school on a full scholarship, and lose 40 lbs doing Weight Watchers. I start working as a Children’s librarian for Queens Library, and I fall in love with the job. For the first time since college, I start dating.
There is something wrong with my voice, pain when I speak, and I have to leave my job, New York, and my friends to move back in with my parents. While I wait for my still somewhat mysterious voice pain to improve, I work in data entry, date using okcupid, and am crushingly lonely. My parents announce they are divorcing, so although my voice hasn’t really improved, I take a Children’s Librarian job again so that I can afford to move out. My voice gets somewhat better, and I meet someone on okcupid who seems like he might be real, might be something, and he is. He works two hours south of where I live, but drives up every Friday night and stays until Monday morning. We move in together, to a new apartment in a new city 1 hour south that is equidistant between our jobs. On a Saturday afternoon in early August 2015, I google “writing prompts” follow a link to a subreddit, and find myself writing one sentence for each year of my life.
| They weren't expecting me, things got tense.
My brother came, he looked like an orangutan.
Mom took us to Alabama and we lived with my grandparents.
It took a while to get comfortable.
I wasn't very reasonable, I got kicked out of daycare.
My brother and I fought regularly.
Mom got remarried, he is nice.
We moved to a small town, things are different.
It took some time for me to settle in.
I made some friends, we would run around until mom would whistle.
Mom told us we had a sister on the way.
There is talk of moving, and we settle on going.
School is different, I am super awkward.
I made new friends.
Living on a military base is fun.
Finally got a girlfriend, it was nice while it lasted, then I got another.
Being able to drive gives a whole new meaning to freedom.
I really stopped caring about school and it was apparent, that breakup was not pretty.
But I somehow managed to graduate.
I started treading water, dropped out of college.
Left town and tossed down stakes in a new place.
Things where great and then they got rough, such is life.
| |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | One, I've come from none
To a world of noise and light
Eleven, I pray for Heaven
On Sundays, dressed in white
Twenty-two, I fall for you
You laugh and leave me in the rain
Thirty-three, now you agree
It was wise that I tried and tried again
Forty-four, I look at her
Full of childish life and art
Fifty-five, I watch her drive
Away and happy tears fill my heart
Sixty-six, I end my tricks
And settle in for a quiet life
Seventy-seven, I curse Him in Heaven
For taking away you, my wife
Eighty-eight, I shut the gate
To where I buried my last friend
Ninety-nine, I rest my spine
And smile at the end
*This is the [tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYD-DIggB2k) I would sing this poem to, if I were able to sing*
| They weren't expecting me, things got tense.
My brother came, he looked like an orangutan.
Mom took us to Alabama and we lived with my grandparents.
It took a while to get comfortable.
I wasn't very reasonable, I got kicked out of daycare.
My brother and I fought regularly.
Mom got remarried, he is nice.
We moved to a small town, things are different.
It took some time for me to settle in.
I made some friends, we would run around until mom would whistle.
Mom told us we had a sister on the way.
There is talk of moving, and we settle on going.
School is different, I am super awkward.
I made new friends.
Living on a military base is fun.
Finally got a girlfriend, it was nice while it lasted, then I got another.
Being able to drive gives a whole new meaning to freedom.
I really stopped caring about school and it was apparent, that breakup was not pretty.
But I somehow managed to graduate.
I started treading water, dropped out of college.
Left town and tossed down stakes in a new place.
Things where great and then they got rough, such is life.
| |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | She is small. She moves with more strength each passing year. Her voice is no longer only a tool for begging. She has a voice. A fresh creature, but stronger, still.
She had a voice. Trust is an illusion. This is pain. This is what Daddy issues are made of. This will all make sense one day. (That is a lie.)
The next ten years will be a blur. My teeth are crooked. My lips are thin. My breasts are small.
My. My, my, my. I've found my voice. I'm a handful, but I'm free.
I'm the first in my family to graduate college. My best friend overdosed. I ran away to Europe.
What now?
[it's not very good, but damn if it doesn't FEEL good to write anything at all when you've been in a deep slump]
| 1 What am I?
-
2 I want to communicate more effectively.
-
3 I want to have fun.
-
4 We are moving away.
-
5 I feel nervous for the first time.
-
6 I don't know why no one listens to me, I realize one day my life will end, and it frightens me to this day.
-
7 I have many friends and school is boring.
-
8 Time for basketball and baseball, but I'm not very confident in myself.
-
9 Why do the people that are supposed to love me the most hurt me the most?
-
10 I lost most of my friends, but now I know how to act happy.
-
11 Moving up in school, better subjects but most are still boring and too simple, my peers are becoming stupid.
-
12 Peers are less relatable and girls are becoming attractive.
-
13 Football is an excellent release for me, I finally feel a sense of belonging in this sport and in math/science.
-
14 High school now: felt confident before, now I feel small and weak.
-
15 I find that it is easy to dislike things, I have a few close friends, and school subjects are finally interesting.
-
16 Football, eat, sleep, school, work, repeat; I got low over the summer but I decided to press on.
-
17 About to graduate, school feels like prison now but at least I'm learning calculus, and I've wanted a girlfriend but no one seems to relate to me.
-
18 Graduated with many high honors, thrown into the world, scholarships, engineering college, first year is easy.
-
19 Second year was much more difficult but finally enriching and interesting to me for the first time in any academic pursuit, I can now count the friends that I have on one hand.
-
20 Present: This year was the hardest school year I ever had, still have scholarship, have even fewer friends, and I'm starting to think I am doomed to be single for the rest of my life.
| |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | I was born in 1983, which as good a year as any for that to happen. The next little while is spent learning to walk and talk, the usual stuff. My world changes when my little sister is born, and I wasn't too thrilled about it.
Playing with the neighbours is my life - I meet a french-speaking little boy who will become a friend for life. But I suffer my first real loss when my first best friend moves away for terrible reasons I couldn't understand at that age. I develop a
love of learning - I can name all the countries on a globe. I can name all the dinosaurs. And, I meet a new best friend who wiil be by my side all through school.
A pack of cards inspires me to get really, really into baseball. My team wins the World Series. They win it again. Baseball gets locked out and that childhood wonder - or obsession - is crushed for good.
I dive into geekhood by getting glasses and taking up Magic. Not long after, I'm showing early leadership skills by running tournaments for my friends. Building on this hobby, I take up miniatures painting. Two weeks without power due to an ice storm gives me the time to learn role playing, and my gaming hobby is in full gear.
Sports are a part of my life, and I taste real success for the first time when my curling team makes provincials. I get my first job as a farmhand, but it doesn't last long. For the first time I make a school team, when I find out I'm really good at throwing an ultimate disc.
My first feeling of being grown up is when I travel overseas, paid entirely by myself. I finally get my first date. Things are looking great as as I start my career in high tech.
Then, my heart gets broken, but fortunately I have some new pet rabbits to love instead, and they keep me happy. By travelling to Peru with my sister, for the first time, I start building adult relationships with my family. Not long after I get my first permanent job and my first car. I start building my adult social life by getting back into ultimate in a big way. I wreck that first car, it's a total write-off, and I lose one my my bunnies.
Everything changes when I meet the woman who will be my wife and life is bliss. I get the chance travel to Tanzania with my Dad and we climb Kilimanjaro together, an experience I'll never forget. I prove my leadership skills and I get promoted to
management.
Now engaged, I buy a house in a wonderful neighbourhood with my fiancee, but lose my other rabbit. Soon after we officially tie the knot. Life is often good, and sometimes bad, but I can't wait to see how it turns out! | 1 What am I?
-
2 I want to communicate more effectively.
-
3 I want to have fun.
-
4 We are moving away.
-
5 I feel nervous for the first time.
-
6 I don't know why no one listens to me, I realize one day my life will end, and it frightens me to this day.
-
7 I have many friends and school is boring.
-
8 Time for basketball and baseball, but I'm not very confident in myself.
-
9 Why do the people that are supposed to love me the most hurt me the most?
-
10 I lost most of my friends, but now I know how to act happy.
-
11 Moving up in school, better subjects but most are still boring and too simple, my peers are becoming stupid.
-
12 Peers are less relatable and girls are becoming attractive.
-
13 Football is an excellent release for me, I finally feel a sense of belonging in this sport and in math/science.
-
14 High school now: felt confident before, now I feel small and weak.
-
15 I find that it is easy to dislike things, I have a few close friends, and school subjects are finally interesting.
-
16 Football, eat, sleep, school, work, repeat; I got low over the summer but I decided to press on.
-
17 About to graduate, school feels like prison now but at least I'm learning calculus, and I've wanted a girlfriend but no one seems to relate to me.
-
18 Graduated with many high honors, thrown into the world, scholarships, engineering college, first year is easy.
-
19 Second year was much more difficult but finally enriching and interesting to me for the first time in any academic pursuit, I can now count the friends that I have on one hand.
-
20 Present: This year was the hardest school year I ever had, still have scholarship, have even fewer friends, and I'm starting to think I am doomed to be single for the rest of my life.
| |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | In the winter of 1980, my anxious mother gives birth to me, a baby girl. I am a shy and careful toddler who talks early and walks late. My mother is pregnant again. The day my brother is born, my grandmother takes me to the hospital to visit, but I refuse to enter because there is a clown in the lobby. One of my preschool classmates has a mother who is a midget, and I find her almost as frightening as the lobby clown. My family moves to a nicer town with a better school system.
I start kindergarten and have two best friends, a boy who lives in the house behind mine, and a girl who is in my class. I learn to read, tell time, and, with much difficulty, add numbers. I am in the lowest reading group, because I intentionally failed the test fearing the pressure of chapter books, but state testing reveals I am reading at a high school level and I am moved. I cry over division homework, break up with both my best friends for different reasons, and put on weight. I develop severe social anxiety, and begin reading under my desk during school and binge eating peanut butter and challah sandwiches when left home alone. Things improve a little with a beagle puppy and a new friendship, but my body shame continues to increase because my mother is constantly harping on me about losing weight. At overnight camp, I am inexplicably popular, which revives some of my self confidence and allows me to widen my social circle. My friends start to like boys. My friends start to date boys, but I don’t.
I start high school, and although the first part of the year my shyness returns, by the end of the year I’ve made many new friends and joined the crew team. Sophomore year I return to school 40lbs thinner, and although I don’t know it, it is the thinnest I will ever be. I want to go to a competitive college, and obsess over my GPA, my test scores, and my extracurriculars. I early apply to my dream school, pecking out my application on my dad’s typewriter, and I am accepted.
Freshman year at a small liberal arts school in the northeast brings a wave a new and interesting friends, lots of psych and English classes, a gay first boyfriend, and 30lbs. My high school best friend and I begin a tumultuous sexual and romantic relationship. I declare a psych major and break up with my girlfriend. My girlfriend and I get back together, but have ended it again by the time I graduate.
In the shadow of 9/11, I move with friends to New York, where we get an apartment in Astoria and I work as an Assistant Librarian at a private school on the upper east side. I leave my job because the kids are miserable, spoiled people, and I wind up working at a Barnes and Noble in mid town. I don’t date, I don’t find a new job, and don’t deal with my growing obesity. After a conversation with an acquaintance who is attending library school, I look into it and decide to pursue my MLS despite my bad experience at the private school. I attend library school on a full scholarship, and lose 40 lbs doing Weight Watchers. I start working as a Children’s librarian for Queens Library, and I fall in love with the job. For the first time since college, I start dating.
There is something wrong with my voice, pain when I speak, and I have to leave my job, New York, and my friends to move back in with my parents. While I wait for my still somewhat mysterious voice pain to improve, I work in data entry, date using okcupid, and am crushingly lonely. My parents announce they are divorcing, so although my voice hasn’t really improved, I take a Children’s Librarian job again so that I can afford to move out. My voice gets somewhat better, and I meet someone on okcupid who seems like he might be real, might be something, and he is. He works two hours south of where I live, but drives up every Friday night and stays until Monday morning. We move in together, to a new apartment in a new city 1 hour south that is equidistant between our jobs. On a Saturday afternoon in early August 2015, I google “writing prompts” follow a link to a subreddit, and find myself writing one sentence for each year of my life.
| 1 What am I?
-
2 I want to communicate more effectively.
-
3 I want to have fun.
-
4 We are moving away.
-
5 I feel nervous for the first time.
-
6 I don't know why no one listens to me, I realize one day my life will end, and it frightens me to this day.
-
7 I have many friends and school is boring.
-
8 Time for basketball and baseball, but I'm not very confident in myself.
-
9 Why do the people that are supposed to love me the most hurt me the most?
-
10 I lost most of my friends, but now I know how to act happy.
-
11 Moving up in school, better subjects but most are still boring and too simple, my peers are becoming stupid.
-
12 Peers are less relatable and girls are becoming attractive.
-
13 Football is an excellent release for me, I finally feel a sense of belonging in this sport and in math/science.
-
14 High school now: felt confident before, now I feel small and weak.
-
15 I find that it is easy to dislike things, I have a few close friends, and school subjects are finally interesting.
-
16 Football, eat, sleep, school, work, repeat; I got low over the summer but I decided to press on.
-
17 About to graduate, school feels like prison now but at least I'm learning calculus, and I've wanted a girlfriend but no one seems to relate to me.
-
18 Graduated with many high honors, thrown into the world, scholarships, engineering college, first year is easy.
-
19 Second year was much more difficult but finally enriching and interesting to me for the first time in any academic pursuit, I can now count the friends that I have on one hand.
-
20 Present: This year was the hardest school year I ever had, still have scholarship, have even fewer friends, and I'm starting to think I am doomed to be single for the rest of my life.
| |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | One, I've come from none
To a world of noise and light
Eleven, I pray for Heaven
On Sundays, dressed in white
Twenty-two, I fall for you
You laugh and leave me in the rain
Thirty-three, now you agree
It was wise that I tried and tried again
Forty-four, I look at her
Full of childish life and art
Fifty-five, I watch her drive
Away and happy tears fill my heart
Sixty-six, I end my tricks
And settle in for a quiet life
Seventy-seven, I curse Him in Heaven
For taking away you, my wife
Eighty-eight, I shut the gate
To where I buried my last friend
Ninety-nine, I rest my spine
And smile at the end
*This is the [tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYD-DIggB2k) I would sing this poem to, if I were able to sing*
| 1 What am I?
-
2 I want to communicate more effectively.
-
3 I want to have fun.
-
4 We are moving away.
-
5 I feel nervous for the first time.
-
6 I don't know why no one listens to me, I realize one day my life will end, and it frightens me to this day.
-
7 I have many friends and school is boring.
-
8 Time for basketball and baseball, but I'm not very confident in myself.
-
9 Why do the people that are supposed to love me the most hurt me the most?
-
10 I lost most of my friends, but now I know how to act happy.
-
11 Moving up in school, better subjects but most are still boring and too simple, my peers are becoming stupid.
-
12 Peers are less relatable and girls are becoming attractive.
-
13 Football is an excellent release for me, I finally feel a sense of belonging in this sport and in math/science.
-
14 High school now: felt confident before, now I feel small and weak.
-
15 I find that it is easy to dislike things, I have a few close friends, and school subjects are finally interesting.
-
16 Football, eat, sleep, school, work, repeat; I got low over the summer but I decided to press on.
-
17 About to graduate, school feels like prison now but at least I'm learning calculus, and I've wanted a girlfriend but no one seems to relate to me.
-
18 Graduated with many high honors, thrown into the world, scholarships, engineering college, first year is easy.
-
19 Second year was much more difficult but finally enriching and interesting to me for the first time in any academic pursuit, I can now count the friends that I have on one hand.
-
20 Present: This year was the hardest school year I ever had, still have scholarship, have even fewer friends, and I'm starting to think I am doomed to be single for the rest of my life.
| |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | I was born in 1983, which as good a year as any for that to happen. The next little while is spent learning to walk and talk, the usual stuff. My world changes when my little sister is born, and I wasn't too thrilled about it.
Playing with the neighbours is my life - I meet a french-speaking little boy who will become a friend for life. But I suffer my first real loss when my first best friend moves away for terrible reasons I couldn't understand at that age. I develop a
love of learning - I can name all the countries on a globe. I can name all the dinosaurs. And, I meet a new best friend who wiil be by my side all through school.
A pack of cards inspires me to get really, really into baseball. My team wins the World Series. They win it again. Baseball gets locked out and that childhood wonder - or obsession - is crushed for good.
I dive into geekhood by getting glasses and taking up Magic. Not long after, I'm showing early leadership skills by running tournaments for my friends. Building on this hobby, I take up miniatures painting. Two weeks without power due to an ice storm gives me the time to learn role playing, and my gaming hobby is in full gear.
Sports are a part of my life, and I taste real success for the first time when my curling team makes provincials. I get my first job as a farmhand, but it doesn't last long. For the first time I make a school team, when I find out I'm really good at throwing an ultimate disc.
My first feeling of being grown up is when I travel overseas, paid entirely by myself. I finally get my first date. Things are looking great as as I start my career in high tech.
Then, my heart gets broken, but fortunately I have some new pet rabbits to love instead, and they keep me happy. By travelling to Peru with my sister, for the first time, I start building adult relationships with my family. Not long after I get my first permanent job and my first car. I start building my adult social life by getting back into ultimate in a big way. I wreck that first car, it's a total write-off, and I lose one my my bunnies.
Everything changes when I meet the woman who will be my wife and life is bliss. I get the chance travel to Tanzania with my Dad and we climb Kilimanjaro together, an experience I'll never forget. I prove my leadership skills and I get promoted to
management.
Now engaged, I buy a house in a wonderful neighbourhood with my fiancee, but lose my other rabbit. Soon after we officially tie the knot. Life is often good, and sometimes bad, but I can't wait to see how it turns out! | Life begins.
My imaginary friend keeps me occupied.
I can't stop coughing, I can't sleep.
I am told that I can't do sports or go outside like the other kids.
Mommy and daddy yell at each other a lot.
We move, daddy didn't come with us.
I have to learn a new language, why am I treated so differently?
Video Games are my only friends.
We move again, I have to learn yet another new language.
My English is improving.
I made my first friend, I think I enjoy being alive now.
I finally feel normal, maybe I fit in.
New school, I'm alone again.
Why can't I feel emotions anymore?
I stop caring.
I want to die.
... But maybe there's hope. | |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | I was born in 1983, which as good a year as any for that to happen. The next little while is spent learning to walk and talk, the usual stuff. My world changes when my little sister is born, and I wasn't too thrilled about it.
Playing with the neighbours is my life - I meet a french-speaking little boy who will become a friend for life. But I suffer my first real loss when my first best friend moves away for terrible reasons I couldn't understand at that age. I develop a
love of learning - I can name all the countries on a globe. I can name all the dinosaurs. And, I meet a new best friend who wiil be by my side all through school.
A pack of cards inspires me to get really, really into baseball. My team wins the World Series. They win it again. Baseball gets locked out and that childhood wonder - or obsession - is crushed for good.
I dive into geekhood by getting glasses and taking up Magic. Not long after, I'm showing early leadership skills by running tournaments for my friends. Building on this hobby, I take up miniatures painting. Two weeks without power due to an ice storm gives me the time to learn role playing, and my gaming hobby is in full gear.
Sports are a part of my life, and I taste real success for the first time when my curling team makes provincials. I get my first job as a farmhand, but it doesn't last long. For the first time I make a school team, when I find out I'm really good at throwing an ultimate disc.
My first feeling of being grown up is when I travel overseas, paid entirely by myself. I finally get my first date. Things are looking great as as I start my career in high tech.
Then, my heart gets broken, but fortunately I have some new pet rabbits to love instead, and they keep me happy. By travelling to Peru with my sister, for the first time, I start building adult relationships with my family. Not long after I get my first permanent job and my first car. I start building my adult social life by getting back into ultimate in a big way. I wreck that first car, it's a total write-off, and I lose one my my bunnies.
Everything changes when I meet the woman who will be my wife and life is bliss. I get the chance travel to Tanzania with my Dad and we climb Kilimanjaro together, an experience I'll never forget. I prove my leadership skills and I get promoted to
management.
Now engaged, I buy a house in a wonderful neighbourhood with my fiancee, but lose my other rabbit. Soon after we officially tie the knot. Life is often good, and sometimes bad, but I can't wait to see how it turns out! | I smiled.
I laughed.
I crawled.
I walked.
I learned.
I tried.
I exceeded.
I ruled.
I exceeded.
I tried.
I learned.
I walked.
I crawled.
I laughed.
I smiled.
| |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | In the winter of 1980, my anxious mother gives birth to me, a baby girl. I am a shy and careful toddler who talks early and walks late. My mother is pregnant again. The day my brother is born, my grandmother takes me to the hospital to visit, but I refuse to enter because there is a clown in the lobby. One of my preschool classmates has a mother who is a midget, and I find her almost as frightening as the lobby clown. My family moves to a nicer town with a better school system.
I start kindergarten and have two best friends, a boy who lives in the house behind mine, and a girl who is in my class. I learn to read, tell time, and, with much difficulty, add numbers. I am in the lowest reading group, because I intentionally failed the test fearing the pressure of chapter books, but state testing reveals I am reading at a high school level and I am moved. I cry over division homework, break up with both my best friends for different reasons, and put on weight. I develop severe social anxiety, and begin reading under my desk during school and binge eating peanut butter and challah sandwiches when left home alone. Things improve a little with a beagle puppy and a new friendship, but my body shame continues to increase because my mother is constantly harping on me about losing weight. At overnight camp, I am inexplicably popular, which revives some of my self confidence and allows me to widen my social circle. My friends start to like boys. My friends start to date boys, but I don’t.
I start high school, and although the first part of the year my shyness returns, by the end of the year I’ve made many new friends and joined the crew team. Sophomore year I return to school 40lbs thinner, and although I don’t know it, it is the thinnest I will ever be. I want to go to a competitive college, and obsess over my GPA, my test scores, and my extracurriculars. I early apply to my dream school, pecking out my application on my dad’s typewriter, and I am accepted.
Freshman year at a small liberal arts school in the northeast brings a wave a new and interesting friends, lots of psych and English classes, a gay first boyfriend, and 30lbs. My high school best friend and I begin a tumultuous sexual and romantic relationship. I declare a psych major and break up with my girlfriend. My girlfriend and I get back together, but have ended it again by the time I graduate.
In the shadow of 9/11, I move with friends to New York, where we get an apartment in Astoria and I work as an Assistant Librarian at a private school on the upper east side. I leave my job because the kids are miserable, spoiled people, and I wind up working at a Barnes and Noble in mid town. I don’t date, I don’t find a new job, and don’t deal with my growing obesity. After a conversation with an acquaintance who is attending library school, I look into it and decide to pursue my MLS despite my bad experience at the private school. I attend library school on a full scholarship, and lose 40 lbs doing Weight Watchers. I start working as a Children’s librarian for Queens Library, and I fall in love with the job. For the first time since college, I start dating.
There is something wrong with my voice, pain when I speak, and I have to leave my job, New York, and my friends to move back in with my parents. While I wait for my still somewhat mysterious voice pain to improve, I work in data entry, date using okcupid, and am crushingly lonely. My parents announce they are divorcing, so although my voice hasn’t really improved, I take a Children’s Librarian job again so that I can afford to move out. My voice gets somewhat better, and I meet someone on okcupid who seems like he might be real, might be something, and he is. He works two hours south of where I live, but drives up every Friday night and stays until Monday morning. We move in together, to a new apartment in a new city 1 hour south that is equidistant between our jobs. On a Saturday afternoon in early August 2015, I google “writing prompts” follow a link to a subreddit, and find myself writing one sentence for each year of my life.
| The birth of the third son would prove difficult during the hurricane.
As a baby, sickness engulfed his first year of life, struggling but strong the baby persevered.
Parents, struggling with a fifth mouth to feed, wander the lands for new shelter, buried by a severe winter, they knew it would only be temporary.
South, toward warmer climate and new company, met with hardship only discussed in more recent times the young son became social and started to grow.
Prospering in the new land, yet still clinging to his mother, the youth would start to be sensitive and not interact with the other male youths.
A decision to move back north, closer to family was decided, against the boys wishes, the northern children would prove to be a challenge for the years to come, acceptance not met and difficulties surging through his life.
Death of a matriarch causes much grief and seclusion from the outside world and leads the boy further from social acceptance.
Family gatherings and large growth spurts allow the boy much change and confidence.
A new arrival, a young baby girl shows much difficulty to acceot, fear of losing his mothers love pushes the boy into a dark place for much of his youth.
Turning to food for more than nourishment and ending all social interaction causes the boy much pain but this is his choosing.
Many years pass as the boy becomes a young man, he is picked on by the others in his class, he is pushed further into a hateful place till he feels he can not take it anymore.
Life returns but with little strength for the young man, he continues to grow much larger and taller than the other youths but can not find a way to make it an advantage...(to be continued when i finish work, i'm new to writing) | |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | One, I've come from none
To a world of noise and light
Eleven, I pray for Heaven
On Sundays, dressed in white
Twenty-two, I fall for you
You laugh and leave me in the rain
Thirty-three, now you agree
It was wise that I tried and tried again
Forty-four, I look at her
Full of childish life and art
Fifty-five, I watch her drive
Away and happy tears fill my heart
Sixty-six, I end my tricks
And settle in for a quiet life
Seventy-seven, I curse Him in Heaven
For taking away you, my wife
Eighty-eight, I shut the gate
To where I buried my last friend
Ninety-nine, I rest my spine
And smile at the end
*This is the [tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYD-DIggB2k) I would sing this poem to, if I were able to sing*
| The birth of the third son would prove difficult during the hurricane.
As a baby, sickness engulfed his first year of life, struggling but strong the baby persevered.
Parents, struggling with a fifth mouth to feed, wander the lands for new shelter, buried by a severe winter, they knew it would only be temporary.
South, toward warmer climate and new company, met with hardship only discussed in more recent times the young son became social and started to grow.
Prospering in the new land, yet still clinging to his mother, the youth would start to be sensitive and not interact with the other male youths.
A decision to move back north, closer to family was decided, against the boys wishes, the northern children would prove to be a challenge for the years to come, acceptance not met and difficulties surging through his life.
Death of a matriarch causes much grief and seclusion from the outside world and leads the boy further from social acceptance.
Family gatherings and large growth spurts allow the boy much change and confidence.
A new arrival, a young baby girl shows much difficulty to acceot, fear of losing his mothers love pushes the boy into a dark place for much of his youth.
Turning to food for more than nourishment and ending all social interaction causes the boy much pain but this is his choosing.
Many years pass as the boy becomes a young man, he is picked on by the others in his class, he is pushed further into a hateful place till he feels he can not take it anymore.
Life returns but with little strength for the young man, he continues to grow much larger and taller than the other youths but can not find a way to make it an advantage...(to be continued when i finish work, i'm new to writing) | |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | In the winter of 1980, my anxious mother gives birth to me, a baby girl. I am a shy and careful toddler who talks early and walks late. My mother is pregnant again. The day my brother is born, my grandmother takes me to the hospital to visit, but I refuse to enter because there is a clown in the lobby. One of my preschool classmates has a mother who is a midget, and I find her almost as frightening as the lobby clown. My family moves to a nicer town with a better school system.
I start kindergarten and have two best friends, a boy who lives in the house behind mine, and a girl who is in my class. I learn to read, tell time, and, with much difficulty, add numbers. I am in the lowest reading group, because I intentionally failed the test fearing the pressure of chapter books, but state testing reveals I am reading at a high school level and I am moved. I cry over division homework, break up with both my best friends for different reasons, and put on weight. I develop severe social anxiety, and begin reading under my desk during school and binge eating peanut butter and challah sandwiches when left home alone. Things improve a little with a beagle puppy and a new friendship, but my body shame continues to increase because my mother is constantly harping on me about losing weight. At overnight camp, I am inexplicably popular, which revives some of my self confidence and allows me to widen my social circle. My friends start to like boys. My friends start to date boys, but I don’t.
I start high school, and although the first part of the year my shyness returns, by the end of the year I’ve made many new friends and joined the crew team. Sophomore year I return to school 40lbs thinner, and although I don’t know it, it is the thinnest I will ever be. I want to go to a competitive college, and obsess over my GPA, my test scores, and my extracurriculars. I early apply to my dream school, pecking out my application on my dad’s typewriter, and I am accepted.
Freshman year at a small liberal arts school in the northeast brings a wave a new and interesting friends, lots of psych and English classes, a gay first boyfriend, and 30lbs. My high school best friend and I begin a tumultuous sexual and romantic relationship. I declare a psych major and break up with my girlfriend. My girlfriend and I get back together, but have ended it again by the time I graduate.
In the shadow of 9/11, I move with friends to New York, where we get an apartment in Astoria and I work as an Assistant Librarian at a private school on the upper east side. I leave my job because the kids are miserable, spoiled people, and I wind up working at a Barnes and Noble in mid town. I don’t date, I don’t find a new job, and don’t deal with my growing obesity. After a conversation with an acquaintance who is attending library school, I look into it and decide to pursue my MLS despite my bad experience at the private school. I attend library school on a full scholarship, and lose 40 lbs doing Weight Watchers. I start working as a Children’s librarian for Queens Library, and I fall in love with the job. For the first time since college, I start dating.
There is something wrong with my voice, pain when I speak, and I have to leave my job, New York, and my friends to move back in with my parents. While I wait for my still somewhat mysterious voice pain to improve, I work in data entry, date using okcupid, and am crushingly lonely. My parents announce they are divorcing, so although my voice hasn’t really improved, I take a Children’s Librarian job again so that I can afford to move out. My voice gets somewhat better, and I meet someone on okcupid who seems like he might be real, might be something, and he is. He works two hours south of where I live, but drives up every Friday night and stays until Monday morning. We move in together, to a new apartment in a new city 1 hour south that is equidistant between our jobs. On a Saturday afternoon in early August 2015, I google “writing prompts” follow a link to a subreddit, and find myself writing one sentence for each year of my life.
| I was born.
I turned five, don't remember much from before.
I didn't remember who he was, but I didn't like the man who played tickle with me.
Mom was crying, didn't stop crying when we visited the man in white.
I feel weird, but I want to go out to play.
The man I didn't like came to visit and I still don't like him.
The man in white is a doctor, he's crying a lot, saying for me.
I can't move out of the bed, mother said something about a tumor.
I'm about to die, but I admit that the man I never liked, my step-father touched me inappropriately.
I struggle on, trying to make the best of a bad situation, needles and all.
My step-father is prosecuted and sent to jail for life, and now my eyes lay down forever. | |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | One, I've come from none
To a world of noise and light
Eleven, I pray for Heaven
On Sundays, dressed in white
Twenty-two, I fall for you
You laugh and leave me in the rain
Thirty-three, now you agree
It was wise that I tried and tried again
Forty-four, I look at her
Full of childish life and art
Fifty-five, I watch her drive
Away and happy tears fill my heart
Sixty-six, I end my tricks
And settle in for a quiet life
Seventy-seven, I curse Him in Heaven
For taking away you, my wife
Eighty-eight, I shut the gate
To where I buried my last friend
Ninety-nine, I rest my spine
And smile at the end
*This is the [tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYD-DIggB2k) I would sing this poem to, if I were able to sing*
| I was born.
I turned five, don't remember much from before.
I didn't remember who he was, but I didn't like the man who played tickle with me.
Mom was crying, didn't stop crying when we visited the man in white.
I feel weird, but I want to go out to play.
The man I didn't like came to visit and I still don't like him.
The man in white is a doctor, he's crying a lot, saying for me.
I can't move out of the bed, mother said something about a tumor.
I'm about to die, but I admit that the man I never liked, my step-father touched me inappropriately.
I struggle on, trying to make the best of a bad situation, needles and all.
My step-father is prosecuted and sent to jail for life, and now my eyes lay down forever. | |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | In the winter of 1980, my anxious mother gives birth to me, a baby girl. I am a shy and careful toddler who talks early and walks late. My mother is pregnant again. The day my brother is born, my grandmother takes me to the hospital to visit, but I refuse to enter because there is a clown in the lobby. One of my preschool classmates has a mother who is a midget, and I find her almost as frightening as the lobby clown. My family moves to a nicer town with a better school system.
I start kindergarten and have two best friends, a boy who lives in the house behind mine, and a girl who is in my class. I learn to read, tell time, and, with much difficulty, add numbers. I am in the lowest reading group, because I intentionally failed the test fearing the pressure of chapter books, but state testing reveals I am reading at a high school level and I am moved. I cry over division homework, break up with both my best friends for different reasons, and put on weight. I develop severe social anxiety, and begin reading under my desk during school and binge eating peanut butter and challah sandwiches when left home alone. Things improve a little with a beagle puppy and a new friendship, but my body shame continues to increase because my mother is constantly harping on me about losing weight. At overnight camp, I am inexplicably popular, which revives some of my self confidence and allows me to widen my social circle. My friends start to like boys. My friends start to date boys, but I don’t.
I start high school, and although the first part of the year my shyness returns, by the end of the year I’ve made many new friends and joined the crew team. Sophomore year I return to school 40lbs thinner, and although I don’t know it, it is the thinnest I will ever be. I want to go to a competitive college, and obsess over my GPA, my test scores, and my extracurriculars. I early apply to my dream school, pecking out my application on my dad’s typewriter, and I am accepted.
Freshman year at a small liberal arts school in the northeast brings a wave a new and interesting friends, lots of psych and English classes, a gay first boyfriend, and 30lbs. My high school best friend and I begin a tumultuous sexual and romantic relationship. I declare a psych major and break up with my girlfriend. My girlfriend and I get back together, but have ended it again by the time I graduate.
In the shadow of 9/11, I move with friends to New York, where we get an apartment in Astoria and I work as an Assistant Librarian at a private school on the upper east side. I leave my job because the kids are miserable, spoiled people, and I wind up working at a Barnes and Noble in mid town. I don’t date, I don’t find a new job, and don’t deal with my growing obesity. After a conversation with an acquaintance who is attending library school, I look into it and decide to pursue my MLS despite my bad experience at the private school. I attend library school on a full scholarship, and lose 40 lbs doing Weight Watchers. I start working as a Children’s librarian for Queens Library, and I fall in love with the job. For the first time since college, I start dating.
There is something wrong with my voice, pain when I speak, and I have to leave my job, New York, and my friends to move back in with my parents. While I wait for my still somewhat mysterious voice pain to improve, I work in data entry, date using okcupid, and am crushingly lonely. My parents announce they are divorcing, so although my voice hasn’t really improved, I take a Children’s Librarian job again so that I can afford to move out. My voice gets somewhat better, and I meet someone on okcupid who seems like he might be real, might be something, and he is. He works two hours south of where I live, but drives up every Friday night and stays until Monday morning. We move in together, to a new apartment in a new city 1 hour south that is equidistant between our jobs. On a Saturday afternoon in early August 2015, I google “writing prompts” follow a link to a subreddit, and find myself writing one sentence for each year of my life.
| She is small. She moves with more strength each passing year. Her voice is no longer only a tool for begging. She has a voice. A fresh creature, but stronger, still.
She had a voice. Trust is an illusion. This is pain. This is what Daddy issues are made of. This will all make sense one day. (That is a lie.)
The next ten years will be a blur. My teeth are crooked. My lips are thin. My breasts are small.
My. My, my, my. I've found my voice. I'm a handful, but I'm free.
I'm the first in my family to graduate college. My best friend overdosed. I ran away to Europe.
What now?
[it's not very good, but damn if it doesn't FEEL good to write anything at all when you've been in a deep slump]
| |
[WP] Your life story, one sentence per year. | One, I've come from none
To a world of noise and light
Eleven, I pray for Heaven
On Sundays, dressed in white
Twenty-two, I fall for you
You laugh and leave me in the rain
Thirty-three, now you agree
It was wise that I tried and tried again
Forty-four, I look at her
Full of childish life and art
Fifty-five, I watch her drive
Away and happy tears fill my heart
Sixty-six, I end my tricks
And settle in for a quiet life
Seventy-seven, I curse Him in Heaven
For taking away you, my wife
Eighty-eight, I shut the gate
To where I buried my last friend
Ninety-nine, I rest my spine
And smile at the end
*This is the [tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYD-DIggB2k) I would sing this poem to, if I were able to sing*
| She is small. She moves with more strength each passing year. Her voice is no longer only a tool for begging. She has a voice. A fresh creature, but stronger, still.
She had a voice. Trust is an illusion. This is pain. This is what Daddy issues are made of. This will all make sense one day. (That is a lie.)
The next ten years will be a blur. My teeth are crooked. My lips are thin. My breasts are small.
My. My, my, my. I've found my voice. I'm a handful, but I'm free.
I'm the first in my family to graduate college. My best friend overdosed. I ran away to Europe.
What now?
[it's not very good, but damn if it doesn't FEEL good to write anything at all when you've been in a deep slump]
| |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | Nathan has recently begun to question things. Things like, what defines a vehicle?
A weird thing to ask oneself, if it wasn't for the odd daily commute which consists of pianos, horses, upside down tanks and occasionally planes. No one else seems to mind, but it's not only the fact that horses seem to be making a comeback that perturbed Nathan. At times what seemed to be some kind of bizarre natural phenomena hurled cars and people at ludicrous speeds horizontally, vertically and diagonally. If the streets were the chessboard and the cars and people pieces, it would all be on the floor by now.
Maybe god is a bad loser? Nathan didn't know if there was a god, but if there is he had most certainly seen him. Occasionally you can see an individual running at absurd speeds or flying, if it's one or more people doing this he didn't know. Maybe humans can be defined as vehicles?
Nathan continued to eat his burger, contemplating this as a man splattered onto the window, putting his earphones in with a frown to block out the sound of the explosions. | There once was a hero named Prisoner The Untitled, he once rode off from Helgen to the Lovers' Lab bed!
And there he would suck and thrust and grab, twist and turn and bite and gnaaab...
And there he met a follower named Tilda, she plowed his fields and made his life harder...
But then one day she went insane, for she claimed she was hit by Thomas the Train! | |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | We finally got to the roof of the building only to see the last chopper fly away. Fucking zombie apocalypse. Definitely not a black tie affair. Not sure why Nick is in a leisure suit. Wait, I thought he was in a leisure suit, but apparently he's cosplaying Deadpool. Were we at some sort of convention? No, I remember him climbing the stairs in that stupid suit. Coach and Rochelle are dressed up too.
"Coach," I ask, "why are you dressed like Master Chief?"
"I'm from St Louis," Coach answers, "I'm a master Ram." He grabbed a med kit and a gun.
We're not going to be picked up here. Rochelle, who I thought was black, is apparently Asian now. Whatever. These idiots are obviously playing some weird prank on me. Rochelle is thinking the same thing I am, apparently as she opens the door and charges down shooting. Deadpool giggles and follows. Wait wasn't his name Nick? He even sounds like Deadpool. Dude is seriously into cosplay.
Bang. "Bang." Bang. "Bang." Deadpool is yelling as he fires his gun. God, that's going to grow old. I come to the landing and see the hallway is full of... Zubats? Where the hell are all these pokemon from? Did the zombies turn into zubats? Anime Rochelle, Deadpool, and Master Ram start shooting their way through the zubat apocalypse. I join in but were getting overwhelmed.
Rochelle throws a pokeball. Is she trying to catch a zubat? No, it seems to be filled with some putrid smelling crap that attracts them. I take advantage of the distraction to use a med kit. Apparently someone dropped an iPod in here because I hear Marvin Gaye while I bandage up.
"Hey, that's my favorite bullet," Deadpool yells at one of the Zubat. "Can you send it back? Okay, just hold onto it then." I'm starting to worry about him.
"Nasty, filthy hobbitses stoles it," I hear muttering from a closet. Well, I guess my companion Nick isn't the only cosplayer who went mad with the Zubat attack. I open the door only to have Gollum jump on me screaming for his precious.
I fall into a cloud of zubats trying to get Gollum off me. Rochelle starts shooting at me. Well, in fairness she could be shooting at the asshole dressed like Gollum, but she's hitting both of us. With everyone shooting I'm in rough shape.
"Here, you need this," Coach or Master St Louis Rams or whatever he wants to go by says as he hands me.... Flintstone vitamins? Well sure, I guess I can use an iron supplement after losing so much blood. I shrug my shoulders and am hit from behind by what feels like a freight train. Rolling on the ground I see Wreck-It Ralph reaching for me. I feel the sweet oblivion of death wash over me as Ralph pounds me into the ground. I seem to still have that iPod, as I hear 'When Can I See You Again' playing softly, a suitable lullaby as death saves me from descending any deeper into madness. | There once was a hero named Prisoner The Untitled, he once rode off from Helgen to the Lovers' Lab bed!
And there he would suck and thrust and grab, twist and turn and bite and gnaaab...
And there he met a follower named Tilda, she plowed his fields and made his life harder...
But then one day she went insane, for she claimed she was hit by Thomas the Train! | |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | "That does it, I've got to get to the bottom of this" Chris muttered to himself.
It was this enclave soldier's seventh day on the job, and he already felt like he was going mad. After the fourth day, every time he tried to converse with his partner Johnson, the only conversation topics that were be proposed involved sexual intercourse.
His armor felt different than the one he had suited up in from the day before. He felt different. Could this be radiation sickness? Was he already dead? Chris knew when he took on this job that it would place him in perilous situations, but he never expected to go mad. Not like this.
And that was when he saw it. A wanderer strolling and jumping, barely visible through a sandstorm that spontaneously appeared. He was followed by dark figures, what Chris imagined were angels of death. Chris called out to Johnson, only to see that he had completely undressed and was in the process of running in the wanderer's direction.
Before Chris could move, he felt a dart hit him in his left shoulder, and was immediately immobilized. All he could do was watch the dark figures approach him. As his vision started to blur, he saw a figure running ahead of the pack. To his surprise it was Johnson, wearing a slave collar and some strange leather piece of clothing, clearly exposing a massive, disproportionate erect penis.
Chris pleaded to his partner, to remember his enclave vows, to remember the life that he had led until this point. to remember the dream of a better, pure America, but to no avail. His last moments were spent receiving multiple lead pipe beatings from his closest friend, assisted by a harem of strange, equally undressed women with massively disproportionate eyes, speaking a language that he had never heard before. | There once was a hero named Prisoner The Untitled, he once rode off from Helgen to the Lovers' Lab bed!
And there he would suck and thrust and grab, twist and turn and bite and gnaaab...
And there he met a follower named Tilda, she plowed his fields and made his life harder...
But then one day she went insane, for she claimed she was hit by Thomas the Train! | |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | We finally got to the roof of the building only to see the last chopper fly away. Fucking zombie apocalypse. Definitely not a black tie affair. Not sure why Nick is in a leisure suit. Wait, I thought he was in a leisure suit, but apparently he's cosplaying Deadpool. Were we at some sort of convention? No, I remember him climbing the stairs in that stupid suit. Coach and Rochelle are dressed up too.
"Coach," I ask, "why are you dressed like Master Chief?"
"I'm from St Louis," Coach answers, "I'm a master Ram." He grabbed a med kit and a gun.
We're not going to be picked up here. Rochelle, who I thought was black, is apparently Asian now. Whatever. These idiots are obviously playing some weird prank on me. Rochelle is thinking the same thing I am, apparently as she opens the door and charges down shooting. Deadpool giggles and follows. Wait wasn't his name Nick? He even sounds like Deadpool. Dude is seriously into cosplay.
Bang. "Bang." Bang. "Bang." Deadpool is yelling as he fires his gun. God, that's going to grow old. I come to the landing and see the hallway is full of... Zubats? Where the hell are all these pokemon from? Did the zombies turn into zubats? Anime Rochelle, Deadpool, and Master Ram start shooting their way through the zubat apocalypse. I join in but were getting overwhelmed.
Rochelle throws a pokeball. Is she trying to catch a zubat? No, it seems to be filled with some putrid smelling crap that attracts them. I take advantage of the distraction to use a med kit. Apparently someone dropped an iPod in here because I hear Marvin Gaye while I bandage up.
"Hey, that's my favorite bullet," Deadpool yells at one of the Zubat. "Can you send it back? Okay, just hold onto it then." I'm starting to worry about him.
"Nasty, filthy hobbitses stoles it," I hear muttering from a closet. Well, I guess my companion Nick isn't the only cosplayer who went mad with the Zubat attack. I open the door only to have Gollum jump on me screaming for his precious.
I fall into a cloud of zubats trying to get Gollum off me. Rochelle starts shooting at me. Well, in fairness she could be shooting at the asshole dressed like Gollum, but she's hitting both of us. With everyone shooting I'm in rough shape.
"Here, you need this," Coach or Master St Louis Rams or whatever he wants to go by says as he hands me.... Flintstone vitamins? Well sure, I guess I can use an iron supplement after losing so much blood. I shrug my shoulders and am hit from behind by what feels like a freight train. Rolling on the ground I see Wreck-It Ralph reaching for me. I feel the sweet oblivion of death wash over me as Ralph pounds me into the ground. I seem to still have that iPod, as I hear 'When Can I See You Again' playing softly, a suitable lullaby as death saves me from descending any deeper into madness. | The Doomsday fleet advanced a few more klicks toward the Terran Alliance. Their demise swift approaching. The mighty Terran Armada, over 200 space faring ships strong, was on the far side of the human's ever expanding empire. A strategy historians may one day call the great and fatal mistake of the Human race.
But Akari Malara, leader of the Altarian race knew better. She was the one that agreed to the 1000 cycles of peace. The Terran and Altarian history was filled with legends and stories of the two weaker races working together to over come the horrors the universe has unleashed. The Humans had no reason to fear.
That is, until the day their esteemed leader tried to warp the laws of the galaxy. This one event sent shock waves through out the cosmos. One ripple distorted the memories of past treaties and shared history from the minds of every Altarian.
Another cosmic wave warped the military production of the Altarian race. Akari Malara had no recollection of authorizing the research into to a "Ultra Mega Civilization Destroying OMG This Is So AWESOME!!!!" Bomb. But the Galactic Nation of the Human was about to find out how truly awesome it is.
| |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | "That does it, I've got to get to the bottom of this" Chris muttered to himself.
It was this enclave soldier's seventh day on the job, and he already felt like he was going mad. After the fourth day, every time he tried to converse with his partner Johnson, the only conversation topics that were be proposed involved sexual intercourse.
His armor felt different than the one he had suited up in from the day before. He felt different. Could this be radiation sickness? Was he already dead? Chris knew when he took on this job that it would place him in perilous situations, but he never expected to go mad. Not like this.
And that was when he saw it. A wanderer strolling and jumping, barely visible through a sandstorm that spontaneously appeared. He was followed by dark figures, what Chris imagined were angels of death. Chris called out to Johnson, only to see that he had completely undressed and was in the process of running in the wanderer's direction.
Before Chris could move, he felt a dart hit him in his left shoulder, and was immediately immobilized. All he could do was watch the dark figures approach him. As his vision started to blur, he saw a figure running ahead of the pack. To his surprise it was Johnson, wearing a slave collar and some strange leather piece of clothing, clearly exposing a massive, disproportionate erect penis.
Chris pleaded to his partner, to remember his enclave vows, to remember the life that he had led until this point. to remember the dream of a better, pure America, but to no avail. His last moments were spent receiving multiple lead pipe beatings from his closest friend, assisted by a harem of strange, equally undressed women with massively disproportionate eyes, speaking a language that he had never heard before. | The Doomsday fleet advanced a few more klicks toward the Terran Alliance. Their demise swift approaching. The mighty Terran Armada, over 200 space faring ships strong, was on the far side of the human's ever expanding empire. A strategy historians may one day call the great and fatal mistake of the Human race.
But Akari Malara, leader of the Altarian race knew better. She was the one that agreed to the 1000 cycles of peace. The Terran and Altarian history was filled with legends and stories of the two weaker races working together to over come the horrors the universe has unleashed. The Humans had no reason to fear.
That is, until the day their esteemed leader tried to warp the laws of the galaxy. This one event sent shock waves through out the cosmos. One ripple distorted the memories of past treaties and shared history from the minds of every Altarian.
Another cosmic wave warped the military production of the Altarian race. Akari Malara had no recollection of authorizing the research into to a "Ultra Mega Civilization Destroying OMG This Is So AWESOME!!!!" Bomb. But the Galactic Nation of the Human was about to find out how truly awesome it is.
| |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | "That does it, I've got to get to the bottom of this" Chris muttered to himself.
It was this enclave soldier's seventh day on the job, and he already felt like he was going mad. After the fourth day, every time he tried to converse with his partner Johnson, the only conversation topics that were be proposed involved sexual intercourse.
His armor felt different than the one he had suited up in from the day before. He felt different. Could this be radiation sickness? Was he already dead? Chris knew when he took on this job that it would place him in perilous situations, but he never expected to go mad. Not like this.
And that was when he saw it. A wanderer strolling and jumping, barely visible through a sandstorm that spontaneously appeared. He was followed by dark figures, what Chris imagined were angels of death. Chris called out to Johnson, only to see that he had completely undressed and was in the process of running in the wanderer's direction.
Before Chris could move, he felt a dart hit him in his left shoulder, and was immediately immobilized. All he could do was watch the dark figures approach him. As his vision started to blur, he saw a figure running ahead of the pack. To his surprise it was Johnson, wearing a slave collar and some strange leather piece of clothing, clearly exposing a massive, disproportionate erect penis.
Chris pleaded to his partner, to remember his enclave vows, to remember the life that he had led until this point. to remember the dream of a better, pure America, but to no avail. His last moments were spent receiving multiple lead pipe beatings from his closest friend, assisted by a harem of strange, equally undressed women with massively disproportionate eyes, speaking a language that he had never heard before. | We finally got to the roof of the building only to see the last chopper fly away. Fucking zombie apocalypse. Definitely not a black tie affair. Not sure why Nick is in a leisure suit. Wait, I thought he was in a leisure suit, but apparently he's cosplaying Deadpool. Were we at some sort of convention? No, I remember him climbing the stairs in that stupid suit. Coach and Rochelle are dressed up too.
"Coach," I ask, "why are you dressed like Master Chief?"
"I'm from St Louis," Coach answers, "I'm a master Ram." He grabbed a med kit and a gun.
We're not going to be picked up here. Rochelle, who I thought was black, is apparently Asian now. Whatever. These idiots are obviously playing some weird prank on me. Rochelle is thinking the same thing I am, apparently as she opens the door and charges down shooting. Deadpool giggles and follows. Wait wasn't his name Nick? He even sounds like Deadpool. Dude is seriously into cosplay.
Bang. "Bang." Bang. "Bang." Deadpool is yelling as he fires his gun. God, that's going to grow old. I come to the landing and see the hallway is full of... Zubats? Where the hell are all these pokemon from? Did the zombies turn into zubats? Anime Rochelle, Deadpool, and Master Ram start shooting their way through the zubat apocalypse. I join in but were getting overwhelmed.
Rochelle throws a pokeball. Is she trying to catch a zubat? No, it seems to be filled with some putrid smelling crap that attracts them. I take advantage of the distraction to use a med kit. Apparently someone dropped an iPod in here because I hear Marvin Gaye while I bandage up.
"Hey, that's my favorite bullet," Deadpool yells at one of the Zubat. "Can you send it back? Okay, just hold onto it then." I'm starting to worry about him.
"Nasty, filthy hobbitses stoles it," I hear muttering from a closet. Well, I guess my companion Nick isn't the only cosplayer who went mad with the Zubat attack. I open the door only to have Gollum jump on me screaming for his precious.
I fall into a cloud of zubats trying to get Gollum off me. Rochelle starts shooting at me. Well, in fairness she could be shooting at the asshole dressed like Gollum, but she's hitting both of us. With everyone shooting I'm in rough shape.
"Here, you need this," Coach or Master St Louis Rams or whatever he wants to go by says as he hands me.... Flintstone vitamins? Well sure, I guess I can use an iron supplement after losing so much blood. I shrug my shoulders and am hit from behind by what feels like a freight train. Rolling on the ground I see Wreck-It Ralph reaching for me. I feel the sweet oblivion of death wash over me as Ralph pounds me into the ground. I seem to still have that iPod, as I hear 'When Can I See You Again' playing softly, a suitable lullaby as death saves me from descending any deeper into madness. | |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | “Bill? Bill. Bill did you just see that?”
Bill sighed and rubbed his forehead. Craig was seriously starting to get on his nerves today.
“See what, Craig?”
Craig wildly waved his hands in the direction of the PC.
“Dude! The PC has a sword made of light! It’s blue! And he flew in on a giant...dog...thing with a creepy face on it! What do you mean ‘see what, Craig’? Are you bonkers?”
Bill rolled his eyes for possibly the seven thousandth time that day and marched off to do his patrol route – fortunately he got away from Craig every forty-five seconds for exactly twenty-three seconds each time.
Thirty-seven minutes later he saw Craig running full speed from the village toward where Bill was patiently walking.
“Bill! Where have you been!? The PC blew up a building! Those buildings have been indestructible for… for… centuries! We’ve had dragons that couldn’t hurt those buildings, and he just waved his hand and the general store went flying! I don’t get it Bill. Everything’s going crazy!”
Monica sighed and rubbed her forehead, noticing for the first time that her ample bosom made this rather difficult. Craig was seriously starting to get on her nerves today.
“Craig. Buddy. Everything is totally normal. What is your problem?”
Monica rolled her eyes and adjusted her hilariously small undergarments for possibly the seven thousandth time that day and marched off in a random direction, wondering who the hell “Bill” was.
| "I thought the dragons were bad enough, now there's a gentleman calling himself 'Spiderman' crafting 600 iron daggers every day and stealing all my goods when I turn my back to him. Lowly times these are...." | |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | "Tits?"
"Yeah, what in Oblivion is going on with all the giant tits?" asked Faendal.
"I didn't notice anything" responded Alvor, confused.
"Really? You didn't notice the fact that your wife suddenly has boobs bigger her head? Or the fact that her clothing is now some strange dominatrix type stuff? I mean, look around the damn neighborhood. There were never this many buildings in Riverwood prior to last night. Now suddenly we have a dozen new neighbors and there's just houses everywhere?"
"Faendal, I'm pretty sure you've just had a rough night at the Sleeping Giant. Maybe you need to go lie down for a while. I'll still be here by the forge if you need me."
Faendal left Alvor to his blacksmithing duties. He decided to walk out of town, towards the forest near Lake Ilinalta, to do some hunting.
As he walked through the woods, he saw the Dragonborn, who had helped him win over Camilla Valerius, the love of his life. He decided to seek his assistance.
"Hey, Dragonborn! I need your help. It's as if I'm going crazy. There's tits and houses and stuff everywhere. Hell, right now you're wearing a set of armor that I don't think I've ever seen before. I mean, it doesn't look like it's even from this world. The material looks all blurry and blocky. I think I'm going crazy. It must be a spell that Sheogorath has placed on me or something of the like. I need your help. Please."
The Dragonborn stared at him in complete silence. And in a moment, a small, transparent window covered a third of Faendal's vision. He was paralyzed. All he could do was watch as an arrow floated over him, numbers appeared in the corner of his sight, and the word "disable" appeared letter by letter before him.
And in an instant, Faendal was gone forever. | "I thought the dragons were bad enough, now there's a gentleman calling himself 'Spiderman' crafting 600 iron daggers every day and stealing all my goods when I turn my back to him. Lowly times these are...." | |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | “Bill? Bill. Bill did you just see that?”
Bill sighed and rubbed his forehead. Craig was seriously starting to get on his nerves today.
“See what, Craig?”
Craig wildly waved his hands in the direction of the PC.
“Dude! The PC has a sword made of light! It’s blue! And he flew in on a giant...dog...thing with a creepy face on it! What do you mean ‘see what, Craig’? Are you bonkers?”
Bill rolled his eyes for possibly the seven thousandth time that day and marched off to do his patrol route – fortunately he got away from Craig every forty-five seconds for exactly twenty-three seconds each time.
Thirty-seven minutes later he saw Craig running full speed from the village toward where Bill was patiently walking.
“Bill! Where have you been!? The PC blew up a building! Those buildings have been indestructible for… for… centuries! We’ve had dragons that couldn’t hurt those buildings, and he just waved his hand and the general store went flying! I don’t get it Bill. Everything’s going crazy!”
Monica sighed and rubbed her forehead, noticing for the first time that her ample bosom made this rather difficult. Craig was seriously starting to get on her nerves today.
“Craig. Buddy. Everything is totally normal. What is your problem?”
Monica rolled her eyes and adjusted her hilariously small undergarments for possibly the seven thousandth time that day and marched off in a random direction, wondering who the hell “Bill” was.
| This was no longer his world.
His isolation had been tempered only by the fact that the mindlessness of the world around him, the desire to destroy and build and live and prosper deafened the overwhelming loneliness.
No one could understand why he stood there staring at the patch of grass that looked so disturbingly different from what he was used to. He was the master of his domain but something was changing rapidly.
This face didn't feel like his own, these new pellet propulsion systems didn't feel like his own and the animals he had grown to love weren't behaving like they normally did. He could feel when a new change was coming as well, parts of his memory would fog, his mind would begin to slip and then when he came back something was different.
He didn't always know what it was, unless it was something glaring like a wall of white and weird colors in the distance, but even that too would be replaced with something similar, but not quite comfortable.
He was growing more and more powerful but could understand none of his newfound strength, none of the new runes he found on his once prized weapons. He feared them now, but needed them to tackle the new challenges of the world.
He was alone with these thoughts, at least until the last modification. In his backpack sat a strangely colored orb. He cradled it cautiously but could feel a life pulsing within. This was no ordinary creature, this was something new, entirely different from what he'd known before.
Frightened by the prospect of what was inside, knowing this could be a new challenge he threw the ball to the far corner of his chicken farm. It didn't crack, it didn't hover, it didn't fall, it simply opened with a blast of energy.
What stood next to the fallen red and white orb was a furry creature with a bright yellow tail.
As he approached it with his diamond sword drawn and poked the tip of the sword into it's chest, the creature fell on its back and giggled "Pika pika".
"Pika?" he said, having had no purpose to use his voice beforehand, and forgetting the strange sounds his throat could make, "I am Steve". | |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | "Tits?"
"Yeah, what in Oblivion is going on with all the giant tits?" asked Faendal.
"I didn't notice anything" responded Alvor, confused.
"Really? You didn't notice the fact that your wife suddenly has boobs bigger her head? Or the fact that her clothing is now some strange dominatrix type stuff? I mean, look around the damn neighborhood. There were never this many buildings in Riverwood prior to last night. Now suddenly we have a dozen new neighbors and there's just houses everywhere?"
"Faendal, I'm pretty sure you've just had a rough night at the Sleeping Giant. Maybe you need to go lie down for a while. I'll still be here by the forge if you need me."
Faendal left Alvor to his blacksmithing duties. He decided to walk out of town, towards the forest near Lake Ilinalta, to do some hunting.
As he walked through the woods, he saw the Dragonborn, who had helped him win over Camilla Valerius, the love of his life. He decided to seek his assistance.
"Hey, Dragonborn! I need your help. It's as if I'm going crazy. There's tits and houses and stuff everywhere. Hell, right now you're wearing a set of armor that I don't think I've ever seen before. I mean, it doesn't look like it's even from this world. The material looks all blurry and blocky. I think I'm going crazy. It must be a spell that Sheogorath has placed on me or something of the like. I need your help. Please."
The Dragonborn stared at him in complete silence. And in a moment, a small, transparent window covered a third of Faendal's vision. He was paralyzed. All he could do was watch as an arrow floated over him, numbers appeared in the corner of his sight, and the word "disable" appeared letter by letter before him.
And in an instant, Faendal was gone forever. | This was no longer his world.
His isolation had been tempered only by the fact that the mindlessness of the world around him, the desire to destroy and build and live and prosper deafened the overwhelming loneliness.
No one could understand why he stood there staring at the patch of grass that looked so disturbingly different from what he was used to. He was the master of his domain but something was changing rapidly.
This face didn't feel like his own, these new pellet propulsion systems didn't feel like his own and the animals he had grown to love weren't behaving like they normally did. He could feel when a new change was coming as well, parts of his memory would fog, his mind would begin to slip and then when he came back something was different.
He didn't always know what it was, unless it was something glaring like a wall of white and weird colors in the distance, but even that too would be replaced with something similar, but not quite comfortable.
He was growing more and more powerful but could understand none of his newfound strength, none of the new runes he found on his once prized weapons. He feared them now, but needed them to tackle the new challenges of the world.
He was alone with these thoughts, at least until the last modification. In his backpack sat a strangely colored orb. He cradled it cautiously but could feel a life pulsing within. This was no ordinary creature, this was something new, entirely different from what he'd known before.
Frightened by the prospect of what was inside, knowing this could be a new challenge he threw the ball to the far corner of his chicken farm. It didn't crack, it didn't hover, it didn't fall, it simply opened with a blast of energy.
What stood next to the fallen red and white orb was a furry creature with a bright yellow tail.
As he approached it with his diamond sword drawn and poked the tip of the sword into it's chest, the creature fell on its back and giggled "Pika pika".
"Pika?" he said, having had no purpose to use his voice beforehand, and forgetting the strange sounds his throat could make, "I am Steve". | |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | "Tits?"
"Yeah, what in Oblivion is going on with all the giant tits?" asked Faendal.
"I didn't notice anything" responded Alvor, confused.
"Really? You didn't notice the fact that your wife suddenly has boobs bigger her head? Or the fact that her clothing is now some strange dominatrix type stuff? I mean, look around the damn neighborhood. There were never this many buildings in Riverwood prior to last night. Now suddenly we have a dozen new neighbors and there's just houses everywhere?"
"Faendal, I'm pretty sure you've just had a rough night at the Sleeping Giant. Maybe you need to go lie down for a while. I'll still be here by the forge if you need me."
Faendal left Alvor to his blacksmithing duties. He decided to walk out of town, towards the forest near Lake Ilinalta, to do some hunting.
As he walked through the woods, he saw the Dragonborn, who had helped him win over Camilla Valerius, the love of his life. He decided to seek his assistance.
"Hey, Dragonborn! I need your help. It's as if I'm going crazy. There's tits and houses and stuff everywhere. Hell, right now you're wearing a set of armor that I don't think I've ever seen before. I mean, it doesn't look like it's even from this world. The material looks all blurry and blocky. I think I'm going crazy. It must be a spell that Sheogorath has placed on me or something of the like. I need your help. Please."
The Dragonborn stared at him in complete silence. And in a moment, a small, transparent window covered a third of Faendal's vision. He was paralyzed. All he could do was watch as an arrow floated over him, numbers appeared in the corner of his sight, and the word "disable" appeared letter by letter before him.
And in an instant, Faendal was gone forever. | "Steady..Steady..Gotcha.."
A loud blast from his .50 cal rang in his ears as he placed a perfect headshot against the player, a long awaited kill he had been gunning for, after the last 21 respawns since the level had started. He drooped his gun, carefully eyeing the player, waiting to see his corpse drop to the floor but...
Bang!
Enemy_Jack has been eliminated!
100 Consecutive Kills Achievement has been unlocked!
He dropped to the floor in one bundle of mess, blood sipping from his left eye socket as the Level Up music echoed through the room. He begrudgingly woke up from the cold concrete of the wood factory, as he grabbed his modified rainbow colored rifle slowly dragging himself to his next respawn point closely followed by his fellow NPC comrades.
"150 kills my fucking ass," Jack cursed under his breathe as he listened to the gun shots zipping in the level above.
"I had a clear headshot, perfect headshot but the guy didnt budge ", he gestured the shot to Enemy_171, whose attention seemed somewhere else.
"Last time Enemy_23 threw a grenade right into his torso, but the fucker just stared like an unaffected maniarch and blew Enemy_123's face right into oblivion, and thats after the grenade was supposed to have blown him into bits! Are you even listening?" Jack flailed his arms, expressing his frustration as they stood in their respective spawn coordinates, but his listener's gaze seemed lost, mindless like a zombie just like the other NPCs around him.
He sighed, as he realized none of them could feel his pain, his frustration, as he remembered was the only one modified to have a sentient AI. He stared at his spawn timer. Ten seconds till he went back into the field as a random enemy character, in a random map, with an indestructible modified player.
Map_14 has loaded!
Begin!
Bang!
Enemy_Jack has been eliminated!
EDIT: Posted on phone, sorry for the formatting | |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | Outside the hut of Groblob the Unshakeable, in the town of Riversend, in the country of Laravel, on the continent of the evergreen goddess, sat Groblob
And Groblob was losing his mind.
Grob, as he preferred to be called by his ~~friends~~ enemies, was sat on his favourite thinking stump contemplating the Ferrari 458 spider parked at a severe ninety degree angle in the middle of the village. This box of metal was of course completely alien to him, he only knew its name thanks to the adventurer, his mortal enemy should they ever complete the quest (a task that has been neglected for several months), espousing its virtues to the improbably buxom succubi currently surrounding it.
This would be more confusing to Grob, had this been only the first occurrence of reality taking a swan dive from the apparently flaky precipice of sanity. In the several months since he found his true calling as an amateur nemesis and all round ill-doer, reality has departed from reason no less than four hundred and ninety seven times on his doorstep alone. For several weeks, the village was entirely populated by men with red and white stripey jumpers and bobble hats. This was succeeded by a plague of flaming cattle, no less than a dozen instances of everything turning to cheese, the sky turning purple, everyone speaking in goat and a particularly arduous few days where everything, *everything*, was inverted.
Grob looked at his woodshed, which still bore the scars from that particular incident.
THe succubi were now cooing in unison as the adventurer began to levitate and rocket off at an awkward angle into the sky, only to reappear seconds later in the metal box. This trick earned him excited applause. He then exited the box picked it up with one hand and launched it into Grobs hut, utterly demolishing it, ejecting his front door at incredible speed straight over his head (shaving his painstakingly crafted mohawk clean from his scalp) straight at the adventurer who turned it into a seven foot cockerel.
Then everything turned to cheese.
Again.
| "Steady..Steady..Gotcha.."
A loud blast from his .50 cal rang in his ears as he placed a perfect headshot against the player, a long awaited kill he had been gunning for, after the last 21 respawns since the level had started. He drooped his gun, carefully eyeing the player, waiting to see his corpse drop to the floor but...
Bang!
Enemy_Jack has been eliminated!
100 Consecutive Kills Achievement has been unlocked!
He dropped to the floor in one bundle of mess, blood sipping from his left eye socket as the Level Up music echoed through the room. He begrudgingly woke up from the cold concrete of the wood factory, as he grabbed his modified rainbow colored rifle slowly dragging himself to his next respawn point closely followed by his fellow NPC comrades.
"150 kills my fucking ass," Jack cursed under his breathe as he listened to the gun shots zipping in the level above.
"I had a clear headshot, perfect headshot but the guy didnt budge ", he gestured the shot to Enemy_171, whose attention seemed somewhere else.
"Last time Enemy_23 threw a grenade right into his torso, but the fucker just stared like an unaffected maniarch and blew Enemy_123's face right into oblivion, and thats after the grenade was supposed to have blown him into bits! Are you even listening?" Jack flailed his arms, expressing his frustration as they stood in their respective spawn coordinates, but his listener's gaze seemed lost, mindless like a zombie just like the other NPCs around him.
He sighed, as he realized none of them could feel his pain, his frustration, as he remembered was the only one modified to have a sentient AI. He stared at his spawn timer. Ten seconds till he went back into the field as a random enemy character, in a random map, with an indestructible modified player.
Map_14 has loaded!
Begin!
Bang!
Enemy_Jack has been eliminated!
EDIT: Posted on phone, sorry for the formatting | |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | The guard was standing at his post.
Everyday, he stood at that same spot, talking to adventurers asking them why they wish to pass.
This guard was like them too, an adventurer, but since he got married, he was forced to take a less eventful and more boring job.
Today was different, there had been recent sightings of beasts in the sky, 60-foot fire hazards, screams of terror could be heard from afar everytime the beast was seen.
The guard was admiring his sword when the distant rumbling began. He paid no attention to it, could be a caravan passing through he thought. But as the sound grew stronger, his fear grew with it.
It grew, the sound, until nothing was audible. The guard heard a sound like hissing water, only more vicious and fiery. He caught a glimpse of the terror, it wasn't like other beasts, it breathed fire from it's two small heads attached to small wing that didn't move.
He soon saw fires in the distance, he heard screams of burning agony and pain. He had to leave his post to make sure his family was alive.
The guard ran as fast as he could to the house he built with his wife from stones from the mountain and the finest timber from the woods.
He looked, with great horror as he watches his family burn alive. With rage, he took his bow and aimed at the beast, the dark green hide of the beast was too strong, the arrow bounced off.
He fired until his quiver was empty. All shots, failed to penetrate. He then saw the beast turn to him, he saw blasts of fire from the beast's many mouths. The guard seems to accept his fate, cursed at the wind and let go.
-----------------------------------
30 Minuites later...
"Hey fag, this helicopter mod you gave me is shit. Only one type of missile and no guns?"
| "Steady..Steady..Gotcha.."
A loud blast from his .50 cal rang in his ears as he placed a perfect headshot against the player, a long awaited kill he had been gunning for, after the last 21 respawns since the level had started. He drooped his gun, carefully eyeing the player, waiting to see his corpse drop to the floor but...
Bang!
Enemy_Jack has been eliminated!
100 Consecutive Kills Achievement has been unlocked!
He dropped to the floor in one bundle of mess, blood sipping from his left eye socket as the Level Up music echoed through the room. He begrudgingly woke up from the cold concrete of the wood factory, as he grabbed his modified rainbow colored rifle slowly dragging himself to his next respawn point closely followed by his fellow NPC comrades.
"150 kills my fucking ass," Jack cursed under his breathe as he listened to the gun shots zipping in the level above.
"I had a clear headshot, perfect headshot but the guy didnt budge ", he gestured the shot to Enemy_171, whose attention seemed somewhere else.
"Last time Enemy_23 threw a grenade right into his torso, but the fucker just stared like an unaffected maniarch and blew Enemy_123's face right into oblivion, and thats after the grenade was supposed to have blown him into bits! Are you even listening?" Jack flailed his arms, expressing his frustration as they stood in their respective spawn coordinates, but his listener's gaze seemed lost, mindless like a zombie just like the other NPCs around him.
He sighed, as he realized none of them could feel his pain, his frustration, as he remembered was the only one modified to have a sentient AI. He stared at his spawn timer. Ten seconds till he went back into the field as a random enemy character, in a random map, with an indestructible modified player.
Map_14 has loaded!
Begin!
Bang!
Enemy_Jack has been eliminated!
EDIT: Posted on phone, sorry for the formatting | |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | "Tits?"
"Yeah, what in Oblivion is going on with all the giant tits?" asked Faendal.
"I didn't notice anything" responded Alvor, confused.
"Really? You didn't notice the fact that your wife suddenly has boobs bigger her head? Or the fact that her clothing is now some strange dominatrix type stuff? I mean, look around the damn neighborhood. There were never this many buildings in Riverwood prior to last night. Now suddenly we have a dozen new neighbors and there's just houses everywhere?"
"Faendal, I'm pretty sure you've just had a rough night at the Sleeping Giant. Maybe you need to go lie down for a while. I'll still be here by the forge if you need me."
Faendal left Alvor to his blacksmithing duties. He decided to walk out of town, towards the forest near Lake Ilinalta, to do some hunting.
As he walked through the woods, he saw the Dragonborn, who had helped him win over Camilla Valerius, the love of his life. He decided to seek his assistance.
"Hey, Dragonborn! I need your help. It's as if I'm going crazy. There's tits and houses and stuff everywhere. Hell, right now you're wearing a set of armor that I don't think I've ever seen before. I mean, it doesn't look like it's even from this world. The material looks all blurry and blocky. I think I'm going crazy. It must be a spell that Sheogorath has placed on me or something of the like. I need your help. Please."
The Dragonborn stared at him in complete silence. And in a moment, a small, transparent window covered a third of Faendal's vision. He was paralyzed. All he could do was watch as an arrow floated over him, numbers appeared in the corner of his sight, and the word "disable" appeared letter by letter before him.
And in an instant, Faendal was gone forever. | “Bill? Bill. Bill did you just see that?”
Bill sighed and rubbed his forehead. Craig was seriously starting to get on his nerves today.
“See what, Craig?”
Craig wildly waved his hands in the direction of the PC.
“Dude! The PC has a sword made of light! It’s blue! And he flew in on a giant...dog...thing with a creepy face on it! What do you mean ‘see what, Craig’? Are you bonkers?”
Bill rolled his eyes for possibly the seven thousandth time that day and marched off to do his patrol route – fortunately he got away from Craig every forty-five seconds for exactly twenty-three seconds each time.
Thirty-seven minutes later he saw Craig running full speed from the village toward where Bill was patiently walking.
“Bill! Where have you been!? The PC blew up a building! Those buildings have been indestructible for… for… centuries! We’ve had dragons that couldn’t hurt those buildings, and he just waved his hand and the general store went flying! I don’t get it Bill. Everything’s going crazy!”
Monica sighed and rubbed her forehead, noticing for the first time that her ample bosom made this rather difficult. Craig was seriously starting to get on her nerves today.
“Craig. Buddy. Everything is totally normal. What is your problem?”
Monica rolled her eyes and adjusted her hilariously small undergarments for possibly the seven thousandth time that day and marched off in a random direction, wondering who the hell “Bill” was.
| |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice. | The guard was standing at his post.
Everyday, he stood at that same spot, talking to adventurers asking them why they wish to pass.
This guard was like them too, an adventurer, but since he got married, he was forced to take a less eventful and more boring job.
Today was different, there had been recent sightings of beasts in the sky, 60-foot fire hazards, screams of terror could be heard from afar everytime the beast was seen.
The guard was admiring his sword when the distant rumbling began. He paid no attention to it, could be a caravan passing through he thought. But as the sound grew stronger, his fear grew with it.
It grew, the sound, until nothing was audible. The guard heard a sound like hissing water, only more vicious and fiery. He caught a glimpse of the terror, it wasn't like other beasts, it breathed fire from it's two small heads attached to small wing that didn't move.
He soon saw fires in the distance, he heard screams of burning agony and pain. He had to leave his post to make sure his family was alive.
The guard ran as fast as he could to the house he built with his wife from stones from the mountain and the finest timber from the woods.
He looked, with great horror as he watches his family burn alive. With rage, he took his bow and aimed at the beast, the dark green hide of the beast was too strong, the arrow bounced off.
He fired until his quiver was empty. All shots, failed to penetrate. He then saw the beast turn to him, he saw blasts of fire from the beast's many mouths. The guard seems to accept his fate, cursed at the wind and let go.
-----------------------------------
30 Minuites later...
"Hey fag, this helicopter mod you gave me is shit. Only one type of missile and no guns?"
| Outside the hut of Groblob the Unshakeable, in the town of Riversend, in the country of Laravel, on the continent of the evergreen goddess, sat Groblob
And Groblob was losing his mind.
Grob, as he preferred to be called by his ~~friends~~ enemies, was sat on his favourite thinking stump contemplating the Ferrari 458 spider parked at a severe ninety degree angle in the middle of the village. This box of metal was of course completely alien to him, he only knew its name thanks to the adventurer, his mortal enemy should they ever complete the quest (a task that has been neglected for several months), espousing its virtues to the improbably buxom succubi currently surrounding it.
This would be more confusing to Grob, had this been only the first occurrence of reality taking a swan dive from the apparently flaky precipice of sanity. In the several months since he found his true calling as an amateur nemesis and all round ill-doer, reality has departed from reason no less than four hundred and ninety seven times on his doorstep alone. For several weeks, the village was entirely populated by men with red and white stripey jumpers and bobble hats. This was succeeded by a plague of flaming cattle, no less than a dozen instances of everything turning to cheese, the sky turning purple, everyone speaking in goat and a particularly arduous few days where everything, *everything*, was inverted.
Grob looked at his woodshed, which still bore the scars from that particular incident.
THe succubi were now cooing in unison as the adventurer began to levitate and rocket off at an awkward angle into the sky, only to reappear seconds later in the metal box. This trick earned him excited applause. He then exited the box picked it up with one hand and launched it into Grobs hut, utterly demolishing it, ejecting his front door at incredible speed straight over his head (shaving his painstakingly crafted mohawk clean from his scalp) straight at the adventurer who turned it into a seven foot cockerel.
Then everything turned to cheese.
Again.
| |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Stupid little lamp! Where did you even come from?"
I threw it back across the musty basement towards the questionably stable wooden stairs. Even more trash bags would be necessary of they ever collapsed. They would have to be tended to, but first this collection of junk before me. The way things were precariously stacked, it was reminiscent of the Room of Requirement.
"I wish I knew a spell to help tidy this place up" I announced to nothing.
Suddenly, like an intende pain, sharper than the hottest branding iron. Searing pain, burned into letters. Agony released by tears, my eyes opened. The world was encompassed by a new filter- words. No, maybe symbols. They were almost archaic in nature. Glowing red, everywhere I looked I saw them. Trying to make them out, my mouh moved on its own. The words took root in what may have been Latin.
I blinked, and the bright red filter was gone, along with the strange words. I blinked again and my head was plummeting towards the cold basement floor.
Awaking, what must have been hours later, the basement was pitch black. The light that had dazedly brushed through the dusty particles on the window was now gone.
The day had broke, and the must of the basement must have nearly enveloped me. Pushing myself over to sit, my shorts were immediately soaked. Pulling out my phone from its designated pocket, my fingers fumbled to open the flashlight app. Once open, my attention turned to a small pool of blood on the concrete floor.
"Shit, that explains the lightheadedness. Maggie's going to have a fit when she sees the damage."
Pondering what I might tell her in explanation, I slowly made my way to the stairs. As I reached the base, and my light flicked up towards the door, my foot kicked something small and metal. Paying it no mind, my hand gripped a handful of splinters as I propelled myself up the protesting old steps.
Mind too numb to find a care for anything but Maggie, I closed the app as I turned on the kitchen light. I noted the time, a quarter after nine. She would be on her way home soon. A sense of ease spread through me. Plagued by a horrible headache, my hand reached for my head. Dry blood lined my brow. Calling 911 occured to me as a good idea, but without insurance...
With another surge of brutal cranial pressure, a cry escaped. A glance at the time, followed by a groan of annoyance. "I wish she'd hurry up."
I slipped off into sleep at the kitchen table. The scent of lillies from the middle of the table made for a sedative like no other. Her hair constantly smelled of lillies.
Sweet dreams were suddenly ripped from my mind as there was a pounding at the door. Half dead, I dazedly made my way for the door. More pounding made for more unpleasantries in my head. Pulling the door open with an attitude, I froze when two police officers stood before me. They wore grim expressions.
Intuition made my heart sink before my conscious mind could even make out the words spoken from beneath the mustache of the gruff man before me. Thrown.. Impact.. Sorry... Identity....
I woke up in a hospital bed. The window revealed the sobering pre-glow of dawn. I felt for my head but a wrapped bandage is all I found. The previous day came flooding back wih speed harsher than the inevitable decay of the human body. I broke down into a sob nearest to death throws. My mind made fuzzy, everything but her. She was gone and I could do nothing. She was gone.
Ringing for a nurse, my frantic pleas only resulted in forced sedation. Through tears, my eyes unwillingly closed to the team of nurses restraining me... No, there was something else.. Some glint in the air, just past the head nurse's permed curls... What.. was......
I awoke to the gesture of two detectives. They told me they had some standard questions to ask of me. Compliant, i answered them as best I could. For their final question, I was asked what I would do now.
"I wish I could do it all again," I answered without hesitation.
I closed my eyes and rested my head as they quietly departed the room. My mind went blank........ Buzzing, wind reppling my entire body, the warmth of the sun. Eyes open, an aerial view of.. Giant flowers? Decending upon one, the familiar scent of lillies. | I turned the radio to my favourite 90s hip hop station for a good old singalong.
Minutes later I was 9 foot tall, talking on the phone to a girl I had never met before but sounded attractive and had the sudden urge to play basketball. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Hey, did you call me up here? I've almost cleaned the basement" I said, "Just like you asked."
"Finally." she replied, her face sourer than a lemon.
"God, is nothing I say ever good enough for you?" I asked "Sometimes I wish I had never married you."
Everything froze for a minute. A whirring noise assaulted my ears. Then a click.
Suddenly time began again.
The woman in front of me was my wife, but something was different. My gut stuck out an extra foot in front of me, and I was wearing overalls. Then I noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
"Thank you so much!" she said to me, "How much do I owe you?"
I looked down in confusion at the clipboard in my hands.
Balance owed: $150
"Uhh... $150?" I asked.
"Okay." she said "Really you are a lifesaver, I don't know how else we would've cleaned that basement."
"No problem..." I said "It's just my job" My mouth was moving, but the words weren't mine. It was as if I had been transported into a different dimension.
"I wish I knew what was going on." I mumbled.
BANG! SNAP! Suddenly everything vanished. I was in a white cavern, surrounded by small lizards singing "Boo boo la la boo boo la la boo boo la la" in perfect unison.
A great black office chair sat in front of me and slowly swiveled to face me.
A blue man sat there, wearing a turban and holding a golden goblet.
He looked at me. Frowned.
"Do you not know?" he asked.
"Uhh know what?" I replied.
"Do you not know what's going on?" He demanded.
"No?" I said.
"You freed me in universe 1,345,777,239 XJBY and I granted your first wish of 'I wish I had never married you.' You were then transported to universe 1,345,777,238 XJBM where you had never married her. This is what you wanted, no?"
"What do you mean I freed you?" I said.
"Well, in the basement, there was a beer bottle with a candle sitting on top. That was my universal access point for that particular universe. When you removed the candle, you gave me power there, and for that I gave you three wishes. Did you not hear me?"
"No." I hadn't.
"Well, no matter... you have one wish remaining, what is it you desire? Gold? Money? Sex? The body of a god? Nothing is outside your reach..."
"Well..." I thought for a minute, "I wish I had been aware that something was going to happen when I opened that bottle, then I would've..."
BANG SNAP! CRACKLE!
I was in the basement, my head hurt slightly. What was I doing?
Oh yes, cleaning so my wife would be happy.
I picked up a tattered Mexican blanket, and saw a beer bottle underneath, with a candle on top. Something about it seemed familiar. I felt like I knew that if I did something with it... something would happen. It was an incredibly vague sense of unease though.
I picked it up slowly, looking at the white candle stuck in the top... the rivers of wax had run down the sides and made the bottle look like it had a mop of white hair.
I tugged on the candle. It came out with a popping noise.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
I heard a voice calling out faintly. It must be my wife upstairs. I turned and headed up the creaky wooden stairs, looking back one time at the almost fully cleaned basement...
She would be happy I had finally gotten around to it.
I smiled and opened the door to the kitchen. | I turned the radio to my favourite 90s hip hop station for a good old singalong.
Minutes later I was 9 foot tall, talking on the phone to a girl I had never met before but sounded attractive and had the sudden urge to play basketball. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Stupid little lamp! Where did you even come from?"
I threw it back across the musty basement towards the questionably stable wooden stairs. Even more trash bags would be necessary of they ever collapsed. They would have to be tended to, but first this collection of junk before me. The way things were precariously stacked, it was reminiscent of the Room of Requirement.
"I wish I knew a spell to help tidy this place up" I announced to nothing.
Suddenly, like an intende pain, sharper than the hottest branding iron. Searing pain, burned into letters. Agony released by tears, my eyes opened. The world was encompassed by a new filter- words. No, maybe symbols. They were almost archaic in nature. Glowing red, everywhere I looked I saw them. Trying to make them out, my mouh moved on its own. The words took root in what may have been Latin.
I blinked, and the bright red filter was gone, along with the strange words. I blinked again and my head was plummeting towards the cold basement floor.
Awaking, what must have been hours later, the basement was pitch black. The light that had dazedly brushed through the dusty particles on the window was now gone.
The day had broke, and the must of the basement must have nearly enveloped me. Pushing myself over to sit, my shorts were immediately soaked. Pulling out my phone from its designated pocket, my fingers fumbled to open the flashlight app. Once open, my attention turned to a small pool of blood on the concrete floor.
"Shit, that explains the lightheadedness. Maggie's going to have a fit when she sees the damage."
Pondering what I might tell her in explanation, I slowly made my way to the stairs. As I reached the base, and my light flicked up towards the door, my foot kicked something small and metal. Paying it no mind, my hand gripped a handful of splinters as I propelled myself up the protesting old steps.
Mind too numb to find a care for anything but Maggie, I closed the app as I turned on the kitchen light. I noted the time, a quarter after nine. She would be on her way home soon. A sense of ease spread through me. Plagued by a horrible headache, my hand reached for my head. Dry blood lined my brow. Calling 911 occured to me as a good idea, but without insurance...
With another surge of brutal cranial pressure, a cry escaped. A glance at the time, followed by a groan of annoyance. "I wish she'd hurry up."
I slipped off into sleep at the kitchen table. The scent of lillies from the middle of the table made for a sedative like no other. Her hair constantly smelled of lillies.
Sweet dreams were suddenly ripped from my mind as there was a pounding at the door. Half dead, I dazedly made my way for the door. More pounding made for more unpleasantries in my head. Pulling the door open with an attitude, I froze when two police officers stood before me. They wore grim expressions.
Intuition made my heart sink before my conscious mind could even make out the words spoken from beneath the mustache of the gruff man before me. Thrown.. Impact.. Sorry... Identity....
I woke up in a hospital bed. The window revealed the sobering pre-glow of dawn. I felt for my head but a wrapped bandage is all I found. The previous day came flooding back wih speed harsher than the inevitable decay of the human body. I broke down into a sob nearest to death throws. My mind made fuzzy, everything but her. She was gone and I could do nothing. She was gone.
Ringing for a nurse, my frantic pleas only resulted in forced sedation. Through tears, my eyes unwillingly closed to the team of nurses restraining me... No, there was something else.. Some glint in the air, just past the head nurse's permed curls... What.. was......
I awoke to the gesture of two detectives. They told me they had some standard questions to ask of me. Compliant, i answered them as best I could. For their final question, I was asked what I would do now.
"I wish I could do it all again," I answered without hesitation.
I closed my eyes and rested my head as they quietly departed the room. My mind went blank........ Buzzing, wind reppling my entire body, the warmth of the sun. Eyes open, an aerial view of.. Giant flowers? Decending upon one, the familiar scent of lillies. | I wiped the sweat from my brow as the cleaning of the basement waged on. I was not happy about doing it. Apparently in the ensuing chaos of sorting through moldy boxes of decade old Christmas decorations oh and not to mention grade school achievements like best in show in tell and whatever was supposed to be a horse or was that a cat? My parents never liked my sister anyway. I dropped a box of Aladdin themed ornaments on the floor. Reaching to pick them up I feel something crunch under my left foot. Just assuming that its an ornament I was thankful I decided to wear my steel toed boots before coming down here. I just couldn't handle bugs or mice. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Hey, did you call me up here? I've almost cleaned the basement" I said, "Just like you asked."
"Finally." she replied, her face sourer than a lemon.
"God, is nothing I say ever good enough for you?" I asked "Sometimes I wish I had never married you."
Everything froze for a minute. A whirring noise assaulted my ears. Then a click.
Suddenly time began again.
The woman in front of me was my wife, but something was different. My gut stuck out an extra foot in front of me, and I was wearing overalls. Then I noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
"Thank you so much!" she said to me, "How much do I owe you?"
I looked down in confusion at the clipboard in my hands.
Balance owed: $150
"Uhh... $150?" I asked.
"Okay." she said "Really you are a lifesaver, I don't know how else we would've cleaned that basement."
"No problem..." I said "It's just my job" My mouth was moving, but the words weren't mine. It was as if I had been transported into a different dimension.
"I wish I knew what was going on." I mumbled.
BANG! SNAP! Suddenly everything vanished. I was in a white cavern, surrounded by small lizards singing "Boo boo la la boo boo la la boo boo la la" in perfect unison.
A great black office chair sat in front of me and slowly swiveled to face me.
A blue man sat there, wearing a turban and holding a golden goblet.
He looked at me. Frowned.
"Do you not know?" he asked.
"Uhh know what?" I replied.
"Do you not know what's going on?" He demanded.
"No?" I said.
"You freed me in universe 1,345,777,239 XJBY and I granted your first wish of 'I wish I had never married you.' You were then transported to universe 1,345,777,238 XJBM where you had never married her. This is what you wanted, no?"
"What do you mean I freed you?" I said.
"Well, in the basement, there was a beer bottle with a candle sitting on top. That was my universal access point for that particular universe. When you removed the candle, you gave me power there, and for that I gave you three wishes. Did you not hear me?"
"No." I hadn't.
"Well, no matter... you have one wish remaining, what is it you desire? Gold? Money? Sex? The body of a god? Nothing is outside your reach..."
"Well..." I thought for a minute, "I wish I had been aware that something was going to happen when I opened that bottle, then I would've..."
BANG SNAP! CRACKLE!
I was in the basement, my head hurt slightly. What was I doing?
Oh yes, cleaning so my wife would be happy.
I picked up a tattered Mexican blanket, and saw a beer bottle underneath, with a candle on top. Something about it seemed familiar. I felt like I knew that if I did something with it... something would happen. It was an incredibly vague sense of unease though.
I picked it up slowly, looking at the white candle stuck in the top... the rivers of wax had run down the sides and made the bottle look like it had a mop of white hair.
I tugged on the candle. It came out with a popping noise.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
I heard a voice calling out faintly. It must be my wife upstairs. I turned and headed up the creaky wooden stairs, looking back one time at the almost fully cleaned basement...
She would be happy I had finally gotten around to it.
I smiled and opened the door to the kitchen. | I wiped the sweat from my brow as the cleaning of the basement waged on. I was not happy about doing it. Apparently in the ensuing chaos of sorting through moldy boxes of decade old Christmas decorations oh and not to mention grade school achievements like best in show in tell and whatever was supposed to be a horse or was that a cat? My parents never liked my sister anyway. I dropped a box of Aladdin themed ornaments on the floor. Reaching to pick them up I feel something crunch under my left foot. Just assuming that its an ornament I was thankful I decided to wear my steel toed boots before coming down here. I just couldn't handle bugs or mice. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Stupid little lamp! Where did you even come from?"
I threw it back across the musty basement towards the questionably stable wooden stairs. Even more trash bags would be necessary of they ever collapsed. They would have to be tended to, but first this collection of junk before me. The way things were precariously stacked, it was reminiscent of the Room of Requirement.
"I wish I knew a spell to help tidy this place up" I announced to nothing.
Suddenly, like an intende pain, sharper than the hottest branding iron. Searing pain, burned into letters. Agony released by tears, my eyes opened. The world was encompassed by a new filter- words. No, maybe symbols. They were almost archaic in nature. Glowing red, everywhere I looked I saw them. Trying to make them out, my mouh moved on its own. The words took root in what may have been Latin.
I blinked, and the bright red filter was gone, along with the strange words. I blinked again and my head was plummeting towards the cold basement floor.
Awaking, what must have been hours later, the basement was pitch black. The light that had dazedly brushed through the dusty particles on the window was now gone.
The day had broke, and the must of the basement must have nearly enveloped me. Pushing myself over to sit, my shorts were immediately soaked. Pulling out my phone from its designated pocket, my fingers fumbled to open the flashlight app. Once open, my attention turned to a small pool of blood on the concrete floor.
"Shit, that explains the lightheadedness. Maggie's going to have a fit when she sees the damage."
Pondering what I might tell her in explanation, I slowly made my way to the stairs. As I reached the base, and my light flicked up towards the door, my foot kicked something small and metal. Paying it no mind, my hand gripped a handful of splinters as I propelled myself up the protesting old steps.
Mind too numb to find a care for anything but Maggie, I closed the app as I turned on the kitchen light. I noted the time, a quarter after nine. She would be on her way home soon. A sense of ease spread through me. Plagued by a horrible headache, my hand reached for my head. Dry blood lined my brow. Calling 911 occured to me as a good idea, but without insurance...
With another surge of brutal cranial pressure, a cry escaped. A glance at the time, followed by a groan of annoyance. "I wish she'd hurry up."
I slipped off into sleep at the kitchen table. The scent of lillies from the middle of the table made for a sedative like no other. Her hair constantly smelled of lillies.
Sweet dreams were suddenly ripped from my mind as there was a pounding at the door. Half dead, I dazedly made my way for the door. More pounding made for more unpleasantries in my head. Pulling the door open with an attitude, I froze when two police officers stood before me. They wore grim expressions.
Intuition made my heart sink before my conscious mind could even make out the words spoken from beneath the mustache of the gruff man before me. Thrown.. Impact.. Sorry... Identity....
I woke up in a hospital bed. The window revealed the sobering pre-glow of dawn. I felt for my head but a wrapped bandage is all I found. The previous day came flooding back wih speed harsher than the inevitable decay of the human body. I broke down into a sob nearest to death throws. My mind made fuzzy, everything but her. She was gone and I could do nothing. She was gone.
Ringing for a nurse, my frantic pleas only resulted in forced sedation. Through tears, my eyes unwillingly closed to the team of nurses restraining me... No, there was something else.. Some glint in the air, just past the head nurse's permed curls... What.. was......
I awoke to the gesture of two detectives. They told me they had some standard questions to ask of me. Compliant, i answered them as best I could. For their final question, I was asked what I would do now.
"I wish I could do it all again," I answered without hesitation.
I closed my eyes and rested my head as they quietly departed the room. My mind went blank........ Buzzing, wind reppling my entire body, the warmth of the sun. Eyes open, an aerial view of.. Giant flowers? Decending upon one, the familiar scent of lillies. | As a genie of the tiny variety, I don't get the credit my larger bethren are afforded. I've only been freed a handful of times and of those times, the wishers haven't even realized what was going on. They call my kind, Coincidence Genies, because that's what our work generally gets played off as, a coincidence.
So here I sit, in the musty old basement where I've been for years just waiting for someone to happen upon me. I can hear what's going on out there; the dad voice seems to be looking for his old fishing gear, the little girl voice is helping the mom voice find some old photos but yet here I wait, trapped until someone frees me. Today's sound is different though. There is definitely music playing and lots of commotion. Wait, I think the dad voice is cleaning the basement and finally I might add as mom voice has been asking him to do it for months. Oh, it sounds like dad voice is singing along to the music terribly, but whatever keeps him working. This could be my chance, I think it is. My mini oil lamp is getting picked up.
*POOF* Ok, it was actually more of a *poof*, but like I said I'm a tiny genie. "I will grant you your next three wishes!" I shout...he doesn't flinch. Of course he doesn't. Like I said, no respect. He set my lamp down and is walking away. Not again, why can't my wishes just be noticed? Wait, he's saying something. Oh, nevermind, he's just reacting to the music. I do have to say, he sure knows this Skeelo guy's song by heart though. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Hey, did you call me up here? I've almost cleaned the basement" I said, "Just like you asked."
"Finally." she replied, her face sourer than a lemon.
"God, is nothing I say ever good enough for you?" I asked "Sometimes I wish I had never married you."
Everything froze for a minute. A whirring noise assaulted my ears. Then a click.
Suddenly time began again.
The woman in front of me was my wife, but something was different. My gut stuck out an extra foot in front of me, and I was wearing overalls. Then I noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
"Thank you so much!" she said to me, "How much do I owe you?"
I looked down in confusion at the clipboard in my hands.
Balance owed: $150
"Uhh... $150?" I asked.
"Okay." she said "Really you are a lifesaver, I don't know how else we would've cleaned that basement."
"No problem..." I said "It's just my job" My mouth was moving, but the words weren't mine. It was as if I had been transported into a different dimension.
"I wish I knew what was going on." I mumbled.
BANG! SNAP! Suddenly everything vanished. I was in a white cavern, surrounded by small lizards singing "Boo boo la la boo boo la la boo boo la la" in perfect unison.
A great black office chair sat in front of me and slowly swiveled to face me.
A blue man sat there, wearing a turban and holding a golden goblet.
He looked at me. Frowned.
"Do you not know?" he asked.
"Uhh know what?" I replied.
"Do you not know what's going on?" He demanded.
"No?" I said.
"You freed me in universe 1,345,777,239 XJBY and I granted your first wish of 'I wish I had never married you.' You were then transported to universe 1,345,777,238 XJBM where you had never married her. This is what you wanted, no?"
"What do you mean I freed you?" I said.
"Well, in the basement, there was a beer bottle with a candle sitting on top. That was my universal access point for that particular universe. When you removed the candle, you gave me power there, and for that I gave you three wishes. Did you not hear me?"
"No." I hadn't.
"Well, no matter... you have one wish remaining, what is it you desire? Gold? Money? Sex? The body of a god? Nothing is outside your reach..."
"Well..." I thought for a minute, "I wish I had been aware that something was going to happen when I opened that bottle, then I would've..."
BANG SNAP! CRACKLE!
I was in the basement, my head hurt slightly. What was I doing?
Oh yes, cleaning so my wife would be happy.
I picked up a tattered Mexican blanket, and saw a beer bottle underneath, with a candle on top. Something about it seemed familiar. I felt like I knew that if I did something with it... something would happen. It was an incredibly vague sense of unease though.
I picked it up slowly, looking at the white candle stuck in the top... the rivers of wax had run down the sides and made the bottle look like it had a mop of white hair.
I tugged on the candle. It came out with a popping noise.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
I heard a voice calling out faintly. It must be my wife upstairs. I turned and headed up the creaky wooden stairs, looking back one time at the almost fully cleaned basement...
She would be happy I had finally gotten around to it.
I smiled and opened the door to the kitchen. | As a genie of the tiny variety, I don't get the credit my larger bethren are afforded. I've only been freed a handful of times and of those times, the wishers haven't even realized what was going on. They call my kind, Coincidence Genies, because that's what our work generally gets played off as, a coincidence.
So here I sit, in the musty old basement where I've been for years just waiting for someone to happen upon me. I can hear what's going on out there; the dad voice seems to be looking for his old fishing gear, the little girl voice is helping the mom voice find some old photos but yet here I wait, trapped until someone frees me. Today's sound is different though. There is definitely music playing and lots of commotion. Wait, I think the dad voice is cleaning the basement and finally I might add as mom voice has been asking him to do it for months. Oh, it sounds like dad voice is singing along to the music terribly, but whatever keeps him working. This could be my chance, I think it is. My mini oil lamp is getting picked up.
*POOF* Ok, it was actually more of a *poof*, but like I said I'm a tiny genie. "I will grant you your next three wishes!" I shout...he doesn't flinch. Of course he doesn't. Like I said, no respect. He set my lamp down and is walking away. Not again, why can't my wishes just be noticed? Wait, he's saying something. Oh, nevermind, he's just reacting to the music. I do have to say, he sure knows this Skeelo guy's song by heart though. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Stupid little lamp! Where did you even come from?"
I threw it back across the musty basement towards the questionably stable wooden stairs. Even more trash bags would be necessary of they ever collapsed. They would have to be tended to, but first this collection of junk before me. The way things were precariously stacked, it was reminiscent of the Room of Requirement.
"I wish I knew a spell to help tidy this place up" I announced to nothing.
Suddenly, like an intende pain, sharper than the hottest branding iron. Searing pain, burned into letters. Agony released by tears, my eyes opened. The world was encompassed by a new filter- words. No, maybe symbols. They were almost archaic in nature. Glowing red, everywhere I looked I saw them. Trying to make them out, my mouh moved on its own. The words took root in what may have been Latin.
I blinked, and the bright red filter was gone, along with the strange words. I blinked again and my head was plummeting towards the cold basement floor.
Awaking, what must have been hours later, the basement was pitch black. The light that had dazedly brushed through the dusty particles on the window was now gone.
The day had broke, and the must of the basement must have nearly enveloped me. Pushing myself over to sit, my shorts were immediately soaked. Pulling out my phone from its designated pocket, my fingers fumbled to open the flashlight app. Once open, my attention turned to a small pool of blood on the concrete floor.
"Shit, that explains the lightheadedness. Maggie's going to have a fit when she sees the damage."
Pondering what I might tell her in explanation, I slowly made my way to the stairs. As I reached the base, and my light flicked up towards the door, my foot kicked something small and metal. Paying it no mind, my hand gripped a handful of splinters as I propelled myself up the protesting old steps.
Mind too numb to find a care for anything but Maggie, I closed the app as I turned on the kitchen light. I noted the time, a quarter after nine. She would be on her way home soon. A sense of ease spread through me. Plagued by a horrible headache, my hand reached for my head. Dry blood lined my brow. Calling 911 occured to me as a good idea, but without insurance...
With another surge of brutal cranial pressure, a cry escaped. A glance at the time, followed by a groan of annoyance. "I wish she'd hurry up."
I slipped off into sleep at the kitchen table. The scent of lillies from the middle of the table made for a sedative like no other. Her hair constantly smelled of lillies.
Sweet dreams were suddenly ripped from my mind as there was a pounding at the door. Half dead, I dazedly made my way for the door. More pounding made for more unpleasantries in my head. Pulling the door open with an attitude, I froze when two police officers stood before me. They wore grim expressions.
Intuition made my heart sink before my conscious mind could even make out the words spoken from beneath the mustache of the gruff man before me. Thrown.. Impact.. Sorry... Identity....
I woke up in a hospital bed. The window revealed the sobering pre-glow of dawn. I felt for my head but a wrapped bandage is all I found. The previous day came flooding back wih speed harsher than the inevitable decay of the human body. I broke down into a sob nearest to death throws. My mind made fuzzy, everything but her. She was gone and I could do nothing. She was gone.
Ringing for a nurse, my frantic pleas only resulted in forced sedation. Through tears, my eyes unwillingly closed to the team of nurses restraining me... No, there was something else.. Some glint in the air, just past the head nurse's permed curls... What.. was......
I awoke to the gesture of two detectives. They told me they had some standard questions to ask of me. Compliant, i answered them as best I could. For their final question, I was asked what I would do now.
"I wish I could do it all again," I answered without hesitation.
I closed my eyes and rested my head as they quietly departed the room. My mind went blank........ Buzzing, wind reppling my entire body, the warmth of the sun. Eyes open, an aerial view of.. Giant flowers? Decending upon one, the familiar scent of lillies. | Journal Entry
8/12/2015 3:00PM
So early this morning I was getting ready to get Jade, but when I was almost ready to leave, I checked my messages to find out that she was doing her hair. That single text granted me a couple hours of boredom and time to try to feel productive, but fail at miserably. Before trying to read a book or do something college related, I made some breakfast with coffee. I don't think I’ve written much about my coffee drinking habits, but I don't drink coffee at home, only when I’m out doing stuff. It makes me GO! Well the cup of coffee I had kicked me into a very intense cleaning mood since that’s what being productive at home is, cleaning.
The room was first, but it was fairly kept up anyway, so I moved to the living room; telescope, sterilite boxes, and college supplies move around and make their way to the basement only for me to recall that I never cleaned up the painting mess I made down there. “NEW CLEANING TASK!” my coffee drugged brain screamed. I felt rushed to clean up all the used paint rollers stuck to the floor and all the little various plastic bits scattered about. My heart raced as I ran up the stairs to the garage and back down to clean more, but I really had nothing to rush for. Jade wouldn't be ready for hours and no one was expected, whatever KEEP CLEANING.
The floor was clean, the tools were back in the garage, now all that’s left was the trash. I thought to myself “I wish I didn't have to go out there again and get that hot burst of smell and flies from opening the trash can again.” (This only stands out in hindsight however. I make little wishes like this all the time.) BAM! The bucket that was filled with paint garbage is now empty. I thought my eyes might be broken or something because it just vanished. It was like an edit in a youtube video. I don't think I even blinked and shit just disappeared. I walked around the room and then looked back in the trash can. Empty. Super clean as well. It was like it was a new bucket. I don't know what to think...I still don't and it's really getting to me. I didn't think my whole idea of what life was about or what was real and what wasn't could change instantly. I thought I might have to be in a car wreck and die and then come back, but apparently now...just make some shit disappear.
At this point my mind is racing and the madness is setting in. I swing though emotions thinking I have ultimate power and can do anything then have feelings of minuteness like something else is fucking with me. At some point during that high of ultimate power, I made the crazy wish in my mind that is always one of the first to come up. “I wish I had a big dick…” it’s shameful and kinda strange to think about now, but I got a funny feeling in my pants and instantly realized that I did indeed have ultimate power and could do anything i wanted MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Where I am now:
I have 900 Billion dollars divided into chunks hidden in my house, stashed in banks, and buried underground.
My penis is 9 inches long...flaccid.
The bucket downstairs now makes anything disappear forever when tossed into it.
I still don't know what happened and if something is looking out for me, setting me up to make for a horrible downfall, or something I can't even envision. Wishes also don't work anymore but I guess I’m set for life...Maybe this wasn't so much to worry about. Maybe I should just forget philosophical crap and spend some cash...indeed. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Hey, did you call me up here? I've almost cleaned the basement" I said, "Just like you asked."
"Finally." she replied, her face sourer than a lemon.
"God, is nothing I say ever good enough for you?" I asked "Sometimes I wish I had never married you."
Everything froze for a minute. A whirring noise assaulted my ears. Then a click.
Suddenly time began again.
The woman in front of me was my wife, but something was different. My gut stuck out an extra foot in front of me, and I was wearing overalls. Then I noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
"Thank you so much!" she said to me, "How much do I owe you?"
I looked down in confusion at the clipboard in my hands.
Balance owed: $150
"Uhh... $150?" I asked.
"Okay." she said "Really you are a lifesaver, I don't know how else we would've cleaned that basement."
"No problem..." I said "It's just my job" My mouth was moving, but the words weren't mine. It was as if I had been transported into a different dimension.
"I wish I knew what was going on." I mumbled.
BANG! SNAP! Suddenly everything vanished. I was in a white cavern, surrounded by small lizards singing "Boo boo la la boo boo la la boo boo la la" in perfect unison.
A great black office chair sat in front of me and slowly swiveled to face me.
A blue man sat there, wearing a turban and holding a golden goblet.
He looked at me. Frowned.
"Do you not know?" he asked.
"Uhh know what?" I replied.
"Do you not know what's going on?" He demanded.
"No?" I said.
"You freed me in universe 1,345,777,239 XJBY and I granted your first wish of 'I wish I had never married you.' You were then transported to universe 1,345,777,238 XJBM where you had never married her. This is what you wanted, no?"
"What do you mean I freed you?" I said.
"Well, in the basement, there was a beer bottle with a candle sitting on top. That was my universal access point for that particular universe. When you removed the candle, you gave me power there, and for that I gave you three wishes. Did you not hear me?"
"No." I hadn't.
"Well, no matter... you have one wish remaining, what is it you desire? Gold? Money? Sex? The body of a god? Nothing is outside your reach..."
"Well..." I thought for a minute, "I wish I had been aware that something was going to happen when I opened that bottle, then I would've..."
BANG SNAP! CRACKLE!
I was in the basement, my head hurt slightly. What was I doing?
Oh yes, cleaning so my wife would be happy.
I picked up a tattered Mexican blanket, and saw a beer bottle underneath, with a candle on top. Something about it seemed familiar. I felt like I knew that if I did something with it... something would happen. It was an incredibly vague sense of unease though.
I picked it up slowly, looking at the white candle stuck in the top... the rivers of wax had run down the sides and made the bottle look like it had a mop of white hair.
I tugged on the candle. It came out with a popping noise.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
I heard a voice calling out faintly. It must be my wife upstairs. I turned and headed up the creaky wooden stairs, looking back one time at the almost fully cleaned basement...
She would be happy I had finally gotten around to it.
I smiled and opened the door to the kitchen. | Journal Entry
8/12/2015 3:00PM
So early this morning I was getting ready to get Jade, but when I was almost ready to leave, I checked my messages to find out that she was doing her hair. That single text granted me a couple hours of boredom and time to try to feel productive, but fail at miserably. Before trying to read a book or do something college related, I made some breakfast with coffee. I don't think I’ve written much about my coffee drinking habits, but I don't drink coffee at home, only when I’m out doing stuff. It makes me GO! Well the cup of coffee I had kicked me into a very intense cleaning mood since that’s what being productive at home is, cleaning.
The room was first, but it was fairly kept up anyway, so I moved to the living room; telescope, sterilite boxes, and college supplies move around and make their way to the basement only for me to recall that I never cleaned up the painting mess I made down there. “NEW CLEANING TASK!” my coffee drugged brain screamed. I felt rushed to clean up all the used paint rollers stuck to the floor and all the little various plastic bits scattered about. My heart raced as I ran up the stairs to the garage and back down to clean more, but I really had nothing to rush for. Jade wouldn't be ready for hours and no one was expected, whatever KEEP CLEANING.
The floor was clean, the tools were back in the garage, now all that’s left was the trash. I thought to myself “I wish I didn't have to go out there again and get that hot burst of smell and flies from opening the trash can again.” (This only stands out in hindsight however. I make little wishes like this all the time.) BAM! The bucket that was filled with paint garbage is now empty. I thought my eyes might be broken or something because it just vanished. It was like an edit in a youtube video. I don't think I even blinked and shit just disappeared. I walked around the room and then looked back in the trash can. Empty. Super clean as well. It was like it was a new bucket. I don't know what to think...I still don't and it's really getting to me. I didn't think my whole idea of what life was about or what was real and what wasn't could change instantly. I thought I might have to be in a car wreck and die and then come back, but apparently now...just make some shit disappear.
At this point my mind is racing and the madness is setting in. I swing though emotions thinking I have ultimate power and can do anything then have feelings of minuteness like something else is fucking with me. At some point during that high of ultimate power, I made the crazy wish in my mind that is always one of the first to come up. “I wish I had a big dick…” it’s shameful and kinda strange to think about now, but I got a funny feeling in my pants and instantly realized that I did indeed have ultimate power and could do anything i wanted MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Where I am now:
I have 900 Billion dollars divided into chunks hidden in my house, stashed in banks, and buried underground.
My penis is 9 inches long...flaccid.
The bucket downstairs now makes anything disappear forever when tossed into it.
I still don't know what happened and if something is looking out for me, setting me up to make for a horrible downfall, or something I can't even envision. Wishes also don't work anymore but I guess I’m set for life...Maybe this wasn't so much to worry about. Maybe I should just forget philosophical crap and spend some cash...indeed. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Stupid little lamp! Where did you even come from?"
I threw it back across the musty basement towards the questionably stable wooden stairs. Even more trash bags would be necessary of they ever collapsed. They would have to be tended to, but first this collection of junk before me. The way things were precariously stacked, it was reminiscent of the Room of Requirement.
"I wish I knew a spell to help tidy this place up" I announced to nothing.
Suddenly, like an intende pain, sharper than the hottest branding iron. Searing pain, burned into letters. Agony released by tears, my eyes opened. The world was encompassed by a new filter- words. No, maybe symbols. They were almost archaic in nature. Glowing red, everywhere I looked I saw them. Trying to make them out, my mouh moved on its own. The words took root in what may have been Latin.
I blinked, and the bright red filter was gone, along with the strange words. I blinked again and my head was plummeting towards the cold basement floor.
Awaking, what must have been hours later, the basement was pitch black. The light that had dazedly brushed through the dusty particles on the window was now gone.
The day had broke, and the must of the basement must have nearly enveloped me. Pushing myself over to sit, my shorts were immediately soaked. Pulling out my phone from its designated pocket, my fingers fumbled to open the flashlight app. Once open, my attention turned to a small pool of blood on the concrete floor.
"Shit, that explains the lightheadedness. Maggie's going to have a fit when she sees the damage."
Pondering what I might tell her in explanation, I slowly made my way to the stairs. As I reached the base, and my light flicked up towards the door, my foot kicked something small and metal. Paying it no mind, my hand gripped a handful of splinters as I propelled myself up the protesting old steps.
Mind too numb to find a care for anything but Maggie, I closed the app as I turned on the kitchen light. I noted the time, a quarter after nine. She would be on her way home soon. A sense of ease spread through me. Plagued by a horrible headache, my hand reached for my head. Dry blood lined my brow. Calling 911 occured to me as a good idea, but without insurance...
With another surge of brutal cranial pressure, a cry escaped. A glance at the time, followed by a groan of annoyance. "I wish she'd hurry up."
I slipped off into sleep at the kitchen table. The scent of lillies from the middle of the table made for a sedative like no other. Her hair constantly smelled of lillies.
Sweet dreams were suddenly ripped from my mind as there was a pounding at the door. Half dead, I dazedly made my way for the door. More pounding made for more unpleasantries in my head. Pulling the door open with an attitude, I froze when two police officers stood before me. They wore grim expressions.
Intuition made my heart sink before my conscious mind could even make out the words spoken from beneath the mustache of the gruff man before me. Thrown.. Impact.. Sorry... Identity....
I woke up in a hospital bed. The window revealed the sobering pre-glow of dawn. I felt for my head but a wrapped bandage is all I found. The previous day came flooding back wih speed harsher than the inevitable decay of the human body. I broke down into a sob nearest to death throws. My mind made fuzzy, everything but her. She was gone and I could do nothing. She was gone.
Ringing for a nurse, my frantic pleas only resulted in forced sedation. Through tears, my eyes unwillingly closed to the team of nurses restraining me... No, there was something else.. Some glint in the air, just past the head nurse's permed curls... What.. was......
I awoke to the gesture of two detectives. They told me they had some standard questions to ask of me. Compliant, i answered them as best I could. For their final question, I was asked what I would do now.
"I wish I could do it all again," I answered without hesitation.
I closed my eyes and rested my head as they quietly departed the room. My mind went blank........ Buzzing, wind reppling my entire body, the warmth of the sun. Eyes open, an aerial view of.. Giant flowers? Decending upon one, the familiar scent of lillies. | I was trying to carry too many things at once when gravity struck. The top box fell to the ground, burst open, and about fifty little toys and knick knacks flew all over the basement floor.
"Fuhhck mee..." I cried.
I got down on the floor and started picking up the junk.
"Fuck this shit." I groaned.
That's when I noticed the spider hanging on a thread one inch away from my nose. I quickly grabbed the paper towel and squashed the motherfucker.
"Fuck you." I said to the spider's remains.
That was enough work for one day. I went upstairs and took a nap.
| |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Hey, did you call me up here? I've almost cleaned the basement" I said, "Just like you asked."
"Finally." she replied, her face sourer than a lemon.
"God, is nothing I say ever good enough for you?" I asked "Sometimes I wish I had never married you."
Everything froze for a minute. A whirring noise assaulted my ears. Then a click.
Suddenly time began again.
The woman in front of me was my wife, but something was different. My gut stuck out an extra foot in front of me, and I was wearing overalls. Then I noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
"Thank you so much!" she said to me, "How much do I owe you?"
I looked down in confusion at the clipboard in my hands.
Balance owed: $150
"Uhh... $150?" I asked.
"Okay." she said "Really you are a lifesaver, I don't know how else we would've cleaned that basement."
"No problem..." I said "It's just my job" My mouth was moving, but the words weren't mine. It was as if I had been transported into a different dimension.
"I wish I knew what was going on." I mumbled.
BANG! SNAP! Suddenly everything vanished. I was in a white cavern, surrounded by small lizards singing "Boo boo la la boo boo la la boo boo la la" in perfect unison.
A great black office chair sat in front of me and slowly swiveled to face me.
A blue man sat there, wearing a turban and holding a golden goblet.
He looked at me. Frowned.
"Do you not know?" he asked.
"Uhh know what?" I replied.
"Do you not know what's going on?" He demanded.
"No?" I said.
"You freed me in universe 1,345,777,239 XJBY and I granted your first wish of 'I wish I had never married you.' You were then transported to universe 1,345,777,238 XJBM where you had never married her. This is what you wanted, no?"
"What do you mean I freed you?" I said.
"Well, in the basement, there was a beer bottle with a candle sitting on top. That was my universal access point for that particular universe. When you removed the candle, you gave me power there, and for that I gave you three wishes. Did you not hear me?"
"No." I hadn't.
"Well, no matter... you have one wish remaining, what is it you desire? Gold? Money? Sex? The body of a god? Nothing is outside your reach..."
"Well..." I thought for a minute, "I wish I had been aware that something was going to happen when I opened that bottle, then I would've..."
BANG SNAP! CRACKLE!
I was in the basement, my head hurt slightly. What was I doing?
Oh yes, cleaning so my wife would be happy.
I picked up a tattered Mexican blanket, and saw a beer bottle underneath, with a candle on top. Something about it seemed familiar. I felt like I knew that if I did something with it... something would happen. It was an incredibly vague sense of unease though.
I picked it up slowly, looking at the white candle stuck in the top... the rivers of wax had run down the sides and made the bottle look like it had a mop of white hair.
I tugged on the candle. It came out with a popping noise.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
I heard a voice calling out faintly. It must be my wife upstairs. I turned and headed up the creaky wooden stairs, looking back one time at the almost fully cleaned basement...
She would be happy I had finally gotten around to it.
I smiled and opened the door to the kitchen. | I was trying to carry too many things at once when gravity struck. The top box fell to the ground, burst open, and about fifty little toys and knick knacks flew all over the basement floor.
"Fuhhck mee..." I cried.
I got down on the floor and started picking up the junk.
"Fuck this shit." I groaned.
That's when I noticed the spider hanging on a thread one inch away from my nose. I quickly grabbed the paper towel and squashed the motherfucker.
"Fuck you." I said to the spider's remains.
That was enough work for one day. I went upstairs and took a nap.
| |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Stupid little lamp! Where did you even come from?"
I threw it back across the musty basement towards the questionably stable wooden stairs. Even more trash bags would be necessary of they ever collapsed. They would have to be tended to, but first this collection of junk before me. The way things were precariously stacked, it was reminiscent of the Room of Requirement.
"I wish I knew a spell to help tidy this place up" I announced to nothing.
Suddenly, like an intende pain, sharper than the hottest branding iron. Searing pain, burned into letters. Agony released by tears, my eyes opened. The world was encompassed by a new filter- words. No, maybe symbols. They were almost archaic in nature. Glowing red, everywhere I looked I saw them. Trying to make them out, my mouh moved on its own. The words took root in what may have been Latin.
I blinked, and the bright red filter was gone, along with the strange words. I blinked again and my head was plummeting towards the cold basement floor.
Awaking, what must have been hours later, the basement was pitch black. The light that had dazedly brushed through the dusty particles on the window was now gone.
The day had broke, and the must of the basement must have nearly enveloped me. Pushing myself over to sit, my shorts were immediately soaked. Pulling out my phone from its designated pocket, my fingers fumbled to open the flashlight app. Once open, my attention turned to a small pool of blood on the concrete floor.
"Shit, that explains the lightheadedness. Maggie's going to have a fit when she sees the damage."
Pondering what I might tell her in explanation, I slowly made my way to the stairs. As I reached the base, and my light flicked up towards the door, my foot kicked something small and metal. Paying it no mind, my hand gripped a handful of splinters as I propelled myself up the protesting old steps.
Mind too numb to find a care for anything but Maggie, I closed the app as I turned on the kitchen light. I noted the time, a quarter after nine. She would be on her way home soon. A sense of ease spread through me. Plagued by a horrible headache, my hand reached for my head. Dry blood lined my brow. Calling 911 occured to me as a good idea, but without insurance...
With another surge of brutal cranial pressure, a cry escaped. A glance at the time, followed by a groan of annoyance. "I wish she'd hurry up."
I slipped off into sleep at the kitchen table. The scent of lillies from the middle of the table made for a sedative like no other. Her hair constantly smelled of lillies.
Sweet dreams were suddenly ripped from my mind as there was a pounding at the door. Half dead, I dazedly made my way for the door. More pounding made for more unpleasantries in my head. Pulling the door open with an attitude, I froze when two police officers stood before me. They wore grim expressions.
Intuition made my heart sink before my conscious mind could even make out the words spoken from beneath the mustache of the gruff man before me. Thrown.. Impact.. Sorry... Identity....
I woke up in a hospital bed. The window revealed the sobering pre-glow of dawn. I felt for my head but a wrapped bandage is all I found. The previous day came flooding back wih speed harsher than the inevitable decay of the human body. I broke down into a sob nearest to death throws. My mind made fuzzy, everything but her. She was gone and I could do nothing. She was gone.
Ringing for a nurse, my frantic pleas only resulted in forced sedation. Through tears, my eyes unwillingly closed to the team of nurses restraining me... No, there was something else.. Some glint in the air, just past the head nurse's permed curls... What.. was......
I awoke to the gesture of two detectives. They told me they had some standard questions to ask of me. Compliant, i answered them as best I could. For their final question, I was asked what I would do now.
"I wish I could do it all again," I answered without hesitation.
I closed my eyes and rested my head as they quietly departed the room. My mind went blank........ Buzzing, wind reppling my entire body, the warmth of the sun. Eyes open, an aerial view of.. Giant flowers? Decending upon one, the familiar scent of lillies. | It was a dark gloomy night at the Johnson household. Young billy, having already had quite a miserable day, had been assigned to clean the basement, a chore he always neglected due to his paralyzing fear of it. After a long and brutal argument with his mother, he finally caved and cautiously sauntered down the rickety stairwell, descending into darkness. In search for the light switch, he blindly waved his arms around in front of him. His hands came to a shelf. Sliding his fingers along, his hand hit a ceramic object, which went crashing to the floor with a bang.
"FUCK!" he said, "I wish I had never done that."
*Poof* | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Hey, did you call me up here? I've almost cleaned the basement" I said, "Just like you asked."
"Finally." she replied, her face sourer than a lemon.
"God, is nothing I say ever good enough for you?" I asked "Sometimes I wish I had never married you."
Everything froze for a minute. A whirring noise assaulted my ears. Then a click.
Suddenly time began again.
The woman in front of me was my wife, but something was different. My gut stuck out an extra foot in front of me, and I was wearing overalls. Then I noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
"Thank you so much!" she said to me, "How much do I owe you?"
I looked down in confusion at the clipboard in my hands.
Balance owed: $150
"Uhh... $150?" I asked.
"Okay." she said "Really you are a lifesaver, I don't know how else we would've cleaned that basement."
"No problem..." I said "It's just my job" My mouth was moving, but the words weren't mine. It was as if I had been transported into a different dimension.
"I wish I knew what was going on." I mumbled.
BANG! SNAP! Suddenly everything vanished. I was in a white cavern, surrounded by small lizards singing "Boo boo la la boo boo la la boo boo la la" in perfect unison.
A great black office chair sat in front of me and slowly swiveled to face me.
A blue man sat there, wearing a turban and holding a golden goblet.
He looked at me. Frowned.
"Do you not know?" he asked.
"Uhh know what?" I replied.
"Do you not know what's going on?" He demanded.
"No?" I said.
"You freed me in universe 1,345,777,239 XJBY and I granted your first wish of 'I wish I had never married you.' You were then transported to universe 1,345,777,238 XJBM where you had never married her. This is what you wanted, no?"
"What do you mean I freed you?" I said.
"Well, in the basement, there was a beer bottle with a candle sitting on top. That was my universal access point for that particular universe. When you removed the candle, you gave me power there, and for that I gave you three wishes. Did you not hear me?"
"No." I hadn't.
"Well, no matter... you have one wish remaining, what is it you desire? Gold? Money? Sex? The body of a god? Nothing is outside your reach..."
"Well..." I thought for a minute, "I wish I had been aware that something was going to happen when I opened that bottle, then I would've..."
BANG SNAP! CRACKLE!
I was in the basement, my head hurt slightly. What was I doing?
Oh yes, cleaning so my wife would be happy.
I picked up a tattered Mexican blanket, and saw a beer bottle underneath, with a candle on top. Something about it seemed familiar. I felt like I knew that if I did something with it... something would happen. It was an incredibly vague sense of unease though.
I picked it up slowly, looking at the white candle stuck in the top... the rivers of wax had run down the sides and made the bottle look like it had a mop of white hair.
I tugged on the candle. It came out with a popping noise.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
I heard a voice calling out faintly. It must be my wife upstairs. I turned and headed up the creaky wooden stairs, looking back one time at the almost fully cleaned basement...
She would be happy I had finally gotten around to it.
I smiled and opened the door to the kitchen. | It was a dark gloomy night at the Johnson household. Young billy, having already had quite a miserable day, had been assigned to clean the basement, a chore he always neglected due to his paralyzing fear of it. After a long and brutal argument with his mother, he finally caved and cautiously sauntered down the rickety stairwell, descending into darkness. In search for the light switch, he blindly waved his arms around in front of him. His hands came to a shelf. Sliding his fingers along, his hand hit a ceramic object, which went crashing to the floor with a bang.
"FUCK!" he said, "I wish I had never done that."
*Poof* | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Stupid little lamp! Where did you even come from?"
I threw it back across the musty basement towards the questionably stable wooden stairs. Even more trash bags would be necessary of they ever collapsed. They would have to be tended to, but first this collection of junk before me. The way things were precariously stacked, it was reminiscent of the Room of Requirement.
"I wish I knew a spell to help tidy this place up" I announced to nothing.
Suddenly, like an intende pain, sharper than the hottest branding iron. Searing pain, burned into letters. Agony released by tears, my eyes opened. The world was encompassed by a new filter- words. No, maybe symbols. They were almost archaic in nature. Glowing red, everywhere I looked I saw them. Trying to make them out, my mouh moved on its own. The words took root in what may have been Latin.
I blinked, and the bright red filter was gone, along with the strange words. I blinked again and my head was plummeting towards the cold basement floor.
Awaking, what must have been hours later, the basement was pitch black. The light that had dazedly brushed through the dusty particles on the window was now gone.
The day had broke, and the must of the basement must have nearly enveloped me. Pushing myself over to sit, my shorts were immediately soaked. Pulling out my phone from its designated pocket, my fingers fumbled to open the flashlight app. Once open, my attention turned to a small pool of blood on the concrete floor.
"Shit, that explains the lightheadedness. Maggie's going to have a fit when she sees the damage."
Pondering what I might tell her in explanation, I slowly made my way to the stairs. As I reached the base, and my light flicked up towards the door, my foot kicked something small and metal. Paying it no mind, my hand gripped a handful of splinters as I propelled myself up the protesting old steps.
Mind too numb to find a care for anything but Maggie, I closed the app as I turned on the kitchen light. I noted the time, a quarter after nine. She would be on her way home soon. A sense of ease spread through me. Plagued by a horrible headache, my hand reached for my head. Dry blood lined my brow. Calling 911 occured to me as a good idea, but without insurance...
With another surge of brutal cranial pressure, a cry escaped. A glance at the time, followed by a groan of annoyance. "I wish she'd hurry up."
I slipped off into sleep at the kitchen table. The scent of lillies from the middle of the table made for a sedative like no other. Her hair constantly smelled of lillies.
Sweet dreams were suddenly ripped from my mind as there was a pounding at the door. Half dead, I dazedly made my way for the door. More pounding made for more unpleasantries in my head. Pulling the door open with an attitude, I froze when two police officers stood before me. They wore grim expressions.
Intuition made my heart sink before my conscious mind could even make out the words spoken from beneath the mustache of the gruff man before me. Thrown.. Impact.. Sorry... Identity....
I woke up in a hospital bed. The window revealed the sobering pre-glow of dawn. I felt for my head but a wrapped bandage is all I found. The previous day came flooding back wih speed harsher than the inevitable decay of the human body. I broke down into a sob nearest to death throws. My mind made fuzzy, everything but her. She was gone and I could do nothing. She was gone.
Ringing for a nurse, my frantic pleas only resulted in forced sedation. Through tears, my eyes unwillingly closed to the team of nurses restraining me... No, there was something else.. Some glint in the air, just past the head nurse's permed curls... What.. was......
I awoke to the gesture of two detectives. They told me they had some standard questions to ask of me. Compliant, i answered them as best I could. For their final question, I was asked what I would do now.
"I wish I could do it all again," I answered without hesitation.
I closed my eyes and rested my head as they quietly departed the room. My mind went blank........ Buzzing, wind reppling my entire body, the warmth of the sun. Eyes open, an aerial view of.. Giant flowers? Decending upon one, the familiar scent of lillies. | It started out as a normal day. I was spending my free time surfing reddit and watching youtube only to be interrupted by my father.
“Your clothes are everywhere! Pick them up and put them in the wash.” He said in a firm voice.
“Okay, give me five minutes.” I replied.
“Now! I know what five minutes means to you.” He scolded.
To avoid fighting with him about it I decided I would quickly do as he says. I gathered up all my clothes and took them to the basement where our washer and dryer were. I packed the washer full of all my dirty laundry. I did not want to waste time doing two separate loads—there were other things I would rather be doing. As soon as I turned it on water started going everywhere. I immediately stop the washer and open it up.
**POP!**
Something flew out of the washer and hit me in the head. I tripped and landed head first into a nearby shelf. I remember waking up to a talking fly.
“I must have a concussion or something” I muttered to myself.
I get up and swat the fly away from me and head upstairs. Meanwhile the ”fly” was screaming at me “Wait I must explain the rules!”, not that I could hear anything from the fly—nor was I paying any attention to it. I must go, reluctantly, tell my father about the washer incident. Maybe he will take pity on me because I fell and hit my head.
______
“The RULES!” Said the fly one last time in an inaudible mummer.
The rules were clearly written on a small piece of paper. The average human would need a X25 magnifying glass to read it though. The paper read:
“Rule 1: All wishes must begin with “I wish...”, and be spoken.*”
“Rule 2: Wishing for more wishes will not grant more wishes—in fact you will lose one wish”
“Rule 3: The genie cannot deny you any wish you ask for—as long as you follow these rules”
“*Some wishes may be granted if there is an extreme emotional attachment to the phrase you speak.”
______
I get up the courage to tell my father after fifteen minutes of replaying the story in my head, trying to paint myself in a better light every time in hopes of avoiding severe punishment.
“Dad...” I pause waiting for him to acknowledge me.
“I think the washer is broken” I said with guilt in my eyes.
“Oh, really?” he said averting his full attention on me now.
“I don't suppose you know why it's broken do you?” He continued.
I knew this was a question he would ask, but still had yet to work out a decent response.
“Yes” I muttered.
His eyes now burned into me.
“It's probably because I packed my dirty laundry into it..” I said slowly.
I knew I had to tell the truth after looking at him, or else this would have been much worse off.
“DAMN IT” he shouted.
“I have told you time and time again NOT to do that!” he said angrily.
“But it's an old washer dad. Maybe it's time for a new one?” I said without really thinking.
“It's only two years old!” He exclaimed.
“Ya, we replace a lot of electronics after two years though. Like my phone for example.” I remarked again without clearly thinking. I just got my new phone last week. Top of the line phone that everyone wanted that week.
“Oh, speaking of your phone—give it here. You are grounded. No phone. No computer. No internet.” He said with a crooked smile.
“Don't take it all. Take one thing! Come on... I didn't mean to break the washer it was only an accident! I don't deserve this big of a punishment!.” I tried arguing.
“Don't fight me on this. The decision is final. Any more out of you and it will only get worse.” His words like were like fire. I felt a strong, uncontrollable, angry rage swelling up inside me. Every second that passed it grew exponentially. After 10 seconds of silence I screamed while holding back the tears
“**GO TO HELL!**”
I try to make an escape to my room only to be blocked by my mother.
“What did you just say?” my mother chimed in.
“You need to apologize right not, or else your grounding will be a lot longer!” she said fiercely.
The anger still burning in my heart. I muttered to her under my breath
“*I wish you would burn in a fire.*”.
Stunned my mother took a step back. Though she was not looking at me at this point. Her being stunned was an understatement. She was looking at my father, but before I had a chance to turn around my mother yelled at me “**RUN, LEAVE, GET OUT**”.
Confused and stunned for a moment I just stared at her. The anger hit me again.
“**FINE!**” I yelled.
I booked it for my room without looking back. I jumped into my bed, put on my headphones, and cried for ten minutes.
____
My parents were in a crises for those ten minutes I was gone. Just before I ran to my room my mother watched in fear as a Hell gate opened up behind my father.
“Richard! Behind you!” my mother screeched.
My father turned around as five molten hot chains came out of the Hell gate and attached themselves to my father ankles, wrists, and neck. My mother could hear the sizzle of my fathers skin. She could hear his voiceless cry for help in his eyes. She made a fearless dash to try and save him. Wrapping her arms around him as the chains burned her skin.
“I won't let you go!” she panted.
A deep and demonic voice ran through the Hell gates.
“We are not here for you.” said the voice.
At the same time her husband was ripped from her arms.
“But we can not leave you fearless effort to save you loved one unrewarded.” the voice rang in a taunt.
The voice gave no chance for my mother to think. Out burst a golden red flame that slowly burned her to death.
_____
During those ten minutes I felt the house get hotter and hotter. At first I thought it was just me, but then it became apparent to me that it was unnaturally hot in the house. I felt my anger rage on again. My mother does not like to run the A/C unless absolutely needed. That was the only explanation I could think of. Enraged I start heading out my room while yelling at my mom.
“Why can't we have the A/C on right now it's like 100*F in here!” I said heading to my door.
“You know mom!” I said while opening the door.
“Sometimes I wish you were...”
As I was finishing my sentence my eyes witnessed the destruction that had just happened. My mother clinging to life while still engulfed in a flame. I could hear my fathers screams. I saw Hell. It all hit me. I realized all my wishes just came true, but I couldn't stop my last wish. I no longer had control over what my mouth was going to speak, but I knew what was about to happen.
“BORN!”.
| |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Hey, did you call me up here? I've almost cleaned the basement" I said, "Just like you asked."
"Finally." she replied, her face sourer than a lemon.
"God, is nothing I say ever good enough for you?" I asked "Sometimes I wish I had never married you."
Everything froze for a minute. A whirring noise assaulted my ears. Then a click.
Suddenly time began again.
The woman in front of me was my wife, but something was different. My gut stuck out an extra foot in front of me, and I was wearing overalls. Then I noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
"Thank you so much!" she said to me, "How much do I owe you?"
I looked down in confusion at the clipboard in my hands.
Balance owed: $150
"Uhh... $150?" I asked.
"Okay." she said "Really you are a lifesaver, I don't know how else we would've cleaned that basement."
"No problem..." I said "It's just my job" My mouth was moving, but the words weren't mine. It was as if I had been transported into a different dimension.
"I wish I knew what was going on." I mumbled.
BANG! SNAP! Suddenly everything vanished. I was in a white cavern, surrounded by small lizards singing "Boo boo la la boo boo la la boo boo la la" in perfect unison.
A great black office chair sat in front of me and slowly swiveled to face me.
A blue man sat there, wearing a turban and holding a golden goblet.
He looked at me. Frowned.
"Do you not know?" he asked.
"Uhh know what?" I replied.
"Do you not know what's going on?" He demanded.
"No?" I said.
"You freed me in universe 1,345,777,239 XJBY and I granted your first wish of 'I wish I had never married you.' You were then transported to universe 1,345,777,238 XJBM where you had never married her. This is what you wanted, no?"
"What do you mean I freed you?" I said.
"Well, in the basement, there was a beer bottle with a candle sitting on top. That was my universal access point for that particular universe. When you removed the candle, you gave me power there, and for that I gave you three wishes. Did you not hear me?"
"No." I hadn't.
"Well, no matter... you have one wish remaining, what is it you desire? Gold? Money? Sex? The body of a god? Nothing is outside your reach..."
"Well..." I thought for a minute, "I wish I had been aware that something was going to happen when I opened that bottle, then I would've..."
BANG SNAP! CRACKLE!
I was in the basement, my head hurt slightly. What was I doing?
Oh yes, cleaning so my wife would be happy.
I picked up a tattered Mexican blanket, and saw a beer bottle underneath, with a candle on top. Something about it seemed familiar. I felt like I knew that if I did something with it... something would happen. It was an incredibly vague sense of unease though.
I picked it up slowly, looking at the white candle stuck in the top... the rivers of wax had run down the sides and made the bottle look like it had a mop of white hair.
I tugged on the candle. It came out with a popping noise.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
I heard a voice calling out faintly. It must be my wife upstairs. I turned and headed up the creaky wooden stairs, looking back one time at the almost fully cleaned basement...
She would be happy I had finally gotten around to it.
I smiled and opened the door to the kitchen. | It started out as a normal day. I was spending my free time surfing reddit and watching youtube only to be interrupted by my father.
“Your clothes are everywhere! Pick them up and put them in the wash.” He said in a firm voice.
“Okay, give me five minutes.” I replied.
“Now! I know what five minutes means to you.” He scolded.
To avoid fighting with him about it I decided I would quickly do as he says. I gathered up all my clothes and took them to the basement where our washer and dryer were. I packed the washer full of all my dirty laundry. I did not want to waste time doing two separate loads—there were other things I would rather be doing. As soon as I turned it on water started going everywhere. I immediately stop the washer and open it up.
**POP!**
Something flew out of the washer and hit me in the head. I tripped and landed head first into a nearby shelf. I remember waking up to a talking fly.
“I must have a concussion or something” I muttered to myself.
I get up and swat the fly away from me and head upstairs. Meanwhile the ”fly” was screaming at me “Wait I must explain the rules!”, not that I could hear anything from the fly—nor was I paying any attention to it. I must go, reluctantly, tell my father about the washer incident. Maybe he will take pity on me because I fell and hit my head.
______
“The RULES!” Said the fly one last time in an inaudible mummer.
The rules were clearly written on a small piece of paper. The average human would need a X25 magnifying glass to read it though. The paper read:
“Rule 1: All wishes must begin with “I wish...”, and be spoken.*”
“Rule 2: Wishing for more wishes will not grant more wishes—in fact you will lose one wish”
“Rule 3: The genie cannot deny you any wish you ask for—as long as you follow these rules”
“*Some wishes may be granted if there is an extreme emotional attachment to the phrase you speak.”
______
I get up the courage to tell my father after fifteen minutes of replaying the story in my head, trying to paint myself in a better light every time in hopes of avoiding severe punishment.
“Dad...” I pause waiting for him to acknowledge me.
“I think the washer is broken” I said with guilt in my eyes.
“Oh, really?” he said averting his full attention on me now.
“I don't suppose you know why it's broken do you?” He continued.
I knew this was a question he would ask, but still had yet to work out a decent response.
“Yes” I muttered.
His eyes now burned into me.
“It's probably because I packed my dirty laundry into it..” I said slowly.
I knew I had to tell the truth after looking at him, or else this would have been much worse off.
“DAMN IT” he shouted.
“I have told you time and time again NOT to do that!” he said angrily.
“But it's an old washer dad. Maybe it's time for a new one?” I said without really thinking.
“It's only two years old!” He exclaimed.
“Ya, we replace a lot of electronics after two years though. Like my phone for example.” I remarked again without clearly thinking. I just got my new phone last week. Top of the line phone that everyone wanted that week.
“Oh, speaking of your phone—give it here. You are grounded. No phone. No computer. No internet.” He said with a crooked smile.
“Don't take it all. Take one thing! Come on... I didn't mean to break the washer it was only an accident! I don't deserve this big of a punishment!.” I tried arguing.
“Don't fight me on this. The decision is final. Any more out of you and it will only get worse.” His words like were like fire. I felt a strong, uncontrollable, angry rage swelling up inside me. Every second that passed it grew exponentially. After 10 seconds of silence I screamed while holding back the tears
“**GO TO HELL!**”
I try to make an escape to my room only to be blocked by my mother.
“What did you just say?” my mother chimed in.
“You need to apologize right not, or else your grounding will be a lot longer!” she said fiercely.
The anger still burning in my heart. I muttered to her under my breath
“*I wish you would burn in a fire.*”.
Stunned my mother took a step back. Though she was not looking at me at this point. Her being stunned was an understatement. She was looking at my father, but before I had a chance to turn around my mother yelled at me “**RUN, LEAVE, GET OUT**”.
Confused and stunned for a moment I just stared at her. The anger hit me again.
“**FINE!**” I yelled.
I booked it for my room without looking back. I jumped into my bed, put on my headphones, and cried for ten minutes.
____
My parents were in a crises for those ten minutes I was gone. Just before I ran to my room my mother watched in fear as a Hell gate opened up behind my father.
“Richard! Behind you!” my mother screeched.
My father turned around as five molten hot chains came out of the Hell gate and attached themselves to my father ankles, wrists, and neck. My mother could hear the sizzle of my fathers skin. She could hear his voiceless cry for help in his eyes. She made a fearless dash to try and save him. Wrapping her arms around him as the chains burned her skin.
“I won't let you go!” she panted.
A deep and demonic voice ran through the Hell gates.
“We are not here for you.” said the voice.
At the same time her husband was ripped from her arms.
“But we can not leave you fearless effort to save you loved one unrewarded.” the voice rang in a taunt.
The voice gave no chance for my mother to think. Out burst a golden red flame that slowly burned her to death.
_____
During those ten minutes I felt the house get hotter and hotter. At first I thought it was just me, but then it became apparent to me that it was unnaturally hot in the house. I felt my anger rage on again. My mother does not like to run the A/C unless absolutely needed. That was the only explanation I could think of. Enraged I start heading out my room while yelling at my mom.
“Why can't we have the A/C on right now it's like 100*F in here!” I said heading to my door.
“You know mom!” I said while opening the door.
“Sometimes I wish you were...”
As I was finishing my sentence my eyes witnessed the destruction that had just happened. My mother clinging to life while still engulfed in a flame. I could hear my fathers screams. I saw Hell. It all hit me. I realized all my wishes just came true, but I couldn't stop my last wish. I no longer had control over what my mouth was going to speak, but I knew what was about to happen.
“BORN!”.
| |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "I wish this horrible weekend was over." Terry mumbled to himself as he continued cleaning his basement - A rigorous chore he had been putting off for far too long. His pants began to vibrate as his phone rang. It was work. Great.
"Hello?" Terry asked.
"Terry, it's 2 in the afternoon, where the heck are you" His bossed barked.
"Uh, I'm at home, cleaning my basement."
"Why the hell are you cleaning your apartment when you're supposed to be working?!" Said his boss furiously.
"I'm not supposed to be working. It's Sunday. I don't work on Sundays. Heck, neither do you!" Terry said half annoyed.
"Do you think you're funny? I'm tired of your shit, Terry. You're fired!"
"Wait, what? Hello? Hello?" Terry stayed on the line for another few seconds before conceding to the fact that his boss had already hung up.
Terry looked at his phone, and sure enough, it was Monday. How? He was certain it was Sunday. Friday he went out for drinks, Saturday he spent the day as on his Xbox, and today, Sunday, was for cleaning.
"What? Am I fired? The fuck... I wish I new what was going on here, I swore it was Sunday!"
Suddenly, Terry lost control of his body. His arms, legs, and head were moving on their own. He tried to resist, but it was impossible, his body had other things in mind. He found himself moving toward the corner of the basement he had just cleaned. Before he knew it, he was lying on the ground with his ear to the carpet listening to a distinctively deep voice.
"... and so you see, you only have one wish left." The voice said, clearly Terry has missed a portion of the speech while his body moved him here.
"Wait, what?" Terry asked, still not able to move.
"That's it, you only have one more wish left! Choose it wisely!"
| "Aaaa-choo!"
The dust swirled around the dimly lit basement as I caught the sneeze in the crook of my arm. The dust was swirling around like a plastic bag on an autumn day. I reached into a box, sifting through trash to see if there was anything salvageable or usable.
"Damn, I wish it wasn't so dusty in here."
I sifted through some more trash bags and boxes full of stuff. It took me a good 5 minutes before I realized I wasn't sneezing anymore.
'Huh, that's weird.', I thought before putting another box to the donate to charity pile.
"Damn. I'm so thirsty." I thought. I thought about going up to get a glass of water... but I only had 2 more boxes to sift through. Screw that, I was feeling lazy.
"Ugh, I wish I wasn't so thirsty." Suddenly, my thirst was gone.
'What a weird coincidence...'
An hour later, I was driving to a local church to drop off some boxes. Something caught my eye in the rearview mirror. It was a guy driving somewhat erratically. He wasn't completely off his rocker, but he was definitely swerving a little.
"God, I wish he would drive safer... what a douche."
Suddenly, he straightened out and drove perfectly.
"No way.. fool me once, shame on me... but goddamnit if that isn't the craziest coinci-"
A series of quick deductions left me with a possibility. I looked around as if someone was watching me... I felt so stupid for what I was about to say... fuckin' superstition. But even the slightest chance of it being real was enough to make me go for it.
"I wish I was driving a Ferrari.", I whispered.
Nothing happened.
I felt a bit disappointed. "Must've been my imagination... that was weird as hell though...I could've sworn...", I muttered.
And that was the day I accidentally wasted three wishes. I'm kind of glad I didn't know though... I would have been absolutely livid. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Hey, did you call me up here? I've almost cleaned the basement" I said, "Just like you asked."
"Finally." she replied, her face sourer than a lemon.
"God, is nothing I say ever good enough for you?" I asked "Sometimes I wish I had never married you."
Everything froze for a minute. A whirring noise assaulted my ears. Then a click.
Suddenly time began again.
The woman in front of me was my wife, but something was different. My gut stuck out an extra foot in front of me, and I was wearing overalls. Then I noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
"Thank you so much!" she said to me, "How much do I owe you?"
I looked down in confusion at the clipboard in my hands.
Balance owed: $150
"Uhh... $150?" I asked.
"Okay." she said "Really you are a lifesaver, I don't know how else we would've cleaned that basement."
"No problem..." I said "It's just my job" My mouth was moving, but the words weren't mine. It was as if I had been transported into a different dimension.
"I wish I knew what was going on." I mumbled.
BANG! SNAP! Suddenly everything vanished. I was in a white cavern, surrounded by small lizards singing "Boo boo la la boo boo la la boo boo la la" in perfect unison.
A great black office chair sat in front of me and slowly swiveled to face me.
A blue man sat there, wearing a turban and holding a golden goblet.
He looked at me. Frowned.
"Do you not know?" he asked.
"Uhh know what?" I replied.
"Do you not know what's going on?" He demanded.
"No?" I said.
"You freed me in universe 1,345,777,239 XJBY and I granted your first wish of 'I wish I had never married you.' You were then transported to universe 1,345,777,238 XJBM where you had never married her. This is what you wanted, no?"
"What do you mean I freed you?" I said.
"Well, in the basement, there was a beer bottle with a candle sitting on top. That was my universal access point for that particular universe. When you removed the candle, you gave me power there, and for that I gave you three wishes. Did you not hear me?"
"No." I hadn't.
"Well, no matter... you have one wish remaining, what is it you desire? Gold? Money? Sex? The body of a god? Nothing is outside your reach..."
"Well..." I thought for a minute, "I wish I had been aware that something was going to happen when I opened that bottle, then I would've..."
BANG SNAP! CRACKLE!
I was in the basement, my head hurt slightly. What was I doing?
Oh yes, cleaning so my wife would be happy.
I picked up a tattered Mexican blanket, and saw a beer bottle underneath, with a candle on top. Something about it seemed familiar. I felt like I knew that if I did something with it... something would happen. It was an incredibly vague sense of unease though.
I picked it up slowly, looking at the white candle stuck in the top... the rivers of wax had run down the sides and made the bottle look like it had a mop of white hair.
I tugged on the candle. It came out with a popping noise.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
I heard a voice calling out faintly. It must be my wife upstairs. I turned and headed up the creaky wooden stairs, looking back one time at the almost fully cleaned basement...
She would be happy I had finally gotten around to it.
I smiled and opened the door to the kitchen. | "Aaaa-choo!"
The dust swirled around the dimly lit basement as I caught the sneeze in the crook of my arm. The dust was swirling around like a plastic bag on an autumn day. I reached into a box, sifting through trash to see if there was anything salvageable or usable.
"Damn, I wish it wasn't so dusty in here."
I sifted through some more trash bags and boxes full of stuff. It took me a good 5 minutes before I realized I wasn't sneezing anymore.
'Huh, that's weird.', I thought before putting another box to the donate to charity pile.
"Damn. I'm so thirsty." I thought. I thought about going up to get a glass of water... but I only had 2 more boxes to sift through. Screw that, I was feeling lazy.
"Ugh, I wish I wasn't so thirsty." Suddenly, my thirst was gone.
'What a weird coincidence...'
An hour later, I was driving to a local church to drop off some boxes. Something caught my eye in the rearview mirror. It was a guy driving somewhat erratically. He wasn't completely off his rocker, but he was definitely swerving a little.
"God, I wish he would drive safer... what a douche."
Suddenly, he straightened out and drove perfectly.
"No way.. fool me once, shame on me... but goddamnit if that isn't the craziest coinci-"
A series of quick deductions left me with a possibility. I looked around as if someone was watching me... I felt so stupid for what I was about to say... fuckin' superstition. But even the slightest chance of it being real was enough to make me go for it.
"I wish I was driving a Ferrari.", I whispered.
Nothing happened.
I felt a bit disappointed. "Must've been my imagination... that was weird as hell though...I could've sworn...", I muttered.
And that was the day I accidentally wasted three wishes. I'm kind of glad I didn't know though... I would have been absolutely livid. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "I wish that I could clean this basement faster."
It happened almost instantly. Objects arranging themselves into neat piles and on the shelves, water just moving around the floor to clear the dust off and hell, even the dead rat's corpse just stood up and walked out leaving me dumbfounded.
"What the hell? I sure wish I knew what was going on..."
And again, another strange thing happened. A little man jumped out right in front of my face and told me he was a genie and I have three wishes. That was the best thing I've ever heard in my life and...
"Awwww man, I wish I had known this earlier!"
Oh crap! | "Aaaa-choo!"
The dust swirled around the dimly lit basement as I caught the sneeze in the crook of my arm. The dust was swirling around like a plastic bag on an autumn day. I reached into a box, sifting through trash to see if there was anything salvageable or usable.
"Damn, I wish it wasn't so dusty in here."
I sifted through some more trash bags and boxes full of stuff. It took me a good 5 minutes before I realized I wasn't sneezing anymore.
'Huh, that's weird.', I thought before putting another box to the donate to charity pile.
"Damn. I'm so thirsty." I thought. I thought about going up to get a glass of water... but I only had 2 more boxes to sift through. Screw that, I was feeling lazy.
"Ugh, I wish I wasn't so thirsty." Suddenly, my thirst was gone.
'What a weird coincidence...'
An hour later, I was driving to a local church to drop off some boxes. Something caught my eye in the rearview mirror. It was a guy driving somewhat erratically. He wasn't completely off his rocker, but he was definitely swerving a little.
"God, I wish he would drive safer... what a douche."
Suddenly, he straightened out and drove perfectly.
"No way.. fool me once, shame on me... but goddamnit if that isn't the craziest coinci-"
A series of quick deductions left me with a possibility. I looked around as if someone was watching me... I felt so stupid for what I was about to say... fuckin' superstition. But even the slightest chance of it being real was enough to make me go for it.
"I wish I was driving a Ferrari.", I whispered.
Nothing happened.
I felt a bit disappointed. "Must've been my imagination... that was weird as hell though...I could've sworn...", I muttered.
And that was the day I accidentally wasted three wishes. I'm kind of glad I didn't know though... I would have been absolutely livid. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Your not going anywhere till you clean that basement Kevin!"
I was livid, the basement was a wreck and now I had to clean it. It had to be a good 10 years worth of junk and dust down there and god knows what kind of insects.
My worthless father had been dumping stuff down there for years, spending money our family didn't have on junk we didn't need, then allowing it live out its last lonely years gathering dust in our basement.
"It better be spotless down there or I swear to god you will clean the attic as well"
"That's totally unfair mum it's a wreck down here and I .. I"
"I don't give a crap Kevin, I said spotless."
It was pointless arguing, I knew well there was no way around mum when she was in this mood, so I go to work.
After tireless lifting rotting cardboard box after cardboard box, I had decided that if I was going to be forced to clean this basement I was at least going to make something out of it, I had began sifting through the boxes of junk to seize anything valuable enough to make a few bucks on and dumping all the stuff that was quite literally useless junk.
After what seemed like an eternity I had cleared a somewhat modest amount of room in the basement, and I had a particularly hefty loot pile that I was certain would at least buy me a new bike according to my extensive knowledge of the history channel's 'Auction Hunters'. It mostly consisted of old ornaments and some in tact toys and sports equipment.
I hurriedly finished what I could for the day, shifting things into corners so to my mothers eye it looked like I'd done a lot more, I grabbed my loot and placed it in one of the in tact boxes that was leftover and brought it up to my room.
I had decided that if I was going to sell this lot, i'd probably get a lot more if I cleaned them up a bit first, so I grabbed some kitchen roll and furniture polish and began buffing up my ill gotten gains.
It didn't take long to bring them all up to a reasonable finish, I packed them into the box and sneaked out the house and headed for the pawn shop which was about an hours walk away.
"Urgh I wish I didn't have to walk with this stupid box" I muttered under my breath as I was walking, the box still smelled of damp and was pretty heavy and difficult to carry. Suddenly a car stopped next to me, it was my mother. "Shit" I muttered.
"Get in the car" She exhaled in a breathe of pure fury.
I climbed in and placed the box on the seat in the back next to me, there was absolutely no way I was getting in the front to get a face full of the spit my mother was about to exhaust at me.
"Where the F*** do you think your going?" She fumed.
"The pawn shop" I whimpered.
"WHAT DID I SAY, you were not to leave the house till the basement was clean, now you CAN clean the attic aswell."
"I wish you weren't a bitch all the time" I said in the briefest of whispers so slight that it was incomprehensible to my mother.
"What was that?" She asked, in a somewhat reasonable tone.
"Oh, nothing I just wanted to make a few bucks on these things so I could buy myself a bike, I thought i'd make use out of the junk down there if I could you know" I proclaimed, in my youngest of voices.
"Fine, I'll take you to the pawn shop" She replied.
This was unprecedented, it usually took mum 3 to 4 days to cool down, and in that time every conversation would be met with bitter anger, now she was actually doing me a favour and giving me a lift, this was weird.
We arrived at the pawn shop and I headed in, while my mother waited in the car, I waddled up to the desk with my box and dropped it down on the counter.
"Hey man I was wondering how much I could get for this stuff?" I asked
"Sure, bro" he responded.
I started to hand him item after item each getting a puny valuation but with all the items so far I knew I had enough for the bike. I reached into the box to grab the last item the one you saved for last because it looked 'old' the oil lamp, made of brass or some other shiny metal.
"What that you got there?" The shopkeeper asked
"Think its an oil lamp." I replied
"Maybe it's a genie lamp" He snorted.
"Haha, I wish." I chuckled in response.
"$60 for it"
"done" I exclaimed.
I snatched up my money and hopped into my mum's car.
"What a mug" I chuckled to myself "I've seen thousands of them things sell on auction hunters for like $5"
My mother started the car and we headed for home so I could continue cleaning the basement and now the attic, but what do I care, I got a brand new bike out of it. | "Aaaa-choo!"
The dust swirled around the dimly lit basement as I caught the sneeze in the crook of my arm. The dust was swirling around like a plastic bag on an autumn day. I reached into a box, sifting through trash to see if there was anything salvageable or usable.
"Damn, I wish it wasn't so dusty in here."
I sifted through some more trash bags and boxes full of stuff. It took me a good 5 minutes before I realized I wasn't sneezing anymore.
'Huh, that's weird.', I thought before putting another box to the donate to charity pile.
"Damn. I'm so thirsty." I thought. I thought about going up to get a glass of water... but I only had 2 more boxes to sift through. Screw that, I was feeling lazy.
"Ugh, I wish I wasn't so thirsty." Suddenly, my thirst was gone.
'What a weird coincidence...'
An hour later, I was driving to a local church to drop off some boxes. Something caught my eye in the rearview mirror. It was a guy driving somewhat erratically. He wasn't completely off his rocker, but he was definitely swerving a little.
"God, I wish he would drive safer... what a douche."
Suddenly, he straightened out and drove perfectly.
"No way.. fool me once, shame on me... but goddamnit if that isn't the craziest coinci-"
A series of quick deductions left me with a possibility. I looked around as if someone was watching me... I felt so stupid for what I was about to say... fuckin' superstition. But even the slightest chance of it being real was enough to make me go for it.
"I wish I was driving a Ferrari.", I whispered.
Nothing happened.
I felt a bit disappointed. "Must've been my imagination... that was weird as hell though...I could've sworn...", I muttered.
And that was the day I accidentally wasted three wishes. I'm kind of glad I didn't know though... I would have been absolutely livid. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | I have terrible taste in music - I mean terrible.
Well, to be fair, I don't actually *like* most of the songs I find myself obsessively singing, they just get stuck in my head and I find myself unconsciously singing them for weeks on end. Half the time I'm not even aware I'm doing it unless someone says something to me. I'm pretty lucky in that my wife actually finds this to be a rather endearing quality in me, especially as I quietly sang *Baby Got Back* through out the first month of our courtship, and again in the weeks up to our marriage. We spent out honeymoon in the south a France. We wandered through vineyards, I drank wine, she ate cheese, and I quietly sang *Move Bitch, Get Out the Way...*
"*Da da da da da daa daa* Good lord this basement is filthy."
We'd been home exactly one week. We had agreed that we could wait one week before tackling the mess that was our home. After a wedding and a month in France, the house was beginning to look like an episode of hoarders. We had decided to start in the basement and work up.
My wife glanced up from a pile of rubbish that was beginning to resemble the Tower of Babel and said,
"You're the one who wanted to clean this mess up. I was perfectly content spending another day in bed." She winked at me, turned around, and bent at the waist in a way that should probably be illegal.
"*Da da da... I wish I wa...* You are dangerous woman. Hey, whats this?" I picked up a tiny bronze lamp and held it up to the light. Waist deep in what appeared to be empty cardboard boxes, my wife glance up,
"Oh, that's probably just something from my old Barbie sets. Just throw it out."
"*Do de... scheme a way... da da* Yes ma'am." The little trinket went in the garbage and I turned to tackle the boxes behind me.
As I turn, I banged my head soundly on the ceiling joist. My wife giggled. Rubbing my head and swearing, I pulled down the next box on the shelf.
"*Dum da... wish i was a b...* looks like all that French wine made me grow an inch."
"Suuuuuure dear, keep telling yourself that."
"He look!" The box contained old tennis balls; I began juggling.
"Baller," my wife said with a smirk. She sat down on a box and watched. "How long do you think you can keep that up... if I do this?" She slowly unhooked the top button of her blouse. I managed to keep it the balls airborne until her shirt came all the way off. After that, I had no hope whatsoever.
We lay the aftermath, my wife softly stroking my chest.
"You know, we haven't used a condom in the last month..." She had a thoughtful look on her face.
"*Da da... who looked good...* Oh well? And kid we make will be awesome." I smile down at her.
"SHE will look good too," she smiled back. My wife really wanted our first to be a girl.
We decide to abandon the basement for later and work on the kitchen instead. We got dressed, and headed back upstairs.
"*Da da da de da da* OWW! " This time, I nailed my head on the frame of the basement door. My wife pulled me down and kissed my forehead.
"Maybe you DID get a little bit taller... What ARE you singing??"
"Oh, that stupid song by Skee-Lo," my wife looked blank. "Oh you know:
I wish I was little bit taller
I wish I was a baller
I wish I had a girl who looked good"
| "Aaaa-choo!"
The dust swirled around the dimly lit basement as I caught the sneeze in the crook of my arm. The dust was swirling around like a plastic bag on an autumn day. I reached into a box, sifting through trash to see if there was anything salvageable or usable.
"Damn, I wish it wasn't so dusty in here."
I sifted through some more trash bags and boxes full of stuff. It took me a good 5 minutes before I realized I wasn't sneezing anymore.
'Huh, that's weird.', I thought before putting another box to the donate to charity pile.
"Damn. I'm so thirsty." I thought. I thought about going up to get a glass of water... but I only had 2 more boxes to sift through. Screw that, I was feeling lazy.
"Ugh, I wish I wasn't so thirsty." Suddenly, my thirst was gone.
'What a weird coincidence...'
An hour later, I was driving to a local church to drop off some boxes. Something caught my eye in the rearview mirror. It was a guy driving somewhat erratically. He wasn't completely off his rocker, but he was definitely swerving a little.
"God, I wish he would drive safer... what a douche."
Suddenly, he straightened out and drove perfectly.
"No way.. fool me once, shame on me... but goddamnit if that isn't the craziest coinci-"
A series of quick deductions left me with a possibility. I looked around as if someone was watching me... I felt so stupid for what I was about to say... fuckin' superstition. But even the slightest chance of it being real was enough to make me go for it.
"I wish I was driving a Ferrari.", I whispered.
Nothing happened.
I felt a bit disappointed. "Must've been my imagination... that was weird as hell though...I could've sworn...", I muttered.
And that was the day I accidentally wasted three wishes. I'm kind of glad I didn't know though... I would have been absolutely livid. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | Exhausted from a double-shift at your local Greasy Spoon & Bar, I flick on the TV. My son, 5, is up and bawling for attention despite the late hour, and his mother is too busy running lines of coke off the tits of her friends at the club to be bothered to be home. *I wish she'd never met those freaks,* I think to myself.
I grab some applesauce from the fridge, something to appease both my son and I, and a shot glass, just for me... unless the little tyke really won't fall asleep. His smile when he sees the bowl is almost worth the tantrum he'll throw when he realizes it's not all for him.
He sits on my lap in our beat-up laz-y-boy recliner, while we munch on Mott's Cinnamon and the talking heads regale us with tales of local misfortune. *Today at six-o-clock, armed robbers were witnessed raiding the local Wall-E-World shopping mart, stealing all manner of electronics and tools. Several people were injured in a shoot-out between the raiders and the local police response force, with four in critical condition. Robberies have been on the rise since the collapse of the global economy in 2019. Wall-E-World spokesman, Albrecht Midas, has this to say...*
I looked towards my son, whose wide smile as I bounced him on my knee offset the applesauce dripping down his chin. "I wish you didn't have to grow up in a world where that sort of thing happens." His smile continued, vacant any reaction to my expression of frustration and goodwill.
I tucked him in again, looking at the clock. 3 am. She won't be coming home again tonight. *Maybe we'd be better off...*
*****
I'm driving down the highway. Everyone is remarkably respectful of the rules of the road, it's like a dream. Everyone's signalling, everyone's merging. I'm driving through a particularly shady neighborhood and see heavily tattooed, muscular guys wearing chains and gold jewelry helping an old lady with her groceries. It's odd; must be one of those serendipitous days where everything just goes right.
I'm headed to a bank. Over the last few weeks I'd been promoted to head bartender, and then to assistant manager. The pay increases meant I could afford a nice home for my son and I, and... well, maybe Andrea too. She'd been on the mend for the last few weeks, too. Usually that just meant she'd drank way too much and felt like shit, then realized she was out of money for coke, and her dealers wouldn't sleep with her because they had a new piece that was more interesting. But she'd really been helping out, doing the dishes and helping get Billy ready for school. Maybe this time was different.
At the bank, there was an orderly queue. Every five minutes like clockwork another customer would be asked to proceed to the window. Strangely, some of them were returning to the line. *That's odd...*
Eventually I make it to the front, where a well-dressed man asks how he can help. I explain that I'm looking for a loan, while he smiles and nods politely, then points at another line. "Our loan specialist, Joan, will be happy to help you. Please enter that queue--"
"Look, I only have about a half an hour before I need to get to work. Is there any way you could help me?"
"I'm sorry sir. Our loan specialist is the one you'll need to speak to about originating a loan, I'm not able to help you. It shouldn't be long."
I wait in the queue, grumbling in my mind. *I wish this was all easy. Money, family, life. Too much talking and paperwork to make things happen.* I reach the front of the line, where Joan, the loan specialist, takes my information and begins the process to approve me for my home loan. After five minutes, she asks me to step aside for the next customer.
"But we're not done!"
"Yes sir, but bank policy states that we can only spend a maximum of five minutes per customer."
"I can't wait for the line again, I have to go to work!"
"We are available at the posted hours to assist you, should you decide to return!" She smiled, as though this was helpful to me.
"Can't you make an exception this time?"
"I'm sorry, sir. That would be breaking the rules. If we did that for you, then everyone else would think they could break the rules too. I'm sure you don't want to live in a world where that kind of thing happens. It would be madness!"
Ignoring the odd choice of phrase, I returned to my car, driving to work. I reached the parking lot, where the assistant manager's space was blocked by a hearse. *Oh, no...* I thought, as I prepared to find another spot to part. But, just as I approached, the vehicle moved.
Jenny, our bus-girl and events-coordinator met me at the door. "Frank, did you hear?"
"I saw a hearse. What's happened?"
"The owner's gone, slipped on a grease-spot and hit his head on the counter. Didn't end well for him, ambulance declared him DOA."
"That's a shame. Uh, are we closed then?"
"You tell me!"
"Huh?"
"Didn't you know? He left you the bar!"
*****
I'd sold the bar a few years later, but not before I was able to franchise it across the tri-state area. I'd always thought it'd be fun to drive fast cars for a living, and my financial success meant that I got to test drive a few. A talent scout had seen me at the track and offered me a sponsorship if I'd enter as a rookie driver for his company. I've been topping rookie charts for about two years now, and don't look to be slowing down. It just feels easy, like people literally move out of the way when they see me coming.
My son is in private school, really doing well with grades and the ladies. Andrea finally cleaned up, got a part time job designing Hallmark cards and spends most of her time helping raise our son. Our relationship is improving... she comes to all my races and enjoys being the girl beside the rookie of the year.
All in all, life is good.
*****
"This is Frank," a blue-skinned imp described laconically to the audience. "Observe: in his world, nobody breaks the rules. His wife has no friends through which to express her need to feel carefree, and will shoot herself within the next two years due to that absence of independence and the release offered by pursuing her vices. Queue times are exhaustive due to the inability for employees to break company policy and spend the needed amount of time with customers. Some companies have addressed this by stating that employees are to spend as much time as needed to help every customer. Trolls are thus able to exacerbate the problem by continually stating their problem is not solved... resulting in significant overtime hours billed by employees and occasionally bankrupting companies trying to do the right thing.
Frank himself will never realize this, because everything comes easily to him. People move out of his way when he drives, money falls into his lap when it is needed, everyone he meets is inclined to love him. He's created a narcissistic bubble in which he is king. We've found that nine times out of ten, humans will repeatedly do the same. Let's move to the next exhibit.
This is John..."
The young genies-in-training followed along curiously, taking notes and observing the differences between each world, and the folly of humans and other species, as the unintentional consequences of their actions had significant impact on the world around them. One remarked to the other, "The Apocalypse Prevention Center and Wish Oversight Committee are certainly thorough. Capturing the humans and simulating their wishes is *way* safer than changing the world."
"But how does it work? I thought we *had* to grant their wishes."
"Look at Frank! Nobody breaks the rules, everything is easy, and his wife doesn't know who those friends were. All his wishes *are* fulfilled. We just didn't have to make the rest of the world suffer for it."
As they moved exhibit to exhibit, occasionally little blue genies would catapult down tubes from the outside world, to the Apocalypse Prevention Center's core nexus, with yet another human in tow, inevitably towards the door with the sign above it, "Reality is what *you* make of it." | "Aaaa-choo!"
The dust swirled around the dimly lit basement as I caught the sneeze in the crook of my arm. The dust was swirling around like a plastic bag on an autumn day. I reached into a box, sifting through trash to see if there was anything salvageable or usable.
"Damn, I wish it wasn't so dusty in here."
I sifted through some more trash bags and boxes full of stuff. It took me a good 5 minutes before I realized I wasn't sneezing anymore.
'Huh, that's weird.', I thought before putting another box to the donate to charity pile.
"Damn. I'm so thirsty." I thought. I thought about going up to get a glass of water... but I only had 2 more boxes to sift through. Screw that, I was feeling lazy.
"Ugh, I wish I wasn't so thirsty." Suddenly, my thirst was gone.
'What a weird coincidence...'
An hour later, I was driving to a local church to drop off some boxes. Something caught my eye in the rearview mirror. It was a guy driving somewhat erratically. He wasn't completely off his rocker, but he was definitely swerving a little.
"God, I wish he would drive safer... what a douche."
Suddenly, he straightened out and drove perfectly.
"No way.. fool me once, shame on me... but goddamnit if that isn't the craziest coinci-"
A series of quick deductions left me with a possibility. I looked around as if someone was watching me... I felt so stupid for what I was about to say... fuckin' superstition. But even the slightest chance of it being real was enough to make me go for it.
"I wish I was driving a Ferrari.", I whispered.
Nothing happened.
I felt a bit disappointed. "Must've been my imagination... that was weird as hell though...I could've sworn...", I muttered.
And that was the day I accidentally wasted three wishes. I'm kind of glad I didn't know though... I would have been absolutely livid. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "I wish this horrible weekend was over." Terry mumbled to himself as he continued cleaning his basement - A rigorous chore he had been putting off for far too long. His pants began to vibrate as his phone rang. It was work. Great.
"Hello?" Terry asked.
"Terry, it's 2 in the afternoon, where the heck are you" His bossed barked.
"Uh, I'm at home, cleaning my basement."
"Why the hell are you cleaning your apartment when you're supposed to be working?!" Said his boss furiously.
"I'm not supposed to be working. It's Sunday. I don't work on Sundays. Heck, neither do you!" Terry said half annoyed.
"Do you think you're funny? I'm tired of your shit, Terry. You're fired!"
"Wait, what? Hello? Hello?" Terry stayed on the line for another few seconds before conceding to the fact that his boss had already hung up.
Terry looked at his phone, and sure enough, it was Monday. How? He was certain it was Sunday. Friday he went out for drinks, Saturday he spent the day as on his Xbox, and today, Sunday, was for cleaning.
"What? Am I fired? The fuck... I wish I new what was going on here, I swore it was Sunday!"
Suddenly, Terry lost control of his body. His arms, legs, and head were moving on their own. He tried to resist, but it was impossible, his body had other things in mind. He found himself moving toward the corner of the basement he had just cleaned. Before he knew it, he was lying on the ground with his ear to the carpet listening to a distinctively deep voice.
"... and so you see, you only have one wish left." The voice said, clearly Terry has missed a portion of the speech while his body moved him here.
"Wait, what?" Terry asked, still not able to move.
"That's it, you only have one more wish left! Choose it wisely!"
| The light coming through the curtains gently brushed the night from the pile of clothes on top of the chair, from the books on my nightstand, from my husband’s hair still resting on his pillow. A distant rattle became more and more present, and finally as I reached out, Pepper jumped to the bed to say good morning.
I woke up confused, trying to remember what day of the week it was and hoping that it would be a Saturday. Alas, it was Tuesday. I looked at my phone: 7:23. I am not a morning person, never have been. Well, this is how it goes: I’ll get dressed in silence while my husband reads the news to me. I’ll listen, but I won’t comment. I refuse to have an opinion until I’ve had a cup of coffee.
I’ll walk to the station and squeeze myself in an overcrowded train, I’ll hope for a seat but if I’m lucky I’ll get to lean against the door. I’ll get to the office and pretend to be productive for approximately 8 hours at the end of which I’ll squeeze myself in another overcrowded train. Rinse and repeat.
I reached out for the dainty wooden box where I put my earrings last night. We found it yesterday in the depths of the basement, at the bottom of one of many cardboard boxes full with Tupperware, magazines and old garden tools. I have no idea how it got there, but it the intricate inlaid work granted it a privileged place on my nightstand. I put on my earrings, the little gold ones with a teardrop, and the transformation was complete.
I felt incredibly underwhelmed as I assembled my lunch: a can of tuna, an avocado, three rice cakes.
From his bowl of cereal Jim asked:
*What is the matter?*
*My lunch is boring. I wish I had something nicer to eat today.*
*Oh, I’m sorry. Wait, I think I still have a voucher they gave me near your office. Yeah, here it is.*
He said as he went through some papers on his desk.
*Free pizza or pasta on your next visit. It’s still valid, do you want it?*
I snatched that little leaflet with a grin.
Jim received me with a kiss and holding Pepper on one arm.
*How was your day?*
*Day was boring as usual, but the pizza was nice! Probably my last one in a while, I've been too naughty lately and my jeans are starting to feel too tight. You know, I wish I was one of those people who can eat anything they want without putting on any weight!*
*So no fish and chips for dinner?*
*You can have some if you want, I´ll do a salad.*
Dinner and a movie later, I was sitting on the bed getting ready to go to sleep. I looked at him as I took off my earrings and put them back in the wooden box. If only we didn't have to go to work tomorrow... If only we could grab our suitcases and go anywhere on an adventure.... Jim smiled at me and I wondered, how it would be like to be free to do whatever we wanted with our time.
*A penny for your thoughts?*
*I wish we could win the lottery! We´d be sipping cocktails tomorrow...*
*You know, to win the lottery you have to buy a ticket.*
*Yeah... it's a tax for fools, though.* | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Hey, did you call me up here? I've almost cleaned the basement" I said, "Just like you asked."
"Finally." she replied, her face sourer than a lemon.
"God, is nothing I say ever good enough for you?" I asked "Sometimes I wish I had never married you."
Everything froze for a minute. A whirring noise assaulted my ears. Then a click.
Suddenly time began again.
The woman in front of me was my wife, but something was different. My gut stuck out an extra foot in front of me, and I was wearing overalls. Then I noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
"Thank you so much!" she said to me, "How much do I owe you?"
I looked down in confusion at the clipboard in my hands.
Balance owed: $150
"Uhh... $150?" I asked.
"Okay." she said "Really you are a lifesaver, I don't know how else we would've cleaned that basement."
"No problem..." I said "It's just my job" My mouth was moving, but the words weren't mine. It was as if I had been transported into a different dimension.
"I wish I knew what was going on." I mumbled.
BANG! SNAP! Suddenly everything vanished. I was in a white cavern, surrounded by small lizards singing "Boo boo la la boo boo la la boo boo la la" in perfect unison.
A great black office chair sat in front of me and slowly swiveled to face me.
A blue man sat there, wearing a turban and holding a golden goblet.
He looked at me. Frowned.
"Do you not know?" he asked.
"Uhh know what?" I replied.
"Do you not know what's going on?" He demanded.
"No?" I said.
"You freed me in universe 1,345,777,239 XJBY and I granted your first wish of 'I wish I had never married you.' You were then transported to universe 1,345,777,238 XJBM where you had never married her. This is what you wanted, no?"
"What do you mean I freed you?" I said.
"Well, in the basement, there was a beer bottle with a candle sitting on top. That was my universal access point for that particular universe. When you removed the candle, you gave me power there, and for that I gave you three wishes. Did you not hear me?"
"No." I hadn't.
"Well, no matter... you have one wish remaining, what is it you desire? Gold? Money? Sex? The body of a god? Nothing is outside your reach..."
"Well..." I thought for a minute, "I wish I had been aware that something was going to happen when I opened that bottle, then I would've..."
BANG SNAP! CRACKLE!
I was in the basement, my head hurt slightly. What was I doing?
Oh yes, cleaning so my wife would be happy.
I picked up a tattered Mexican blanket, and saw a beer bottle underneath, with a candle on top. Something about it seemed familiar. I felt like I knew that if I did something with it... something would happen. It was an incredibly vague sense of unease though.
I picked it up slowly, looking at the white candle stuck in the top... the rivers of wax had run down the sides and made the bottle look like it had a mop of white hair.
I tugged on the candle. It came out with a popping noise.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
I heard a voice calling out faintly. It must be my wife upstairs. I turned and headed up the creaky wooden stairs, looking back one time at the almost fully cleaned basement...
She would be happy I had finally gotten around to it.
I smiled and opened the door to the kitchen. | The light coming through the curtains gently brushed the night from the pile of clothes on top of the chair, from the books on my nightstand, from my husband’s hair still resting on his pillow. A distant rattle became more and more present, and finally as I reached out, Pepper jumped to the bed to say good morning.
I woke up confused, trying to remember what day of the week it was and hoping that it would be a Saturday. Alas, it was Tuesday. I looked at my phone: 7:23. I am not a morning person, never have been. Well, this is how it goes: I’ll get dressed in silence while my husband reads the news to me. I’ll listen, but I won’t comment. I refuse to have an opinion until I’ve had a cup of coffee.
I’ll walk to the station and squeeze myself in an overcrowded train, I’ll hope for a seat but if I’m lucky I’ll get to lean against the door. I’ll get to the office and pretend to be productive for approximately 8 hours at the end of which I’ll squeeze myself in another overcrowded train. Rinse and repeat.
I reached out for the dainty wooden box where I put my earrings last night. We found it yesterday in the depths of the basement, at the bottom of one of many cardboard boxes full with Tupperware, magazines and old garden tools. I have no idea how it got there, but it the intricate inlaid work granted it a privileged place on my nightstand. I put on my earrings, the little gold ones with a teardrop, and the transformation was complete.
I felt incredibly underwhelmed as I assembled my lunch: a can of tuna, an avocado, three rice cakes.
From his bowl of cereal Jim asked:
*What is the matter?*
*My lunch is boring. I wish I had something nicer to eat today.*
*Oh, I’m sorry. Wait, I think I still have a voucher they gave me near your office. Yeah, here it is.*
He said as he went through some papers on his desk.
*Free pizza or pasta on your next visit. It’s still valid, do you want it?*
I snatched that little leaflet with a grin.
Jim received me with a kiss and holding Pepper on one arm.
*How was your day?*
*Day was boring as usual, but the pizza was nice! Probably my last one in a while, I've been too naughty lately and my jeans are starting to feel too tight. You know, I wish I was one of those people who can eat anything they want without putting on any weight!*
*So no fish and chips for dinner?*
*You can have some if you want, I´ll do a salad.*
Dinner and a movie later, I was sitting on the bed getting ready to go to sleep. I looked at him as I took off my earrings and put them back in the wooden box. If only we didn't have to go to work tomorrow... If only we could grab our suitcases and go anywhere on an adventure.... Jim smiled at me and I wondered, how it would be like to be free to do whatever we wanted with our time.
*A penny for your thoughts?*
*I wish we could win the lottery! We´d be sipping cocktails tomorrow...*
*You know, to win the lottery you have to buy a ticket.*
*Yeah... it's a tax for fools, though.* | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Hey, did you call me up here? I've almost cleaned the basement" I said, "Just like you asked."
"Finally." she replied, her face sourer than a lemon.
"God, is nothing I say ever good enough for you?" I asked "Sometimes I wish I had never married you."
Everything froze for a minute. A whirring noise assaulted my ears. Then a click.
Suddenly time began again.
The woman in front of me was my wife, but something was different. My gut stuck out an extra foot in front of me, and I was wearing overalls. Then I noticed she wasn't wearing a wedding ring.
"Thank you so much!" she said to me, "How much do I owe you?"
I looked down in confusion at the clipboard in my hands.
Balance owed: $150
"Uhh... $150?" I asked.
"Okay." she said "Really you are a lifesaver, I don't know how else we would've cleaned that basement."
"No problem..." I said "It's just my job" My mouth was moving, but the words weren't mine. It was as if I had been transported into a different dimension.
"I wish I knew what was going on." I mumbled.
BANG! SNAP! Suddenly everything vanished. I was in a white cavern, surrounded by small lizards singing "Boo boo la la boo boo la la boo boo la la" in perfect unison.
A great black office chair sat in front of me and slowly swiveled to face me.
A blue man sat there, wearing a turban and holding a golden goblet.
He looked at me. Frowned.
"Do you not know?" he asked.
"Uhh know what?" I replied.
"Do you not know what's going on?" He demanded.
"No?" I said.
"You freed me in universe 1,345,777,239 XJBY and I granted your first wish of 'I wish I had never married you.' You were then transported to universe 1,345,777,238 XJBM where you had never married her. This is what you wanted, no?"
"What do you mean I freed you?" I said.
"Well, in the basement, there was a beer bottle with a candle sitting on top. That was my universal access point for that particular universe. When you removed the candle, you gave me power there, and for that I gave you three wishes. Did you not hear me?"
"No." I hadn't.
"Well, no matter... you have one wish remaining, what is it you desire? Gold? Money? Sex? The body of a god? Nothing is outside your reach..."
"Well..." I thought for a minute, "I wish I had been aware that something was going to happen when I opened that bottle, then I would've..."
BANG SNAP! CRACKLE!
I was in the basement, my head hurt slightly. What was I doing?
Oh yes, cleaning so my wife would be happy.
I picked up a tattered Mexican blanket, and saw a beer bottle underneath, with a candle on top. Something about it seemed familiar. I felt like I knew that if I did something with it... something would happen. It was an incredibly vague sense of unease though.
I picked it up slowly, looking at the white candle stuck in the top... the rivers of wax had run down the sides and made the bottle look like it had a mop of white hair.
I tugged on the candle. It came out with a popping noise.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
I heard a voice calling out faintly. It must be my wife upstairs. I turned and headed up the creaky wooden stairs, looking back one time at the almost fully cleaned basement...
She would be happy I had finally gotten around to it.
I smiled and opened the door to the kitchen. | "Stupid little lamp! Where did you even come from?"
I threw it back across the musty basement towards the questionably stable wooden stairs. Even more trash bags would be necessary of they ever collapsed. They would have to be tended to, but first this collection of junk before me. The way things were precariously stacked, it was reminiscent of the Room of Requirement.
"I wish I knew a spell to help tidy this place up" I announced to nothing.
Suddenly, like an intende pain, sharper than the hottest branding iron. Searing pain, burned into letters. Agony released by tears, my eyes opened. The world was encompassed by a new filter- words. No, maybe symbols. They were almost archaic in nature. Glowing red, everywhere I looked I saw them. Trying to make them out, my mouh moved on its own. The words took root in what may have been Latin.
I blinked, and the bright red filter was gone, along with the strange words. I blinked again and my head was plummeting towards the cold basement floor.
Awaking, what must have been hours later, the basement was pitch black. The light that had dazedly brushed through the dusty particles on the window was now gone.
The day had broke, and the must of the basement must have nearly enveloped me. Pushing myself over to sit, my shorts were immediately soaked. Pulling out my phone from its designated pocket, my fingers fumbled to open the flashlight app. Once open, my attention turned to a small pool of blood on the concrete floor.
"Shit, that explains the lightheadedness. Maggie's going to have a fit when she sees the damage."
Pondering what I might tell her in explanation, I slowly made my way to the stairs. As I reached the base, and my light flicked up towards the door, my foot kicked something small and metal. Paying it no mind, my hand gripped a handful of splinters as I propelled myself up the protesting old steps.
Mind too numb to find a care for anything but Maggie, I closed the app as I turned on the kitchen light. I noted the time, a quarter after nine. She would be on her way home soon. A sense of ease spread through me. Plagued by a horrible headache, my hand reached for my head. Dry blood lined my brow. Calling 911 occured to me as a good idea, but without insurance...
With another surge of brutal cranial pressure, a cry escaped. A glance at the time, followed by a groan of annoyance. "I wish she'd hurry up."
I slipped off into sleep at the kitchen table. The scent of lillies from the middle of the table made for a sedative like no other. Her hair constantly smelled of lillies.
Sweet dreams were suddenly ripped from my mind as there was a pounding at the door. Half dead, I dazedly made my way for the door. More pounding made for more unpleasantries in my head. Pulling the door open with an attitude, I froze when two police officers stood before me. They wore grim expressions.
Intuition made my heart sink before my conscious mind could even make out the words spoken from beneath the mustache of the gruff man before me. Thrown.. Impact.. Sorry... Identity....
I woke up in a hospital bed. The window revealed the sobering pre-glow of dawn. I felt for my head but a wrapped bandage is all I found. The previous day came flooding back wih speed harsher than the inevitable decay of the human body. I broke down into a sob nearest to death throws. My mind made fuzzy, everything but her. She was gone and I could do nothing. She was gone.
Ringing for a nurse, my frantic pleas only resulted in forced sedation. Through tears, my eyes unwillingly closed to the team of nurses restraining me... No, there was something else.. Some glint in the air, just past the head nurse's permed curls... What.. was......
I awoke to the gesture of two detectives. They told me they had some standard questions to ask of me. Compliant, i answered them as best I could. For their final question, I was asked what I would do now.
"I wish I could do it all again," I answered without hesitation.
I closed my eyes and rested my head as they quietly departed the room. My mind went blank........ Buzzing, wind reppling my entire body, the warmth of the sun. Eyes open, an aerial view of.. Giant flowers? Decending upon one, the familiar scent of lillies. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "I wish that I could clean this basement faster."
It happened almost instantly. Objects arranging themselves into neat piles and on the shelves, water just moving around the floor to clear the dust off and hell, even the dead rat's corpse just stood up and walked out leaving me dumbfounded.
"What the hell? I sure wish I knew what was going on..."
And again, another strange thing happened. A little man jumped out right in front of my face and told me he was a genie and I have three wishes. That was the best thing I've ever heard in my life and...
"Awwww man, I wish I had known this earlier!"
Oh crap! | \- "Honey, after cleaning the basement, can you take out the trash? I'm making dinner!"
\- "Sure, mom!" *Whispering* "Fuck me, can this pile of shit be a bit bigger and heavier? Fucking cleaning day... Hope she chokes with those nuggets!"
*Whishes granted!*
Edit: commenting syntax | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Your not going anywhere till you clean that basement Kevin!"
I was livid, the basement was a wreck and now I had to clean it. It had to be a good 10 years worth of junk and dust down there and god knows what kind of insects.
My worthless father had been dumping stuff down there for years, spending money our family didn't have on junk we didn't need, then allowing it live out its last lonely years gathering dust in our basement.
"It better be spotless down there or I swear to god you will clean the attic as well"
"That's totally unfair mum it's a wreck down here and I .. I"
"I don't give a crap Kevin, I said spotless."
It was pointless arguing, I knew well there was no way around mum when she was in this mood, so I go to work.
After tireless lifting rotting cardboard box after cardboard box, I had decided that if I was going to be forced to clean this basement I was at least going to make something out of it, I had began sifting through the boxes of junk to seize anything valuable enough to make a few bucks on and dumping all the stuff that was quite literally useless junk.
After what seemed like an eternity I had cleared a somewhat modest amount of room in the basement, and I had a particularly hefty loot pile that I was certain would at least buy me a new bike according to my extensive knowledge of the history channel's 'Auction Hunters'. It mostly consisted of old ornaments and some in tact toys and sports equipment.
I hurriedly finished what I could for the day, shifting things into corners so to my mothers eye it looked like I'd done a lot more, I grabbed my loot and placed it in one of the in tact boxes that was leftover and brought it up to my room.
I had decided that if I was going to sell this lot, i'd probably get a lot more if I cleaned them up a bit first, so I grabbed some kitchen roll and furniture polish and began buffing up my ill gotten gains.
It didn't take long to bring them all up to a reasonable finish, I packed them into the box and sneaked out the house and headed for the pawn shop which was about an hours walk away.
"Urgh I wish I didn't have to walk with this stupid box" I muttered under my breath as I was walking, the box still smelled of damp and was pretty heavy and difficult to carry. Suddenly a car stopped next to me, it was my mother. "Shit" I muttered.
"Get in the car" She exhaled in a breathe of pure fury.
I climbed in and placed the box on the seat in the back next to me, there was absolutely no way I was getting in the front to get a face full of the spit my mother was about to exhaust at me.
"Where the F*** do you think your going?" She fumed.
"The pawn shop" I whimpered.
"WHAT DID I SAY, you were not to leave the house till the basement was clean, now you CAN clean the attic aswell."
"I wish you weren't a bitch all the time" I said in the briefest of whispers so slight that it was incomprehensible to my mother.
"What was that?" She asked, in a somewhat reasonable tone.
"Oh, nothing I just wanted to make a few bucks on these things so I could buy myself a bike, I thought i'd make use out of the junk down there if I could you know" I proclaimed, in my youngest of voices.
"Fine, I'll take you to the pawn shop" She replied.
This was unprecedented, it usually took mum 3 to 4 days to cool down, and in that time every conversation would be met with bitter anger, now she was actually doing me a favour and giving me a lift, this was weird.
We arrived at the pawn shop and I headed in, while my mother waited in the car, I waddled up to the desk with my box and dropped it down on the counter.
"Hey man I was wondering how much I could get for this stuff?" I asked
"Sure, bro" he responded.
I started to hand him item after item each getting a puny valuation but with all the items so far I knew I had enough for the bike. I reached into the box to grab the last item the one you saved for last because it looked 'old' the oil lamp, made of brass or some other shiny metal.
"What that you got there?" The shopkeeper asked
"Think its an oil lamp." I replied
"Maybe it's a genie lamp" He snorted.
"Haha, I wish." I chuckled in response.
"$60 for it"
"done" I exclaimed.
I snatched up my money and hopped into my mum's car.
"What a mug" I chuckled to myself "I've seen thousands of them things sell on auction hunters for like $5"
My mother started the car and we headed for home so I could continue cleaning the basement and now the attic, but what do I care, I got a brand new bike out of it. | \- "Honey, after cleaning the basement, can you take out the trash? I'm making dinner!"
\- "Sure, mom!" *Whispering* "Fuck me, can this pile of shit be a bit bigger and heavier? Fucking cleaning day... Hope she chokes with those nuggets!"
*Whishes granted!*
Edit: commenting syntax | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | I have terrible taste in music - I mean terrible.
Well, to be fair, I don't actually *like* most of the songs I find myself obsessively singing, they just get stuck in my head and I find myself unconsciously singing them for weeks on end. Half the time I'm not even aware I'm doing it unless someone says something to me. I'm pretty lucky in that my wife actually finds this to be a rather endearing quality in me, especially as I quietly sang *Baby Got Back* through out the first month of our courtship, and again in the weeks up to our marriage. We spent out honeymoon in the south a France. We wandered through vineyards, I drank wine, she ate cheese, and I quietly sang *Move Bitch, Get Out the Way...*
"*Da da da da da daa daa* Good lord this basement is filthy."
We'd been home exactly one week. We had agreed that we could wait one week before tackling the mess that was our home. After a wedding and a month in France, the house was beginning to look like an episode of hoarders. We had decided to start in the basement and work up.
My wife glanced up from a pile of rubbish that was beginning to resemble the Tower of Babel and said,
"You're the one who wanted to clean this mess up. I was perfectly content spending another day in bed." She winked at me, turned around, and bent at the waist in a way that should probably be illegal.
"*Da da da... I wish I wa...* You are dangerous woman. Hey, whats this?" I picked up a tiny bronze lamp and held it up to the light. Waist deep in what appeared to be empty cardboard boxes, my wife glance up,
"Oh, that's probably just something from my old Barbie sets. Just throw it out."
"*Do de... scheme a way... da da* Yes ma'am." The little trinket went in the garbage and I turned to tackle the boxes behind me.
As I turn, I banged my head soundly on the ceiling joist. My wife giggled. Rubbing my head and swearing, I pulled down the next box on the shelf.
"*Dum da... wish i was a b...* looks like all that French wine made me grow an inch."
"Suuuuuure dear, keep telling yourself that."
"He look!" The box contained old tennis balls; I began juggling.
"Baller," my wife said with a smirk. She sat down on a box and watched. "How long do you think you can keep that up... if I do this?" She slowly unhooked the top button of her blouse. I managed to keep it the balls airborne until her shirt came all the way off. After that, I had no hope whatsoever.
We lay the aftermath, my wife softly stroking my chest.
"You know, we haven't used a condom in the last month..." She had a thoughtful look on her face.
"*Da da... who looked good...* Oh well? And kid we make will be awesome." I smile down at her.
"SHE will look good too," she smiled back. My wife really wanted our first to be a girl.
We decide to abandon the basement for later and work on the kitchen instead. We got dressed, and headed back upstairs.
"*Da da da de da da* OWW! " This time, I nailed my head on the frame of the basement door. My wife pulled me down and kissed my forehead.
"Maybe you DID get a little bit taller... What ARE you singing??"
"Oh, that stupid song by Skee-Lo," my wife looked blank. "Oh you know:
I wish I was little bit taller
I wish I was a baller
I wish I had a girl who looked good"
| \- "Honey, after cleaning the basement, can you take out the trash? I'm making dinner!"
\- "Sure, mom!" *Whispering* "Fuck me, can this pile of shit be a bit bigger and heavier? Fucking cleaning day... Hope she chokes with those nuggets!"
*Whishes granted!*
Edit: commenting syntax | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | Exhausted from a double-shift at your local Greasy Spoon & Bar, I flick on the TV. My son, 5, is up and bawling for attention despite the late hour, and his mother is too busy running lines of coke off the tits of her friends at the club to be bothered to be home. *I wish she'd never met those freaks,* I think to myself.
I grab some applesauce from the fridge, something to appease both my son and I, and a shot glass, just for me... unless the little tyke really won't fall asleep. His smile when he sees the bowl is almost worth the tantrum he'll throw when he realizes it's not all for him.
He sits on my lap in our beat-up laz-y-boy recliner, while we munch on Mott's Cinnamon and the talking heads regale us with tales of local misfortune. *Today at six-o-clock, armed robbers were witnessed raiding the local Wall-E-World shopping mart, stealing all manner of electronics and tools. Several people were injured in a shoot-out between the raiders and the local police response force, with four in critical condition. Robberies have been on the rise since the collapse of the global economy in 2019. Wall-E-World spokesman, Albrecht Midas, has this to say...*
I looked towards my son, whose wide smile as I bounced him on my knee offset the applesauce dripping down his chin. "I wish you didn't have to grow up in a world where that sort of thing happens." His smile continued, vacant any reaction to my expression of frustration and goodwill.
I tucked him in again, looking at the clock. 3 am. She won't be coming home again tonight. *Maybe we'd be better off...*
*****
I'm driving down the highway. Everyone is remarkably respectful of the rules of the road, it's like a dream. Everyone's signalling, everyone's merging. I'm driving through a particularly shady neighborhood and see heavily tattooed, muscular guys wearing chains and gold jewelry helping an old lady with her groceries. It's odd; must be one of those serendipitous days where everything just goes right.
I'm headed to a bank. Over the last few weeks I'd been promoted to head bartender, and then to assistant manager. The pay increases meant I could afford a nice home for my son and I, and... well, maybe Andrea too. She'd been on the mend for the last few weeks, too. Usually that just meant she'd drank way too much and felt like shit, then realized she was out of money for coke, and her dealers wouldn't sleep with her because they had a new piece that was more interesting. But she'd really been helping out, doing the dishes and helping get Billy ready for school. Maybe this time was different.
At the bank, there was an orderly queue. Every five minutes like clockwork another customer would be asked to proceed to the window. Strangely, some of them were returning to the line. *That's odd...*
Eventually I make it to the front, where a well-dressed man asks how he can help. I explain that I'm looking for a loan, while he smiles and nods politely, then points at another line. "Our loan specialist, Joan, will be happy to help you. Please enter that queue--"
"Look, I only have about a half an hour before I need to get to work. Is there any way you could help me?"
"I'm sorry sir. Our loan specialist is the one you'll need to speak to about originating a loan, I'm not able to help you. It shouldn't be long."
I wait in the queue, grumbling in my mind. *I wish this was all easy. Money, family, life. Too much talking and paperwork to make things happen.* I reach the front of the line, where Joan, the loan specialist, takes my information and begins the process to approve me for my home loan. After five minutes, she asks me to step aside for the next customer.
"But we're not done!"
"Yes sir, but bank policy states that we can only spend a maximum of five minutes per customer."
"I can't wait for the line again, I have to go to work!"
"We are available at the posted hours to assist you, should you decide to return!" She smiled, as though this was helpful to me.
"Can't you make an exception this time?"
"I'm sorry, sir. That would be breaking the rules. If we did that for you, then everyone else would think they could break the rules too. I'm sure you don't want to live in a world where that kind of thing happens. It would be madness!"
Ignoring the odd choice of phrase, I returned to my car, driving to work. I reached the parking lot, where the assistant manager's space was blocked by a hearse. *Oh, no...* I thought, as I prepared to find another spot to part. But, just as I approached, the vehicle moved.
Jenny, our bus-girl and events-coordinator met me at the door. "Frank, did you hear?"
"I saw a hearse. What's happened?"
"The owner's gone, slipped on a grease-spot and hit his head on the counter. Didn't end well for him, ambulance declared him DOA."
"That's a shame. Uh, are we closed then?"
"You tell me!"
"Huh?"
"Didn't you know? He left you the bar!"
*****
I'd sold the bar a few years later, but not before I was able to franchise it across the tri-state area. I'd always thought it'd be fun to drive fast cars for a living, and my financial success meant that I got to test drive a few. A talent scout had seen me at the track and offered me a sponsorship if I'd enter as a rookie driver for his company. I've been topping rookie charts for about two years now, and don't look to be slowing down. It just feels easy, like people literally move out of the way when they see me coming.
My son is in private school, really doing well with grades and the ladies. Andrea finally cleaned up, got a part time job designing Hallmark cards and spends most of her time helping raise our son. Our relationship is improving... she comes to all my races and enjoys being the girl beside the rookie of the year.
All in all, life is good.
*****
"This is Frank," a blue-skinned imp described laconically to the audience. "Observe: in his world, nobody breaks the rules. His wife has no friends through which to express her need to feel carefree, and will shoot herself within the next two years due to that absence of independence and the release offered by pursuing her vices. Queue times are exhaustive due to the inability for employees to break company policy and spend the needed amount of time with customers. Some companies have addressed this by stating that employees are to spend as much time as needed to help every customer. Trolls are thus able to exacerbate the problem by continually stating their problem is not solved... resulting in significant overtime hours billed by employees and occasionally bankrupting companies trying to do the right thing.
Frank himself will never realize this, because everything comes easily to him. People move out of his way when he drives, money falls into his lap when it is needed, everyone he meets is inclined to love him. He's created a narcissistic bubble in which he is king. We've found that nine times out of ten, humans will repeatedly do the same. Let's move to the next exhibit.
This is John..."
The young genies-in-training followed along curiously, taking notes and observing the differences between each world, and the folly of humans and other species, as the unintentional consequences of their actions had significant impact on the world around them. One remarked to the other, "The Apocalypse Prevention Center and Wish Oversight Committee are certainly thorough. Capturing the humans and simulating their wishes is *way* safer than changing the world."
"But how does it work? I thought we *had* to grant their wishes."
"Look at Frank! Nobody breaks the rules, everything is easy, and his wife doesn't know who those friends were. All his wishes *are* fulfilled. We just didn't have to make the rest of the world suffer for it."
As they moved exhibit to exhibit, occasionally little blue genies would catapult down tubes from the outside world, to the Apocalypse Prevention Center's core nexus, with yet another human in tow, inevitably towards the door with the sign above it, "Reality is what *you* make of it." | \- "Honey, after cleaning the basement, can you take out the trash? I'm making dinner!"
\- "Sure, mom!" *Whispering* "Fuck me, can this pile of shit be a bit bigger and heavier? Fucking cleaning day... Hope she chokes with those nuggets!"
*Whishes granted!*
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[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "I wish that I could clean this basement faster."
It happened almost instantly. Objects arranging themselves into neat piles and on the shelves, water just moving around the floor to clear the dust off and hell, even the dead rat's corpse just stood up and walked out leaving me dumbfounded.
"What the hell? I sure wish I knew what was going on..."
And again, another strange thing happened. A little man jumped out right in front of my face and told me he was a genie and I have three wishes. That was the best thing I've ever heard in my life and...
"Awwww man, I wish I had known this earlier!"
Oh crap! | My foot was throbbing. I can't believe how heavy that small box was, deceptively heavy for it's size. Well there's no time to think about it now, I have to get going to pick up my friends and get down to the campsite. It's getting late and I don't have time for Sherlock shit right now now.
I pick up the camping light, throw everything back in to the box, climb down from the attic and replace the perfectly square piece of wood that covers the attic hole in our roof. My Mam reminds me to replace the cover after she has heard it slide back in to place. Why she does this, I will never know, but she's been telling me exactly what to do, seconds after I've done it, for as long as I can remember. It is the most annoying possible thing I can imagine to happen and my kneejerk is to curse under my breath at her.
"I wish she would shut the fuck up" I said.
I grab all my camping equipment, load it in to my car and go to say goodbye to my Mam. I see her and my sister through the front window. They're in the kitchen, both making extreme gestures to eachother. "Another fight.." I thought "Just what I need before I go." So instead of going in to see what the matter is, I just get in my car and drive to pick up my friends. I've got enough shit on my plate and I need another altercation with my mam, like I need a mesh speedo.
It doesn't take long to pick up my friends and get on the road. Within half and hour of leaving my house we're already hitting the country and getting close enough to the campsite. It's starts getting pretty cloudy as we get closer to the mountains and suddenly it occurs to us that no one checked the weather for the trip. It starts to spit rain on the windscreen and the wind is picking up. Our moods begin to drop with the weather.
"Aw man, I can't believe this" laments Saoirse "It wouldn't be so bad if we had some good 'aul acid to make the night go by".
"Oh sweet jesus yes..that's what we need. Ugh, I wish we had some acid!".
"I can't believe we managed to find ten tabs of acid in your sock JJ. How long were they even in there?" I asked.
"I have no idea, I don't even remember buying stamps with these nifty Genies on them.." JJ replied.
"Well fuck it, it was a bit of luck" I say "Besides, worst case scenario, the acid is *too* strong and we trip hard" I add.
Four hours later, or at least four hours by acid standards, we find ourselves around the fire in the circle of the tents and the acid has been in full flow for quite some time. The trees are remants of an ancient world, the moon an entity unto itself and we are discussing the intricacies of the universe. The sheer vast size threatens to overwhelm the very idea of our beings.
"I wish the Universe was the size of a glass ball that I held in my hand" I muse aloud. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "Your not going anywhere till you clean that basement Kevin!"
I was livid, the basement was a wreck and now I had to clean it. It had to be a good 10 years worth of junk and dust down there and god knows what kind of insects.
My worthless father had been dumping stuff down there for years, spending money our family didn't have on junk we didn't need, then allowing it live out its last lonely years gathering dust in our basement.
"It better be spotless down there or I swear to god you will clean the attic as well"
"That's totally unfair mum it's a wreck down here and I .. I"
"I don't give a crap Kevin, I said spotless."
It was pointless arguing, I knew well there was no way around mum when she was in this mood, so I go to work.
After tireless lifting rotting cardboard box after cardboard box, I had decided that if I was going to be forced to clean this basement I was at least going to make something out of it, I had began sifting through the boxes of junk to seize anything valuable enough to make a few bucks on and dumping all the stuff that was quite literally useless junk.
After what seemed like an eternity I had cleared a somewhat modest amount of room in the basement, and I had a particularly hefty loot pile that I was certain would at least buy me a new bike according to my extensive knowledge of the history channel's 'Auction Hunters'. It mostly consisted of old ornaments and some in tact toys and sports equipment.
I hurriedly finished what I could for the day, shifting things into corners so to my mothers eye it looked like I'd done a lot more, I grabbed my loot and placed it in one of the in tact boxes that was leftover and brought it up to my room.
I had decided that if I was going to sell this lot, i'd probably get a lot more if I cleaned them up a bit first, so I grabbed some kitchen roll and furniture polish and began buffing up my ill gotten gains.
It didn't take long to bring them all up to a reasonable finish, I packed them into the box and sneaked out the house and headed for the pawn shop which was about an hours walk away.
"Urgh I wish I didn't have to walk with this stupid box" I muttered under my breath as I was walking, the box still smelled of damp and was pretty heavy and difficult to carry. Suddenly a car stopped next to me, it was my mother. "Shit" I muttered.
"Get in the car" She exhaled in a breathe of pure fury.
I climbed in and placed the box on the seat in the back next to me, there was absolutely no way I was getting in the front to get a face full of the spit my mother was about to exhaust at me.
"Where the F*** do you think your going?" She fumed.
"The pawn shop" I whimpered.
"WHAT DID I SAY, you were not to leave the house till the basement was clean, now you CAN clean the attic aswell."
"I wish you weren't a bitch all the time" I said in the briefest of whispers so slight that it was incomprehensible to my mother.
"What was that?" She asked, in a somewhat reasonable tone.
"Oh, nothing I just wanted to make a few bucks on these things so I could buy myself a bike, I thought i'd make use out of the junk down there if I could you know" I proclaimed, in my youngest of voices.
"Fine, I'll take you to the pawn shop" She replied.
This was unprecedented, it usually took mum 3 to 4 days to cool down, and in that time every conversation would be met with bitter anger, now she was actually doing me a favour and giving me a lift, this was weird.
We arrived at the pawn shop and I headed in, while my mother waited in the car, I waddled up to the desk with my box and dropped it down on the counter.
"Hey man I was wondering how much I could get for this stuff?" I asked
"Sure, bro" he responded.
I started to hand him item after item each getting a puny valuation but with all the items so far I knew I had enough for the bike. I reached into the box to grab the last item the one you saved for last because it looked 'old' the oil lamp, made of brass or some other shiny metal.
"What that you got there?" The shopkeeper asked
"Think its an oil lamp." I replied
"Maybe it's a genie lamp" He snorted.
"Haha, I wish." I chuckled in response.
"$60 for it"
"done" I exclaimed.
I snatched up my money and hopped into my mum's car.
"What a mug" I chuckled to myself "I've seen thousands of them things sell on auction hunters for like $5"
My mother started the car and we headed for home so I could continue cleaning the basement and now the attic, but what do I care, I got a brand new bike out of it. | My foot was throbbing. I can't believe how heavy that small box was, deceptively heavy for it's size. Well there's no time to think about it now, I have to get going to pick up my friends and get down to the campsite. It's getting late and I don't have time for Sherlock shit right now now.
I pick up the camping light, throw everything back in to the box, climb down from the attic and replace the perfectly square piece of wood that covers the attic hole in our roof. My Mam reminds me to replace the cover after she has heard it slide back in to place. Why she does this, I will never know, but she's been telling me exactly what to do, seconds after I've done it, for as long as I can remember. It is the most annoying possible thing I can imagine to happen and my kneejerk is to curse under my breath at her.
"I wish she would shut the fuck up" I said.
I grab all my camping equipment, load it in to my car and go to say goodbye to my Mam. I see her and my sister through the front window. They're in the kitchen, both making extreme gestures to eachother. "Another fight.." I thought "Just what I need before I go." So instead of going in to see what the matter is, I just get in my car and drive to pick up my friends. I've got enough shit on my plate and I need another altercation with my mam, like I need a mesh speedo.
It doesn't take long to pick up my friends and get on the road. Within half and hour of leaving my house we're already hitting the country and getting close enough to the campsite. It's starts getting pretty cloudy as we get closer to the mountains and suddenly it occurs to us that no one checked the weather for the trip. It starts to spit rain on the windscreen and the wind is picking up. Our moods begin to drop with the weather.
"Aw man, I can't believe this" laments Saoirse "It wouldn't be so bad if we had some good 'aul acid to make the night go by".
"Oh sweet jesus yes..that's what we need. Ugh, I wish we had some acid!".
"I can't believe we managed to find ten tabs of acid in your sock JJ. How long were they even in there?" I asked.
"I have no idea, I don't even remember buying stamps with these nifty Genies on them.." JJ replied.
"Well fuck it, it was a bit of luck" I say "Besides, worst case scenario, the acid is *too* strong and we trip hard" I add.
Four hours later, or at least four hours by acid standards, we find ourselves around the fire in the circle of the tents and the acid has been in full flow for quite some time. The trees are remants of an ancient world, the moon an entity unto itself and we are discussing the intricacies of the universe. The sheer vast size threatens to overwhelm the very idea of our beings.
"I wish the Universe was the size of a glass ball that I held in my hand" I muse aloud. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | I have terrible taste in music - I mean terrible.
Well, to be fair, I don't actually *like* most of the songs I find myself obsessively singing, they just get stuck in my head and I find myself unconsciously singing them for weeks on end. Half the time I'm not even aware I'm doing it unless someone says something to me. I'm pretty lucky in that my wife actually finds this to be a rather endearing quality in me, especially as I quietly sang *Baby Got Back* through out the first month of our courtship, and again in the weeks up to our marriage. We spent out honeymoon in the south a France. We wandered through vineyards, I drank wine, she ate cheese, and I quietly sang *Move Bitch, Get Out the Way...*
"*Da da da da da daa daa* Good lord this basement is filthy."
We'd been home exactly one week. We had agreed that we could wait one week before tackling the mess that was our home. After a wedding and a month in France, the house was beginning to look like an episode of hoarders. We had decided to start in the basement and work up.
My wife glanced up from a pile of rubbish that was beginning to resemble the Tower of Babel and said,
"You're the one who wanted to clean this mess up. I was perfectly content spending another day in bed." She winked at me, turned around, and bent at the waist in a way that should probably be illegal.
"*Da da da... I wish I wa...* You are dangerous woman. Hey, whats this?" I picked up a tiny bronze lamp and held it up to the light. Waist deep in what appeared to be empty cardboard boxes, my wife glance up,
"Oh, that's probably just something from my old Barbie sets. Just throw it out."
"*Do de... scheme a way... da da* Yes ma'am." The little trinket went in the garbage and I turned to tackle the boxes behind me.
As I turn, I banged my head soundly on the ceiling joist. My wife giggled. Rubbing my head and swearing, I pulled down the next box on the shelf.
"*Dum da... wish i was a b...* looks like all that French wine made me grow an inch."
"Suuuuuure dear, keep telling yourself that."
"He look!" The box contained old tennis balls; I began juggling.
"Baller," my wife said with a smirk. She sat down on a box and watched. "How long do you think you can keep that up... if I do this?" She slowly unhooked the top button of her blouse. I managed to keep it the balls airborne until her shirt came all the way off. After that, I had no hope whatsoever.
We lay the aftermath, my wife softly stroking my chest.
"You know, we haven't used a condom in the last month..." She had a thoughtful look on her face.
"*Da da... who looked good...* Oh well? And kid we make will be awesome." I smile down at her.
"SHE will look good too," she smiled back. My wife really wanted our first to be a girl.
We decide to abandon the basement for later and work on the kitchen instead. We got dressed, and headed back upstairs.
"*Da da da de da da* OWW! " This time, I nailed my head on the frame of the basement door. My wife pulled me down and kissed my forehead.
"Maybe you DID get a little bit taller... What ARE you singing??"
"Oh, that stupid song by Skee-Lo," my wife looked blank. "Oh you know:
I wish I was little bit taller
I wish I was a baller
I wish I had a girl who looked good"
| My foot was throbbing. I can't believe how heavy that small box was, deceptively heavy for it's size. Well there's no time to think about it now, I have to get going to pick up my friends and get down to the campsite. It's getting late and I don't have time for Sherlock shit right now now.
I pick up the camping light, throw everything back in to the box, climb down from the attic and replace the perfectly square piece of wood that covers the attic hole in our roof. My Mam reminds me to replace the cover after she has heard it slide back in to place. Why she does this, I will never know, but she's been telling me exactly what to do, seconds after I've done it, for as long as I can remember. It is the most annoying possible thing I can imagine to happen and my kneejerk is to curse under my breath at her.
"I wish she would shut the fuck up" I said.
I grab all my camping equipment, load it in to my car and go to say goodbye to my Mam. I see her and my sister through the front window. They're in the kitchen, both making extreme gestures to eachother. "Another fight.." I thought "Just what I need before I go." So instead of going in to see what the matter is, I just get in my car and drive to pick up my friends. I've got enough shit on my plate and I need another altercation with my mam, like I need a mesh speedo.
It doesn't take long to pick up my friends and get on the road. Within half and hour of leaving my house we're already hitting the country and getting close enough to the campsite. It's starts getting pretty cloudy as we get closer to the mountains and suddenly it occurs to us that no one checked the weather for the trip. It starts to spit rain on the windscreen and the wind is picking up. Our moods begin to drop with the weather.
"Aw man, I can't believe this" laments Saoirse "It wouldn't be so bad if we had some good 'aul acid to make the night go by".
"Oh sweet jesus yes..that's what we need. Ugh, I wish we had some acid!".
"I can't believe we managed to find ten tabs of acid in your sock JJ. How long were they even in there?" I asked.
"I have no idea, I don't even remember buying stamps with these nifty Genies on them.." JJ replied.
"Well fuck it, it was a bit of luck" I say "Besides, worst case scenario, the acid is *too* strong and we trip hard" I add.
Four hours later, or at least four hours by acid standards, we find ourselves around the fire in the circle of the tents and the acid has been in full flow for quite some time. The trees are remants of an ancient world, the moon an entity unto itself and we are discussing the intricacies of the universe. The sheer vast size threatens to overwhelm the very idea of our beings.
"I wish the Universe was the size of a glass ball that I held in my hand" I muse aloud. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | Exhausted from a double-shift at your local Greasy Spoon & Bar, I flick on the TV. My son, 5, is up and bawling for attention despite the late hour, and his mother is too busy running lines of coke off the tits of her friends at the club to be bothered to be home. *I wish she'd never met those freaks,* I think to myself.
I grab some applesauce from the fridge, something to appease both my son and I, and a shot glass, just for me... unless the little tyke really won't fall asleep. His smile when he sees the bowl is almost worth the tantrum he'll throw when he realizes it's not all for him.
He sits on my lap in our beat-up laz-y-boy recliner, while we munch on Mott's Cinnamon and the talking heads regale us with tales of local misfortune. *Today at six-o-clock, armed robbers were witnessed raiding the local Wall-E-World shopping mart, stealing all manner of electronics and tools. Several people were injured in a shoot-out between the raiders and the local police response force, with four in critical condition. Robberies have been on the rise since the collapse of the global economy in 2019. Wall-E-World spokesman, Albrecht Midas, has this to say...*
I looked towards my son, whose wide smile as I bounced him on my knee offset the applesauce dripping down his chin. "I wish you didn't have to grow up in a world where that sort of thing happens." His smile continued, vacant any reaction to my expression of frustration and goodwill.
I tucked him in again, looking at the clock. 3 am. She won't be coming home again tonight. *Maybe we'd be better off...*
*****
I'm driving down the highway. Everyone is remarkably respectful of the rules of the road, it's like a dream. Everyone's signalling, everyone's merging. I'm driving through a particularly shady neighborhood and see heavily tattooed, muscular guys wearing chains and gold jewelry helping an old lady with her groceries. It's odd; must be one of those serendipitous days where everything just goes right.
I'm headed to a bank. Over the last few weeks I'd been promoted to head bartender, and then to assistant manager. The pay increases meant I could afford a nice home for my son and I, and... well, maybe Andrea too. She'd been on the mend for the last few weeks, too. Usually that just meant she'd drank way too much and felt like shit, then realized she was out of money for coke, and her dealers wouldn't sleep with her because they had a new piece that was more interesting. But she'd really been helping out, doing the dishes and helping get Billy ready for school. Maybe this time was different.
At the bank, there was an orderly queue. Every five minutes like clockwork another customer would be asked to proceed to the window. Strangely, some of them were returning to the line. *That's odd...*
Eventually I make it to the front, where a well-dressed man asks how he can help. I explain that I'm looking for a loan, while he smiles and nods politely, then points at another line. "Our loan specialist, Joan, will be happy to help you. Please enter that queue--"
"Look, I only have about a half an hour before I need to get to work. Is there any way you could help me?"
"I'm sorry sir. Our loan specialist is the one you'll need to speak to about originating a loan, I'm not able to help you. It shouldn't be long."
I wait in the queue, grumbling in my mind. *I wish this was all easy. Money, family, life. Too much talking and paperwork to make things happen.* I reach the front of the line, where Joan, the loan specialist, takes my information and begins the process to approve me for my home loan. After five minutes, she asks me to step aside for the next customer.
"But we're not done!"
"Yes sir, but bank policy states that we can only spend a maximum of five minutes per customer."
"I can't wait for the line again, I have to go to work!"
"We are available at the posted hours to assist you, should you decide to return!" She smiled, as though this was helpful to me.
"Can't you make an exception this time?"
"I'm sorry, sir. That would be breaking the rules. If we did that for you, then everyone else would think they could break the rules too. I'm sure you don't want to live in a world where that kind of thing happens. It would be madness!"
Ignoring the odd choice of phrase, I returned to my car, driving to work. I reached the parking lot, where the assistant manager's space was blocked by a hearse. *Oh, no...* I thought, as I prepared to find another spot to part. But, just as I approached, the vehicle moved.
Jenny, our bus-girl and events-coordinator met me at the door. "Frank, did you hear?"
"I saw a hearse. What's happened?"
"The owner's gone, slipped on a grease-spot and hit his head on the counter. Didn't end well for him, ambulance declared him DOA."
"That's a shame. Uh, are we closed then?"
"You tell me!"
"Huh?"
"Didn't you know? He left you the bar!"
*****
I'd sold the bar a few years later, but not before I was able to franchise it across the tri-state area. I'd always thought it'd be fun to drive fast cars for a living, and my financial success meant that I got to test drive a few. A talent scout had seen me at the track and offered me a sponsorship if I'd enter as a rookie driver for his company. I've been topping rookie charts for about two years now, and don't look to be slowing down. It just feels easy, like people literally move out of the way when they see me coming.
My son is in private school, really doing well with grades and the ladies. Andrea finally cleaned up, got a part time job designing Hallmark cards and spends most of her time helping raise our son. Our relationship is improving... she comes to all my races and enjoys being the girl beside the rookie of the year.
All in all, life is good.
*****
"This is Frank," a blue-skinned imp described laconically to the audience. "Observe: in his world, nobody breaks the rules. His wife has no friends through which to express her need to feel carefree, and will shoot herself within the next two years due to that absence of independence and the release offered by pursuing her vices. Queue times are exhaustive due to the inability for employees to break company policy and spend the needed amount of time with customers. Some companies have addressed this by stating that employees are to spend as much time as needed to help every customer. Trolls are thus able to exacerbate the problem by continually stating their problem is not solved... resulting in significant overtime hours billed by employees and occasionally bankrupting companies trying to do the right thing.
Frank himself will never realize this, because everything comes easily to him. People move out of his way when he drives, money falls into his lap when it is needed, everyone he meets is inclined to love him. He's created a narcissistic bubble in which he is king. We've found that nine times out of ten, humans will repeatedly do the same. Let's move to the next exhibit.
This is John..."
The young genies-in-training followed along curiously, taking notes and observing the differences between each world, and the folly of humans and other species, as the unintentional consequences of their actions had significant impact on the world around them. One remarked to the other, "The Apocalypse Prevention Center and Wish Oversight Committee are certainly thorough. Capturing the humans and simulating their wishes is *way* safer than changing the world."
"But how does it work? I thought we *had* to grant their wishes."
"Look at Frank! Nobody breaks the rules, everything is easy, and his wife doesn't know who those friends were. All his wishes *are* fulfilled. We just didn't have to make the rest of the world suffer for it."
As they moved exhibit to exhibit, occasionally little blue genies would catapult down tubes from the outside world, to the Apocalypse Prevention Center's core nexus, with yet another human in tow, inevitably towards the door with the sign above it, "Reality is what *you* make of it." | My foot was throbbing. I can't believe how heavy that small box was, deceptively heavy for it's size. Well there's no time to think about it now, I have to get going to pick up my friends and get down to the campsite. It's getting late and I don't have time for Sherlock shit right now now.
I pick up the camping light, throw everything back in to the box, climb down from the attic and replace the perfectly square piece of wood that covers the attic hole in our roof. My Mam reminds me to replace the cover after she has heard it slide back in to place. Why she does this, I will never know, but she's been telling me exactly what to do, seconds after I've done it, for as long as I can remember. It is the most annoying possible thing I can imagine to happen and my kneejerk is to curse under my breath at her.
"I wish she would shut the fuck up" I said.
I grab all my camping equipment, load it in to my car and go to say goodbye to my Mam. I see her and my sister through the front window. They're in the kitchen, both making extreme gestures to eachother. "Another fight.." I thought "Just what I need before I go." So instead of going in to see what the matter is, I just get in my car and drive to pick up my friends. I've got enough shit on my plate and I need another altercation with my mam, like I need a mesh speedo.
It doesn't take long to pick up my friends and get on the road. Within half and hour of leaving my house we're already hitting the country and getting close enough to the campsite. It's starts getting pretty cloudy as we get closer to the mountains and suddenly it occurs to us that no one checked the weather for the trip. It starts to spit rain on the windscreen and the wind is picking up. Our moods begin to drop with the weather.
"Aw man, I can't believe this" laments Saoirse "It wouldn't be so bad if we had some good 'aul acid to make the night go by".
"Oh sweet jesus yes..that's what we need. Ugh, I wish we had some acid!".
"I can't believe we managed to find ten tabs of acid in your sock JJ. How long were they even in there?" I asked.
"I have no idea, I don't even remember buying stamps with these nifty Genies on them.." JJ replied.
"Well fuck it, it was a bit of luck" I say "Besides, worst case scenario, the acid is *too* strong and we trip hard" I add.
Four hours later, or at least four hours by acid standards, we find ourselves around the fire in the circle of the tents and the acid has been in full flow for quite some time. The trees are remants of an ancient world, the moon an entity unto itself and we are discussing the intricacies of the universe. The sheer vast size threatens to overwhelm the very idea of our beings.
"I wish the Universe was the size of a glass ball that I held in my hand" I muse aloud. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | I have terrible taste in music - I mean terrible.
Well, to be fair, I don't actually *like* most of the songs I find myself obsessively singing, they just get stuck in my head and I find myself unconsciously singing them for weeks on end. Half the time I'm not even aware I'm doing it unless someone says something to me. I'm pretty lucky in that my wife actually finds this to be a rather endearing quality in me, especially as I quietly sang *Baby Got Back* through out the first month of our courtship, and again in the weeks up to our marriage. We spent out honeymoon in the south a France. We wandered through vineyards, I drank wine, she ate cheese, and I quietly sang *Move Bitch, Get Out the Way...*
"*Da da da da da daa daa* Good lord this basement is filthy."
We'd been home exactly one week. We had agreed that we could wait one week before tackling the mess that was our home. After a wedding and a month in France, the house was beginning to look like an episode of hoarders. We had decided to start in the basement and work up.
My wife glanced up from a pile of rubbish that was beginning to resemble the Tower of Babel and said,
"You're the one who wanted to clean this mess up. I was perfectly content spending another day in bed." She winked at me, turned around, and bent at the waist in a way that should probably be illegal.
"*Da da da... I wish I wa...* You are dangerous woman. Hey, whats this?" I picked up a tiny bronze lamp and held it up to the light. Waist deep in what appeared to be empty cardboard boxes, my wife glance up,
"Oh, that's probably just something from my old Barbie sets. Just throw it out."
"*Do de... scheme a way... da da* Yes ma'am." The little trinket went in the garbage and I turned to tackle the boxes behind me.
As I turn, I banged my head soundly on the ceiling joist. My wife giggled. Rubbing my head and swearing, I pulled down the next box on the shelf.
"*Dum da... wish i was a b...* looks like all that French wine made me grow an inch."
"Suuuuuure dear, keep telling yourself that."
"He look!" The box contained old tennis balls; I began juggling.
"Baller," my wife said with a smirk. She sat down on a box and watched. "How long do you think you can keep that up... if I do this?" She slowly unhooked the top button of her blouse. I managed to keep it the balls airborne until her shirt came all the way off. After that, I had no hope whatsoever.
We lay the aftermath, my wife softly stroking my chest.
"You know, we haven't used a condom in the last month..." She had a thoughtful look on her face.
"*Da da... who looked good...* Oh well? And kid we make will be awesome." I smile down at her.
"SHE will look good too," she smiled back. My wife really wanted our first to be a girl.
We decide to abandon the basement for later and work on the kitchen instead. We got dressed, and headed back upstairs.
"*Da da da de da da* OWW! " This time, I nailed my head on the frame of the basement door. My wife pulled me down and kissed my forehead.
"Maybe you DID get a little bit taller... What ARE you singing??"
"Oh, that stupid song by Skee-Lo," my wife looked blank. "Oh you know:
I wish I was little bit taller
I wish I was a baller
I wish I had a girl who looked good"
| > Fuck I wish this day was over
Arriving at the Pearly Gates wasn't one of my finest moments.
The overwhelming rush of *knowing all* was... something else, that's for sure, but with that came the realisation that everyone else was on the same level.
They knew what I did, even if I didn't at the time.
I could handle the accusing stares and the whisperings from the multitude of other arrivals, but approaching the front desk was pretty awkward.
That is, when I finally reached it. They weren't prepared for an influx like this, that much was pretty obvious.
"Azz808 I presume. Your... accomplishments have been observed"
"Ah, yeah. Well, the vacuum was on and that. I dunno. How was I supposed to know?"
"Indeed"
"So. What happens now?"
"What happens now? Well... not much **now**"
"But I mean, do I still get in?"
"Hmmm. Well..."
I had to haggle for a bit, but after a few decades I was able to convince him that it was just one of those things. Could have happened to the best of us.
I'm still known around town of course. Probably take an eternity or two for people to forget about my little moment back on our old home, but it's not too bad. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | Exhausted from a double-shift at your local Greasy Spoon & Bar, I flick on the TV. My son, 5, is up and bawling for attention despite the late hour, and his mother is too busy running lines of coke off the tits of her friends at the club to be bothered to be home. *I wish she'd never met those freaks,* I think to myself.
I grab some applesauce from the fridge, something to appease both my son and I, and a shot glass, just for me... unless the little tyke really won't fall asleep. His smile when he sees the bowl is almost worth the tantrum he'll throw when he realizes it's not all for him.
He sits on my lap in our beat-up laz-y-boy recliner, while we munch on Mott's Cinnamon and the talking heads regale us with tales of local misfortune. *Today at six-o-clock, armed robbers were witnessed raiding the local Wall-E-World shopping mart, stealing all manner of electronics and tools. Several people were injured in a shoot-out between the raiders and the local police response force, with four in critical condition. Robberies have been on the rise since the collapse of the global economy in 2019. Wall-E-World spokesman, Albrecht Midas, has this to say...*
I looked towards my son, whose wide smile as I bounced him on my knee offset the applesauce dripping down his chin. "I wish you didn't have to grow up in a world where that sort of thing happens." His smile continued, vacant any reaction to my expression of frustration and goodwill.
I tucked him in again, looking at the clock. 3 am. She won't be coming home again tonight. *Maybe we'd be better off...*
*****
I'm driving down the highway. Everyone is remarkably respectful of the rules of the road, it's like a dream. Everyone's signalling, everyone's merging. I'm driving through a particularly shady neighborhood and see heavily tattooed, muscular guys wearing chains and gold jewelry helping an old lady with her groceries. It's odd; must be one of those serendipitous days where everything just goes right.
I'm headed to a bank. Over the last few weeks I'd been promoted to head bartender, and then to assistant manager. The pay increases meant I could afford a nice home for my son and I, and... well, maybe Andrea too. She'd been on the mend for the last few weeks, too. Usually that just meant she'd drank way too much and felt like shit, then realized she was out of money for coke, and her dealers wouldn't sleep with her because they had a new piece that was more interesting. But she'd really been helping out, doing the dishes and helping get Billy ready for school. Maybe this time was different.
At the bank, there was an orderly queue. Every five minutes like clockwork another customer would be asked to proceed to the window. Strangely, some of them were returning to the line. *That's odd...*
Eventually I make it to the front, where a well-dressed man asks how he can help. I explain that I'm looking for a loan, while he smiles and nods politely, then points at another line. "Our loan specialist, Joan, will be happy to help you. Please enter that queue--"
"Look, I only have about a half an hour before I need to get to work. Is there any way you could help me?"
"I'm sorry sir. Our loan specialist is the one you'll need to speak to about originating a loan, I'm not able to help you. It shouldn't be long."
I wait in the queue, grumbling in my mind. *I wish this was all easy. Money, family, life. Too much talking and paperwork to make things happen.* I reach the front of the line, where Joan, the loan specialist, takes my information and begins the process to approve me for my home loan. After five minutes, she asks me to step aside for the next customer.
"But we're not done!"
"Yes sir, but bank policy states that we can only spend a maximum of five minutes per customer."
"I can't wait for the line again, I have to go to work!"
"We are available at the posted hours to assist you, should you decide to return!" She smiled, as though this was helpful to me.
"Can't you make an exception this time?"
"I'm sorry, sir. That would be breaking the rules. If we did that for you, then everyone else would think they could break the rules too. I'm sure you don't want to live in a world where that kind of thing happens. It would be madness!"
Ignoring the odd choice of phrase, I returned to my car, driving to work. I reached the parking lot, where the assistant manager's space was blocked by a hearse. *Oh, no...* I thought, as I prepared to find another spot to part. But, just as I approached, the vehicle moved.
Jenny, our bus-girl and events-coordinator met me at the door. "Frank, did you hear?"
"I saw a hearse. What's happened?"
"The owner's gone, slipped on a grease-spot and hit his head on the counter. Didn't end well for him, ambulance declared him DOA."
"That's a shame. Uh, are we closed then?"
"You tell me!"
"Huh?"
"Didn't you know? He left you the bar!"
*****
I'd sold the bar a few years later, but not before I was able to franchise it across the tri-state area. I'd always thought it'd be fun to drive fast cars for a living, and my financial success meant that I got to test drive a few. A talent scout had seen me at the track and offered me a sponsorship if I'd enter as a rookie driver for his company. I've been topping rookie charts for about two years now, and don't look to be slowing down. It just feels easy, like people literally move out of the way when they see me coming.
My son is in private school, really doing well with grades and the ladies. Andrea finally cleaned up, got a part time job designing Hallmark cards and spends most of her time helping raise our son. Our relationship is improving... she comes to all my races and enjoys being the girl beside the rookie of the year.
All in all, life is good.
*****
"This is Frank," a blue-skinned imp described laconically to the audience. "Observe: in his world, nobody breaks the rules. His wife has no friends through which to express her need to feel carefree, and will shoot herself within the next two years due to that absence of independence and the release offered by pursuing her vices. Queue times are exhaustive due to the inability for employees to break company policy and spend the needed amount of time with customers. Some companies have addressed this by stating that employees are to spend as much time as needed to help every customer. Trolls are thus able to exacerbate the problem by continually stating their problem is not solved... resulting in significant overtime hours billed by employees and occasionally bankrupting companies trying to do the right thing.
Frank himself will never realize this, because everything comes easily to him. People move out of his way when he drives, money falls into his lap when it is needed, everyone he meets is inclined to love him. He's created a narcissistic bubble in which he is king. We've found that nine times out of ten, humans will repeatedly do the same. Let's move to the next exhibit.
This is John..."
The young genies-in-training followed along curiously, taking notes and observing the differences between each world, and the folly of humans and other species, as the unintentional consequences of their actions had significant impact on the world around them. One remarked to the other, "The Apocalypse Prevention Center and Wish Oversight Committee are certainly thorough. Capturing the humans and simulating their wishes is *way* safer than changing the world."
"But how does it work? I thought we *had* to grant their wishes."
"Look at Frank! Nobody breaks the rules, everything is easy, and his wife doesn't know who those friends were. All his wishes *are* fulfilled. We just didn't have to make the rest of the world suffer for it."
As they moved exhibit to exhibit, occasionally little blue genies would catapult down tubes from the outside world, to the Apocalypse Prevention Center's core nexus, with yet another human in tow, inevitably towards the door with the sign above it, "Reality is what *you* make of it." | > Fuck I wish this day was over
Arriving at the Pearly Gates wasn't one of my finest moments.
The overwhelming rush of *knowing all* was... something else, that's for sure, but with that came the realisation that everyone else was on the same level.
They knew what I did, even if I didn't at the time.
I could handle the accusing stares and the whisperings from the multitude of other arrivals, but approaching the front desk was pretty awkward.
That is, when I finally reached it. They weren't prepared for an influx like this, that much was pretty obvious.
"Azz808 I presume. Your... accomplishments have been observed"
"Ah, yeah. Well, the vacuum was on and that. I dunno. How was I supposed to know?"
"Indeed"
"So. What happens now?"
"What happens now? Well... not much **now**"
"But I mean, do I still get in?"
"Hmmm. Well..."
I had to haggle for a bit, but after a few decades I was able to convince him that it was just one of those things. Could have happened to the best of us.
I'm still known around town of course. Probably take an eternity or two for people to forget about my little moment back on our old home, but it's not too bad. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "I wish this day would end faster." There was nobody to hear my plea, but I talk to myself when I'm alone. "Who doesn't?"
As I noticed that my watch and the clock on the wall weren't in sync, I smelled smoke. "I wish I hadn't burnt my dinner." There I go talking to myself again. When I opened the oven smoke poured out, but strangely my meatloaf looked just fine.
"I wish I knew what made that happen."
Oh damn. | > Fuck I wish this day was over
Arriving at the Pearly Gates wasn't one of my finest moments.
The overwhelming rush of *knowing all* was... something else, that's for sure, but with that came the realisation that everyone else was on the same level.
They knew what I did, even if I didn't at the time.
I could handle the accusing stares and the whisperings from the multitude of other arrivals, but approaching the front desk was pretty awkward.
That is, when I finally reached it. They weren't prepared for an influx like this, that much was pretty obvious.
"Azz808 I presume. Your... accomplishments have been observed"
"Ah, yeah. Well, the vacuum was on and that. I dunno. How was I supposed to know?"
"Indeed"
"So. What happens now?"
"What happens now? Well... not much **now**"
"But I mean, do I still get in?"
"Hmmm. Well..."
I had to haggle for a bit, but after a few decades I was able to convince him that it was just one of those things. Could have happened to the best of us.
I'm still known around town of course. Probably take an eternity or two for people to forget about my little moment back on our old home, but it's not too bad. | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | Exhausted from a double-shift at your local Greasy Spoon & Bar, I flick on the TV. My son, 5, is up and bawling for attention despite the late hour, and his mother is too busy running lines of coke off the tits of her friends at the club to be bothered to be home. *I wish she'd never met those freaks,* I think to myself.
I grab some applesauce from the fridge, something to appease both my son and I, and a shot glass, just for me... unless the little tyke really won't fall asleep. His smile when he sees the bowl is almost worth the tantrum he'll throw when he realizes it's not all for him.
He sits on my lap in our beat-up laz-y-boy recliner, while we munch on Mott's Cinnamon and the talking heads regale us with tales of local misfortune. *Today at six-o-clock, armed robbers were witnessed raiding the local Wall-E-World shopping mart, stealing all manner of electronics and tools. Several people were injured in a shoot-out between the raiders and the local police response force, with four in critical condition. Robberies have been on the rise since the collapse of the global economy in 2019. Wall-E-World spokesman, Albrecht Midas, has this to say...*
I looked towards my son, whose wide smile as I bounced him on my knee offset the applesauce dripping down his chin. "I wish you didn't have to grow up in a world where that sort of thing happens." His smile continued, vacant any reaction to my expression of frustration and goodwill.
I tucked him in again, looking at the clock. 3 am. She won't be coming home again tonight. *Maybe we'd be better off...*
*****
I'm driving down the highway. Everyone is remarkably respectful of the rules of the road, it's like a dream. Everyone's signalling, everyone's merging. I'm driving through a particularly shady neighborhood and see heavily tattooed, muscular guys wearing chains and gold jewelry helping an old lady with her groceries. It's odd; must be one of those serendipitous days where everything just goes right.
I'm headed to a bank. Over the last few weeks I'd been promoted to head bartender, and then to assistant manager. The pay increases meant I could afford a nice home for my son and I, and... well, maybe Andrea too. She'd been on the mend for the last few weeks, too. Usually that just meant she'd drank way too much and felt like shit, then realized she was out of money for coke, and her dealers wouldn't sleep with her because they had a new piece that was more interesting. But she'd really been helping out, doing the dishes and helping get Billy ready for school. Maybe this time was different.
At the bank, there was an orderly queue. Every five minutes like clockwork another customer would be asked to proceed to the window. Strangely, some of them were returning to the line. *That's odd...*
Eventually I make it to the front, where a well-dressed man asks how he can help. I explain that I'm looking for a loan, while he smiles and nods politely, then points at another line. "Our loan specialist, Joan, will be happy to help you. Please enter that queue--"
"Look, I only have about a half an hour before I need to get to work. Is there any way you could help me?"
"I'm sorry sir. Our loan specialist is the one you'll need to speak to about originating a loan, I'm not able to help you. It shouldn't be long."
I wait in the queue, grumbling in my mind. *I wish this was all easy. Money, family, life. Too much talking and paperwork to make things happen.* I reach the front of the line, where Joan, the loan specialist, takes my information and begins the process to approve me for my home loan. After five minutes, she asks me to step aside for the next customer.
"But we're not done!"
"Yes sir, but bank policy states that we can only spend a maximum of five minutes per customer."
"I can't wait for the line again, I have to go to work!"
"We are available at the posted hours to assist you, should you decide to return!" She smiled, as though this was helpful to me.
"Can't you make an exception this time?"
"I'm sorry, sir. That would be breaking the rules. If we did that for you, then everyone else would think they could break the rules too. I'm sure you don't want to live in a world where that kind of thing happens. It would be madness!"
Ignoring the odd choice of phrase, I returned to my car, driving to work. I reached the parking lot, where the assistant manager's space was blocked by a hearse. *Oh, no...* I thought, as I prepared to find another spot to part. But, just as I approached, the vehicle moved.
Jenny, our bus-girl and events-coordinator met me at the door. "Frank, did you hear?"
"I saw a hearse. What's happened?"
"The owner's gone, slipped on a grease-spot and hit his head on the counter. Didn't end well for him, ambulance declared him DOA."
"That's a shame. Uh, are we closed then?"
"You tell me!"
"Huh?"
"Didn't you know? He left you the bar!"
*****
I'd sold the bar a few years later, but not before I was able to franchise it across the tri-state area. I'd always thought it'd be fun to drive fast cars for a living, and my financial success meant that I got to test drive a few. A talent scout had seen me at the track and offered me a sponsorship if I'd enter as a rookie driver for his company. I've been topping rookie charts for about two years now, and don't look to be slowing down. It just feels easy, like people literally move out of the way when they see me coming.
My son is in private school, really doing well with grades and the ladies. Andrea finally cleaned up, got a part time job designing Hallmark cards and spends most of her time helping raise our son. Our relationship is improving... she comes to all my races and enjoys being the girl beside the rookie of the year.
All in all, life is good.
*****
"This is Frank," a blue-skinned imp described laconically to the audience. "Observe: in his world, nobody breaks the rules. His wife has no friends through which to express her need to feel carefree, and will shoot herself within the next two years due to that absence of independence and the release offered by pursuing her vices. Queue times are exhaustive due to the inability for employees to break company policy and spend the needed amount of time with customers. Some companies have addressed this by stating that employees are to spend as much time as needed to help every customer. Trolls are thus able to exacerbate the problem by continually stating their problem is not solved... resulting in significant overtime hours billed by employees and occasionally bankrupting companies trying to do the right thing.
Frank himself will never realize this, because everything comes easily to him. People move out of his way when he drives, money falls into his lap when it is needed, everyone he meets is inclined to love him. He's created a narcissistic bubble in which he is king. We've found that nine times out of ten, humans will repeatedly do the same. Let's move to the next exhibit.
This is John..."
The young genies-in-training followed along curiously, taking notes and observing the differences between each world, and the folly of humans and other species, as the unintentional consequences of their actions had significant impact on the world around them. One remarked to the other, "The Apocalypse Prevention Center and Wish Oversight Committee are certainly thorough. Capturing the humans and simulating their wishes is *way* safer than changing the world."
"But how does it work? I thought we *had* to grant their wishes."
"Look at Frank! Nobody breaks the rules, everything is easy, and his wife doesn't know who those friends were. All his wishes *are* fulfilled. We just didn't have to make the rest of the world suffer for it."
As they moved exhibit to exhibit, occasionally little blue genies would catapult down tubes from the outside world, to the Apocalypse Prevention Center's core nexus, with yet another human in tow, inevitably towards the door with the sign above it, "Reality is what *you* make of it." | "I wish that I could clean this basement faster."
It happened almost instantly. Objects arranging themselves into neat piles and on the shelves, water just moving around the floor to clear the dust off and hell, even the dead rat's corpse just stood up and walked out leaving me dumbfounded.
"What the hell? I sure wish I knew what was going on..."
And again, another strange thing happened. A little man jumped out right in front of my face and told me he was a genie and I have three wishes. That was the best thing I've ever heard in my life and...
"Awwww man, I wish I had known this earlier!"
Oh crap! | |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | Exhausted from a double-shift at your local Greasy Spoon & Bar, I flick on the TV. My son, 5, is up and bawling for attention despite the late hour, and his mother is too busy running lines of coke off the tits of her friends at the club to be bothered to be home. *I wish she'd never met those freaks,* I think to myself.
I grab some applesauce from the fridge, something to appease both my son and I, and a shot glass, just for me... unless the little tyke really won't fall asleep. His smile when he sees the bowl is almost worth the tantrum he'll throw when he realizes it's not all for him.
He sits on my lap in our beat-up laz-y-boy recliner, while we munch on Mott's Cinnamon and the talking heads regale us with tales of local misfortune. *Today at six-o-clock, armed robbers were witnessed raiding the local Wall-E-World shopping mart, stealing all manner of electronics and tools. Several people were injured in a shoot-out between the raiders and the local police response force, with four in critical condition. Robberies have been on the rise since the collapse of the global economy in 2019. Wall-E-World spokesman, Albrecht Midas, has this to say...*
I looked towards my son, whose wide smile as I bounced him on my knee offset the applesauce dripping down his chin. "I wish you didn't have to grow up in a world where that sort of thing happens." His smile continued, vacant any reaction to my expression of frustration and goodwill.
I tucked him in again, looking at the clock. 3 am. She won't be coming home again tonight. *Maybe we'd be better off...*
*****
I'm driving down the highway. Everyone is remarkably respectful of the rules of the road, it's like a dream. Everyone's signalling, everyone's merging. I'm driving through a particularly shady neighborhood and see heavily tattooed, muscular guys wearing chains and gold jewelry helping an old lady with her groceries. It's odd; must be one of those serendipitous days where everything just goes right.
I'm headed to a bank. Over the last few weeks I'd been promoted to head bartender, and then to assistant manager. The pay increases meant I could afford a nice home for my son and I, and... well, maybe Andrea too. She'd been on the mend for the last few weeks, too. Usually that just meant she'd drank way too much and felt like shit, then realized she was out of money for coke, and her dealers wouldn't sleep with her because they had a new piece that was more interesting. But she'd really been helping out, doing the dishes and helping get Billy ready for school. Maybe this time was different.
At the bank, there was an orderly queue. Every five minutes like clockwork another customer would be asked to proceed to the window. Strangely, some of them were returning to the line. *That's odd...*
Eventually I make it to the front, where a well-dressed man asks how he can help. I explain that I'm looking for a loan, while he smiles and nods politely, then points at another line. "Our loan specialist, Joan, will be happy to help you. Please enter that queue--"
"Look, I only have about a half an hour before I need to get to work. Is there any way you could help me?"
"I'm sorry sir. Our loan specialist is the one you'll need to speak to about originating a loan, I'm not able to help you. It shouldn't be long."
I wait in the queue, grumbling in my mind. *I wish this was all easy. Money, family, life. Too much talking and paperwork to make things happen.* I reach the front of the line, where Joan, the loan specialist, takes my information and begins the process to approve me for my home loan. After five minutes, she asks me to step aside for the next customer.
"But we're not done!"
"Yes sir, but bank policy states that we can only spend a maximum of five minutes per customer."
"I can't wait for the line again, I have to go to work!"
"We are available at the posted hours to assist you, should you decide to return!" She smiled, as though this was helpful to me.
"Can't you make an exception this time?"
"I'm sorry, sir. That would be breaking the rules. If we did that for you, then everyone else would think they could break the rules too. I'm sure you don't want to live in a world where that kind of thing happens. It would be madness!"
Ignoring the odd choice of phrase, I returned to my car, driving to work. I reached the parking lot, where the assistant manager's space was blocked by a hearse. *Oh, no...* I thought, as I prepared to find another spot to part. But, just as I approached, the vehicle moved.
Jenny, our bus-girl and events-coordinator met me at the door. "Frank, did you hear?"
"I saw a hearse. What's happened?"
"The owner's gone, slipped on a grease-spot and hit his head on the counter. Didn't end well for him, ambulance declared him DOA."
"That's a shame. Uh, are we closed then?"
"You tell me!"
"Huh?"
"Didn't you know? He left you the bar!"
*****
I'd sold the bar a few years later, but not before I was able to franchise it across the tri-state area. I'd always thought it'd be fun to drive fast cars for a living, and my financial success meant that I got to test drive a few. A talent scout had seen me at the track and offered me a sponsorship if I'd enter as a rookie driver for his company. I've been topping rookie charts for about two years now, and don't look to be slowing down. It just feels easy, like people literally move out of the way when they see me coming.
My son is in private school, really doing well with grades and the ladies. Andrea finally cleaned up, got a part time job designing Hallmark cards and spends most of her time helping raise our son. Our relationship is improving... she comes to all my races and enjoys being the girl beside the rookie of the year.
All in all, life is good.
*****
"This is Frank," a blue-skinned imp described laconically to the audience. "Observe: in his world, nobody breaks the rules. His wife has no friends through which to express her need to feel carefree, and will shoot herself within the next two years due to that absence of independence and the release offered by pursuing her vices. Queue times are exhaustive due to the inability for employees to break company policy and spend the needed amount of time with customers. Some companies have addressed this by stating that employees are to spend as much time as needed to help every customer. Trolls are thus able to exacerbate the problem by continually stating their problem is not solved... resulting in significant overtime hours billed by employees and occasionally bankrupting companies trying to do the right thing.
Frank himself will never realize this, because everything comes easily to him. People move out of his way when he drives, money falls into his lap when it is needed, everyone he meets is inclined to love him. He's created a narcissistic bubble in which he is king. We've found that nine times out of ten, humans will repeatedly do the same. Let's move to the next exhibit.
This is John..."
The young genies-in-training followed along curiously, taking notes and observing the differences between each world, and the folly of humans and other species, as the unintentional consequences of their actions had significant impact on the world around them. One remarked to the other, "The Apocalypse Prevention Center and Wish Oversight Committee are certainly thorough. Capturing the humans and simulating their wishes is *way* safer than changing the world."
"But how does it work? I thought we *had* to grant their wishes."
"Look at Frank! Nobody breaks the rules, everything is easy, and his wife doesn't know who those friends were. All his wishes *are* fulfilled. We just didn't have to make the rest of the world suffer for it."
As they moved exhibit to exhibit, occasionally little blue genies would catapult down tubes from the outside world, to the Apocalypse Prevention Center's core nexus, with yet another human in tow, inevitably towards the door with the sign above it, "Reality is what *you* make of it." | I have terrible taste in music - I mean terrible.
Well, to be fair, I don't actually *like* most of the songs I find myself obsessively singing, they just get stuck in my head and I find myself unconsciously singing them for weeks on end. Half the time I'm not even aware I'm doing it unless someone says something to me. I'm pretty lucky in that my wife actually finds this to be a rather endearing quality in me, especially as I quietly sang *Baby Got Back* through out the first month of our courtship, and again in the weeks up to our marriage. We spent out honeymoon in the south a France. We wandered through vineyards, I drank wine, she ate cheese, and I quietly sang *Move Bitch, Get Out the Way...*
"*Da da da da da daa daa* Good lord this basement is filthy."
We'd been home exactly one week. We had agreed that we could wait one week before tackling the mess that was our home. After a wedding and a month in France, the house was beginning to look like an episode of hoarders. We had decided to start in the basement and work up.
My wife glanced up from a pile of rubbish that was beginning to resemble the Tower of Babel and said,
"You're the one who wanted to clean this mess up. I was perfectly content spending another day in bed." She winked at me, turned around, and bent at the waist in a way that should probably be illegal.
"*Da da da... I wish I wa...* You are dangerous woman. Hey, whats this?" I picked up a tiny bronze lamp and held it up to the light. Waist deep in what appeared to be empty cardboard boxes, my wife glance up,
"Oh, that's probably just something from my old Barbie sets. Just throw it out."
"*Do de... scheme a way... da da* Yes ma'am." The little trinket went in the garbage and I turned to tackle the boxes behind me.
As I turn, I banged my head soundly on the ceiling joist. My wife giggled. Rubbing my head and swearing, I pulled down the next box on the shelf.
"*Dum da... wish i was a b...* looks like all that French wine made me grow an inch."
"Suuuuuure dear, keep telling yourself that."
"He look!" The box contained old tennis balls; I began juggling.
"Baller," my wife said with a smirk. She sat down on a box and watched. "How long do you think you can keep that up... if I do this?" She slowly unhooked the top button of her blouse. I managed to keep it the balls airborne until her shirt came all the way off. After that, I had no hope whatsoever.
We lay the aftermath, my wife softly stroking my chest.
"You know, we haven't used a condom in the last month..." She had a thoughtful look on her face.
"*Da da... who looked good...* Oh well? And kid we make will be awesome." I smile down at her.
"SHE will look good too," she smiled back. My wife really wanted our first to be a girl.
We decide to abandon the basement for later and work on the kitchen instead. We got dressed, and headed back upstairs.
"*Da da da de da da* OWW! " This time, I nailed my head on the frame of the basement door. My wife pulled me down and kissed my forehead.
"Maybe you DID get a little bit taller... What ARE you singing??"
"Oh, that stupid song by Skee-Lo," my wife looked blank. "Oh you know:
I wish I was little bit taller
I wish I was a baller
I wish I had a girl who looked good"
| |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | Exhausted from a double-shift at your local Greasy Spoon & Bar, I flick on the TV. My son, 5, is up and bawling for attention despite the late hour, and his mother is too busy running lines of coke off the tits of her friends at the club to be bothered to be home. *I wish she'd never met those freaks,* I think to myself.
I grab some applesauce from the fridge, something to appease both my son and I, and a shot glass, just for me... unless the little tyke really won't fall asleep. His smile when he sees the bowl is almost worth the tantrum he'll throw when he realizes it's not all for him.
He sits on my lap in our beat-up laz-y-boy recliner, while we munch on Mott's Cinnamon and the talking heads regale us with tales of local misfortune. *Today at six-o-clock, armed robbers were witnessed raiding the local Wall-E-World shopping mart, stealing all manner of electronics and tools. Several people were injured in a shoot-out between the raiders and the local police response force, with four in critical condition. Robberies have been on the rise since the collapse of the global economy in 2019. Wall-E-World spokesman, Albrecht Midas, has this to say...*
I looked towards my son, whose wide smile as I bounced him on my knee offset the applesauce dripping down his chin. "I wish you didn't have to grow up in a world where that sort of thing happens." His smile continued, vacant any reaction to my expression of frustration and goodwill.
I tucked him in again, looking at the clock. 3 am. She won't be coming home again tonight. *Maybe we'd be better off...*
*****
I'm driving down the highway. Everyone is remarkably respectful of the rules of the road, it's like a dream. Everyone's signalling, everyone's merging. I'm driving through a particularly shady neighborhood and see heavily tattooed, muscular guys wearing chains and gold jewelry helping an old lady with her groceries. It's odd; must be one of those serendipitous days where everything just goes right.
I'm headed to a bank. Over the last few weeks I'd been promoted to head bartender, and then to assistant manager. The pay increases meant I could afford a nice home for my son and I, and... well, maybe Andrea too. She'd been on the mend for the last few weeks, too. Usually that just meant she'd drank way too much and felt like shit, then realized she was out of money for coke, and her dealers wouldn't sleep with her because they had a new piece that was more interesting. But she'd really been helping out, doing the dishes and helping get Billy ready for school. Maybe this time was different.
At the bank, there was an orderly queue. Every five minutes like clockwork another customer would be asked to proceed to the window. Strangely, some of them were returning to the line. *That's odd...*
Eventually I make it to the front, where a well-dressed man asks how he can help. I explain that I'm looking for a loan, while he smiles and nods politely, then points at another line. "Our loan specialist, Joan, will be happy to help you. Please enter that queue--"
"Look, I only have about a half an hour before I need to get to work. Is there any way you could help me?"
"I'm sorry sir. Our loan specialist is the one you'll need to speak to about originating a loan, I'm not able to help you. It shouldn't be long."
I wait in the queue, grumbling in my mind. *I wish this was all easy. Money, family, life. Too much talking and paperwork to make things happen.* I reach the front of the line, where Joan, the loan specialist, takes my information and begins the process to approve me for my home loan. After five minutes, she asks me to step aside for the next customer.
"But we're not done!"
"Yes sir, but bank policy states that we can only spend a maximum of five minutes per customer."
"I can't wait for the line again, I have to go to work!"
"We are available at the posted hours to assist you, should you decide to return!" She smiled, as though this was helpful to me.
"Can't you make an exception this time?"
"I'm sorry, sir. That would be breaking the rules. If we did that for you, then everyone else would think they could break the rules too. I'm sure you don't want to live in a world where that kind of thing happens. It would be madness!"
Ignoring the odd choice of phrase, I returned to my car, driving to work. I reached the parking lot, where the assistant manager's space was blocked by a hearse. *Oh, no...* I thought, as I prepared to find another spot to part. But, just as I approached, the vehicle moved.
Jenny, our bus-girl and events-coordinator met me at the door. "Frank, did you hear?"
"I saw a hearse. What's happened?"
"The owner's gone, slipped on a grease-spot and hit his head on the counter. Didn't end well for him, ambulance declared him DOA."
"That's a shame. Uh, are we closed then?"
"You tell me!"
"Huh?"
"Didn't you know? He left you the bar!"
*****
I'd sold the bar a few years later, but not before I was able to franchise it across the tri-state area. I'd always thought it'd be fun to drive fast cars for a living, and my financial success meant that I got to test drive a few. A talent scout had seen me at the track and offered me a sponsorship if I'd enter as a rookie driver for his company. I've been topping rookie charts for about two years now, and don't look to be slowing down. It just feels easy, like people literally move out of the way when they see me coming.
My son is in private school, really doing well with grades and the ladies. Andrea finally cleaned up, got a part time job designing Hallmark cards and spends most of her time helping raise our son. Our relationship is improving... she comes to all my races and enjoys being the girl beside the rookie of the year.
All in all, life is good.
*****
"This is Frank," a blue-skinned imp described laconically to the audience. "Observe: in his world, nobody breaks the rules. His wife has no friends through which to express her need to feel carefree, and will shoot herself within the next two years due to that absence of independence and the release offered by pursuing her vices. Queue times are exhaustive due to the inability for employees to break company policy and spend the needed amount of time with customers. Some companies have addressed this by stating that employees are to spend as much time as needed to help every customer. Trolls are thus able to exacerbate the problem by continually stating their problem is not solved... resulting in significant overtime hours billed by employees and occasionally bankrupting companies trying to do the right thing.
Frank himself will never realize this, because everything comes easily to him. People move out of his way when he drives, money falls into his lap when it is needed, everyone he meets is inclined to love him. He's created a narcissistic bubble in which he is king. We've found that nine times out of ten, humans will repeatedly do the same. Let's move to the next exhibit.
This is John..."
The young genies-in-training followed along curiously, taking notes and observing the differences between each world, and the folly of humans and other species, as the unintentional consequences of their actions had significant impact on the world around them. One remarked to the other, "The Apocalypse Prevention Center and Wish Oversight Committee are certainly thorough. Capturing the humans and simulating their wishes is *way* safer than changing the world."
"But how does it work? I thought we *had* to grant their wishes."
"Look at Frank! Nobody breaks the rules, everything is easy, and his wife doesn't know who those friends were. All his wishes *are* fulfilled. We just didn't have to make the rest of the world suffer for it."
As they moved exhibit to exhibit, occasionally little blue genies would catapult down tubes from the outside world, to the Apocalypse Prevention Center's core nexus, with yet another human in tow, inevitably towards the door with the sign above it, "Reality is what *you* make of it." | Fucking hell, thought Dan, as he took in the enormity of the task before him. It would take him all day to tidy this place up. For a moment he was tempted to leave it as it is, but Grace knows him all too well. She comes back from her trip tomorrow, and expects the basement to be clean – or no sex.
Dan reluctantly decides to look around. There are a whole lot of curiosities in Grace’s basement that he’d never taken the time to look at – stuff left to her by her grandparents.
A moment later he hears a thud on the floor, and he curses as he realises he’s knocked something off a shelf. Dan bends down to take a look. It’s a strangely purple bottle made of crystal, and fortunately it’s not broken. He sets it back on the shelf, and as he turns away he hears a noise. Dan pauses. It sounded like a murmur. He looks around the dimly lit basement.
“Hello?” he calls out, not expecting a reply. Dan mentally shrugs it off and sets his mind back on his task.
________________________________________
“I didn’t fucking know they were that important to you, you told me to clean the basement and it looked like junk!” yells Dan.
Grace was back, and they were fighting.
“You should’ve called and asked instead of just throwing them out! God you piss me off so much sometimes, I could kill you!” replies Grace.
The moment Dan finishes his next sentence, a change comes over Grace. This change is reminiscent of a robot that has been powered on, limbs being injected with electronic commands and purpose. Except with Grace, her tiny frame is instead filled with violent intent.
“Oh yeah, well I fucking wish you would kill me, then I wouldn’t have to deal with your bullshit,” says Dan as he opens a cupboard door.
He continues to talk as he makes himself a cup of coffee. A moment later Grace launches herself at his back. In his shock he throws her off, and she lands awkwardly on the floor. Dan turns on her.
“What the fuck were you trying to do? You startled me” says Dan. He notices blood on the floor between them, and at first he thinks he’s hurt her, but then he realises it’s coming from him. He notices the bloody knife in Grace’s hands and shock runs through him. As soon as that thought occurs, he begins to feel a sharp throbbing pain in his back. He feels around with his hands, and they come away drenched in blood.
“Grace,” says Dan - his words sounding more like a gasp now, “What on Earth are you doing?”
Meanwhile Grace has gotten back to her feet. Her expression is determined, focused like that of a child consumed in her drawing – her eyes locked on Dan and seemingly oblivious of anything else around her. Grace runs at him knife first and just before she reaches him she freezes. Dan is leaning with his side against the kitchen counter, still staring at Grace in disbelief.
“Grace?” Dan says, as he begins to feel lightheaded.
“She can’t hear you,” comes a voice. Dan looks around but can’t pinpoint the direction the voice is coming from.
“Who are you?” calls Dan.
“I am the Purveyor of Dreams and the Curator of Sorrow, I am the beginning and the end,” replies the voice grandly.
“You’re… god?”
“No, I’m just kidding. I’m the Genie of the Lamp, you freed me when you knocked over my prison. It seems you couldn’t hear my initial explanation of our contract.”
“A …genie? …What contract?” asks Dan, blinking as his eyesight begins to grow hazy and he slumps lower over the counter. The voice seems to sigh dramatically in exasperation.
“Basically buddy, you get three wishes. You’ve already used one of them – as strange as it was,” says the Genie. “I had to interfere, sorry about that. Can’t have you dying before completing your contract, no matter how miserable you may be.”
“So you’re saying …I wished for Grace to do this? ...I thought you couldn’t wish for things against peoples will.”
“Yeah, the reality of our power is quite different to what you’ve seen in ‘Aladdin’. You can interfere with human will, it’s just hard. In this case it was made easier because she was already angry at you when you made the wish.”
“So I have two more wishes?” Dan says as he looks out the window. Through his fuzzy mind he notices that nothing is moving – it suddenly occurs to him that not only Grace, but time itself seems to be frozen.
“Yep, and I recommend that one of them be to save your life – ‘cause you’re dying, as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now.”
“But you just said you couldn’t let me die, so why would I use a wish on that if you’re going to save me anyway?” says Dan, managing a slight smirk.
For a while the voice was silent. Then it came, “No I can’t let you die, but I could just leave you to rot like this until you change your mind. While you technically can’t die, you will still suffer the pain of your wounds and of starvation. And it will never end. As for me, I am used to waiting. I think this would be much less pleasant for you, no?”
Dan suddenly felt an impending urgency, like he had forgotten something important that he needed to do. He looked around, and it seemed like the world itself was scrutinising him – from the furniture to the trees in the yard. He realised this was the Genie impressing his will upon him, pressuring him to make a decision.
“What if I ask you to rewind time an hour or so, will I get my wishes back?”
“No. It is possible to save yourself by rewinding time, but that would not replenish your three wishes. My power transcends time, and I do not forget. If you take this course, you will have one wish remaining.”
Dan took a moment to think, his breath now laboured. “Then I wish to go back in time – to right after I … freed you from your prison.” Immediately the air around him took on a note on approval, and everything suddenly changed.
________________________________________
Dan was back in the basement. He felt around for his wound. No sign of blood. He felt fine as well. He shook his head at the absurdity of the situation. He bent down to pick up the curiously shaped crystal bottle, inspecting it carefully. As he held it to his face he began to hear the genie’s voice, growing in volume.
“… Let’s skip the introductions,” said the Genie wryly, “You have one wish left, what will it be?”
Dan pretended he didn’t hear, instead he went sifting around the basement. He found the old paintings that had started his fight with Grace, an heirloom from her grandfather who had drawn fairy tales for children. Grace had always loved fairy tales. What a fucking idiot I am, he thought.
He reflected on what had happened, what he had seen and felt …Grace trying to kill him. He shook his head once again, and set the paintings down carefully. After a moment he said:
“I want Grace and me to have a happy ending. I don’t want to know what it is, or how we’ll get there. I want our lives to be a fairy tale together, but nothing too crazy – I don’t want any dragons or mystical creatures to pop up. I want a fairy tale in the context of our lives. That’s what I wish for.”
The genie responded with glee in his voice, almost mockingly, “Well well, I didn’t peg you for a romantic one! Interesting request, yes indeed, very interesting… Consider it done!”
There was a crackling of the air around him, and he knew the genie was gone. With alarm, he also noticed that the crystal bottle had disappeared from the shelf.
FUCK, Dan thought, I have to clean this shit up all over again. At that thought, he began to laugh. He laughed at the surreal experience and at his immaturity. It occurred to him that perhaps he had dreamt the entire thing up - that made him laugh even harder. Wouldn’t that mean I’m nuts?, he thought. Better not tell Grace, he decided, she’ll only get worried.
| |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | "I wish this day would end faster." There was nobody to hear my plea, but I talk to myself when I'm alone. "Who doesn't?"
As I noticed that my watch and the clock on the wall weren't in sync, I smelled smoke. "I wish I hadn't burnt my dinner." There I go talking to myself again. When I opened the oven smoke poured out, but strangely my meatloaf looked just fine.
"I wish I knew what made that happen."
Oh damn. | Fucking hell, thought Dan, as he took in the enormity of the task before him. It would take him all day to tidy this place up. For a moment he was tempted to leave it as it is, but Grace knows him all too well. She comes back from her trip tomorrow, and expects the basement to be clean – or no sex.
Dan reluctantly decides to look around. There are a whole lot of curiosities in Grace’s basement that he’d never taken the time to look at – stuff left to her by her grandparents.
A moment later he hears a thud on the floor, and he curses as he realises he’s knocked something off a shelf. Dan bends down to take a look. It’s a strangely purple bottle made of crystal, and fortunately it’s not broken. He sets it back on the shelf, and as he turns away he hears a noise. Dan pauses. It sounded like a murmur. He looks around the dimly lit basement.
“Hello?” he calls out, not expecting a reply. Dan mentally shrugs it off and sets his mind back on his task.
________________________________________
“I didn’t fucking know they were that important to you, you told me to clean the basement and it looked like junk!” yells Dan.
Grace was back, and they were fighting.
“You should’ve called and asked instead of just throwing them out! God you piss me off so much sometimes, I could kill you!” replies Grace.
The moment Dan finishes his next sentence, a change comes over Grace. This change is reminiscent of a robot that has been powered on, limbs being injected with electronic commands and purpose. Except with Grace, her tiny frame is instead filled with violent intent.
“Oh yeah, well I fucking wish you would kill me, then I wouldn’t have to deal with your bullshit,” says Dan as he opens a cupboard door.
He continues to talk as he makes himself a cup of coffee. A moment later Grace launches herself at his back. In his shock he throws her off, and she lands awkwardly on the floor. Dan turns on her.
“What the fuck were you trying to do? You startled me” says Dan. He notices blood on the floor between them, and at first he thinks he’s hurt her, but then he realises it’s coming from him. He notices the bloody knife in Grace’s hands and shock runs through him. As soon as that thought occurs, he begins to feel a sharp throbbing pain in his back. He feels around with his hands, and they come away drenched in blood.
“Grace,” says Dan - his words sounding more like a gasp now, “What on Earth are you doing?”
Meanwhile Grace has gotten back to her feet. Her expression is determined, focused like that of a child consumed in her drawing – her eyes locked on Dan and seemingly oblivious of anything else around her. Grace runs at him knife first and just before she reaches him she freezes. Dan is leaning with his side against the kitchen counter, still staring at Grace in disbelief.
“Grace?” Dan says, as he begins to feel lightheaded.
“She can’t hear you,” comes a voice. Dan looks around but can’t pinpoint the direction the voice is coming from.
“Who are you?” calls Dan.
“I am the Purveyor of Dreams and the Curator of Sorrow, I am the beginning and the end,” replies the voice grandly.
“You’re… god?”
“No, I’m just kidding. I’m the Genie of the Lamp, you freed me when you knocked over my prison. It seems you couldn’t hear my initial explanation of our contract.”
“A …genie? …What contract?” asks Dan, blinking as his eyesight begins to grow hazy and he slumps lower over the counter. The voice seems to sigh dramatically in exasperation.
“Basically buddy, you get three wishes. You’ve already used one of them – as strange as it was,” says the Genie. “I had to interfere, sorry about that. Can’t have you dying before completing your contract, no matter how miserable you may be.”
“So you’re saying …I wished for Grace to do this? ...I thought you couldn’t wish for things against peoples will.”
“Yeah, the reality of our power is quite different to what you’ve seen in ‘Aladdin’. You can interfere with human will, it’s just hard. In this case it was made easier because she was already angry at you when you made the wish.”
“So I have two more wishes?” Dan says as he looks out the window. Through his fuzzy mind he notices that nothing is moving – it suddenly occurs to him that not only Grace, but time itself seems to be frozen.
“Yep, and I recommend that one of them be to save your life – ‘cause you’re dying, as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now.”
“But you just said you couldn’t let me die, so why would I use a wish on that if you’re going to save me anyway?” says Dan, managing a slight smirk.
For a while the voice was silent. Then it came, “No I can’t let you die, but I could just leave you to rot like this until you change your mind. While you technically can’t die, you will still suffer the pain of your wounds and of starvation. And it will never end. As for me, I am used to waiting. I think this would be much less pleasant for you, no?”
Dan suddenly felt an impending urgency, like he had forgotten something important that he needed to do. He looked around, and it seemed like the world itself was scrutinising him – from the furniture to the trees in the yard. He realised this was the Genie impressing his will upon him, pressuring him to make a decision.
“What if I ask you to rewind time an hour or so, will I get my wishes back?”
“No. It is possible to save yourself by rewinding time, but that would not replenish your three wishes. My power transcends time, and I do not forget. If you take this course, you will have one wish remaining.”
Dan took a moment to think, his breath now laboured. “Then I wish to go back in time – to right after I … freed you from your prison.” Immediately the air around him took on a note on approval, and everything suddenly changed.
________________________________________
Dan was back in the basement. He felt around for his wound. No sign of blood. He felt fine as well. He shook his head at the absurdity of the situation. He bent down to pick up the curiously shaped crystal bottle, inspecting it carefully. As he held it to his face he began to hear the genie’s voice, growing in volume.
“… Let’s skip the introductions,” said the Genie wryly, “You have one wish left, what will it be?”
Dan pretended he didn’t hear, instead he went sifting around the basement. He found the old paintings that had started his fight with Grace, an heirloom from her grandfather who had drawn fairy tales for children. Grace had always loved fairy tales. What a fucking idiot I am, he thought.
He reflected on what had happened, what he had seen and felt …Grace trying to kill him. He shook his head once again, and set the paintings down carefully. After a moment he said:
“I want Grace and me to have a happy ending. I don’t want to know what it is, or how we’ll get there. I want our lives to be a fairy tale together, but nothing too crazy – I don’t want any dragons or mystical creatures to pop up. I want a fairy tale in the context of our lives. That’s what I wish for.”
The genie responded with glee in his voice, almost mockingly, “Well well, I didn’t peg you for a romantic one! Interesting request, yes indeed, very interesting… Consider it done!”
There was a crackling of the air around him, and he knew the genie was gone. With alarm, he also noticed that the crystal bottle had disappeared from the shelf.
FUCK, Dan thought, I have to clean this shit up all over again. At that thought, he began to laugh. He laughed at the surreal experience and at his immaturity. It occurred to him that perhaps he had dreamt the entire thing up - that made him laugh even harder. Wouldn’t that mean I’m nuts?, he thought. Better not tell Grace, he decided, she’ll only get worried.
| |
[WP] While cleaning your basement, you accidentally free the worlds smallest genie. You do not hear him tell you he will grant your three next wishes. | [[ Late edit to include prologue]]
There is something to be said about basement cleaning, though Dave wasn't quite sure what that thing was. Perhaps one day he'd figure it out, but today he was cleaning the basement for a single reason in particular. That reason, of course, was definitely not to find a genie. Therefore Dave was not very surprised when he failed to notice the thimble sized genie, recently freed from an old tea kettle, standing on his shoulder shouting something about wishes, freedom, and biscuits. Had he noticed the genie he probably would have done what anyone would have done... freak out, squish the insect sized thing standing on his shoulder, and then assume the whole thing was a hallucination caused by not enough tea or too much ale. Luckily for the genie, Dave was not an observant man.
Eventually the basement cleaning reached the point that all basement cleanings eventually reach before they're actually clean. This is, of course, the point at which all human beings are known to give up on basement cleaning for the rest of their lives and refuse to even acknowledge the existence of the concept of basements for at least 6 months on average. Dave, pleased that he even tried, decided to go about his day.
**Wish One**
The rain fell from the sky in thick, ghostly sheets. It was the kind of storm that you only really get to see when you've somehow been stuck outside and are soaked so rapidly that you give up on even finding shelter within a few moments. It was one of those storms that forces you to simultaneously appreciate the beauty of the universe and the depth of your own personal misfortune. Overall, it was a pleasant storm, but Dave didn't think so when the fourth car in a row happened to splash him with a roadside puddle. Dave, in what is normally considered an acceptable spout of rage, wished that the fourth driver would 'burn in hell for all of eternity, you imbecilic, blue faced, badger loving, fart muncher'. Now, this is usually considered quite the tame insult in Britain, but it is quite rare, much to Dave's chagrin, for the offending driver to then immediately burst into flames which seem to burn indefinitely, regardless of the amount of chemical retardant or water used in an attempt to put it out. It has been said that some eggheads from the university were now attempting to use this eternally burning corpse as a source of energy. Dave tried to forget this event.
**Wish Two**
Our homely protagonist did what any Englishman would do when faced with the existential fear caused by coincidental spontaneously combustive motorists and headed to his favorite pub. It only took eight pints, taken 7 days a week for the next four weeks, for Dave to transform his guilt into a nonchalant humor about the whole thing. Luckily, things definitely started to look up when Dave, just finishing his eighth pint of the day, discovered that he was now the owner of the establishment. He thought it was a bit unusual that the former owner would give him the deed to the place only moments after he had drunkenly said to the politely indifferent man to his left something along the lines of, 'I wish I owned this place, eh? I wouldn't have to pay for all these bloody drinks!'. Dave, much too drunk to remember, let alone comprehend the significance of these events, stumbled home and slept it off. He continued to visit this pub daily, of course, although he was a bit confused as to why his drinks were henceforth free and why the employees now explicitly called him 'Sir'. "A smart man would not question such fortune", Dave would say. Sadly, he was such a not-smart man, that he got this saying completely wrong.
**Wish Three**
An average person may have eventually connected the dots and determined that his wishes were actually coming true. Dave was an impressively average man. Sadly, he was also now an impressively drunk accidental pub owner and never had much desire to think much about anything. Thus his third wish was wasted upon the most mundane of items, albeit a delicious one. Dave only experienced mild satisfaction when he drunkenly mumbled to himself, "I wish I had some peanuts right now." and thus found a bag of peanuts on his lap. Such a wish, of course, is an embarrassingly useless way to harness the raw power of the universe. This issue was compounded by the fact that Dave had accidentally bent the laws of reality to manifest peanuts when he could have simply asked the nearby bartender for the complimentary peanuts behind the counter.
___
Dave never realized the awe inspiring, world bending powers that he had at his fingertips for those few weeks. Though, some people hypothesize that he wouldn't have made much better decisions had he been aware anyways. In general, our protagonist never really changed his life much at all. The eternally burning corpse would eventually provide electricity for 75% of the UK. The pub, which he never realized he now owned, eventually became one of the most successful uptown pubs in London. This was mostly due to the popularity his unique 'act' of pretending that he was not the owner.
And what of the peanuts? They were tasty, of course. Dave later asked the bartender for more peanuts. As expected, he was granted them for free.
| Wishes I grant, you can have three,
By rubbing that VHS you summoned me.
Hey, can't you hear me? Please respond,
Just remember that your word is your bond.
.
The man was busy, he didn't notice,
The tiny genie that was out of his focus.
Upstairs he went, smiled as he hugged his wife,
Frowning as he saw all the bills and debt in his life.
.
She deserves better, he thought to himself,
Pondering hard, working out how to obtain wealth.
Giving up he slumped back in defeat,
I wish I had a million pounds, ah a wish right up my street.
.
Three weeks later, out of the blue, a distant relative dies,
A million in wealth after taxes, for him it must be a lie,
But he talks to a lawyer, it's all above board,
Now he has wealth to buy the thing's he couldn't afford.
.
His wife cheats on him, loves another man,
He wishes that she loved him, he didn't understand,
A wish like this would have consequences,
Now she loves him despite his offences.
.
It's fake, it's not love, it's not real,
He dumps her soon enough, but still,
She follows him everywhere, trying to show her love,
Win him back, but he's had enough.
.
I wish I was dead, his final wish granted by me,
Now he hopes in death he is free.
But she follows him into his heaven, turns it into his hell,
With the right decisions this could've ended so well.
----
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My subreddit /r/KNDwrites has all my WP responses | |
For clarification: any villain, either OC or from an EU, goes | [WP] Misguided or not, every villain has their own motives, their own personality. Write a story about the therapist who works with them. | It had been near a week of me sitting in the same room as my patient, trying to coax him to say anything. He never did. He just sat there in angered silence, occasionally letting out a small cackle. They had tied him to the bed, afraid he might attack me. They had every reason to be afraid. The last therapist was still in the hospital.
His words were so quiet, at first I didn't realize he said anything at all. He looked at me expectantly, a sad expression upon his face.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" I inquired.
"Forget it..." he muttered.
"No, please," I replied, perhaps a bit too eager. Would this finally be the breakthrough I had prayed for? "What did you say?"
"I said I like your bracelet," he answered.
"My bracelet?"
The patient nodded. "Reminds me of my mother's. Hers was gold, not silver, but I remember how much she loved it."
"What was she like?" I asked. *Finally*, I had a way in.
"She was..." He paused, frowning deeply. "There were five of us, all cramped in a tiny one bedroom apartment. My dad was constantly drunk. We were causing her trouble. She wasn't like those women you see on television, but she did the best she could."
"And you loved her?"
He nodded once, a frown on his face. "Gave her a bracelet like that for her birthday. I spent hours performing in the streets for it. Got just enough for a bracelet and a piece of taffy. She wore it for weeks, showing it off proudly to her friends. It was the one nice thing she ever had and she loved it."
I felt a lurch in my stomach. Somehow, these tales always seemed to end with a 'but'. "What happened?"
"Same thing that always happened. My dad needed the money for more liquor. Stole her bracelet. She cried almost all day. When he came home, she screamed at him. So--WHAM--right across the face."
I flinched. I could imagine the small boy cowering with his siblings. The mother on the ground. I knew the story, but it was never easier. The children always suffered for the mistakes of their parents.
He continued his story, tears welling in his eyes. "I never saw her smile after that. She'd been hit before, but she'd never seen how cruel my dad could be. Her one nice thing--the thing I got her--and he took it away. I always said if I ever met a nice girl like my mom, I wouldn't treat her like that."
"Yet you treat plenty of people bad," I pointed out.
He nodded, frowning. "Each time I get out of here, I try to live my life right. One time, even had a wife and kid. They're...gone now." I could hear his voice break as he said it. "An old...friend from my past found me. Blackmailed me into running some con and when I failed, he made sure I'd remember. These bruises, broken bones, and shattered teeth are nothing compared to the scars of knowing I failed the ones I loved. My mother. My wife. My son. It eats at me until there's nothing left but a cold blackness." He paused. "It's not all bad, though."
"No?" I inquired, hanging onto his every word.
He smiled at me and I felt my heart flutter. "Even in the dark, we find our light. That one thing that keeps us hanging on. Last week, I met mine. I just didn't know it until now."
I jumped as the door alarm blared. A security guard walked into the room and for some reason I could feel the heat build up in my cheeks. "Time's up. Warden wants him back in his cell," the guard said.
"Just a little more time?" I requested, a small panic building in my voice. I was so close to a breakthrough. So close to understanding the man behind the maniac. One step closer to rehabilitating this poor, poor man.
"Warden says now," the guard replied.
I let out a sigh, but my patient smiled at me. I felt calmer just looking at his smile.
"Don't worry. We'll talk more tomorrow, Doctor Quinzel."
| People in my profession don't usually last long. It's so confusing having to talk to these types. On the one hand they're terrible people who have ruined lives. On the other they're still people. A lot of them have convinced themselves that they're doing the right thing. Sometimes it's hard to argue.
These guys come from all across the multiverse. Some are from little old earth while others are from fantasy-like universes. My latest patient is from some sort of dystopian place where he's the ruler. He commits atrocities every day, and it's wearing him down. It's hard telling him that he has to keep going, but if he's going to save the world then he has to fight through the horrors he causes.
"It started when I was a teenager I guess." Says the supreme ruler. "I realized that what my father had done was terrible. Worse yet I realized that there was no way to stop him. We couldn't have a revolution. The nobles were happy with the way things were, and the underclass had been beaten down for so long that they'd lost the will to fight."
"From my position I can't do anything. If I try to make any changes I'll be replaced... So... I had an idea." The supreme ruler sighed deeply and ran his hand through his hair. "The people needed a hero. The problem being of course that there weren't any. Well as any storybook tells you the best way to make a hero is to give him a tragic background." The supreme leader averted his eyes and cleared his throat.
"So I implemented a new rule. Every year I'd visit the homes of the best and brightest kids, and I'd personally execute their parents in front of them for treason." The supreme leader's blank stare tunneled through the ceiling. "This year I hear that one of these kids has started making trouble. He's gathered a little group and he's been taking down government buildings one by one." A weak smile creeped onto the supreme leader's face.
"Word is he's headed for the capitol. Nothing we can do apparently. They say he's gunning for my head. He's been promising a complete revolution. Freedom for all and such." a mirthless chuckle escaped from the supreme leader's lips. "Well hopefully this'll be the last you hear from me. If you ever get a guy by the name of Shay Smith in here, well... I guess I just have to hope my little hero doesn't let his power go to his head."
|
[WP] Walk me through a soldier's last day alive. | The shit and water mixed in his trousers as he sat under the openly flowing well pump; a cigarette burned idly between his fingers as his brain struggled to rationalize the events of the day. Mort was only two weeks into his first combat deployment, yet he had already seen the limits of human endurance contrasted against the fragility of life. The knowledge seared into his brain for all time.
Day 3 of Operation King Pin April 05, unshaven and able to smell his own odor, Mort stood in the hole created in somebody’s home via C4 explosives the day prior, his ten man squad staged to push out on a reconnaissance patrol further into the rural town. It was 0500 and the marines had managed to get about five hours of sleep sense the operation began. The walk was only made longer by the rising sun, continually pushing the temperature up, to finally plateau at a hellish 130 degrees. At about 1100 the squad reached their turn around point and took a knee to observe the surroundings.
Mort looked out over the beautiful sight before him; the sky encompassed a vast landscape, which stretched forth to a professedly unreachable horizon that the marines strove endlessly to find. The seemingly infinite fields of blooming poppy reminded him of The Wizard of Oz, although unlike Dorothy he didn't wish to be home. The only violence to be experienced in this place was caused by the compounding discomforts of tremendous weight, scorching heat, and a nasty stomach virus that had some of the marines expelling bile from both ends, bringing them dangerously close to casualty by heat.
A pot shot rang out from a distant tree line; the round tracing a wide right parallel to the column of marines. In an instant Mort and the rest of the squad were in the prone position scanning their sectors of fire as if it were instinct. Just as much instinct were the orders that immediately poured forth with vigor from the veteran squad leader Sargent Mendoza. "Mort get your fucking 240 up to the front and scan that tree line! When Mort is set the rest of us will move behind the berm to our 10 o'clock."
Immediately Lance Corporal Mort began the 150 meter sprint to the front of the column, looking intently as he ran for some micro terrain to provide him with a good fighting position. As Mort neared the point man, the approaching trees erupted with the thunder of machine gun fire. The incoming rounds snapped into the dirt before him, appearing in the ground as rain does on a pond. As he traversed the timber line with vicious bursts from his M240B mort could only hear the rhythm of the machine-gun's bolt, as his squad ran to their prescribed fighting position.
Upon the provision of his squad's suppression Mort ran to join them on the small dirt berm. The world went altogether quiet. Mort only saw dirt before him as he tried to wipe the sweat and grime from his eyes below his sunglasses. A sharp tone came suddenly to his ears. Then as if he were hearing for the first time, the audio of the chaos registered in Mort's brain. He could hear his friend's desperate cry for a corpsman, and his sergeant yelling "God dammit Mort, fucking establish fucking fire superiority. Where the fuck is my 240?"
Six hours later the squad made the hump back to the patrol base they had left from, nearly out of ammo and completely devoid of thought the men walked behind the tanks as if they were dead. The world around Mort no longer registered in his mind, shapes did not constitute objects and colors went unnoticed as if he were in a dream. No inner dialogue played in his mind, although he giggled every now and again, but he couldn't contemplate the why behind the laughter.
As Mort walked through the breached wall of the patrol base he was grasped tightly in a hug from his First Sargent. "Mort, I love you buddy. If you ever need to talk I'm always here." The First Sargent sat him down under a well pump, the cool water felt familiar and comforting. As he sat down beside Mort he lit two American cigarettes and handed one over to Mort. "Are Fergie and Alex okay?" Mort asked looking off into the distance. The First Sargent shook his head ever so slightly. "Mendoza and Ferguson will live on forever Lance Corporal." | Tired. Very tired. No one talks about how tired it feels. The stench of death decay can surround a person, the gruesome aftermath of a horrific battle, the psychological torment that wroughts a man's psyche.
And all he wanted to do was sleep. He wanted to collapse and fall down and join the bodies strewn about him. Friend or foe matters not, for all men are equal in death. The bitter, gray dawn demarking the end of seemingly eternal night. If there were colors in the sky, he doubted he could see them.
He grasped vacantly at anything for support before slumping to his knees. The soft squelch of dirt greeted his hearing. A muddy mixture of countless imprints crossing one another chaotically. The bodies surrounded him. Death surrounded him. The impending darkness of finality was finally closing in, after so long he had evaded it, but its icy grip had finally caught up to him.
He wanted to fight for his friends. He wanted to fight for his family. He wanted to fight for his country. But that was so long ago. He glanced skywards one last time. A muddied hill formed at the edge of his vision. Rising out of the ashes of this forsaken battlefield was the flag of the victor. The flag of his country.
The flag stood high and proud on the hill. The sun rose gently behind it, ita beauty casting color and irridescent to his once bleak vision. He felt a swell of pride. He felt comfort. And he felt the end drawing near.
The flag faded into beautiful, indescrible colors. Life had meaning. It was worth fighting for. His vision faded abruptly into white.
...
He's been sitting still for way too long. Is he okay? Maybe someone should do something. The balding man walked up to the homeless man, carefully stepping around the vagrant. He was hesitant to show his concern, but he wasn't that bad of a person to just ignore him.
The man had stumbled drunkenly into the middle of the street, fell to his knees as if praying momentarily before falling to the ground. He ran a hand over his bald head sheepishly before pulling out a napkin and carefully prodding the dirty man.
He turned him over and saw a unkempt and dirty face with long hair and graying beard. His military jacket looks like it had been worn for at least a decade and never been taken off. He smelled like he didn't know what a shower was and that sobriety was an unfortunate consequence of not drinking enough. A vacant, almost blissful smile adorned this man, his yellowed, chipped teeth showing shamelessly. This man was dead.
The bald man sighed, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed out. "Yeah, I'm going to be late for work." | |
[WP] Walk me through a soldier's last day alive. | The shit and water mixed in his trousers as he sat under the openly flowing well pump; a cigarette burned idly between his fingers as his brain struggled to rationalize the events of the day. Mort was only two weeks into his first combat deployment, yet he had already seen the limits of human endurance contrasted against the fragility of life. The knowledge seared into his brain for all time.
Day 3 of Operation King Pin April 05, unshaven and able to smell his own odor, Mort stood in the hole created in somebody’s home via C4 explosives the day prior, his ten man squad staged to push out on a reconnaissance patrol further into the rural town. It was 0500 and the marines had managed to get about five hours of sleep sense the operation began. The walk was only made longer by the rising sun, continually pushing the temperature up, to finally plateau at a hellish 130 degrees. At about 1100 the squad reached their turn around point and took a knee to observe the surroundings.
Mort looked out over the beautiful sight before him; the sky encompassed a vast landscape, which stretched forth to a professedly unreachable horizon that the marines strove endlessly to find. The seemingly infinite fields of blooming poppy reminded him of The Wizard of Oz, although unlike Dorothy he didn't wish to be home. The only violence to be experienced in this place was caused by the compounding discomforts of tremendous weight, scorching heat, and a nasty stomach virus that had some of the marines expelling bile from both ends, bringing them dangerously close to casualty by heat.
A pot shot rang out from a distant tree line; the round tracing a wide right parallel to the column of marines. In an instant Mort and the rest of the squad were in the prone position scanning their sectors of fire as if it were instinct. Just as much instinct were the orders that immediately poured forth with vigor from the veteran squad leader Sargent Mendoza. "Mort get your fucking 240 up to the front and scan that tree line! When Mort is set the rest of us will move behind the berm to our 10 o'clock."
Immediately Lance Corporal Mort began the 150 meter sprint to the front of the column, looking intently as he ran for some micro terrain to provide him with a good fighting position. As Mort neared the point man, the approaching trees erupted with the thunder of machine gun fire. The incoming rounds snapped into the dirt before him, appearing in the ground as rain does on a pond. As he traversed the timber line with vicious bursts from his M240B mort could only hear the rhythm of the machine-gun's bolt, as his squad ran to their prescribed fighting position.
Upon the provision of his squad's suppression Mort ran to join them on the small dirt berm. The world went altogether quiet. Mort only saw dirt before him as he tried to wipe the sweat and grime from his eyes below his sunglasses. A sharp tone came suddenly to his ears. Then as if he were hearing for the first time, the audio of the chaos registered in Mort's brain. He could hear his friend's desperate cry for a corpsman, and his sergeant yelling "God dammit Mort, fucking establish fucking fire superiority. Where the fuck is my 240?"
Six hours later the squad made the hump back to the patrol base they had left from, nearly out of ammo and completely devoid of thought the men walked behind the tanks as if they were dead. The world around Mort no longer registered in his mind, shapes did not constitute objects and colors went unnoticed as if he were in a dream. No inner dialogue played in his mind, although he giggled every now and again, but he couldn't contemplate the why behind the laughter.
As Mort walked through the breached wall of the patrol base he was grasped tightly in a hug from his First Sargent. "Mort, I love you buddy. If you ever need to talk I'm always here." The First Sargent sat him down under a well pump, the cool water felt familiar and comforting. As he sat down beside Mort he lit two American cigarettes and handed one over to Mort. "Are Fergie and Alex okay?" Mort asked looking off into the distance. The First Sargent shook his head ever so slightly. "Mendoza and Ferguson will live on forever Lance Corporal." | As he left the helicopter and stepped onto the muddy ground, he couldn't help but feel all alone. He didn't want to be here. He had thought that his numbers wouldn't be called. While he'd worried about it ever since graduation day, he thought he'd be safe. But he wasn't, and now here he was in some foreign country, fighting a war he didn't even know why he or any other American was involved in.
Soon his platoon began to march across the swamps and rice paddies towards the village where a group of VC's were hiding. This was just a quick search and destroy mission that their CO had said would be done before lunch time. Of course he didn't believe it and neither did any of his fellow men except Crazy Jerry, a buck-toothed psychopath who probably would have been a serial killer had he not joined the Army.
"I'll shoot more of them than all of you combined. Those chinks will never know what's coming."
"Chinks?" he said, pondering Crazy Jerry's intelligence. Just then a few shots were fired. They all got down and soon there was a full blown attack. The young man didn't know what to do other than just stay on the ground and hopefully not be shot. He did not want to die in some rice paddy in Vietnam.
All of a sudden the shots stopped. Miraculously no one was dead but there were two guys wounded. The Sergeant in the group called for a helicopter to come out, and in a few minutes one did but it was then hit by an RPG. As he looked up he then felt a searing pain in his right leg. Soon a few more things hit the leg and he fell.
"Grandpa!"
"Who's grandpa!"
Just then he woke up.
"Grandpa, come and watch me!" Said a little girl in a bright blue swimsuit. It was summer and he was not in south Vietnam but in a quiet suburban neighborhood somewhere in the heartland.
"Grandpa!"
Just then he got up from his chair. He still moved a little rough on his metal leg, even though he had used a prosthesis for nearly 40 years.
"I'm sorry hun, but I have to go inside to talk to grandma. I'll watch swim later."
He then walked inside his house. The house still looked like something out late 70's, but certainly wasn't a dump. He went to go sit in his easy chair and watch some TV. He was hoping that his wife was making dinner but she was in the laundry room, finishing up the day's load.
The man turned on the TV. There wasn't anything on that was too interesting, but he kept it on some movie channel showing some old black and white film he hadn't seen in years. He then fell asleep. | |
[WP] Your home is two stories. Over time you notice a dark stain growing on the downstairs ceiling and call in help. What was found in the space between floors? | I noticed it while cleaning the living room. A small black stain about the size of a tennis ball, jagged at the border. It's no coincidence the bathroom is a floor up. I'll have to check it tomorrow for any leaks.
________________________________________________________________
Found the leak at the corner of the bathtub. I glued it up with some epoxy and let it cure and, viola! No leak. That should prevent the stain from getting any bigger.
________________________________________________________________
It'd been a few days since I fixed the leak until I noticed the stain again. I thought the job was over. It was a little larger. Shit, there must be a burst pipe somewhere in the ceiling. It'd have to hold off for about a week until I can put the time into fixing it. It'll have to wait.
________________________________________________________________
I tore up the tiles today and looked at the pipes. There wasn't any moisture on the timbers below the pipes and there were no signs of the stain on this side. It grew again. It's roughly the size of a basketball now, with black tendrils creeping further across the ceiling. I grabbed a ladder and took a closer look. The *mold*, as I'll be calling it now since there's a black fuzzy grass-like growth on the ebony patch, is black as night with purple specks. I'll look this up on the internet and see if I find anything, otherwise I'll have to tear it out of the ceiling.
________________________________________________________________
What in the world. It's been a few since I checked for any burst pipes and there's some kind of slender coal-black *reed* growing out of it. My search couldn't find anything. I was becoming really worried, the air in the living room was musky and it looked as if there were black spores in the air, barely perceptible to the eye. This thing has to go.
________________________________________________________________
I cut off the...*reed* with a pair of scissors. Carefully, I held it tight and disposed of it in the trash. The mold spread out some further and cutting it out will take some work. Good thing I have the whole day off.
Yeuch! I got some of it into my mouth. There was a slight drip from the base of where I cut off the reed and one drop landed on my cheek. It tasted metallic and caused my tongue to recoil. Disgusting. I washed my face.
________________________________________________________________
My muscles ached in the morning. Yesterday's labor left me exhausted, I'd removed the area where the mold spread and my living room ceiling had a very apparent gap in it.
I walked into the bathroom to start my morning routine when I was startled by what I saw in the mirror. My eyes. Their color was as sharp as black obsidian. My heart raced. What had happened, did the mold spread, was I infected? Immediately I thought of seeing a doctor.
And then I noticed something peculiar. While my mind panicked at the thoughts of some virulent mold my face had kept a calm composure. I tried to frown at my disposition. The muscles wouldn't move. I reached for my face to see if it had been numb, but my arm wouldn't budge. I screamed internally.
I was no longer in control of my body. | A few days ago, we noticed it. It was a Thursday evening, a typically cool Autumn night.
“Seth?”
“Hm?”
“There’s a stain.”
“Oh?” I wandered over to where she was standing, a small frown on her face. It was dark, tinting the surface like some thick dust had settled over that small patch of ceiling. Round, about the size of a golf ball.
"Water damage?"
"Doubt it. Looks darker than that. And there aren't any pipes up there anyway. So unless you spilled a LOT of coffee, there wouldn't be any water there." We were standing in the living room, underneath her study.
"Hm."
I got a chair from the kitchen, stood on it, and tried to wipe the area with some 409 and a paper towel.
"It's not really doing anything," I told Jess as she watched.
"I heard a story once about a woman who tried to clean a strange black stain from her wall. She was at it for hours, scrubbing and scrubbing until her trash can was filled with blackened paper towels and rags."
"Wait, really?"
"No," she laughed, "now get down from there, we'll figure it out later."
And that was it for a few days.
 
Sunday morning, we were eating breakfast.
"Jess?" I called from the living room.
"Mhm?"
"Check out the stain."
She walked from the kitchen, munching on a bowl of cereal.
"Oh." The munching stopped.
The stain was about the size of a dinner plate. Uniformly dark. And dark was the only word for it. Even with how well-lit the room was, it was like there was some unseeable object casting a shadow there. Hindsight tells me I wasn't so far off.
"Let's call someone, maybe Pat?"
"Yeah, okay, I'll call him." So I did. Pat lived in the neighborhood, a friend of ours. Neither Jess nor I knew much at all about troubleshooting a house. Pat worked as a carpenter, and was always doing this or that inside his home; removing carpet, adding tile, renovating, you know.
He came over about an hour later.
"Um," He stated, with much conviction. "Huh. Well."
I joined Pat and Jess in the living room. I couldn't be certain, but I was pretty sure the patch was actually a little bit larger than before.
"Do you think it's water damage?" I asked.
"No, I'm fairly certain it isn't."
"We tried to clean it a few days ago. We were at it for hours, scrubbing and scrubbing until our trash can was filled with blackened paper towels and rags."
I nodded very gravely, eyes wide open. Pat's face was a mess of confusion and I couldn't help but enjoy it. The little things. Finally he could see we were messing with him and he gave me a punch in the arm.
"Seriously though," Pat started, "I think you guys should get some expert in here to take a close look at this. I haven't seen something like this before, but I've heard terrible stories about radiation or bacteria that go unnoticed and get out of control. If this has grown so much in just a few days, I think you guys should get a professional in here ASAP."
Jess and I looked at eachother. Damn. We were hoping this could be a simple fix. Identified, solved, done.
 
After Pat left, Jess and I did some searching and made some calls. A government health inspector would come around tomorrow morning, it sounded like this sort of request wasn't very uncommon, so that put us at ease. He would bring a kit that would help him identify the presence of radiation, dangerous bacteria, and other types of malignant entities that shouldn't be in your house.
Feeling a little lighter, but not totally unconcerned, Jess and I went about our daily activities and avoided the living room as best we could. Raking leaves, buying groceries, that sort of thing. Around early evening, we hesitantly walked under the doorway of the room to check on the stain.
I gasped, Jess gasped, we jumped back a little bit, inched forward a little bit, then planted ourselves firmly at the threshold to the room. The mark was larger. Much larger. Roughly circular, maybe four feet in diameter. And it was darker. Remember what I said before about it looking like a shadow? Now, it looked as if I was staring into a dark cellar. So unnaturally dark. And where the the inky blotch met the the white of the ceiling, it was like night and day. A firm line separated the natural from the unnatural. The boundary was clear. We stood in stunned silence, watching it for many minutes. If you paid attention to the edges, you could see the black mark swelling ever slowly. Like a storm cloud across the horizon, or a tide continuously rising.
Finally, Jess broke the silence with a whisper.
"Fuck."
"Yeah."
We slowly stepped away from the doorway, filled with an unhealthy mixture of fascination and horror. We called the inspector with the number we'd been given. He said he could make it out tonight due to the urgency of the situation. He didn't seem to mind, I think they'd pay him overtime. He said he'd be there for eight, which gave us a couple hours to kill. We drove around town, went out for ice cream (because we both agreed the other one needed some comfort food), and just talked while trying to keep our mind off of the issue.
 
We got back to the house at 7:45 and stayed in the car. The inspector pulled in just a couple minutes after us.
We hopped out of the car, I shook his hand, "I'm Seth, this is Jess."
"Inspector Owens," he said in reply.
"Thanks so much for coming out here so urgently. We're sort of scared shitless over here."
He gave a smile, "I'll help make sure we get everything under control."
He pulled out some type of toolbox from his car, it was dark so I couldn't make it out. We led him towards the front door. I opened it and stepped inside. I flicked the switch, but the lights didn't turn on.
"Well, that's not good."
"I've got flashlights." Owens opened up his box on the stoop and pulled out a flashlight for each of us. Long, solid, heavy things. We each turned ours on and stepped into the house. I led him to the living room and motioned for him to take a look. The moment he pointed his flashlight inside, Jess screamed. It *echoed*. I stared, mouth open, into what had been our living room.
The beam of the flashlight could be seen for hundreds of yards. The noise of the scream echoed back to us over and over, making sure our horror was repeatedly refreshed, like a waitress that fills up your glass after every sip of water. The ground was level in front of us, as indicated by the flashlight. But we could see no walls, no ceiling, no detail. We each flashed our lights into the abyss.
And then, something intersected our beams of light. Something massive, indescribably so. All at once it appeared, maybe fifty yards in front of us and wherever we moved our flashlights we discovered new details to its slimy, hulking mass. Tentacles and mouths and eyes with astonishing variations in sizes. Even with a hundred flashlights we would be no closer to comprehending the monster--so massive and foreign, abnormal and perverse.
 
I fell to the ground and wept.
| |
[WP] The moon landing wasn't faked. In fact, the landing was a great success. What we faked was the return. | (NOTE: Kind of long... sorry about it... )
"What do you mean, 'No'?" Neil murmured.
"What was that, Neil?" Buzz asked. He was watching the earth from just outside our lunar module.
"Turn off your mic, Buzz."
"What's wrong?"
"Turn it off."
"Alright, fine, Neil." There was a click in Neil's ear, a moment of static, and then silence. Finally, another voice - a gruffer, unforgiving voice - resounded in Neil's helmet again.
"Armstrong," the voice began, "the answer is and has been: No, you're not coming back."
"Major, with all due respect, this is asinine. What do you mean we're not coming back?"
"That's classified, Armstrong. It's out of my hands."
"That's garbage, sir!"
"Armstrong, keep your cool."
"I respect you, sir, but this is not a time for me to remain calm. You're leaving us to die out here!"
"Neil, I'm sorry. We're sorry. The President has already been made aware of this decision."
"The... the President? He's abandoning us?"
"I'm so sorry, Neil."
"Why? Why are you doing this? What can't we come back to our homes, our families, Major, our families? Why?"
"That's classi-"
"Cut the classified crap, sir. Tell me the truth!"
There was a pause in the conversation. Neil could hear his CO breathing. He could almost see the major's pained breaths. He could only imagine the rapid beating of his heart.
"Fine, Armstrong, fine. The moon is inhabited by parasitic life form that has binds to the surfaces around you."
"What do you mean?"
"This life form is the tiniest of microscopic organisms. We discovered this organism a few weeks before the launch when studying readings from one of our satellites. We delved deeper into its inner workings, and realized that the parasite, if brought back to earth, could destroy the human race in a matter of days."
Something caught in Neil's throat. His heart skipped a few beats. His breaths became shorter and shorter. He spoke in a hoarse tone: "This is a bunch of nonsense, Major! Why send us up in the first place then, if you all knew that we would never come back? How could you do a thing like that?"
"The people needed something to pride themselves on. The Russians had bested us once before, and in order to keep national morale high, we needed a success. You and your team, Neil, were that success."
"We aren't a success worthy of being brought home, though? We're just your scapegoat!"
"It was never our intention to use you three as our scapegoats."
"But that's what you've made us! And now we'll die out here not as heroes, but as scapegoats! You're all liars!"
"You are heroes, though, Neil! The American people cannot stop going on and on about how you three are American heroes for them. This moment - your moment, Neil - will live on for all eternity!"
"Even though this is all just a sham?"
"Well, the people don't need to know that."
Neil couldn't think anymore. He couldn't breathe, save for a few short breaths here and there. "What's going on?" he muttered, now pacing. His boots kicked up sad spurts of gray dust with every burdened step. He turned towards the lander and saw Buzz standing standing at the base of the module. Neil tapped the side of his helmet with his right finger, indicating to Buzz to turn his communications display back on.
Buzz gave a thumbs up, and tapped his own helmet. A moment later, Buzz's fresh, unassuming voice filled Neil's helmet. "What's going on, Neil?" Hearing Buzz's voice made the gravity of the situation hit Neil much harder than he was expecting, and hot tears began to form under his eyes.
"Buzz," Neil said, his voice stuttering, "we're not going home."
There was a pause, and then, "What?"
"I'm sorry, Ed. Major's orders."
Buzz turned towards earth, back to Buzz, and then to earth again. He didn't say anything, but just stared at the giant blue and green orb that seemed so close to them that they could jump off of the surface of the moon and land on earth's. But they knew that it could only be done in dreams. Buzz finally turned back to the lander and began to climb the ladder to get back into the capsule. As jovial as Buzz usually was, Neil knew full-well that Buzz understood there was no hope.
He looked above the lunar module and saw the Command craft passing by in an orbit around the moon. Then, an idea: "Wait, Major, what about Collins?"
"What about him?" the Major asked; it almost seemed as if he had been waiting for this question.
"He's clean, sir! He never left the Command module. He's still in orbit around the moon. Please, for God's sake, if at least one of us can come home, let it be him. He is safe, Major. Please!"
"Neil, we can't have just one of you coming home. It would cause suspicion that we can't afford at these early stages of this space race. I'm sorry, but none of you are coming home."
"That's just crazy, sir! How are you going to stop him from coming home?"
"We were prepared for this, Neil. I'm sorry we have to do this."
"Do what exactly?"
There was a flash of light above him, and what had been the Command module flying along was now empty space. Spacecraft parts flew in every direction, some pelting the surface of the moon as fast as speeding bullets. Debris crashed around Neil, but he was too transfixed on the sudden absence of the Command module, and Collins, to care.
"*Michael*!!!"
"I'm sorry you had to witness that, Neil. It-"
"Neil," Buzz exclaimed through his mic, "did you see that? What happened to Mike?"
"NASA blew him up..."
"*WHAT*?!"
In an ominous tone unlike his otherwise monotone speech, the Major said, "Bid farewell to Collins, Neil."
"No, you can't-"
Another flash of light burst suddenly, just 100 yards in front of Neil. The lunar module was disintegrated in a single moment.
"You monsters! I hope you rot in hell for what you all have done!"
"We know we will, but only if it means to preserve the peace for the American people. Goodbye, Neil. Godspeed."
"Don't let me go!"
It was useless; only static replied to him. He was the only one left. | "One small step for man. One giant leap for mankind.''And these were the last word Armstrong mumbled before we cut off all communications. We failed as a country to gather the funds for this project and to return those brave men that ventured into the unknown. They risked it. They took that step for man and that leap for humanity. But we couldn't catch them when they slipped off the step.
President Nixon walks off stage after addressing the public about the failed mission. He steps into an off room of the white and stare deep into the mirror, wondering where did he go wrong. How could he let this happen to those great men. He asked himself "when does a man become a monster.'' Live feed was going from the press still and he heard the rioters in the street. "Remove Nixon!'' They shouted.
Years passed and people have yet to forger what happened on that day. Its possible the Apollo team survived for a couple of more days afterwards but we will never know the truth. They say if you look at the moon you can still see Buzz floating around. | |
I noticed that there are not much opportunities for world building authors here, and I'd love to see what kind of worlds are out there. | [WP] Magically we are transported into a world you've been building. Give me a tour. | **The Interview**
"Alright, let's go." said the mustached man with a British accent, putting on his hat and clutching his notepad.
"It's through here."
Nervously I opened the door in the attic wall. A breath of wind came through and we entered.
"Hm." He grunted.
We were in the middle of a prairie. The sun shone and the prairie stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. I whistled softly and a cloud floated down to us. The man scribbled something on his pad before climbing in behind me.
I explained :
"The idea was that large expanses are more relaxing, so this is how you enter."
"What if there's a storm ?"
I hadn't tried it yet. In my mind's eye I saw winds blowing, darkness and thunder. Immediately, our little cloud was surrounded by large, angry siblings. The air grew cold and rain poured down. Thunder groaned and a streak of lightning went by us.
And in instant it was gone. I turned to the man. Now soaked, he was scribbling some more on his notepad. I chuckled nervously.
Our little cloud flew, fast and faster, accross the prairie. In the distance, a glittering shape was barely visible and we rushed towards it with all the haste of a thousand winds.
"What is that ?" He inquired, noticing the structure. It was a city, a mass of tall towers, arachnean bridges arching through them.
"This is Swynion. It's the main city. This is where the magic happens." I smiled at my own joke, hoping he would get it. He scribbled on, unconcerned.
"How do you write that ?"
I spelled it out for him as we approached the gleaming city. Hitching a pair of spectacles up on his nose, he bent forward.
"What's it made of ?"
"It's made of glass blown by wizards in the mountains of Leyad. They infuse the sand with spells and blow out regularly sized panes that are put into place and then raised higher with more spells. Each of the towers is raised from a single pane of glass. The Palace was built first," I went on, indicating the tallest tower of all, which rose so high it caressed the fluffy underside of a cloud, "and the city itself grew somewhat organically. Cheerful chaos, as it were."
The man stuck his tongue out and scribbled some more.
"Now, tell me. Who lives here ?"
"The Palace is home to the princes of Euraith, a family descended from the very first hero this world knew, a man called Aur. He killed the monster who lived here long ago and made this world sad and gloomy."
"What kind of monster was it ?"
"A giant octopus named Iselder, made of doubts and regrets. Aur slayed him using the Sword of the Morning, which is still visible here."
As if it were reading my thoughts, our little cloud sped towards the palace. On top of the tower, the huge sword stood on its hilt in perfect balance.
"It's now a lightning rod," I explained, "When there's a storm, it calls lightning to itself and transmits the power to a battery in the bowels of the Palace. It's the main power-source for the whole city."
"Interesting," muttered the man for the first time.
"The rest of the city is home to many different people. There are Halflings and Elves, and the people of Dwr over there," I pointed to a group of buildings standing on the side of a great lake. The cloud floated down, affording us a view of blue humanoids going about their day.
"Over here," I pointed again, and in a breath of air the cloud brought us closer, "is the University. Experts in every subject come here to learn more or to pass on their knowledge. The biggest library in the Kingdom is right there, in that mushroom-shaped tower."
Peering through his monocle, the little man exclaimed. "Is that an Orang-Utan ?"
"Yes," I smiled, "they're the best librarians."
"Ah, yes. Of course. Now what's this lake ?"
"These are the waters of Gwirion. They are so deep that nobody has ever reached the bottom, although the people of Dwr have tried. It's where thoughts are born," I added, after a short pause.
He nodded and started scribbling again. The sun had begun its descent over the deep blue lake, casting a warm hue over the world. The towers of the city caught and reflected it like a gigantic kaleidoscope.
"Very nice chromatic abilities," I caught him mumbling to himself.
Slowly the cloud floated farther from the city on a gentle breeze. We were heading for the mountains.
"These are the mountains of.." he paused, looked at his notepad, "Leyad ?"
"Yes. They are very old. They were already old when the Octopus came, and his reign lasted for longer than anyone can remember."
I sighed softly. Iselder had been very hard to kill.
Below us, the prairie rushed by and eventually, a little town appeared in the foothills.
"This is Time Immemorial."
He looked at me curiously. "What ?"
"It's the name of the town. Time Immemorial."
As we approached, little houses became visible in the sun's setting light. They had a medieval charm to them, as did the cobbled streets and the marketplace in the middle of which stood the statue of a bearded Halfling.
"That's Oed. He was also a hero, but far older than Aur. He lived before Iselder."
"What did he do ?"
"He was the First Settler. No one lived here before he did. He killed the Sgrechian.."
"I'm sorry ?'
"The Sgrechian. They are dark, wordless beings that go where nothing else does. He drove them out and settled the land, making it possible for other people to come."
We looked at the statue together. Suddenly, the little man seemed to notice that the shadows were very long indeed and that two small moons had appeared in the sky above the lowest peak.
"Alright, I think I have everything I need. May we go back ?" He asked politely and our cloud immediately sailed off, rushing towards the middle of the prairie where stood the stone arch. We climbed out and let the little cloud drift off.
"Nice touch." Smiled the man for the first time, examining the Arch.
"What ?"
"The Arch. Most people don't bother to make their doorway anymore interesting. They've built so much up ahead that they forget about the entrance." He bent down and looked at the prairie flowers. "May I ?"
I nodded, and he picked one, a little violet. Then he walked to the Arch, and went through.
I found him on the other side, gathering his coat and satchel. He shook my hand and said :
"Well, miss. I'm not allowed to tell you much, but I will say I was impressed and I think you have a good chance of getting that grant. I'm especially impressed," he held up the small purple flower, "that this manages to exist outside of your imagination. That's rare, and it's a gift. We will be in touch with you shortly."
And with a parting bow, he left the attic.
| "It's all so...grey..."
I look up from my notepad. "As far as the eye can see, yes. I haven't figured out anything better than 'Grey Plains.'"
He walks forward and plucks some of the long grass. "Is this edible?"
"Of course. Not by any sentient race, but species that live here subsist on this grass."
"Things can live here?"
"Life is everywhere! There's a whole ecosystem all around you, a whole food chain with prey and predators. Especially predstors. Now, let's move on."
We do not move, but the planet seems to turn beneath us with increasing speed. When it stops, we stand where the plains become mountains, before a great city.
"So tall...I can't see the top of a single building...now that I think about it, there's nothing on the ground, not even streets. Why?"
"Well, the plains aren't really suitable for their kind of life, and.neither are the mountains. So they built up, not out. There are bridges between buildings that act as streets."
"Their kind of....they aren't human?"
"Not at all. They're very different from you."
"So how am I supposed to lead them, to save them?"
"That is for me to know and for you to find out. After all, you're *my* main character." |
I noticed that there are not much opportunities for world building authors here, and I'd love to see what kind of worlds are out there. | [WP] Magically we are transported into a world you've been building. Give me a tour. | **The Interview**
"Alright, let's go." said the mustached man with a British accent, putting on his hat and clutching his notepad.
"It's through here."
Nervously I opened the door in the attic wall. A breath of wind came through and we entered.
"Hm." He grunted.
We were in the middle of a prairie. The sun shone and the prairie stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. I whistled softly and a cloud floated down to us. The man scribbled something on his pad before climbing in behind me.
I explained :
"The idea was that large expanses are more relaxing, so this is how you enter."
"What if there's a storm ?"
I hadn't tried it yet. In my mind's eye I saw winds blowing, darkness and thunder. Immediately, our little cloud was surrounded by large, angry siblings. The air grew cold and rain poured down. Thunder groaned and a streak of lightning went by us.
And in instant it was gone. I turned to the man. Now soaked, he was scribbling some more on his notepad. I chuckled nervously.
Our little cloud flew, fast and faster, accross the prairie. In the distance, a glittering shape was barely visible and we rushed towards it with all the haste of a thousand winds.
"What is that ?" He inquired, noticing the structure. It was a city, a mass of tall towers, arachnean bridges arching through them.
"This is Swynion. It's the main city. This is where the magic happens." I smiled at my own joke, hoping he would get it. He scribbled on, unconcerned.
"How do you write that ?"
I spelled it out for him as we approached the gleaming city. Hitching a pair of spectacles up on his nose, he bent forward.
"What's it made of ?"
"It's made of glass blown by wizards in the mountains of Leyad. They infuse the sand with spells and blow out regularly sized panes that are put into place and then raised higher with more spells. Each of the towers is raised from a single pane of glass. The Palace was built first," I went on, indicating the tallest tower of all, which rose so high it caressed the fluffy underside of a cloud, "and the city itself grew somewhat organically. Cheerful chaos, as it were."
The man stuck his tongue out and scribbled some more.
"Now, tell me. Who lives here ?"
"The Palace is home to the princes of Euraith, a family descended from the very first hero this world knew, a man called Aur. He killed the monster who lived here long ago and made this world sad and gloomy."
"What kind of monster was it ?"
"A giant octopus named Iselder, made of doubts and regrets. Aur slayed him using the Sword of the Morning, which is still visible here."
As if it were reading my thoughts, our little cloud sped towards the palace. On top of the tower, the huge sword stood on its hilt in perfect balance.
"It's now a lightning rod," I explained, "When there's a storm, it calls lightning to itself and transmits the power to a battery in the bowels of the Palace. It's the main power-source for the whole city."
"Interesting," muttered the man for the first time.
"The rest of the city is home to many different people. There are Halflings and Elves, and the people of Dwr over there," I pointed to a group of buildings standing on the side of a great lake. The cloud floated down, affording us a view of blue humanoids going about their day.
"Over here," I pointed again, and in a breath of air the cloud brought us closer, "is the University. Experts in every subject come here to learn more or to pass on their knowledge. The biggest library in the Kingdom is right there, in that mushroom-shaped tower."
Peering through his monocle, the little man exclaimed. "Is that an Orang-Utan ?"
"Yes," I smiled, "they're the best librarians."
"Ah, yes. Of course. Now what's this lake ?"
"These are the waters of Gwirion. They are so deep that nobody has ever reached the bottom, although the people of Dwr have tried. It's where thoughts are born," I added, after a short pause.
He nodded and started scribbling again. The sun had begun its descent over the deep blue lake, casting a warm hue over the world. The towers of the city caught and reflected it like a gigantic kaleidoscope.
"Very nice chromatic abilities," I caught him mumbling to himself.
Slowly the cloud floated farther from the city on a gentle breeze. We were heading for the mountains.
"These are the mountains of.." he paused, looked at his notepad, "Leyad ?"
"Yes. They are very old. They were already old when the Octopus came, and his reign lasted for longer than anyone can remember."
I sighed softly. Iselder had been very hard to kill.
Below us, the prairie rushed by and eventually, a little town appeared in the foothills.
"This is Time Immemorial."
He looked at me curiously. "What ?"
"It's the name of the town. Time Immemorial."
As we approached, little houses became visible in the sun's setting light. They had a medieval charm to them, as did the cobbled streets and the marketplace in the middle of which stood the statue of a bearded Halfling.
"That's Oed. He was also a hero, but far older than Aur. He lived before Iselder."
"What did he do ?"
"He was the First Settler. No one lived here before he did. He killed the Sgrechian.."
"I'm sorry ?'
"The Sgrechian. They are dark, wordless beings that go where nothing else does. He drove them out and settled the land, making it possible for other people to come."
We looked at the statue together. Suddenly, the little man seemed to notice that the shadows were very long indeed and that two small moons had appeared in the sky above the lowest peak.
"Alright, I think I have everything I need. May we go back ?" He asked politely and our cloud immediately sailed off, rushing towards the middle of the prairie where stood the stone arch. We climbed out and let the little cloud drift off.
"Nice touch." Smiled the man for the first time, examining the Arch.
"What ?"
"The Arch. Most people don't bother to make their doorway anymore interesting. They've built so much up ahead that they forget about the entrance." He bent down and looked at the prairie flowers. "May I ?"
I nodded, and he picked one, a little violet. Then he walked to the Arch, and went through.
I found him on the other side, gathering his coat and satchel. He shook my hand and said :
"Well, miss. I'm not allowed to tell you much, but I will say I was impressed and I think you have a good chance of getting that grant. I'm especially impressed," he held up the small purple flower, "that this manages to exist outside of your imagination. That's rare, and it's a gift. We will be in touch with you shortly."
And with a parting bow, he left the attic.
| Well, welcome to the Combine, part of a multiverse of many different kinds and orders of realities.
Yeah, I guess you can say that's something of a secret, I guess. Honestly, after two Intrusion Wars brought by another 'verse to this amalgamated 'verse, I don't see what's so big a secret about the fact that our Combine--our small pocket galaxy of worlds, full of magic and technology--is vulnerable to cracks and sieves compromising the universal barriers separating our 'verse from everyone else's verses.
Other 'verses tend to stick their noses in our business. I guess they're jealous that our God and Mortal planes, magic and mundanity, have melded into one: the Combine, where magic is in every cell, and newborns have to have magic muffles on their cribs, or else they might blow something up, born with magic as everyone in our 'verse is.
I guess we have systems of magic and such. If you can have a degree in English in your 'verse, then I suppose we can have a Bachelor's in Magic Arts, too. That seems fair. Doesn't mean you're special for being able to use magic, when everyone uses it, even just to heat up their coffee. You just got a degree in knowing what everyone already knows, so, congrats?
Anyways, the Combine is (currently) composed of five worlds: Ivhansa, a frigid place far from its sun; Fenora, a barren place lit by a weak sun and constant dark cloud cover; Reganus, a lively blue and green world analogous to your Earth; Arcinda, a gas giant with oxygen in its upper atmosphere, where creatures of flight have taken root; and Nexus, an artificial world, a Dyson sphere, powered by a sun, that's our central hub world, from which all points of the Combine are accessible by Weaveship travel.
The Weave is what lies between the worlds, full of Weave-living creatures called, naturally, Weavers. The Weavers and the Combine (the latter being planetary) haven't always gotten along. In fact, in the first Intrusion War, the Weavers aligned with the intruders, the universe known as Anarchy, and we had another in a long line of conflicts with the Weavers about using the Weave to get between our worlds.
We have guns. You're going to go, "What?" at that, but we have guns. I know that seems strange, but we also have magic. A lot of us can put out more power with our pinky fingers with magic than a gun could ever do, and magic barriers are a very real thing. They're fun things, guns, and some of them are magically wrought, which is also a fun idea, but we have magic, man. Do you know what kind of crazy stuff you can do with magic that guns and missiles can never hope to achieve?
Magic, man. Maaagic.
Anyways, we've been around for about nine-hundred years or so, ever since the Shattering--when the civilizations that were separated into God and Mortal planes clashed, and everything went to the void (that and 'Weave' are our word for bad things and places) from all the power unleashed: Mortal means and tech versus God magic and power.
Anyway, once everyone was basically dead, and this Big Bang analogue happened, this old ordered 'verse eventually coalesced together, God and Mortal planes merging completely into one whole, creating the Combine as we know it. Yes, that means we are all Gods, in a way, and our Gods are just more powerful avatars of our own worlds, so I can talk to the God of Fenora, if that dick isn't s--heeey, Vasillis!
"I *am* omnipresent on Nexus, as well, you fool. I heard that."
Heh heh heh...
Anyways, our Combine is part of your multiverse, as well, you there on Earth in your own closed 'verse. But, there's lots of little seams and cracks in every 'verse, and some are bigger and smaller than others. And the Combine has many large gaps, so, maybe, one day, you'll step through one of those alignments of our 'verse's large weaknesses and one of your 'verse's soft spots, and you'll end up in our Combine, as sometimes happens.
This gap's closing, though. So, maybe we'll see you soon! Strive well! |
I noticed that there are not much opportunities for world building authors here, and I'd love to see what kind of worlds are out there. | [WP] Magically we are transported into a world you've been building. Give me a tour. | "It's dark."
"Of course it's dark. Open your eyes!"
"... still dark."
"That's because there's no sun. But try looking upwards."
"Wow! So many stars!"
"Yeah, makes you think, uh?"
"It's like there are thousands... millions!"
"They were always there, you know. You just couldn't see them because of all the clouds, city lights..."
"Wait, don't you feel cold? I'm freezing out here!"
"Oh, maybe you forgot to turn on your suit's heater. Here, let me help."
"...and now that I'm thinking... why am I wearing this respirator?"
"Trust me, you don't want to try breathing this air. It'd freeze your lungs."
"But why is it so cold?"
"I told you. There's no sun."
"Do you mean it's nighttime?"
"No, I mean there's no sun. At all. Now it's always nighttime."
"How can that be possible? What happened to the sun?"
"The Sky Thieves stole it. But don't worry, that was a long time ago, I don't think they're still around."
"I see... so, is everyone dead?"
"Not at all! See that?"
"What?"
"Look there, right in front of you!"
"I don't see anything."
"Just follow my finger."
"I can't see your finger. Hell, I can't even see *my* own finger!"
"Hah! You're right. Just look straight ahead, and then a bit to the left. Just under the group of four stars. Yes, those ones, the ones that are forming kind of a twisted cross."
"Yes, I see the cross... what am I looking for?"
"Just where the horizon line would be... don't you see anything? Try squinting hard."
"Oh, yes! There's a light out there!"
"Told you!"
"What is it? It's like... is it flashing? Is it a star?"
"No. It's a flashlight!"
"You mean there are other people out here?! How so?"
"Most likely it's an scavenging expedition. They come to check these ruins from time to time, looking for whatever stuff they can find that's still useful."
"Are we on top of some ruins? A city?"
"Why don't you see by yourself? You should have a flare gun on that pocket... no, the one on your right leg. Yes. There it is! You just point it at the sky, and shoot... Oh, you also have to turn the safety switch off... no, let me help... there you go."
"Wow!"
"Cool, isn't it?"
"It's like... they are just these massive blocks of ice. One after another... and they go on and on..."
"They used to be buildings. Still are, I guess. In the inside."
"I like the way the flare light reflects off them."
"It's haunting, isn't it? I always feel like there are ghosts watching me from the frozen empty windows when I come here... stupid, I know, but..."
"Which city was this?"
"I don't know. Not yet. Those guys probably do, they use the stars to orient themselves. They're pretty good at it. But for me, it's hard to navigate on an endless ice surface, you know."
"You can't do that?"
"No, I'm sorry. I'm just the author, I don't live here."
"What about them? Do they live here in the ruins?"
"No. Nobody lives in the ruins... well... that's not entirely true I guess. Some people do, but you don't really want to run into *them.* In fact, I wouldn't really go as far as to call them *people,* either. But those guys in front look civilized, and they have light and electricity. They probably came from an Undergarden."
"An Undergarden? Is that what I think it is? That sounds cool!"
"They are! Some of them are truly huge. Their main caverns go miles deep underground, and that's not even counting the tunnels where people actually live. They have plants and trees and grass and farms, and there are also lakes and water streams. Some of them even have birds that fly around the caves!"
"Do they have light?"
"Of course! Light and heat. They built giant radiators to keep the caverns warm, but some of them don't even need them. You see, some of them have natural lava lakes! Can you imagine that?"
"Whoa! Do they get their energy from the Earth's core?"
"No. Well, they do get some from geothermal stations. But mostly it's all nuclear powered."
"So they still know how to build those!"
"Sure. These guys aren't idiots. The Sky Thieves took the sun away, not their brains! In fact, they even have Internet."
"So they can still talk to each other across the planet?"
"Well... no. It's not worldwide anymore. The big cables froze and broke long time ago. They talked about repairing them, but it's hard to do those things out here. So it's more like a bunch of small regional networks now. Besides, it's not like trade is what it used to be anyways."
"What do you mean?"
"Most Undergardens are self-sufficient. They must be, to survive. There are trade convoys from time to time, but you can't depend on them. Sometimes they get lost, or their vehicles break down and they freeze to death, or are attacked by... eh.... by *them.* So people have learnt to live on their own, and rely only on their closest ones."
"Like tribes?"
"Exactly. Or like city-states. Sometimes three or four of them work together, in some kind of loose confederation, but most Undergardens are fiercely independent."
"Do they ever fight each other?"
"Oh yes! They fight for resources, for access to the ruins, or just the usual political and religious bullshit. Some of those tribes are very weird, you see. Like the Sprova Undergarden, who thought if only they sacrificed enough children the sun would return. Eventually they managed to piss off their neighbors so much that three other cities joined together to attack them."
"And what happened?"
"They invaded and fought in the caves, most of the time in complete darkness. The Sprovans had retreated into their tunnels, building traps and planting bombs. And when the invaders followed them, the tunnels collapsed on their heads, trapping them all. The battle lasted for months, and in the end the Sprova Undergarden was no more, though some say there are still people living in those closed off tunnels..."
"Wow... that sounds awful. So people are still fighting each other... that's... not so different."
"I guess not. People are always people."
"So, about that internet you said they have... do they still have Reddit?" | "Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the first annual World Creation Contest. Each year four creations will selected from Microsoft's World Creation Simulator and the people will vote for one to be actually made into a world. For now we have small scale test worlds. My name is Franklin McKay and I will be your tour guide for my world.
Unlike my competitors who formulated entirely new physics systems, I borrowed most of my physics, plant life, and chemical elements from Earth. As a matter of fact, humans would be able to live here. The biggest difference is the size. The planet is only 50 square miles of temperate climate. The reason for this lies in the main idea of unity. How can a people group be united if they are so spread apart? They can't. We leaned that in the Great Fall of the Unites States in 2092.
The other difference is the lone inhabiting fauna species. They have the intelligence and body style of humans, but also have a fur coat for warmth and a tail appendage for added ease. It's a simple world that will hopefully be free from war and hate. Now if you will follow me, we will go back to the auditorium for you to vote and a winner to be announced."
---
The announcer spoke, "And now the winner of the World Creation Contest is: Super Kawaii J-Pop Anime World by Sakura Ikari!" The crowd cheers, but I am in shock. All that world is is a recolored Earth with new physics to model anime. NO EFFORT! She's not even Japanese! She's from California! |
[WP] There is a time traveler who visits every historical figure twice: on their 10th birthday and their deathbed. On the first visit, they will be told all the will accomplish in life. The second visit will tell how their legacy is remembered. | The man shook the tablets in his hand, contemplating if there was another way. He knew the war was over, the Russians were coming, and he would never retreat. The only option was the cyanide.
Suddenly an old man casually walked into the room. The defeated man raised his pistol, and stared.
"I wouldn't do that Adolf," the old man said.
"You're the reason," the man exhaled, "you told me I would rule the world, you said I would never be defeated. I was desperate. I had to rule to meet my destiny."
"Son, I only told you what you could be, not what you would be."
Adolf swallowed the tablets in his hand and shot the old man. But as he watched the old man walk away he felt the bullet pierce him. | I knew that history could be changed for the better. I've spent countless years studying the greatest and the worst minds of history. How Ive asked myself how do I cut a clear path for a better tomorrow? That was my goal. Oh Eliza...I couldn't save you but with my machine I could save the world. That led me to July 6, 1957 midland Texas. I came upon a modest yet affluent house and I could tell a birthday party was underway.
It was still early yet, there was a little boy playing in the front yard as I approached. I would recognize that face anywhere. A man who at one time in his life held the world in his hands and watched it burn. I had correctly assumed he was the lynch pin who caused our future to collapse. As I ventured forth down the long driveway up the cobblestone path I could hear him making various noises and sound effects with his trucks and trains on the wet Texas grass. He was wearing a cowboy hat...how appropriate.
Quite the juxtaposition for musings of a future that would never come to fruition. My shadow loomed over the green grass and soon over the boy as my feet made imprints in the soil underfoot.He looked up...those eyes...still beady and soulless as ever. I could see the future flash before them. I could see him stumbling his words in front of the nation. Giving the orders that would expend countless lives. I knelt down, my long over coat swathing the ground around me creating almost a halo effect around my body. I eased my weight onto my knees, well my left knee. My right one had been all but mangled during that trip to april 15th 1865. Its never a good idea to give chase to a gun man who's willing to take a flying leap off a balcony. It was a poorly executed plan where everything that could go wrong unfortunately ..did.
As I spoke to this ten year old boy I was surprised that the first thing he said to me was the proposition of a question. "Do you like trains?" He had the least bit of a texas accent a speech pattern I was all to familiar with. My mouth drier than all get out due to the extremities of my method of travel as of late I simply nodded in response. He then handed me a locomotive, a small one with tin wheels. No specific type just a run of the mill toy train.
He wanted me to play with him. I could see exuberance in his eyes and his appearance as a ten year old child in a time of innocence was frankly alarming. Disconcerting. Frankly a little alarming to say the least. Whether it was the time travel or the mood stabilizers used to suppress the effects I could see my time was growing short. The speech i had prepared which wasn't in the least hastily written felt moldy and wet in my jacket pocket. My fingers grasped the edges of the paper teetering on exactly what I do not know. I glanced up, the clouds now threatening to close in on this reunion of sorts.
There would be no rain this time. As I stuck the syringe into the little boys neck he made an inaudible surprised whimper a gasp...then nothingness....The future would not be held accountable for this mans actions. Someone once told me that above all else the mind and heart are the very last things to be bereft of innocence and the very first to be perverted by the inequities of evil. As my physical form faded into non-existence A rain cloud hovered over this modest Texas home. A cowboy hat and train lay peacefully next to a small still figure on the cool Texas grass. No, there would be no rain this time. No rain.
| |
[WP] There is a time traveler who visits every historical figure twice: on their 10th birthday and their deathbed. On the first visit, they will be told all the will accomplish in life. The second visit will tell how their legacy is remembered. | I'd watched him all day, out shopping with his mother and father in one of those sleepy little towns that seem fixed in history. Neat little colorful rows of 17th-century trading houses and customs houses, staffed by neat little customs officials counting and recounting. All that joyful bureaucracy. But today it was his birthday, and his parents were taking him out for a little trinket to celebrate -- with his two-year old little sister still in his mother's arms, the little goose nestled tightly.
What struck me -- always strikes me in this job -- is how ordinary it all was. Famous people are both exceptional and unexceptional at the same time. Like an uncanny valley, they resemble ordinary people far more than you want them to, with their normal pastimes and obsessions and foibles. But it never quite fits, it's never quite perfectly normal. They are always slightly exceptional -- some little trait too highly toned, some little attribute too carefully pressed. It's shocking to see that, and then to see that in all other respects they are just normal.
And he was no exception, chattering away about music and songs that he loved -- and even singing to himself or no one in particular. Such a joyous, outgoing child. He would have made a good priest. His brother's death in two short years would derail those plans, turning him sullen and fatalistic, transforming that confident, peaceful strength into something harder-edged. But for now he was young and the world was all openness and hope.
"Give me 12 years," I said to him when he was finally alone -- outside his house as his parents fiddled and bopped around inside. He had been digging in the dirts, lining up some grand fort of sticks and mud into which small rocks could invade. His head jerked up as I spoke.
"Who are you?" he asked. He was surprisingly assured for a child of ten, caught unaware by a strange man. He seemed unflappable, even now.
"I'm an angel, if you like. Or a traveler. Or a man." I replied. "I haven't come here to hurt you."
"What do you want? Why are you bothering me?" Already so willful, so abrupt -- such a funny child sometimes, but with such a sharpened edge.
"I have information for you. About who you will be, what you will do when you grow up."
"Yeah? Will I be a priest?"
"No, you will be a soldier, and you will fight bravely in a great war. When that war is over, you will help to rebuild your country. You'll build giant monuments and remake the face of your country, even the people themselves. People will remember your name forever. You will be more than famous -- you will be a symbol of a movement so profound it changes the way human beings relate to one another. You will fundamentally change the world."
"Why would I want to do that?" he grumbled, turning back to his fort.
"Because you think it's the right thing to do," I answered. "Because you love your country, and want it to be proud of you."
He huffed to himself. "I want to be a priest," he replied, "and sing everyday." I laughed out loud, unable to help myself. At bottom, people are who they are, even as children, and this stubborn streak that would be so important both to his success and to his downfall was as present now as it would ever be.
"You can be whatever you want to be," I said with a pat on the head. "But remember what I told you -- give me 12 years."
As I walked away, I felt strangely empty. I'd pushed hard to get this assignment, but it was strangely hard to walk away from such a young, talented child with so much possibility, so much drive and desire and hope. In a different universe... I shook my head and laughed those thoughts away -- perhaps he wouldn't have made a very good priest, any more than he would have made a good painter. Perhaps he had only one destiny.
"Give me 12 years," I said to him, no longer the child in Branau am Inn but a man battered and shaking, near death.
"What? Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?" he spat back at me, as dust from the walls mixed with the musty air, the bombs hammering again...hammering, hammering, hammering. There was no recognition in his eyes -- bloodshot, full of hatred, but still so sure of himself. It had been too long ago, too many lifetimes had passed since that day -- and, knowing him, I figured he simply hadn't paid it any mind in the first place.
I looked at him. Took it all in. This horrible, fetid place, still pretending at bureaucratic niceties, still yearning for the order of that customs house, but twisted, perverted, evil. But justified. That was what always killed me -- it was all internally justified. To him, to the customs officer's son, the child of idyllic fields and horrible mustard gas attacks, it was all proper, all understandable, all correct. It was worth it. And yet now he surely began to understand how the world would remember him. Now, as his lips dropped and he struggled even to move -- now, as his world caved in -- he must surely come to realize how it would all be seen, how it SHOULD all be seen.
"You at least remembered what I said, I hope?" I smiled at him, a mixture of victory and, perhaps, though it hardly seemed possible, pity. "All those years ago. I'd have thought you wouldn't have remembered me at all -- but do you remember that? What I told you?"
His eyes flashed a sudden recognition, and the energy seemed to pull out of his body, draining into the floor. The last reserves of stubbornness, of anger, of resolve. I knew he was finally, completely defeated. I knew that he finally understood, finally knew. That he was finally broken.
"Give me 12 years," he said, his voice weak and trembling, "and you won't recognize Germany." | I knew that history could be changed for the better. I've spent countless years studying the greatest and the worst minds of history. How Ive asked myself how do I cut a clear path for a better tomorrow? That was my goal. Oh Eliza...I couldn't save you but with my machine I could save the world. That led me to July 6, 1957 midland Texas. I came upon a modest yet affluent house and I could tell a birthday party was underway.
It was still early yet, there was a little boy playing in the front yard as I approached. I would recognize that face anywhere. A man who at one time in his life held the world in his hands and watched it burn. I had correctly assumed he was the lynch pin who caused our future to collapse. As I ventured forth down the long driveway up the cobblestone path I could hear him making various noises and sound effects with his trucks and trains on the wet Texas grass. He was wearing a cowboy hat...how appropriate.
Quite the juxtaposition for musings of a future that would never come to fruition. My shadow loomed over the green grass and soon over the boy as my feet made imprints in the soil underfoot.He looked up...those eyes...still beady and soulless as ever. I could see the future flash before them. I could see him stumbling his words in front of the nation. Giving the orders that would expend countless lives. I knelt down, my long over coat swathing the ground around me creating almost a halo effect around my body. I eased my weight onto my knees, well my left knee. My right one had been all but mangled during that trip to april 15th 1865. Its never a good idea to give chase to a gun man who's willing to take a flying leap off a balcony. It was a poorly executed plan where everything that could go wrong unfortunately ..did.
As I spoke to this ten year old boy I was surprised that the first thing he said to me was the proposition of a question. "Do you like trains?" He had the least bit of a texas accent a speech pattern I was all to familiar with. My mouth drier than all get out due to the extremities of my method of travel as of late I simply nodded in response. He then handed me a locomotive, a small one with tin wheels. No specific type just a run of the mill toy train.
He wanted me to play with him. I could see exuberance in his eyes and his appearance as a ten year old child in a time of innocence was frankly alarming. Disconcerting. Frankly a little alarming to say the least. Whether it was the time travel or the mood stabilizers used to suppress the effects I could see my time was growing short. The speech i had prepared which wasn't in the least hastily written felt moldy and wet in my jacket pocket. My fingers grasped the edges of the paper teetering on exactly what I do not know. I glanced up, the clouds now threatening to close in on this reunion of sorts.
There would be no rain this time. As I stuck the syringe into the little boys neck he made an inaudible surprised whimper a gasp...then nothingness....The future would not be held accountable for this mans actions. Someone once told me that above all else the mind and heart are the very last things to be bereft of innocence and the very first to be perverted by the inequities of evil. As my physical form faded into non-existence A rain cloud hovered over this modest Texas home. A cowboy hat and train lay peacefully next to a small still figure on the cool Texas grass. No, there would be no rain this time. No rain.
|
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