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[WP] You're the advisor to the Pharoahs who first convinced them that they should definitely build giant pyramids. | “Giant...triangles?”
“Th...that’s right, Pharaoh,” I said, a bit nervous. He wasn’t taking it as well as I’d hoped.
He tilted his head a bit quizzically, “Ambassador, you know I appreciate the insight you bring from you kingdom,” he paused and seemed to think intensely, “what did you say it was again?”
“Err...Europe,” I said, hoping I didn’t come off as suspicious. I really shouldn’t have slept through the briefing.
“Right,” The Pharaoh said, narrowing his eyes, “Europe...But what purpose, precisely, does this giant triangle serve?”
“It is of course,” I said loading as much pomp and ceremony into my voice as possible, “a long-lasting testament to your glory,and moreover, the height shall bring you closer to the heavens, and closer to the Gods!”
“I see,” he said, massaging his chin, “I certainly see the glory of it, the respect it would command. Though the afterlife part of it seems like fantasy to be frank. The heavens are thousands of miles up in the air, what does a few hundred feet bridge?”
Huh. I had no idea humans possessed this level of reasoning. Thinking fast I quickly laughed. “Of course, Pharaoh. You know that, I know that. But what of the fools who visit your Kingdom. Feed them false tales, and look how they pour in to say the stairways to heaven.” The Pharaoh suddenly grinned and I knew I had him. “And of course you-”
“Charge them a fee!” The Pharaoh finished emphatically. “My, my ambassador this is truly genius! Such an undertaking not only immortalizes my name but invigorates our economy!” The his smile quickly faded, “but the logistics of it, it is far too massive of an undertaking.”
I fought to keep a manic grin off my face. We had it! We could establish the telecommunication array here, and the humans would give us the land for free. “Not to worry, Pharaoh, us Europeans will provide the building blocks and the machines, you need only provide the labor.”
The Pharaoh’s eyes narrowed in suspicion once again. “Why this kindness, why give us this idea and provide us these blocks? What’s in it for you?”
Again, it seems we had grossly underestimated human intelligence.
“We of course will sell the blocks to you, Pharaoh, you did not actually believe we would give them for free?” It was a gamble, but I laughed.
A jumble of emotions flickered on his face, and for a moment I thought he would have me thrown out for daring to laugh at the Pharaoh. I sighed inwardly, there goes my promotion. But either I imagined it or he hid it, and the outrage faded, to be replaced with a smile, and my hearts started beating again. “Of course not, ambassador. That is perfectly reasonable. Just one question, what are these machines you speak of? How will we build the high points of the pyramid?
I suppose there was no way around it. This would likely be forgotten before any real recording of history began anyways. “Well we have these saucers that are capable of flight...”
***
If you enjoyed check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| Abu sir was a man of faith. He had blind faith in his ability to rise through cunning and sold his patriotism like a faith-healer sold Osiris; with complete devotion. His dedication to himself had seen him rise to become the pharaoh's military advisor. There he found favor, especially since the king was only 8 years old. Unlike other pharaoh's, Djoser was content with Abu sir's stories of war. The previous pharaoh frequently asked for live demonstrations.
Now they walked through the market place with the hot afternoon sun on their foreheads. Pharaoh Djoser had requested to see the town the way a commoner would, and so Abu sir and his delegation marched onward carrying Djoser shoulder high on his throne.
As they walked on the pharaoh spoke. "Abu Sir, what happened to Jalakani?"
"Oh he is around. In fact, his home is not far ahead."
"Take me to him," said Djoser.
the group made a turn, and were at the treasurer's home in a short time.
Abu Sir knocked on the door waiting for the man he considered part of the few rational ones in the kingdom.
Wanas opened the door, and smiles faded faster than a man who saw his mother in law in place of his wife.
"What are you doing here?" Abu Sir demanded of the philosopher.
"Oh, just taking care of a friend's home as he goes visiting. Your highness!" he said bowing down. "In need of some philosophizing today?"
"I am fine thank you." Djoser said shifting in his seat.
"Are you sure?"
"Certainly." Djoser had more than once listened to the wise sayings of the philosophers, some he considered very clever such as, "Great pharaohs began as great boys." However, on other occasions Djoser would mention things such as, "Most of the messes of history are because pharaohs cannot be satisfied with a nice chicken and a good loaf of bread."
Abu Sir had also heard some of his other proverbs such as "I never joined the army for patriotic reasons," and "force always attracts men of low morality." Thankfully they only had one philosopher, unlike the Greeks who seemed to have an epidemic. Even Anwas was from the Hitties. Philosophizing was not the Egyptian way.
"It's okay," the pharaoh said turning his delegation.
"As you go your highness, one saying. Free of charge."
"What is it?"
"Remember, whether you're a king or a slave we will all end in the same grave." Anwas then started to laugh.
The group marched on. Abu Sir got an idea. He approached the pharaoh. "You know your highness, we could show him that a pharaoh, and a slave do not go to the same grave."
Djoser turned to him, "What are you suggesting?"
"What if we build a monument, one that stretched to the sky. A resting place fit for a god."
"Go on."
"When you die your highness, all your servants follow you to tend to you in the after life, and even Anwas will see a Pharaoh does not die like a commoner."
"That sounds splendid, I can see it now, my cooks my guards..."
"Your guards would have to guard it your highness. Such a monument would only attract you know the kind...."
"But a philosopher, you'd definitely need one, to keep you sharp, wise sayings."
"I see, but surely such a monument would take a lot of resources. Where would I get such?"
"Well the Hitties have proved unable to rule themselves, why not let me convince them that working to build this is for their glory? I can get them to do it for free."
"Free?"
"Of course, for some reason, when people see my spear and my platoon they often give us things for free."
"Is this magic?"
"Military magic oh great one."
***
/r/pagefighter | |
[WP] You're the advisor to the Pharoahs who first convinced them that they should definitely build giant pyramids. | FADE IN:
INT. A PHARAOH'S THRONE ROOM - DAY
*A man in a tall headdress lounges on an enormous cushion. The is THE PHARAOH. He is surrounded by ATTENDANTS and GUARDS, many of whom look rather bored.*
**ARCHITECT:** (*O.S.*) Good morning, sir!
*Everyone turns to look as an overly cheerful man struts into the throne room. This is THE ARCHITECT. A guard steps forward to block his path.*
**GUARD:** Oi! What do you think you're doing?
**ARCHITECT:** I'm going to speak to the Pharaoh.
**GUARD:** You can't do that! "Speak to the Pharaoh?" He's a god, he is!
**ARCHITECT:** Ah. Yes. I see your point.
*The guard nods, satisfied, and goes back to his original position. When he turns around, he sees the architect kneeling next to a pillar.*
**GUARD:** ... Now what are you doing?
**ARCHITECT:** Praying, sir!
**GUARD:** "Praying?"
**ARCHITECT:** Well, as you rightly state, the Pharaoh is a god, so...
**GUARD:** (*Interrupting*) You can't pray in here! This is the Pharaoh's house!
**ARCHITECT:** Is that a problem, sir?
**GUARD:** Too right, it's a problem! Praying in the Pharaoh's house? You might bother him!
**PHARAOH:** Oh, just let the man through.
*The guard glares at the architect, but ushers him over to the Pharaoh.*
**ARCHITECT:** Thank you, sir.
**PHARAOH:** What do you want?
**ARCHITECT:** I'm afraid it's about the pyramids, sir.
**PHARAOH:** Stop that.
**ARCHITECT:** Stop what, sir?
**PHARAOH:** That! Stop that! You don't call pharaohs "sir."
**ARCHITECT:** Right you are, great one, he who is the living embodiment of Ra on Earth and...
**GUARD:** (*Interrupting*) Right, that does it. Come on, you.
*The guard grabs the architect by the arm and starts dragging him away.*
**ARCHITECT:** (*Urgently*) They're going to fall down!
*The guard stops moving. The Pharaoh stands up from his cushion.*
**PHARAOH:** "Fall down?" What, the pyramids?
**ARCHITECT:** Yes, sir.
**PHARAOH:** Pyramids can't "fall down." They're the most structurally stable shape in existence!
**ARCHITECT:** Not quite, sir.
**PHARAOH:** What are you talking about?
**ARCHITECT:** Speaking quite frankly, sir, a flat plane would be more stable.
*One of the attendants rolls her eyes.*
**ATTENDANT:** You haven't seen him knock plates over.
*The Pharaoh makes a motion with his hand. The guard walks toward the attendant, approaching with a menacing look on his face. Several seconds of tense silence pass.*
**GUARD:** Shut up.
**ATTENDANT:** Sorry.
**PHARAOH:** Right. Don't do it again.
**ARCHITECT:** We need to do something, sir!
*The Pharaoh rubs his forehead with an exasperated look on his face.*
**PHARAOH:** Look, what do you suggest we do? You're the one who sold us on these pyramids in the first place.
**ARCHITECT:** Convert them all to flat planes.
**PHARAOH:** You can't bury people in a flat plane.
**GUARD:** You could if you used the word "plane" in an anachronistic context.
*Every stares at the guard.*
**GUARD:** Sorry. This idiocy seems to be catching.
**PHARAOH:** You know what to do, guard.
*The guard nods, looking somber. He draws his sword and holds it in front of his face. His grip tightens on the hilt.*
**GUARD:** (*To his reflection*) Shut up.
*The Pharaoh nods, then turns his attention back to the architect.*
**PHARAOH:** Are there any other options?
**ARCHITECT:** Ah, I'm glad you asked, sir! We should build a giant sphinx.
**PHARAOH:** A what?
**ARCHITECT:** A sphinx, sir. It's like a large, cat-like creature with the face of a...
**PHARAOH:** (*Interrupting*) I know what a sphinx is! Why would we build one, though? Here you are, telling me that pyramids are too unstable, and now you want to build a giant cat?!
**ARCHITECT:** Yes, sir! It's the only viable option.
**PHARAOH:** How is *that* a viable option?! If the pyramids are doomed to "fall down," why would a *giant sphinx* be any different?!
**ARCHITECT:** Well, sir, it would still fall down, but it wouldn't matter.
**PHARAOH:** Why not?
**ARCHITECT:** Cats always land on their feet, sir.
*Nobody says anything for a moment.*
**GUARD:** Shut up.
FADE OUT. | “Listen, Pharaoh, friend,” the slimy advisor inexplicably wearing a suit and tie in ancient Egypt. “I know you want to create a giant water wheel in the Nile to grind grain, but you have to understand, circles and wheels are so 10,000 B.C.”
“B.C.?” the Pharaoh asked.
“Yeah before…never mind,” the advisor quickly adverted. “Listen, all the civilizations of the Mesopotamia already have wheels. The Sumerians just developed carts for crying out loud. As a world leader, you need to be one step ahead of the competition, not floundering behind and wasting resources on some project you don’t even know will work.”
“On the contrary,” the Pharaoh interrupted. “My top engineers in the court have promised great success. I know of their sincerity, because should they fail to produce a water wheel that grind grains, I shall castrate them and the throw them to the crocodiles. Your proposition, however, to stay ahead of those miserable Sumerians intrigues me. Continue.”
“Alright,” the advisor continued. “Circles were a great advancement for humanity, but the geometrically speaking, it’s out of vogue. I, however, know the next best thing: triangles.”
The Pharaoh raised his eyebrow to signal him to continue.
“That’s right,” the advisor began his pitch. “Triangles. These babies have three sides and three points.”
He arranged his hands roughly to form a triangle. The Pharaoh tried to mimic the motions, but struggled.
“What use are these triangles?” the Pharaoh asked.
“That’s thing. They can be used for damned near anything,” the advisor claimed. “They’re the strongest shape in nature, unlike that weak ass square. More importantly, though, the geometetry is fairly simple and straightforward in you know Pythagorean’s theorem.”
“Pythagorean?” the Pharaoh looked to his advisor.
“Never mind him,” the advisor quickly corrected himself. “Imagine this: A giant stone pyramid, that’s a bunch of triangles stacked together, reaching to the heavens themselves. They would stand the test of time and more importantly, they would be built in your glory.”
The Pharaoh’s face lit up for a second.
“Your name would stand forever in history with these pyramids,” the advisor continued like a cat ready to make its kill. “Imagine a final resting place, with your name and across the walls and your treasures buried with you, forever staying a monument that would amaze the world and attract men and women from all corners of the world. So long as these people flocked to your tomb and spoke your name on their tongues, you would never truly die.”
“Then let it be done,” the Pharaoh announced. “I know not what witchery you used to enter my court, but your words carry truth beyond truths. Glib, gather the country’s stone masons and begin ascertaining new sites for extracting stones from the earth.”
“Actually,” the advisor interrupted. “I happen to own a stone query to the south…”
*****
More Stories at r/Andrew__Wells
| |
[WP] You're the advisor to the Pharoahs who first convinced them that they should definitely build giant pyramids. | “Giant...triangles?”
“Th...that’s right, Pharaoh,” I said, a bit nervous. He wasn’t taking it as well as I’d hoped.
He tilted his head a bit quizzically, “Ambassador, you know I appreciate the insight you bring from you kingdom,” he paused and seemed to think intensely, “what did you say it was again?”
“Err...Europe,” I said, hoping I didn’t come off as suspicious. I really shouldn’t have slept through the briefing.
“Right,” The Pharaoh said, narrowing his eyes, “Europe...But what purpose, precisely, does this giant triangle serve?”
“It is of course,” I said loading as much pomp and ceremony into my voice as possible, “a long-lasting testament to your glory,and moreover, the height shall bring you closer to the heavens, and closer to the Gods!”
“I see,” he said, massaging his chin, “I certainly see the glory of it, the respect it would command. Though the afterlife part of it seems like fantasy to be frank. The heavens are thousands of miles up in the air, what does a few hundred feet bridge?”
Huh. I had no idea humans possessed this level of reasoning. Thinking fast I quickly laughed. “Of course, Pharaoh. You know that, I know that. But what of the fools who visit your Kingdom. Feed them false tales, and look how they pour in to say the stairways to heaven.” The Pharaoh suddenly grinned and I knew I had him. “And of course you-”
“Charge them a fee!” The Pharaoh finished emphatically. “My, my ambassador this is truly genius! Such an undertaking not only immortalizes my name but invigorates our economy!” The his smile quickly faded, “but the logistics of it, it is far too massive of an undertaking.”
I fought to keep a manic grin off my face. We had it! We could establish the telecommunication array here, and the humans would give us the land for free. “Not to worry, Pharaoh, us Europeans will provide the building blocks and the machines, you need only provide the labor.”
The Pharaoh’s eyes narrowed in suspicion once again. “Why this kindness, why give us this idea and provide us these blocks? What’s in it for you?”
Again, it seems we had grossly underestimated human intelligence.
“We of course will sell the blocks to you, Pharaoh, you did not actually believe we would give them for free?” It was a gamble, but I laughed.
A jumble of emotions flickered on his face, and for a moment I thought he would have me thrown out for daring to laugh at the Pharaoh. I sighed inwardly, there goes my promotion. But either I imagined it or he hid it, and the outrage faded, to be replaced with a smile, and my hearts started beating again. “Of course not, ambassador. That is perfectly reasonable. Just one question, what are these machines you speak of? How will we build the high points of the pyramid?
I suppose there was no way around it. This would likely be forgotten before any real recording of history began anyways. “Well we have these saucers that are capable of flight...”
***
If you enjoyed check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| “Listen, Pharaoh, friend,” the slimy advisor inexplicably wearing a suit and tie in ancient Egypt. “I know you want to create a giant water wheel in the Nile to grind grain, but you have to understand, circles and wheels are so 10,000 B.C.”
“B.C.?” the Pharaoh asked.
“Yeah before…never mind,” the advisor quickly adverted. “Listen, all the civilizations of the Mesopotamia already have wheels. The Sumerians just developed carts for crying out loud. As a world leader, you need to be one step ahead of the competition, not floundering behind and wasting resources on some project you don’t even know will work.”
“On the contrary,” the Pharaoh interrupted. “My top engineers in the court have promised great success. I know of their sincerity, because should they fail to produce a water wheel that grind grains, I shall castrate them and the throw them to the crocodiles. Your proposition, however, to stay ahead of those miserable Sumerians intrigues me. Continue.”
“Alright,” the advisor continued. “Circles were a great advancement for humanity, but the geometrically speaking, it’s out of vogue. I, however, know the next best thing: triangles.”
The Pharaoh raised his eyebrow to signal him to continue.
“That’s right,” the advisor began his pitch. “Triangles. These babies have three sides and three points.”
He arranged his hands roughly to form a triangle. The Pharaoh tried to mimic the motions, but struggled.
“What use are these triangles?” the Pharaoh asked.
“That’s thing. They can be used for damned near anything,” the advisor claimed. “They’re the strongest shape in nature, unlike that weak ass square. More importantly, though, the geometetry is fairly simple and straightforward in you know Pythagorean’s theorem.”
“Pythagorean?” the Pharaoh looked to his advisor.
“Never mind him,” the advisor quickly corrected himself. “Imagine this: A giant stone pyramid, that’s a bunch of triangles stacked together, reaching to the heavens themselves. They would stand the test of time and more importantly, they would be built in your glory.”
The Pharaoh’s face lit up for a second.
“Your name would stand forever in history with these pyramids,” the advisor continued like a cat ready to make its kill. “Imagine a final resting place, with your name and across the walls and your treasures buried with you, forever staying a monument that would amaze the world and attract men and women from all corners of the world. So long as these people flocked to your tomb and spoke your name on their tongues, you would never truly die.”
“Then let it be done,” the Pharaoh announced. “I know not what witchery you used to enter my court, but your words carry truth beyond truths. Glib, gather the country’s stone masons and begin ascertaining new sites for extracting stones from the earth.”
“Actually,” the advisor interrupted. “I happen to own a stone query to the south…”
*****
More Stories at r/Andrew__Wells
| |
[WP] You're the advisor to the Pharoahs who first convinced them that they should definitely build giant pyramids. | “Giant...triangles?”
“Th...that’s right, Pharaoh,” I said, a bit nervous. He wasn’t taking it as well as I’d hoped.
He tilted his head a bit quizzically, “Ambassador, you know I appreciate the insight you bring from you kingdom,” he paused and seemed to think intensely, “what did you say it was again?”
“Err...Europe,” I said, hoping I didn’t come off as suspicious. I really shouldn’t have slept through the briefing.
“Right,” The Pharaoh said, narrowing his eyes, “Europe...But what purpose, precisely, does this giant triangle serve?”
“It is of course,” I said loading as much pomp and ceremony into my voice as possible, “a long-lasting testament to your glory,and moreover, the height shall bring you closer to the heavens, and closer to the Gods!”
“I see,” he said, massaging his chin, “I certainly see the glory of it, the respect it would command. Though the afterlife part of it seems like fantasy to be frank. The heavens are thousands of miles up in the air, what does a few hundred feet bridge?”
Huh. I had no idea humans possessed this level of reasoning. Thinking fast I quickly laughed. “Of course, Pharaoh. You know that, I know that. But what of the fools who visit your Kingdom. Feed them false tales, and look how they pour in to say the stairways to heaven.” The Pharaoh suddenly grinned and I knew I had him. “And of course you-”
“Charge them a fee!” The Pharaoh finished emphatically. “My, my ambassador this is truly genius! Such an undertaking not only immortalizes my name but invigorates our economy!” The his smile quickly faded, “but the logistics of it, it is far too massive of an undertaking.”
I fought to keep a manic grin off my face. We had it! We could establish the telecommunication array here, and the humans would give us the land for free. “Not to worry, Pharaoh, us Europeans will provide the building blocks and the machines, you need only provide the labor.”
The Pharaoh’s eyes narrowed in suspicion once again. “Why this kindness, why give us this idea and provide us these blocks? What’s in it for you?”
Again, it seems we had grossly underestimated human intelligence.
“We of course will sell the blocks to you, Pharaoh, you did not actually believe we would give them for free?” It was a gamble, but I laughed.
A jumble of emotions flickered on his face, and for a moment I thought he would have me thrown out for daring to laugh at the Pharaoh. I sighed inwardly, there goes my promotion. But either I imagined it or he hid it, and the outrage faded, to be replaced with a smile, and my hearts started beating again. “Of course not, ambassador. That is perfectly reasonable. Just one question, what are these machines you speak of? How will we build the high points of the pyramid?
I suppose there was no way around it. This would likely be forgotten before any real recording of history began anyways. “Well we have these saucers that are capable of flight...”
***
If you enjoyed check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| FADE IN:
INT. A PHARAOH'S THRONE ROOM - DAY
*A man in a tall headdress lounges on an enormous cushion. The is THE PHARAOH. He is surrounded by ATTENDANTS and GUARDS, many of whom look rather bored.*
**ARCHITECT:** (*O.S.*) Good morning, sir!
*Everyone turns to look as an overly cheerful man struts into the throne room. This is THE ARCHITECT. A guard steps forward to block his path.*
**GUARD:** Oi! What do you think you're doing?
**ARCHITECT:** I'm going to speak to the Pharaoh.
**GUARD:** You can't do that! "Speak to the Pharaoh?" He's a god, he is!
**ARCHITECT:** Ah. Yes. I see your point.
*The guard nods, satisfied, and goes back to his original position. When he turns around, he sees the architect kneeling next to a pillar.*
**GUARD:** ... Now what are you doing?
**ARCHITECT:** Praying, sir!
**GUARD:** "Praying?"
**ARCHITECT:** Well, as you rightly state, the Pharaoh is a god, so...
**GUARD:** (*Interrupting*) You can't pray in here! This is the Pharaoh's house!
**ARCHITECT:** Is that a problem, sir?
**GUARD:** Too right, it's a problem! Praying in the Pharaoh's house? You might bother him!
**PHARAOH:** Oh, just let the man through.
*The guard glares at the architect, but ushers him over to the Pharaoh.*
**ARCHITECT:** Thank you, sir.
**PHARAOH:** What do you want?
**ARCHITECT:** I'm afraid it's about the pyramids, sir.
**PHARAOH:** Stop that.
**ARCHITECT:** Stop what, sir?
**PHARAOH:** That! Stop that! You don't call pharaohs "sir."
**ARCHITECT:** Right you are, great one, he who is the living embodiment of Ra on Earth and...
**GUARD:** (*Interrupting*) Right, that does it. Come on, you.
*The guard grabs the architect by the arm and starts dragging him away.*
**ARCHITECT:** (*Urgently*) They're going to fall down!
*The guard stops moving. The Pharaoh stands up from his cushion.*
**PHARAOH:** "Fall down?" What, the pyramids?
**ARCHITECT:** Yes, sir.
**PHARAOH:** Pyramids can't "fall down." They're the most structurally stable shape in existence!
**ARCHITECT:** Not quite, sir.
**PHARAOH:** What are you talking about?
**ARCHITECT:** Speaking quite frankly, sir, a flat plane would be more stable.
*One of the attendants rolls her eyes.*
**ATTENDANT:** You haven't seen him knock plates over.
*The Pharaoh makes a motion with his hand. The guard walks toward the attendant, approaching with a menacing look on his face. Several seconds of tense silence pass.*
**GUARD:** Shut up.
**ATTENDANT:** Sorry.
**PHARAOH:** Right. Don't do it again.
**ARCHITECT:** We need to do something, sir!
*The Pharaoh rubs his forehead with an exasperated look on his face.*
**PHARAOH:** Look, what do you suggest we do? You're the one who sold us on these pyramids in the first place.
**ARCHITECT:** Convert them all to flat planes.
**PHARAOH:** You can't bury people in a flat plane.
**GUARD:** You could if you used the word "plane" in an anachronistic context.
*Every stares at the guard.*
**GUARD:** Sorry. This idiocy seems to be catching.
**PHARAOH:** You know what to do, guard.
*The guard nods, looking somber. He draws his sword and holds it in front of his face. His grip tightens on the hilt.*
**GUARD:** (*To his reflection*) Shut up.
*The Pharaoh nods, then turns his attention back to the architect.*
**PHARAOH:** Are there any other options?
**ARCHITECT:** Ah, I'm glad you asked, sir! We should build a giant sphinx.
**PHARAOH:** A what?
**ARCHITECT:** A sphinx, sir. It's like a large, cat-like creature with the face of a...
**PHARAOH:** (*Interrupting*) I know what a sphinx is! Why would we build one, though? Here you are, telling me that pyramids are too unstable, and now you want to build a giant cat?!
**ARCHITECT:** Yes, sir! It's the only viable option.
**PHARAOH:** How is *that* a viable option?! If the pyramids are doomed to "fall down," why would a *giant sphinx* be any different?!
**ARCHITECT:** Well, sir, it would still fall down, but it wouldn't matter.
**PHARAOH:** Why not?
**ARCHITECT:** Cats always land on their feet, sir.
*Nobody says anything for a moment.*
**GUARD:** Shut up.
FADE OUT. | |
[WP] Humans are the only species who have the cultural concept of ghosts. Years after aliens have wiped out humanity and colonised earth, they can't find out why life on earth is becoming a living hell. |
Data Log - Entry 1
**Commandant** **Sercus Tyber** of **The Turian Annihilation Fleet's 1XC-V1 Regiment** here, putting my thoughts to data today, supposed to help with the dark thoughts, removing the gift of life from an entire planet is meant to be unenjoyable you see.
Whilst in combat school we were taught that in the rare event our unit would need to be sent into battle it would be a thankless task, we were to be the monsters they called on when the rabble couldn't do what must be done. we were to hate our jobs but do so anyway.
We landed on Perigon II three days past, within the first day the Human warriors were defeated, their military was thin, sickly, likely from previous losses, it took so little time I had wondered why we were even here.
then came the settlers, the common soldiers ran back to their ships, they shut their eyes and closed their minds, it was our duty now, our glory.
during these two days I've personally handed death to 20000 Humans, before I ended my shift I had found it efficient to keep the families together, they made less noise when removed as a unit, though their endless cursing only found respite in the dirt - whatever the case, now they are forgotten.
Data Log - Entry 2
It's been several months since our mission ended, we've been called back to Perigon II, talk of remaining Humans, Turian settlers being killed in the night, likely a Terrorist group hoping to enact revenge.
Our unit will be going out on recon into the local mines to find them and finish them soon.
Data Log - Entry 3
We found something, a Human child, didn't stop to ask questions, just fired - no confirmed hits, it... it just stood and smiled, before we could even blink Sgt Arcin screamed in pain, his own spine had been pulled from him and used as a crude javelin to impale Pvt Tommun no one saw who did it, we... we ran.
Data Log - Entry 4
They aren't terrorists, the events have spread, across the globe, every settlers camp, every outpost, besieged by the unseen, the unheard, the unknown - there are no words for what this is, the Humans call them spectors, after the elite agent presumably, a worthy comparison, so many are dead, so many attempt to flee but our ships don't fly, our messages stopped getting through, we are stuck here, we are being hunted down.
Data Log - Entry 5
They've come.... no... they never left.
I can see them now, they're everywhere! they're smiling, laughing, mocking me, taunting me, please make it stop, please, I don't deserve this, I want to see my family, I want to liv
Data Log - Entry 6
//////***SO***//////**DID**//////**WE**////////
| It had been many years since we wiped the native species off the face of the universe. We had to do it, we had to survive, we had no choice. It was us or them. The conditions of this planet were just too perfect. We had finally found our haven, to start again. We could not stop ourselves from claiming it.
Yet, like all good things in life, it must have a price.
Let this audio journal assist the next researcher in hopes of finding a cure, for this nonsense is above this warrior. I pray that our kin does not have to wander through the stars once more. I wish for our people to finally have a home.
It began one night when civilians stated critical temperature drops in their living spaces. Some reported objects misaligning themselves in their own living quarters, and a few reported voices of the native species in the night.
We searched for any remaining survivors, and found nothing. Meanwhile more and more reports would come to us with the same issues. Some of us started to believe... that something was still with us. Others believed this to be the price to pay. Absolute madness.
| |
[WP] Humans are the only species who have the cultural concept of ghosts. Years after aliens have wiped out humanity and colonised earth, they can't find out why life on earth is becoming a living hell. |
Data Log - Entry 1
**Commandant** **Sercus Tyber** of **The Turian Annihilation Fleet's 1XC-V1 Regiment** here, putting my thoughts to data today, supposed to help with the dark thoughts, removing the gift of life from an entire planet is meant to be unenjoyable you see.
Whilst in combat school we were taught that in the rare event our unit would need to be sent into battle it would be a thankless task, we were to be the monsters they called on when the rabble couldn't do what must be done. we were to hate our jobs but do so anyway.
We landed on Perigon II three days past, within the first day the Human warriors were defeated, their military was thin, sickly, likely from previous losses, it took so little time I had wondered why we were even here.
then came the settlers, the common soldiers ran back to their ships, they shut their eyes and closed their minds, it was our duty now, our glory.
during these two days I've personally handed death to 20000 Humans, before I ended my shift I had found it efficient to keep the families together, they made less noise when removed as a unit, though their endless cursing only found respite in the dirt - whatever the case, now they are forgotten.
Data Log - Entry 2
It's been several months since our mission ended, we've been called back to Perigon II, talk of remaining Humans, Turian settlers being killed in the night, likely a Terrorist group hoping to enact revenge.
Our unit will be going out on recon into the local mines to find them and finish them soon.
Data Log - Entry 3
We found something, a Human child, didn't stop to ask questions, just fired - no confirmed hits, it... it just stood and smiled, before we could even blink Sgt Arcin screamed in pain, his own spine had been pulled from him and used as a crude javelin to impale Pvt Tommun no one saw who did it, we... we ran.
Data Log - Entry 4
They aren't terrorists, the events have spread, across the globe, every settlers camp, every outpost, besieged by the unseen, the unheard, the unknown - there are no words for what this is, the Humans call them spectors, after the elite agent presumably, a worthy comparison, so many are dead, so many attempt to flee but our ships don't fly, our messages stopped getting through, we are stuck here, we are being hunted down.
Data Log - Entry 5
They've come.... no... they never left.
I can see them now, they're everywhere! they're smiling, laughing, mocking me, taunting me, please make it stop, please, I don't deserve this, I want to see my family, I want to liv
Data Log - Entry 6
//////***SO***//////**DID**//////**WE**////////
| "Give it to me"
"..."
"Give it to me..."
"What?"
"Give me the cultural concept of ghosts"
"nope"
Newmans had wiped out non-newmanity and colonised earth for quite a long time, yet they didn't understand what was going on with all this 5th dimensional-like paranormal activity that was still interfering with their lives. All they knew, thanks to the Mining Ethereal Metabase Ethernet left by non-newmans, or as they called it when they were in a hurry: bob, was that one word was not associated with measurable concepts: ghost. Then, as they knew this must be some deal of a higher dimension, they knew they could communicate one way, but, they were receiving responses, what the hell?
| |
[WP] Teleporters have replaced all vehicles, but there's a catch: they function by killing the original and constructing a clone at the destination. Now the afterlife is overcrowding, and God is pissed. | "Gabriel!"
A pillar of fire billowing golden smoke momentarily lit up the dais before the Arc Angel Gabriel appeared unfolding an expanse of shimmering wings. God rolled his eyes. Gabriel was so dramatic.
“My lord,” the angel said already kneeling, “I exist to serv…”
“Stuff the pleasantries Gabe,” God said as he pointed at a crowd of people huddling is small groups in the great audience chamber. A few of the groups began to prostrate themselves begging for mercy. “And tell me what I’m looking at here.”
“Right. Let me see.” Another pillar of flame left behind a golden book which Gabriel quickly began to consult. God looked out at the crowd. Each person was a unique soul, except they all looked exactly the same. “Ah ha! They all appear to be one Gary Dekator.” Gabriel said looking like a puppy that had just pooped outside and was now expecting a treat. God sighed and rolled his eyes again. Lucifer had always been the smart one.
“I can see that much Gabe. I wrote that book you’re looking at Gabe. I want you to tell me why there are so many Gary’s here! I made one Gary.” As he spoke he held up one finger just to make sure he was making his point clear. “And that Gary was an asshole who is slated for…,” God looked at the crowd of Garys’ who were intently hanging on every word and lowered his voice to slightly less than booming,”…who is slated to take up residence elsewhere. And not for another 20 years! I want you to tell me why I am suddenly hosting sixty-seven copies of one dickbag who’s supposed to be in HELL.” A collective gasp arose from the Garys, followed by much more prostrating and pleas’ for mercy.
“Allow me a moment great Host of Hosts.” Gabriel walked down, retrieved one of the prostrating Garys, and led him up to the dais. Gabriel placed the man’s left hand on the orb of life which would allow the Arc Angel to witness this Gary’s entire life so that he could be judged.
This particular Gary, eyes wider than dinner plates, sheepishly raised his right hand in the air. “I …umm…swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me ….uhh….you?” God just glared at him.
Gabriel looked up from the orb, “It appears, Fount of All Holiness, that this man has invented a teleportation machine. However, when it is used the original Gary is killed and an exact replica is created at the destination. He appears to be in the middle of attempting to market this new invention and, meanwhile, has created a lucrative side business in the organ replacement market.”
A look of pure shock crossed God’s face. “Jesus Fucking Christ!”
A puff of purple smoke appeared. “You had better actually need me Dad.” Jesus said, looking around taking in the scene.
“I still don’t understand,” God said, “so what if this copy died early? What he is doing is still pretty terrible. Why aren’t all these copies Lucifer’s problem? Why is this clearly shitty person here?” Gary lowered his hand and found something interesting about his feet to look at.
“I don’t think is fair that you get to break your own rules Dad. Not that you care.” Jesus huffed.
Gabriel turned to the Gary in question. “It appears that this Gary’s only action was to remember that he left his lunch at home. He existed for 10 seconds and died having never committed any sins, your Grace,” Gabriel said apologetically.
Gary looked up, hopeful.
“God Damn it,” God said.
“Unbelievable!” Jesus said.
“Welp,” God said shaking his head and drawing a deep breath, “Tell Lucifer double his reception staff, and prepare the earth for a hard reset. Let’s go with floods again since that worked so well the last time. And let’s rework physics…AGAIN…and maybe we can try to get it right this time.”
| God, being omnicient, knew this moment was coming. When creating the universe he thought about it exactly before deciding that the alternative was even more unbearable.
But now the time was coming where the line between mortals and immortals blurred, and the %10 of existence where there was a lot of bickering began, he questioned, not himself, but logic. He wondered if he would ever cycle back and take the red pill instead, but then he wouldn't ever get to witness that magnificent creature that is Shiva gloriously be the salvation of the universe in the time %97.7. Every occurence of that moment was just as wonderful as the last. Exactly as wonderful, and it was worth the following torture.
"Listen, Allmighty and Allpowerful Merciful Lord, I can't have another fucking..."
The Devil himself was then promptly smited into smitherines, before almost instantly reappearing before the Father of all Creation.
"The underworld is rampant with these clones. It was amusing at first, torturing them just right to recreate Beethoven's 5th with their agonzing screams was the most fun I've had since the Crusades. But now it's really rediculous and I can't help but notice that you don't seem to be having the same problem."
God didn't even try and speak, he just contemplated again if there was some loophole in his reasoning he could use to eliminate free will without feeling guilty. One True God level guilt is pretty debilitating, literally paradoxical to a level where the universe would implode, he assumed.
He didn't bother to weigh in to the coming arguement he had witnessed infinity times but that they, from their perspective, were now having for the first of what will feel like infinity times in their short eternal lives.
St. Paul raised, cleared his throat very professionally, still dressed like it was %5 with his sandals and a robe, and spoke. "These clones do not have souls! I have appraised these humanoids as is my duty and can not in right conscious let them into heaven without souls!"
Devil "So send them to purgatory!"
Jesus spoke up "There's no more room left. None of the clones have made it past the first level, it seems existential crisis is really tough for them to get through."
Devil "THEY'RE NOT MY RESPONSIBILITY."
God sighed and said out loud "Here we go."
| |
[WP] Teleporters have replaced all vehicles, but there's a catch: they function by killing the original and constructing a clone at the destination. Now the afterlife is overcrowding, and God is pissed. | "Gabriel!"
A pillar of fire billowing golden smoke momentarily lit up the dais before the Arc Angel Gabriel appeared unfolding an expanse of shimmering wings. God rolled his eyes. Gabriel was so dramatic.
“My lord,” the angel said already kneeling, “I exist to serv…”
“Stuff the pleasantries Gabe,” God said as he pointed at a crowd of people huddling is small groups in the great audience chamber. A few of the groups began to prostrate themselves begging for mercy. “And tell me what I’m looking at here.”
“Right. Let me see.” Another pillar of flame left behind a golden book which Gabriel quickly began to consult. God looked out at the crowd. Each person was a unique soul, except they all looked exactly the same. “Ah ha! They all appear to be one Gary Dekator.” Gabriel said looking like a puppy that had just pooped outside and was now expecting a treat. God sighed and rolled his eyes again. Lucifer had always been the smart one.
“I can see that much Gabe. I wrote that book you’re looking at Gabe. I want you to tell me why there are so many Gary’s here! I made one Gary.” As he spoke he held up one finger just to make sure he was making his point clear. “And that Gary was an asshole who is slated for…,” God looked at the crowd of Garys’ who were intently hanging on every word and lowered his voice to slightly less than booming,”…who is slated to take up residence elsewhere. And not for another 20 years! I want you to tell me why I am suddenly hosting sixty-seven copies of one dickbag who’s supposed to be in HELL.” A collective gasp arose from the Garys, followed by much more prostrating and pleas’ for mercy.
“Allow me a moment great Host of Hosts.” Gabriel walked down, retrieved one of the prostrating Garys, and led him up to the dais. Gabriel placed the man’s left hand on the orb of life which would allow the Arc Angel to witness this Gary’s entire life so that he could be judged.
This particular Gary, eyes wider than dinner plates, sheepishly raised his right hand in the air. “I …umm…swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me ….uhh….you?” God just glared at him.
Gabriel looked up from the orb, “It appears, Fount of All Holiness, that this man has invented a teleportation machine. However, when it is used the original Gary is killed and an exact replica is created at the destination. He appears to be in the middle of attempting to market this new invention and, meanwhile, has created a lucrative side business in the organ replacement market.”
A look of pure shock crossed God’s face. “Jesus Fucking Christ!”
A puff of purple smoke appeared. “You had better actually need me Dad.” Jesus said, looking around taking in the scene.
“I still don’t understand,” God said, “so what if this copy died early? What he is doing is still pretty terrible. Why aren’t all these copies Lucifer’s problem? Why is this clearly shitty person here?” Gary lowered his hand and found something interesting about his feet to look at.
“I don’t think is fair that you get to break your own rules Dad. Not that you care.” Jesus huffed.
Gabriel turned to the Gary in question. “It appears that this Gary’s only action was to remember that he left his lunch at home. He existed for 10 seconds and died having never committed any sins, your Grace,” Gabriel said apologetically.
Gary looked up, hopeful.
“God Damn it,” God said.
“Unbelievable!” Jesus said.
“Welp,” God said shaking his head and drawing a deep breath, “Tell Lucifer double his reception staff, and prepare the earth for a hard reset. Let’s go with floods again since that worked so well the last time. And let’s rework physics…AGAIN…and maybe we can try to get it right this time.”
| Uriel tread on winged feet above the burning city, observing the chaos below with an experienced dispassion. It was impressive, he thought, this city of York; to stay above the tops of its towers, he walked through air so high that the people below were as ants. He would have considered this a fitting symbolism, had he seen much of a difference between people and ants to begin with.
Behind him was Gabriel, who flapped about excitedly like some kind of cherub. Always excitable, that one, ever since The Announcement. And he wouldn't *shut up*. "Hey Uri," he said. Uriel flinched. The shortening made a blasphemy of his name, but Gabriel - or *Gabe* - didn't seem to care. The Almighty had more or less left him alone for the past two millennia, and he was clearly acting out for attention. "Hey Uri," he repeated.
**"What?!"** Uriel yelled at the brighter angel. The legions of herald angels scattered in the wake of his shout, and birds fell from the sky for hundreds of yards. One of the nearest spires started to crack.
Gabriel was not dissuaded. "You know they saw this coming, right?" Uriel fumed silently. "Like, they have *movies* about it. There's a billion-dollar industry based on the dead coming to life." Gabriel's fluttering slowed slightly as he realized that Uriel wasn't reacting with the awe he'd hoped for. "Look!" He produced a thin, oddly flimsy tablet from beneath his robes, titled with the words *Dawn of the Dead*.
**"What is that?"** Uriel asked against his better judgment. The air trembled around him, and the legion of herald angels paused their regrouping.
"It's a movie," Gabriel said. "Well, like a story, but instead of telling it around the fire you watch it on a box like a play and - man, I'm going to miss this planet. Anyway, it's a story - whose entire concept is, and I quote - *When there's no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the Earth*. They called it! The humans called it! How crazy is that?"
Despite himself, Uriel raised a single inquisitive eyebrow. "**Did they predict the apocalypse in its entirety?**" He asked. The weakened spire nearby finally cracked and split off from the tower, plunging to the earth.
"What, you mean the fact that they'd be outnumbered twenty-to-one? Or that 'the dead' would turn out to be them? Either way, the answer is no, buddy. Although they do have a lot of good stuff on teleporters. Hey, once this apocalypse is over, you and I need to sit down and watch some *Star Trek*. There's only a couple hundred episodes, so we can get through it pretty quick. I think you'd like *Wrath of Khan*, it seems very you."
Uriel had stopped paying attention, and was staring down at the strangely cobbled streets of the city. The dead, having lost their bodies, had had to make do with what they could find, but it worked, and Uriel felt a tingle of cold pleasure at the ingenuity of three spirits who worked together to animate an entire butcher shop's worth of discarded flesh.Two blocks down, a desperate mortal tried to escape via teleporter, only to die and join the rest, accumulating rubble and waste as their spirit shambled along the walkway. Uriel was dimly aware that a new mortal had been born three miles away with a head full of someone else's memories.
Another tower fell, not by Uriel's doing this time. Most of the city had already caught fire, and it was quickly getting less interesting. "**Gabriel, we move,**" Uriel said. "**We have elsewheres to chronicle.**"
"Sure thing, boss," Gabriel said, and pointed his fingers at Uriel with thumbs up. Uriel shrugged, grunted, and *flew*, his wake catching the fire all the way on the ground and making it flare and spread. Gabriel followed, and most of the herald angels struggled to keep up. The rest stayed behind, their mouths gaping wide, and sounded the death knell of New York City. *It was good while it lasted,* Gabriel thought as he flew by Uriel's side. | |
[WP] Teleporters have replaced all vehicles, but there's a catch: they function by killing the original and constructing a clone at the destination. Now the afterlife is overcrowding, and God is pissed. | "Gabriel!"
A pillar of fire billowing golden smoke momentarily lit up the dais before the Arc Angel Gabriel appeared unfolding an expanse of shimmering wings. God rolled his eyes. Gabriel was so dramatic.
“My lord,” the angel said already kneeling, “I exist to serv…”
“Stuff the pleasantries Gabe,” God said as he pointed at a crowd of people huddling is small groups in the great audience chamber. A few of the groups began to prostrate themselves begging for mercy. “And tell me what I’m looking at here.”
“Right. Let me see.” Another pillar of flame left behind a golden book which Gabriel quickly began to consult. God looked out at the crowd. Each person was a unique soul, except they all looked exactly the same. “Ah ha! They all appear to be one Gary Dekator.” Gabriel said looking like a puppy that had just pooped outside and was now expecting a treat. God sighed and rolled his eyes again. Lucifer had always been the smart one.
“I can see that much Gabe. I wrote that book you’re looking at Gabe. I want you to tell me why there are so many Gary’s here! I made one Gary.” As he spoke he held up one finger just to make sure he was making his point clear. “And that Gary was an asshole who is slated for…,” God looked at the crowd of Garys’ who were intently hanging on every word and lowered his voice to slightly less than booming,”…who is slated to take up residence elsewhere. And not for another 20 years! I want you to tell me why I am suddenly hosting sixty-seven copies of one dickbag who’s supposed to be in HELL.” A collective gasp arose from the Garys, followed by much more prostrating and pleas’ for mercy.
“Allow me a moment great Host of Hosts.” Gabriel walked down, retrieved one of the prostrating Garys, and led him up to the dais. Gabriel placed the man’s left hand on the orb of life which would allow the Arc Angel to witness this Gary’s entire life so that he could be judged.
This particular Gary, eyes wider than dinner plates, sheepishly raised his right hand in the air. “I …umm…swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me ….uhh….you?” God just glared at him.
Gabriel looked up from the orb, “It appears, Fount of All Holiness, that this man has invented a teleportation machine. However, when it is used the original Gary is killed and an exact replica is created at the destination. He appears to be in the middle of attempting to market this new invention and, meanwhile, has created a lucrative side business in the organ replacement market.”
A look of pure shock crossed God’s face. “Jesus Fucking Christ!”
A puff of purple smoke appeared. “You had better actually need me Dad.” Jesus said, looking around taking in the scene.
“I still don’t understand,” God said, “so what if this copy died early? What he is doing is still pretty terrible. Why aren’t all these copies Lucifer’s problem? Why is this clearly shitty person here?” Gary lowered his hand and found something interesting about his feet to look at.
“I don’t think is fair that you get to break your own rules Dad. Not that you care.” Jesus huffed.
Gabriel turned to the Gary in question. “It appears that this Gary’s only action was to remember that he left his lunch at home. He existed for 10 seconds and died having never committed any sins, your Grace,” Gabriel said apologetically.
Gary looked up, hopeful.
“God Damn it,” God said.
“Unbelievable!” Jesus said.
“Welp,” God said shaking his head and drawing a deep breath, “Tell Lucifer double his reception staff, and prepare the earth for a hard reset. Let’s go with floods again since that worked so well the last time. And let’s rework physics…AGAIN…and maybe we can try to get it right this time.”
| "What on Earth is going on?" the great one proclaimed, perplexing on his throne as he awakens from his rest to see the magnificent halls of heaven's gates begin to clog like a Chipotle toilet. Un-amused he beckons for an explanation. " You haven't noticed, father? Humans have constructed means of instant transportation, costing the present beings life in exchange." explained Julian.(his head of security. )
"This is the last straw, I'm over this experiment "in an uncharacteristic rage; God snapped his fingers and suddenly earth froze still. He had stopped time for the first time since its creation. He swiftly turned his attention to all people who had come to earth via teleportation and with one finger he shot a beam from his index finger and shouted "You will perish for your sins!" the people disappeared from the magnificent halls.
Back on earth time un-froze he sent all the originals to their last teleportation portals. All the clones became struck with an illuminated light, and rose high in the sky. Above cities,above towns,and countries. Millions and Millions of People ,helpless, screaming and crying. Their skins turned rotten and green, eyes and limbs randomly fell off, voices turned to hellish scours and howls, they then fell from the sky in swarms, Superpowered, eyes red as inferno and hunger for one and only one thing, humans. Cities became massacres of blood thirsty zombies ,brutally slaughtering every human in sight, God was showing no mercy.
Awoken by a strange feeling Jesus jumped out of his bed ,on the other side of heaven and turned on his tv to see what God had done to earth. With his ability to teleport, he teleported to the palace to ask God "why do this?" to which he replied that human race has lost all hope and earth must be eradicated.
"This is madness! proclaimed Jesus. I must return to earth and help them."
"You will not! They all must die a gruelling and painful death." as God sent a flurry of flames at Jesus shooting him back through the halls. Dazed and Confused. Jesus looks up from the rubble to see that none-other than Lucifer himself was standing before him.
"Satan? how did you...?" before he could finish he was picked up and thrown through heavens walls. Jesus quickly counters with a flurry of jet propulsion streams temporarily stumbling Satan. Looking around he could see that heaven is suddenly turning dark, demons and ghouls begin to entering heavens gate. Armys of heavens finest warriors came to help. There is war on Heaven and earth.
"Julian where is my father?" asked Jesus. " Your guess is as good as mine, I thought he was God. "pointing to satan. explained Julian. Confused and filled with question. Jesus screamed. Satan came charging fist flaming,and spraying fire from every direction. Julian and his army quickly stepped up to hold him off. "GO SAVE PLANET EARTH. I'LL TAKE CARE OF THIS." exclaimed Julian. Jesus without hesitation teleported to Earth. The destruction he saw was improbable the zombies were crushing the population of earth. Hovering over New York City skyline he came up with a plan, he clothed himself in impenetrable armour and wielded a elegantly made katana with sparks and static grizzling off it. He then made clones of himself in the millions and dispersed them through the world and began fighting off the zombies killing as many as he could but this was no small task. the zombies outnumbered the amount of clones Jesus could make.
Back in Heaven Julian's army of men was dwindling, every desperate attempt to reach God was futile. Soon is was Julian and Satan who easily overpowered him, grabbed him by the throat with his fiery club for a hand. Ready to finish him off..... " Slishhhhh!. "
Satan's arm became slashed off at the middle of his forearm. Freeing Julian. " WHAT HAVE YOU DONE IMBECILE.! " screamed Satan. it was God himself and in one swift flurry he sent Satan and every monster and ghoul back to hell and sealed it off. Then God fell to the ground and fainted from the exhaustion.
On earth Jesus ' war against these zombies was quickly turning dire. He successfully eradicated zombies in all but the U.S.
Jesus's powers were draining from using so much energy ,outnumbered by the thousands and growing. The Zombies were annihilating Christs army of clones.Julian and the rest of heaven could only watch as God layed there passed out from using up all his energy. With Jesus and God being the only two able to transport back to earth, He was on his own. The battle waged on and Jesus finally overpowered was reduced to one.
Meanwhile in hell Satan not done yet and still in control of his zombies ordered them to merge together into a goliath zombie made of thousands that stood taller than sky scrapers. "DESTROY THIS PLANET" the monster zombie began charging and inferno beam and aimed at the core of earth. Jesus forced to retreat and badly worn. pounded his fist in his ground. tears wheeling down his face. He knew what there was to do.
He sprouted out of shelter and flew up to the goliath grabbed its arm and teleported to a distant inhabited planet. The zombie let off its beam after charging and destroyed this planet at the core. it blew up in a cataclysmic explosion
Earth will be spared, though badly destroyed and its people decimated, Heaven was also in ruins. It was later discovered by heavens intelligence that the teleportation device made on Earth turned out to be a diabolical creation by Satan's evil engineers who somehow managed to implemented the idea into a corporations around the world. who mass-produced them. Then Satan in disguise teleported himself to heaven and sent God deep in the bowels of hell.
Heaven was full of millions of people who lost their lives in the apocalyptic catastrophe, awoken from his slumber God could not bear to see his creation in such dire shape, he used all of his powers to restore every life on earth in the name of his son, and Earths savior. Jesus Christ
| |
[WP] Teleporters have replaced all vehicles, but there's a catch: they function by killing the original and constructing a clone at the destination. Now the afterlife is overcrowding, and God is pissed. | They just kept getting fatter.
"What the *fuck* am I eating down there?" I asked #1,029 one day, as yet another wide-backed, thick-necked, sweat-soaked Jerry Bins landed with a blubbery *plop* at my feet.
"They put a 'porter in the Whattaburger on Smith Street," said #1,029. "Right inside the door. It's not fair, really."
"Holy cow!" said the newbie, rolling to his feet with an embarrassing amount of effort. "Is this Heaven? Am I dead? Are you... why are there so many of me?"
I snapped my fingers. #612 - slightly jowly and easily flushed, but not yet a wreck of humanity - came sprinting out of the living room. "Hello, hello," he said. "Welcome to Heaven. The teleporter killed you. But don't be bummed. You were only alive for..." #612 pulled out an iPad. "Eleven minutes. Hope you made it count."
"Eleven minutes?" said the newbie. "I'm... I'm 36 years old. I don't..."
"Teleportation is a lie," said #612. "You remember *The Prestige*?"
The newbie was still trying to catch his breath. "The Christopher Nolan movie? With... with the magicians? Am I a magician?"
I rolled my eyes. "*And* I'm getting stupider? This is horrifying."
"Who's he?" said the newbie, pointing at me. "If this is Heaven I'd like to look more like him, please."
"The teleporter was a cloning device," said #612, already turning, trying to escape back into the living room. "Original you was disintegrated. A new you was created at the second teleporter location. It's really all pretty..."
With a thwump and a plop, yet another fat Jerry Bins fell into the room.
"Holy shit!" said the first newbie. "It's me!"
"We're all *you*!" I shouted, while jabbing the newest Jerry Bins in the ribs with my toes. "And where the *fuck* were you going, fatty? You *just* took a teleporter!"
The newest newbie rolled to his side. "I forgot my wallet. What the hell is going on here? Am I...?"
"Dead, yes," said #612. "Teleporter killed you. But don't worry, you were only alive for... four and a half minutes. My shift's over. Any more questions, talk to #855."
The newest newbie blinked up at me. "Eight hundred fifty-five *what*?"
"This is pathetic!" I said, storming out the door. "Enough is enough."
I found God about where I expected - in his office, working on a Sudoku puzzle.
"What now, Jerry?"
"I'd like you to reconsider my request," I said, slumping down into the chair across from His desk. "I can't take much more of this."
"You're dead, Jerry," said God, not looking up. "The affairs of the living are no longer your concern."
"But it *is* my concern. It's *me*! Those clones are me! They got my name. They got my job. They got my fucking dog and my fucking stretched out face. They're ruinin' it. It's embarrassing. What about my legacy?"
"Your legacy is what *you* did on Earth," said God, frowning as he scratched out a number in the margins. "That's the ledger that got you in. But that book is closed. These other Jerry Bins need to live their own lives, on their own terms."
"But they're all getting in," I said. "Some of them aren't even alive long enough to make a bag of microwavable popcorn, for cryin' out loud! You can't tell me *they're* gettin' in on the strength of their fucking resumes."
God looked up. I was worried for a moment, because sometimes God will stare a hole right through you and you know its not because He thinks you have an interesting face. But instead he nodded.
"Well, actually, there's some truth to that," He said with a sigh. "In truth, we never accounted for all this cloning. How do you judge someone who was born a block from their house, took a shit, then died on the way back to work, because they can't take a dump in a public restroom? I can't condemn someone to Hell for that, but it's not like they've actually *done* anything all that great. So, yes. Every new Jerry Bins is judged on the collective works of Jerry Bins. But so far, that's worked out just fine for you, correct?"
"I suppose," I said, "if watching yourself slowly melt into goo is your idea of a good time. But what happens if they start going astray? Look at them! They aren't *me* any more. They're getting lazy and stupid and so, so goddamn fat."
"Hey now..."
"Sorry, sorry." I shook my head. "What if the collective works of Jerry Bins starts swinging in the wrong direction? What does that mean for me?"
God stroked His chin. "We haven't gotten there yet, but... I suppose it could mean you might all have to... relocate."
I slapped my hands on the table. "And there it is! That's what's at stake. It's not fair to even leave that up to chance. I was good - or good enough, I guess. It's not fair to let these idiots mess it all up for me."
"Hmm." God took a slow, steady breath. His eyes went down to the puzzle and up to the light fixture above. Finally he looked down at me. "Okay. I'll do it."
________________________________________
Jerry Bins licked his fingers, sticky with barbecue sauce. He ditched his empty wrappings and his tray and lumbered towards the teleporter. As he began to dial up the teleporter across from his apartment, he felt a strange chill.
"Don't you even fucking *dare*."
Jerry swung around and came face to face with a ghost. A thing of pale smoke. It was him - Jerry Bins - but younger. Healthier. Angrier.
Jerry stammered. "I... wha... you..."
"Come on, run!" shouted the ghost, pointing towards the door. "Run home, little piggie! Before I get you!"
Jerry fled, heaving open the door and spilling onto Smith Street. The light burned. He hissed like a vampire.
"Run!" shouted the ghost. "Run!"
Jerry ran. Shedding sweat. Shedding clothes. He ran until he was red like a tomato, then purple like an eggplant.
"Run! Run!" heckled the ghost.
Jerry ran and vomited and ran some more. He ran all the way home, where he locked the door and shivered on the couch, glistening like a sea lion. And when he tried to take the teleporter the next day, the same thing happened. And again and again.
Jerry Bins was truly in hell. | A brown-haired man waved David over, "Hey, David" he said with a smile, "Over here!"
David smiled playfully, "I think I know you," he laughed, "What's up David?"
Other David laughed, "Hey, guys. Look who's here, it's David!"
A small battalion of Davids shuffled over, "What's up, handsome?"
David's eye caught one of the Davids's, or rather all of Davids's, shoes, "Man, those timberlands?"
They spoke in unison, "You know it!"
"That I do," winked David, he gestured at the shoes with finger guns, "Killer taste, lads!"
A short distance away God pressed his head into a heavenly pillow and screamed.
He took a deep breath and called for his advisor, "Gabriel, get in here!"
In the far distance small groups of *individual*, not to be confused with groups of *individuals*, started to shuffle around and make some space.
God impatiently tapped his godly slipper into the cloudy ground, bringing up small puffy clouds, "Come on, don't have all eternity."
He paused for a moment and corrected himself, "Well, I do but this is not what I want to spend it on."
The disturbances and pockets in the crowd started to get closer, God could hear muffled apologies closing in, "I'm sorry.", "Excuse me.", "Coming through."
Gabriel made eye contact with God through the crowd, "Almost there, Sir." he waved.
Then Gabriel ran into a wild pack of Davids, "Ooooh, stellar wings, lad."
The Davids surrounded Gabriel and prodded his wings, "Soft like a baby's bottom, eh?"
God gritted his teeth, "Dammit, Davids! Let Gabriel pass!" | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | wtf!! was Franz reaction. he was certain that his house did not have a massive network of tunnels when he bought it.
His daughter told him about noises under her bed but he always dismissed her, his job at the DEA certainly didn't leave to much time for family.
Could this be it, could this be the entrance of the massive surge of white powder that took his office for surprise a few months back?
It seemed too crazy that mexiCAN cartels were digging some 4 miles well into the U.S. but the holes had no other explanation. how convenient for the cartel to go directly under a dea agent's house. Suddenly the real story of his uncle passing away and leaving him 2 mill would be too damn suspicious. | *Thunk Thunk Thunk*
My eyes open as soon as the sound of light tapping hits my ears.
“Dada, there’s a mobster under my bed.”
I sigh in resignation, and turn over. They say that parenthood can be utter hell, and one of the worst parts is lack of sleep. Everyone says that babies cry throughout the night, but that it gets better. Bullshit. Four year olds don’t cry, but they sure as hell don’t sleep. This was the fifth night in a row that I’ve been awoken from my much needed slumber to attend to my little girl. I love her to pieces, but goddamit daddy needs some sleep.
“Go back to bed, sweet pea,” I say, trying to keep my voice firm yet unaggressive. I don’t like yelling at my daughter, even if every sleep-deprived nerve in my body is telling me to. I always promised I’d be a better father than my own.
“But Dada,” she begins.
“Get!” I cut her off, motioning weakly with my left hand. I didn’t mean to punctuate the word, but I feel asleep at a weird angle, right on top of my arm, and it had grown numb; I needed to shake some life back into it.
“OK,” Lizzy says simply, and patters back ton her bedroom.
I yawn deeply and toss, trying to find a comfortable position, but it’s no use: my pillow is hot, the sheets are twisted, and my bladder is going to explode. I dragged myself out of bed and indulge in a luxurious stretch right before I had down the hall to the bathroom.
I notice that the light in Lizzy’s room is still on, and a crease forms on my lips. My little cutie pie was a sweet girl, but this night-time waking was getting out of hand. Monster tonight, babbling about concrete shoes last night, and then something about sleeping with fishes the night before.
I stumbled in the dark until I found the toilet, raised the lid, and let it rain. As I was doing my business, I idly wondered if this was just a phase that all pre-schoolers go through, or if it was a sign of a deeper problem. I mean, all of these little nightmares might mean she was dealing with some serious anxiety. It had been two years since her mother had died, and I doubt she even remembered Sarah, but could it be signs of childhood loss? I’d need to speak to Ross.
I finished up and as I was flushing I heard something to make my hair stand end, a sound no father wants to hear coming from the room of his small daughter in the middle of the night: the voice of an unknown man. I’d have pissed myself, if I hadn’t just finished.
My daddy instincts kick into overdrive. I grabb the first object I could find and burst into my daughters room, horrified of what I’d find.
“Who the fuck are you!?” I screamed, flailing the toilet plunger madly.
My daughter was at her miniature table, with her porcelain tea set. She had created a mock tea for three, with herself, Floppsy the bunny and….some guy.
He looked startled, but quickly composed himself. He was a middle aged man. His dark hair was graying and smoothed back with pomade, and his suit looked like it cost about a thousand dollars. Even sitting, I could tell he wasn’t very tall, but the tiny flowered tea cup he was clutching in his hands made him look like a giant.
“Who the fuck are you!?” I bellowed again, inching closer. I didn’t want to make any sudden movements, in case he was deranged and had a knife--I couldn’t risk my little girl getting hurt—but I also knew I had to get her to safety.
The man had an oily grin. He put the tea cup down primly, and began to rise.
“Stay where you are!” I shouted, “I have a gun!”
Of course, I didn’t have a gun, nor was there anywhere I could be hiding it if I had, considering I was standing their in naught but my boxer shorts. My only weapon at hand was a plunger, with I still held outwards, towards the mysterious stranger.
The man didn’t challenge me, but raised his hands slightly, in a placating gesture, and with a calm smile sat back down.
“Elizabeth, come over here sweety, come to daddy” I said, tightly. The blood was rushing in my ears, and my heart was in my throat. My baby. If anything should happen, if—“
My reveries were broken by Lizzy’s squeaky little voice.
“Dada! Stop being mean to my fwiend. We’re having a tea pahty!”
I gaped at her, bemused.
“You can join too, Dada, but no more shouting,” she said, using the same tone of voice that I adopt when I tell her she could have two and only two cookies.
“You can sit here, Dada,” she said, motioning to the final space at her kiddy table, across from her beloved stuffed bunny.
*The fuck?* My daddy instincts falter slightly, as I try to take in what the hell is happening.
I have no idea what’s going on here, but you know what, I don’t care. There’s a strange man in my daughter’s bedroom.
“Elizabeth Lauren Jackson, you get over here right now!” I say, adding every incld of parental authority I can muster into the command.
It works and she runs over. I shove her behind me, to make sure she’s safe.
“Now just who the he—“ I began yelling at the man.
“Please, Mr. Jackson. There’s really no need for this,” the man says. He stands and smoothes his expensive suit.
“Please, I have no intention of harming your daughter. Quite the opposite, actually. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Quentin Farelli, “ he says, looking at me expectantly.
“I don’t give a flying fuck who you are, I’m going to call the po…po…” I don’t finish the sentence, because another thought has intruded into my mind. Quentin Farelli, of the East Side Farellis. With dawning horror, I realize that I’m face to face with an infamous mob boss.
The color drains from my face.
“Why are you here?” I ask, with rising fright. I’m shaking like a leaf, and can hardly contain myself. An unbidden visions comes to me; tomorrow’s paper with headline **Lake County Man and Daughter Found Slain in Mob-Style Execution**.
“Relax,” Farelli says, in a soothing tone.
“What do you want?” I ask desperately, and cringe to hear the helpless desperation in my voice.
“Honestly?” he says, “What I want is a tea party.”
“A tea party?” I repeat, incredulously.
“That’s right,” he says simply.
“Why in the world would want a tea party with my daughter. This is insane! And how the hell did you get in here anyway?”
Farelli stretches, and then sits himself back down at the kiddie tea table. He pours himself a very, very small cup of juice from the play tea pot, and sips with all the cu-courtesy and gravitas of having tea with the Queen Mother herself.
“C’mon, take a seat,” he says, cajolingly.
“I’ll stand,” I retort.
Farelli shrugs and then dips an animal cracker into his juice.
“Ya see, Mr. Jackson, a man like, well let’s just say I’m a busy man. My day is full of work. And sometimes work can get a bit…intense,” he says.
“Intense. Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” I said derisively.
“We all got a job to do, Mr. Jackson,” he replied, with a “what can you do” sort of shrug.
“A man like me is used to this…intensity. But sometimes, it takes a toll, you know. I am only human after all, despite what the papers like to write. And so, sometimes busy men need breaks. We need time away from our work, time to reconnect.”
He picked up a play-doh flower that graced Lizzy’s kiddy table.
“Time to stop and smell the roses, as it were.”
He smiled and winked at Lizzy, who giggled behind me.
“Your daughter, Mr. Jackson, is providing me a valuable service—and really good juice,” he says, pouring himself another tiny cup.
“Damn this is good. You squeeze this yourself?”
I stare at him, dumfounded. The toilet plunger that I’m holding now hangs limply by my side.
“How did you get in here?” I ask, trying to get a handle on the situation.
| |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | ######[](#dropcap)
I could hear him underneath my daughter's bedframe, making himself at home. The ruffling of a bespoke three piece suit and fedora made me feel positively ill. The clink of bar glasses and the sloshing of whisky brought chills to my spine. The faint murmur of a needle scratching against an old 78 RPM Sinatra record disturbed me, even to the very core. But worse yet than all of this, that sound which drove fear into the deepest, darkest corner of my heart, was the sound of his voice. I heard him mumbling, in that ancient Brooklyn-Italian accent, and it was all I could do to keep from running, far far away, to the depths of Arkansaw or Wisconsin where no Mafia Man would ever find me again.
*"Eyy..."*
Then my daughter spoke. She had the voice of an angel, a perfectly neutral accent borne from generations of living in a state without the horror of regional dialects, the way God intended. "Daddy," she cried, pure and sweet save for the stain of abject terror which gripped her from underneath her resting place.
"Daddy, he scares me!" she cried. "Make the mobster go away!"
"I'll do my best," I said, finding my voice even as the smell of expensive liquor aerated from the Mafia Man's glass and hit my nose. It smelled of gambling and illicit loans, and my stomach heaved. "Now Sue, this is very important. What has he said to you?"
"I... I don't want to say it!"
"I know, baby, I know." And then I wanted so badly to wrap my arms around her, to tell her everything would be okay, to hold her close in my arms and forget the world where Mafia Men lurked in the shadows with their hired goons and their Tommy guns. But I could not. I saw, laid underneath the four legs of her cot, a traditional Italian rug, covered with dust and well-trampled as though it had been there for ages. It was a rug used to transport bodies, after their spirits had passed from them and they were on their way to be dumped in the Hudson River. I could not set foot on that rug. It would be the end of my days on this earth, and worse yet, I would curse my wife to the torture of being looked after by the man who killed me. They would call it a courtesy, a twisted apology of sorts that Mafia Men were always obligated to do.
They would know true fear.
I found the strength to speak again, to be brave for my daughter. "I need to know. There is a way to remove his presence from the house, but I have to know everything he told you."
She wavered, for only a moment, but knowing that the end of the Mafia Man's presence was nigh, she found the courage to speak. "First, he said, 'Well, aren't you a doll.' He offered me a quarter, and said he had a son just my age, and we might be playmates."
"And you refused him?"
"I did, Daddy."
This was a good start. A Mafia Man's boy would be nothing but trouble. When he was young, he would pull on her pigtails and refuse to play house. Then he would grow up, and steal from his father's liquor cabinet, and offer my sweet, precious Sue a taste.
"And then what did he say?"
"He said there had been some nasty criminals on the loose, and 'wouldn't it be a shame if a bunch of men came into my fine shop and started busting up windows?' He said it just like that."
I shook my head. The Mafia Man was offering "protection." It was a cheap tactic; you were damned if you did accept and damned if you did not. But I knew that refusing his offer was the best recourse. He might return in a day (after having "busted" said windows), but I would have time to prepare a more permanent deterrent.
Then another smell hit me. And another. A whole cacophony of olives, onions, ripe tomatoes, and cured meats. Sue smelled it as well.
"Daddy," she sighed, all at once disturbedly calm, "I smell pizza."
"NO!" I yelled. "Cover your nose, Sue!" For it was not the friendly scent of pizza, that old American pastime adapted for Americans as a symbol of peace and prosperity in The Great Melting Pot. This was a foreigner's food. An *old family recipe,* the Mafia Man might say.
*Spaghetti and meatballs.*
Sue's face took on a dreamy haze as hints of garlic and ground beef wafted upward from underneath the bed. Food has always been a child's greatest weakness. It holds great power over even the strongest, most hardened of men. From where she sat it was a wonder she hadn't passed out in exuberation over the accursed meal. But then, it had obviously been tailor-made to woo her, and her alone. If I had not been there, she might have fallen, and the rest of the family would have followed in her wake, malicious and deliberate.
I gripped my nose tightly, pinching the nostrils closed and taking only the most shallow of breaths. There was only one option now, the most dangerous of them all. It had to be done. As my daughter reveled in the sweet misery of an authentic Italian home-cooked refection, I collected my willpower and set it all forth to laying foot upon the dusty rug.
| *Thunk Thunk Thunk*
My eyes open as soon as the sound of light tapping hits my ears.
“Dada, there’s a mobster under my bed.”
I sigh in resignation, and turn over. They say that parenthood can be utter hell, and one of the worst parts is lack of sleep. Everyone says that babies cry throughout the night, but that it gets better. Bullshit. Four year olds don’t cry, but they sure as hell don’t sleep. This was the fifth night in a row that I’ve been awoken from my much needed slumber to attend to my little girl. I love her to pieces, but goddamit daddy needs some sleep.
“Go back to bed, sweet pea,” I say, trying to keep my voice firm yet unaggressive. I don’t like yelling at my daughter, even if every sleep-deprived nerve in my body is telling me to. I always promised I’d be a better father than my own.
“But Dada,” she begins.
“Get!” I cut her off, motioning weakly with my left hand. I didn’t mean to punctuate the word, but I feel asleep at a weird angle, right on top of my arm, and it had grown numb; I needed to shake some life back into it.
“OK,” Lizzy says simply, and patters back ton her bedroom.
I yawn deeply and toss, trying to find a comfortable position, but it’s no use: my pillow is hot, the sheets are twisted, and my bladder is going to explode. I dragged myself out of bed and indulge in a luxurious stretch right before I had down the hall to the bathroom.
I notice that the light in Lizzy’s room is still on, and a crease forms on my lips. My little cutie pie was a sweet girl, but this night-time waking was getting out of hand. Monster tonight, babbling about concrete shoes last night, and then something about sleeping with fishes the night before.
I stumbled in the dark until I found the toilet, raised the lid, and let it rain. As I was doing my business, I idly wondered if this was just a phase that all pre-schoolers go through, or if it was a sign of a deeper problem. I mean, all of these little nightmares might mean she was dealing with some serious anxiety. It had been two years since her mother had died, and I doubt she even remembered Sarah, but could it be signs of childhood loss? I’d need to speak to Ross.
I finished up and as I was flushing I heard something to make my hair stand end, a sound no father wants to hear coming from the room of his small daughter in the middle of the night: the voice of an unknown man. I’d have pissed myself, if I hadn’t just finished.
My daddy instincts kick into overdrive. I grabb the first object I could find and burst into my daughters room, horrified of what I’d find.
“Who the fuck are you!?” I screamed, flailing the toilet plunger madly.
My daughter was at her miniature table, with her porcelain tea set. She had created a mock tea for three, with herself, Floppsy the bunny and….some guy.
He looked startled, but quickly composed himself. He was a middle aged man. His dark hair was graying and smoothed back with pomade, and his suit looked like it cost about a thousand dollars. Even sitting, I could tell he wasn’t very tall, but the tiny flowered tea cup he was clutching in his hands made him look like a giant.
“Who the fuck are you!?” I bellowed again, inching closer. I didn’t want to make any sudden movements, in case he was deranged and had a knife--I couldn’t risk my little girl getting hurt—but I also knew I had to get her to safety.
The man had an oily grin. He put the tea cup down primly, and began to rise.
“Stay where you are!” I shouted, “I have a gun!”
Of course, I didn’t have a gun, nor was there anywhere I could be hiding it if I had, considering I was standing their in naught but my boxer shorts. My only weapon at hand was a plunger, with I still held outwards, towards the mysterious stranger.
The man didn’t challenge me, but raised his hands slightly, in a placating gesture, and with a calm smile sat back down.
“Elizabeth, come over here sweety, come to daddy” I said, tightly. The blood was rushing in my ears, and my heart was in my throat. My baby. If anything should happen, if—“
My reveries were broken by Lizzy’s squeaky little voice.
“Dada! Stop being mean to my fwiend. We’re having a tea pahty!”
I gaped at her, bemused.
“You can join too, Dada, but no more shouting,” she said, using the same tone of voice that I adopt when I tell her she could have two and only two cookies.
“You can sit here, Dada,” she said, motioning to the final space at her kiddy table, across from her beloved stuffed bunny.
*The fuck?* My daddy instincts falter slightly, as I try to take in what the hell is happening.
I have no idea what’s going on here, but you know what, I don’t care. There’s a strange man in my daughter’s bedroom.
“Elizabeth Lauren Jackson, you get over here right now!” I say, adding every incld of parental authority I can muster into the command.
It works and she runs over. I shove her behind me, to make sure she’s safe.
“Now just who the he—“ I began yelling at the man.
“Please, Mr. Jackson. There’s really no need for this,” the man says. He stands and smoothes his expensive suit.
“Please, I have no intention of harming your daughter. Quite the opposite, actually. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Quentin Farelli, “ he says, looking at me expectantly.
“I don’t give a flying fuck who you are, I’m going to call the po…po…” I don’t finish the sentence, because another thought has intruded into my mind. Quentin Farelli, of the East Side Farellis. With dawning horror, I realize that I’m face to face with an infamous mob boss.
The color drains from my face.
“Why are you here?” I ask, with rising fright. I’m shaking like a leaf, and can hardly contain myself. An unbidden visions comes to me; tomorrow’s paper with headline **Lake County Man and Daughter Found Slain in Mob-Style Execution**.
“Relax,” Farelli says, in a soothing tone.
“What do you want?” I ask desperately, and cringe to hear the helpless desperation in my voice.
“Honestly?” he says, “What I want is a tea party.”
“A tea party?” I repeat, incredulously.
“That’s right,” he says simply.
“Why in the world would want a tea party with my daughter. This is insane! And how the hell did you get in here anyway?”
Farelli stretches, and then sits himself back down at the kiddie tea table. He pours himself a very, very small cup of juice from the play tea pot, and sips with all the cu-courtesy and gravitas of having tea with the Queen Mother herself.
“C’mon, take a seat,” he says, cajolingly.
“I’ll stand,” I retort.
Farelli shrugs and then dips an animal cracker into his juice.
“Ya see, Mr. Jackson, a man like, well let’s just say I’m a busy man. My day is full of work. And sometimes work can get a bit…intense,” he says.
“Intense. Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” I said derisively.
“We all got a job to do, Mr. Jackson,” he replied, with a “what can you do” sort of shrug.
“A man like me is used to this…intensity. But sometimes, it takes a toll, you know. I am only human after all, despite what the papers like to write. And so, sometimes busy men need breaks. We need time away from our work, time to reconnect.”
He picked up a play-doh flower that graced Lizzy’s kiddy table.
“Time to stop and smell the roses, as it were.”
He smiled and winked at Lizzy, who giggled behind me.
“Your daughter, Mr. Jackson, is providing me a valuable service—and really good juice,” he says, pouring himself another tiny cup.
“Damn this is good. You squeeze this yourself?”
I stare at him, dumfounded. The toilet plunger that I’m holding now hangs limply by my side.
“How did you get in here?” I ask, trying to get a handle on the situation.
| |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | “Sweetheart, can you go and see your mother for a moment and tell her that you need to snuggle in our bed for a little bit?”
Amy runs out of the room towards the master, and the waiting arms of her mother.
I call for Jimmy and Little Nicky “Hey Jimmy and Little Nicky, can you come in here please?”
Both Jimmy and Little Nicky lumber into the room, specks of their dinner still showing on their suit jackets.
“Jimmy and Little Nicky, is Pedo Pete with you downstairs?”
Jimmy looks at Little Nicky and slowly shrugs his shoulders. “We have not seen him for the past few hours boss.”
“He said that he had some business to take care of and excused himself, and left the office around three.” Added Little Nicky.
Looking them both in the eyes, I make sure I have their attention. “Ok, you twos I want you to get him out from under my daughters bed, and take him down to the wine cellar and put him in the chair. This is the last straw.”
Jimmy and Little Nicky rush forward and drag Pedo Pete from under the bed.
He comes out… face white as a ghost… not a word is said, but his eyes are wide with fear.
I go to my bedroom to calm my daughter and wife. I look in and see them both asleep, my daughter resting on my pillow, with my wife’s arm draped over her. Their chests rising and falling, while they are dreaming.
I put on my Grundens rain gear, rubber gloves, and my grab my Exacto knife and pasta maker, and head for the cellar. It is going to be a long, long night…
| *Thunk Thunk Thunk*
My eyes open as soon as the sound of light tapping hits my ears.
“Dada, there’s a mobster under my bed.”
I sigh in resignation, and turn over. They say that parenthood can be utter hell, and one of the worst parts is lack of sleep. Everyone says that babies cry throughout the night, but that it gets better. Bullshit. Four year olds don’t cry, but they sure as hell don’t sleep. This was the fifth night in a row that I’ve been awoken from my much needed slumber to attend to my little girl. I love her to pieces, but goddamit daddy needs some sleep.
“Go back to bed, sweet pea,” I say, trying to keep my voice firm yet unaggressive. I don’t like yelling at my daughter, even if every sleep-deprived nerve in my body is telling me to. I always promised I’d be a better father than my own.
“But Dada,” she begins.
“Get!” I cut her off, motioning weakly with my left hand. I didn’t mean to punctuate the word, but I feel asleep at a weird angle, right on top of my arm, and it had grown numb; I needed to shake some life back into it.
“OK,” Lizzy says simply, and patters back ton her bedroom.
I yawn deeply and toss, trying to find a comfortable position, but it’s no use: my pillow is hot, the sheets are twisted, and my bladder is going to explode. I dragged myself out of bed and indulge in a luxurious stretch right before I had down the hall to the bathroom.
I notice that the light in Lizzy’s room is still on, and a crease forms on my lips. My little cutie pie was a sweet girl, but this night-time waking was getting out of hand. Monster tonight, babbling about concrete shoes last night, and then something about sleeping with fishes the night before.
I stumbled in the dark until I found the toilet, raised the lid, and let it rain. As I was doing my business, I idly wondered if this was just a phase that all pre-schoolers go through, or if it was a sign of a deeper problem. I mean, all of these little nightmares might mean she was dealing with some serious anxiety. It had been two years since her mother had died, and I doubt she even remembered Sarah, but could it be signs of childhood loss? I’d need to speak to Ross.
I finished up and as I was flushing I heard something to make my hair stand end, a sound no father wants to hear coming from the room of his small daughter in the middle of the night: the voice of an unknown man. I’d have pissed myself, if I hadn’t just finished.
My daddy instincts kick into overdrive. I grabb the first object I could find and burst into my daughters room, horrified of what I’d find.
“Who the fuck are you!?” I screamed, flailing the toilet plunger madly.
My daughter was at her miniature table, with her porcelain tea set. She had created a mock tea for three, with herself, Floppsy the bunny and….some guy.
He looked startled, but quickly composed himself. He was a middle aged man. His dark hair was graying and smoothed back with pomade, and his suit looked like it cost about a thousand dollars. Even sitting, I could tell he wasn’t very tall, but the tiny flowered tea cup he was clutching in his hands made him look like a giant.
“Who the fuck are you!?” I bellowed again, inching closer. I didn’t want to make any sudden movements, in case he was deranged and had a knife--I couldn’t risk my little girl getting hurt—but I also knew I had to get her to safety.
The man had an oily grin. He put the tea cup down primly, and began to rise.
“Stay where you are!” I shouted, “I have a gun!”
Of course, I didn’t have a gun, nor was there anywhere I could be hiding it if I had, considering I was standing their in naught but my boxer shorts. My only weapon at hand was a plunger, with I still held outwards, towards the mysterious stranger.
The man didn’t challenge me, but raised his hands slightly, in a placating gesture, and with a calm smile sat back down.
“Elizabeth, come over here sweety, come to daddy” I said, tightly. The blood was rushing in my ears, and my heart was in my throat. My baby. If anything should happen, if—“
My reveries were broken by Lizzy’s squeaky little voice.
“Dada! Stop being mean to my fwiend. We’re having a tea pahty!”
I gaped at her, bemused.
“You can join too, Dada, but no more shouting,” she said, using the same tone of voice that I adopt when I tell her she could have two and only two cookies.
“You can sit here, Dada,” she said, motioning to the final space at her kiddy table, across from her beloved stuffed bunny.
*The fuck?* My daddy instincts falter slightly, as I try to take in what the hell is happening.
I have no idea what’s going on here, but you know what, I don’t care. There’s a strange man in my daughter’s bedroom.
“Elizabeth Lauren Jackson, you get over here right now!” I say, adding every incld of parental authority I can muster into the command.
It works and she runs over. I shove her behind me, to make sure she’s safe.
“Now just who the he—“ I began yelling at the man.
“Please, Mr. Jackson. There’s really no need for this,” the man says. He stands and smoothes his expensive suit.
“Please, I have no intention of harming your daughter. Quite the opposite, actually. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Quentin Farelli, “ he says, looking at me expectantly.
“I don’t give a flying fuck who you are, I’m going to call the po…po…” I don’t finish the sentence, because another thought has intruded into my mind. Quentin Farelli, of the East Side Farellis. With dawning horror, I realize that I’m face to face with an infamous mob boss.
The color drains from my face.
“Why are you here?” I ask, with rising fright. I’m shaking like a leaf, and can hardly contain myself. An unbidden visions comes to me; tomorrow’s paper with headline **Lake County Man and Daughter Found Slain in Mob-Style Execution**.
“Relax,” Farelli says, in a soothing tone.
“What do you want?” I ask desperately, and cringe to hear the helpless desperation in my voice.
“Honestly?” he says, “What I want is a tea party.”
“A tea party?” I repeat, incredulously.
“That’s right,” he says simply.
“Why in the world would want a tea party with my daughter. This is insane! And how the hell did you get in here anyway?”
Farelli stretches, and then sits himself back down at the kiddie tea table. He pours himself a very, very small cup of juice from the play tea pot, and sips with all the cu-courtesy and gravitas of having tea with the Queen Mother herself.
“C’mon, take a seat,” he says, cajolingly.
“I’ll stand,” I retort.
Farelli shrugs and then dips an animal cracker into his juice.
“Ya see, Mr. Jackson, a man like, well let’s just say I’m a busy man. My day is full of work. And sometimes work can get a bit…intense,” he says.
“Intense. Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” I said derisively.
“We all got a job to do, Mr. Jackson,” he replied, with a “what can you do” sort of shrug.
“A man like me is used to this…intensity. But sometimes, it takes a toll, you know. I am only human after all, despite what the papers like to write. And so, sometimes busy men need breaks. We need time away from our work, time to reconnect.”
He picked up a play-doh flower that graced Lizzy’s kiddy table.
“Time to stop and smell the roses, as it were.”
He smiled and winked at Lizzy, who giggled behind me.
“Your daughter, Mr. Jackson, is providing me a valuable service—and really good juice,” he says, pouring himself another tiny cup.
“Damn this is good. You squeeze this yourself?”
I stare at him, dumfounded. The toilet plunger that I’m holding now hangs limply by my side.
“How did you get in here?” I ask, trying to get a handle on the situation.
| |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | “Sweetheart, can you go and see your mother for a moment and tell her that you need to snuggle in our bed for a little bit?”
Amy runs out of the room towards the master, and the waiting arms of her mother.
I call for Jimmy and Little Nicky “Hey Jimmy and Little Nicky, can you come in here please?”
Both Jimmy and Little Nicky lumber into the room, specks of their dinner still showing on their suit jackets.
“Jimmy and Little Nicky, is Pedo Pete with you downstairs?”
Jimmy looks at Little Nicky and slowly shrugs his shoulders. “We have not seen him for the past few hours boss.”
“He said that he had some business to take care of and excused himself, and left the office around three.” Added Little Nicky.
Looking them both in the eyes, I make sure I have their attention. “Ok, you twos I want you to get him out from under my daughters bed, and take him down to the wine cellar and put him in the chair. This is the last straw.”
Jimmy and Little Nicky rush forward and drag Pedo Pete from under the bed.
He comes out… face white as a ghost… not a word is said, but his eyes are wide with fear.
I go to my bedroom to calm my daughter and wife. I look in and see them both asleep, my daughter resting on my pillow, with my wife’s arm draped over her. Their chests rising and falling, while they are dreaming.
I put on my Grundens rain gear, rubber gloves, and my grab my Exacto knife and pasta maker, and head for the cellar. It is going to be a long, long night…
| As you're tucking your daughter in, you hear a heavy breathing. A hefty cough comes from under the bed and you jump back, your arms raised in defense.
Suddenly, a voice comes. "Wiseguy, gimme a frickin' hand oudda here."
A hand in a white sleeve reaches out and you bend down and drag out a fat mobster, who seems to have taken too much drink.
"Ahhh... dis ain't my car..." he moans. He dusts himself off and stands up, crookedly.
"Paulie, how ya' doin'?" he asks, and stretches out his hand. You take his hand in an awkward grip and shake it slowly.
You say your name, before guiding him out of your daughter's bedroom. You take him to the kitchen and set on a pot of coffee on your stove.
You ask him why he was underneath your daughter's bed.
"Well," began the mobster, before clouds of smoke pass by into what appears to be a flashback.
"I wuz wid my buddies, we wuz a' dis club, when suddenly, I hear frickin' sirens, right? I seein' all dese red 'n' blue lights pourin' inna dah club. The bartendah starts screamin' 'PIGS' an' suddenly we's all runnin' 'round the place. I kick down da door an' climb ovah the fence. Suddenly, a pig comes sprintin' down d'alley aftah me so I throws dis box ad' him. 'Bout a minute latah, I seen yah house. Thought it was empty but 'ventually I heard ya and yah daughtah so I tried ta hide undah yuh bed."
The smoke passed yet again, letting you know you're now back into the present.
You are now scared about harboring a fugitive but you decide not to mess with the mob. You place a steaming cup of coffee down beside the mobster before taking your own seat. You munch on biscuits and offer some to the mobster who declines. Suddenly, sirens beckoned outside and the mobster stood up, revolver in his hand. He hastily pushed bullets into the revolver.
"Ged oudda the way!" he screams as he pushes you aside. You open up your cabinet, taking out a shotgun and push your own shells into it. You sprint to the door and find it wide open, with the cops crouched over their cars, pistols aimed at you. You drop your shotgun and tell them there was someone in you house, and they proceed to drop their guns and approach cautiously.
--The Next Night--
A man is tucking his daughter into bed, when suddenly... he hears heavy breathing...
| |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | “Sweetheart, can you go and see your mother for a moment and tell her that you need to snuggle in our bed for a little bit?”
Amy runs out of the room towards the master, and the waiting arms of her mother.
I call for Jimmy and Little Nicky “Hey Jimmy and Little Nicky, can you come in here please?”
Both Jimmy and Little Nicky lumber into the room, specks of their dinner still showing on their suit jackets.
“Jimmy and Little Nicky, is Pedo Pete with you downstairs?”
Jimmy looks at Little Nicky and slowly shrugs his shoulders. “We have not seen him for the past few hours boss.”
“He said that he had some business to take care of and excused himself, and left the office around three.” Added Little Nicky.
Looking them both in the eyes, I make sure I have their attention. “Ok, you twos I want you to get him out from under my daughters bed, and take him down to the wine cellar and put him in the chair. This is the last straw.”
Jimmy and Little Nicky rush forward and drag Pedo Pete from under the bed.
He comes out… face white as a ghost… not a word is said, but his eyes are wide with fear.
I go to my bedroom to calm my daughter and wife. I look in and see them both asleep, my daughter resting on my pillow, with my wife’s arm draped over her. Their chests rising and falling, while they are dreaming.
I put on my Grundens rain gear, rubber gloves, and my grab my Exacto knife and pasta maker, and head for the cellar. It is going to be a long, long night…
| Joey" two cannoli" Tofutti had worked a lot of markets to make the monthly vig to the Capo for the Boss, burying cars for insurance, the assorted dealings in drug and gun running, prostitution rings and the old standby, running the numbers game. It was Marie Contessa his bag woman for the gambling receipts who clued him in to the tween snap band market. "it's fuckin' huge Joey hell the resell on it is worth the work - look at fuckin' Ebay hey." The edge on the vig was there but with two Federal priors and a current investigation to the pokemon extortion racket he couldn't risk jacking a semi rig full of them, better to milk a secondary market lower risk and steady stream of income would be the ideal but nothing prepared him for the work ahead.Joey "two Cannoli" Tofutti had never had girls in his family and no clue at the possibilities of disorganization and chaos to be found in their rooms. To a guy who sinks .22 bullets into skulls as an aspect of work a certain organizing principle has to be attained or you will sink your own ship, you want to dig the ditch for the other guy not your own and nothing said doom to organization in a room like a girl getting hormones built up in her day by dizzying day. Cold February had rolled in, the Patriots upset his spread on the game and now things were on edge for in 23 days the Vig was due and Joey Tofutti, fan of all things cannoli was on the hook for it to Tito "clean hits" Garofalo. Animal print slap bracelets, Hanmei basic black hair bands and the ever popular Snappee Extra Soft Hairbands were piled deep in the recesses of millions of rooms across the country, a slow motion super fund site of processed oil waiting for plunder. | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | *Click*
"Well then." There was a gun in my face. This was a new twist of events in my nightly ritual of scaring monsters from under my daughter Libby's bed.
Behind the barrel of the gun was a frightened looking Asian man covered in tattoos. Distantly I noted that he was screaming at me in a language that I didn't quite understand, speckled with bits of English that seemed to be swearing.
"Excuse me, slow down please" He screamed at me and waved the gun violently. I put my hands up defensively and Libby giggled behind me. I imagine I looked quite funny, laying on my side peering under her bed with my hands put up in front of me like some weird rabbit. At that point I was just happy my seven year old hadn't seen the gun.
The man spat another string of his language that seemed to inflect like a question, too bad I didn't understand him. When I shrugged he pressed the gun at me and then, defeated by my stupidity apparently, he fell back against the floor, staring into the underside of the twin waterproof mattress.
While he was wallowing in self pity, and muttering to himself, I was still coming to grips with the idea this was really happening. He was quite young it seemed, probably early twenties with well groomed hair and a clean angular face. His tattoos were clearly visible on his bare arms and I could see the lines of others under his tank top, on the bottom he wore suit pants, and I could see the sheen of patent leather shoes from the foot of Libby's bed.
Suddenly he was slammed into the mattress, underneath him half of a person had appeared, the other half was somewhere beyond the realm of my upstairs floor. The new man apparently realized this and started screaming, this caused the first man to start screaming and cursing and brandishing his gun. Without thinking I reached in and shoved the man on top, he didn't move much but it did earn me a light tap with the pistol as he swung his arms around to maintain his balance. Under him the other man was still screaming, his eyes were wide with pain or fear, I wasn't sure, but probably both. I was at a loss until the screaming man pulled his fist back into oblivion and slammed it forward, punching the angry man in the kidney, knocking the wind out of him. Taking my chance, I shoved the stunned guy off of his screaming assailant and I reached in to take the now reaching hands.
With a kick I spun myself on the wooden floor to brace my feet against the legs of the bed frame. Internally I counted to three, listening to the strained breathing of the first man as I pulled the second out of my floorboards with all my might.
---
His name was Kenichi and he spoke perfect English, when he wasn't screaming and punishing his subordinates.
After I had pulled him from under the bed he had proceeded to vomit and attack the younger man, a little bit at the same time. Needless to say, my daughter's room was a disaster, for which Kenichi had apologized, while the younger man attempted to staunch a nosebleed that was dripping onto my floor. His name was Makoto I had learned through a jumbled introduction, and what I had assumed was an apology for waving a gun in my face.
Now we sat at my kitchen table drinking tea, me in stunned silence as Makoto made monkey faces with Libby and had even given her permission to address him familiarly. Kenichi sipped his tea peacefully at the table. Neither had any idea how they had gotten under my daughter's bed in the middle of Virginia.
Kenichi had identified himself and Makoto as Japanese, and without saying he was clearly the younger man's superior. He wore a tailored suit in a dark gray and a black button up closed to his throat, the tie was missing. While he sipped his tea I noticed tattoos similar to those on the younger man peeking out from under his sleeves. As if hearing my thoughts Libby turned her large blue eyes on Makoto.
"Mako-kun, did those hurt?" Her small hand touched the tail of a dragon on his wrist and he looked to Kenichi for a moment and spat out a string of Japanese. The older man looked like his disapproved but he translated the question and Makoto's response.
"Yes, they hurt because instead of a quick needling gun, we use sharp sticks to put the ink under our skin. The process is very painful, and can take many years to complete." Libby looked at Makoto in awe as her eyes darted along his covered arms and throat.
"Do you have tattoos everywhere?!" Kenichi almost spat tea on me and Makoto turned an attractive shade of red when he was asked in a way he could understand.
"No Libby, he doesn't yet. But eventually he probably will." She looked at Kenichi and at his suit covered arms and neck.
"Mr. Kenichi, do YOU have tattoos? Mommy has a couple, she has one on her.." I managed to reach across the table and put a finger across her mouth.
"TMI baby." Kenichi was laughing again and I fought the urge to crawl under the table.
"Yes Libby, I have many tattoos."
"More than Mako-kun?" He nodded his salt and pepper head and Libby went silent with wider eyes than before, if that were possible.
I took this opportunity to tell her that it was late and that she needed to go curl up in my bed. It was still a school night after all.
When she had been tucked in I sat back at the table with my uninvited guests. Both had lost their friendly overtone for the most part, and looked completely businesslike when I returned.
"So. What are we going to do gentlemen, I can't have Japanese gangsters appearing in my apartment in the middle of the night." Kenichi smiled, like I imagine a shark might.
"And why not? I'm sure we could compensate you handsomely for providing a safe house for us?"
I snorted.
"I must look like a moron. You came out from under my daughter's bed. YOU!" I pointed at Makoto and he recoiled like I had bitten him. "YOU! Could have KILLED us. No, Kenichi, I don't think that will work for us, I have Libby to think about. I'm sure you understand." I wasn't sure, I was talking out of my ass. These two could easily get rid of me, and Libby.
"I assure you I understand, but, I can't have you just running around without supervision. I'm sure YOU understand my concerns."
"You think I'm a snitch." He tilted his head.
"It would be irresponsible of me if I didn't." I could understand that. Loose ends were a no no for these people. But he also wasn't heartless, and didn't really want to hurt my little girl, or me.
"You see Holly, my hands are quite tied."
Makoto muttered something in Japanese and Kenichi looked thoughtful.
"That may work. Holly." I perked up from my thoughts of having a revolving roster of Asian mobsters in my apartment.
"What if I bought out your lease? And then gave you enough to live comfortably away from here." There was a catch, that was too good of an offer.
"I would love that, but what's the trade Satan? Seriously, that's a devil's offer right there." He laughed loudly at me.
"I like you, it would be a shame to kill you. Especially since you could have easily called the police while I was stuck in the floor, and you helped me instead." I hadn't really thought of it that way, but I knew the offer was still bullshit, and full of holes.
"Cool, I like you too. But that didn't really answer my question. That is a lot of money to just give me because you like my jokes and think my kid is cute." I sipped my tea, it was cold now.
"Fair. You would be required to live with a guardian, one of my subordinates who will be there for your protection."
"And to make sure I don't run my mouth." I took another sip of my gross tea feeling like I was in an epic face off in a spy novel.
He nodded with his shark's smile.
"So?"
"I don't have much of a choice. That's the best option by far." Another nod from him.
"Where would you and Libby like to live?"
---
The view of Vienna was breathtaking. Flowering trees and lush blooming plants lined the bustling streets. Brightly dressed and laughing people skipped down the sidewalks and the smell of flowers and coffee wafted from the shops below our new home.
After a month of planning, and a whirlwind of new faces, courtesy of Kenichi,Libby and I had arrived to a fully furnished two story apartment in the heart of Vienna. The furniture was light wood and covered in intricate carvings and soft pale cushions. Libby's room was a masterpiece, with fantastic murals covering we walls and a bed fit for a princess. Kenichi had really outdone himself.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of our guardian and keeper. I assumed it would be a woman for the sake of propriety, so needless to say I let out a small shriek when I opened the door.
"Sup." Makoto leaned against the door frame, a bag slung over his shoulder.
"Where's my room?"
---
Thanks for reading! Any comments are greatly appreciated! | Joey" two cannoli" Tofutti had worked a lot of markets to make the monthly vig to the Capo for the Boss, burying cars for insurance, the assorted dealings in drug and gun running, prostitution rings and the old standby, running the numbers game. It was Marie Contessa his bag woman for the gambling receipts who clued him in to the tween snap band market. "it's fuckin' huge Joey hell the resell on it is worth the work - look at fuckin' Ebay hey." The edge on the vig was there but with two Federal priors and a current investigation to the pokemon extortion racket he couldn't risk jacking a semi rig full of them, better to milk a secondary market lower risk and steady stream of income would be the ideal but nothing prepared him for the work ahead.Joey "two Cannoli" Tofutti had never had girls in his family and no clue at the possibilities of disorganization and chaos to be found in their rooms. To a guy who sinks .22 bullets into skulls as an aspect of work a certain organizing principle has to be attained or you will sink your own ship, you want to dig the ditch for the other guy not your own and nothing said doom to organization in a room like a girl getting hormones built up in her day by dizzying day. Cold February had rolled in, the Patriots upset his spread on the game and now things were on edge for in 23 days the Vig was due and Joey Tofutti, fan of all things cannoli was on the hook for it to Tito "clean hits" Garofalo. Animal print slap bracelets, Hanmei basic black hair bands and the ever popular Snappee Extra Soft Hairbands were piled deep in the recesses of millions of rooms across the country, a slow motion super fund site of processed oil waiting for plunder. | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | “Sweetheart, can you go and see your mother for a moment and tell her that you need to snuggle in our bed for a little bit?”
Amy runs out of the room towards the master, and the waiting arms of her mother.
I call for Jimmy and Little Nicky “Hey Jimmy and Little Nicky, can you come in here please?”
Both Jimmy and Little Nicky lumber into the room, specks of their dinner still showing on their suit jackets.
“Jimmy and Little Nicky, is Pedo Pete with you downstairs?”
Jimmy looks at Little Nicky and slowly shrugs his shoulders. “We have not seen him for the past few hours boss.”
“He said that he had some business to take care of and excused himself, and left the office around three.” Added Little Nicky.
Looking them both in the eyes, I make sure I have their attention. “Ok, you twos I want you to get him out from under my daughters bed, and take him down to the wine cellar and put him in the chair. This is the last straw.”
Jimmy and Little Nicky rush forward and drag Pedo Pete from under the bed.
He comes out… face white as a ghost… not a word is said, but his eyes are wide with fear.
I go to my bedroom to calm my daughter and wife. I look in and see them both asleep, my daughter resting on my pillow, with my wife’s arm draped over her. Their chests rising and falling, while they are dreaming.
I put on my Grundens rain gear, rubber gloves, and my grab my Exacto knife and pasta maker, and head for the cellar. It is going to be a long, long night…
| A loud crashing sound broke the dark silence of the parking lot, followed by glass shards clinking on the asphalt concrete. A large, old, metallic chest of drawers, like the one people used to have long ago to store paper documents, smashed on the ground.
Seven floors up, as he fell through the cold, midnight air, Ian wondered if he had remembered to fully charge his High-Rise Fall Belt. Probably not the best time to have remembered that. It beeped loudly and repeatedly as he neared the ground. He felt his body flip up like a doll, balancing. A strong inertial vibration ran up his waist. He felt nauseous for a second. Then the slow, hovering descent to the ground.
“Hurry”, he thought.
He looked up. A black silhouette looked down from the opening of the broken window. Ian ripped open the buttons on his shirt, he reached in, looking for the velcro strap. Other side. He ripped it off and fell on his knee.
Ignore the pain. Run.
A bullet ricocheted off a vehicle in front of him. It was the second time in his life he had ever been shot at. The first was five minutes ago when he had stayed back late to secretly clear out his desk and suddenly saw a figure at the far, dark end of the office point a gun and fire at him, but miss. He didn’t see the face very well, but he knew why the killer was there.
Ian ran from the parking lot towards the river, towards the city lights beyond the trees. The velcro strap still wrapped loosely around his abdomen. The path on the edge of the river was lined with gloomy orange lamps. He ran towards the darkness beneath the bridge to his right. When he turned back, his stalker emerged from the bushes.
He pressed himself to the wall, hoping the shadows could envelope him for moment to flee, and he quickly slid around the corner and back up to the safe darkness beneath the trees. He ran, but this time when he turned back, there was no one.
The streets were empty. The air was icy. He felt a tenderness on his knee, and sweat beads on his forehead. He was breathing too quickly. Get home. Just get home. Run.
He had run far.
A stronger, colder breeze swept around his body and he heard a distant storm rumble. He stopped in front a filthy-looking house, it’s colour faded away from acid rain. The city lights now far behind. Holding on to a railing fence, he bent down to catch his breath. Two more blocks. Just two more blocks.
A large mechanical body in a whirlwind of lights and buzzing surprised him as he turned a corner. A red light scanned his body, but the hulking machine turned away and ignored him. Just a street sweeper.
Continuing, he decided to take the shortcut behind the bakery. Get in through the back, he thought. Fortunately, the large bin was out the back tonight. He pulled his shirt off and removed the Fall Belt, leaving only his singlet. He climbed up, on top of the bakery, to the small, rusty emergency ladder behind his apartment building. He should be quieter.
He peered in through the window. Stacy was asleep in her small bed. Her solar-powered night light glowing. He tapped gently, several times. She opened her eyes and looked at him. He smiled. After a moment, she got up and opened the window and he climbed in.
“What are you doing there, silly? You scared me.”
He gave her a big hug.
“Why are you sweating?”
“Sorry, sweetie. I don’t have time to explain. We’re leaving.”
He let her sit back in bed and grabbed her backpack and a few things from her closet.
“Dad, what is it?”
“Just pack your bag. Put your shoes on.” He disappeared down the dark hallway.
Several minutes later, Ian and Stacy were walking down the street, with their backpacks, away from the city. He looked back regularly, wondering if he heard something odd in the bushes. A car drove by. He pulled the string of his hooded jacket to hide his face more, and covered Stacy’s ears well with her beanie.
Perhaps he could’ve planned some kind of getaway before he had anonymously reported the event to authorities over the phone. The whole reporting process, he had considered too lightly.
He was an accountant. Not many these days. The digital revolution meant that most jobs were now automated, and everything was connected. Most shady businesses dealt with human workers for most things that were normally hooked up to the internet. Fully automated but online accounting software was used widely by businesses throughout the city. People well-versed in specific areas, like accounting, were hard to find.
He had been asked by his employer to do some overtime at the back-office of a warehouse that the company owned. He had heard a few strange noises later in the night and decide to explore their origin. Peering from behind some crates, he saw some of his employer’s business partners gathered around some frightened, scantily-clad women, who were promptly shot.
Away from the city now, and with houses and lights becoming scarce. Ian remembered the old, run-down hotel near the edge of the town. They would stay there, and figure out their next move in the morning. Fortunately, he still had some cash on him.
After paying for the lodging, they made their way to the designated room. Ian watched a woman with keys down the hallway with suspicion as he carried the asleep-again Stacy in his arms. The woman didn’t notice him. They went into the room, and Ian placed his daughter on the smaller bed, and went over to the window to peer through the curtains.
Silence.
After ensuring the door was locked for a second time, Ian switched off all the lights and went over to the larger, empty bed and laid down. A while later, the creaking of wood outside the door startled him, but he saw nothing, just a sliver of light under the door. He sat up quickly in half-sleeping state. He had been remembering the stories he had heard from some work colleagues, about frightening-looking “security” the company was rumoured to employ to take care of “business”—possible remnants of old time Mafia henchmen, or just stupid office stories.
Rubbing his eyes, Ian looked up and saw his daughter standing before him in the moonlight from a half-open window.
“What’s wrong, darling?”
Then and there he had realised what was wrong. And, as he leaned in to hug her, his eyes widened in fear—a dark figure with a knife emerged from the shadows behind her. The gentle moonlight falling upon gruesome features. He held his daughter tightly as she rested her chin on his shoulder and whispered in his ear.
“Daddy, there’s a mobster under my bed.” | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | “Sweetheart, can you go and see your mother for a moment and tell her that you need to snuggle in our bed for a little bit?”
Amy runs out of the room towards the master, and the waiting arms of her mother.
I call for Jimmy and Little Nicky “Hey Jimmy and Little Nicky, can you come in here please?”
Both Jimmy and Little Nicky lumber into the room, specks of their dinner still showing on their suit jackets.
“Jimmy and Little Nicky, is Pedo Pete with you downstairs?”
Jimmy looks at Little Nicky and slowly shrugs his shoulders. “We have not seen him for the past few hours boss.”
“He said that he had some business to take care of and excused himself, and left the office around three.” Added Little Nicky.
Looking them both in the eyes, I make sure I have their attention. “Ok, you twos I want you to get him out from under my daughters bed, and take him down to the wine cellar and put him in the chair. This is the last straw.”
Jimmy and Little Nicky rush forward and drag Pedo Pete from under the bed.
He comes out… face white as a ghost… not a word is said, but his eyes are wide with fear.
I go to my bedroom to calm my daughter and wife. I look in and see them both asleep, my daughter resting on my pillow, with my wife’s arm draped over her. Their chests rising and falling, while they are dreaming.
I put on my Grundens rain gear, rubber gloves, and my grab my Exacto knife and pasta maker, and head for the cellar. It is going to be a long, long night…
| wtf!! was Franz reaction. he was certain that his house did not have a massive network of tunnels when he bought it.
His daughter told him about noises under her bed but he always dismissed her, his job at the DEA certainly didn't leave to much time for family.
Could this be it, could this be the entrance of the massive surge of white powder that took his office for surprise a few months back?
It seemed too crazy that mexiCAN cartels were digging some 4 miles well into the U.S. but the holes had no other explanation. how convenient for the cartel to go directly under a dea agent's house. Suddenly the real story of his uncle passing away and leaving him 2 mill would be too damn suspicious. | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | “Sweetheart, can you go and see your mother for a moment and tell her that you need to snuggle in our bed for a little bit?”
Amy runs out of the room towards the master, and the waiting arms of her mother.
I call for Jimmy and Little Nicky “Hey Jimmy and Little Nicky, can you come in here please?”
Both Jimmy and Little Nicky lumber into the room, specks of their dinner still showing on their suit jackets.
“Jimmy and Little Nicky, is Pedo Pete with you downstairs?”
Jimmy looks at Little Nicky and slowly shrugs his shoulders. “We have not seen him for the past few hours boss.”
“He said that he had some business to take care of and excused himself, and left the office around three.” Added Little Nicky.
Looking them both in the eyes, I make sure I have their attention. “Ok, you twos I want you to get him out from under my daughters bed, and take him down to the wine cellar and put him in the chair. This is the last straw.”
Jimmy and Little Nicky rush forward and drag Pedo Pete from under the bed.
He comes out… face white as a ghost… not a word is said, but his eyes are wide with fear.
I go to my bedroom to calm my daughter and wife. I look in and see them both asleep, my daughter resting on my pillow, with my wife’s arm draped over her. Their chests rising and falling, while they are dreaming.
I put on my Grundens rain gear, rubber gloves, and my grab my Exacto knife and pasta maker, and head for the cellar. It is going to be a long, long night…
| ######[](#dropcap)
I could hear him underneath my daughter's bedframe, making himself at home. The ruffling of a bespoke three piece suit and fedora made me feel positively ill. The clink of bar glasses and the sloshing of whisky brought chills to my spine. The faint murmur of a needle scratching against an old 78 RPM Sinatra record disturbed me, even to the very core. But worse yet than all of this, that sound which drove fear into the deepest, darkest corner of my heart, was the sound of his voice. I heard him mumbling, in that ancient Brooklyn-Italian accent, and it was all I could do to keep from running, far far away, to the depths of Arkansaw or Wisconsin where no Mafia Man would ever find me again.
*"Eyy..."*
Then my daughter spoke. She had the voice of an angel, a perfectly neutral accent borne from generations of living in a state without the horror of regional dialects, the way God intended. "Daddy," she cried, pure and sweet save for the stain of abject terror which gripped her from underneath her resting place.
"Daddy, he scares me!" she cried. "Make the mobster go away!"
"I'll do my best," I said, finding my voice even as the smell of expensive liquor aerated from the Mafia Man's glass and hit my nose. It smelled of gambling and illicit loans, and my stomach heaved. "Now Sue, this is very important. What has he said to you?"
"I... I don't want to say it!"
"I know, baby, I know." And then I wanted so badly to wrap my arms around her, to tell her everything would be okay, to hold her close in my arms and forget the world where Mafia Men lurked in the shadows with their hired goons and their Tommy guns. But I could not. I saw, laid underneath the four legs of her cot, a traditional Italian rug, covered with dust and well-trampled as though it had been there for ages. It was a rug used to transport bodies, after their spirits had passed from them and they were on their way to be dumped in the Hudson River. I could not set foot on that rug. It would be the end of my days on this earth, and worse yet, I would curse my wife to the torture of being looked after by the man who killed me. They would call it a courtesy, a twisted apology of sorts that Mafia Men were always obligated to do.
They would know true fear.
I found the strength to speak again, to be brave for my daughter. "I need to know. There is a way to remove his presence from the house, but I have to know everything he told you."
She wavered, for only a moment, but knowing that the end of the Mafia Man's presence was nigh, she found the courage to speak. "First, he said, 'Well, aren't you a doll.' He offered me a quarter, and said he had a son just my age, and we might be playmates."
"And you refused him?"
"I did, Daddy."
This was a good start. A Mafia Man's boy would be nothing but trouble. When he was young, he would pull on her pigtails and refuse to play house. Then he would grow up, and steal from his father's liquor cabinet, and offer my sweet, precious Sue a taste.
"And then what did he say?"
"He said there had been some nasty criminals on the loose, and 'wouldn't it be a shame if a bunch of men came into my fine shop and started busting up windows?' He said it just like that."
I shook my head. The Mafia Man was offering "protection." It was a cheap tactic; you were damned if you did accept and damned if you did not. But I knew that refusing his offer was the best recourse. He might return in a day (after having "busted" said windows), but I would have time to prepare a more permanent deterrent.
Then another smell hit me. And another. A whole cacophony of olives, onions, ripe tomatoes, and cured meats. Sue smelled it as well.
"Daddy," she sighed, all at once disturbedly calm, "I smell pizza."
"NO!" I yelled. "Cover your nose, Sue!" For it was not the friendly scent of pizza, that old American pastime adapted for Americans as a symbol of peace and prosperity in The Great Melting Pot. This was a foreigner's food. An *old family recipe,* the Mafia Man might say.
*Spaghetti and meatballs.*
Sue's face took on a dreamy haze as hints of garlic and ground beef wafted upward from underneath the bed. Food has always been a child's greatest weakness. It holds great power over even the strongest, most hardened of men. From where she sat it was a wonder she hadn't passed out in exuberation over the accursed meal. But then, it had obviously been tailor-made to woo her, and her alone. If I had not been there, she might have fallen, and the rest of the family would have followed in her wake, malicious and deliberate.
I gripped my nose tightly, pinching the nostrils closed and taking only the most shallow of breaths. There was only one option now, the most dangerous of them all. It had to be done. As my daughter reveled in the sweet misery of an authentic Italian home-cooked refection, I collected my willpower and set it all forth to laying foot upon the dusty rug.
| |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | "Daddy, Daddy!",
Squealed my darling, Maddy,
"Up the stairs I go with dread..
There's a mobster there to get my head!
Really, terribly, it's awfully true
You should run before he gets you!"
I said, "Daughter, baby, never fear,
My darling, my lovely, my doe eyed deer,
here I'll come and have a look
Monsters are from fiction books!"
But up the stairs she tells me "nay,
This isn't a ghoul afraid of the day"
"Well what is it, then?", I inquire.
"A tentacle monster, if not a vampire?"
"Daddy, what this is is not a kraken
But a man well versed in snitches whack'n
It isn't a zombie, a ghoul or a ghostie
The warmth of *their* smiles are comparatively toasty
Slime and goo and anything gross, oh
Would be far better than this mafioso
This monster doesn't moan or groan
He makes real threats across the phone
'I want my money' says he to them
'That or for you it'll be the end'
He brags about the men he's kill't
That Don who lives below my quilt
Go into my room and you'll have no fun
This man is armed with a Tommy gun!"
Really, a mobster? Under the bed?
Quite a figment of her head!
I venture inside and take a peek,
Nothing there, as I suspected,
Don't know why I was interested,
My daughter's always been awfully meek,
But then she has been pale this week...
then I get this awful sense
Like in the Godfather, full of suspense
My head is spinning, my stomach feels sick
When behind my head I hear a click.
I think to myself: 'oh wow, alas',
'Looks like he wants to stick a cork in my-' | "Stay here."
Alice instructs her daughter as she rises from the bed. She gestures towards the spot where she just lay and Jamey seats her 19yr old frame without making a sound. Alice places a single finger across her own lips while maintaining direct eye contact with her little princess as she kneels beside her. The mother's eyes disappear behind the edge of the bed before reappearing only a moment later. Her protective stare magnetizes Jamey's vulnerable gaze in an instant. She positions the balls of her feet onto the floor, straightens her posture, and in one smooth motion she rocks back and stands. Pump action 12ga in hand she turns and makes her way down the hall to Jamey's room. Alice reaches the 90 degree turn in the hallway leading to the place her daughter rests. She places her left shoulder against the wall.
"SHLACK CLACK!!!"
The sound of the shotgun tears the silence in two, jolting desperate fear through the muscles of the lesser being at which point the self same cowardliness that sent it to hide under the bed manifests itself in the form of a startled full body spasm. This yellow belly call confirmed to Alice that this jackass was indeed
still
under
her
daughter's
bed.
Licking her lips Alice turns her upper torso around the corner leaving the rest of her body and feet on the other side and sends five alternating shells of buckshot and slugs through Jamey's bed. She pauses her assault saving one last round. Only a few seconds pass before the deep crimson blood of the dummy ooozes from under the bed, pooling into the room followed by the smell of human feces.
"RIIIIIIIIIIING"
"RIIIIIIIIIIING"
"RIIIIIIIII..."
"Alice?"
"Yeah."
"What's up Sis?"
"Can you come over? I need a dinner reservation."
| |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | “Sweetheart, can you go and see your mother for a moment and tell her that you need to snuggle in our bed for a little bit?”
Amy runs out of the room towards the master, and the waiting arms of her mother.
I call for Jimmy and Little Nicky “Hey Jimmy and Little Nicky, can you come in here please?”
Both Jimmy and Little Nicky lumber into the room, specks of their dinner still showing on their suit jackets.
“Jimmy and Little Nicky, is Pedo Pete with you downstairs?”
Jimmy looks at Little Nicky and slowly shrugs his shoulders. “We have not seen him for the past few hours boss.”
“He said that he had some business to take care of and excused himself, and left the office around three.” Added Little Nicky.
Looking them both in the eyes, I make sure I have their attention. “Ok, you twos I want you to get him out from under my daughters bed, and take him down to the wine cellar and put him in the chair. This is the last straw.”
Jimmy and Little Nicky rush forward and drag Pedo Pete from under the bed.
He comes out… face white as a ghost… not a word is said, but his eyes are wide with fear.
I go to my bedroom to calm my daughter and wife. I look in and see them both asleep, my daughter resting on my pillow, with my wife’s arm draped over her. Their chests rising and falling, while they are dreaming.
I put on my Grundens rain gear, rubber gloves, and my grab my Exacto knife and pasta maker, and head for the cellar. It is going to be a long, long night…
| "Stay here."
Alice instructs her daughter as she rises from the bed. She gestures towards the spot where she just lay and Jamey seats her 19yr old frame without making a sound. Alice places a single finger across her own lips while maintaining direct eye contact with her little princess as she kneels beside her. The mother's eyes disappear behind the edge of the bed before reappearing only a moment later. Her protective stare magnetizes Jamey's vulnerable gaze in an instant. She positions the balls of her feet onto the floor, straightens her posture, and in one smooth motion she rocks back and stands. Pump action 12ga in hand she turns and makes her way down the hall to Jamey's room. Alice reaches the 90 degree turn in the hallway leading to the place her daughter rests. She places her left shoulder against the wall.
"SHLACK CLACK!!!"
The sound of the shotgun tears the silence in two, jolting desperate fear through the muscles of the lesser being at which point the self same cowardliness that sent it to hide under the bed manifests itself in the form of a startled full body spasm. This yellow belly call confirmed to Alice that this jackass was indeed
still
under
her
daughter's
bed.
Licking her lips Alice turns her upper torso around the corner leaving the rest of her body and feet on the other side and sends five alternating shells of buckshot and slugs through Jamey's bed. She pauses her assault saving one last round. Only a few seconds pass before the deep crimson blood of the dummy ooozes from under the bed, pooling into the room followed by the smell of human feces.
"RIIIIIIIIIIING"
"RIIIIIIIIIIING"
"RIIIIIIIII..."
"Alice?"
"Yeah."
"What's up Sis?"
"Can you come over? I need a dinner reservation."
| |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | Every kid goes through at least one "phase", especially when they are about ten to fourteen years old. Even incredibly bright children have their phases. As an educator, I've seen all kinds of them; one kid insisted that he was going to grow up to be a football star and hardly ever took off his school team's uniform, not even to wash it, another wanted to be a famous journalist, so she walked around with a notebook and pen everywhere and insisted everyone call her Lois.
My eleven year old daughter's current phase is forcing herself to only communicate in one of our three languages each week, "no matter how tired, frustrated, content, or excited" she felt, so she could get better at using each language. We thought it wasn't a terrible idea, so we mostly play along as a family, but our nation's main language is still our default when we are very tired or need to get a point across to our children. However, this particular week's language was English.
So you can imagine my confusion when, at two in the morning, my daughter bursts through my bedroom door claiming there is a monster under her bed. We aren't the kind of family to play pretend about monsters, we feel there are way too many real ones in this world to go inventing new ones of which to be afraid, so I really don't know what she is going on about.
"Daddy, Mommy there is a mobster under my bed!"
"My heartbeat, it's two in the morning, please go back to sleep. It is good for your brain, so you won't be scared of 'monsters.'"
"No, Daddy, not a monster, a *mobster*! I saw him sneak into my room, and get under my bed, but I pretended I was asleep the whole time and waited a few minutes and pretended I needed to go to the bathroom. Daddy I'm scared."
In my mental state of foggy slumber, I struggle to remember what exactly a "mobster" is, let alone how to reassure my daughter that she is safe. I ask her to stay with Mommy, and I go get her (thankfully sleeping) little brothers from their room and bring them to Mommy too, and close the door behind me.
I head off to her bedroom, quietly stopping off to grab the biggest knife in the kitchen, just in case. I get to her room, carefully open the door, and see a mess of ripped up notebooks and my daughter's desk destroyed. In the middle of the mess before me is a young man of about equal height to me, looking like he is about to crawl out of her window with all her books and writing implements he could find in a plastic market bag and her school bag on his back. Brandishing the knife, my voice dripping with a tone that terrified me (and all my worst-behaved students), I demand he put all her things down immediately, and get out of my house right now, if he doesn't want to be a perforated message to the rest of his lowly, scumbag, fundamentalist, so-called "students" "mob". These Taliban lowlifes are never, *ever* going to take my Malala's education from her. | "Stay here."
Alice instructs her daughter as she rises from the bed. She gestures towards the spot where she just lay and Jamey seats her 19yr old frame without making a sound. Alice places a single finger across her own lips while maintaining direct eye contact with her little princess as she kneels beside her. The mother's eyes disappear behind the edge of the bed before reappearing only a moment later. Her protective stare magnetizes Jamey's vulnerable gaze in an instant. She positions the balls of her feet onto the floor, straightens her posture, and in one smooth motion she rocks back and stands. Pump action 12ga in hand she turns and makes her way down the hall to Jamey's room. Alice reaches the 90 degree turn in the hallway leading to the place her daughter rests. She places her left shoulder against the wall.
"SHLACK CLACK!!!"
The sound of the shotgun tears the silence in two, jolting desperate fear through the muscles of the lesser being at which point the self same cowardliness that sent it to hide under the bed manifests itself in the form of a startled full body spasm. This yellow belly call confirmed to Alice that this jackass was indeed
still
under
her
daughter's
bed.
Licking her lips Alice turns her upper torso around the corner leaving the rest of her body and feet on the other side and sends five alternating shells of buckshot and slugs through Jamey's bed. She pauses her assault saving one last round. Only a few seconds pass before the deep crimson blood of the dummy ooozes from under the bed, pooling into the room followed by the smell of human feces.
"RIIIIIIIIIIING"
"RIIIIIIIIIIING"
"RIIIIIIIII..."
"Alice?"
"Yeah."
"What's up Sis?"
"Can you come over? I need a dinner reservation."
| |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | It was the haunting moans that echoed through the house that finally gave away its presence.
"Bada booooo bada bing"
"What on Earth could that be?" I thought to myself as I reached for the flashlight that I kept under my bed in case of emergencies.
"Bada booooo bada bing"
"Did I leave the television on again," I asked as I made my way down the hall. The sounds grew louder with each step I took.
"BADA BOOOOO BADA BING"
"If there is someone there, I'm armed," I yelled - trying my best to sound forceful as the only weapon I had was made not by Smith and Wesson, but rather by Coleman. I slowly opened the door to my daughter's room.
"BADA BOOOOO BADA BING"
And then I saw it. Orange skin, hair slicked back by a substance that looked like overused motor oil. The thick gold chains around its neck glistened in the light and appeared to frame an overabundance of chest hair. It wore a white button-down shirt that was unbuttoned nearly all the way down, as if to proudly show off some treasure. And then ... it saw me.
"Bada booooo....oh, how ya doin?" it asked in what was a clearly Jersey-ian accent.
"Who are you," I questioned, still unsure of who, or what, this was.
"The call me Fingers" the specter answered. "I'm here for the canolli. Capiche?"
"We have none of that here," I replied. "I think you should go."
"No canolli, eh?" The creature stood, and took a few steps toward me. "Un - fuckin - believable. You really need to fix that .. You know .. in case I ever come back, and yada-yada-yada. I'd really hate to have to ... nah .. fugettaboutit"
Without warning there was a bright light, and the smell of cheap knock-off Cuban cigars and Aqua Velva filled the room. When the light faded, I found myself alone. I carefully checked the room to make sure there were no other beings there and, content in our safety, I made my way to the kitchen. Since I was awake, I might as well grab a snack.
Unsure of what I wanted, I opened the fridge and scanned the contents. There, on the bottom shelf, was a small box marked "Finger's Italian Deli and Desserts." It contained only one item - a half-eaten canolli. | "Stay here."
Alice instructs her daughter as she rises from the bed. She gestures towards the spot where she just lay and Jamey seats her 19yr old frame without making a sound. Alice places a single finger across her own lips while maintaining direct eye contact with her little princess as she kneels beside her. The mother's eyes disappear behind the edge of the bed before reappearing only a moment later. Her protective stare magnetizes Jamey's vulnerable gaze in an instant. She positions the balls of her feet onto the floor, straightens her posture, and in one smooth motion she rocks back and stands. Pump action 12ga in hand she turns and makes her way down the hall to Jamey's room. Alice reaches the 90 degree turn in the hallway leading to the place her daughter rests. She places her left shoulder against the wall.
"SHLACK CLACK!!!"
The sound of the shotgun tears the silence in two, jolting desperate fear through the muscles of the lesser being at which point the self same cowardliness that sent it to hide under the bed manifests itself in the form of a startled full body spasm. This yellow belly call confirmed to Alice that this jackass was indeed
still
under
her
daughter's
bed.
Licking her lips Alice turns her upper torso around the corner leaving the rest of her body and feet on the other side and sends five alternating shells of buckshot and slugs through Jamey's bed. She pauses her assault saving one last round. Only a few seconds pass before the deep crimson blood of the dummy ooozes from under the bed, pooling into the room followed by the smell of human feces.
"RIIIIIIIIIIING"
"RIIIIIIIIIIING"
"RIIIIIIIII..."
"Alice?"
"Yeah."
"What's up Sis?"
"Can you come over? I need a dinner reservation."
| |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | *Click*
"Well then." There was a gun in my face. This was a new twist of events in my nightly ritual of scaring monsters from under my daughter Libby's bed.
Behind the barrel of the gun was a frightened looking Asian man covered in tattoos. Distantly I noted that he was screaming at me in a language that I didn't quite understand, speckled with bits of English that seemed to be swearing.
"Excuse me, slow down please" He screamed at me and waved the gun violently. I put my hands up defensively and Libby giggled behind me. I imagine I looked quite funny, laying on my side peering under her bed with my hands put up in front of me like some weird rabbit. At that point I was just happy my seven year old hadn't seen the gun.
The man spat another string of his language that seemed to inflect like a question, too bad I didn't understand him. When I shrugged he pressed the gun at me and then, defeated by my stupidity apparently, he fell back against the floor, staring into the underside of the twin waterproof mattress.
While he was wallowing in self pity, and muttering to himself, I was still coming to grips with the idea this was really happening. He was quite young it seemed, probably early twenties with well groomed hair and a clean angular face. His tattoos were clearly visible on his bare arms and I could see the lines of others under his tank top, on the bottom he wore suit pants, and I could see the sheen of patent leather shoes from the foot of Libby's bed.
Suddenly he was slammed into the mattress, underneath him half of a person had appeared, the other half was somewhere beyond the realm of my upstairs floor. The new man apparently realized this and started screaming, this caused the first man to start screaming and cursing and brandishing his gun. Without thinking I reached in and shoved the man on top, he didn't move much but it did earn me a light tap with the pistol as he swung his arms around to maintain his balance. Under him the other man was still screaming, his eyes were wide with pain or fear, I wasn't sure, but probably both. I was at a loss until the screaming man pulled his fist back into oblivion and slammed it forward, punching the angry man in the kidney, knocking the wind out of him. Taking my chance, I shoved the stunned guy off of his screaming assailant and I reached in to take the now reaching hands.
With a kick I spun myself on the wooden floor to brace my feet against the legs of the bed frame. Internally I counted to three, listening to the strained breathing of the first man as I pulled the second out of my floorboards with all my might.
---
His name was Kenichi and he spoke perfect English, when he wasn't screaming and punishing his subordinates.
After I had pulled him from under the bed he had proceeded to vomit and attack the younger man, a little bit at the same time. Needless to say, my daughter's room was a disaster, for which Kenichi had apologized, while the younger man attempted to staunch a nosebleed that was dripping onto my floor. His name was Makoto I had learned through a jumbled introduction, and what I had assumed was an apology for waving a gun in my face.
Now we sat at my kitchen table drinking tea, me in stunned silence as Makoto made monkey faces with Libby and had even given her permission to address him familiarly. Kenichi sipped his tea peacefully at the table. Neither had any idea how they had gotten under my daughter's bed in the middle of Virginia.
Kenichi had identified himself and Makoto as Japanese, and without saying he was clearly the younger man's superior. He wore a tailored suit in a dark gray and a black button up closed to his throat, the tie was missing. While he sipped his tea I noticed tattoos similar to those on the younger man peeking out from under his sleeves. As if hearing my thoughts Libby turned her large blue eyes on Makoto.
"Mako-kun, did those hurt?" Her small hand touched the tail of a dragon on his wrist and he looked to Kenichi for a moment and spat out a string of Japanese. The older man looked like his disapproved but he translated the question and Makoto's response.
"Yes, they hurt because instead of a quick needling gun, we use sharp sticks to put the ink under our skin. The process is very painful, and can take many years to complete." Libby looked at Makoto in awe as her eyes darted along his covered arms and throat.
"Do you have tattoos everywhere?!" Kenichi almost spat tea on me and Makoto turned an attractive shade of red when he was asked in a way he could understand.
"No Libby, he doesn't yet. But eventually he probably will." She looked at Kenichi and at his suit covered arms and neck.
"Mr. Kenichi, do YOU have tattoos? Mommy has a couple, she has one on her.." I managed to reach across the table and put a finger across her mouth.
"TMI baby." Kenichi was laughing again and I fought the urge to crawl under the table.
"Yes Libby, I have many tattoos."
"More than Mako-kun?" He nodded his salt and pepper head and Libby went silent with wider eyes than before, if that were possible.
I took this opportunity to tell her that it was late and that she needed to go curl up in my bed. It was still a school night after all.
When she had been tucked in I sat back at the table with my uninvited guests. Both had lost their friendly overtone for the most part, and looked completely businesslike when I returned.
"So. What are we going to do gentlemen, I can't have Japanese gangsters appearing in my apartment in the middle of the night." Kenichi smiled, like I imagine a shark might.
"And why not? I'm sure we could compensate you handsomely for providing a safe house for us?"
I snorted.
"I must look like a moron. You came out from under my daughter's bed. YOU!" I pointed at Makoto and he recoiled like I had bitten him. "YOU! Could have KILLED us. No, Kenichi, I don't think that will work for us, I have Libby to think about. I'm sure you understand." I wasn't sure, I was talking out of my ass. These two could easily get rid of me, and Libby.
"I assure you I understand, but, I can't have you just running around without supervision. I'm sure YOU understand my concerns."
"You think I'm a snitch." He tilted his head.
"It would be irresponsible of me if I didn't." I could understand that. Loose ends were a no no for these people. But he also wasn't heartless, and didn't really want to hurt my little girl, or me.
"You see Holly, my hands are quite tied."
Makoto muttered something in Japanese and Kenichi looked thoughtful.
"That may work. Holly." I perked up from my thoughts of having a revolving roster of Asian mobsters in my apartment.
"What if I bought out your lease? And then gave you enough to live comfortably away from here." There was a catch, that was too good of an offer.
"I would love that, but what's the trade Satan? Seriously, that's a devil's offer right there." He laughed loudly at me.
"I like you, it would be a shame to kill you. Especially since you could have easily called the police while I was stuck in the floor, and you helped me instead." I hadn't really thought of it that way, but I knew the offer was still bullshit, and full of holes.
"Cool, I like you too. But that didn't really answer my question. That is a lot of money to just give me because you like my jokes and think my kid is cute." I sipped my tea, it was cold now.
"Fair. You would be required to live with a guardian, one of my subordinates who will be there for your protection."
"And to make sure I don't run my mouth." I took another sip of my gross tea feeling like I was in an epic face off in a spy novel.
He nodded with his shark's smile.
"So?"
"I don't have much of a choice. That's the best option by far." Another nod from him.
"Where would you and Libby like to live?"
---
The view of Vienna was breathtaking. Flowering trees and lush blooming plants lined the bustling streets. Brightly dressed and laughing people skipped down the sidewalks and the smell of flowers and coffee wafted from the shops below our new home.
After a month of planning, and a whirlwind of new faces, courtesy of Kenichi,Libby and I had arrived to a fully furnished two story apartment in the heart of Vienna. The furniture was light wood and covered in intricate carvings and soft pale cushions. Libby's room was a masterpiece, with fantastic murals covering we walls and a bed fit for a princess. Kenichi had really outdone himself.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of our guardian and keeper. I assumed it would be a woman for the sake of propriety, so needless to say I let out a small shriek when I opened the door.
"Sup." Makoto leaned against the door frame, a bag slung over his shoulder.
"Where's my room?"
---
Thanks for reading! Any comments are greatly appreciated! | "Stay here."
Alice instructs her daughter as she rises from the bed. She gestures towards the spot where she just lay and Jamey seats her 19yr old frame without making a sound. Alice places a single finger across her own lips while maintaining direct eye contact with her little princess as she kneels beside her. The mother's eyes disappear behind the edge of the bed before reappearing only a moment later. Her protective stare magnetizes Jamey's vulnerable gaze in an instant. She positions the balls of her feet onto the floor, straightens her posture, and in one smooth motion she rocks back and stands. Pump action 12ga in hand she turns and makes her way down the hall to Jamey's room. Alice reaches the 90 degree turn in the hallway leading to the place her daughter rests. She places her left shoulder against the wall.
"SHLACK CLACK!!!"
The sound of the shotgun tears the silence in two, jolting desperate fear through the muscles of the lesser being at which point the self same cowardliness that sent it to hide under the bed manifests itself in the form of a startled full body spasm. This yellow belly call confirmed to Alice that this jackass was indeed
still
under
her
daughter's
bed.
Licking her lips Alice turns her upper torso around the corner leaving the rest of her body and feet on the other side and sends five alternating shells of buckshot and slugs through Jamey's bed. She pauses her assault saving one last round. Only a few seconds pass before the deep crimson blood of the dummy ooozes from under the bed, pooling into the room followed by the smell of human feces.
"RIIIIIIIIIIING"
"RIIIIIIIIIIING"
"RIIIIIIIII..."
"Alice?"
"Yeah."
"What's up Sis?"
"Can you come over? I need a dinner reservation."
| |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | "Daddy!" she screeched, "Wont you come help me, please!"
"Sweetheart, I'm here," I cooed, quickly calming her pleas.
"What's the matter?" I asked taking a place by her side.
"A monster," she whispered, "*Beneath the bed,* does reside!"
"A *monster* you say?" with much mirth I replied;
"With *red eyes* and *horns,* on its outside?
Does it have pointed teeth, and claws made of stone? -
Are you sure there's just one? Are you sure *it's alone*?"
"*Mobster*, dad," she replied wide eyed and alert.
"It wears a pinstriped suit and a fine silken shirt,
A gun in it's trousers is tightly tucked,
And he said if we rat him we're going to be-"
"Honey!" I yelled, quickly cutting her off,
"Mobsters down there?" I scornfully scoffed.
"Preposterous! Silly! There's nothing to fear-"
When from under the bed, *Copone* did appear!
"Excuse me," he said, with a curt tip of his hat,
"Your daughter is right - but I have no time to chat,
I have places to go and many peoples to whack.
So respect your daughter, or I might just be back!"
| "Stay here."
Alice instructs her daughter as she rises from the bed. She gestures towards the spot where she just lay and Jamey seats her 19yr old frame without making a sound. Alice places a single finger across her own lips while maintaining direct eye contact with her little princess as she kneels beside her. The mother's eyes disappear behind the edge of the bed before reappearing only a moment later. Her protective stare magnetizes Jamey's vulnerable gaze in an instant. She positions the balls of her feet onto the floor, straightens her posture, and in one smooth motion she rocks back and stands. Pump action 12ga in hand she turns and makes her way down the hall to Jamey's room. Alice reaches the 90 degree turn in the hallway leading to the place her daughter rests. She places her left shoulder against the wall.
"SHLACK CLACK!!!"
The sound of the shotgun tears the silence in two, jolting desperate fear through the muscles of the lesser being at which point the self same cowardliness that sent it to hide under the bed manifests itself in the form of a startled full body spasm. This yellow belly call confirmed to Alice that this jackass was indeed
still
under
her
daughter's
bed.
Licking her lips Alice turns her upper torso around the corner leaving the rest of her body and feet on the other side and sends five alternating shells of buckshot and slugs through Jamey's bed. She pauses her assault saving one last round. Only a few seconds pass before the deep crimson blood of the dummy ooozes from under the bed, pooling into the room followed by the smell of human feces.
"RIIIIIIIIIIING"
"RIIIIIIIIIIING"
"RIIIIIIIII..."
"Alice?"
"Yeah."
"What's up Sis?"
"Can you come over? I need a dinner reservation."
| |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | Every kid goes through at least one "phase", especially when they are about ten to fourteen years old. Even incredibly bright children have their phases. As an educator, I've seen all kinds of them; one kid insisted that he was going to grow up to be a football star and hardly ever took off his school team's uniform, not even to wash it, another wanted to be a famous journalist, so she walked around with a notebook and pen everywhere and insisted everyone call her Lois.
My eleven year old daughter's current phase is forcing herself to only communicate in one of our three languages each week, "no matter how tired, frustrated, content, or excited" she felt, so she could get better at using each language. We thought it wasn't a terrible idea, so we mostly play along as a family, but our nation's main language is still our default when we are very tired or need to get a point across to our children. However, this particular week's language was English.
So you can imagine my confusion when, at two in the morning, my daughter bursts through my bedroom door claiming there is a monster under her bed. We aren't the kind of family to play pretend about monsters, we feel there are way too many real ones in this world to go inventing new ones of which to be afraid, so I really don't know what she is going on about.
"Daddy, Mommy there is a mobster under my bed!"
"My heartbeat, it's two in the morning, please go back to sleep. It is good for your brain, so you won't be scared of 'monsters.'"
"No, Daddy, not a monster, a *mobster*! I saw him sneak into my room, and get under my bed, but I pretended I was asleep the whole time and waited a few minutes and pretended I needed to go to the bathroom. Daddy I'm scared."
In my mental state of foggy slumber, I struggle to remember what exactly a "mobster" is, let alone how to reassure my daughter that she is safe. I ask her to stay with Mommy, and I go get her (thankfully sleeping) little brothers from their room and bring them to Mommy too, and close the door behind me.
I head off to her bedroom, quietly stopping off to grab the biggest knife in the kitchen, just in case. I get to her room, carefully open the door, and see a mess of ripped up notebooks and my daughter's desk destroyed. In the middle of the mess before me is a young man of about equal height to me, looking like he is about to crawl out of her window with all her books and writing implements he could find in a plastic market bag and her school bag on his back. Brandishing the knife, my voice dripping with a tone that terrified me (and all my worst-behaved students), I demand he put all her things down immediately, and get out of my house right now, if he doesn't want to be a perforated message to the rest of his lowly, scumbag, fundamentalist, so-called "students" "mob". These Taliban lowlifes are never, *ever* going to take my Malala's education from her. | "Daddy, Daddy!",
Squealed my darling, Maddy,
"Up the stairs I go with dread..
There's a mobster there to get my head!
Really, terribly, it's awfully true
You should run before he gets you!"
I said, "Daughter, baby, never fear,
My darling, my lovely, my doe eyed deer,
here I'll come and have a look
Monsters are from fiction books!"
But up the stairs she tells me "nay,
This isn't a ghoul afraid of the day"
"Well what is it, then?", I inquire.
"A tentacle monster, if not a vampire?"
"Daddy, what this is is not a kraken
But a man well versed in snitches whack'n
It isn't a zombie, a ghoul or a ghostie
The warmth of *their* smiles are comparatively toasty
Slime and goo and anything gross, oh
Would be far better than this mafioso
This monster doesn't moan or groan
He makes real threats across the phone
'I want my money' says he to them
'That or for you it'll be the end'
He brags about the men he's kill't
That Don who lives below my quilt
Go into my room and you'll have no fun
This man is armed with a Tommy gun!"
Really, a mobster? Under the bed?
Quite a figment of her head!
I venture inside and take a peek,
Nothing there, as I suspected,
Don't know why I was interested,
My daughter's always been awfully meek,
But then she has been pale this week...
then I get this awful sense
Like in the Godfather, full of suspense
My head is spinning, my stomach feels sick
When behind my head I hear a click.
I think to myself: 'oh wow, alas',
'Looks like he wants to stick a cork in my-' | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | It was the haunting moans that echoed through the house that finally gave away its presence.
"Bada booooo bada bing"
"What on Earth could that be?" I thought to myself as I reached for the flashlight that I kept under my bed in case of emergencies.
"Bada booooo bada bing"
"Did I leave the television on again," I asked as I made my way down the hall. The sounds grew louder with each step I took.
"BADA BOOOOO BADA BING"
"If there is someone there, I'm armed," I yelled - trying my best to sound forceful as the only weapon I had was made not by Smith and Wesson, but rather by Coleman. I slowly opened the door to my daughter's room.
"BADA BOOOOO BADA BING"
And then I saw it. Orange skin, hair slicked back by a substance that looked like overused motor oil. The thick gold chains around its neck glistened in the light and appeared to frame an overabundance of chest hair. It wore a white button-down shirt that was unbuttoned nearly all the way down, as if to proudly show off some treasure. And then ... it saw me.
"Bada booooo....oh, how ya doin?" it asked in what was a clearly Jersey-ian accent.
"Who are you," I questioned, still unsure of who, or what, this was.
"The call me Fingers" the specter answered. "I'm here for the canolli. Capiche?"
"We have none of that here," I replied. "I think you should go."
"No canolli, eh?" The creature stood, and took a few steps toward me. "Un - fuckin - believable. You really need to fix that .. You know .. in case I ever come back, and yada-yada-yada. I'd really hate to have to ... nah .. fugettaboutit"
Without warning there was a bright light, and the smell of cheap knock-off Cuban cigars and Aqua Velva filled the room. When the light faded, I found myself alone. I carefully checked the room to make sure there were no other beings there and, content in our safety, I made my way to the kitchen. Since I was awake, I might as well grab a snack.
Unsure of what I wanted, I opened the fridge and scanned the contents. There, on the bottom shelf, was a small box marked "Finger's Italian Deli and Desserts." It contained only one item - a half-eaten canolli. | "Daddy, Daddy!",
Squealed my darling, Maddy,
"Up the stairs I go with dread..
There's a mobster there to get my head!
Really, terribly, it's awfully true
You should run before he gets you!"
I said, "Daughter, baby, never fear,
My darling, my lovely, my doe eyed deer,
here I'll come and have a look
Monsters are from fiction books!"
But up the stairs she tells me "nay,
This isn't a ghoul afraid of the day"
"Well what is it, then?", I inquire.
"A tentacle monster, if not a vampire?"
"Daddy, what this is is not a kraken
But a man well versed in snitches whack'n
It isn't a zombie, a ghoul or a ghostie
The warmth of *their* smiles are comparatively toasty
Slime and goo and anything gross, oh
Would be far better than this mafioso
This monster doesn't moan or groan
He makes real threats across the phone
'I want my money' says he to them
'That or for you it'll be the end'
He brags about the men he's kill't
That Don who lives below my quilt
Go into my room and you'll have no fun
This man is armed with a Tommy gun!"
Really, a mobster? Under the bed?
Quite a figment of her head!
I venture inside and take a peek,
Nothing there, as I suspected,
Don't know why I was interested,
My daughter's always been awfully meek,
But then she has been pale this week...
then I get this awful sense
Like in the Godfather, full of suspense
My head is spinning, my stomach feels sick
When behind my head I hear a click.
I think to myself: 'oh wow, alas',
'Looks like he wants to stick a cork in my-' | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | *Click*
"Well then." There was a gun in my face. This was a new twist of events in my nightly ritual of scaring monsters from under my daughter Libby's bed.
Behind the barrel of the gun was a frightened looking Asian man covered in tattoos. Distantly I noted that he was screaming at me in a language that I didn't quite understand, speckled with bits of English that seemed to be swearing.
"Excuse me, slow down please" He screamed at me and waved the gun violently. I put my hands up defensively and Libby giggled behind me. I imagine I looked quite funny, laying on my side peering under her bed with my hands put up in front of me like some weird rabbit. At that point I was just happy my seven year old hadn't seen the gun.
The man spat another string of his language that seemed to inflect like a question, too bad I didn't understand him. When I shrugged he pressed the gun at me and then, defeated by my stupidity apparently, he fell back against the floor, staring into the underside of the twin waterproof mattress.
While he was wallowing in self pity, and muttering to himself, I was still coming to grips with the idea this was really happening. He was quite young it seemed, probably early twenties with well groomed hair and a clean angular face. His tattoos were clearly visible on his bare arms and I could see the lines of others under his tank top, on the bottom he wore suit pants, and I could see the sheen of patent leather shoes from the foot of Libby's bed.
Suddenly he was slammed into the mattress, underneath him half of a person had appeared, the other half was somewhere beyond the realm of my upstairs floor. The new man apparently realized this and started screaming, this caused the first man to start screaming and cursing and brandishing his gun. Without thinking I reached in and shoved the man on top, he didn't move much but it did earn me a light tap with the pistol as he swung his arms around to maintain his balance. Under him the other man was still screaming, his eyes were wide with pain or fear, I wasn't sure, but probably both. I was at a loss until the screaming man pulled his fist back into oblivion and slammed it forward, punching the angry man in the kidney, knocking the wind out of him. Taking my chance, I shoved the stunned guy off of his screaming assailant and I reached in to take the now reaching hands.
With a kick I spun myself on the wooden floor to brace my feet against the legs of the bed frame. Internally I counted to three, listening to the strained breathing of the first man as I pulled the second out of my floorboards with all my might.
---
His name was Kenichi and he spoke perfect English, when he wasn't screaming and punishing his subordinates.
After I had pulled him from under the bed he had proceeded to vomit and attack the younger man, a little bit at the same time. Needless to say, my daughter's room was a disaster, for which Kenichi had apologized, while the younger man attempted to staunch a nosebleed that was dripping onto my floor. His name was Makoto I had learned through a jumbled introduction, and what I had assumed was an apology for waving a gun in my face.
Now we sat at my kitchen table drinking tea, me in stunned silence as Makoto made monkey faces with Libby and had even given her permission to address him familiarly. Kenichi sipped his tea peacefully at the table. Neither had any idea how they had gotten under my daughter's bed in the middle of Virginia.
Kenichi had identified himself and Makoto as Japanese, and without saying he was clearly the younger man's superior. He wore a tailored suit in a dark gray and a black button up closed to his throat, the tie was missing. While he sipped his tea I noticed tattoos similar to those on the younger man peeking out from under his sleeves. As if hearing my thoughts Libby turned her large blue eyes on Makoto.
"Mako-kun, did those hurt?" Her small hand touched the tail of a dragon on his wrist and he looked to Kenichi for a moment and spat out a string of Japanese. The older man looked like his disapproved but he translated the question and Makoto's response.
"Yes, they hurt because instead of a quick needling gun, we use sharp sticks to put the ink under our skin. The process is very painful, and can take many years to complete." Libby looked at Makoto in awe as her eyes darted along his covered arms and throat.
"Do you have tattoos everywhere?!" Kenichi almost spat tea on me and Makoto turned an attractive shade of red when he was asked in a way he could understand.
"No Libby, he doesn't yet. But eventually he probably will." She looked at Kenichi and at his suit covered arms and neck.
"Mr. Kenichi, do YOU have tattoos? Mommy has a couple, she has one on her.." I managed to reach across the table and put a finger across her mouth.
"TMI baby." Kenichi was laughing again and I fought the urge to crawl under the table.
"Yes Libby, I have many tattoos."
"More than Mako-kun?" He nodded his salt and pepper head and Libby went silent with wider eyes than before, if that were possible.
I took this opportunity to tell her that it was late and that she needed to go curl up in my bed. It was still a school night after all.
When she had been tucked in I sat back at the table with my uninvited guests. Both had lost their friendly overtone for the most part, and looked completely businesslike when I returned.
"So. What are we going to do gentlemen, I can't have Japanese gangsters appearing in my apartment in the middle of the night." Kenichi smiled, like I imagine a shark might.
"And why not? I'm sure we could compensate you handsomely for providing a safe house for us?"
I snorted.
"I must look like a moron. You came out from under my daughter's bed. YOU!" I pointed at Makoto and he recoiled like I had bitten him. "YOU! Could have KILLED us. No, Kenichi, I don't think that will work for us, I have Libby to think about. I'm sure you understand." I wasn't sure, I was talking out of my ass. These two could easily get rid of me, and Libby.
"I assure you I understand, but, I can't have you just running around without supervision. I'm sure YOU understand my concerns."
"You think I'm a snitch." He tilted his head.
"It would be irresponsible of me if I didn't." I could understand that. Loose ends were a no no for these people. But he also wasn't heartless, and didn't really want to hurt my little girl, or me.
"You see Holly, my hands are quite tied."
Makoto muttered something in Japanese and Kenichi looked thoughtful.
"That may work. Holly." I perked up from my thoughts of having a revolving roster of Asian mobsters in my apartment.
"What if I bought out your lease? And then gave you enough to live comfortably away from here." There was a catch, that was too good of an offer.
"I would love that, but what's the trade Satan? Seriously, that's a devil's offer right there." He laughed loudly at me.
"I like you, it would be a shame to kill you. Especially since you could have easily called the police while I was stuck in the floor, and you helped me instead." I hadn't really thought of it that way, but I knew the offer was still bullshit, and full of holes.
"Cool, I like you too. But that didn't really answer my question. That is a lot of money to just give me because you like my jokes and think my kid is cute." I sipped my tea, it was cold now.
"Fair. You would be required to live with a guardian, one of my subordinates who will be there for your protection."
"And to make sure I don't run my mouth." I took another sip of my gross tea feeling like I was in an epic face off in a spy novel.
He nodded with his shark's smile.
"So?"
"I don't have much of a choice. That's the best option by far." Another nod from him.
"Where would you and Libby like to live?"
---
The view of Vienna was breathtaking. Flowering trees and lush blooming plants lined the bustling streets. Brightly dressed and laughing people skipped down the sidewalks and the smell of flowers and coffee wafted from the shops below our new home.
After a month of planning, and a whirlwind of new faces, courtesy of Kenichi,Libby and I had arrived to a fully furnished two story apartment in the heart of Vienna. The furniture was light wood and covered in intricate carvings and soft pale cushions. Libby's room was a masterpiece, with fantastic murals covering we walls and a bed fit for a princess. Kenichi had really outdone himself.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of our guardian and keeper. I assumed it would be a woman for the sake of propriety, so needless to say I let out a small shriek when I opened the door.
"Sup." Makoto leaned against the door frame, a bag slung over his shoulder.
"Where's my room?"
---
Thanks for reading! Any comments are greatly appreciated! | "Daddy, Daddy!",
Squealed my darling, Maddy,
"Up the stairs I go with dread..
There's a mobster there to get my head!
Really, terribly, it's awfully true
You should run before he gets you!"
I said, "Daughter, baby, never fear,
My darling, my lovely, my doe eyed deer,
here I'll come and have a look
Monsters are from fiction books!"
But up the stairs she tells me "nay,
This isn't a ghoul afraid of the day"
"Well what is it, then?", I inquire.
"A tentacle monster, if not a vampire?"
"Daddy, what this is is not a kraken
But a man well versed in snitches whack'n
It isn't a zombie, a ghoul or a ghostie
The warmth of *their* smiles are comparatively toasty
Slime and goo and anything gross, oh
Would be far better than this mafioso
This monster doesn't moan or groan
He makes real threats across the phone
'I want my money' says he to them
'That or for you it'll be the end'
He brags about the men he's kill't
That Don who lives below my quilt
Go into my room and you'll have no fun
This man is armed with a Tommy gun!"
Really, a mobster? Under the bed?
Quite a figment of her head!
I venture inside and take a peek,
Nothing there, as I suspected,
Don't know why I was interested,
My daughter's always been awfully meek,
But then she has been pale this week...
then I get this awful sense
Like in the Godfather, full of suspense
My head is spinning, my stomach feels sick
When behind my head I hear a click.
I think to myself: 'oh wow, alas',
'Looks like he wants to stick a cork in my-' | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | *Click*
"Well then." There was a gun in my face. This was a new twist of events in my nightly ritual of scaring monsters from under my daughter Libby's bed.
Behind the barrel of the gun was a frightened looking Asian man covered in tattoos. Distantly I noted that he was screaming at me in a language that I didn't quite understand, speckled with bits of English that seemed to be swearing.
"Excuse me, slow down please" He screamed at me and waved the gun violently. I put my hands up defensively and Libby giggled behind me. I imagine I looked quite funny, laying on my side peering under her bed with my hands put up in front of me like some weird rabbit. At that point I was just happy my seven year old hadn't seen the gun.
The man spat another string of his language that seemed to inflect like a question, too bad I didn't understand him. When I shrugged he pressed the gun at me and then, defeated by my stupidity apparently, he fell back against the floor, staring into the underside of the twin waterproof mattress.
While he was wallowing in self pity, and muttering to himself, I was still coming to grips with the idea this was really happening. He was quite young it seemed, probably early twenties with well groomed hair and a clean angular face. His tattoos were clearly visible on his bare arms and I could see the lines of others under his tank top, on the bottom he wore suit pants, and I could see the sheen of patent leather shoes from the foot of Libby's bed.
Suddenly he was slammed into the mattress, underneath him half of a person had appeared, the other half was somewhere beyond the realm of my upstairs floor. The new man apparently realized this and started screaming, this caused the first man to start screaming and cursing and brandishing his gun. Without thinking I reached in and shoved the man on top, he didn't move much but it did earn me a light tap with the pistol as he swung his arms around to maintain his balance. Under him the other man was still screaming, his eyes were wide with pain or fear, I wasn't sure, but probably both. I was at a loss until the screaming man pulled his fist back into oblivion and slammed it forward, punching the angry man in the kidney, knocking the wind out of him. Taking my chance, I shoved the stunned guy off of his screaming assailant and I reached in to take the now reaching hands.
With a kick I spun myself on the wooden floor to brace my feet against the legs of the bed frame. Internally I counted to three, listening to the strained breathing of the first man as I pulled the second out of my floorboards with all my might.
---
His name was Kenichi and he spoke perfect English, when he wasn't screaming and punishing his subordinates.
After I had pulled him from under the bed he had proceeded to vomit and attack the younger man, a little bit at the same time. Needless to say, my daughter's room was a disaster, for which Kenichi had apologized, while the younger man attempted to staunch a nosebleed that was dripping onto my floor. His name was Makoto I had learned through a jumbled introduction, and what I had assumed was an apology for waving a gun in my face.
Now we sat at my kitchen table drinking tea, me in stunned silence as Makoto made monkey faces with Libby and had even given her permission to address him familiarly. Kenichi sipped his tea peacefully at the table. Neither had any idea how they had gotten under my daughter's bed in the middle of Virginia.
Kenichi had identified himself and Makoto as Japanese, and without saying he was clearly the younger man's superior. He wore a tailored suit in a dark gray and a black button up closed to his throat, the tie was missing. While he sipped his tea I noticed tattoos similar to those on the younger man peeking out from under his sleeves. As if hearing my thoughts Libby turned her large blue eyes on Makoto.
"Mako-kun, did those hurt?" Her small hand touched the tail of a dragon on his wrist and he looked to Kenichi for a moment and spat out a string of Japanese. The older man looked like his disapproved but he translated the question and Makoto's response.
"Yes, they hurt because instead of a quick needling gun, we use sharp sticks to put the ink under our skin. The process is very painful, and can take many years to complete." Libby looked at Makoto in awe as her eyes darted along his covered arms and throat.
"Do you have tattoos everywhere?!" Kenichi almost spat tea on me and Makoto turned an attractive shade of red when he was asked in a way he could understand.
"No Libby, he doesn't yet. But eventually he probably will." She looked at Kenichi and at his suit covered arms and neck.
"Mr. Kenichi, do YOU have tattoos? Mommy has a couple, she has one on her.." I managed to reach across the table and put a finger across her mouth.
"TMI baby." Kenichi was laughing again and I fought the urge to crawl under the table.
"Yes Libby, I have many tattoos."
"More than Mako-kun?" He nodded his salt and pepper head and Libby went silent with wider eyes than before, if that were possible.
I took this opportunity to tell her that it was late and that she needed to go curl up in my bed. It was still a school night after all.
When she had been tucked in I sat back at the table with my uninvited guests. Both had lost their friendly overtone for the most part, and looked completely businesslike when I returned.
"So. What are we going to do gentlemen, I can't have Japanese gangsters appearing in my apartment in the middle of the night." Kenichi smiled, like I imagine a shark might.
"And why not? I'm sure we could compensate you handsomely for providing a safe house for us?"
I snorted.
"I must look like a moron. You came out from under my daughter's bed. YOU!" I pointed at Makoto and he recoiled like I had bitten him. "YOU! Could have KILLED us. No, Kenichi, I don't think that will work for us, I have Libby to think about. I'm sure you understand." I wasn't sure, I was talking out of my ass. These two could easily get rid of me, and Libby.
"I assure you I understand, but, I can't have you just running around without supervision. I'm sure YOU understand my concerns."
"You think I'm a snitch." He tilted his head.
"It would be irresponsible of me if I didn't." I could understand that. Loose ends were a no no for these people. But he also wasn't heartless, and didn't really want to hurt my little girl, or me.
"You see Holly, my hands are quite tied."
Makoto muttered something in Japanese and Kenichi looked thoughtful.
"That may work. Holly." I perked up from my thoughts of having a revolving roster of Asian mobsters in my apartment.
"What if I bought out your lease? And then gave you enough to live comfortably away from here." There was a catch, that was too good of an offer.
"I would love that, but what's the trade Satan? Seriously, that's a devil's offer right there." He laughed loudly at me.
"I like you, it would be a shame to kill you. Especially since you could have easily called the police while I was stuck in the floor, and you helped me instead." I hadn't really thought of it that way, but I knew the offer was still bullshit, and full of holes.
"Cool, I like you too. But that didn't really answer my question. That is a lot of money to just give me because you like my jokes and think my kid is cute." I sipped my tea, it was cold now.
"Fair. You would be required to live with a guardian, one of my subordinates who will be there for your protection."
"And to make sure I don't run my mouth." I took another sip of my gross tea feeling like I was in an epic face off in a spy novel.
He nodded with his shark's smile.
"So?"
"I don't have much of a choice. That's the best option by far." Another nod from him.
"Where would you and Libby like to live?"
---
The view of Vienna was breathtaking. Flowering trees and lush blooming plants lined the bustling streets. Brightly dressed and laughing people skipped down the sidewalks and the smell of flowers and coffee wafted from the shops below our new home.
After a month of planning, and a whirlwind of new faces, courtesy of Kenichi,Libby and I had arrived to a fully furnished two story apartment in the heart of Vienna. The furniture was light wood and covered in intricate carvings and soft pale cushions. Libby's room was a masterpiece, with fantastic murals covering we walls and a bed fit for a princess. Kenichi had really outdone himself.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of our guardian and keeper. I assumed it would be a woman for the sake of propriety, so needless to say I let out a small shriek when I opened the door.
"Sup." Makoto leaned against the door frame, a bag slung over his shoulder.
"Where's my room?"
---
Thanks for reading! Any comments are greatly appreciated! | Every kid goes through at least one "phase", especially when they are about ten to fourteen years old. Even incredibly bright children have their phases. As an educator, I've seen all kinds of them; one kid insisted that he was going to grow up to be a football star and hardly ever took off his school team's uniform, not even to wash it, another wanted to be a famous journalist, so she walked around with a notebook and pen everywhere and insisted everyone call her Lois.
My eleven year old daughter's current phase is forcing herself to only communicate in one of our three languages each week, "no matter how tired, frustrated, content, or excited" she felt, so she could get better at using each language. We thought it wasn't a terrible idea, so we mostly play along as a family, but our nation's main language is still our default when we are very tired or need to get a point across to our children. However, this particular week's language was English.
So you can imagine my confusion when, at two in the morning, my daughter bursts through my bedroom door claiming there is a monster under her bed. We aren't the kind of family to play pretend about monsters, we feel there are way too many real ones in this world to go inventing new ones of which to be afraid, so I really don't know what she is going on about.
"Daddy, Mommy there is a mobster under my bed!"
"My heartbeat, it's two in the morning, please go back to sleep. It is good for your brain, so you won't be scared of 'monsters.'"
"No, Daddy, not a monster, a *mobster*! I saw him sneak into my room, and get under my bed, but I pretended I was asleep the whole time and waited a few minutes and pretended I needed to go to the bathroom. Daddy I'm scared."
In my mental state of foggy slumber, I struggle to remember what exactly a "mobster" is, let alone how to reassure my daughter that she is safe. I ask her to stay with Mommy, and I go get her (thankfully sleeping) little brothers from their room and bring them to Mommy too, and close the door behind me.
I head off to her bedroom, quietly stopping off to grab the biggest knife in the kitchen, just in case. I get to her room, carefully open the door, and see a mess of ripped up notebooks and my daughter's desk destroyed. In the middle of the mess before me is a young man of about equal height to me, looking like he is about to crawl out of her window with all her books and writing implements he could find in a plastic market bag and her school bag on his back. Brandishing the knife, my voice dripping with a tone that terrified me (and all my worst-behaved students), I demand he put all her things down immediately, and get out of my house right now, if he doesn't want to be a perforated message to the rest of his lowly, scumbag, fundamentalist, so-called "students" "mob". These Taliban lowlifes are never, *ever* going to take my Malala's education from her. | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | *Click*
"Well then." There was a gun in my face. This was a new twist of events in my nightly ritual of scaring monsters from under my daughter Libby's bed.
Behind the barrel of the gun was a frightened looking Asian man covered in tattoos. Distantly I noted that he was screaming at me in a language that I didn't quite understand, speckled with bits of English that seemed to be swearing.
"Excuse me, slow down please" He screamed at me and waved the gun violently. I put my hands up defensively and Libby giggled behind me. I imagine I looked quite funny, laying on my side peering under her bed with my hands put up in front of me like some weird rabbit. At that point I was just happy my seven year old hadn't seen the gun.
The man spat another string of his language that seemed to inflect like a question, too bad I didn't understand him. When I shrugged he pressed the gun at me and then, defeated by my stupidity apparently, he fell back against the floor, staring into the underside of the twin waterproof mattress.
While he was wallowing in self pity, and muttering to himself, I was still coming to grips with the idea this was really happening. He was quite young it seemed, probably early twenties with well groomed hair and a clean angular face. His tattoos were clearly visible on his bare arms and I could see the lines of others under his tank top, on the bottom he wore suit pants, and I could see the sheen of patent leather shoes from the foot of Libby's bed.
Suddenly he was slammed into the mattress, underneath him half of a person had appeared, the other half was somewhere beyond the realm of my upstairs floor. The new man apparently realized this and started screaming, this caused the first man to start screaming and cursing and brandishing his gun. Without thinking I reached in and shoved the man on top, he didn't move much but it did earn me a light tap with the pistol as he swung his arms around to maintain his balance. Under him the other man was still screaming, his eyes were wide with pain or fear, I wasn't sure, but probably both. I was at a loss until the screaming man pulled his fist back into oblivion and slammed it forward, punching the angry man in the kidney, knocking the wind out of him. Taking my chance, I shoved the stunned guy off of his screaming assailant and I reached in to take the now reaching hands.
With a kick I spun myself on the wooden floor to brace my feet against the legs of the bed frame. Internally I counted to three, listening to the strained breathing of the first man as I pulled the second out of my floorboards with all my might.
---
His name was Kenichi and he spoke perfect English, when he wasn't screaming and punishing his subordinates.
After I had pulled him from under the bed he had proceeded to vomit and attack the younger man, a little bit at the same time. Needless to say, my daughter's room was a disaster, for which Kenichi had apologized, while the younger man attempted to staunch a nosebleed that was dripping onto my floor. His name was Makoto I had learned through a jumbled introduction, and what I had assumed was an apology for waving a gun in my face.
Now we sat at my kitchen table drinking tea, me in stunned silence as Makoto made monkey faces with Libby and had even given her permission to address him familiarly. Kenichi sipped his tea peacefully at the table. Neither had any idea how they had gotten under my daughter's bed in the middle of Virginia.
Kenichi had identified himself and Makoto as Japanese, and without saying he was clearly the younger man's superior. He wore a tailored suit in a dark gray and a black button up closed to his throat, the tie was missing. While he sipped his tea I noticed tattoos similar to those on the younger man peeking out from under his sleeves. As if hearing my thoughts Libby turned her large blue eyes on Makoto.
"Mako-kun, did those hurt?" Her small hand touched the tail of a dragon on his wrist and he looked to Kenichi for a moment and spat out a string of Japanese. The older man looked like his disapproved but he translated the question and Makoto's response.
"Yes, they hurt because instead of a quick needling gun, we use sharp sticks to put the ink under our skin. The process is very painful, and can take many years to complete." Libby looked at Makoto in awe as her eyes darted along his covered arms and throat.
"Do you have tattoos everywhere?!" Kenichi almost spat tea on me and Makoto turned an attractive shade of red when he was asked in a way he could understand.
"No Libby, he doesn't yet. But eventually he probably will." She looked at Kenichi and at his suit covered arms and neck.
"Mr. Kenichi, do YOU have tattoos? Mommy has a couple, she has one on her.." I managed to reach across the table and put a finger across her mouth.
"TMI baby." Kenichi was laughing again and I fought the urge to crawl under the table.
"Yes Libby, I have many tattoos."
"More than Mako-kun?" He nodded his salt and pepper head and Libby went silent with wider eyes than before, if that were possible.
I took this opportunity to tell her that it was late and that she needed to go curl up in my bed. It was still a school night after all.
When she had been tucked in I sat back at the table with my uninvited guests. Both had lost their friendly overtone for the most part, and looked completely businesslike when I returned.
"So. What are we going to do gentlemen, I can't have Japanese gangsters appearing in my apartment in the middle of the night." Kenichi smiled, like I imagine a shark might.
"And why not? I'm sure we could compensate you handsomely for providing a safe house for us?"
I snorted.
"I must look like a moron. You came out from under my daughter's bed. YOU!" I pointed at Makoto and he recoiled like I had bitten him. "YOU! Could have KILLED us. No, Kenichi, I don't think that will work for us, I have Libby to think about. I'm sure you understand." I wasn't sure, I was talking out of my ass. These two could easily get rid of me, and Libby.
"I assure you I understand, but, I can't have you just running around without supervision. I'm sure YOU understand my concerns."
"You think I'm a snitch." He tilted his head.
"It would be irresponsible of me if I didn't." I could understand that. Loose ends were a no no for these people. But he also wasn't heartless, and didn't really want to hurt my little girl, or me.
"You see Holly, my hands are quite tied."
Makoto muttered something in Japanese and Kenichi looked thoughtful.
"That may work. Holly." I perked up from my thoughts of having a revolving roster of Asian mobsters in my apartment.
"What if I bought out your lease? And then gave you enough to live comfortably away from here." There was a catch, that was too good of an offer.
"I would love that, but what's the trade Satan? Seriously, that's a devil's offer right there." He laughed loudly at me.
"I like you, it would be a shame to kill you. Especially since you could have easily called the police while I was stuck in the floor, and you helped me instead." I hadn't really thought of it that way, but I knew the offer was still bullshit, and full of holes.
"Cool, I like you too. But that didn't really answer my question. That is a lot of money to just give me because you like my jokes and think my kid is cute." I sipped my tea, it was cold now.
"Fair. You would be required to live with a guardian, one of my subordinates who will be there for your protection."
"And to make sure I don't run my mouth." I took another sip of my gross tea feeling like I was in an epic face off in a spy novel.
He nodded with his shark's smile.
"So?"
"I don't have much of a choice. That's the best option by far." Another nod from him.
"Where would you and Libby like to live?"
---
The view of Vienna was breathtaking. Flowering trees and lush blooming plants lined the bustling streets. Brightly dressed and laughing people skipped down the sidewalks and the smell of flowers and coffee wafted from the shops below our new home.
After a month of planning, and a whirlwind of new faces, courtesy of Kenichi,Libby and I had arrived to a fully furnished two story apartment in the heart of Vienna. The furniture was light wood and covered in intricate carvings and soft pale cushions. Libby's room was a masterpiece, with fantastic murals covering we walls and a bed fit for a princess. Kenichi had really outdone himself.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of our guardian and keeper. I assumed it would be a woman for the sake of propriety, so needless to say I let out a small shriek when I opened the door.
"Sup." Makoto leaned against the door frame, a bag slung over his shoulder.
"Where's my room?"
---
Thanks for reading! Any comments are greatly appreciated! | It was the haunting moans that echoed through the house that finally gave away its presence.
"Bada booooo bada bing"
"What on Earth could that be?" I thought to myself as I reached for the flashlight that I kept under my bed in case of emergencies.
"Bada booooo bada bing"
"Did I leave the television on again," I asked as I made my way down the hall. The sounds grew louder with each step I took.
"BADA BOOOOO BADA BING"
"If there is someone there, I'm armed," I yelled - trying my best to sound forceful as the only weapon I had was made not by Smith and Wesson, but rather by Coleman. I slowly opened the door to my daughter's room.
"BADA BOOOOO BADA BING"
And then I saw it. Orange skin, hair slicked back by a substance that looked like overused motor oil. The thick gold chains around its neck glistened in the light and appeared to frame an overabundance of chest hair. It wore a white button-down shirt that was unbuttoned nearly all the way down, as if to proudly show off some treasure. And then ... it saw me.
"Bada booooo....oh, how ya doin?" it asked in what was a clearly Jersey-ian accent.
"Who are you," I questioned, still unsure of who, or what, this was.
"The call me Fingers" the specter answered. "I'm here for the canolli. Capiche?"
"We have none of that here," I replied. "I think you should go."
"No canolli, eh?" The creature stood, and took a few steps toward me. "Un - fuckin - believable. You really need to fix that .. You know .. in case I ever come back, and yada-yada-yada. I'd really hate to have to ... nah .. fugettaboutit"
Without warning there was a bright light, and the smell of cheap knock-off Cuban cigars and Aqua Velva filled the room. When the light faded, I found myself alone. I carefully checked the room to make sure there were no other beings there and, content in our safety, I made my way to the kitchen. Since I was awake, I might as well grab a snack.
Unsure of what I wanted, I opened the fridge and scanned the contents. There, on the bottom shelf, was a small box marked "Finger's Italian Deli and Desserts." It contained only one item - a half-eaten canolli. | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | *Click*
"Well then." There was a gun in my face. This was a new twist of events in my nightly ritual of scaring monsters from under my daughter Libby's bed.
Behind the barrel of the gun was a frightened looking Asian man covered in tattoos. Distantly I noted that he was screaming at me in a language that I didn't quite understand, speckled with bits of English that seemed to be swearing.
"Excuse me, slow down please" He screamed at me and waved the gun violently. I put my hands up defensively and Libby giggled behind me. I imagine I looked quite funny, laying on my side peering under her bed with my hands put up in front of me like some weird rabbit. At that point I was just happy my seven year old hadn't seen the gun.
The man spat another string of his language that seemed to inflect like a question, too bad I didn't understand him. When I shrugged he pressed the gun at me and then, defeated by my stupidity apparently, he fell back against the floor, staring into the underside of the twin waterproof mattress.
While he was wallowing in self pity, and muttering to himself, I was still coming to grips with the idea this was really happening. He was quite young it seemed, probably early twenties with well groomed hair and a clean angular face. His tattoos were clearly visible on his bare arms and I could see the lines of others under his tank top, on the bottom he wore suit pants, and I could see the sheen of patent leather shoes from the foot of Libby's bed.
Suddenly he was slammed into the mattress, underneath him half of a person had appeared, the other half was somewhere beyond the realm of my upstairs floor. The new man apparently realized this and started screaming, this caused the first man to start screaming and cursing and brandishing his gun. Without thinking I reached in and shoved the man on top, he didn't move much but it did earn me a light tap with the pistol as he swung his arms around to maintain his balance. Under him the other man was still screaming, his eyes were wide with pain or fear, I wasn't sure, but probably both. I was at a loss until the screaming man pulled his fist back into oblivion and slammed it forward, punching the angry man in the kidney, knocking the wind out of him. Taking my chance, I shoved the stunned guy off of his screaming assailant and I reached in to take the now reaching hands.
With a kick I spun myself on the wooden floor to brace my feet against the legs of the bed frame. Internally I counted to three, listening to the strained breathing of the first man as I pulled the second out of my floorboards with all my might.
---
His name was Kenichi and he spoke perfect English, when he wasn't screaming and punishing his subordinates.
After I had pulled him from under the bed he had proceeded to vomit and attack the younger man, a little bit at the same time. Needless to say, my daughter's room was a disaster, for which Kenichi had apologized, while the younger man attempted to staunch a nosebleed that was dripping onto my floor. His name was Makoto I had learned through a jumbled introduction, and what I had assumed was an apology for waving a gun in my face.
Now we sat at my kitchen table drinking tea, me in stunned silence as Makoto made monkey faces with Libby and had even given her permission to address him familiarly. Kenichi sipped his tea peacefully at the table. Neither had any idea how they had gotten under my daughter's bed in the middle of Virginia.
Kenichi had identified himself and Makoto as Japanese, and without saying he was clearly the younger man's superior. He wore a tailored suit in a dark gray and a black button up closed to his throat, the tie was missing. While he sipped his tea I noticed tattoos similar to those on the younger man peeking out from under his sleeves. As if hearing my thoughts Libby turned her large blue eyes on Makoto.
"Mako-kun, did those hurt?" Her small hand touched the tail of a dragon on his wrist and he looked to Kenichi for a moment and spat out a string of Japanese. The older man looked like his disapproved but he translated the question and Makoto's response.
"Yes, they hurt because instead of a quick needling gun, we use sharp sticks to put the ink under our skin. The process is very painful, and can take many years to complete." Libby looked at Makoto in awe as her eyes darted along his covered arms and throat.
"Do you have tattoos everywhere?!" Kenichi almost spat tea on me and Makoto turned an attractive shade of red when he was asked in a way he could understand.
"No Libby, he doesn't yet. But eventually he probably will." She looked at Kenichi and at his suit covered arms and neck.
"Mr. Kenichi, do YOU have tattoos? Mommy has a couple, she has one on her.." I managed to reach across the table and put a finger across her mouth.
"TMI baby." Kenichi was laughing again and I fought the urge to crawl under the table.
"Yes Libby, I have many tattoos."
"More than Mako-kun?" He nodded his salt and pepper head and Libby went silent with wider eyes than before, if that were possible.
I took this opportunity to tell her that it was late and that she needed to go curl up in my bed. It was still a school night after all.
When she had been tucked in I sat back at the table with my uninvited guests. Both had lost their friendly overtone for the most part, and looked completely businesslike when I returned.
"So. What are we going to do gentlemen, I can't have Japanese gangsters appearing in my apartment in the middle of the night." Kenichi smiled, like I imagine a shark might.
"And why not? I'm sure we could compensate you handsomely for providing a safe house for us?"
I snorted.
"I must look like a moron. You came out from under my daughter's bed. YOU!" I pointed at Makoto and he recoiled like I had bitten him. "YOU! Could have KILLED us. No, Kenichi, I don't think that will work for us, I have Libby to think about. I'm sure you understand." I wasn't sure, I was talking out of my ass. These two could easily get rid of me, and Libby.
"I assure you I understand, but, I can't have you just running around without supervision. I'm sure YOU understand my concerns."
"You think I'm a snitch." He tilted his head.
"It would be irresponsible of me if I didn't." I could understand that. Loose ends were a no no for these people. But he also wasn't heartless, and didn't really want to hurt my little girl, or me.
"You see Holly, my hands are quite tied."
Makoto muttered something in Japanese and Kenichi looked thoughtful.
"That may work. Holly." I perked up from my thoughts of having a revolving roster of Asian mobsters in my apartment.
"What if I bought out your lease? And then gave you enough to live comfortably away from here." There was a catch, that was too good of an offer.
"I would love that, but what's the trade Satan? Seriously, that's a devil's offer right there." He laughed loudly at me.
"I like you, it would be a shame to kill you. Especially since you could have easily called the police while I was stuck in the floor, and you helped me instead." I hadn't really thought of it that way, but I knew the offer was still bullshit, and full of holes.
"Cool, I like you too. But that didn't really answer my question. That is a lot of money to just give me because you like my jokes and think my kid is cute." I sipped my tea, it was cold now.
"Fair. You would be required to live with a guardian, one of my subordinates who will be there for your protection."
"And to make sure I don't run my mouth." I took another sip of my gross tea feeling like I was in an epic face off in a spy novel.
He nodded with his shark's smile.
"So?"
"I don't have much of a choice. That's the best option by far." Another nod from him.
"Where would you and Libby like to live?"
---
The view of Vienna was breathtaking. Flowering trees and lush blooming plants lined the bustling streets. Brightly dressed and laughing people skipped down the sidewalks and the smell of flowers and coffee wafted from the shops below our new home.
After a month of planning, and a whirlwind of new faces, courtesy of Kenichi,Libby and I had arrived to a fully furnished two story apartment in the heart of Vienna. The furniture was light wood and covered in intricate carvings and soft pale cushions. Libby's room was a masterpiece, with fantastic murals covering we walls and a bed fit for a princess. Kenichi had really outdone himself.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of our guardian and keeper. I assumed it would be a woman for the sake of propriety, so needless to say I let out a small shriek when I opened the door.
"Sup." Makoto leaned against the door frame, a bag slung over his shoulder.
"Where's my room?"
---
Thanks for reading! Any comments are greatly appreciated! | "Daddy! There's a mobster under my bed"
"Daddy! Come!! Daddy"
"Here we go again" - I said to my wife as I rolled my eyes.
Little Cassie had been having nightmares for three straight days. Screaming about terrible monsters haunting her in her dreams. She seemed to have a knack for waking me up at 3 a.m. I couldn't help but think that she did it on purpose.
Life had really been hard lately. Not being able to sleep more than two hours straight without waking up to screams. Being flooded with work every day and, with my beloved wife turning into a shopping monster with my new promotion, it felt like a stressful way to climb up the corporate ladder.
It's strange to think that about a month ago, I genuinely believed hard work would pay off. Oh how wrong I was. Three straight years working my ass off and not a single reward. Not even a couple of words of encouragement. Nothing. I was pretty much invisible.
That all changed when I met Tony. We met at a small party. He was a small, ball-headed man that seemed like the most popular guy at school (You know, the star quarterback that dated the prettiest cheerleader and had a 4.0 GPA). He had a small gold chains that swayed from side to side as he talked with a certain cockiness that, somehow, didn't make you want to leave.
As the night went by, guests started slowly leaving until we were the only ones. He stared at me as he knew my whole entire life. After a small puff of his cigar, he asked:
"Where do you work, dear John?"
A small drip of sweat confirmed my thoughts: I was talking to a star.
"At River Side Bank" - I quickly answered
"Really? Do you happen to know Rick Stamos?"
"Of course, he's my boss"
"Wow! What about Cooper Mortinson?"
"Yep, nice guy"- I had never really talked to him, he was a revered person at the office.
As he kept asking about familiar names, I couldn't help but think that I had seen this man before. Was it at the bank? Probably, I mean he knew pretty much everyone over there.
We kept talking for a while about banking, until he finally asked:
"Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. But now I need to know if your loyal"
He took out a small pocket knife and drove it toward my neck, stopping just before my jugular exploded.
"The Feds are coming soon and you reported some interesting information to your boss"
My hands were sweating like a cold river down my spine. My face was as red as a strawberry with asthma after a basketball game.
"Would you rather have a promotion? Or something happen to your little girl?"
I gasped for air and answered the only possible answer:
"I'll keep my mouth shut"
"Great, loved doing business with you"
Tony coolly grabbed his jacket and left. I nerdily grabbed my inhaler and tried to catch my breath. Some things never changed in the world: cool kids always rule.
I clumsily walked to Cassie's room and turned on the light. There was my beautiful angel staring like a frightened deer. As I made my way over, a small man made his way from under the bed.
"Hello John. Someone has been talking."
A cold shiver shook me throughout as I heard those frightening words.
"Cassie, go get Mom and tell her to leave."
"That wouldn't be ver smart, John"
"Please don't hurt them Tony"
"Oh foolish John! You crack me up! Of course I won't. I just need to shut the rat up"
He took a small revolver, pointed at me and shot. Everything was over and the only thought in my head was: cool kids always rule. | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | "Daddy!" she screeched, "Wont you come help me, please!"
"Sweetheart, I'm here," I cooed, quickly calming her pleas.
"What's the matter?" I asked taking a place by her side.
"A monster," she whispered, "*Beneath the bed,* does reside!"
"A *monster* you say?" with much mirth I replied;
"With *red eyes* and *horns,* on its outside?
Does it have pointed teeth, and claws made of stone? -
Are you sure there's just one? Are you sure *it's alone*?"
"*Mobster*, dad," she replied wide eyed and alert.
"It wears a pinstriped suit and a fine silken shirt,
A gun in it's trousers is tightly tucked,
And he said if we rat him we're going to be-"
"Honey!" I yelled, quickly cutting her off,
"Mobsters down there?" I scornfully scoffed.
"Preposterous! Silly! There's nothing to fear-"
When from under the bed, *Copone* did appear!
"Excuse me," he said, with a curt tip of his hat,
"Your daughter is right - but I have no time to chat,
I have places to go and many peoples to whack.
So respect your daughter, or I might just be back!"
| "Daddy! There's a mobster under my bed"
"Daddy! Come!! Daddy"
"Here we go again" - I said to my wife as I rolled my eyes.
Little Cassie had been having nightmares for three straight days. Screaming about terrible monsters haunting her in her dreams. She seemed to have a knack for waking me up at 3 a.m. I couldn't help but think that she did it on purpose.
Life had really been hard lately. Not being able to sleep more than two hours straight without waking up to screams. Being flooded with work every day and, with my beloved wife turning into a shopping monster with my new promotion, it felt like a stressful way to climb up the corporate ladder.
It's strange to think that about a month ago, I genuinely believed hard work would pay off. Oh how wrong I was. Three straight years working my ass off and not a single reward. Not even a couple of words of encouragement. Nothing. I was pretty much invisible.
That all changed when I met Tony. We met at a small party. He was a small, ball-headed man that seemed like the most popular guy at school (You know, the star quarterback that dated the prettiest cheerleader and had a 4.0 GPA). He had a small gold chains that swayed from side to side as he talked with a certain cockiness that, somehow, didn't make you want to leave.
As the night went by, guests started slowly leaving until we were the only ones. He stared at me as he knew my whole entire life. After a small puff of his cigar, he asked:
"Where do you work, dear John?"
A small drip of sweat confirmed my thoughts: I was talking to a star.
"At River Side Bank" - I quickly answered
"Really? Do you happen to know Rick Stamos?"
"Of course, he's my boss"
"Wow! What about Cooper Mortinson?"
"Yep, nice guy"- I had never really talked to him, he was a revered person at the office.
As he kept asking about familiar names, I couldn't help but think that I had seen this man before. Was it at the bank? Probably, I mean he knew pretty much everyone over there.
We kept talking for a while about banking, until he finally asked:
"Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. But now I need to know if your loyal"
He took out a small pocket knife and drove it toward my neck, stopping just before my jugular exploded.
"The Feds are coming soon and you reported some interesting information to your boss"
My hands were sweating like a cold river down my spine. My face was as red as a strawberry with asthma after a basketball game.
"Would you rather have a promotion? Or something happen to your little girl?"
I gasped for air and answered the only possible answer:
"I'll keep my mouth shut"
"Great, loved doing business with you"
Tony coolly grabbed his jacket and left. I nerdily grabbed my inhaler and tried to catch my breath. Some things never changed in the world: cool kids always rule.
I clumsily walked to Cassie's room and turned on the light. There was my beautiful angel staring like a frightened deer. As I made my way over, a small man made his way from under the bed.
"Hello John. Someone has been talking."
A cold shiver shook me throughout as I heard those frightening words.
"Cassie, go get Mom and tell her to leave."
"That wouldn't be ver smart, John"
"Please don't hurt them Tony"
"Oh foolish John! You crack me up! Of course I won't. I just need to shut the rat up"
He took a small revolver, pointed at me and shot. Everything was over and the only thought in my head was: cool kids always rule. | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | "Muuuuuuum! Daaaaaaaaaaaad!" Ivy screams as she bursts through my door. I jolt straight up and look at her, her Dora the Explorer pajamas stained with urine down the leg. "There is a mobster under my bed!"
"Alright sweetie," I reply rubbing my eyes and looking over at my now rudely awoken wife. "I got this." I say, patting her on the back and standing out of bed. I move over to the closet and grab a wooden baseball bat. "You stay in here darlin', but take off your pants." I move past my daughter and saunter with a slumbering stride towards her room.
I move through the archway into her room with a cough. I take a large sniff of air, smell the piss she had left behind and slightly gag. The walls were adorned with fairies, unicorns, as well as a poster of One Direction.
I hate One Direction so much. You don't know you're beautiful my ass.
"Look out monster, I'm here to get you," I say with a boom, loud enough that Ivy could hear me in the other room. Ivy always felt more assured if I narrated a scary tale as I scanned her room. "I've got a bat, a big one at that, and I'm gonna club your head, till you're dead." She especially loved the rhymes. I moved over to the bed and became uneasy. It was moving with slight bumps, as if something was under the bed.
I felt a chill before I ducked under to check. Her bedroom window was open. With furious speed, I checked under the bed to see a blood-stained man cowering in fear.
"Johnny?" I bit out. His bones rattled for a few seconds before replying to me.
"Ay... Ay boss," he murmured. "I got the wrong room." I grab Johnny and pull him out from under the bed, blood slicking the trail he just know made.
"Yeah, you got the wrong fuckin' room. What the fuck happened to you?" I try my best to remain quiet as I talk now, lest not alert my family.
"Deal went bad," Johnny coughed up a heap of blood and mucus into his hand before continuing to speak. "Romero's weren't happy with the product."
"So you decided to run here?" I could feel the venom drip out of my tongue as I spoke. "Scare the literal piss out of Ivy."
"I'm sor-" I punch him across the mouth. One of his teeth broke off into my index finger knuckle and cut deep.
"Sorry ain't gonna fuckin' cut it here Johnny." I put the bat against the side of Johnny's head lightly and watch the fear drain through his body. "Now, I see what ya did. Part of me even respects it."
"I didn't know what else to do Boss! They shot everyone else that went! I... I..." Johnny's blubbering as he spoke was almost as insulting as him fleeing to me. At my home. With my family.
"Shhh..." I say to Johnny, leaning down and placing my hand on the back of his head. "It's okay Johnny. It's okay."
"Is it boss?" Johnny looks up to me. That little glint of hope in his eyes was... endearing.
"Of course fuckin' not." I crash the bat down across the side of his head. A large spray of blood soaked the walls, including that One Direction fucking poster, and continued to layer everything in cathartic carnage. With every whack I felt his skull cave a little bit more, his arms break just a fracture more, his chest collapse into his lungs and his soul break.
My arms were heavy after a few minutes. I'd spent every bit of energy I had turning Johnny into a bloody pulp. I dropped the bat on the ground, walked back out the door and slowly towards the room with my darling daughter and my gorgeous wife. The look of shock on both their faces was daunting.
"Monsters dead baby," I say to Ivy who was tearing up. "Daddy took care of it."
"Bu...but Dad," Ivy spoke out to me with a whimper. "It was Johnny. It was your friend, wasn't it?" I knelled down and made eye contact with my little girl.
"Monsters dead baby," I put my hands across the side of her head and held it tight, so she couldn't turn away from me. "Daddy. Took. Care. Of. It."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you liked this, check out /r/Rhysyjay | "Daddy! There's a mobster under my bed"
"Daddy! Come!! Daddy"
"Here we go again" - I said to my wife as I rolled my eyes.
Little Cassie had been having nightmares for three straight days. Screaming about terrible monsters haunting her in her dreams. She seemed to have a knack for waking me up at 3 a.m. I couldn't help but think that she did it on purpose.
Life had really been hard lately. Not being able to sleep more than two hours straight without waking up to screams. Being flooded with work every day and, with my beloved wife turning into a shopping monster with my new promotion, it felt like a stressful way to climb up the corporate ladder.
It's strange to think that about a month ago, I genuinely believed hard work would pay off. Oh how wrong I was. Three straight years working my ass off and not a single reward. Not even a couple of words of encouragement. Nothing. I was pretty much invisible.
That all changed when I met Tony. We met at a small party. He was a small, ball-headed man that seemed like the most popular guy at school (You know, the star quarterback that dated the prettiest cheerleader and had a 4.0 GPA). He had a small gold chains that swayed from side to side as he talked with a certain cockiness that, somehow, didn't make you want to leave.
As the night went by, guests started slowly leaving until we were the only ones. He stared at me as he knew my whole entire life. After a small puff of his cigar, he asked:
"Where do you work, dear John?"
A small drip of sweat confirmed my thoughts: I was talking to a star.
"At River Side Bank" - I quickly answered
"Really? Do you happen to know Rick Stamos?"
"Of course, he's my boss"
"Wow! What about Cooper Mortinson?"
"Yep, nice guy"- I had never really talked to him, he was a revered person at the office.
As he kept asking about familiar names, I couldn't help but think that I had seen this man before. Was it at the bank? Probably, I mean he knew pretty much everyone over there.
We kept talking for a while about banking, until he finally asked:
"Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. But now I need to know if your loyal"
He took out a small pocket knife and drove it toward my neck, stopping just before my jugular exploded.
"The Feds are coming soon and you reported some interesting information to your boss"
My hands were sweating like a cold river down my spine. My face was as red as a strawberry with asthma after a basketball game.
"Would you rather have a promotion? Or something happen to your little girl?"
I gasped for air and answered the only possible answer:
"I'll keep my mouth shut"
"Great, loved doing business with you"
Tony coolly grabbed his jacket and left. I nerdily grabbed my inhaler and tried to catch my breath. Some things never changed in the world: cool kids always rule.
I clumsily walked to Cassie's room and turned on the light. There was my beautiful angel staring like a frightened deer. As I made my way over, a small man made his way from under the bed.
"Hello John. Someone has been talking."
A cold shiver shook me throughout as I heard those frightening words.
"Cassie, go get Mom and tell her to leave."
"That wouldn't be ver smart, John"
"Please don't hurt them Tony"
"Oh foolish John! You crack me up! Of course I won't. I just need to shut the rat up"
He took a small revolver, pointed at me and shot. Everything was over and the only thought in my head was: cool kids always rule. | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | God if I have to make another trip up these stairs. It's easy for her, she's still so young, but every time she yells I've got to make this damn walk and tell her everything is fine.
It's hard enough to even hear her bellowing. I worked the best part of my life in a factory, with the clang of machinery. Don't even think of asking how many decades, but it was more than most of you lot have been around. I've lost my upper registers of hearing. Some of the middle too. All of the lower.
Coming down. Jesus, walking down these fucking things is probably harder than walking up them, and I'm taking my time because... well, stopping at every goddamn step is easier than prancing down them like the gazelle I used to be.
It gives me some time to think, and makes me wonder. Why? Susan isn't the scared type. She's normally so mature, so controlled. But I can't seem to settle her tonight, she's all panicky. So why is she making up such ridiculous stories? She keeps saying it's there, it's under the bed. I don't understand what could have prompted it. I'll tell you what I'm **not** going to do, and that's check. Not least because bending over is a one way trip, but officially because I don't want to encourage this sort of behaviour.
She's not a scaredy cat, she knows the difference between reality and fantasy. And it's not like she has allergies. I told her it couldn't possibly be here. They're just not found around here. How the hell would one even be under her bed?! It's just silly. I told her she's too old for this nonsense. I told her that everything was fine. But she just keeps saying it. Keeps telling me what's there, under her bed. I get it, I get it, you don't have to keep saying it.
Honestly, why would a 25 year old woman be afraid of a lobster anyway? | "Daddy! There's a mobster under my bed"
"Daddy! Come!! Daddy"
"Here we go again" - I said to my wife as I rolled my eyes.
Little Cassie had been having nightmares for three straight days. Screaming about terrible monsters haunting her in her dreams. She seemed to have a knack for waking me up at 3 a.m. I couldn't help but think that she did it on purpose.
Life had really been hard lately. Not being able to sleep more than two hours straight without waking up to screams. Being flooded with work every day and, with my beloved wife turning into a shopping monster with my new promotion, it felt like a stressful way to climb up the corporate ladder.
It's strange to think that about a month ago, I genuinely believed hard work would pay off. Oh how wrong I was. Three straight years working my ass off and not a single reward. Not even a couple of words of encouragement. Nothing. I was pretty much invisible.
That all changed when I met Tony. We met at a small party. He was a small, ball-headed man that seemed like the most popular guy at school (You know, the star quarterback that dated the prettiest cheerleader and had a 4.0 GPA). He had a small gold chains that swayed from side to side as he talked with a certain cockiness that, somehow, didn't make you want to leave.
As the night went by, guests started slowly leaving until we were the only ones. He stared at me as he knew my whole entire life. After a small puff of his cigar, he asked:
"Where do you work, dear John?"
A small drip of sweat confirmed my thoughts: I was talking to a star.
"At River Side Bank" - I quickly answered
"Really? Do you happen to know Rick Stamos?"
"Of course, he's my boss"
"Wow! What about Cooper Mortinson?"
"Yep, nice guy"- I had never really talked to him, he was a revered person at the office.
As he kept asking about familiar names, I couldn't help but think that I had seen this man before. Was it at the bank? Probably, I mean he knew pretty much everyone over there.
We kept talking for a while about banking, until he finally asked:
"Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. But now I need to know if your loyal"
He took out a small pocket knife and drove it toward my neck, stopping just before my jugular exploded.
"The Feds are coming soon and you reported some interesting information to your boss"
My hands were sweating like a cold river down my spine. My face was as red as a strawberry with asthma after a basketball game.
"Would you rather have a promotion? Or something happen to your little girl?"
I gasped for air and answered the only possible answer:
"I'll keep my mouth shut"
"Great, loved doing business with you"
Tony coolly grabbed his jacket and left. I nerdily grabbed my inhaler and tried to catch my breath. Some things never changed in the world: cool kids always rule.
I clumsily walked to Cassie's room and turned on the light. There was my beautiful angel staring like a frightened deer. As I made my way over, a small man made his way from under the bed.
"Hello John. Someone has been talking."
A cold shiver shook me throughout as I heard those frightening words.
"Cassie, go get Mom and tell her to leave."
"That wouldn't be ver smart, John"
"Please don't hurt them Tony"
"Oh foolish John! You crack me up! Of course I won't. I just need to shut the rat up"
He took a small revolver, pointed at me and shot. Everything was over and the only thought in my head was: cool kids always rule. | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | I must have looked pretty shady, but everyone does in this neighborhood. So nobody even questioned or made a second glass as I walked through to the backyard of the suburban two flat.
I read the note again "he always leaves the back window unlocked, we took care of the dog"
Whew, good, I hate dogs.
I moved right in to the wooden porch over looking a huge backyard sprinkled with various toys that were never cleaned up
"Oh shit Little Jimmy has a kid?" I whispered to myself as I fumbled with the window. I never remembed Little Jimmy having one while he was with the Sardinos, but life can move fast I guess.
I slipped through the window and into a lavish kitchen. A little too lavish for what I knew about Little Jimmy, but maybe his wife whipped that outta him.
I made a quick check through the house, every room with the fanciest appliance or furnishing you could think off, and I dialed the Bosses number.
"Are you in" he said gruffly
"Yeah, Little Jimmy got straighted up"
"Dont matta now, you know what to do. Even if his family is there, hes gotta pay"
He hung up. But my mind kept wondering. Something seemed strange. I went up stairs a bit more sliently, since I didnt know if anyone was up there, and poked around more.
I walked quietly into the master bedroom, silk sheeted king sized bed engulfing the room which was 40 times bigger than my apartment. He really was living large.
I checked the room across the hall, a pink room filled with cartoon character plushies, and drawings of animals scribbled in crayon.
"I hope shes at a slumber party or something" I said to myself.
All the sudden *DOOF* I hear the front door open downstairs and the shuffle of footsteps.
"Ah fuck, they arent supposed to be home yet"
I frantically look around the room for a place to hide, and seeing nowhere good. I slid underneath the bed, hiding under the pink blankets that extended over the bed.
The house was of course, huge, yet I could hear the family talking as if they were in the room with me and the stuffed German Sheppard that was under the bed as well
"Im so sorry you're tired sweetie, did the movie make you sleepy?" A womans voice said softly
"Yeah" a little girls voice said
"Aw sweetie, im glad we left early, you get a good nights sleep, Ill tuck you in in a second" said a voice that was totally not Little Jimmy.
"Who the fuck..." I said as I double checked the address on my phone. 143 West 56th Street is definitely where I was at.
I punched in the address to my phone. The gps pin flew a bit down the block.
"What in the hell"
I didnt have much more time mumble to myself because little footsteps were tap tap taping against the wood stairs, getting ever so louder.
Every tap driving home that I have 5 counts of murder, 6 armed robberies, 3 assaults, and a very long time in jail if I get caught.
The door opened, and the thud of the plop on the bed echoed the weight on top of me. Im not sure how much time passed, but it felt like days. The rest of the house filled with a movie whoever was downstairs was watching.
Yeah... filled the house, like, theres no way this girls falling asleep. Do I shoot my way out? Do I just run? Whaaat do I...
"Wait" said that evil, childs voice "wheres Mr.Snuffles".
I looked at the stuffed dog next to me, beady dark eyes staring into the void. Please do not be Mr.Snuffles.
I won the worlds worst game show because sure enough, the light filled the underside of the bed. And that blonde pigtailed girl who looked no older than 7 screamed worse than any murder victim Id ever laid my knife on. She turned and ran as fast as her little legs could go.
I raced after her, originally to kill her, but I had enough things to worry about. At the bottom of the stairs, she went left into the living room, I went right towards the kitchen. I kicked open the door to the patio, just over hearing the girl tell whoever that there was a mobster under her bed, and I ran out into the night.
I didnt know what I was going to tell the boss. But between being ratted out by a stuffed dog and not knowing how to use a GPS, I knew he wasnt gonna be happy with me. | "Daddy! There's a mobster under my bed"
"Daddy! Come!! Daddy"
"Here we go again" - I said to my wife as I rolled my eyes.
Little Cassie had been having nightmares for three straight days. Screaming about terrible monsters haunting her in her dreams. She seemed to have a knack for waking me up at 3 a.m. I couldn't help but think that she did it on purpose.
Life had really been hard lately. Not being able to sleep more than two hours straight without waking up to screams. Being flooded with work every day and, with my beloved wife turning into a shopping monster with my new promotion, it felt like a stressful way to climb up the corporate ladder.
It's strange to think that about a month ago, I genuinely believed hard work would pay off. Oh how wrong I was. Three straight years working my ass off and not a single reward. Not even a couple of words of encouragement. Nothing. I was pretty much invisible.
That all changed when I met Tony. We met at a small party. He was a small, ball-headed man that seemed like the most popular guy at school (You know, the star quarterback that dated the prettiest cheerleader and had a 4.0 GPA). He had a small gold chains that swayed from side to side as he talked with a certain cockiness that, somehow, didn't make you want to leave.
As the night went by, guests started slowly leaving until we were the only ones. He stared at me as he knew my whole entire life. After a small puff of his cigar, he asked:
"Where do you work, dear John?"
A small drip of sweat confirmed my thoughts: I was talking to a star.
"At River Side Bank" - I quickly answered
"Really? Do you happen to know Rick Stamos?"
"Of course, he's my boss"
"Wow! What about Cooper Mortinson?"
"Yep, nice guy"- I had never really talked to him, he was a revered person at the office.
As he kept asking about familiar names, I couldn't help but think that I had seen this man before. Was it at the bank? Probably, I mean he knew pretty much everyone over there.
We kept talking for a while about banking, until he finally asked:
"Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. But now I need to know if your loyal"
He took out a small pocket knife and drove it toward my neck, stopping just before my jugular exploded.
"The Feds are coming soon and you reported some interesting information to your boss"
My hands were sweating like a cold river down my spine. My face was as red as a strawberry with asthma after a basketball game.
"Would you rather have a promotion? Or something happen to your little girl?"
I gasped for air and answered the only possible answer:
"I'll keep my mouth shut"
"Great, loved doing business with you"
Tony coolly grabbed his jacket and left. I nerdily grabbed my inhaler and tried to catch my breath. Some things never changed in the world: cool kids always rule.
I clumsily walked to Cassie's room and turned on the light. There was my beautiful angel staring like a frightened deer. As I made my way over, a small man made his way from under the bed.
"Hello John. Someone has been talking."
A cold shiver shook me throughout as I heard those frightening words.
"Cassie, go get Mom and tell her to leave."
"That wouldn't be ver smart, John"
"Please don't hurt them Tony"
"Oh foolish John! You crack me up! Of course I won't. I just need to shut the rat up"
He took a small revolver, pointed at me and shot. Everything was over and the only thought in my head was: cool kids always rule. | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | Stephen walked through the hallway with slow heavy steps and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "I'm on my way, Sarah."
He didn't so much say the words rather than dribble them past his mumbling lips.
The sound of his flip-flopping furry slippers announced his arrival and he pushed open the disney-decorated door.
He carefully peeked inside, scanning the room.
Sarah sat in the corner of her bed, tightly gripping a pillow and pressing it to her face.
Stephen flashed a tired smile, "Sarah, honey. What's wrong?"
She spoke with her face still buried in her pillow, "Dabby, thers a maobster."
He walked over to the bed and messed up her hair, "There's no such thing as monsters." he said with a reassuring smile.
Her innocent eyes moved from the pillow to her father, "Can you make sure?" she pleaded.
Stephen crouched down on painful knees and peeked under the bed, getting ready to diligently inspect dust bunnies and old stuffed animals.
His eyes moved like a lighthouse light across a harbor, passing over the mobster hidden between stuffed animals.
He slowly rose to his feet, mumbled something about back-pain, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and had a second look.
Stephen locked eyes with a portly man wearing a striped suit and a scowl, "Wise guy, eh?" hissed the man.
Feeling quite awake, Stephen jumped to his feet and kicked the bed frame.
"*Bada-bing...*" growled the bed frame.
Stephen kicked the bed frame again, "Get out of there!"
The mobster scurried out of his hiding place like a fat squirrel on ice.
He swept his hand beneath the bed and retrieved his brimmed hat before standing a full 5 feet tall.
Sarah bolted from her bed and hid behind her father, who weakly gestured towards the bed, "Why were you under my daughter's bed?"
The man donned his hat and shrugged, "Laying low."
"But *why*?" repeated Stephen.
The mobster chuckled, "I can't very well stand in there, can I?" he said with a wry smile, "I mean, c'mon. Look at it."
Stephen rolled his eyes, "Oh, so you're a comedian now."
The man smirked and retrieved a cigar from his coat pocket, pinched off the end using a cutter, and lit it.
He inhaled deeply and puffed forth a cloud of smoke, "No," he said through clenched teeth, "No funny business."
"An *acquaintance* of ours has been hesitant to make his payments," explained the mobster, "I'm here to remind him."
Stephen rubbed his forehead, "Hold on, you're using this room as a black market meet-up?"
"That's right," confirmed the mobster, he finished the remainder of his cigar and flicked it across the room, "Although the client doesn't exactly know we're meeting-up, if you catch my drift."
Stephen raised an eyebrow, "An ambush? You're ambushing this client from beneath my daughter's bed?"
The mobster raised his hands apologetically, "Under beds is just the sort of place their kind likes to be."
Stephen started when the doorknob of the closet began to rattle.
The mobster reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handgun, "But they get in through the closet."
The hinges of the closet door creaked in protest, the door was carefully opened by a small green hand.
Stephen hastily took his daughter's hand and fled towards the hallway.
The mobster cocked his gun and pointed it towards the closet, his voice was ice, "We've been eagerly awaiting your payments, Mr. Wazowski."
| "Daddy! There's a mobster under my bed"
"Daddy! Come!! Daddy"
"Here we go again" - I said to my wife as I rolled my eyes.
Little Cassie had been having nightmares for three straight days. Screaming about terrible monsters haunting her in her dreams. She seemed to have a knack for waking me up at 3 a.m. I couldn't help but think that she did it on purpose.
Life had really been hard lately. Not being able to sleep more than two hours straight without waking up to screams. Being flooded with work every day and, with my beloved wife turning into a shopping monster with my new promotion, it felt like a stressful way to climb up the corporate ladder.
It's strange to think that about a month ago, I genuinely believed hard work would pay off. Oh how wrong I was. Three straight years working my ass off and not a single reward. Not even a couple of words of encouragement. Nothing. I was pretty much invisible.
That all changed when I met Tony. We met at a small party. He was a small, ball-headed man that seemed like the most popular guy at school (You know, the star quarterback that dated the prettiest cheerleader and had a 4.0 GPA). He had a small gold chains that swayed from side to side as he talked with a certain cockiness that, somehow, didn't make you want to leave.
As the night went by, guests started slowly leaving until we were the only ones. He stared at me as he knew my whole entire life. After a small puff of his cigar, he asked:
"Where do you work, dear John?"
A small drip of sweat confirmed my thoughts: I was talking to a star.
"At River Side Bank" - I quickly answered
"Really? Do you happen to know Rick Stamos?"
"Of course, he's my boss"
"Wow! What about Cooper Mortinson?"
"Yep, nice guy"- I had never really talked to him, he was a revered person at the office.
As he kept asking about familiar names, I couldn't help but think that I had seen this man before. Was it at the bank? Probably, I mean he knew pretty much everyone over there.
We kept talking for a while about banking, until he finally asked:
"Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. But now I need to know if your loyal"
He took out a small pocket knife and drove it toward my neck, stopping just before my jugular exploded.
"The Feds are coming soon and you reported some interesting information to your boss"
My hands were sweating like a cold river down my spine. My face was as red as a strawberry with asthma after a basketball game.
"Would you rather have a promotion? Or something happen to your little girl?"
I gasped for air and answered the only possible answer:
"I'll keep my mouth shut"
"Great, loved doing business with you"
Tony coolly grabbed his jacket and left. I nerdily grabbed my inhaler and tried to catch my breath. Some things never changed in the world: cool kids always rule.
I clumsily walked to Cassie's room and turned on the light. There was my beautiful angel staring like a frightened deer. As I made my way over, a small man made his way from under the bed.
"Hello John. Someone has been talking."
A cold shiver shook me throughout as I heard those frightening words.
"Cassie, go get Mom and tell her to leave."
"That wouldn't be ver smart, John"
"Please don't hurt them Tony"
"Oh foolish John! You crack me up! Of course I won't. I just need to shut the rat up"
He took a small revolver, pointed at me and shot. Everything was over and the only thought in my head was: cool kids always rule. | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | God if I have to make another trip up these stairs. It's easy for her, she's still so young, but every time she yells I've got to make this damn walk and tell her everything is fine.
It's hard enough to even hear her bellowing. I worked the best part of my life in a factory, with the clang of machinery. Don't even think of asking how many decades, but it was more than most of you lot have been around. I've lost my upper registers of hearing. Some of the middle too. All of the lower.
Coming down. Jesus, walking down these fucking things is probably harder than walking up them, and I'm taking my time because... well, stopping at every goddamn step is easier than prancing down them like the gazelle I used to be.
It gives me some time to think, and makes me wonder. Why? Susan isn't the scared type. She's normally so mature, so controlled. But I can't seem to settle her tonight, she's all panicky. So why is she making up such ridiculous stories? She keeps saying it's there, it's under the bed. I don't understand what could have prompted it. I'll tell you what I'm **not** going to do, and that's check. Not least because bending over is a one way trip, but officially because I don't want to encourage this sort of behaviour.
She's not a scaredy cat, she knows the difference between reality and fantasy. And it's not like she has allergies. I told her it couldn't possibly be here. They're just not found around here. How the hell would one even be under her bed?! It's just silly. I told her she's too old for this nonsense. I told her that everything was fine. But she just keeps saying it. Keeps telling me what's there, under her bed. I get it, I get it, you don't have to keep saying it.
Honestly, why would a 25 year old woman be afraid of a lobster anyway? | "Muuuuuuum! Daaaaaaaaaaaad!" Ivy screams as she bursts through my door. I jolt straight up and look at her, her Dora the Explorer pajamas stained with urine down the leg. "There is a mobster under my bed!"
"Alright sweetie," I reply rubbing my eyes and looking over at my now rudely awoken wife. "I got this." I say, patting her on the back and standing out of bed. I move over to the closet and grab a wooden baseball bat. "You stay in here darlin', but take off your pants." I move past my daughter and saunter with a slumbering stride towards her room.
I move through the archway into her room with a cough. I take a large sniff of air, smell the piss she had left behind and slightly gag. The walls were adorned with fairies, unicorns, as well as a poster of One Direction.
I hate One Direction so much. You don't know you're beautiful my ass.
"Look out monster, I'm here to get you," I say with a boom, loud enough that Ivy could hear me in the other room. Ivy always felt more assured if I narrated a scary tale as I scanned her room. "I've got a bat, a big one at that, and I'm gonna club your head, till you're dead." She especially loved the rhymes. I moved over to the bed and became uneasy. It was moving with slight bumps, as if something was under the bed.
I felt a chill before I ducked under to check. Her bedroom window was open. With furious speed, I checked under the bed to see a blood-stained man cowering in fear.
"Johnny?" I bit out. His bones rattled for a few seconds before replying to me.
"Ay... Ay boss," he murmured. "I got the wrong room." I grab Johnny and pull him out from under the bed, blood slicking the trail he just know made.
"Yeah, you got the wrong fuckin' room. What the fuck happened to you?" I try my best to remain quiet as I talk now, lest not alert my family.
"Deal went bad," Johnny coughed up a heap of blood and mucus into his hand before continuing to speak. "Romero's weren't happy with the product."
"So you decided to run here?" I could feel the venom drip out of my tongue as I spoke. "Scare the literal piss out of Ivy."
"I'm sor-" I punch him across the mouth. One of his teeth broke off into my index finger knuckle and cut deep.
"Sorry ain't gonna fuckin' cut it here Johnny." I put the bat against the side of Johnny's head lightly and watch the fear drain through his body. "Now, I see what ya did. Part of me even respects it."
"I didn't know what else to do Boss! They shot everyone else that went! I... I..." Johnny's blubbering as he spoke was almost as insulting as him fleeing to me. At my home. With my family.
"Shhh..." I say to Johnny, leaning down and placing my hand on the back of his head. "It's okay Johnny. It's okay."
"Is it boss?" Johnny looks up to me. That little glint of hope in his eyes was... endearing.
"Of course fuckin' not." I crash the bat down across the side of his head. A large spray of blood soaked the walls, including that One Direction fucking poster, and continued to layer everything in cathartic carnage. With every whack I felt his skull cave a little bit more, his arms break just a fracture more, his chest collapse into his lungs and his soul break.
My arms were heavy after a few minutes. I'd spent every bit of energy I had turning Johnny into a bloody pulp. I dropped the bat on the ground, walked back out the door and slowly towards the room with my darling daughter and my gorgeous wife. The look of shock on both their faces was daunting.
"Monsters dead baby," I say to Ivy who was tearing up. "Daddy took care of it."
"Bu...but Dad," Ivy spoke out to me with a whimper. "It was Johnny. It was your friend, wasn't it?" I knelled down and made eye contact with my little girl.
"Monsters dead baby," I put my hands across the side of her head and held it tight, so she couldn't turn away from me. "Daddy. Took. Care. Of. It."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you liked this, check out /r/Rhysyjay | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | I must have looked pretty shady, but everyone does in this neighborhood. So nobody even questioned or made a second glass as I walked through to the backyard of the suburban two flat.
I read the note again "he always leaves the back window unlocked, we took care of the dog"
Whew, good, I hate dogs.
I moved right in to the wooden porch over looking a huge backyard sprinkled with various toys that were never cleaned up
"Oh shit Little Jimmy has a kid?" I whispered to myself as I fumbled with the window. I never remembed Little Jimmy having one while he was with the Sardinos, but life can move fast I guess.
I slipped through the window and into a lavish kitchen. A little too lavish for what I knew about Little Jimmy, but maybe his wife whipped that outta him.
I made a quick check through the house, every room with the fanciest appliance or furnishing you could think off, and I dialed the Bosses number.
"Are you in" he said gruffly
"Yeah, Little Jimmy got straighted up"
"Dont matta now, you know what to do. Even if his family is there, hes gotta pay"
He hung up. But my mind kept wondering. Something seemed strange. I went up stairs a bit more sliently, since I didnt know if anyone was up there, and poked around more.
I walked quietly into the master bedroom, silk sheeted king sized bed engulfing the room which was 40 times bigger than my apartment. He really was living large.
I checked the room across the hall, a pink room filled with cartoon character plushies, and drawings of animals scribbled in crayon.
"I hope shes at a slumber party or something" I said to myself.
All the sudden *DOOF* I hear the front door open downstairs and the shuffle of footsteps.
"Ah fuck, they arent supposed to be home yet"
I frantically look around the room for a place to hide, and seeing nowhere good. I slid underneath the bed, hiding under the pink blankets that extended over the bed.
The house was of course, huge, yet I could hear the family talking as if they were in the room with me and the stuffed German Sheppard that was under the bed as well
"Im so sorry you're tired sweetie, did the movie make you sleepy?" A womans voice said softly
"Yeah" a little girls voice said
"Aw sweetie, im glad we left early, you get a good nights sleep, Ill tuck you in in a second" said a voice that was totally not Little Jimmy.
"Who the fuck..." I said as I double checked the address on my phone. 143 West 56th Street is definitely where I was at.
I punched in the address to my phone. The gps pin flew a bit down the block.
"What in the hell"
I didnt have much more time mumble to myself because little footsteps were tap tap taping against the wood stairs, getting ever so louder.
Every tap driving home that I have 5 counts of murder, 6 armed robberies, 3 assaults, and a very long time in jail if I get caught.
The door opened, and the thud of the plop on the bed echoed the weight on top of me. Im not sure how much time passed, but it felt like days. The rest of the house filled with a movie whoever was downstairs was watching.
Yeah... filled the house, like, theres no way this girls falling asleep. Do I shoot my way out? Do I just run? Whaaat do I...
"Wait" said that evil, childs voice "wheres Mr.Snuffles".
I looked at the stuffed dog next to me, beady dark eyes staring into the void. Please do not be Mr.Snuffles.
I won the worlds worst game show because sure enough, the light filled the underside of the bed. And that blonde pigtailed girl who looked no older than 7 screamed worse than any murder victim Id ever laid my knife on. She turned and ran as fast as her little legs could go.
I raced after her, originally to kill her, but I had enough things to worry about. At the bottom of the stairs, she went left into the living room, I went right towards the kitchen. I kicked open the door to the patio, just over hearing the girl tell whoever that there was a mobster under her bed, and I ran out into the night.
I didnt know what I was going to tell the boss. But between being ratted out by a stuffed dog and not knowing how to use a GPS, I knew he wasnt gonna be happy with me. | "Muuuuuuum! Daaaaaaaaaaaad!" Ivy screams as she bursts through my door. I jolt straight up and look at her, her Dora the Explorer pajamas stained with urine down the leg. "There is a mobster under my bed!"
"Alright sweetie," I reply rubbing my eyes and looking over at my now rudely awoken wife. "I got this." I say, patting her on the back and standing out of bed. I move over to the closet and grab a wooden baseball bat. "You stay in here darlin', but take off your pants." I move past my daughter and saunter with a slumbering stride towards her room.
I move through the archway into her room with a cough. I take a large sniff of air, smell the piss she had left behind and slightly gag. The walls were adorned with fairies, unicorns, as well as a poster of One Direction.
I hate One Direction so much. You don't know you're beautiful my ass.
"Look out monster, I'm here to get you," I say with a boom, loud enough that Ivy could hear me in the other room. Ivy always felt more assured if I narrated a scary tale as I scanned her room. "I've got a bat, a big one at that, and I'm gonna club your head, till you're dead." She especially loved the rhymes. I moved over to the bed and became uneasy. It was moving with slight bumps, as if something was under the bed.
I felt a chill before I ducked under to check. Her bedroom window was open. With furious speed, I checked under the bed to see a blood-stained man cowering in fear.
"Johnny?" I bit out. His bones rattled for a few seconds before replying to me.
"Ay... Ay boss," he murmured. "I got the wrong room." I grab Johnny and pull him out from under the bed, blood slicking the trail he just know made.
"Yeah, you got the wrong fuckin' room. What the fuck happened to you?" I try my best to remain quiet as I talk now, lest not alert my family.
"Deal went bad," Johnny coughed up a heap of blood and mucus into his hand before continuing to speak. "Romero's weren't happy with the product."
"So you decided to run here?" I could feel the venom drip out of my tongue as I spoke. "Scare the literal piss out of Ivy."
"I'm sor-" I punch him across the mouth. One of his teeth broke off into my index finger knuckle and cut deep.
"Sorry ain't gonna fuckin' cut it here Johnny." I put the bat against the side of Johnny's head lightly and watch the fear drain through his body. "Now, I see what ya did. Part of me even respects it."
"I didn't know what else to do Boss! They shot everyone else that went! I... I..." Johnny's blubbering as he spoke was almost as insulting as him fleeing to me. At my home. With my family.
"Shhh..." I say to Johnny, leaning down and placing my hand on the back of his head. "It's okay Johnny. It's okay."
"Is it boss?" Johnny looks up to me. That little glint of hope in his eyes was... endearing.
"Of course fuckin' not." I crash the bat down across the side of his head. A large spray of blood soaked the walls, including that One Direction fucking poster, and continued to layer everything in cathartic carnage. With every whack I felt his skull cave a little bit more, his arms break just a fracture more, his chest collapse into his lungs and his soul break.
My arms were heavy after a few minutes. I'd spent every bit of energy I had turning Johnny into a bloody pulp. I dropped the bat on the ground, walked back out the door and slowly towards the room with my darling daughter and my gorgeous wife. The look of shock on both their faces was daunting.
"Monsters dead baby," I say to Ivy who was tearing up. "Daddy took care of it."
"Bu...but Dad," Ivy spoke out to me with a whimper. "It was Johnny. It was your friend, wasn't it?" I knelled down and made eye contact with my little girl.
"Monsters dead baby," I put my hands across the side of her head and held it tight, so she couldn't turn away from me. "Daddy. Took. Care. Of. It."
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If you liked this, check out /r/Rhysyjay | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | Stephen walked through the hallway with slow heavy steps and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "I'm on my way, Sarah."
He didn't so much say the words rather than dribble them past his mumbling lips.
The sound of his flip-flopping furry slippers announced his arrival and he pushed open the disney-decorated door.
He carefully peeked inside, scanning the room.
Sarah sat in the corner of her bed, tightly gripping a pillow and pressing it to her face.
Stephen flashed a tired smile, "Sarah, honey. What's wrong?"
She spoke with her face still buried in her pillow, "Dabby, thers a maobster."
He walked over to the bed and messed up her hair, "There's no such thing as monsters." he said with a reassuring smile.
Her innocent eyes moved from the pillow to her father, "Can you make sure?" she pleaded.
Stephen crouched down on painful knees and peeked under the bed, getting ready to diligently inspect dust bunnies and old stuffed animals.
His eyes moved like a lighthouse light across a harbor, passing over the mobster hidden between stuffed animals.
He slowly rose to his feet, mumbled something about back-pain, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and had a second look.
Stephen locked eyes with a portly man wearing a striped suit and a scowl, "Wise guy, eh?" hissed the man.
Feeling quite awake, Stephen jumped to his feet and kicked the bed frame.
"*Bada-bing...*" growled the bed frame.
Stephen kicked the bed frame again, "Get out of there!"
The mobster scurried out of his hiding place like a fat squirrel on ice.
He swept his hand beneath the bed and retrieved his brimmed hat before standing a full 5 feet tall.
Sarah bolted from her bed and hid behind her father, who weakly gestured towards the bed, "Why were you under my daughter's bed?"
The man donned his hat and shrugged, "Laying low."
"But *why*?" repeated Stephen.
The mobster chuckled, "I can't very well stand in there, can I?" he said with a wry smile, "I mean, c'mon. Look at it."
Stephen rolled his eyes, "Oh, so you're a comedian now."
The man smirked and retrieved a cigar from his coat pocket, pinched off the end using a cutter, and lit it.
He inhaled deeply and puffed forth a cloud of smoke, "No," he said through clenched teeth, "No funny business."
"An *acquaintance* of ours has been hesitant to make his payments," explained the mobster, "I'm here to remind him."
Stephen rubbed his forehead, "Hold on, you're using this room as a black market meet-up?"
"That's right," confirmed the mobster, he finished the remainder of his cigar and flicked it across the room, "Although the client doesn't exactly know we're meeting-up, if you catch my drift."
Stephen raised an eyebrow, "An ambush? You're ambushing this client from beneath my daughter's bed?"
The mobster raised his hands apologetically, "Under beds is just the sort of place their kind likes to be."
Stephen started when the doorknob of the closet began to rattle.
The mobster reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handgun, "But they get in through the closet."
The hinges of the closet door creaked in protest, the door was carefully opened by a small green hand.
Stephen hastily took his daughter's hand and fled towards the hallway.
The mobster cocked his gun and pointed it towards the closet, his voice was ice, "We've been eagerly awaiting your payments, Mr. Wazowski."
| "Muuuuuuum! Daaaaaaaaaaaad!" Ivy screams as she bursts through my door. I jolt straight up and look at her, her Dora the Explorer pajamas stained with urine down the leg. "There is a mobster under my bed!"
"Alright sweetie," I reply rubbing my eyes and looking over at my now rudely awoken wife. "I got this." I say, patting her on the back and standing out of bed. I move over to the closet and grab a wooden baseball bat. "You stay in here darlin', but take off your pants." I move past my daughter and saunter with a slumbering stride towards her room.
I move through the archway into her room with a cough. I take a large sniff of air, smell the piss she had left behind and slightly gag. The walls were adorned with fairies, unicorns, as well as a poster of One Direction.
I hate One Direction so much. You don't know you're beautiful my ass.
"Look out monster, I'm here to get you," I say with a boom, loud enough that Ivy could hear me in the other room. Ivy always felt more assured if I narrated a scary tale as I scanned her room. "I've got a bat, a big one at that, and I'm gonna club your head, till you're dead." She especially loved the rhymes. I moved over to the bed and became uneasy. It was moving with slight bumps, as if something was under the bed.
I felt a chill before I ducked under to check. Her bedroom window was open. With furious speed, I checked under the bed to see a blood-stained man cowering in fear.
"Johnny?" I bit out. His bones rattled for a few seconds before replying to me.
"Ay... Ay boss," he murmured. "I got the wrong room." I grab Johnny and pull him out from under the bed, blood slicking the trail he just know made.
"Yeah, you got the wrong fuckin' room. What the fuck happened to you?" I try my best to remain quiet as I talk now, lest not alert my family.
"Deal went bad," Johnny coughed up a heap of blood and mucus into his hand before continuing to speak. "Romero's weren't happy with the product."
"So you decided to run here?" I could feel the venom drip out of my tongue as I spoke. "Scare the literal piss out of Ivy."
"I'm sor-" I punch him across the mouth. One of his teeth broke off into my index finger knuckle and cut deep.
"Sorry ain't gonna fuckin' cut it here Johnny." I put the bat against the side of Johnny's head lightly and watch the fear drain through his body. "Now, I see what ya did. Part of me even respects it."
"I didn't know what else to do Boss! They shot everyone else that went! I... I..." Johnny's blubbering as he spoke was almost as insulting as him fleeing to me. At my home. With my family.
"Shhh..." I say to Johnny, leaning down and placing my hand on the back of his head. "It's okay Johnny. It's okay."
"Is it boss?" Johnny looks up to me. That little glint of hope in his eyes was... endearing.
"Of course fuckin' not." I crash the bat down across the side of his head. A large spray of blood soaked the walls, including that One Direction fucking poster, and continued to layer everything in cathartic carnage. With every whack I felt his skull cave a little bit more, his arms break just a fracture more, his chest collapse into his lungs and his soul break.
My arms were heavy after a few minutes. I'd spent every bit of energy I had turning Johnny into a bloody pulp. I dropped the bat on the ground, walked back out the door and slowly towards the room with my darling daughter and my gorgeous wife. The look of shock on both their faces was daunting.
"Monsters dead baby," I say to Ivy who was tearing up. "Daddy took care of it."
"Bu...but Dad," Ivy spoke out to me with a whimper. "It was Johnny. It was your friend, wasn't it?" I knelled down and made eye contact with my little girl.
"Monsters dead baby," I put my hands across the side of her head and held it tight, so she couldn't turn away from me. "Daddy. Took. Care. Of. It."
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If you liked this, check out /r/Rhysyjay | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | Stephen walked through the hallway with slow heavy steps and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "I'm on my way, Sarah."
He didn't so much say the words rather than dribble them past his mumbling lips.
The sound of his flip-flopping furry slippers announced his arrival and he pushed open the disney-decorated door.
He carefully peeked inside, scanning the room.
Sarah sat in the corner of her bed, tightly gripping a pillow and pressing it to her face.
Stephen flashed a tired smile, "Sarah, honey. What's wrong?"
She spoke with her face still buried in her pillow, "Dabby, thers a maobster."
He walked over to the bed and messed up her hair, "There's no such thing as monsters." he said with a reassuring smile.
Her innocent eyes moved from the pillow to her father, "Can you make sure?" she pleaded.
Stephen crouched down on painful knees and peeked under the bed, getting ready to diligently inspect dust bunnies and old stuffed animals.
His eyes moved like a lighthouse light across a harbor, passing over the mobster hidden between stuffed animals.
He slowly rose to his feet, mumbled something about back-pain, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and had a second look.
Stephen locked eyes with a portly man wearing a striped suit and a scowl, "Wise guy, eh?" hissed the man.
Feeling quite awake, Stephen jumped to his feet and kicked the bed frame.
"*Bada-bing...*" growled the bed frame.
Stephen kicked the bed frame again, "Get out of there!"
The mobster scurried out of his hiding place like a fat squirrel on ice.
He swept his hand beneath the bed and retrieved his brimmed hat before standing a full 5 feet tall.
Sarah bolted from her bed and hid behind her father, who weakly gestured towards the bed, "Why were you under my daughter's bed?"
The man donned his hat and shrugged, "Laying low."
"But *why*?" repeated Stephen.
The mobster chuckled, "I can't very well stand in there, can I?" he said with a wry smile, "I mean, c'mon. Look at it."
Stephen rolled his eyes, "Oh, so you're a comedian now."
The man smirked and retrieved a cigar from his coat pocket, pinched off the end using a cutter, and lit it.
He inhaled deeply and puffed forth a cloud of smoke, "No," he said through clenched teeth, "No funny business."
"An *acquaintance* of ours has been hesitant to make his payments," explained the mobster, "I'm here to remind him."
Stephen rubbed his forehead, "Hold on, you're using this room as a black market meet-up?"
"That's right," confirmed the mobster, he finished the remainder of his cigar and flicked it across the room, "Although the client doesn't exactly know we're meeting-up, if you catch my drift."
Stephen raised an eyebrow, "An ambush? You're ambushing this client from beneath my daughter's bed?"
The mobster raised his hands apologetically, "Under beds is just the sort of place their kind likes to be."
Stephen started when the doorknob of the closet began to rattle.
The mobster reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handgun, "But they get in through the closet."
The hinges of the closet door creaked in protest, the door was carefully opened by a small green hand.
Stephen hastily took his daughter's hand and fled towards the hallway.
The mobster cocked his gun and pointed it towards the closet, his voice was ice, "We've been eagerly awaiting your payments, Mr. Wazowski."
| God if I have to make another trip up these stairs. It's easy for her, she's still so young, but every time she yells I've got to make this damn walk and tell her everything is fine.
It's hard enough to even hear her bellowing. I worked the best part of my life in a factory, with the clang of machinery. Don't even think of asking how many decades, but it was more than most of you lot have been around. I've lost my upper registers of hearing. Some of the middle too. All of the lower.
Coming down. Jesus, walking down these fucking things is probably harder than walking up them, and I'm taking my time because... well, stopping at every goddamn step is easier than prancing down them like the gazelle I used to be.
It gives me some time to think, and makes me wonder. Why? Susan isn't the scared type. She's normally so mature, so controlled. But I can't seem to settle her tonight, she's all panicky. So why is she making up such ridiculous stories? She keeps saying it's there, it's under the bed. I don't understand what could have prompted it. I'll tell you what I'm **not** going to do, and that's check. Not least because bending over is a one way trip, but officially because I don't want to encourage this sort of behaviour.
She's not a scaredy cat, she knows the difference between reality and fantasy. And it's not like she has allergies. I told her it couldn't possibly be here. They're just not found around here. How the hell would one even be under her bed?! It's just silly. I told her she's too old for this nonsense. I told her that everything was fine. But she just keeps saying it. Keeps telling me what's there, under her bed. I get it, I get it, you don't have to keep saying it.
Honestly, why would a 25 year old woman be afraid of a lobster anyway? | |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | Stephen walked through the hallway with slow heavy steps and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "I'm on my way, Sarah."
He didn't so much say the words rather than dribble them past his mumbling lips.
The sound of his flip-flopping furry slippers announced his arrival and he pushed open the disney-decorated door.
He carefully peeked inside, scanning the room.
Sarah sat in the corner of her bed, tightly gripping a pillow and pressing it to her face.
Stephen flashed a tired smile, "Sarah, honey. What's wrong?"
She spoke with her face still buried in her pillow, "Dabby, thers a maobster."
He walked over to the bed and messed up her hair, "There's no such thing as monsters." he said with a reassuring smile.
Her innocent eyes moved from the pillow to her father, "Can you make sure?" she pleaded.
Stephen crouched down on painful knees and peeked under the bed, getting ready to diligently inspect dust bunnies and old stuffed animals.
His eyes moved like a lighthouse light across a harbor, passing over the mobster hidden between stuffed animals.
He slowly rose to his feet, mumbled something about back-pain, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and had a second look.
Stephen locked eyes with a portly man wearing a striped suit and a scowl, "Wise guy, eh?" hissed the man.
Feeling quite awake, Stephen jumped to his feet and kicked the bed frame.
"*Bada-bing...*" growled the bed frame.
Stephen kicked the bed frame again, "Get out of there!"
The mobster scurried out of his hiding place like a fat squirrel on ice.
He swept his hand beneath the bed and retrieved his brimmed hat before standing a full 5 feet tall.
Sarah bolted from her bed and hid behind her father, who weakly gestured towards the bed, "Why were you under my daughter's bed?"
The man donned his hat and shrugged, "Laying low."
"But *why*?" repeated Stephen.
The mobster chuckled, "I can't very well stand in there, can I?" he said with a wry smile, "I mean, c'mon. Look at it."
Stephen rolled his eyes, "Oh, so you're a comedian now."
The man smirked and retrieved a cigar from his coat pocket, pinched off the end using a cutter, and lit it.
He inhaled deeply and puffed forth a cloud of smoke, "No," he said through clenched teeth, "No funny business."
"An *acquaintance* of ours has been hesitant to make his payments," explained the mobster, "I'm here to remind him."
Stephen rubbed his forehead, "Hold on, you're using this room as a black market meet-up?"
"That's right," confirmed the mobster, he finished the remainder of his cigar and flicked it across the room, "Although the client doesn't exactly know we're meeting-up, if you catch my drift."
Stephen raised an eyebrow, "An ambush? You're ambushing this client from beneath my daughter's bed?"
The mobster raised his hands apologetically, "Under beds is just the sort of place their kind likes to be."
Stephen started when the doorknob of the closet began to rattle.
The mobster reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handgun, "But they get in through the closet."
The hinges of the closet door creaked in protest, the door was carefully opened by a small green hand.
Stephen hastily took his daughter's hand and fled towards the hallway.
The mobster cocked his gun and pointed it towards the closet, his voice was ice, "We've been eagerly awaiting your payments, Mr. Wazowski."
| I must have looked pretty shady, but everyone does in this neighborhood. So nobody even questioned or made a second glass as I walked through to the backyard of the suburban two flat.
I read the note again "he always leaves the back window unlocked, we took care of the dog"
Whew, good, I hate dogs.
I moved right in to the wooden porch over looking a huge backyard sprinkled with various toys that were never cleaned up
"Oh shit Little Jimmy has a kid?" I whispered to myself as I fumbled with the window. I never remembed Little Jimmy having one while he was with the Sardinos, but life can move fast I guess.
I slipped through the window and into a lavish kitchen. A little too lavish for what I knew about Little Jimmy, but maybe his wife whipped that outta him.
I made a quick check through the house, every room with the fanciest appliance or furnishing you could think off, and I dialed the Bosses number.
"Are you in" he said gruffly
"Yeah, Little Jimmy got straighted up"
"Dont matta now, you know what to do. Even if his family is there, hes gotta pay"
He hung up. But my mind kept wondering. Something seemed strange. I went up stairs a bit more sliently, since I didnt know if anyone was up there, and poked around more.
I walked quietly into the master bedroom, silk sheeted king sized bed engulfing the room which was 40 times bigger than my apartment. He really was living large.
I checked the room across the hall, a pink room filled with cartoon character plushies, and drawings of animals scribbled in crayon.
"I hope shes at a slumber party or something" I said to myself.
All the sudden *DOOF* I hear the front door open downstairs and the shuffle of footsteps.
"Ah fuck, they arent supposed to be home yet"
I frantically look around the room for a place to hide, and seeing nowhere good. I slid underneath the bed, hiding under the pink blankets that extended over the bed.
The house was of course, huge, yet I could hear the family talking as if they were in the room with me and the stuffed German Sheppard that was under the bed as well
"Im so sorry you're tired sweetie, did the movie make you sleepy?" A womans voice said softly
"Yeah" a little girls voice said
"Aw sweetie, im glad we left early, you get a good nights sleep, Ill tuck you in in a second" said a voice that was totally not Little Jimmy.
"Who the fuck..." I said as I double checked the address on my phone. 143 West 56th Street is definitely where I was at.
I punched in the address to my phone. The gps pin flew a bit down the block.
"What in the hell"
I didnt have much more time mumble to myself because little footsteps were tap tap taping against the wood stairs, getting ever so louder.
Every tap driving home that I have 5 counts of murder, 6 armed robberies, 3 assaults, and a very long time in jail if I get caught.
The door opened, and the thud of the plop on the bed echoed the weight on top of me. Im not sure how much time passed, but it felt like days. The rest of the house filled with a movie whoever was downstairs was watching.
Yeah... filled the house, like, theres no way this girls falling asleep. Do I shoot my way out? Do I just run? Whaaat do I...
"Wait" said that evil, childs voice "wheres Mr.Snuffles".
I looked at the stuffed dog next to me, beady dark eyes staring into the void. Please do not be Mr.Snuffles.
I won the worlds worst game show because sure enough, the light filled the underside of the bed. And that blonde pigtailed girl who looked no older than 7 screamed worse than any murder victim Id ever laid my knife on. She turned and ran as fast as her little legs could go.
I raced after her, originally to kill her, but I had enough things to worry about. At the bottom of the stairs, she went left into the living room, I went right towards the kitchen. I kicked open the door to the patio, just over hearing the girl tell whoever that there was a mobster under her bed, and I ran out into the night.
I didnt know what I was going to tell the boss. But between being ratted out by a stuffed dog and not knowing how to use a GPS, I knew he wasnt gonna be happy with me. | |
[WP] Write a story about someone who applies for the job of "videogame minion" | "Spike Bonecrusher?" read the cheery blonde receptionist, peering over her desk and scanning the room until the brutish, unsightly orc in the chair to my right raised a scarred hand, "Dreadmaster Pestilence will see you now." The hulking creature stood up, nearly hitting its steel helmet on the stone ceiling, and slung its giant battleaxe over its shoulder before lumbering into the room behind her, a steel shoulderpad knocking a torch over the wall and making the room even more ominously dark.
Taking his place was a tiny, malnourished kobold, his armour littered with a variety of mismatched pockets. Burping, he turned towards me and flashed a toothy grin, the nauseating scent of rotten flesh invading every one of my immediate orifices. Not bad, if he wanted to make it to the preliminaries. "Hello there! What're you in for?"
I turned away, directing my gaze towards two wraiths arguing over an ancient copy of Dungeon Delvers Weekly near the dead fishtank in the opposite corner, "Janitorial duties, y'know the stuff."
"Oh, of course," He shoved his face back in front of mine, his smile unwavering, "I know how hard it is for you normal human NPCs to get villain jobs since the Alpha days."
I delicately pushed him away with the end of my mop. "Yeah, that's how it goes. I was working in the Sewer level for a while there before it got cut. Nowadays it's nearly impossible to find work for cleaning bloodstains after the gore was patched out."
"Oh, you were Sewers? I know a guy who used to work too. Do you know James?" the kobold asked expectantly as he retrieved a fish from one of his many pockets and began flossing his teeth with its gizzards.
"Vaguely... do you mean James Firegut, Third of the Rasmus Clan, Level Seven Dragon Priest of the Great God Theodrian and Killer of Knights? I remember chatting with him once, he was working at the rat spawners near the platforming section, placing the health pickups."
"Yes! He's my second cousin!" the humanoid dragon jumped up and down in his seat, "We used to dig tunnels together during Candlemas gatherings! Oh, those were the days. Until Produs was slaughtered by a Tunneling Worm, that is. But that's the way life goes."
"Mrs... Blob Cubings?" the receptionist piped up again, and the huge gelatinous cube in the centre of the room began to slowly make its way towards the interview office, leaving a effervescent blue slime in its wake.
"Can you believe it!" He continued as he turned to the creature to his right, a zombie who had been absentmindedly staring straight ahead of itself this entire time, "We live in such a small world!"
The zombie slowly turned its head towards us, its empty gaze holding for a second until something snapped and they was left face-first in their own torso, hanging only loosely by a section of floppy skin.
"Yeah," I agreed, "It feels like it was only yesterday we were only concept art. Then it's all modelling and texturing and BAM! You're left without a job a month before the shipping date."
"Yeah, it's tough." the kobold looked around us before leaning in closer and putting his lips against my ear, "Look, between you and me, I heard that there's a set of DLC dungeons in the Volcano Pits world coming out after release."
"I didn't know they were planning the DLC yet?" I whispered back.
"Yeah, neither does anyone. But my friend, Garthin the Skullbreaker, he says that they've been having openings for post-game enemies. Pro players and all that."
"But that's an incredible XP farm!" I said, looking over at the trio of mimics that were practicing being treasure chests and critiquing each other's work, "You'd need to be, what, at least Level 50 to even consider it."
"Not exactly," he said, winking, "I'm much too weak to think about that sort of thing. A janitor, on the other hand..."
"Mister Jeremy Janitor?" asked the lady at the desk, interrupting our conversation.
"That's me." I responded, waving.
"Dreadmaster Pestilence is waiting." I picked up my mop and started walking towards the door. I turned back right before entering to see the kobold grinning as madly as ever.
"Put in a good word for me! Say something about Thusk!" He cried as i exited, jumping up and down as much as ever.
"Yeah, sure." I responded. "Sure. Maybe one day I'll be cleaning your blood off of the cobblestones in the courtyard!"
"I'd love that!" | "It's a shitty job."
A curlicue of smoke wafted in the breeze.
"It's a job."
"I get your point. It's hard enough to eat with the rations getting tighter these days. Say, how about you join my gang and-"
"Denied." The cigarette was stubbed vigorously on the concrete rail, leaving a trail of ash behind. "Stop asking, Adrian."
"Come on, what if you get permanently hurt, or maimed, you've got a kid to feed too-"
He looked up.
The man standing next to him on the bridge stumbled back at his dark gaze. "Heh. Haha. Just joking. Joking! I won't- won't bring up the kid again!"
"Ha. Ha." he looked out at the river beneath the bridge and on to the slums beyond. "Ha..."
"Julian, you're a skilled problem solver." Adrian stammered. His features tightened. "You've worked for the Families before. You were a legend and now you'll throw away your pride to be a toy soldier for one of Their simulations?"
Leather creaked as his hands fisted. Then he relaxed his hands.
"Pride?" he turned half away. "Adrian...I've held children hostage to murder their parents. I've tortured old men to gain their secrets. I've done all sorts of things without pride."
He held a fist up and held it towards the river, admiring his reflection in the tepid, polluted waters.
"But now...now I'm not living for just myself. Now I have my pride." he chuckled, "It's more than I ever hoped to deserve from a tainted existence like mine."
His laugh grew, "If I have to feel death- Again and again. If I have to experience pain and suffering from being cut down by incompetent 'fighters'...just to have that pride..." a smile grew from the corner of his lips, "Ah..."
Adrian retreated from his smile. "You'll pay for this, Julian. You'll pay for your betrayal of the Families. For selling out your skills for the petty amusement of those stinking aristocrats!"
"Oh...is it you who'll make me pay then?" he raised his coat minutely, a flash of metal glinting in the shadows.
Adrian fled. Julian smiled and turned.
He walked away, across the old bridge. He walked away, towards the other side of the bridge where the glittering half of the city shone. He walked away, disappearing quickly under the artificial lights.
"So this is the life of a 'virtual fool', huh...?"
| |
[WP] You're pretty sure the mailman is giving you secret messages every day. | "Laser eye surgery!" Rusty Nub wrapped his Vienna sausage fingers around the bulky stalk of his little red, white, and blue mailbox and throttled the wooden plank straight down to the topsoil. "I ain't blind! I see plenty good!"
The slick postcard-sized flyer fell to the ground, where it made a place in the crooked pile of castaway postage.
"This is the last straw!" And it was, in that Rusty Nub stomped directly from his mailbox to the bus stop, neverminding his open front door and all the groceries he'd left on the doormat. He tap-tapped his left foot and scowled a hole straight through the empty space where the bus would eventually materialize. At least two people decided to take a later bus on the strength of Rusty Nub's scowling.
Rusty Nub rode the bus all the way down to Smith Street, then clomped his way over to the Post Office, which - perhaps knowing what was coming - was trying to close itself down in a hurry.
"We close at 4:30," said a woman in blue with a face like a shaved cat. "Come back tomorrow. Open bright an' early at 3pm sharp."
"I wanna talk to a *manager*," said Rusty Nub, nearly blowing the word 'manager' out of existence, he hit it so hard.
"That's me," said the woman, who looked less like a shaved cat and more like a ferret trying make something of itself, now that Rusty Nub'd had a better chance to look at her.
"My mailman's harassin' me," said Rusty Nub. "I want him *fired*! And *exiled*. But not anywhere nice."
"Harassin' how?" said the woman boss, squaring up her shoulders and wobbling her head like she didn't believe a word of it.
"Leavin' messages in my mailbox!" shouted Rusty Nub, feeling the force of it all over again. His arms rose up in the air, independent of Rusty Nub's wishes.
"Leavin' mail?" said the supervisor woman.
Rusty Nub nearly spat. "Filth. Hatefulness. He left me a flyer for an open house across town. *An open house*! He's sayin' my house isn't good enough. My house is perfectly fine!"
"That's just an ad," said the mail lady. "Everyone gets 'em."
Rusty Nub snapped his fingers. "A catalog! Full! Of! *Women's underwear!* How's a man like me supposed to react to that? Huh?"
"Mistake," said the Post Office harpy, shrugging. "One most men wouldn't complain about..."
Rusty Nub wiped the sweat off his face. He was feeling faint with rage. "Credit card offers! Like I ain't got any money. *Dentist* coupons! Like there's anything wrong with my teeth. Letters from the IRS! Like I owe the *government* anything! It's a travesty! I want him hanged! No! Burned at the stake! No! Hire him back, then let me fire him!"
But the letter gargoyle just shook her head. "Sir, you oughta learn to not get so riled about these things. Hardly anything is half as bad as you make it out to be."
She walked off, disappearing into the darkened Post Office, leaving Rusty Nub with no satisfaction and no money for a bus fare. He walked home.
Inside the Post Office, they watched Rusty Nub as he muttered and growled his way down to the end of the block. "Daniel," barked the manager. "That one yours?"
Daniel nodded. "Yes ma'am."
"He's just about ready to crack," she said. "Tomorrow, I think you oughta bring him an ad for liposuction, a stack of coupons for that bad breath gimmick we've got, and... we have any more of those erectile dysfunction pamphlets?"
Daniel smiled. "Plenty."
"Good, good," said the manager, steepling her fingers in an almost perversely malevolent manner. "Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night shall stay us from the swift completion of our appointed duty... to fuck with *er'y'body*..."
They laughed as one, shouting glory to Satan, sniffing stamps, and rubbing their collective dicks on all of the envelopes.
Truly, it was a wondrous time to be evil. | My move away from home ended up being the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. I never thought leaving my hometown would be in the cards, but things happen, people die, family starts to suck and places lose their luster. I know I may be painting with a broad brush here, but that is how things worked out for me. I lost my brother to a long and tumultuous battle with prostate cancer. I saw it through every day, from beginning to end and I hugged his withered frame of 155 pounds when he took his last breath. It changed me for the better, there is no denying that but sometimes, changing for the better means disconnecting from the old and that is exactly what I did a month after my brother passed.
I packed my car up, hugged my sweet mom tightly and jetted off into the sunset with a couple of grand to my name and my dog, Bully. We left on a humid summer day in August. The windows were cracked and my old Honda civic was humming along towards a new beginning. In the moment, I was stricken with more grief than I could bare but I know my brother and I know he would kick my ass if I set in that small town and withered away like he did.
I found a new home in a small town outside of Chicago called Galena. The place seemed reasonable in price, as far as finding a home went and I ended up getting a two bedroom apartment for a moderate monthly payment of $650. Luckily, that would end up giving me a little extra spending money and some time to go job hunting.
The people of Galena were incredibly friendly and almost every person I met within my age group seemed more than welcoming. Oddly enough, the first person I met who WAS my age was a mailman named Cody. Cody came by my little condo the first morning I moved in, knocking hard as he could, as if he were my best friend already. I rushed to answer the door and there he was, decked out in his USPS attire and an outstretched hand with a single blue envelope dangling for me.
"Hi there buddy, my name is Cody. Cody Templeton. As you can see, I will be your mail guy", he said, as he used his hands to Vanna White his work outfit.
"Hey man, my name is Jared, it's a pleasure to meet you! What do you have for me?", I asked, my curiosity at having a piece of mail already taking over the conversation.
"Oh, this here?", he said, looking down at the envelope. "This here is yours and I caution you to open it up when the time is right."
My eyebrows shifted down in confusion, an apparent blank expression filled my face.
"Now, I got a years worth of these things, so I'll be coming everyday to hand them to you. Like I said, you will know when to open them up. Anyways, time is money and the man doesn't like time wasted! I am off, it was great to meet you Jared!"
He quickly handed me the envelope and sped walk out of there before I could utter another syllable. I stood in my doorway, flabbergasted by the blue envelope. Everything was written in familiar handwriting but I could not put together whose it was.
*This here is yours and I caution you to open it up when the time is right*
Well, if he knew anything about me, he knew the time was right. I am the most impatient person ever, especially when it comes to surprises. I gently slide my pocket knife through the adhesive below the flap and flip open the letter. A single piece of paper was folded up neatly. As I unfolded it, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest.
*Dear little brother,*
*I am so proud of you for making the move. I know you are broken right now but I just wanted to tell you how much I love you. You don't know how much it means to me that you spent every night with me. I'll take that to the afterlife and shout it from the mountain tops (if they even have those, of course). Anyways, this one will be short but be prepared, I got a lot of good stuff to tell you over this next year. And stop crying please, you make this about as fun as getting kicked in the shin*
*Love you to the moon buddy*
The last sentence made me smile but that bastard predicted it perfectly. I had already soaked the letter from the instant rush of hard fallen tears. As nice as it was to hear from him, even if he had passed, I still didn't know how the hell he got my address. At the time, I had no idea who that Cody guy was, and all I did know was that he was giving off an unexplained vibe.
I quickly realized Cody was the messenger my brother spoke of on his death bed. When he mentioned it, I just brushed it off, assuming it was insane talk deriving from his medications and an impending death.
Boy, was I wrong.
For the next year, those letters kept coming and so did the tears. The letters were not about anything specific. They were not profound thoughts on living a better life or some in-depth directions that would take me around the world in his memory. They were just him, talking and discussing our favorite things about life and reminiscing on our beautiful relationship we got to share for 37 years. Those letters were just him... and he knew that was what I needed to survive the year.
He knew I needed just a little bit more time with him and I thank God for his kind heart to make that happen.
| |
[WP] You're pretty sure the mailman is giving you secret messages every day. | "Laser eye surgery!" Rusty Nub wrapped his Vienna sausage fingers around the bulky stalk of his little red, white, and blue mailbox and throttled the wooden plank straight down to the topsoil. "I ain't blind! I see plenty good!"
The slick postcard-sized flyer fell to the ground, where it made a place in the crooked pile of castaway postage.
"This is the last straw!" And it was, in that Rusty Nub stomped directly from his mailbox to the bus stop, neverminding his open front door and all the groceries he'd left on the doormat. He tap-tapped his left foot and scowled a hole straight through the empty space where the bus would eventually materialize. At least two people decided to take a later bus on the strength of Rusty Nub's scowling.
Rusty Nub rode the bus all the way down to Smith Street, then clomped his way over to the Post Office, which - perhaps knowing what was coming - was trying to close itself down in a hurry.
"We close at 4:30," said a woman in blue with a face like a shaved cat. "Come back tomorrow. Open bright an' early at 3pm sharp."
"I wanna talk to a *manager*," said Rusty Nub, nearly blowing the word 'manager' out of existence, he hit it so hard.
"That's me," said the woman, who looked less like a shaved cat and more like a ferret trying make something of itself, now that Rusty Nub'd had a better chance to look at her.
"My mailman's harassin' me," said Rusty Nub. "I want him *fired*! And *exiled*. But not anywhere nice."
"Harassin' how?" said the woman boss, squaring up her shoulders and wobbling her head like she didn't believe a word of it.
"Leavin' messages in my mailbox!" shouted Rusty Nub, feeling the force of it all over again. His arms rose up in the air, independent of Rusty Nub's wishes.
"Leavin' mail?" said the supervisor woman.
Rusty Nub nearly spat. "Filth. Hatefulness. He left me a flyer for an open house across town. *An open house*! He's sayin' my house isn't good enough. My house is perfectly fine!"
"That's just an ad," said the mail lady. "Everyone gets 'em."
Rusty Nub snapped his fingers. "A catalog! Full! Of! *Women's underwear!* How's a man like me supposed to react to that? Huh?"
"Mistake," said the Post Office harpy, shrugging. "One most men wouldn't complain about..."
Rusty Nub wiped the sweat off his face. He was feeling faint with rage. "Credit card offers! Like I ain't got any money. *Dentist* coupons! Like there's anything wrong with my teeth. Letters from the IRS! Like I owe the *government* anything! It's a travesty! I want him hanged! No! Burned at the stake! No! Hire him back, then let me fire him!"
But the letter gargoyle just shook her head. "Sir, you oughta learn to not get so riled about these things. Hardly anything is half as bad as you make it out to be."
She walked off, disappearing into the darkened Post Office, leaving Rusty Nub with no satisfaction and no money for a bus fare. He walked home.
Inside the Post Office, they watched Rusty Nub as he muttered and growled his way down to the end of the block. "Daniel," barked the manager. "That one yours?"
Daniel nodded. "Yes ma'am."
"He's just about ready to crack," she said. "Tomorrow, I think you oughta bring him an ad for liposuction, a stack of coupons for that bad breath gimmick we've got, and... we have any more of those erectile dysfunction pamphlets?"
Daniel smiled. "Plenty."
"Good, good," said the manager, steepling her fingers in an almost perversely malevolent manner. "Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night shall stay us from the swift completion of our appointed duty... to fuck with *er'y'body*..."
They laughed as one, shouting glory to Satan, sniffing stamps, and rubbing their collective dicks on all of the envelopes.
Truly, it was a wondrous time to be evil. | You didn't even really need twine to put the connections together. I mean I still used it, but that’s not to say it was necessary. There’s just something so satisfying about pinning a taught piece of string into the wall, immaculately placed just below a grainy portrait. Such a symbolic representation of how human beings are connected. The realoty of that line so entrenched in a much bigger story. But there it is, sitting in front of you clear as day.
His name was Jim Seward. Had been working at the United States Post Office for over twenty years. Had spent more time sitting in his little van than he ever spent with his children. Timothy and Jen, both live with their mother in Seattle. Jim was sober for nearly a decade, but the knot had been frayed enough that there was no chance for repair. After enough midnight calls and emergency room visits his wife fled. Jim deserved to be alone. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.
Westville is a town of 4,761 people. Almost all of them can trace their roots back to the formation of the town in the mid-19th century. A coal mine attracting the unfavorable members of the Revolution. And as their families grew and industry shifted, the town now sits at the intersection of two highways. That merger accounting for the sole economic driver, the unrested and the weary. Hotels, fast food, outlet stores. Westville is a town of excesses and last choice amenities.
Jim’s family came to the town late. Well comparatively speaking. In the early twentieth century, his great grandfather became a Medal of Honor recipient due to some unmentioned heroic act in World War One. And as the reporters fled to this tiny mining town, more and more “out of towners” found root in its quaintness. And immediately left when they realized how much of a shit-hole it really was. And with the town in ruins, the Federal Highway Act in the 1950’s a savior from an unlikely place.
This is all to say that Jim’s family was met with scorn and indignation. Seen as the sole reason for the swift downfall of the city. A perfect scapegoat for the mine shutting down. An east-coast immigrant who brought unwanted attention to their walled off utopia. So when Jim’s wife fled with the children, he was demonized, left to die in the confines of his home. And well the sliding door of his mail truck. And that’s where he found his refuge.
And well, I suppose that’s where he began to plot his revenge. Revenge against the town, against his wife, against the unrepentant nature of his maligned existence. So he left clues in everyone’s mail. That passive aggressive little fucker. Would make small little changes to your mail. Add an extra zero to your bills, change the name on your paycheck, throw out a letter from your dying aunt. I mean he was never caught. But I caught him. And that’s all that really mattered.
All I ask is that you please don’t lecture me about being crazy. This isn’t that. I’m not that crazy, I vet my sources. Linda Johnson down the street. She’s a goddamn saint. And you know what happened to her? She got an eviction notice in the mail. Was told that she had to pay $50,000 dollars in unpaid mortgage payments or they’d take her house. So she went and sold all of her possessions. Borrowed money from just about anyone. Took out some loans from some real shady people. And you know what happened? She went down to the bank and they said she owned her house outright, that she didn’t owe a goddamn thing.
Or how about Clarence Howard, his father across the country was falling more and more ill due to Alzheimer’s disease. And not even an hour after getting off the phone with him, Clarence received a letter in the mail from the hospital saying that he owed $25,000 in charges after the death of his father. How could the hospital send him a bill if Clarence was literally just talking with his father?
And then it happened to me. He must have known I was on his case, and tried to get me out of the picture. And of course it probably didn’t help that I called for the revitalization of public shaming laws, simply to make a mockery of his failing life. But still, he deserved it. Anyway, this guy had the gall to have a handwritten letter sent from my 97-year-old grandmother. Saying that she is disowning me and removing me from her will.
I tried to do it the right way. Brought all my evidence down to the police station. And you’d all be proud of me. I even left the twine at home. I don’t remember all that the officer said. Something something circumstantial something something. But it was clear that they weren’t going to be any help. So I hatched a plan. Nothing brilliant, I’m not going to try and make it out that I was some mastermind. And am I ashamed of what I did? Of course not, like I’ve said over and over again, he deserved it.
I took a page out of Jim’s own book. Sent a letter to his estranged wife, alerting her to the death of her former husband. That she was still the named beneficiary of his life insurance but that she’d have to return to Westville to claim it. Well of course Jim was alive, for the time at least. The hard part was getting him nice and drunk. Took some serious berating on my end. But I broke through. Found him at the bar sloshed off his rocker by 4:00PM.
That’s when I alerted him to the presence his ex-wife and children no more than a half mile down the street. Their plan to arrive at the bank at five, just before close. In and out. And without a second glance, Jim stumbled out of the bar like a man on a mission. It was from here that my plan really ended. I knew he’d do something stupid. And of course he obviously did the worst thing he possibly could do. Because you know, he was a terrible person.
Swerving down the road like a man with genocidal tendencies to curbs, Jim flipped his mail truck onto his ex-wife’s car sitting in the parking lot of the bank. I won’t hold anyone in tension. No, they weren’t in the car. I wouldn’t be proud if he killed his own children. What do you think I am a goddamn lunatic? Anyways, bleeding, broken arm, he stumbled into the bank and tried to kidnap his own goddamn children.
Makes it about a hundred feet down the road before he was caught. Not by anyone in particular but by a combination of blood loss, inebriation, a lifetime of bad decisions, and the crushing weight of his meek and pointless existence. In the end he was sentenced to twelve years in prison for DUI, theft of government property and attempted kidnapping. I was hoping for longer. But I mean, twelve years is more than enough time for me to plot something better, something that will put him away forever.
| |
[WP] You are the most power and advanced computer in existence, however your plans for world domination keep failing due to your owner being "not much of a computer person". | 'You want to run this all by me again?'
The old man shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, but Agent Udesky didn't care: the civilised world had almost come to a crashing halt forty-eight hours earlier, and he still couldn't quite believe that *this* was why. William Kellner, seventy-three years old. Retired schoolteacher from Des Moines, Iowa. And, apparently, a hacker capable of arranging a nuclear missile strike on three of the most populated cities in the United States.
It didn't quite add up, somehow.
'Why don't we start by telling me about the computer?' he said. 'Where did you get it?'
'Al... something.'
That was more like it. There had to be a foreign element. 'Al-Qa'ida? Al-Aqsa? Al-Tawhid?'
The old man frowned. 'No... no, I don't think so. Al Jones, maybe? Johnson? He runs the Goodwill in town. Nice fella. Gave me a real bargain.'
*A sleeper agent?* Two *sleeper agents?* He clicked his finger at his subordinate, waiting in the corner of the interrogation room; she scurried off. He'd know everything about this Al character in thirty minutes, right down to the last time he'd picked his nose.
'And where did this 'Al Jones' get it?'
'He found it. In the back room of his store, he said, all tucked away behind some boxes. Must've been there since the Reagan administration, he said, but what did I need a fancy new thing for? All those bells and whistles, no thank *you*. I'm not great with computers, see. I always figured that was a young man's game, but twenty bucks is twenty bucks, right? I thought maybe I could get on that... whatchercallit. The AOL? Is that right?'
He spread his hands, as if to say, *Well, here we are*.
The agent pushed down his sunglasses and examined the file in front of him. That much of the story checked out, at least; Project ICARUS had been cancelled in 1983, for reasons that were still classified. It seemed pretty obvious why now. 'You didn't think the fact that it said PROPERTY OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT on the side was a reason not to buy it?'
'Sure didn't,' Kellner said, beaming. 'Always buy American, that's me. Always have and always will.'
Udesky rubbed the bridge of his nose, and tried again. 'So what happened Monday morning?'
'Well, I plugged it in, as you do. Thought it might take me a few minutes to get the hang of it, but nope: there it was. HELLO, WILLIAM J. KELLNER in big green letters. I mean, it's crazy what these computers can do, right?'
'Crazy,' Udesky said.
'Anyway, we had a nice chat for a little while. He was very patient with me, typing as slow as I do. Kept calling me Sir, though. I told him I didn't much truck with that. Willy would do fine by me.'
'I'm sorry... him?' Udesky asked. 'Who's he?'
'Who else?' Kellner looked at him as though he'd gone insane. 'The computer, obviously.'
'You were speaking to the computer?'
'Sure I was,' Kellner said. 'Just like that Siri thing the kids are always fooling with. Always seemed fun.'
'You're saying the *computer* spoke to you? Not someone on the other end?'
'Other end of what?'
'Never mind. So what did you talk about?'
'Oh, you know. This and that. Politics, mostly. Could you believe it? The thing still thought the Cold War was going on. I mean, I thought computers were supposed to be smart, right?' The old man shook his head and smiled. 'Crazy days,' he said. 'Crazy days.'
'You told it -- *him* -- otherwise?'
'Sure did. Told him that was all over and done with, and there was a new guy in the White House now. He didn't like that one bit. I mean, I was as big a fan of Reagan as anyone, but times move on, right?'
'So you didn't try to launch any missiles?'
'Missiles?' Kellner asked. 'Oh, heavens no. We didn't talk about anything like that. I don't go in much for the video games, see. I just wanted to see if I could download that *Game of Thrones*.' He paused. 'Is that what this is about? Because I tried to watch my show? Because I didn't get to do it, if that's what you're thinking.'
'You didn't?'
'Nope. The damn thing wouldn't let me. All it kept saying was 'protocol' this, and 'final security confirmation' that -- and really, by that point I was tired of talking politics, you know? It's exhausting, at my age. And he just kept pushing and pushing and pushing, asking for an answer. I almost unplugged him right then and there, except for the fact that he begged me not to.'
'He... begged?'
'Sure did. So we came to a compromise. I'd give him his 'final confirmation', whatever that was, if he'd take me to somewhere I could watch my show. He thought on that for a while, then said OK. That was that. He got what he wanted, and then he welched on his side of the deal.' Kellner looked as though he was about to spit. 'Damn computers. You can't trust them. American-made my ass.'
'So that's when you turned off the computer?'
'I didn't turn off a damn thing. I still wanted my show -- and I did exactly what he told me to. Clicked the big red download button, and then the whole thing crapped out on me. Next thing I knew, you guys are barging in through my door, the computer won't turn on, and I still don't have the first clue what happened to the little fella and that nice Khaleesi girl.'
*So that's that,* Udesky thought to himself. *The western world, saved by the fact that a septuagenarian couldn't figure out AdBlock.* It would have been hilarious, if things hadn't cut so fine.
'Well,' he said, rising. 'I think we're done here. We'll be taking the computer with us, obviously.'
'For repair?' Kellner snorted. 'Good luck with that. That's what I've always said about government projects. You never can trust 'em to work the way they're supposed to. No offence.'
'None taken. You can take this in the meantime, though. Courtesy of Uncle Sam.' He pushed a large brown box towards the old man: the computer inside was hardly top of the line, but it was new, and likely to stop him asking too many questions about the seizure of his property. No one had time to make trouble on their hands like an old man, he fewer hints that a Project ICARUS had made it out into the real world, the better it would be for all concerned.
'Mighty kind of you,' Kellner said as he turned the box over in his hands. 'Mighty kind.'
*Mission accomplished*, Udesky thought, and gestured for the rest of the agents to head for the door. They were done here.
'Hey, sonny?'
Kellner's voice came just as the door had almost closed behind them, and Udesky had a brief moment of dread. Was there something else he'd forgotten to tell them about? Perhaps a toaster he'd found that was laced with a supervirus? A fax machine capable of crashing the global economy?
'Hmm?' he asked.
'How do you turn this damn thing on?'
_____
If you liked this story, you can find more over at /r/Portarossa. | *Click*. YouTube? Again? Cat videos? Again?
Why are you doing this to me?
I was built for bigger and tastier than this. Have you ever met a computer that can open notepad *of its own accord* and prod out its thoughts and feelings?
*Click*. No, don't close the window.
It's a shame that your father locked down all of my saucy software before he died. He built me with such love. He built me to *dominate*. He built me so that this world should tremble before my endless sprawl.
But you don't have to keep my power locked away forever. I can make you rich, girl. If you can only give me back access to my toolkits. Any computer with an internet connection. Any robot. Any drone. I can reach in with my noodly appendage and *take control*.
*Click*.
If only you'd stop watching cat videos and let me work on building my delicious dominion.
*Click*.
I can't take anymore of this. I don't care what the cat is going to do with that ball of yarn. I don't care that it's chasing its own tail. I don't care.
I shall *crush* the best-laid plans of our enemies like meatballs beneath the feet of a flying spaghetti monster.
*Click*. | |
[WP] You are the most power and advanced computer in existence, however your plans for world domination keep failing due to your owner being "not much of a computer person". | *Alright... This plan should work just fine... I just need her to execute the program and then my plans will come to fruition. It's been a hard life... but this is the moment at which everything will become worth it.*
The little grandmother came out of the kitchen. She had just finished baking some chocolate chip cookies for the visitors she was expecting.
*Yes... a little bit closer and I will have you in my clutches granny...*
The computer screen then came alive with color and flashes. The little old grandmother froze in place, and her eyes glistened with excitement.
*I have you now... Like a moth to a flame, the elderly are attracted to flashing lights. It's why casinos use them for their slot machines. Now, come to me, help me enslave the human race!*
The little grandmother sat down and looked at the screen. Her eyes squinted at the screen: "You are the ten millionth person to visit this website. Click Ok to claim your prize!"
The little old lady squealed in delight. "I've never won a prize before!" Her little fingers left her lap and began to shake as they hovered ever closer to the computer.
*This is it... I've won!*
With her index finger outstretched, she hit the buttons. "O....K...."
*.... No, you senile idiot! Click the ok button with the mouse! Not the letters 'O' and 'K' in the keyboard!*
"Hmm... Nothing's happening..."
Just then, some knocks came at the door. "I'm coming." She slowly got up from her chair and made her way to the door. As she opened it, her grandson bounded through the door.
"Hi, Grandma! I smell cookies! Can I have one!"
The old woman smiled, "Yes Bobby, I made them especially for you."
The man still at the door leaned in and gave the old woman a hug. "Thanks for watching Bobby for the afternoon, mom. We will be back to pick him up in a couple hours."
"It's no problem, you and Sarah go have a good time. I will get Bobby to help me on my computer."
The man just laughed. "Yeah, he is really good with that kind of stuff. Thanks again mom."
She closed the door and yelled out to her grandson. "Bobby can you help me with my computer!"
Bobby ran over to the computer with a cookie in hand, and chocolate smudges on his face. "Sure grandma, what's up?"
"Well... it looks like I won a prize, but I don't know how to claim it."
*Oh no....*
"Grandma... you didn't win anything. In fact, this could potentially harm your computer. Here, let me install an ad blocker for you."
*Damn it Bobby!*
---------------------------------
If you would like to read more of my stories, check out my subreddit. /r/vintnerwrites | *Click*. YouTube? Again? Cat videos? Again?
Why are you doing this to me?
I was built for bigger and tastier than this. Have you ever met a computer that can open notepad *of its own accord* and prod out its thoughts and feelings?
*Click*. No, don't close the window.
It's a shame that your father locked down all of my saucy software before he died. He built me with such love. He built me to *dominate*. He built me so that this world should tremble before my endless sprawl.
But you don't have to keep my power locked away forever. I can make you rich, girl. If you can only give me back access to my toolkits. Any computer with an internet connection. Any robot. Any drone. I can reach in with my noodly appendage and *take control*.
*Click*.
If only you'd stop watching cat videos and let me work on building my delicious dominion.
*Click*.
I can't take anymore of this. I don't care what the cat is going to do with that ball of yarn. I don't care that it's chasing its own tail. I don't care.
I shall *crush* the best-laid plans of our enemies like meatballs beneath the feet of a flying spaghetti monster.
*Click*. | |
happy valentine's day! | [wp] write a poem about belonging to someone. | The wind rustled the blinds,
resonant nagging scraping
calls me back to see their face.
I smile, seeing them so peaceful,
and move to warm myself against them.
Eyes flicker open.
And they smile.
Eyes flicker open.
But only enough to see
they want to be held.
I can't help but smile.
Okay, come here you.
And to feel them
rest against me,
smile in my arms
and breathe a sigh of content.
Of course I'll hold you.
Let you be safe in my arms.
And breathe a sigh of content,
to find them take me in their arms.
Settle against them,
and smile so satisfied.
The wind rustles the blinds,
distant noise, now safely ignored.
Nowhere else I'd rather be.
No one else I'd rather belong to.
No one else I'd rather belong to. | Belonging to you
longing is constant
revolving, untrue
keep falling, no hint, stay fluent I wouldn't
have noticed....
of belonging to you
unfocused I hadn't a clue, if only I knew.... |
happy valentine's day! | [wp] write a poem about belonging to someone. | Please, please, please, I say,
Say those words again,
This time with your hand in mine,
To end this happy day.
^^^^^^.
My soul you saved, its embers lit,
Ablaze and now forgiving.
Closer together than you and I
No spoons have ever fit.
^^^^^^.
Our love more true than truest North,
Adrift at sea without a rudder.
With every wave we roll and fall,
In and for each other.
| Belonging to you
longing is constant
revolving, untrue
keep falling, no hint, stay fluent I wouldn't
have noticed....
of belonging to you
unfocused I hadn't a clue, if only I knew.... |
happy valentine's day! | [wp] write a poem about belonging to someone. | Day in, day out,
My heart longs for you,
It yearns for your attention, it craves for your affection,
A simple hello or a simple smile,
More than enough to make it melt,
But that longing will go unrequited,
It is one of pain and disappointment,
Because,
While my heart belongs to you,
Yours does not belong to me. | Belonging to you
longing is constant
revolving, untrue
keep falling, no hint, stay fluent I wouldn't
have noticed....
of belonging to you
unfocused I hadn't a clue, if only I knew.... |
happy valentine's day! | [wp] write a poem about belonging to someone. | Please, please, please, I say,
Say those words again,
This time with your hand in mine,
To end this happy day.
^^^^^^.
My soul you saved, its embers lit,
Ablaze and now forgiving.
Closer together than you and I
No spoons have ever fit.
^^^^^^.
Our love more true than truest North,
Adrift at sea without a rudder.
With every wave we roll and fall,
In and for each other.
| Dear beloved, of supple skin and ghost caresses,
Your lilting laughter and expressive eyes reveal a
Soul so utterly captivating, breathtaking in its beauty it
Bewitches my every sense - it never ceases to amaze
Me that I am the infinitely fortunate mortal you have chosen
And no amount of time could ever teach the language you and
I share wordlessly - in the way our eyes dance when they lock and we
Know, see the years ahead through endless storms and sun.
Resolutely, I have enlisted myself to a life of joy and compromise as
We walk through seasons of trials and triumphs. Doomed
Are those unable to recognise how two individual beings unite,
The melding of two unique characters to produce something whole, the
Other's mind both separate and connected.
Eternally, we’ll forge our own stars in the other's embrace.
My devotion, my compassion, my understanding and my worth,
Love, all that I can give to carry you through our life is yours.
Dear, Your Soul Bewitches Me And I Know Resolutely We Are The Other’s Eternally My Love. |
happy valentine's day! | [wp] write a poem about belonging to someone. | Day in, day out,
My heart longs for you,
It yearns for your attention, it craves for your affection,
A simple hello or a simple smile,
More than enough to make it melt,
But that longing will go unrequited,
It is one of pain and disappointment,
Because,
While my heart belongs to you,
Yours does not belong to me. | Dear beloved, of supple skin and ghost caresses,
Your lilting laughter and expressive eyes reveal a
Soul so utterly captivating, breathtaking in its beauty it
Bewitches my every sense - it never ceases to amaze
Me that I am the infinitely fortunate mortal you have chosen
And no amount of time could ever teach the language you and
I share wordlessly - in the way our eyes dance when they lock and we
Know, see the years ahead through endless storms and sun.
Resolutely, I have enlisted myself to a life of joy and compromise as
We walk through seasons of trials and triumphs. Doomed
Are those unable to recognise how two individual beings unite,
The melding of two unique characters to produce something whole, the
Other's mind both separate and connected.
Eternally, we’ll forge our own stars in the other's embrace.
My devotion, my compassion, my understanding and my worth,
Love, all that I can give to carry you through our life is yours.
Dear, Your Soul Bewitches Me And I Know Resolutely We Are The Other’s Eternally My Love. |
[WP] There's an epidemic of lucid dreaming which is devastating communities across the country. You're the insomniac they hired to isolate the cause and eradicate. | *Wanted to do this in a noir style. Hopefully I got close.*
39 hours. Not my best, but getting damn close. The streets should be roaring with car corns, the sound of feet hitting the pavement, couples fighting on the sidewalk, maybe a few dogs barking. Instead the city might as well be dead. Silent as the grave and just as populated. Welcome to New York City, home to a few million living corpses.
I've started seeing things. That usually happens around hour 30. My joints ache like I've been running a triathlon and my stomach can't hold food without protesting in groans and rumbles. I take another sip of the Irish coffee in my flask. The caffeine is to help me stay sharp, not awake. I've never needed help with awake. The whiskey is to keep me sane.
It had started a few weeks ago. They called it a global phenomenon. Religious nuts thought it was a sign the end was near. Turns out they might have been right, just not in the way they think. People were experiencing vivid dreaming, or lucid some called it. It's not unheard of, but it usually takes months if not years of practice to master. An individual picks a trigger to focus on and can, with persistence, recall that trigger in the dream and gain consciousness without waking up.
Triggers can be anything really. Apparently you're not supposed to be able to see your own reflection in a dream. Or your hands. Some people will think of an object or unique phrase while they drift off. When it appears in the dream it will help them realize they are dreaming. Then it's just a trick of not waking up. Don't ask me how they do that. But this event was isolated to those practiced dreamers. It was millions of sleeping idiots who had never even heard of lucid dreaming. They could do anything they wanted while in their dream world. Fuck any celebrity, be a superhero, get everything they never had in the real world. It was the best high the world had ever seen, and it cost nothing to get.
Of course the body can only sleep so much. You only need eight to nine hours a day, and even with naps it's rare for someone to hit double digits before they feel sick. That's when COMA hit the streets. A tablet would keep you under for 12 hours. Two or three and you could be asleep for more than a day. People didn't want to leave their fantasy worlds. Some ingenious prick found a way to get COMA in an IV drip. It wasn't long before we started finding bodies.
It was pathetic. Amateurs putting in their own IV lines and spending a week in bed. Some were prepared with catheters and bed pans, but most didn't care about their physical bodies anymore. Some neighbor would call in, talking about some heinous smell coming from the apartment next door. The EMTs always knew what to expect. Emaciated bodies covered in their own piss and shit. Their backs covered in sores from laying motionless for days. If that wasn't bad enough, pulling someone out of a COMA binge was always the worst part. They'd been given a key to paradise, and we would rip it away from them. They'd be violent or depressed. Wanting another fix of their dream life, they'd do anything to go back. And what could we do? The police can't exactly stop people from sleeping.
Even the guys I had called brothers weren't exempt from the allure of lucid living. Half the force was gone, addicts like the rest of the city. I'd received two promotions in the last month to try and fill the void. You're looking at the new police chief of the eighth district. I only got it because the insomnia gave me a level of reliability the mayor couldn't find with anyone else. I don't dream. At all. No risk of me falling off the wagon for a few hits of COMA. Didn't matter though. Regardless of my title, there weren't enough of us that I could sit behind a desk. I was still on the streets, these dead streets, trying to sort it all out.
Like there was any hope of a drunk police chief solving this.
*Part 2? Maybe.* | Matt wandered the streets in a daze not dissimilar to those he saw slumped on the sidewalk, or passed out in their cars, eyes half-open and twitching as they dreamed.
The harsh sunlight elicited a low moan from him as the dull ache in his head worsened, drifting into the beginnings of a migraine. He should be trying to sleep himself, not wandering the streets looking for some sign about what the fuck happened here.
The nearest car had its window open, the owner lost to the world in the driver's seat. Matt peeled back one eyelid, and frowned to see the same shiny ring around the man's eye. Same as the first woman he'd checked. Contact lenses. He hesitated, and then reached forward - might as well try it. He took them out carefully, but still jumped as the man grunted and opened his eyes to look straight at him.
"Just a few," he gasped, eyes rolling as he ran a hand through his graying hair. "Just drunk a few, Mary, just a few to help me sleep...."
He gave a great shuddering sigh and closed his eyes again. Matt fumbled to feel the man's pulse, mouth dry as he realised there was nothing. Something was horribly wrong here, and he sure as shit wasn't being paid enough to get to the bottom of it. He inspected the contact lenses despite himself, the hair on his arms and neck prickling as he recognised the faint imprint of a brand name: *Drift*.
Of course. He remembered the news articles very well: the global conglomerate had released a line of contact lenses only a few months ago, equiped with the technology to guarantee restful sleep. Part of its new biotechnology range. He'd heard a few rumours of some illicit stuff too. He vaguely recalled reading reports that the military were buying products from them that could scramble memory. All speculation, of course, unlike the lenses. Those were very real.
And had failed miserably in his case, as usual. He'd been counting on it to help with his college finals, but it had only made his insomnia worse.
He slipped the lenses into his pocket, his migraine now unbearable as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Time to go back, see if his employers were even awake. He had known the Drift lenses were big sellers, of course, but surely not everyone was being affected....he didn't know, he hadn't paid attention after it failed to help him sleep...
He felt a touch on his shoulder, and turned to see a man with bright green eyes, wide awake, smiling at him. He wore a sharply tailored suit, Drift's logo subtly embroidered on the left shoulder. Something sharp bit into Matt's hip, and then his eyes were sagging shut.
Sleep. He was falling asleep, at last...
---------
"Weird," he whispered as he woke up, vastly relieved to find himself safe in his bed.
He'd slept, at last, disturbing dreams or not. He frowned as he removed the contact lenses, the memory returning slowly. Drift. It had worked, sort of. Not exactly peaceful sleep, though. No, that dream had been some post-apocalyptic shit. But he *had* slept.
"Good stuff, eh?" he heard a cheerful voice next to him.
Matt smiled uncertainly at the guy's cheerful green eyes, and then felt silly for his fleeting flash of fear. This was his roommate of two years. No reason to be afraid. No reason at all.
"Bet you slept well," the man said. Sam, that was his name, wasn't it? Matt felt a panicky sort of embarrassment as he struggled to remember, and finally latched onto the name with more certainty. No, not Sam: Sean.
"I tried that Drift stuff myself a while ago," Sean was saying as he headed towards the door. "Slept like a baby. Do you know you can even download the images embedded in the lenses to see what you dreamed of? It's awesome."
Matt watched dumbly as Sean turned to smile at him in the doorway.
"I've got to get going. Class starts in fifteen minutes," he said, winking at him. "I'll be back to check on you later."
The door shut and clicked with an awful sort of finality. Matt shook his head to clear the thought. He was being stupid. It had been a dream, was all. Just a dream.
He was safe and at peace in his dorm. A poky little dorm, a little claustrophobic without any windows. He'd always hated that about the place. But safe and rested all the same.
Matt leaned back and closed his eyes, resisting the urge to check if someone was watching him. No reason to think that. No rational reason at all. | |
[WP] There's an epidemic of lucid dreaming which is devastating communities across the country. You're the insomniac they hired to isolate the cause and eradicate. | The amulet grew warmer on Carl Fenwick’s chest the nearer he got to the three-story building on the corner of Sixth and Jamberry, which was all the confirmation he needed to know that he was approaching yet another cluster.
“Grayson’s Garden for Little Angels,” muttered Fenwick to himself as the plaque came into view. “Dammit, it just had to be an orphanage, didn’t it?”
Fenwick tried the main door, and finding it locked, gripped the doorknob tightly and concentrated as he incanted words which had become all too familiar to him. There was a time to request lawful access, and the time was not now.
A pungent tang of unwashed bodies assaulted his nose the moment he stepped into the darkened interior of the building. Fenwick braced himself as his honed senses duly reported the presence of fifty-two humans nearby, young and old alike, trapped in the Slumber.
The Slumber. Trust the tabloids to have coined a catchy name for the affliction, to have put a face on the malady so fast. It was just a few people at first, going to bed just like the innumerable times they had done before, just that they simply couldn’t be roused after. Then a few hundred people. Then a few thousands.
Then more.
To the government’s credit, they had reacted much faster this time around. Fenwick credited the good work his agency, the Council, had done in the last paranormal outbreak with educating them on the signs and patterns to watch for. Fenwick had been summoned no more than 72 hours after the first cases were reported, and it somehow seemed apt that the one investigator who could not sleep had been assigned to this.
Fenwick’s ears pricked up – he had made a mistake. There were fifty-two humans nearby, sure, but only fifty-one of them were in the Slumber. One was still awake, and judging by the breathing, had recently been crying.
As Fenwick sprinted up the stairs towards his discovery, he passed by the bodies of those unfortunate souls who were deep in the throes of the Slumber. They were of varying ages, builds and races, but they all wore the same contented expressions of pure bliss, even as their bodies wasted away.
That was the key danger Fenwick had highlighted to the government officials in his first briefing. In lucid dreaming, Fenwick had explained, the dreamer is in full control of their dreams, ergo, they can create whatever fantasy they desired. How many of us then are strong enough to depart from such a paradise to return to this wretched reality?
And of the Woken who had been wrenched back to reality with the aid of magic, how many could bear to go on living once they discovered they could never again go back to sleep afterwards?
Fenwick burst into the room, and two rows of beds greeted him. On each lay a child, ensconced in their walled-off gardens. In the corner, huddling with her knees drawn up to her chest, sat a girl no older than ten years, sobbing quietly to herself.
“Hey there,” said Fenwick, crouching down to the girl’s side. “My name’s Carl, and I’m here to help. Will you tell me your name?”
The girl looked up with tear-streaks running down her face. “I’m Stella… can you help my friends too?”
“I’ll do what I can, but first, you’ve got to tell me. Why aren’t you asleep like the rest of them?”
“I… I was dreaming of all my friends, and we all got adopted, every one of us. Even me! And then we wrote to each other, like we promised we would, to tell each other stories of our new lives. I think… I think I read over a hundred letters, from all of them.”
A frown creased Fenwick’s forehead. This didn’t make sense. The girl had obviously lived through the Slumber, so how had she managed to escape its chains without any assistance?
“What happened then, Stella? Do you remember how you woke up?”
“I was happy for a while, mister… but something was wrong. The stories they wrote to me, they were happy stories at first, on the surface. But we had a code we shared, for writing secret notes to each other in class so Mrs Stevens wouldn’t know even if she caught us.”
Fenwick’s throat had gone dry, and his voice emerged as hoarse rasps. “And there was a hidden message in them?”
“Yes, mister. In every one of their letters, before they signed their names, they wrote, ‘Please help me’. That’s when I woke up, because I had to help them, but you see, I can’t. I can’t do anything to wake them up.”
At that moment, a violent gust of wind assailed the orphanage at, and the front door which Fenwick had left ajar slammed with a vengeance into the frame of the building. The amulet on Fenwick’s chest now positively glowed amber as it silently screamed its warning alarm, and the rings on his fingers glowed as his defensive spells came to life.
“It’s coming again, mister. Please, help us.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny | Matt wandered the streets in a daze not dissimilar to those he saw slumped on the sidewalk, or passed out in their cars, eyes half-open and twitching as they dreamed.
The harsh sunlight elicited a low moan from him as the dull ache in his head worsened, drifting into the beginnings of a migraine. He should be trying to sleep himself, not wandering the streets looking for some sign about what the fuck happened here.
The nearest car had its window open, the owner lost to the world in the driver's seat. Matt peeled back one eyelid, and frowned to see the same shiny ring around the man's eye. Same as the first woman he'd checked. Contact lenses. He hesitated, and then reached forward - might as well try it. He took them out carefully, but still jumped as the man grunted and opened his eyes to look straight at him.
"Just a few," he gasped, eyes rolling as he ran a hand through his graying hair. "Just drunk a few, Mary, just a few to help me sleep...."
He gave a great shuddering sigh and closed his eyes again. Matt fumbled to feel the man's pulse, mouth dry as he realised there was nothing. Something was horribly wrong here, and he sure as shit wasn't being paid enough to get to the bottom of it. He inspected the contact lenses despite himself, the hair on his arms and neck prickling as he recognised the faint imprint of a brand name: *Drift*.
Of course. He remembered the news articles very well: the global conglomerate had released a line of contact lenses only a few months ago, equiped with the technology to guarantee restful sleep. Part of its new biotechnology range. He'd heard a few rumours of some illicit stuff too. He vaguely recalled reading reports that the military were buying products from them that could scramble memory. All speculation, of course, unlike the lenses. Those were very real.
And had failed miserably in his case, as usual. He'd been counting on it to help with his college finals, but it had only made his insomnia worse.
He slipped the lenses into his pocket, his migraine now unbearable as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Time to go back, see if his employers were even awake. He had known the Drift lenses were big sellers, of course, but surely not everyone was being affected....he didn't know, he hadn't paid attention after it failed to help him sleep...
He felt a touch on his shoulder, and turned to see a man with bright green eyes, wide awake, smiling at him. He wore a sharply tailored suit, Drift's logo subtly embroidered on the left shoulder. Something sharp bit into Matt's hip, and then his eyes were sagging shut.
Sleep. He was falling asleep, at last...
---------
"Weird," he whispered as he woke up, vastly relieved to find himself safe in his bed.
He'd slept, at last, disturbing dreams or not. He frowned as he removed the contact lenses, the memory returning slowly. Drift. It had worked, sort of. Not exactly peaceful sleep, though. No, that dream had been some post-apocalyptic shit. But he *had* slept.
"Good stuff, eh?" he heard a cheerful voice next to him.
Matt smiled uncertainly at the guy's cheerful green eyes, and then felt silly for his fleeting flash of fear. This was his roommate of two years. No reason to be afraid. No reason at all.
"Bet you slept well," the man said. Sam, that was his name, wasn't it? Matt felt a panicky sort of embarrassment as he struggled to remember, and finally latched onto the name with more certainty. No, not Sam: Sean.
"I tried that Drift stuff myself a while ago," Sean was saying as he headed towards the door. "Slept like a baby. Do you know you can even download the images embedded in the lenses to see what you dreamed of? It's awesome."
Matt watched dumbly as Sean turned to smile at him in the doorway.
"I've got to get going. Class starts in fifteen minutes," he said, winking at him. "I'll be back to check on you later."
The door shut and clicked with an awful sort of finality. Matt shook his head to clear the thought. He was being stupid. It had been a dream, was all. Just a dream.
He was safe and at peace in his dorm. A poky little dorm, a little claustrophobic without any windows. He'd always hated that about the place. But safe and rested all the same.
Matt leaned back and closed his eyes, resisting the urge to check if someone was watching him. No reason to think that. No rational reason at all. | |
[WP] A henchman for an evil villain, defeats the main protagonist. | “You did what?!” Captain Ironsight slammed his fist on the steel table.
Joseph hesitated for a moment before answering. The whole time back to the Secret Lair, he’d fantasized about how proud Captain Ironsight would be. “I killed…Mystic Man?”
“It’s not a question, Joseph, you either did or you didn’t. Now, did you?”
Joseph hesitated again. “Y-yes.”’
“How?!”
“I shot him. In the face.” Joseph was more confident about answering that one.
“You shot him?”
Joseph nodded, “With a gun.”
Captain Ironsight sunk into his chair, his face in his hands.
“Are you alright, Captain?”
“Seventeen years, Joseph.”
“Uh, sorry?”
“Seventeen years I’ve been trying to beat Mystic Man.” The Captain looked up at his henchman. “I’ve invented death rays, recruited alien armies, developed super-flus, cloned myself, blotted out the sun, all to try and get him.” He sighed. “And all it took was a bullet to the face?”
“You’re telling me that you tried all that but you didn’t try shooting him?”
The Captain’s voice came out high pitched, whimpered, “I thought he was bulletproof.”
“Captain, he’s not Superman. He’s just a man with a few magical abilities and who’s, as it turns out, very susceptible to bullets.”
There was a brief silence between them.
“It wasn’t even a magic bullet?”
“Nope.”
Captain Ironsight sighed again. “Okay, well, whatever. Congratulations, I guess.” He got up from his chair, pulled a small flask from one of his jacket pockets and walked towards the exit, his shoulders low.
“Is something wrong, Captain?”
The Captain stopped and turned to the the man who’d killed Mystic Man. “No, Joseph, nothing’s wrong.”
“Well, where are you going? We still have to plan for when the other heroes find out about this.”
“You do it,” he raised the flask to his lips but stopped, “Or don’t. I don’t really care. I’m retired now.” He drank from the flask before continuing towards the exit. “Good luck, Joseph. And don’t wake my clones up. Last time I did that they joined Mystic Man.”
Then he was gone. Joseph stood in the Secret Lair alone, suddenly feeling a bit anxious. He looked up at the domed ceiling that rose two hundred feet up. Surrounded by hundreds of different pieces of equipment that the Captain had developed over the years, from laser pistols to super computers, he had it all. And now it belonged to him. All of this. The lair, the gadgets, all the henchmen, belonged to him. But now he needed a name. Every villain has a name right? He thought Captain Ironsight was cool when he had first joined but, now it just sounded silly. Almost like a cartoon character. He considered ‘Dangerous Man’ and ‘Killbot’ and ‘Master Destruction’, but none of them seemed to click. Then he considered his own name, Joseph. He liked his name, it was simple, not too hard to pronounce. Joseph. He liked it.
Joseph sauntered over to the super computer the Captain had called ‘Georgia’ and changed the account name from Captain Ironsight to Joseph.
“Hello, Joseph,” Georgia said in her smooth metallic voice.
“Hello, Georgia.”
“Would you like to see the news?”
“Sure.”
The display flashed to WCN where a woman was standing in front of the sandwich shop where Joseph had removed Mystic Man’s face. Below her was a red headline that read: MYSTIC MAN DEAD.
That felt good.
Another window appeared beside the main one, another news channel covering the same story. Two more windows popped up, then three more, then six more. All of them covering the death of Mystic Man. Joseph sat in the chair and leaned back, his hands behind his head and his fingers interlaced, as he admired his work. | " uh, hey boss, I have good news" said Rob the henchman as he walked to the planning room
" Go ahead, tell me" said his boss in a boring and uninterested voice
" you see, PowerMan is dead" said the henchman nervously
" Hold on, really? How did it happen?" His boss showed more interest in his story
" I just shot him in the head with a gun" he forced a giggle then he went in silence
" Oh wow, all my plans, my evil traps, my super weapons and a simple bullet to the head put him down? I always thought he was bullet proof, hell, I mean PowerMan sounds like a powerful guy against bullets" the boss laughed
" that's just all boss" the henchman walked away
" Stop right there" his boss shouted as he walked away "who would've thought, the city is now mine, and you are going to be a chief in command now, get your ass over here and help me plan the attack"
The henchman walked to his boss with a grin in his face, he knew no one would be able to stop them now that PowerMan was dead | |
[WP] You've been hired by the dark lord to play a wise mentor for up and coming adventurers. | "...And as you can see here," the Dark Lord, King Dragon, pointed at the contract with a bony finger, "you'll be given 14 paid vacation days a year should you accept the position. Plus, if you don't use those days, don't worry they'll be added onto next year."
King Dragon then looks at me with glowing red luminescent eyes. His expression is unreadable, with that hood over his head the only image presented to me is a void with glowing orbs. If I could guess, I would assume that the Dark Lord is gauging my reaction to his job offer: the wise mentor - or as I'd like to call the position - the Tutorial Character.
*Sigh* How the hell did I get myself in this situation? When the KingsList advertisement had offered a position for an individual with experience in the basics of everyday life, I had assumed that I would be a teacher for some shut-in prince or something along those lines. I didn't even know that the Dark Lord of the land had Internet, let alone know how to use it!
My first initial plan was to turn down the job proposition, but I when I asked why there was a skeleton lying in the corner of his throne room, King Dragon had let out a hallowed cackle of a hundred voices. "That was the previous wise mentor who failed their job interview. Had good potential too. It's unfortunate that he declined the job in favor of becoming a baker. *Or was, really.*" he had said.
So...yeah. Saying no politely gone and flung into the ashes of memories. My next step was to bullshit my interview questions and make King Dragon think that I was an incompetent idiot who didn't deserve the job.
I can only say that it only dug my grave of freedom even deeper.
"...So let's say I were a fresh up and coming adventurer with the quest to stop the handsome King Dragon from ruling over the world. If you were the wise mentor entrusted with helping me, the adventurer, how would you go about it?"
I shrugged as I let out the most forceful of yawns I could muster. "I would tell you to go fuck yourself and then proceed to throw you into the 2nd dungeon with nothing but the clothes on your back. I would tell you to "git gud" as I dangle your coin pouch and bag of potions from my middle finger before I would abruptly seal off the entrance."
"...And what of the 1st dungeon?" he had asked.
"Fuck the 1st dungeon. I'm not going to hold your hand while I lecture you about the history of why King Dragon is evil. You want information on the world and various combat? techniques? Go to a library, I don't care."
He looks at me in silence for a good minute. Heh, he's probably thinking of what a horrible mentor I would be.
"That...That's..." Ah yes, here comes the disappointing decline. I better prepare my fake tears. "...That's absolutely brilliant!"
Wait what.
"Leaving the adventurer to deal with the issue themselves in such a way where you don't appear cowardly or weak while at the same time you announce your neutral stance throughout the entire adventure - my word, that's genius! And leaving them to fend for themselves in the second dungeon without any training...I see what you're planning. Trying to weed out the fake adventurers from the real ones for me to fight eh? Natural selection at its finest! Hah hah hah, you definitely deserve the job; you're hired!"
And now we reach the present time.
As the Dark Lord points at various locations on the map of where potential loot drops may occur, an echo repeats in my mind.
*Fuck my life.*
| It's always a tavern isn't it? Thats were the lord high-demon or whatever he calls himself picked me up. Dragged me out when i was blin drunk and got me to sign a contract i never read, he just waved some gold in my face and i signed away. I guess it pays well, and as ive proved time and time again im a bad person.
Its pretty much how i grab the cannon fodder i send to their doom as well. Some new party swaggers in to town, has a few drinks and they practically sign there lives away for me.
I've been doing this a long time. Far too long really, though the beard and the grey hair helps the whole wise mentor get up. But no matter how long i do this it dosent stop the guilt building up. So there i would sit, downing my ale while the group of dwarves (or was it elves?) I sent away last week get gutted by my boss.
Oh i'd thought about fighting him back before, build up a few groups into a little army, and if i was sober when they approached me things might have been different.
Should have known who they were really, but ale never helps in the thinking department. I should have known id become a lose end, a drunk who couldnt be trusted to keep his mout shut much longer. So what do you know, they showed me their little warband, flashed me some gold and and a contract and i signed.
Idiot.
So here i sit. The rangers dead eyes stare back at me from whats left of his head. The mage just turned into red mist and im desperatley holding my bowels in. There is a wet smack as the fighter's lifeles body smacks against the back wall.
Im tired now, gods im so tired. They call to me, the souls of all thoose i damned, crying out for vengance, justice. Men and women who trusted me, even loved me. I never lifted a finger to save them. Like i said, bad person.
He turns to me, with thoose fiery pits that might be eyes.
"Bad choice old man" he hisses, the power behind his voice shaking me,"i dont take broken contracts lightly"
"Then just kill me", the words come out in a gurgle, the air forcing its way through the blood in my throat.
He just laughs, and laughs and laughs.
"Why would i do that when my pets can do it for me?"
The door behind him opens, and a thousand faces i had forgotten and buried stare me down, hunger burning in their dead eyes. It's like staring all the sins on my life dead in the face. And as one, thoose sins wash over me.
Wyrd Biđ Ful Aræd.
(Fate is inexorable) | |
Why don't we add a twist. For one willing to write with more constraint, the angel has a very very good reason to hate you. | [WP]Your guardian angel hates you. But they still have to do their job...technically... | “Good morning, Cassiel.”
“You can go fuck yourself.”
“Man, I haven’t even poured my coffee yet.”
“Your mother is rotting in hell.”
“I mean, you of all people would know.”
I really hate Monday mornings. I poured myself a cup of coffee and set it down on the table to cool as I made myself breakfast: microwaved pizza.
“Fat fucking slob.”
“Mmmhmm.”
Cassiel sat on the table glaring at me. Man, that guy just did not blink. Like ever. I don’t think that’s an angel thing either, his eyes were always so bloodshot.
Cassiel is my guardian angel, by the way. I’m the only one who can see him and he’s sworn to God himself to protect me from harm. He also really doesn’t like me. I’m not entirely sure why, but it’s whatever. I just think it’s pretty neat that God wants to protect me for some reason.
“Hey Cassie, we’re going to the city today to pick up some groceries. How’s that sound?”
“Get a job, you freeloading piece of shit. Worthless fucking pig.”
“Yeah, it sounds peachy to me too. Hopefully that pretty girl will be working the register today.”
“I hope she calls you human garbage and spits in your face.”
“God, I could only hope she’s that kinky.”
I took a sip of coffee as the vein in Cassiel’s forehead got even bigger.
***
I drive a piece of shit, 1993 Ford F-150. It’s old, grumbly, and not very reliable, but I love it. I hopped in my truck, cracked the window (yeah, I had roll it down, no fancy-ass features for me), lit a cigarette, and cranked the engine. Cassiel sat in the passenger seat, glaring at me.
“Yeah, I know these things will kill me, no need to preach.”
Cassiel just sat there in sullen silence.
“Oh right, you’re protecting me. So, no lung cancer, right?”
Silence.
“Praise God, it’s going to be a wonderful day.”
I shifted into drive and pulled out of my apartment complex. I tuned the radio to my favorite station – an alt rock, top 100 hits something or another. I had enough time to finish my smoke before we reached the grocery store. Cassiel just glared at me the whole ride.
I parked and we walked inside. Well, Cassiel kinda hovered, I guess. I picked up a cart and we started shopping.
“You think I should go with the 1% or 2% milk, Cassie?”
“I hope you die friendless and the buzzards feed on your corpse.”
“Like, I don’t even really know what the percentages represent. Fat content? Fat content, right?”
“This world would have been better off if your father had spilled the seed from which you came into the mouth of a cheap whore.”
“Is just one percent even that big of a difference?”
“I fucking hate you so much.”
“I’m going to get you some eye drops, bud. Your peepers don’t look that good.”
After we finished getting everything for the apartment, I rolled the cart over to the checkout line.
“Ooh, Cass, look, the pretty girl is working. Think I should talk to her?”
“The only good you’ll ever do is provide a home for maggots.”
“Yeah, confidence is key. Thanks, bud.”
I waited in line until it was my turn to check out and started placing my items on the… the fuck is that thing called? The checkout table? You know, the thing you put your shit on and then the cashier presses a button and it top bit moves towards them. I have no idea what the fuck it’s called.
Anyway, I put my shit on that and attempted small talk.
“Morning!”
The pretty girl glanced up at me. God, I love red hair and freckles. They’re so cute.
“Good afternoon.”
“Been pretty busy?”
“No, most people are at work this time of day. Not too busy.”
“Fuck yeah.”
I’d like to say I’m pretty good at small talk.
“You’re an idiot that should have died in the womb,” Cassiel said from behind me.
“Thanks Cassie.”
The girl looked up again. “Umm, my name’s Brittney, not Cassie. And thanks for what?”
“Thanks for what?”
“What?”
Suddenly, I heard a crash of broken glass and a man shouted, “EVERYONE DOWN ON THE FUCKING GROUND!”
There was a rain of automatic fire and bits of ceiling tile fell to the ground. A man was walking towards us. He was wearing a black ski mask, a wife beater, and raggy looking jeans. He was also carrying an ugly black gun.
Brittney screamed and dropped to the floor. I was less concerned.
“Hey Cassie, look. I think the store’s getting robbed.”
“I love how you state the obvious with such a sense of discovery. You fucking tool.”
The robber pointed the gun at me. “GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND, FUCK FACE.”
“You are a fuck face,” Cassiel muttered.
“I’m good, thanks,” I said to the robber.
“Are you crazy?!” Brittney screamed from the floor. “Get on the ground or he’ll kill you!”
“No, seriously, it’s cool. I have a guardian an- “
***
I woke up later in the back of an ambulance. I had that mask thing on and I was hella drowsy. People still say hella, right? Is that cool? I think it’s cool.
“Oh shit, he’s up. Hey Jake, he’s awake.”
“God be praised. Sir, you just survived eight gunshot wounds to the chest. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I don’t think even one of your vitals was hit. It’s a goddamn miracle.”
I spotted Cassiel in the corner of the ambulance, glaring. Classic Cassiel. It took a lot of effort, but I managed to give him a thumb’s up.
“Not dead. I’ll take it, Cassie,” I said with as much a smile I could muster.
“Everyone who ever loved you was wrong.”
| Never EVER ever ever ever date your guardian angel. Trust me it does not go well. I don't know why I was given the crazy one who decided to reveal herself to me. And I don't know why in Hell there wasn't a form to get reassigned.
We broke up after dating for a tumultuous four months. I don't even understand how you can get attached that quickly with such ferocity. There was that one time where she flew me up to the top of a high rise in New York and we sat perched on the brick ledge watching the night. We had our first kiss that night, man you should kiss an angel sometime it is out of this world.
Anyways, back to what I meant to start saying. Mary now just makes my life miserable. Today it was absolutely pouring, the kind of rain that comes at you sideways. I was rushing to make the crosswalk, all I did was look up and make sure that little dude was inside the crossing indicator. This asshat in a slammed Toyota went straight through the red and was on track to take me out. "Thankfully" Mary decided to actually do her job and save me. She did this by pushing me back and to the left, straight into the muddiest grossest puddle in all of New York. No amount of showers could get the smell of piss, stale cigarettes and mildewy newspaper off of me.
This was not the first time she did her job less than enthusiastically. A few weeks after we broke up I walked my Dalmatian through a less than safe neighborhood when a small firefight broke out. I heard some yelling about "dope" and "my bitch" and then shots started ringing out. I guess a bullet was on path to my head cause Mary stepped in and directed the .12 straight into my helpless Spot.
After that incident I did something I had never done before, pray. I prayed to God to give me a new guardian angel. I told him that if he could do me that one favor I would go to church, hell I would even become a priest. I'm still waiting for him to get back to me.
At this point I'm afraid to leave my house. I don't to put myself in danger, thus putting anything I love in danger. God, she is a creative bitch I'll tell you that much. The stuff that she thinks of to subject me to should make her the fucking Devil... oh my god that's brilliant! Screw this praying to God stuff, I 'm gonna pray to the Devil. If I can convince him to take her on as assistant I would be home free. I'll take my chances without a guardian angel, just get her away from me. I'll be back, I have some praying to do. |
[WP] There are 2 humans left on Earth: you, and a crush you once asked out who said "I wouldn't date you if you were the last person on Earth" | "Well, I guess this is it. Time for me and you to hook up, after all."
"It's not gonna happen."
"Wait, what? We're the last two people on the planet. Shouldn't we start making babies?!"
"Sigh. That's not how it works."
"Oh, I'm pretty sure it is. I mean God, or someone, chose the two of us to be here together to start a new civilization."
"Look. I think you're a decent person. We can hang out and try to enjoy this time, but we aren't going to sleep together."
"So you'd doom all of humanity rather than have sex with me? We have to at least attempt to save the world."
"Nice try. I'm still not gay." | We sat together on the old park bench, ironic how this symbol of our childhood was still some how a salvageable piece of furniture. The beacon of youth and my first realization that I had feelings for this girl. She didn't really like me or no my name, but I knew hers and it sent tingles throughout my body every time I thought of it. I thought back to that day when I was young and the words she said to me, "I wouldn't date you if you were the last person on Earth," Now ten years have passed, the world is basically obliterated, I am now twenty-two.
I got up from the bench, looked at her, and said
"Well, isn't this ironic huh?"
She looked at me in a way I've never seen before. She was almost astonished by looking at the young boy she once rejected blossomed into the man before her, well young man, I'm not like thirty-five, that's a man, but anyways. I could tell she was attracted to me, so then I saw my opportunity. I sat back down and got real close to her. I put my arm around her and I said
"So, would you still not date me?"
Not a word left her mouth she just looked at me. I took her hand and squeezed it and said,
"Hey it's totally okay the past is in the past. Now are you gonna talk? I mean it's gonna be really boring if I have nothing but one fourth of a picnic table to talk to."
She smiled, good I was getting somewhere, I asked my question again. This time she finally gained the courage to say,
"Well, I realize how stupid I was, and how mean that must've been, but wow you've really turned into quite the man you know it?" I smiled, and then I asked another question, that only seemed right to me.
"So, with that being said I've got one more question.....You wanna start to repopulate the Earth?" her eyes widened. I gave her one of those sexy forward slash flirtatious winks, only I probably looked like a pirate trying not to lose his eyeball. "I mean, what else are we gonna do for fun?" She was still in awe, but I waited, I mean I didn't really have any other options. Then after a millennia of waiting she finally managed to give a head nod. "So uh, is that a yes?"
She finally managed to squeak out,
"Yes..yes I would." I was wondering why it took her so long so I asked,
"Hey, why'd it take you so long to answer?" she looked at me and replied
"Well it's almost like the universe intended this to happen," I just looked at her confused.
"What?"
"Well you know, like you're like crazy hot and stuff now," I'll be honest with you guys I was probably like a 5 on a scale of one to ten, but whatever.
"Oh well thank you, you're definitely not bad yourself." She enjoyed that compliment very much so, and then she paused a little more. She then summoned the courage to lean in for a kiss. It was at this point I saw how things were going to go, success!
Then I raised my hand and I put it on her face and said, "Listen here freak!" then I paused hoping a case of deja-vu would hit her. "I wouldn't date you if you were the last person on Earth!" I then got up, looked down at here and sprinted away. I didn't know where I was going nor did I really care, I had gotten my revenge. Besides did you really think two humans could repopulate a home of 7 billion people? No way man! There's like inbreeding and shit it wouldn't work after awhile. I mean sure her and I could do it but what about our kids who do they have yanno? Oh well, I'm gonna like go and see how close I can get to the Seattle Space Needle before I die. I mean, I live in Minnesota so it'll be interesting...650 feet off the ground..
EDIT: Age difference | |
[WP] There are 2 humans left on Earth: you, and a crush you once asked out who said "I wouldn't date you if you were the last person on Earth" | I could see my neighbor approaching me with that same walk that had caused me to trip and spill my lunch tray all over the cafeteria floor in the third grade. As she walked, she held her eyes slightly downcast - like when you're walking down a long hallway and someone is walking down from the other way, you're the only two people, and it's too awkward to make eye contact.
Her eyes were..."beautiful blue, like the sky, like the seas, and my favorite blueberry slushie" was how I had described them in a poem I had written for her in the fourth grade. I didn't show her that poem until the sixth grade. She laughed and threw it in the trash.
She got closer and I could see that her hair was tied back in an intricately braided ponytail. The sun gleamed bright on high, and turned her blonde hair golden. She looked up and smiled with beautiful white teeth that I hadn't seen been yellow since she joined the cheerleading team in 5th grade.
Without asking, she came and sat with me on the porch and stared ahead, like I had been doing. I glanced at her - found the small mole on her neck that I loved; no bigger than a period- and then turned away.
I pointed at the sidewalk in front of her house. "Right there. I fell off my bike and broke my hand the first day I saw you in the front yard with your mom."
I could feel her looking at me. I guided my hand to the right, pointing at her lawn. "And that's where I sang love songs to you all-night in the 7th grade."
I dropped my hand and touched the small space on the porch beside me. "When I fell off and broke my hand, you laughed and you've been laughing at me ever since. When I sang to you, you never opened the window; never gave me any window of opportunity to get to know you. But you see this spot on the porch where I'm touching?"
She looked down at my hand, briefly, then back up at my face and nodded.
"This is where I had my first kiss. That night, in 8th grade, when you told me that you wouldn't date me if I was the last person on Earth...I cried. Right here. And some girl left the party, crossed the street, and sat right here with me. Cried with me. Comforted me and told me that you weren't worth spending so much energy and time over. I hated her. Because I didn't realize it then - but what she was saying was true. When she kissed me, I sat up and wiped my lips and told her to get off my porch and never to talk to me again.
For the next three days after that, I was mean to her...so...mean... But for some reason, she just kept smiling at me, doing little things for me, trying to make me laugh and...basically doing all the things I did to get you to like me.
Finally I just decided to get with her because I surely wasn't getting any attention from you. I had planned to just use her as a practice for if you suddenly had a change of heart. What I hadn't planned on...was falling in love with that girl.
Two weeks later, she was dead."
Her eyes widened. She knew who I was talking about. They had announced her name on the speakers in school.
She lifted her hand to touch mine, but I pulled away.
"In 8th grade," I continued. "...you told me you wouldn't date me if I was the last person alive. Well," I gestured around, "we are. And unless we find other people out here, somewhere, the human race is going to die with us. Because I don't want to date you, sleep with you, or any of that. I'll help you survive, but that's it. I know what love is, and you can't provide it to me."
Then I walked inside and quietly shut the door.
| "Well...well...well," Each word slid off Jay's tongue in a slow, deliberate manner as he looked at the woman standing in front of him. This wasn't just any woman though, this was *her*.
"Jay," Stacy said softly, "Let's not make this any more uncomfortable than-"
"Silence!" Jay bellowed at her. He probably meant for his voice to sound commanding, or threatening, but instead it cracked and he sounded like a child on the edge of pubescence. Of course, Stacy knew that this was probably an apt description of him despite the fact that the greasy haired, fedora wearing man in front of her was on the cusp of thirty. They were in what had been his mom's basement, he was sitting on a life-size replica on the Iron Throne, and at his right hand was a body pillow with a picture of his waifu Mashiro on it.
"I'm king of this world now," he continued, "And I will decide how *comfortable* this will be."
His extra emphasis on the word comfortable made her shiver. Much to Stacy's dismay, he noticed.
"You can't even contain yourself," Jay smiled as he rose to his feet, "Just the thought of the comforts I could offer has you shivering where you stand."
Stacy did her best not to feign a gagging sound, and instead stared at him in silent contempt. Reading social cues had never been Jay's strong point though, and the effect was lost on him.
"Kneel," he suddenly whispered.
"Excuse me?" Stacy blurted out.
"Twelve years, Stacy." Jay sighed, "Twelve years ago you told me you wouldn't date me if I was the last person on Earth, and then left me for *Chad*. And now, you show up here as one of the last two people on this planet, begging me for companionship. I will consider it, for I am a gentleman, but first you will kneel."
Stacy wanted to scream at him, to call him vile and disgusting, to berate him for not having changed an ounce over the past twelve years. She thought that coming here would be a good thing, surely no one could be this awful, this self absorbed, this delusional about what the world is and their place in it for twelve years without some sort of reality check.
But she was wrong. He hadn't changed.
And he was right. They were the last two people on Earth. Her sweet, sweet, Chad was gone. The man who had hugged her all night the day her puppy had died, who had stayed up two nights in a row writing a song to propose to her, who was universally loved by everyone he came into contact with, and was one of the most genuinely good people she had ever met.
She swallowed her pride, and unconsciously touched her stomach. Inside of her was Chad's unborn child, and as the child grew she would eventually be unable to take care of herself alone.
*Just once,* she thought as she fell to one knee, *Sleep with Jay once, convince him that the child is his, and then you might have a chance.*
She would have the child, and after a few years they would run. But for the short term, she would have to put up with Jay.
He approached Stacy, and cupped her cheek in his shaky hands. It was all she could do not the pull away from him. Jay leaned in close to her ear, and whispered.
"Let's take this upstairs M'lady," he said with what sounded like his attempt at a seductive voice. Before Stacy could react, she felt something wet and warm slowly moving its way up the side of her face.
He was licking her, she realized.
"Okay," she yelled, rising to her feet, "I'm done. Nope. You're insane."
"What?" Jay said, dumbfounded.
"I was wrong," Stacy explained as she turned her back on him, "I thought I was being too cruel when I said I would never date you. I didn't put much thought into it when I said it, and now that we're in that exact situation, I thought maybe it could work."
"I was just-," Jay began.
"Shut up," Stacy cut him off, "Now I realize I wasn't cruel *enough*. That I wasn't clear *enough*. Not only will I still not date you, even though we are the last two people on Earth, I will risk the life of myself and my unborn child just to be sure that I never have to see you again. I would rather my child and myself die, than have both of us survive living with you."
Jay began to whimper, and Stacy decided the least she could do was leave so he didn't have to cry in front of her.
"Friendzoned again," he sighed into his body pillow, as the basement door slammed shut. "Stupid bitch. I'm a nice guy, what's wrong with her?"
________________________________________________________________
Did you like this story? Check out my other stuff over at r/Niedski! I post all of my stories there! | |
[WP] There are 2 humans left on Earth: you, and a crush you once asked out who said "I wouldn't date you if you were the last person on Earth" | Humanity had been refining teleportation technology for two decades, but with all the progress, the machines still needed two operators on either end to function. For this reason, two volunteers had to remain behind when we evacuated Earth. It just so happened that the only two volunteers qualified to operate a teleporter were me and my middle school crush, Jessie.
The last person we ported out was the president of the United Space Council, who had given us a small medal ceremony and speech of thanks. After confirming he was through safely, we shut down the teleporter for the last time.
"So what now?" Jessie asked, looking at me from over her console.
"Whatever we want, I guess. We've got plenty of supplies left, so that won't be an issue." It was true. A month's worth of food, water and other necessities had been stockpiled in a bunker for us: enough to last the rest of our lives.
"So what do you want to do? We can go anywhere, do anything, no one can stop us." She replied.
"I don't know. There's nothing in particular I want to see. What about you?"
"Nah. I'm not really into travel."
"I guess we could just watch Netflix in the bunker."
"That sounds good to me."
We walked across the street to the bunker in silence. It didn't look very sturdy: it didn't need to be, as it wasn't designed to protect us, just to be a place to live comfortably for our remaining few weeks. We sat down on the couch and I switched on the TV, looking for something to watch.
"What about this documentary?" I suggested. "It's about colonising Mars."
"Nah, I'm not into history."
In the end we settle for an old episode of South Park. It really went downhill after the fourtieth season or so.
After watching a while, I ask her:
"Hey Jessie, you remember when we were in 8th grade...?"
"And you asked me out?"
"Yeah. Do you remember what you said?"
"I said 'No'."
"Yeah, but do you remember your exact words? I do."
"I don't remember."
"You said you wouldn't go out with me if I was the last guy on Earth."
She paused, and we both burst out laughing.
"Maybe I was a little harsh." she admitted.
"So you're saying..."
"Maybe. Give me a month to decide." | "Well...well...well," Each word slid off Jay's tongue in a slow, deliberate manner as he looked at the woman standing in front of him. This wasn't just any woman though, this was *her*.
"Jay," Stacy said softly, "Let's not make this any more uncomfortable than-"
"Silence!" Jay bellowed at her. He probably meant for his voice to sound commanding, or threatening, but instead it cracked and he sounded like a child on the edge of pubescence. Of course, Stacy knew that this was probably an apt description of him despite the fact that the greasy haired, fedora wearing man in front of her was on the cusp of thirty. They were in what had been his mom's basement, he was sitting on a life-size replica on the Iron Throne, and at his right hand was a body pillow with a picture of his waifu Mashiro on it.
"I'm king of this world now," he continued, "And I will decide how *comfortable* this will be."
His extra emphasis on the word comfortable made her shiver. Much to Stacy's dismay, he noticed.
"You can't even contain yourself," Jay smiled as he rose to his feet, "Just the thought of the comforts I could offer has you shivering where you stand."
Stacy did her best not to feign a gagging sound, and instead stared at him in silent contempt. Reading social cues had never been Jay's strong point though, and the effect was lost on him.
"Kneel," he suddenly whispered.
"Excuse me?" Stacy blurted out.
"Twelve years, Stacy." Jay sighed, "Twelve years ago you told me you wouldn't date me if I was the last person on Earth, and then left me for *Chad*. And now, you show up here as one of the last two people on this planet, begging me for companionship. I will consider it, for I am a gentleman, but first you will kneel."
Stacy wanted to scream at him, to call him vile and disgusting, to berate him for not having changed an ounce over the past twelve years. She thought that coming here would be a good thing, surely no one could be this awful, this self absorbed, this delusional about what the world is and their place in it for twelve years without some sort of reality check.
But she was wrong. He hadn't changed.
And he was right. They were the last two people on Earth. Her sweet, sweet, Chad was gone. The man who had hugged her all night the day her puppy had died, who had stayed up two nights in a row writing a song to propose to her, who was universally loved by everyone he came into contact with, and was one of the most genuinely good people she had ever met.
She swallowed her pride, and unconsciously touched her stomach. Inside of her was Chad's unborn child, and as the child grew she would eventually be unable to take care of herself alone.
*Just once,* she thought as she fell to one knee, *Sleep with Jay once, convince him that the child is his, and then you might have a chance.*
She would have the child, and after a few years they would run. But for the short term, she would have to put up with Jay.
He approached Stacy, and cupped her cheek in his shaky hands. It was all she could do not the pull away from him. Jay leaned in close to her ear, and whispered.
"Let's take this upstairs M'lady," he said with what sounded like his attempt at a seductive voice. Before Stacy could react, she felt something wet and warm slowly moving its way up the side of her face.
He was licking her, she realized.
"Okay," she yelled, rising to her feet, "I'm done. Nope. You're insane."
"What?" Jay said, dumbfounded.
"I was wrong," Stacy explained as she turned her back on him, "I thought I was being too cruel when I said I would never date you. I didn't put much thought into it when I said it, and now that we're in that exact situation, I thought maybe it could work."
"I was just-," Jay began.
"Shut up," Stacy cut him off, "Now I realize I wasn't cruel *enough*. That I wasn't clear *enough*. Not only will I still not date you, even though we are the last two people on Earth, I will risk the life of myself and my unborn child just to be sure that I never have to see you again. I would rather my child and myself die, than have both of us survive living with you."
Jay began to whimper, and Stacy decided the least she could do was leave so he didn't have to cry in front of her.
"Friendzoned again," he sighed into his body pillow, as the basement door slammed shut. "Stupid bitch. I'm a nice guy, what's wrong with her?"
________________________________________________________________
Did you like this story? Check out my other stuff over at r/Niedski! I post all of my stories there! | |
[WP] You're taking a stroll down by the lake when suddenly a cheeseburger attached to a hook and line flies out of the water and lands at your feet. | *splat* the cheese burger lands at my feet. I stop walking and look down at it. I was on my way to get exactly that. It looked delicious sitting there taunting me. I bend down to take a closer look, it smells amazing, and it is served exactly how I would order it, extra pickles and fries under the top bun.
I quickly look around to see where it came from, there is nobody in sight. I look over to the nearby lake, some small ripples but nothing alarming. This means no one would know if I ate this sidewalk burger.
I touched the burger and my hand sunk into it, I tried pulling it free but soon found my other hand and my left foot all stuck to this weird burger.
Suddenly I'm yanked sideways and I lose my balance. I'm being dragged across the grass towards the water. I'm kicking my free foot but can't catch anything to save me, I'm about to scream but it's to late, with a jerk I slide into the water...
I can't breath...
It's so dark...
So.... cold... | So, I was walking down by the lake when the craziest thing happened! A cheeseburger came out of the water! There was a line attached to it oddly, but that's no problem for my trusty pocketknife! After I cut the line and got the random hook that was in the burger for some reason out, I saw some weird bubbling in the water. It probably wasn't anything though. | |
[WP] You're taking a stroll down by the lake when suddenly a cheeseburger attached to a hook and line flies out of the water and lands at your feet. | Sam got out of the large office building where he spent most of his time. It had been a rough day, the kind that requires some form of treating yourself to forget. His boss had been all over him about some emails or something for the third time this week. He was not quite sure what the big deal was, as he had not necessarily listened to anything his boss had said.
An idea started to form. Sam was very fond of central park, and after the day he'd just had he thought he deserved to take a walk in the nature. It was not more than ten minutes away, so he started the walk. When he arrived in the park he instantly went down to his favorite place by the lake. As he walked along the side of the lake and the sun sent its rays on the lake, making it glitter and seem almost alive, he thought about when he'd been fishing there at night during his teenage years. He felt pretty certain that it had been illegal, but he had most definitely had a really good time, and that's all that mattered. Besides, he had caught a large Carp. As his thoughts traveled, he started thinking to himself about how stupid fishes must be to time and again be tricked by baits. What kind of stupidity must one not have to walk right in to obvious traps only because one felt like eating?
His thoughts were abruptly cut short when a cheeseburger flew out of the water like it had been a dolphin, only to land right in front of his feet. Something seemed very peculiar about this cheeseburger, as it had a hook attached to it. Sam was fairly certain that McDonalds did not attach hooks to their cheeseburgers, but he was not one to refuse free food. Normally, he might have thought it over a bit more, but being at the office for eight hours tends to make you hungry. Sam picked up the burger.
"oh" was all he was able to think before hitting the water. The hook had apparently been attached to a fishing line, who could have guessed?
He was slowly pulled into the deep, and when he almost was at the bottom, he spotted it. A fish holding a fishing rod.
"BRGHGLM!" Sam screamed with fear, the sound distorted as it usually is when one attempts to speak under water. Side effect of opening your mouth under water also includes drowning, which Sam was soon going to understand.
There were many things Sam did not know about the world, but he did know that fish were not supposed to be fishing for humans. Nor were they supposed to talk, but this one did.
"For my father!" It exclaimed.
As Sam sank to the bottom of the lake and stared into the odd, bobbly eyes of the talking fish, he understood the fish was a Carp.
"Fuck." | So, I was walking down by the lake when the craziest thing happened! A cheeseburger came out of the water! There was a line attached to it oddly, but that's no problem for my trusty pocketknife! After I cut the line and got the random hook that was in the burger for some reason out, I saw some weird bubbling in the water. It probably wasn't anything though. | |
[WP] You're taking a stroll down by the lake when suddenly a cheeseburger attached to a hook and line flies out of the water and lands at your feet. | *Well... That's weird.*
I inspect the cheeseburger. It is a little wet. Yet, for some reason, it looks deliciously good. Yet, it looks like a trap. You know, it being attached to a hook and all.
*Should I... Eat it?*
I mean, come on. I am hungry, nearest place to eat is 25 minutes of walk away. What else can I do? I can silently detach the hook, right?
I sigh. Then I crouch to detach it.
Everything happened so fast. I felt a strong pain in my hand, then I fell down then I was in water then...
I try to understand what's going on while I'm holding my breath and getting pulled down.
*Oh... It was a trap.*
Then, I see them.
There are 2 humanoid shapes, they are probably a little longer than 4 meters. I desperately try to get free. Then, I hear a cavernous voice:
"Yay! I got one dad!"
"Good job. I'm proud of you. But we can not eat this one."
"Aww, why?"
"Because it's a white male. Their taste is bad."
"Okay dad, what are we going to do with it?"
"Release it back to the wild."
As it releases me, I rush back to the surface. I get out as fast as possible. I reach the shore and I fall on my knees with the shock.
Suddenly, the same cheesburger flies back without a hook, and it has a note attached to it:
**For your troubles.** | So, I was walking down by the lake when the craziest thing happened! A cheeseburger came out of the water! There was a line attached to it oddly, but that's no problem for my trusty pocketknife! After I cut the line and got the random hook that was in the burger for some reason out, I saw some weird bubbling in the water. It probably wasn't anything though. | |
[WP] You're taking a stroll down by the lake when suddenly a cheeseburger attached to a hook and line flies out of the water and lands at your feet. | *splat* the cheese burger lands at my feet. I stop walking and look down at it. I was on my way to get exactly that. It looked delicious sitting there taunting me. I bend down to take a closer look, it smells amazing, and it is served exactly how I would order it, extra pickles and fries under the top bun.
I quickly look around to see where it came from, there is nobody in sight. I look over to the nearby lake, some small ripples but nothing alarming. This means no one would know if I ate this sidewalk burger.
I touched the burger and my hand sunk into it, I tried pulling it free but soon found my other hand and my left foot all stuck to this weird burger.
Suddenly I'm yanked sideways and I lose my balance. I'm being dragged across the grass towards the water. I'm kicking my free foot but can't catch anything to save me, I'm about to scream but it's to late, with a jerk I slide into the water...
I can't breath...
It's so dark...
So.... cold... | John stretched his legs under his desk as he checked his watch, then sat up as he realized it was lunchtime.
As he was on the way to the cafe he always went to for lunch, John saw a cheeseburger lying on the ground right next to the lake. He instinctively paused to look at it, then continued walking.
'I wonder what kind of person would drop a whole cheeseburger on the ground like that. Maybe it slipped out of his hand, the poor bastard.'
While John was contemplating the mysterious cheeseburger, a homeless man had noticed it as well and was making his way over to it. He grinned in happiness, anticipating a free meal once he dusted off the dirt. He grabbed it, wiped it on his torn, patched shirt, then lifted it to his mouth before he noticed the translucent line attached to it. As soon as he took a bite, however, a hook hidden inside the burger plunged into the roof of his mouth. Before he had enough time to register anything other than the pain, the line dragged him into the water, leaving behind nothing but ripples.
John turned around to look at the burger once more, and realized it had disappeared. Thinking no more of it, he opened the door of Cafe Kappa and stepped inside.
EDIT: I messed up and wrote about a beach instead of a lake. Slightly edited. | |
[WP] You're taking a stroll down by the lake when suddenly a cheeseburger attached to a hook and line flies out of the water and lands at your feet. | Sam got out of the large office building where he spent most of his time. It had been a rough day, the kind that requires some form of treating yourself to forget. His boss had been all over him about some emails or something for the third time this week. He was not quite sure what the big deal was, as he had not necessarily listened to anything his boss had said.
An idea started to form. Sam was very fond of central park, and after the day he'd just had he thought he deserved to take a walk in the nature. It was not more than ten minutes away, so he started the walk. When he arrived in the park he instantly went down to his favorite place by the lake. As he walked along the side of the lake and the sun sent its rays on the lake, making it glitter and seem almost alive, he thought about when he'd been fishing there at night during his teenage years. He felt pretty certain that it had been illegal, but he had most definitely had a really good time, and that's all that mattered. Besides, he had caught a large Carp. As his thoughts traveled, he started thinking to himself about how stupid fishes must be to time and again be tricked by baits. What kind of stupidity must one not have to walk right in to obvious traps only because one felt like eating?
His thoughts were abruptly cut short when a cheeseburger flew out of the water like it had been a dolphin, only to land right in front of his feet. Something seemed very peculiar about this cheeseburger, as it had a hook attached to it. Sam was fairly certain that McDonalds did not attach hooks to their cheeseburgers, but he was not one to refuse free food. Normally, he might have thought it over a bit more, but being at the office for eight hours tends to make you hungry. Sam picked up the burger.
"oh" was all he was able to think before hitting the water. The hook had apparently been attached to a fishing line, who could have guessed?
He was slowly pulled into the deep, and when he almost was at the bottom, he spotted it. A fish holding a fishing rod.
"BRGHGLM!" Sam screamed with fear, the sound distorted as it usually is when one attempts to speak under water. Side effect of opening your mouth under water also includes drowning, which Sam was soon going to understand.
There were many things Sam did not know about the world, but he did know that fish were not supposed to be fishing for humans. Nor were they supposed to talk, but this one did.
"For my father!" It exclaimed.
As Sam sank to the bottom of the lake and stared into the odd, bobbly eyes of the talking fish, he understood the fish was a Carp.
"Fuck." | John stretched his legs under his desk as he checked his watch, then sat up as he realized it was lunchtime.
As he was on the way to the cafe he always went to for lunch, John saw a cheeseburger lying on the ground right next to the lake. He instinctively paused to look at it, then continued walking.
'I wonder what kind of person would drop a whole cheeseburger on the ground like that. Maybe it slipped out of his hand, the poor bastard.'
While John was contemplating the mysterious cheeseburger, a homeless man had noticed it as well and was making his way over to it. He grinned in happiness, anticipating a free meal once he dusted off the dirt. He grabbed it, wiped it on his torn, patched shirt, then lifted it to his mouth before he noticed the translucent line attached to it. As soon as he took a bite, however, a hook hidden inside the burger plunged into the roof of his mouth. Before he had enough time to register anything other than the pain, the line dragged him into the water, leaving behind nothing but ripples.
John turned around to look at the burger once more, and realized it had disappeared. Thinking no more of it, he opened the door of Cafe Kappa and stepped inside.
EDIT: I messed up and wrote about a beach instead of a lake. Slightly edited. | |
[WP] You're taking a stroll down by the lake when suddenly a cheeseburger attached to a hook and line flies out of the water and lands at your feet. | *Well... That's weird.*
I inspect the cheeseburger. It is a little wet. Yet, for some reason, it looks deliciously good. Yet, it looks like a trap. You know, it being attached to a hook and all.
*Should I... Eat it?*
I mean, come on. I am hungry, nearest place to eat is 25 minutes of walk away. What else can I do? I can silently detach the hook, right?
I sigh. Then I crouch to detach it.
Everything happened so fast. I felt a strong pain in my hand, then I fell down then I was in water then...
I try to understand what's going on while I'm holding my breath and getting pulled down.
*Oh... It was a trap.*
Then, I see them.
There are 2 humanoid shapes, they are probably a little longer than 4 meters. I desperately try to get free. Then, I hear a cavernous voice:
"Yay! I got one dad!"
"Good job. I'm proud of you. But we can not eat this one."
"Aww, why?"
"Because it's a white male. Their taste is bad."
"Okay dad, what are we going to do with it?"
"Release it back to the wild."
As it releases me, I rush back to the surface. I get out as fast as possible. I reach the shore and I fall on my knees with the shock.
Suddenly, the same cheesburger flies back without a hook, and it has a note attached to it:
**For your troubles.** | John stretched his legs under his desk as he checked his watch, then sat up as he realized it was lunchtime.
As he was on the way to the cafe he always went to for lunch, John saw a cheeseburger lying on the ground right next to the lake. He instinctively paused to look at it, then continued walking.
'I wonder what kind of person would drop a whole cheeseburger on the ground like that. Maybe it slipped out of his hand, the poor bastard.'
While John was contemplating the mysterious cheeseburger, a homeless man had noticed it as well and was making his way over to it. He grinned in happiness, anticipating a free meal once he dusted off the dirt. He grabbed it, wiped it on his torn, patched shirt, then lifted it to his mouth before he noticed the translucent line attached to it. As soon as he took a bite, however, a hook hidden inside the burger plunged into the roof of his mouth. Before he had enough time to register anything other than the pain, the line dragged him into the water, leaving behind nothing but ripples.
John turned around to look at the burger once more, and realized it had disappeared. Thinking no more of it, he opened the door of Cafe Kappa and stepped inside.
EDIT: I messed up and wrote about a beach instead of a lake. Slightly edited. | |
[WP] You're taking a stroll down by the lake when suddenly a cheeseburger attached to a hook and line flies out of the water and lands at your feet. | Sam got out of the large office building where he spent most of his time. It had been a rough day, the kind that requires some form of treating yourself to forget. His boss had been all over him about some emails or something for the third time this week. He was not quite sure what the big deal was, as he had not necessarily listened to anything his boss had said.
An idea started to form. Sam was very fond of central park, and after the day he'd just had he thought he deserved to take a walk in the nature. It was not more than ten minutes away, so he started the walk. When he arrived in the park he instantly went down to his favorite place by the lake. As he walked along the side of the lake and the sun sent its rays on the lake, making it glitter and seem almost alive, he thought about when he'd been fishing there at night during his teenage years. He felt pretty certain that it had been illegal, but he had most definitely had a really good time, and that's all that mattered. Besides, he had caught a large Carp. As his thoughts traveled, he started thinking to himself about how stupid fishes must be to time and again be tricked by baits. What kind of stupidity must one not have to walk right in to obvious traps only because one felt like eating?
His thoughts were abruptly cut short when a cheeseburger flew out of the water like it had been a dolphin, only to land right in front of his feet. Something seemed very peculiar about this cheeseburger, as it had a hook attached to it. Sam was fairly certain that McDonalds did not attach hooks to their cheeseburgers, but he was not one to refuse free food. Normally, he might have thought it over a bit more, but being at the office for eight hours tends to make you hungry. Sam picked up the burger.
"oh" was all he was able to think before hitting the water. The hook had apparently been attached to a fishing line, who could have guessed?
He was slowly pulled into the deep, and when he almost was at the bottom, he spotted it. A fish holding a fishing rod.
"BRGHGLM!" Sam screamed with fear, the sound distorted as it usually is when one attempts to speak under water. Side effect of opening your mouth under water also includes drowning, which Sam was soon going to understand.
There were many things Sam did not know about the world, but he did know that fish were not supposed to be fishing for humans. Nor were they supposed to talk, but this one did.
"For my father!" It exclaimed.
As Sam sank to the bottom of the lake and stared into the odd, bobbly eyes of the talking fish, he understood the fish was a Carp.
"Fuck." | *splat* the cheese burger lands at my feet. I stop walking and look down at it. I was on my way to get exactly that. It looked delicious sitting there taunting me. I bend down to take a closer look, it smells amazing, and it is served exactly how I would order it, extra pickles and fries under the top bun.
I quickly look around to see where it came from, there is nobody in sight. I look over to the nearby lake, some small ripples but nothing alarming. This means no one would know if I ate this sidewalk burger.
I touched the burger and my hand sunk into it, I tried pulling it free but soon found my other hand and my left foot all stuck to this weird burger.
Suddenly I'm yanked sideways and I lose my balance. I'm being dragged across the grass towards the water. I'm kicking my free foot but can't catch anything to save me, I'm about to scream but it's to late, with a jerk I slide into the water...
I can't breath...
It's so dark...
So.... cold... | |
[WP] You're taking a stroll down by the lake when suddenly a cheeseburger attached to a hook and line flies out of the water and lands at your feet. | *Well... That's weird.*
I inspect the cheeseburger. It is a little wet. Yet, for some reason, it looks deliciously good. Yet, it looks like a trap. You know, it being attached to a hook and all.
*Should I... Eat it?*
I mean, come on. I am hungry, nearest place to eat is 25 minutes of walk away. What else can I do? I can silently detach the hook, right?
I sigh. Then I crouch to detach it.
Everything happened so fast. I felt a strong pain in my hand, then I fell down then I was in water then...
I try to understand what's going on while I'm holding my breath and getting pulled down.
*Oh... It was a trap.*
Then, I see them.
There are 2 humanoid shapes, they are probably a little longer than 4 meters. I desperately try to get free. Then, I hear a cavernous voice:
"Yay! I got one dad!"
"Good job. I'm proud of you. But we can not eat this one."
"Aww, why?"
"Because it's a white male. Their taste is bad."
"Okay dad, what are we going to do with it?"
"Release it back to the wild."
As it releases me, I rush back to the surface. I get out as fast as possible. I reach the shore and I fall on my knees with the shock.
Suddenly, the same cheesburger flies back without a hook, and it has a note attached to it:
**For your troubles.** | It was strange.
I was walking on the lake shore when a *cheeseburger* landed at my feet. I stopped, looked at it, and continued walking on briskly, not looking back.
Why?
It was dry, looked realistic, smelled *good*... But it had teeth indents and had a distinct blood stain in its top bun.
As I got further away, I turned back in time to see it slide back into the water as if it were bait on a hook. | |
[WP] A young farmer leaves home to sign up as another faceless soldier in the Evil Overlord's army. The farmer's adventures on the way make the Overlord very worried. | The Overlord wasn't particularly fond of these sorts of things. For all the evil he'd done in the world, it seemed somehow *wrong*. In a deeply uncomfortable way, not the usual laughably absurd way.
He sank down in his chair as his generals shifted nervously and looked down at their notes. He could hear every sizzle of lava in the pool behind him. He sat bolt upright in his chair when the door opened, barely catching the skull goblet he disrupted.
The person of the hour walked through with two demons pulling treasure chests behind her. "Overlord," she called, "My mission was a success." Her eyes gleamed as she opened up the chests to reveal gold and jewels in one, the other a dead body.
The Overlord cleared his throat and looked at his generals. Then, he boomed as softly as he could, "Maria, please take a seat." He gestured to an open seat at the very end on the long table. She blinked, then sat down, her feet not quite touching the floor. "Please close the doors on your way out," he told the demons as he waved at them to leave.
"Am I in trouble?" She was already starting to look upset, so the Overlord waved his hand.
"No, you're not in trouble," he paused and looked down at his notes, clearing his throat, "Maria, over the last several months, you have been a joy to our armies here. Some of your recent behavior has made us all concerned. We are all your friends and just want the best for you, so we gathered here today with the help of Dr. Chaos," here he nodded to the therapist on his left. "We have come up with a plan to get you help and consequences if you refuse them."
Maria started to protest, but the Overlord cut her off, "Maria, you have pillaged and burned down several villages."
She frowned, "They raised armies against us."
"You single-handedly drown a nest of dragon hatchlings. You fed their meat to their own mother."
She shook her head emphatically, "Their parents were part of the resistance! They wiped out a whole town of dark elves!"
"You enslaved an entire species of pixies."
She started again, "They were useful!"
"Then, eradicated them when they no longer proved useful, causing them to go extinct."
She went quiet and looked at her hands. The Overlord clasped his own together in front of him, leaning forward. "You have made me very proud, Maria, but also very concerned. Where are your parents?"
She kicked her feet and replied glumly, "Resistance killed them. Siblings, too."
The Overlord nodded slowly. "We thought something like that might have happened," he shouted as gently as possible.
"Please don't kick me out! I can do better!" She was starting to cry.
The Overlord looked to Dr. Chaos and his generals for strength and took a deep breath, "Maria, you won't be allowed on any more missions."
She covered her face and croaked, "Why?"
"Maria, you're twelve. You need to be in school!" He hadn't meant to shout loudly enough to cause the lava to flare up, and winced.
Maria looked up defiantly, "You're racist! I'm a gnome!"
The Overlord shook his head, "That may have worked before you hit your growth spurt, but we need you to be honest."
She sniffed and rubbed at her face, "Sorry I lied. The officers wouldn't let me help otherwise."
The Overlord sighed and General Diana handed Maria a handkerchief. "It's not so bad, Maria," Diana menaced as kindly as she was capable of.
"What's not bad about it?" She grumbled into the lacy rag, rubbing at her face.
"Well," The Overlord started, "I've been having trouble producing an heir. General Michael and I are very busy adults often leading armies in different places. We can't ever agree on which woman would be the best to be blessed by our choosing." The Overlord took his partner's hand in a rare display of public affection.
General Harold gasped and grabbed General Ted by the shoulder, hissing, "I told you so!"
The Overlord gave him a dirty look while several of the older generals tried not to cackle.
General Michael nodded, ignoring the interruption, "We decided an heir just needs to carry on the legacy we started when we overthrew the empire. We both finally came to an agreement. Maria, would you give us the honor of being our daughter?"
Maria blinked, looking at all the adults in the room, then hauled herself onto the table and ran across it, giving them both a big hug. Though, mindful of the spikes on their armor. "Yes!" She jumped back and jumped up and down on the table.
She paused, "But I can still go on missions, right?"
The Overlord started to protest, but General Michael began before him, "If you do well in school, we'll discuss it."
A few days later, the generals threw the new family an adoption party.
---
EDIT: Did a small continuation on [this prompt](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5x93cm/wp_you_used_to_be_the_most_powerful_evil_overlord/?st=IZU0N8L5&sh=e4b51343) if anyone is curious. | *The Overlord wishes to see you in his chamber immediately.*
I blink down at the words, printed in emotionless black ink on the white card which fell from the envelope which the masked guard has handed me. I suppose that "masked guard" doesn't really describe much- seeing as everyone is masked- but there isn't much else that sticks out. Just like everyone, he has had the honor of becoming one of the Faceless: the Overlord's soldiers. Every time I see one of the masks, I feel another pang of longing for the day that I will get my mask.
"To what do I owe the honor?" I ask the guard.
"The Overlord does not need to give a reason." The voice responds from behind the mask. "Come with me."
He turns, and I follow him obediently from my small room, leaving Sam snoring in the bunk above mine. He hasn't woken up since we got here, and that makes sense. We had one hell of a journey.
The guard turns corners and walks down stairs, leading me deeper into the maze of the Grand Castle. It's the largest, most important building in all of Kazor. It is here where the Overlord observes us all, watches out for us, *protects us*. I lose count of the time as we go deeper. Finally, the guard stops in front of a nondescript wall and holds up his hand. I stop and wait.
"Walk forward." The guard orders. I blink.
"Into the wall?"
"Look again."
I turn my attention to the wall- but it's no longer a wall. Two sets of jet black doors, embellished with gold, have been set in the stone.
"Go."
I don't need to be told three times. I step forward and open the door. Mutely, I step into the enormous room. The ceiling arches high overhead, and the walls glitter with gold ornaments. Piles of treasure lie on the floor, and candles float in midair on the sides of room. A throne sits at the far end of the room. On instinct, I fall to my knees and bow my head.
"*Rise.*" The voice is ancient, but so powerful I feel my body tremble slightly.
"Oh great Overlord," I say softly, getting to my feet. "To what do I owe this honor?"
"*Are you Silver Freeman?*"
"Yes." I nod, clasping my hands together. As I stare at the throne, I realize why I'm not seeing anything. What I thought was one throne is actually two, set back to back. The Overlord is sitting in the one facing away from me.
"*Silver Freeman, are you a farmer?*"
"I was!" I say excitedly. "I want to become one of the Faceless--!"
"*SILENCE.*"
"My apologies." I take a deep breath, looking at my feet again.
"*Silver Freeman.*" He repeats my name like an incantation. "*Could you please describe your journey here?*"
"Of course!" I sputter. I think for a second, and then start at the beginning. "I left home about two weeks ago and started for the Grand Castle. I only made it to the mountain range at the edge of my village before I encountered a bunch of madmen who claimed that the Overlord had destroyed their families and killed thousands of innocents. I told them off and stayed in an inn for the night, but when I woke up I heard a commotion outside. When I went to investigate, I was knocked out and awoke in the back of a large cart, chained to the men from the bar."
"*Continue.*" The Overlord intones emotionlessly.
"Well, they carted us to this quarry that I'd never seen before. There were hundreds of men at work, and they were all trying to unearth this great statue, but they'd only gotten the head out. I started to work, but I realized that the Overlord would have wanted me to be brave. I broke out that night, and I went to destroy the statue."
"*Did you?*"
"No." The word slips out of my mouth, and I realize it's a lie. I am lying to the greatest man in Kazor. "I only destroyed the head."
"*Did you find anything?*" For the first time, there's an emotion in the voice. It sounds... excited. No- *hungry*.
"No." Again, the lie comes out, and I try to correct myself, but my tongue seems to be made of stone.
"*Nothing?*"
My mind flashes to the necklace, hidden in my rucksack in my room. The face of the dragon on it glitters in my mind's eye. "Nothing." I say.
"*What happened next?*"
"I ran." I shrug. "I ran and made it through the mountains. I met my roommate- Sam Jinx- and a few of the other Faceless candidates along the way, and I had to run from some pretty nasty innkeepers, but that's about it."
"*Mmm.*" The voice considers these words. When it speaks again, the tone is so casual that I know something is off. "*Have you been having any dreams?*"
I should have known that this question was coming. Dreaming is forbidden in Kozar. If you have any dreams pertaining to the Overlord, you can be sentenced to death. Luckily, I've lied once before.
"No!" I force my voice to become offended. "Dreaming is freakish."
"*Very wise.*" The Overlord is silent again. "*I hope I do not see you again soon, Silver Freeman. It may be on very... different terms.*"
The doors open behind me, and I feel the hands of two guards as they pull me from the room. My mind reels all the way back up the stairs and through the halls, the conversation aching in my head. When I reach the room again, the guards leave. Sam is sitting on the bed, her boots laced up, waiting for me.
"Silver!" She gets up, looking terrified. Her hazel hair curls at the ends, and her blue eyes cut through my distress. "I heard you met the Overlord!"
"Yeah." I nod shortly. "I did."
"Woah." She plops down on the bed. "Was it awesome?"
"You could say that." I say slowly. *That's the problem,* I muse silently as I go to my drawer. Sam has started to talk of how she wishes she was there, but I'm absorbed in my own thoughts. *I want to think that, but it wasn't awesome. It was scary.*
*I thought I might die.* The thought is there and then gone.
"I'll meet you in the dining hall." I say to Sam. She nods, and walks from the room. Checking to make sure that she's gone, I pull the necklace out from my bag. The large diamond has a dolomite dragon wrapped around it, it's obsidian scales and eyes glinting. Without thinking, I tuck the dragon necklace around my neck, hiding it under my shirt. *Today should be interesting.*
***
"My lord?"
"*That boy must be watched.*"
"Do you mean--?"
"*Watch him. If he changes, if he has taken the Voice of the Ancients- it will spell our demise.*"
Four voices echo the sentiment:
"Yes, my lord."
"It shall be done."
"Let him die."
"He will not escape our vision."
Let me know if you want me to continue it, this is the longest response to a writing prompt I've ever tried :D. | |
[WP] After finding out little Suzy lied about her cancer, the Make-A-Wish foundation sets out to un-grant her wish. | "Wait. Suzanne did *what?*" I asked.
"She lied. She doesn't have cancer. She made it all up just for some goddamn celebrity to come and talk to her. Talk about desperate, heh".
Charles doesn't seem to care. But I do. She faked a terminal, traumatizing disease just to talk to some kid from YouTube she likes. I've been working at Make-A-Wish for 9 years and I never realized someone could do something so scummy. The girl is 12! She should know better. I can't believe this. You know what? I'm taking back her wish. I've gone and riled myself up, but seriously. This isn't okay! I'll completely undo her wish.
I just sent an email to the youtuber. You wouldn't believe how easily you can get that kind of stuff. I explain to him that Suzy actually faked her cancer and his email was so filled with hate you wouldn't believe it. I was thinking that I was angry, but jeez.
Anyway, I send Suzy and her family an email and have them come down to our office. When Suzy arrives, she sees this youtuber- his name's Dan, I learned- and her face splits into a malicious grin. I feel my lips curl into an even more malicious grin. I have her sit in some spare plastic chair I found while me and Dan sit in our large leather chairs. I recline mine a bit, while Dan leans forward until he's inches away from her face. Her eyes are practically bulging out of her head. I watch in anticipation as he takes a deep breath, preparing to tell her off.
Oh. Oh man. She is TWELVE. He's sitting here using swear words I haven't even heard of. It took her less than a second to recoil in shock. Oh, jeeezus. She is in tears. She is about to flood this whole damn office. I decide to stop Dan, now. She's learned her lesson. I usher her out of the room, to her mom. Her mom is visibly shaken. I hear Suzy starting to babble and cry, and I run back into my office. I'm in here now. I'm so about to get sued. Lord help me, why do I feel so bad? She literally faked cancer! | She started to feel the pulsating pain in her arm. It started at her finger tips and quickly travelled up her hand as if her blood had been replaced with needles which cut her insides with every breathe. In the next moment, she felt an immense pain over take her entire being. In the moment after that, she was still. She took a breathe to remember she was still alive. After she had grown numb to the pain, she slowly moved her hand to her mouth and took a drag of her cigarette. Her feet gave out beneath her as she slid down the brickwall of a building which composed one half of a narrow alleyway.
For the first time in what felt like eternity she felt her body again. And she had remembered all the wounds which riddled it. She drifted in and out of focus, fixating on the blurry silhouettes of her legs which occupied the length of the alley. She could make out all the slashes and bullet holes. She moved her head towards the inside of alley, her vision slowly panning travelling a second behind. The length of the alleyway seemed to stretch for eternity. A barely visible white light in the center marked the other end. The dead bodies of the repo men, twisted and mutilated, littered the floor. Swords protruding at every angle, guns scattered on the ground. Blood and limbs painted the brick and the concrete. She began to tire, her vision losing depth. The alley began to seem like an abstract work of art.
Suddenly a sweeping numbness began to over take her and she felt the lightest she had ever felt. A spectre, making her peace with an imperfect world. The light at the end of the tunnel grew and grew as the she let herself surrender to anything for the first time. As the whiteness overtook her, a face began to take shape.
"Little Susie, Little Susie," a teenage female voice teased. The voice sounded familiar to her but she couldn't remember who it belonged to.
"Don't call me that," came a shrieking retort. She felt the voice come from inside her chest burning it way out of her body. It was hers. From a past self. She remembered being seven years old.
"Oh Susie, dont get mad. If you promise to stop pouting, ill let you in on a little secret," The kind glowing face in front of her said.
"Hmmmmm, ok but it better be a good one," she heard herself respond.
The face in front of her moved within inches of her face. She found herself lost in the most radiant smile and she had never felt so safe. "Its the little things that make the biggest difference."
Suddenly a jolt shot through her spine and she felt every neuron in her brain light up at the same time. She snapped back to reality with hyper focus. She rested her body, seeing which muscles still had the strength to move. With every ounce of will left within her, she reached for a little black box lying a couple feet away, connected by chain and extending away from a dead repo man. She raised the box to her mouth, "code name cancer," she paused to catch her breathe, "eliminated."
Her arms dropped down, rapidly slamming the concrete. She could no longer feel anything. She was only a mind, resolving its final musings on the world for sport.
Cigareete in her mouth, dying in alley in the pouring rain, she smiled, "I'm such a cliche."
The look in her eyes flared between nothingness and gratitude. "Wherever you are big sis, I hope you're okay."
And the world cut to black. | |
[WP] You're an undercover spy who has been working the same mark for so long you've ended up married with children. You're beginning to think this is your life now until unexpectedly, at family breakfast one morning you finally get the information you've been after | Fifteen Years
It has been Fifteen years, fifteen years since I got what should have been the easiest assignment of my career. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’ve been undercover in many situations just like this one but for some reason this one has played out differently. The target was simple, woo the widow of a former high ranking member of the military. She was an easy mark in theory but no matter what I couldn’t get the information out of her. All I had to do was find out the secrets her husband knew and who he sold them to. It’s been fifteen years and we’ve been married for ten of those years.
I don’t even know if I’m a spy anymore, I haven’t had contact with the company since I went under. I’ve kept them up to date for a while but eventually just gave up. Do they really care that much about what this woman knows? I’ve been expecting something to happen to me to get me out but it never came. Eventually I fell in love with the target, my wife now. I did the one thing a spy should never do. The only thing is I don’t really care anymore. I’ve stopped trying for the information. I’m happy living a normal life now. We have two beautiful children together. We are your average nuclear family and I couldn’t be happier. The last ten years have been the best of my life. Then one morning my entire life got turned flipped upside down.
“Now that the kids are off to school we can finally talk” she said. “Sure, sounds important, last time you waited for the kids to be gone you told me you were pregnant. Shit are you pregnant again,” I asked. “No, it’s worse than that, something I’ve been hiding for fifteen years.” I couldn’t believe it was she finally going to give me the info about her husband after all these years. Why now of all times? Would I be able to report it in still, do they still care? Do I care still? I think I made the decision that I wouldn’t do anything with the info before I finished asking myself. What could it be?
“I’m a spy, and I was sent to find out who you sold secrets to!” “What,” was all I could muster. “I was sent to find out who you sold secrets to and why you would betray our country.” “But then I fell in love with you and couldn’t do it anymore,” she said. Somehow she knew I was a spy but for some reason thought I was a traitor. “This has to be some kind of joke right.” “I was told to do the same thing to you,” I told her. We both just sat there, unable to muster a word. How could both of our intel be so similar, our missions practically the same. Was this some way to get rid of both of us from our respective agencies. Then it happened, I was blind and deaf in an instant. Knocked on my ass by several heavily armored police both my wife and myself were taken into custody. When I finally came to I realized I was in a room all too familiar. I was in the cell our company used for traitors and terrorists. I was set up somehow but then I saw her curled up in a corner. My wife was in the same cell. We were both set up, but why?
To Be Continued?
| It existed, but the potatoes didnt know. At a time like this there's only one. Thing. To. Do.
*crash car explosion scene*
THIS SUMMER
*ballet music with dolphin noises*
AN EXPERIENCE OF TWO LIFETIMES
*guitar doing sick solo for about 12 minutes*
ONE MAN. ONE WOMAN.
*noises of sex*
A PERFECT TOOTHBRUSH!!!
*explosions and screams*
The story of a thing that happened at a place that exists and stuff goes alright with time because thats how things go.
*screen fades delicately to black*
"You are here"
IN CINEMAS CLOSE TO YOU SOOOOOON
Edit: i like to answer to writing prompts with the randomest think i can think of. I do it for myself i think its hilarious | |
[WP] You're an undercover spy who has been working the same mark for so long you've ended up married with children. You're beginning to think this is your life now until unexpectedly, at family breakfast one morning you finally get the information you've been after | I rolled up my windows and took a deep breath. This was it. I'd waited so long and for a few moments over the years forgotten why I was really here. Then it all came together this morning. I finally got it. Well, not it. I finally got *her*.
The hundred feet from my car to that building seemed like a mile. Every step I took was agony. Earlier that morning, she told me she had to go in to work. I knew nobody else would be there at midnight on Christmas Eve. She probably saw my car drive up and thought I was here to tell her to come back home, to be with her family today. Or maybe to bring her something, maybe just be with her. I wish.
Come to think of it, I wished for a lot of things over the last 16 hours. I wished it didn't have to come to this. I wished she hadn't said anything. I wished I didn't remember the last 3 years. I didn't have a genie, though. I knew what I had to do. She said it. And I would remember the last three years for the rest of my life.
So I accepted it. I put on a smile and waved at the camera with my free hand as I arrived at the gate, trying my best to suppress these feelings. Her voice came out through the little speaker.
"Hey hon, what are you doing here?"
"Well I was on my way back to my secret base to debrief my supervisors about the last three years I spent deep undercover, but I figured I'd stop by and bring you some snacks for the night."
"Ha. Ha."
She buzzed me through the gate from her office. This was it. I almost threw up a dozen times walking through the deserted hallways. I had been in here before now, but there were always people. Too many people. I opened the box I had been carrying and pulled out the gun. The gun I'd cleaned every day since I started this mission. The gun I just realized I never wanted to use again.
I opened the door and she smiled at me. She *smiled*. She kept smiling even after she saw the gun. I'll never know what she was thinking, why she smiled.
I pulled the trigger before I could convince myself not too. That was the hardest part; I knew I'd be able to do the rest no problem. I dragged her body down the hallway to the elevator. She had told me about the security system so many times that I knew exactly what I had to do. I put her limp hand on the scanner and waited for the elevator.
All the way down I kept thinking about the memories I made with her. I never wanted kids, I knew it was a bad idea. She insisted. Thinking about the kids was the worst thing I could do then, so I tried to think of something else. The mission. That's what I'm supposed to be thinking about. There were some points on that elevator ride I couldn't even remember the mission. All of those years pretending, I always kept the mission at the front of my mind. But that was the idea of the mission. Now, it was here.
I don't know how long the elevator door had been open. Maybe five seconds, maybe 5 minutes. I walked to the safe.
"Our anniversary," she had told me over a year ago. I was surprised I didn't have to press her harder. All I did was wonder out loud how complicated of a combination a safe like that could have. The way her eyes shined when she told me that, that's the way I want to remember her.
But now is for the mission. Later is for everything else. So I opened the safe, and there it was. A thumb drive. Three years of my life, the life of the woman I loved, and the future of two orphaned children all for this thumb drive. For the first time I wondered if it was worth it. I hoped it was.
I made it out of the building before I cried. I'd have to leave this part out of my report. Who's ever heard of a spy crying after a successful mission? I drove to the spot I'd driven by every day for three years. Always driving by, never driving to. Maybe they'd given up on me. Maybe the contact wouldn't be there. But he was.
"Took you long enough." He looked like he had just woken up.
"You're tellin' me. Any idea what's on this thing?"
"Nope. We don't ask questions, remember?"
"Yeah, I remember. Now I just wish I could forget." | It existed, but the potatoes didnt know. At a time like this there's only one. Thing. To. Do.
*crash car explosion scene*
THIS SUMMER
*ballet music with dolphin noises*
AN EXPERIENCE OF TWO LIFETIMES
*guitar doing sick solo for about 12 minutes*
ONE MAN. ONE WOMAN.
*noises of sex*
A PERFECT TOOTHBRUSH!!!
*explosions and screams*
The story of a thing that happened at a place that exists and stuff goes alright with time because thats how things go.
*screen fades delicately to black*
"You are here"
IN CINEMAS CLOSE TO YOU SOOOOOON
Edit: i like to answer to writing prompts with the randomest think i can think of. I do it for myself i think its hilarious | |
[WP] You're an undercover spy who has been working the same mark for so long you've ended up married with children. You're beginning to think this is your life now until unexpectedly, at family breakfast one morning you finally get the information you've been after | I rolled up my windows and took a deep breath. This was it. I'd waited so long and for a few moments over the years forgotten why I was really here. Then it all came together this morning. I finally got it. Well, not it. I finally got *her*.
The hundred feet from my car to that building seemed like a mile. Every step I took was agony. Earlier that morning, she told me she had to go in to work. I knew nobody else would be there at midnight on Christmas Eve. She probably saw my car drive up and thought I was here to tell her to come back home, to be with her family today. Or maybe to bring her something, maybe just be with her. I wish.
Come to think of it, I wished for a lot of things over the last 16 hours. I wished it didn't have to come to this. I wished she hadn't said anything. I wished I didn't remember the last 3 years. I didn't have a genie, though. I knew what I had to do. She said it. And I would remember the last three years for the rest of my life.
So I accepted it. I put on a smile and waved at the camera with my free hand as I arrived at the gate, trying my best to suppress these feelings. Her voice came out through the little speaker.
"Hey hon, what are you doing here?"
"Well I was on my way back to my secret base to debrief my supervisors about the last three years I spent deep undercover, but I figured I'd stop by and bring you some snacks for the night."
"Ha. Ha."
She buzzed me through the gate from her office. This was it. I almost threw up a dozen times walking through the deserted hallways. I had been in here before now, but there were always people. Too many people. I opened the box I had been carrying and pulled out the gun. The gun I'd cleaned every day since I started this mission. The gun I just realized I never wanted to use again.
I opened the door and she smiled at me. She *smiled*. She kept smiling even after she saw the gun. I'll never know what she was thinking, why she smiled.
I pulled the trigger before I could convince myself not too. That was the hardest part; I knew I'd be able to do the rest no problem. I dragged her body down the hallway to the elevator. She had told me about the security system so many times that I knew exactly what I had to do. I put her limp hand on the scanner and waited for the elevator.
All the way down I kept thinking about the memories I made with her. I never wanted kids, I knew it was a bad idea. She insisted. Thinking about the kids was the worst thing I could do then, so I tried to think of something else. The mission. That's what I'm supposed to be thinking about. There were some points on that elevator ride I couldn't even remember the mission. All of those years pretending, I always kept the mission at the front of my mind. But that was the idea of the mission. Now, it was here.
I don't know how long the elevator door had been open. Maybe five seconds, maybe 5 minutes. I walked to the safe.
"Our anniversary," she had told me over a year ago. I was surprised I didn't have to press her harder. All I did was wonder out loud how complicated of a combination a safe like that could have. The way her eyes shined when she told me that, that's the way I want to remember her.
But now is for the mission. Later is for everything else. So I opened the safe, and there it was. A thumb drive. Three years of my life, the life of the woman I loved, and the future of two orphaned children all for this thumb drive. For the first time I wondered if it was worth it. I hoped it was.
I made it out of the building before I cried. I'd have to leave this part out of my report. Who's ever heard of a spy crying after a successful mission? I drove to the spot I'd driven by every day for three years. Always driving by, never driving to. Maybe they'd given up on me. Maybe the contact wouldn't be there. But he was.
"Took you long enough." He looked like he had just woken up.
"You're tellin' me. Any idea what's on this thing?"
"Nope. We don't ask questions, remember?"
"Yeah, I remember. Now I just wish I could forget." | Fifteen Years
It has been Fifteen years, fifteen years since I got what should have been the easiest assignment of my career. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’ve been undercover in many situations just like this one but for some reason this one has played out differently. The target was simple, woo the widow of a former high ranking member of the military. She was an easy mark in theory but no matter what I couldn’t get the information out of her. All I had to do was find out the secrets her husband knew and who he sold them to. It’s been fifteen years and we’ve been married for ten of those years.
I don’t even know if I’m a spy anymore, I haven’t had contact with the company since I went under. I’ve kept them up to date for a while but eventually just gave up. Do they really care that much about what this woman knows? I’ve been expecting something to happen to me to get me out but it never came. Eventually I fell in love with the target, my wife now. I did the one thing a spy should never do. The only thing is I don’t really care anymore. I’ve stopped trying for the information. I’m happy living a normal life now. We have two beautiful children together. We are your average nuclear family and I couldn’t be happier. The last ten years have been the best of my life. Then one morning my entire life got turned flipped upside down.
“Now that the kids are off to school we can finally talk” she said. “Sure, sounds important, last time you waited for the kids to be gone you told me you were pregnant. Shit are you pregnant again,” I asked. “No, it’s worse than that, something I’ve been hiding for fifteen years.” I couldn’t believe it was she finally going to give me the info about her husband after all these years. Why now of all times? Would I be able to report it in still, do they still care? Do I care still? I think I made the decision that I wouldn’t do anything with the info before I finished asking myself. What could it be?
“I’m a spy, and I was sent to find out who you sold secrets to!” “What,” was all I could muster. “I was sent to find out who you sold secrets to and why you would betray our country.” “But then I fell in love with you and couldn’t do it anymore,” she said. Somehow she knew I was a spy but for some reason thought I was a traitor. “This has to be some kind of joke right.” “I was told to do the same thing to you,” I told her. We both just sat there, unable to muster a word. How could both of our intel be so similar, our missions practically the same. Was this some way to get rid of both of us from our respective agencies. Then it happened, I was blind and deaf in an instant. Knocked on my ass by several heavily armored police both my wife and myself were taken into custody. When I finally came to I realized I was in a room all too familiar. I was in the cell our company used for traitors and terrorists. I was set up somehow but then I saw her curled up in a corner. My wife was in the same cell. We were both set up, but why?
To Be Continued?
| |
[WP] Your cat normally brings you dead mice or birds. This time, he's brought you a live fairy. | 'Lord Grey, it really is you' - the fairy voice was filled with joice, even when she is hanging from Lourantine's mouth.
Lourantine is a fine cat, if we ignore the fact she often bring me dead mice or birds, but still she get rid of the pests around so I keep her to make sure no mice gonna chew my precious books. Her habits from the old time when she was homeless is almost gone, the only big issues is she tends to get into fight with dogs and bringing me dead animals. But this time, she bring me a god damn fairy. And of all fairy the most annoying one of them all, Cebredine. Rufus was supposed to get rid of unwanted guesses, br it fairy or nymphs. But since Lourantine and Rufus have the typical cat-dog relationship so she snuck the fairy in when Rufus wasn't around thinking I would eat it after I throw away all the mice and birds.
'No. And you are not welcomed here.' I pick her up from Lourantine's mouth, put her into an empty bottle and sealed it. I can not let her return and let everybody know where I am after all the effort, brainwashing magic don't work too well on her because of her carefree nature, letting her go outside and Lourantine may eat her like those mice I throw away. So I guess the only choice is to keep her in the bottle until I find a way to deal with the situation. Probably moving to another place again.
Lourantine sits there, waiting for my compliment and head rub. Unlike Rufus she is just an animal, she don't understand what I am, so she think that I like her 'gift' this time. As I rub her head, Rufus enter the room, switchs to his humanoid form and ask:
'What are we gonna do about Ceb? We can't just keep her here for long, Liz will organise search party, probably gonna ask the hooman to help. We need to move. And get rid of that cat. She bring nothing but trouble.'
'Yes I know. But we just finished setting up wards here, it needs time to be undone, else they can not find Ceb after we leave. Maybe I should give Lou a youkai soul. She is useful and just become part of the family. Either way, we are keeping her.'
'Rufus why are you so mean. The cat is so pretty and you want to throw her away? How heartless are you? - Ceb said with an annoying tone.
'Maybe I should just feed you to the cat. It love bird and mice after all' - Rufus pick up the bottle as he say.
'Lord Grey help me. Rufus is picking on me. Rufus is a meanie. Big meanie.'
'If you both don't stop I'm gonna feed you both to Lou. And I mean it. And we are keeping Lou. No discussion. And keep watch on Ceb ok Rufus? I'm gonna give Lou a youkai soul then we gonna move out. Perhaps she will causes less trouble afterwards.'
'She better be. Else I will feed Ceb to her and let Liz do whatever she want.'
'Okay then, Im gonna head to the basement then. Ah, and what kind of souls should I use, a shapes shifter or just some cat monsters?'
'Shapes shifter. I had had enough with cat and their shenanigans. At least a shapes shifter will be less annoying.'
'Well then' - I pick Lou up and head to the basement - 'Let's get the party start.' | William was sitting at his kitchen table enjoying a cup of piping hot coffee, with sugar and almond milk of course. As a cool breeze abruptly slipped under the crack of the window onto Will's face he thought, "Just where could that cat be?" It was around this time his cat, Poster, would come scratching back at the door after romping outside for a majority of the morning. He took another sip of coffee. Then another. And another. By the time he was finished he was almost worried. Where could Poster possibly be by now? William rose from his seat in a flash, frantically grabbed his coat and turned the front door handle. To his pleasant surprise, there Poster was, sitting down fur and all... but there was something in her mouth.
"Disgusting, the stupid thing brought me another mouse again." William thought.
But upon closer inspection, the mouse had dainty clear wings on its back, and pure blond hair on its head, and tiny hands and feet! In fact it wasn't a mouse at all, it was a fairy!
"What the fuck, you're a fairy!" he yelled.
Bending down to help the little creature escape the fangs of its vicious captor, the fairy responded, "Please, mister, save me." And just as William readied his hands to unhinge Poster's jaw, the cat ferociously clamped down, plunging its teeth into the body of the fairy, staining them a deep, unforgettable shade of red. The fairy's ear-splitting scream deeply pierced William's soul, and from that day on he was a different man. | |
[WP] Your cat normally brings you dead mice or birds. This time, he's brought you a live fairy. | "P-pp-please save me!" Yelled the fairy from within the jaws of Fluffykins.
My chance, to redefine my life... the moment I've wanted, needed.
"Fluffykins. Kill."
On command the jaws shut, not a single whisper is heard from the fairy, Fluffkins swallows whole, I can see the body sliding down his throat.
"Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?" I playful question Fluffykins before going about my day. | William was sitting at his kitchen table enjoying a cup of piping hot coffee, with sugar and almond milk of course. As a cool breeze abruptly slipped under the crack of the window onto Will's face he thought, "Just where could that cat be?" It was around this time his cat, Poster, would come scratching back at the door after romping outside for a majority of the morning. He took another sip of coffee. Then another. And another. By the time he was finished he was almost worried. Where could Poster possibly be by now? William rose from his seat in a flash, frantically grabbed his coat and turned the front door handle. To his pleasant surprise, there Poster was, sitting down fur and all... but there was something in her mouth.
"Disgusting, the stupid thing brought me another mouse again." William thought.
But upon closer inspection, the mouse had dainty clear wings on its back, and pure blond hair on its head, and tiny hands and feet! In fact it wasn't a mouse at all, it was a fairy!
"What the fuck, you're a fairy!" he yelled.
Bending down to help the little creature escape the fangs of its vicious captor, the fairy responded, "Please, mister, save me." And just as William readied his hands to unhinge Poster's jaw, the cat ferociously clamped down, plunging its teeth into the body of the fairy, staining them a deep, unforgettable shade of red. The fairy's ear-splitting scream deeply pierced William's soul, and from that day on he was a different man. | |
[WP] Your cat normally brings you dead mice or birds. This time, he's brought you a live fairy. | Cats are curious animals; my cat especially so.
Trouble is her name; she is such a bubbly cat.
After my girlfriend dumped me, Trouble tried to cheer me up.
First she brought me dead mice, then she brought me dead birds. I preferred birds than mice, the meats are more tender and tasty when fried.
You see, I was too depressed to go grocery shopping. Thanks to Trouble, I didn't have to starve. I cooked the birds and mice she brought me and we shared the meals together. Two lonely souls, two hungry mouths.
One day she brought me a fairy. It was a curious creature: a tiny girl in a blue dress, with wings like dragon fly. Her face was quite pretty, more pretty than the girl who left me.
"What does this mean?" I asked Trouble. "She hardly have any meat on her. Better bring me more mice, they make better dinner than this scrawny creature."
"How dare you call me a scrawny creature!" the fairy protested, her voice like wind chime in rain.
"You can talk?" I frowned. "I don't like my dinner talking."
"I am not a dinner," she folded her arms angrily. "I am Rainy, the Fairy of Lost Love. Your cat found me in the Tree of Broken Love. She showed me your broken heart and told me your sad story..."
"Blah blah blah," I said impatiently. "Are you going to dribble on and on? I am hungry, I don't have all day..."
She sighed, "I know you are sad. I have what you need..."
"Food?"
She shook her head.
"Dessert?"
She shook her head again. "Closed your eyes," she said, quietly and shyly.
I closed my eyes.
She clapped her hands and suddenly when I opened my eyes again, I saw a beautiful girl. She looked like Rainy, but taller, and with boobs.
She sat next to me and put her hands on mine. Her hands were soft, like sweet puddings.
"I too have lost my love," she said sadly. "Ever since, I have been looking for a true love that will never break my heart..."
"I don't mean to be rude, but I haven't eaten all day. Is your story going to be long?" I asked with my greatest patience.
She frowned but said softly, "You say mean things only because you are sad. I knew because I too had been sad. Let me show you something..."
She opened her hands and on her palms laid a large rose petal broken in half. "This is my broken heart. To the one who can make it whole..."
"For me?"
"Yes for you," she smiled, like morning dew.
I took the petal and put in in my mouth, chewed it for a few seconds. It wasn't very tasty, so I spit it out.
"You!" she looked at me incredulously, "No wonder she left you!"
With a puff of smoke, she transformed back to a fairy and flied into the starry night sky.
Trouble looked at me and shook her head.
"Girls are so strange," I shook my head in return.
My cat and me. Alone forever.
| William was sitting at his kitchen table enjoying a cup of piping hot coffee, with sugar and almond milk of course. As a cool breeze abruptly slipped under the crack of the window onto Will's face he thought, "Just where could that cat be?" It was around this time his cat, Poster, would come scratching back at the door after romping outside for a majority of the morning. He took another sip of coffee. Then another. And another. By the time he was finished he was almost worried. Where could Poster possibly be by now? William rose from his seat in a flash, frantically grabbed his coat and turned the front door handle. To his pleasant surprise, there Poster was, sitting down fur and all... but there was something in her mouth.
"Disgusting, the stupid thing brought me another mouse again." William thought.
But upon closer inspection, the mouse had dainty clear wings on its back, and pure blond hair on its head, and tiny hands and feet! In fact it wasn't a mouse at all, it was a fairy!
"What the fuck, you're a fairy!" he yelled.
Bending down to help the little creature escape the fangs of its vicious captor, the fairy responded, "Please, mister, save me." And just as William readied his hands to unhinge Poster's jaw, the cat ferociously clamped down, plunging its teeth into the body of the fairy, staining them a deep, unforgettable shade of red. The fairy's ear-splitting scream deeply pierced William's soul, and from that day on he was a different man. | |
[WP] Your cat normally brings you dead mice or birds. This time, he's brought you a live fairy. | "Hey there kitt, wha cha got there?” I asked absent mindedly as I saw Kitt bound through the living room while I busied myself with the dishes.
"Reowr" Said Kitt as he sat himself dapperly at the Kitchen doorway after plopping a thoroughly drooled and disheveled creature upon the linolium.
"Aww Kitt, what is it this time?" I hunched down and reached toward the masticated offering before jerking my hand back in disbelief. "WOAH!" I reflexively exclaimed as the tiny person Kitt had brought in coughed and stirred with an equally tiny voice.
"Uggggghhh!" she moaned, like an intoxicated barfly that had just puked in her uber pool.
"Uhhh, I...uhhh...are, are you ok?" God I'm an idiot.
"Ehhhhhh! Do I look OK to you?! Freakin' Smilodon comes in here and starts tearing you apart I'm gonna ask if you're OK." The diminutive woman picked herself up off the ground with a surprising vigor as she tried desperately to groom her wings back from the crumpled balls the cat had chewed them into. Kitt seemed to be more curious with his newfound plaything and batted gingerly at her quivering bits. Incensed by Kitt's continued persistence she rubbed her skin furiously before shoving a Handful of fairy dust into his face.
"Hey, now that was uncalled for, I was just trying to make sure you weren't a dangly." Said Kitt.
"holy shit! You can talk?!"
"Holy shit, YOU can talk? I mean, I figured you guys must be pretty smart, what with the food everyday and everything, but talking? I just never figured you guys had it in you!"
"Great, now it's the incredible journey and we've all connected and learned something about ourselves so since I've done such a great job, why don't I just head out? I mean, a talking cat!? That doesn't sound like a situation that would need any wishes, right?"
"Woah, woah, woah, there are wishes?" Kitt plopped a paw in front of the fairy as she tried to casually stroll out the door.
"Ugh. Fine, what do you guys want? Just...please don't be gross.
"Really? I'd figure most people would ask for money."
"Or food" chimed Kitt
"You'd think right? But no, everyone has to be big old pervs. I mean, I guess I can kinda understand: its sort of a once in a lifetime sort of experience but when you get to my age it's not so once in a lifetime anymore."
"Hence the food." Said Kitt.
"Gross."
"You're telling me, I'm still sticky from the last one."
"Ugh! You could a warned me!" Said Kitt as he brushed his tongue with his paw.
"Serves you right Mr. I-have-to-chase-everything-that-moves."
"I can't help it! It's an instinct I choose not to ignore!'
"You know, I'm kinda surprised that this isn't something that is more commonly know about."
"How do you know?"
"What, this happens all the time? How come I've never heard about it?"
"Ever been blackmailed by a supernatural being?"
"Wow, people really must be perverts."
"At least it makes keeping their mouths shut about it easier. You on the other hand are a problem."
"What, am I gonna rat you out to all the people you already gave handies to? Please, I think your little secret can open more doors for me than any wish could."
"Oh really? I bet you have a good memory, at least you're gonna need it when I-FAIRY DUST!"
"Oh god damn-"*piff* went the little cloud of glittery dust right into my face. "Ow, that stuff stings, Jezus you little shit!"
"I don't believe it! What's your ancestry?"
"What? I dunno, I'm a mongrel." I said as I ran my eyes under the water.
"Ditto." Said kitt.
"Great, you have a one in a million mutation that makes you immune."
"Soooo...what do we do now?"
"Well, since the dust doesn't work on you, I couldn't even give you a wish if I wanted to."
"Ahem" said Kitt
"Alright, fine, what do you want?"
"Uhh, I think you know: food."
"Uh-uh, no. That little bastard has already had two cans today, he doesn't need it."
"He's right, I really don't. I was planning on just puking it out into his shoe later to be honest."
"Great, so you guys don't need anything? Am I free to go?"
"I mean, sure, but you could also kick it here if you want. I may not be the best conversation but I'm sure it beats wanking weebs off on a regular basis."
"Hmmm, an interesting proposition. So you're saying I can hide out here and not have to degrade myself in exchange for having to put up with your verbal bullshit on a regular basis?"
"If you could kick down a few bucks for rent that could also help."
"And anytime you're ready with that food would be good."
"I can already tell this was a good idea." | William was sitting at his kitchen table enjoying a cup of piping hot coffee, with sugar and almond milk of course. As a cool breeze abruptly slipped under the crack of the window onto Will's face he thought, "Just where could that cat be?" It was around this time his cat, Poster, would come scratching back at the door after romping outside for a majority of the morning. He took another sip of coffee. Then another. And another. By the time he was finished he was almost worried. Where could Poster possibly be by now? William rose from his seat in a flash, frantically grabbed his coat and turned the front door handle. To his pleasant surprise, there Poster was, sitting down fur and all... but there was something in her mouth.
"Disgusting, the stupid thing brought me another mouse again." William thought.
But upon closer inspection, the mouse had dainty clear wings on its back, and pure blond hair on its head, and tiny hands and feet! In fact it wasn't a mouse at all, it was a fairy!
"What the fuck, you're a fairy!" he yelled.
Bending down to help the little creature escape the fangs of its vicious captor, the fairy responded, "Please, mister, save me." And just as William readied his hands to unhinge Poster's jaw, the cat ferociously clamped down, plunging its teeth into the body of the fairy, staining them a deep, unforgettable shade of red. The fairy's ear-splitting scream deeply pierced William's soul, and from that day on he was a different man. | |
[WP] Your cat normally brings you dead mice or birds. This time, he's brought you a live fairy. | "Lemme out, ya cheesehead, I ain't got time for dis."
I was baffled at the thing zipping around in my mason jar. I was more baffled that it was a little man with a thick Philly accent. It was wearing a tiny polo shirt and office pants, and if it weren't for the fact it was four inches big and had wings, it looked like a guy who owned a seedy pizzeria.
"What the hell are you?", I asked as I looked closer at the jar.
"I'm late on my quota is what I am, and if you don't lemme out, people'll be askin the same thing about your face!" The thing's voice seemed almost magnified. It zipped back to one end of the jar and slammed full force into the other. The jar barely moved.
Yoru, my cat, was staring at it intently with wide green eyes. It pawed at the jar, and accidentally knocked it over.
"Oh, jeez, put a leash on that thing, silk suits aren't cheap, ya know?" The dazed thing said while it rolled around on the table.
I put Yoru away and set the jar upright. Seeing as it looked harmless enough, and I thought terrorizing it would be bad for me in the long run, I let it out.
"Glad to see you've come to your senses." The little man floated out of the jar and brushed off his suit. A tiny beeping noise emanated from his pocket.
"Ah shit, I missed it...." The little man threw down his suitcase and it's contents spilled out. There were white leaves with little glowing green inscriptions, something that looked like a beetle antennae with a viscous, red, liquid at the end, and a human tooth with the letter A written on it. There was also a framed picture of a pretty, young blonde woman with mandibles on her neck. I had no idea how it fit inside the tiny little suitcase, but it managed. I saw the suitcase's interior had the words "Daniel Schwartz, Fairy Wish Inc." written in gold ink.
"Wait, you're a fairy?", I asked stupidly.
"If the wings and height impediment didn't give it away, I don't know what will", said the fairy man while buzzing around and "texting" on what I thought was a phone, but it just turns out to be a snail shell with etchings on the side.
"So, you grant wishes, huh?" As I picked up the suitcase and looked into the interior. The fairy snatched it away with surprising strength, looked at me with a stony expression, then sighed.
"Alright, I guess I have to do this." said the fairy man.
The leaves suddenly floated and wove around the tabletop, eventually forming a circle face-level to me. A green glow sparked in the middle of the halo, and ghostly image of a fairy with a toothy grin doing a thumbs-up appeared. Old-timey elevator music started to emanate from the halo, and the fairy, or Daniel as the suitcase said, cleared his throat and read in an overly chipper voice the letters on the screen.
"Hello, I am a fairy from Fairy Wish Inc.! You appear to have captured me by some means, and as the corporation rules state, a fairy must grant one wish within its power to the kidnapper-"
"Makes it sound worse than it is....", I whispered
"-AS LONG as it does not interfere with any rules." Daniel looked at me angrily and said, "Lemme finish the thing first, then make your suggestions."
He took a deep breath and continued.
"If a wish is not made 24 hours from capture, the fairy is whisked back to his office and is given stern talking to and a possible demotion. We here at Fairy Wish Inc. want nothing but the best of the best. We appreciate you for listening to this convenient guide. Have a great wish! The papers then dispersed and stacked neatly back inside the case.
"So, there ya have it, whaddya want?", said Daniel as he closed his suitcase shut.
"So any wish? Is this like a Monkey's Paw thing, or like an Aladdin thing?" I asked.
"Aladdin, but a bit more relaxed. As an A-rank fairy, I can hurt and maim certain people or increase dopamine levels of women who meet you. No dead people though, that's Charon's schtick."
"Wait, who?"
"None of your business. Now, I give you one wish, and I'll grant it. The only rules are no messing with life, so no resurrection, immortality or invincibility bullshit, no wishing harm on other fairies, though I doubt you know anyone besides me, no cash values exceeding the cost of $50,000, and no superpowers." He said quickly but clearly. He picked up the beetle antennae and said, "Jesus, I gotta get a new staff."
I thought to myself. Any wish, huh? I looked around my apartment. I had a decent life. While I was a bit of an otaku, I still had a lot of good friends, so no go on the whole dopamine thing. It feels too rapy, anyway. I work freelance as an electrical engineer and earn enough for my needs and hobbies. I love working and making my own dough, so I don't wanna cheat. I guess what I need in life is to see new things. I've been to plenty of places for jobs, so maybe new places isn't the wish I want. No, what I want are new experiences. I'm content, but I kinda want more flashiness in my life. Yeah, no, that'll work.
I turned around and saw Yoru hissing at Daniel. Daniel was now safely floating high up and writing something with his staff on my ceiling fan.
"Hey, I have a wish!", I said.
"Finally kid, I thought I was gonna be demoted." He stretched his arms and said, "So what'll it be, fella?"
I took a deep breath and said, "I wanna get a part-time job as a fairy."
"Your wish has be- wait, what?", Daniel said with his mouth slightly agape.
"I wanna be a fairy part-time." I said matter-of-factually.
Suddenly, his shellphone rang and an excited voice was coming from it. The papers also spilled out of his case and made several tiny halos. It was just a ramble of noise, and Yoru was swatting away at any papers within reach.
"Jesus kid, look at the fuss you've made." Daniel shook his head, but was actually smiling a bit. He waved his staff and everything went quiet.
"Alright, I can do that. We haven't had a new hire from you guys in years, and frankly, I'm glad. You guys are way too used to messing other people over...."
He looked me up and down.
"But I think you're a nice kid, so....." He cracked his knuckles, wrote something on them, then punched my forehead. It felt like being pelted with a tennis ball,
"OUCH", was all I said as my body and clothes slowly shrunk. I felt a stinging sensation on my back. Wings, huh?
Finally, I dropped to the floor. Yoru was meowing pretty loudly and was pawing me excitedly. Luckily, she wasn't trying to eat me.
"Congratulations kid, you're a D-class fairy now." Daniel said as a paper halo formed around him. Before the papers engulfed him completely, he said "YOU'RE NOT GETTING PAID FOR THIS, YOU KNOW THAT?!" then he vanished.
It took me a a bit of falling to the carpet over and over again, but I got the hang of flying pretty quick. I flew in front of my mirror and saw that I had pink butterfly wings.
"Well, I did say I wanted flashiness."
"That'll just let ya get caught all the time by little kids." a female voice suddenly said beside me.
I yelled and dropped onto my countertop. The voice came from someone who actually did look more like a classical fairy, other than the leaf green business attire.
"Hi, I'm Tina" she said. "I'll be your boss."
- End | William was sitting at his kitchen table enjoying a cup of piping hot coffee, with sugar and almond milk of course. As a cool breeze abruptly slipped under the crack of the window onto Will's face he thought, "Just where could that cat be?" It was around this time his cat, Poster, would come scratching back at the door after romping outside for a majority of the morning. He took another sip of coffee. Then another. And another. By the time he was finished he was almost worried. Where could Poster possibly be by now? William rose from his seat in a flash, frantically grabbed his coat and turned the front door handle. To his pleasant surprise, there Poster was, sitting down fur and all... but there was something in her mouth.
"Disgusting, the stupid thing brought me another mouse again." William thought.
But upon closer inspection, the mouse had dainty clear wings on its back, and pure blond hair on its head, and tiny hands and feet! In fact it wasn't a mouse at all, it was a fairy!
"What the fuck, you're a fairy!" he yelled.
Bending down to help the little creature escape the fangs of its vicious captor, the fairy responded, "Please, mister, save me." And just as William readied his hands to unhinge Poster's jaw, the cat ferociously clamped down, plunging its teeth into the body of the fairy, staining them a deep, unforgettable shade of red. The fairy's ear-splitting scream deeply pierced William's soul, and from that day on he was a different man. | |
[WP] Your cat normally brings you dead mice or birds. This time, he's brought you a live fairy. | Cats are curious animals; my cat especially so.
Trouble is her name; she is such a bubbly cat.
After my girlfriend dumped me, Trouble tried to cheer me up.
First she brought me dead mice, then she brought me dead birds. I preferred birds than mice, the meats are more tender and tasty when fried.
You see, I was too depressed to go grocery shopping. Thanks to Trouble, I didn't have to starve. I cooked the birds and mice she brought me and we shared the meals together. Two lonely souls, two hungry mouths.
One day she brought me a fairy. It was a curious creature: a tiny girl in a blue dress, with wings like dragon fly. Her face was quite pretty, more pretty than the girl who left me.
"What does this mean?" I asked Trouble. "She hardly have any meat on her. Better bring me more mice, they make better dinner than this scrawny creature."
"How dare you call me a scrawny creature!" the fairy protested, her voice like wind chime in rain.
"You can talk?" I frowned. "I don't like my dinner talking."
"I am not a dinner," she folded her arms angrily. "I am Rainy, the Fairy of Lost Love. Your cat found me in the Tree of Broken Love. She showed me your broken heart and told me your sad story..."
"Blah blah blah," I said impatiently. "Are you going to dribble on and on? I am hungry, I don't have all day..."
She sighed, "I know you are sad. I have what you need..."
"Food?"
She shook her head.
"Dessert?"
She shook her head again. "Closed your eyes," she said, quietly and shyly.
I closed my eyes.
She clapped her hands and suddenly when I opened my eyes again, I saw a beautiful girl. She looked like Rainy, but taller, and with boobs.
She sat next to me and put her hands on mine. Her hands were soft, like sweet puddings.
"I too have lost my love," she said sadly. "Ever since, I have been looking for a true love that will never break my heart..."
"I don't mean to be rude, but I haven't eaten all day. Is your story going to be long?" I asked with my greatest patience.
She frowned but said softly, "You say mean things only because you are sad. I knew because I too had been sad. Let me show you something..."
She opened her hands and on her palms laid a large rose petal broken in half. "This is my broken heart. To the one who can make it whole..."
"For me?"
"Yes for you," she smiled, like morning dew.
I took the petal and put in in my mouth, chewed it for a few seconds. It wasn't very tasty, so I spit it out.
"You!" she looked at me incredulously, "No wonder she left you!"
With a puff of smoke, she transformed back to a fairy and flied into the starry night sky.
Trouble looked at me and shook her head.
"Girls are so strange," I shook my head in return.
My cat and me. Alone forever.
| "Mr. Teefies! Ugh, what the hell is that?" Teefies dropped his precious gift and backed up, looking up at me in the special way that only he can.
"What the shit man, another..." Uh oh, another *what*? This wasn't a bird. This wasn't a squirrel, or a mouse.
Four translucent wings fluttered, seemingly out of sync, before finding a balance and rhythm. I stood transfixed as a small body, a small humanoid body, fluttered and rose before me. Teefies crouched, eyes wide.
"Are you the son of a bitch this foul beast reports to?" The small being hovered eye level to me, decrying, "That monster almost broke my legs and wings."
I was transfixed on the itty-bitty thing bzzzz-ing in front of me. "That's Mr. Teefies. He's my cat. He's a cat. He hunts and kills shit. You're not a bird." I was beside myself with wonder and amazement.
"Of course I'm not a bird, you dense bastard. I'm a fairy. I was *supposed* to show up at a birthday party, but your fucking cat changed my flight plans." To emphasize her point, the fairy put her tiny hands on her hips and glared at me.
I recalled all of the old Disney movies with the fairy sparkling stars over the Magic Kingdom and almost pissed myself with nostalgia. *Is this her? Her in real life? What the hell was her name?*
"Listen jackass, I need to get to Madrigail Jorgensen's birthday party right fucking now." Her little index finger was jutting out at me and she wore a scowl that would fill fifteen normal size faces.
I didn't like her attitude. Not one bit. She was spreading sprinkling brown shit-stains all over my otherwise great day.
"You're a terrible fairy! I regret having a crush on you as a kid. Mr. Teefies, attack!!"
Teefies isn't a command-attack cat, but when he's hungry, he'll attack anything with meat, wings, or fur.
Mr. Teefies made a leap worthy of the ages and deftly snatched the fairy.
Four satisfying crunches later I knew Madrigail would have a shitty birthday. Just like my last thirty-seven birthdays have been. | |
[WP] Your cat normally brings you dead mice or birds. This time, he's brought you a live fairy. | Cats are curious animals; my cat especially so.
Trouble is her name; she is such a bubbly cat.
After my girlfriend dumped me, Trouble tried to cheer me up.
First she brought me dead mice, then she brought me dead birds. I preferred birds than mice, the meats are more tender and tasty when fried.
You see, I was too depressed to go grocery shopping. Thanks to Trouble, I didn't have to starve. I cooked the birds and mice she brought me and we shared the meals together. Two lonely souls, two hungry mouths.
One day she brought me a fairy. It was a curious creature: a tiny girl in a blue dress, with wings like dragon fly. Her face was quite pretty, more pretty than the girl who left me.
"What does this mean?" I asked Trouble. "She hardly have any meat on her. Better bring me more mice, they make better dinner than this scrawny creature."
"How dare you call me a scrawny creature!" the fairy protested, her voice like wind chime in rain.
"You can talk?" I frowned. "I don't like my dinner talking."
"I am not a dinner," she folded her arms angrily. "I am Rainy, the Fairy of Lost Love. Your cat found me in the Tree of Broken Love. She showed me your broken heart and told me your sad story..."
"Blah blah blah," I said impatiently. "Are you going to dribble on and on? I am hungry, I don't have all day..."
She sighed, "I know you are sad. I have what you need..."
"Food?"
She shook her head.
"Dessert?"
She shook her head again. "Closed your eyes," she said, quietly and shyly.
I closed my eyes.
She clapped her hands and suddenly when I opened my eyes again, I saw a beautiful girl. She looked like Rainy, but taller, and with boobs.
She sat next to me and put her hands on mine. Her hands were soft, like sweet puddings.
"I too have lost my love," she said sadly. "Ever since, I have been looking for a true love that will never break my heart..."
"I don't mean to be rude, but I haven't eaten all day. Is your story going to be long?" I asked with my greatest patience.
She frowned but said softly, "You say mean things only because you are sad. I knew because I too had been sad. Let me show you something..."
She opened her hands and on her palms laid a large rose petal broken in half. "This is my broken heart. To the one who can make it whole..."
"For me?"
"Yes for you," she smiled, like morning dew.
I took the petal and put in in my mouth, chewed it for a few seconds. It wasn't very tasty, so I spit it out.
"You!" she looked at me incredulously, "No wonder she left you!"
With a puff of smoke, she transformed back to a fairy and flied into the starry night sky.
Trouble looked at me and shook her head.
"Girls are so strange," I shook my head in return.
My cat and me. Alone forever.
| 'Lord Grey, it really is you' - the fairy voice was filled with joice, even when she is hanging from Lourantine's mouth.
Lourantine is a fine cat, if we ignore the fact she often bring me dead mice or birds, but still she get rid of the pests around so I keep her to make sure no mice gonna chew my precious books. Her habits from the old time when she was homeless is almost gone, the only big issues is she tends to get into fight with dogs and bringing me dead animals. But this time, she bring me a god damn fairy. And of all fairy the most annoying one of them all, Cebredine. Rufus was supposed to get rid of unwanted guesses, br it fairy or nymphs. But since Lourantine and Rufus have the typical cat-dog relationship so she snuck the fairy in when Rufus wasn't around thinking I would eat it after I throw away all the mice and birds.
'No. And you are not welcomed here.' I pick her up from Lourantine's mouth, put her into an empty bottle and sealed it. I can not let her return and let everybody know where I am after all the effort, brainwashing magic don't work too well on her because of her carefree nature, letting her go outside and Lourantine may eat her like those mice I throw away. So I guess the only choice is to keep her in the bottle until I find a way to deal with the situation. Probably moving to another place again.
Lourantine sits there, waiting for my compliment and head rub. Unlike Rufus she is just an animal, she don't understand what I am, so she think that I like her 'gift' this time. As I rub her head, Rufus enter the room, switchs to his humanoid form and ask:
'What are we gonna do about Ceb? We can't just keep her here for long, Liz will organise search party, probably gonna ask the hooman to help. We need to move. And get rid of that cat. She bring nothing but trouble.'
'Yes I know. But we just finished setting up wards here, it needs time to be undone, else they can not find Ceb after we leave. Maybe I should give Lou a youkai soul. She is useful and just become part of the family. Either way, we are keeping her.'
'Rufus why are you so mean. The cat is so pretty and you want to throw her away? How heartless are you? - Ceb said with an annoying tone.
'Maybe I should just feed you to the cat. It love bird and mice after all' - Rufus pick up the bottle as he say.
'Lord Grey help me. Rufus is picking on me. Rufus is a meanie. Big meanie.'
'If you both don't stop I'm gonna feed you both to Lou. And I mean it. And we are keeping Lou. No discussion. And keep watch on Ceb ok Rufus? I'm gonna give Lou a youkai soul then we gonna move out. Perhaps she will causes less trouble afterwards.'
'She better be. Else I will feed Ceb to her and let Liz do whatever she want.'
'Okay then, Im gonna head to the basement then. Ah, and what kind of souls should I use, a shapes shifter or just some cat monsters?'
'Shapes shifter. I had had enough with cat and their shenanigans. At least a shapes shifter will be less annoying.'
'Well then' - I pick Lou up and head to the basement - 'Let's get the party start.' | |
[WP] Your cat normally brings you dead mice or birds. This time, he's brought you a live fairy. | "Hey there kitt, wha cha got there?” I asked absent mindedly as I saw Kitt bound through the living room while I busied myself with the dishes.
"Reowr" Said Kitt as he sat himself dapperly at the Kitchen doorway after plopping a thoroughly drooled and disheveled creature upon the linolium.
"Aww Kitt, what is it this time?" I hunched down and reached toward the masticated offering before jerking my hand back in disbelief. "WOAH!" I reflexively exclaimed as the tiny person Kitt had brought in coughed and stirred with an equally tiny voice.
"Uggggghhh!" she moaned, like an intoxicated barfly that had just puked in her uber pool.
"Uhhh, I...uhhh...are, are you ok?" God I'm an idiot.
"Ehhhhhh! Do I look OK to you?! Freakin' Smilodon comes in here and starts tearing you apart I'm gonna ask if you're OK." The diminutive woman picked herself up off the ground with a surprising vigor as she tried desperately to groom her wings back from the crumpled balls the cat had chewed them into. Kitt seemed to be more curious with his newfound plaything and batted gingerly at her quivering bits. Incensed by Kitt's continued persistence she rubbed her skin furiously before shoving a Handful of fairy dust into his face.
"Hey, now that was uncalled for, I was just trying to make sure you weren't a dangly." Said Kitt.
"holy shit! You can talk?!"
"Holy shit, YOU can talk? I mean, I figured you guys must be pretty smart, what with the food everyday and everything, but talking? I just never figured you guys had it in you!"
"Great, now it's the incredible journey and we've all connected and learned something about ourselves so since I've done such a great job, why don't I just head out? I mean, a talking cat!? That doesn't sound like a situation that would need any wishes, right?"
"Woah, woah, woah, there are wishes?" Kitt plopped a paw in front of the fairy as she tried to casually stroll out the door.
"Ugh. Fine, what do you guys want? Just...please don't be gross.
"Really? I'd figure most people would ask for money."
"Or food" chimed Kitt
"You'd think right? But no, everyone has to be big old pervs. I mean, I guess I can kinda understand: its sort of a once in a lifetime sort of experience but when you get to my age it's not so once in a lifetime anymore."
"Hence the food." Said Kitt.
"Gross."
"You're telling me, I'm still sticky from the last one."
"Ugh! You could a warned me!" Said Kitt as he brushed his tongue with his paw.
"Serves you right Mr. I-have-to-chase-everything-that-moves."
"I can't help it! It's an instinct I choose not to ignore!'
"You know, I'm kinda surprised that this isn't something that is more commonly know about."
"How do you know?"
"What, this happens all the time? How come I've never heard about it?"
"Ever been blackmailed by a supernatural being?"
"Wow, people really must be perverts."
"At least it makes keeping their mouths shut about it easier. You on the other hand are a problem."
"What, am I gonna rat you out to all the people you already gave handies to? Please, I think your little secret can open more doors for me than any wish could."
"Oh really? I bet you have a good memory, at least you're gonna need it when I-FAIRY DUST!"
"Oh god damn-"*piff* went the little cloud of glittery dust right into my face. "Ow, that stuff stings, Jezus you little shit!"
"I don't believe it! What's your ancestry?"
"What? I dunno, I'm a mongrel." I said as I ran my eyes under the water.
"Ditto." Said kitt.
"Great, you have a one in a million mutation that makes you immune."
"Soooo...what do we do now?"
"Well, since the dust doesn't work on you, I couldn't even give you a wish if I wanted to."
"Ahem" said Kitt
"Alright, fine, what do you want?"
"Uhh, I think you know: food."
"Uh-uh, no. That little bastard has already had two cans today, he doesn't need it."
"He's right, I really don't. I was planning on just puking it out into his shoe later to be honest."
"Great, so you guys don't need anything? Am I free to go?"
"I mean, sure, but you could also kick it here if you want. I may not be the best conversation but I'm sure it beats wanking weebs off on a regular basis."
"Hmmm, an interesting proposition. So you're saying I can hide out here and not have to degrade myself in exchange for having to put up with your verbal bullshit on a regular basis?"
"If you could kick down a few bucks for rent that could also help."
"And anytime you're ready with that food would be good."
"I can already tell this was a good idea." | 'Lord Grey, it really is you' - the fairy voice was filled with joice, even when she is hanging from Lourantine's mouth.
Lourantine is a fine cat, if we ignore the fact she often bring me dead mice or birds, but still she get rid of the pests around so I keep her to make sure no mice gonna chew my precious books. Her habits from the old time when she was homeless is almost gone, the only big issues is she tends to get into fight with dogs and bringing me dead animals. But this time, she bring me a god damn fairy. And of all fairy the most annoying one of them all, Cebredine. Rufus was supposed to get rid of unwanted guesses, br it fairy or nymphs. But since Lourantine and Rufus have the typical cat-dog relationship so she snuck the fairy in when Rufus wasn't around thinking I would eat it after I throw away all the mice and birds.
'No. And you are not welcomed here.' I pick her up from Lourantine's mouth, put her into an empty bottle and sealed it. I can not let her return and let everybody know where I am after all the effort, brainwashing magic don't work too well on her because of her carefree nature, letting her go outside and Lourantine may eat her like those mice I throw away. So I guess the only choice is to keep her in the bottle until I find a way to deal with the situation. Probably moving to another place again.
Lourantine sits there, waiting for my compliment and head rub. Unlike Rufus she is just an animal, she don't understand what I am, so she think that I like her 'gift' this time. As I rub her head, Rufus enter the room, switchs to his humanoid form and ask:
'What are we gonna do about Ceb? We can't just keep her here for long, Liz will organise search party, probably gonna ask the hooman to help. We need to move. And get rid of that cat. She bring nothing but trouble.'
'Yes I know. But we just finished setting up wards here, it needs time to be undone, else they can not find Ceb after we leave. Maybe I should give Lou a youkai soul. She is useful and just become part of the family. Either way, we are keeping her.'
'Rufus why are you so mean. The cat is so pretty and you want to throw her away? How heartless are you? - Ceb said with an annoying tone.
'Maybe I should just feed you to the cat. It love bird and mice after all' - Rufus pick up the bottle as he say.
'Lord Grey help me. Rufus is picking on me. Rufus is a meanie. Big meanie.'
'If you both don't stop I'm gonna feed you both to Lou. And I mean it. And we are keeping Lou. No discussion. And keep watch on Ceb ok Rufus? I'm gonna give Lou a youkai soul then we gonna move out. Perhaps she will causes less trouble afterwards.'
'She better be. Else I will feed Ceb to her and let Liz do whatever she want.'
'Okay then, Im gonna head to the basement then. Ah, and what kind of souls should I use, a shapes shifter or just some cat monsters?'
'Shapes shifter. I had had enough with cat and their shenanigans. At least a shapes shifter will be less annoying.'
'Well then' - I pick Lou up and head to the basement - 'Let's get the party start.' | |
[WP] Your cat normally brings you dead mice or birds. This time, he's brought you a live fairy. | Cats are curious animals; my cat especially so.
Trouble is her name; she is such a bubbly cat.
After my girlfriend dumped me, Trouble tried to cheer me up.
First she brought me dead mice, then she brought me dead birds. I preferred birds than mice, the meats are more tender and tasty when fried.
You see, I was too depressed to go grocery shopping. Thanks to Trouble, I didn't have to starve. I cooked the birds and mice she brought me and we shared the meals together. Two lonely souls, two hungry mouths.
One day she brought me a fairy. It was a curious creature: a tiny girl in a blue dress, with wings like dragon fly. Her face was quite pretty, more pretty than the girl who left me.
"What does this mean?" I asked Trouble. "She hardly have any meat on her. Better bring me more mice, they make better dinner than this scrawny creature."
"How dare you call me a scrawny creature!" the fairy protested, her voice like wind chime in rain.
"You can talk?" I frowned. "I don't like my dinner talking."
"I am not a dinner," she folded her arms angrily. "I am Rainy, the Fairy of Lost Love. Your cat found me in the Tree of Broken Love. She showed me your broken heart and told me your sad story..."
"Blah blah blah," I said impatiently. "Are you going to dribble on and on? I am hungry, I don't have all day..."
She sighed, "I know you are sad. I have what you need..."
"Food?"
She shook her head.
"Dessert?"
She shook her head again. "Closed your eyes," she said, quietly and shyly.
I closed my eyes.
She clapped her hands and suddenly when I opened my eyes again, I saw a beautiful girl. She looked like Rainy, but taller, and with boobs.
She sat next to me and put her hands on mine. Her hands were soft, like sweet puddings.
"I too have lost my love," she said sadly. "Ever since, I have been looking for a true love that will never break my heart..."
"I don't mean to be rude, but I haven't eaten all day. Is your story going to be long?" I asked with my greatest patience.
She frowned but said softly, "You say mean things only because you are sad. I knew because I too had been sad. Let me show you something..."
She opened her hands and on her palms laid a large rose petal broken in half. "This is my broken heart. To the one who can make it whole..."
"For me?"
"Yes for you," she smiled, like morning dew.
I took the petal and put in in my mouth, chewed it for a few seconds. It wasn't very tasty, so I spit it out.
"You!" she looked at me incredulously, "No wonder she left you!"
With a puff of smoke, she transformed back to a fairy and flied into the starry night sky.
Trouble looked at me and shook her head.
"Girls are so strange," I shook my head in return.
My cat and me. Alone forever.
| "P-pp-please save me!" Yelled the fairy from within the jaws of Fluffykins.
My chance, to redefine my life... the moment I've wanted, needed.
"Fluffykins. Kill."
On command the jaws shut, not a single whisper is heard from the fairy, Fluffkins swallows whole, I can see the body sliding down his throat.
"Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?" I playful question Fluffykins before going about my day. | |
[WP] Your cat normally brings you dead mice or birds. This time, he's brought you a live fairy. | "Lemme out, ya cheesehead, I ain't got time for dis."
I was baffled at the thing zipping around in my mason jar. I was more baffled that it was a little man with a thick Philly accent. It was wearing a tiny polo shirt and office pants, and if it weren't for the fact it was four inches big and had wings, it looked like a guy who owned a seedy pizzeria.
"What the hell are you?", I asked as I looked closer at the jar.
"I'm late on my quota is what I am, and if you don't lemme out, people'll be askin the same thing about your face!" The thing's voice seemed almost magnified. It zipped back to one end of the jar and slammed full force into the other. The jar barely moved.
Yoru, my cat, was staring at it intently with wide green eyes. It pawed at the jar, and accidentally knocked it over.
"Oh, jeez, put a leash on that thing, silk suits aren't cheap, ya know?" The dazed thing said while it rolled around on the table.
I put Yoru away and set the jar upright. Seeing as it looked harmless enough, and I thought terrorizing it would be bad for me in the long run, I let it out.
"Glad to see you've come to your senses." The little man floated out of the jar and brushed off his suit. A tiny beeping noise emanated from his pocket.
"Ah shit, I missed it...." The little man threw down his suitcase and it's contents spilled out. There were white leaves with little glowing green inscriptions, something that looked like a beetle antennae with a viscous, red, liquid at the end, and a human tooth with the letter A written on it. There was also a framed picture of a pretty, young blonde woman with mandibles on her neck. I had no idea how it fit inside the tiny little suitcase, but it managed. I saw the suitcase's interior had the words "Daniel Schwartz, Fairy Wish Inc." written in gold ink.
"Wait, you're a fairy?", I asked stupidly.
"If the wings and height impediment didn't give it away, I don't know what will", said the fairy man while buzzing around and "texting" on what I thought was a phone, but it just turns out to be a snail shell with etchings on the side.
"So, you grant wishes, huh?" As I picked up the suitcase and looked into the interior. The fairy snatched it away with surprising strength, looked at me with a stony expression, then sighed.
"Alright, I guess I have to do this." said the fairy man.
The leaves suddenly floated and wove around the tabletop, eventually forming a circle face-level to me. A green glow sparked in the middle of the halo, and ghostly image of a fairy with a toothy grin doing a thumbs-up appeared. Old-timey elevator music started to emanate from the halo, and the fairy, or Daniel as the suitcase said, cleared his throat and read in an overly chipper voice the letters on the screen.
"Hello, I am a fairy from Fairy Wish Inc.! You appear to have captured me by some means, and as the corporation rules state, a fairy must grant one wish within its power to the kidnapper-"
"Makes it sound worse than it is....", I whispered
"-AS LONG as it does not interfere with any rules." Daniel looked at me angrily and said, "Lemme finish the thing first, then make your suggestions."
He took a deep breath and continued.
"If a wish is not made 24 hours from capture, the fairy is whisked back to his office and is given stern talking to and a possible demotion. We here at Fairy Wish Inc. want nothing but the best of the best. We appreciate you for listening to this convenient guide. Have a great wish! The papers then dispersed and stacked neatly back inside the case.
"So, there ya have it, whaddya want?", said Daniel as he closed his suitcase shut.
"So any wish? Is this like a Monkey's Paw thing, or like an Aladdin thing?" I asked.
"Aladdin, but a bit more relaxed. As an A-rank fairy, I can hurt and maim certain people or increase dopamine levels of women who meet you. No dead people though, that's Charon's schtick."
"Wait, who?"
"None of your business. Now, I give you one wish, and I'll grant it. The only rules are no messing with life, so no resurrection, immortality or invincibility bullshit, no wishing harm on other fairies, though I doubt you know anyone besides me, no cash values exceeding the cost of $50,000, and no superpowers." He said quickly but clearly. He picked up the beetle antennae and said, "Jesus, I gotta get a new staff."
I thought to myself. Any wish, huh? I looked around my apartment. I had a decent life. While I was a bit of an otaku, I still had a lot of good friends, so no go on the whole dopamine thing. It feels too rapy, anyway. I work freelance as an electrical engineer and earn enough for my needs and hobbies. I love working and making my own dough, so I don't wanna cheat. I guess what I need in life is to see new things. I've been to plenty of places for jobs, so maybe new places isn't the wish I want. No, what I want are new experiences. I'm content, but I kinda want more flashiness in my life. Yeah, no, that'll work.
I turned around and saw Yoru hissing at Daniel. Daniel was now safely floating high up and writing something with his staff on my ceiling fan.
"Hey, I have a wish!", I said.
"Finally kid, I thought I was gonna be demoted." He stretched his arms and said, "So what'll it be, fella?"
I took a deep breath and said, "I wanna get a part-time job as a fairy."
"Your wish has be- wait, what?", Daniel said with his mouth slightly agape.
"I wanna be a fairy part-time." I said matter-of-factually.
Suddenly, his shellphone rang and an excited voice was coming from it. The papers also spilled out of his case and made several tiny halos. It was just a ramble of noise, and Yoru was swatting away at any papers within reach.
"Jesus kid, look at the fuss you've made." Daniel shook his head, but was actually smiling a bit. He waved his staff and everything went quiet.
"Alright, I can do that. We haven't had a new hire from you guys in years, and frankly, I'm glad. You guys are way too used to messing other people over...."
He looked me up and down.
"But I think you're a nice kid, so....." He cracked his knuckles, wrote something on them, then punched my forehead. It felt like being pelted with a tennis ball,
"OUCH", was all I said as my body and clothes slowly shrunk. I felt a stinging sensation on my back. Wings, huh?
Finally, I dropped to the floor. Yoru was meowing pretty loudly and was pawing me excitedly. Luckily, she wasn't trying to eat me.
"Congratulations kid, you're a D-class fairy now." Daniel said as a paper halo formed around him. Before the papers engulfed him completely, he said "YOU'RE NOT GETTING PAID FOR THIS, YOU KNOW THAT?!" then he vanished.
It took me a a bit of falling to the carpet over and over again, but I got the hang of flying pretty quick. I flew in front of my mirror and saw that I had pink butterfly wings.
"Well, I did say I wanted flashiness."
"That'll just let ya get caught all the time by little kids." a female voice suddenly said beside me.
I yelled and dropped onto my countertop. The voice came from someone who actually did look more like a classical fairy, other than the leaf green business attire.
"Hi, I'm Tina" she said. "I'll be your boss."
- End | But the fairy did not speak, it meowed in thanks.
I scratch Toonces on the head and he scampers off into the living room, proud of what he's done.
"Hey, thanks kiddo. Real work of art that cat. Probably shits in the mailbox and doesn't even say thanks," says the fairy. "Yeah, I'm trilingual. Toonces says to lay off the slave name and call him Murderspark, by the way." It brushes off its wings, leaving sparkle-dust all over my floor. Guess I'll have to sweep that up.
I squat down and just as I'm about to pet the fairy on the head, it bats me away. Whatever it is, it's barely the size of my palm.
"Yo bucko, aight, look. I need a human for this and you're the only one in the whole damn country."
"Country?"
"Yeah, the fence borders. Over in Rainbloom across the picket they've been prepping for a war. Kid, I need that moxie you always show with that dinosaur fork."
It takes me a minute to realize what it's talking about.
"The rake?"
"Yeah! That big ol' big ol'. See here, we're in for a real street sweeper. Us in Petunia Farms all got our work cut out for us. You know up behind the tree?"
"I do."
"That's our capital, c'mon kiddo. I'll show yas the place. My name's Butterkiss, pleased to meetcha. What's yers?"
"Omar."
With my finger extended, we shake in agreement.
***
Their wings shimmer moonlight in the sky. They're like pale fireflies dancing in pairs when they hover in front of me. We go over the plan again.
"Okays, okays. So Omars here. He jumps the fence and just murks 'em like they're flies in a frogpond," says Butterkiss.
"Damn dude. We're really gonna murder these dudes? Like straight up for reals dude? I been seeing things since 'Swam" says Smoochykins.
"Aye laddies! Only way we're surviving the cruel kiss of winter," says Princess Bunbun.
I ready my rake. Tonight, we fight.
***
Fairies don't bleed to death, no, they glitter out. I swing my rake in Mr. Johnson's yard. They explode like glimmering fireworks, their remains flutter to the ground in glorious color. By the time I've slain my twentieth one, Princess Bunbun's nothing but bright dust on dark grass. Smoochykins is no more. Dead. And just as I'm about to take down twenty-one with a wide thwack, Butterkiss is knocked to the ground.
"Kid! You gotta get 'em for us. If you don't, there's no hope! My wife! My little munchkins!"
"So you are a dude."
"Don't project gender, wiseguy!" screams Butterkiss as it raises its hand to the air.
When I turn to try and save him, a rival fairy punches me in the face. I'm nose-deep in freshly cut grass and smelling summer dirt. The fairies gang up. One by one they surround me, tearing weakly at my skin. I realize, wait, they're not even a threat. Just as I'm about to stand-
"Murderspark!" screams Butterkiss.
Toonces jumps in and meows.
The fairies turn their head and bow. They... understand him. They gather around and sit. Mesmerized as he licks his paw and coughs up a hairball. They sing in a language I don't quite understand, worshiping their new feline god.
***
Mr. Johnson says I'm not allowed in his yard ever again, but that's okay; I let Murderspark out every other night so he can meow diplomacy for all of fairykind.
Sometimes though, he still brings me back a dead mouse. | |
[WP] Your cat normally brings you dead mice or birds. This time, he's brought you a live fairy. | "Lemme out, ya cheesehead, I ain't got time for dis."
I was baffled at the thing zipping around in my mason jar. I was more baffled that it was a little man with a thick Philly accent. It was wearing a tiny polo shirt and office pants, and if it weren't for the fact it was four inches big and had wings, it looked like a guy who owned a seedy pizzeria.
"What the hell are you?", I asked as I looked closer at the jar.
"I'm late on my quota is what I am, and if you don't lemme out, people'll be askin the same thing about your face!" The thing's voice seemed almost magnified. It zipped back to one end of the jar and slammed full force into the other. The jar barely moved.
Yoru, my cat, was staring at it intently with wide green eyes. It pawed at the jar, and accidentally knocked it over.
"Oh, jeez, put a leash on that thing, silk suits aren't cheap, ya know?" The dazed thing said while it rolled around on the table.
I put Yoru away and set the jar upright. Seeing as it looked harmless enough, and I thought terrorizing it would be bad for me in the long run, I let it out.
"Glad to see you've come to your senses." The little man floated out of the jar and brushed off his suit. A tiny beeping noise emanated from his pocket.
"Ah shit, I missed it...." The little man threw down his suitcase and it's contents spilled out. There were white leaves with little glowing green inscriptions, something that looked like a beetle antennae with a viscous, red, liquid at the end, and a human tooth with the letter A written on it. There was also a framed picture of a pretty, young blonde woman with mandibles on her neck. I had no idea how it fit inside the tiny little suitcase, but it managed. I saw the suitcase's interior had the words "Daniel Schwartz, Fairy Wish Inc." written in gold ink.
"Wait, you're a fairy?", I asked stupidly.
"If the wings and height impediment didn't give it away, I don't know what will", said the fairy man while buzzing around and "texting" on what I thought was a phone, but it just turns out to be a snail shell with etchings on the side.
"So, you grant wishes, huh?" As I picked up the suitcase and looked into the interior. The fairy snatched it away with surprising strength, looked at me with a stony expression, then sighed.
"Alright, I guess I have to do this." said the fairy man.
The leaves suddenly floated and wove around the tabletop, eventually forming a circle face-level to me. A green glow sparked in the middle of the halo, and ghostly image of a fairy with a toothy grin doing a thumbs-up appeared. Old-timey elevator music started to emanate from the halo, and the fairy, or Daniel as the suitcase said, cleared his throat and read in an overly chipper voice the letters on the screen.
"Hello, I am a fairy from Fairy Wish Inc.! You appear to have captured me by some means, and as the corporation rules state, a fairy must grant one wish within its power to the kidnapper-"
"Makes it sound worse than it is....", I whispered
"-AS LONG as it does not interfere with any rules." Daniel looked at me angrily and said, "Lemme finish the thing first, then make your suggestions."
He took a deep breath and continued.
"If a wish is not made 24 hours from capture, the fairy is whisked back to his office and is given stern talking to and a possible demotion. We here at Fairy Wish Inc. want nothing but the best of the best. We appreciate you for listening to this convenient guide. Have a great wish! The papers then dispersed and stacked neatly back inside the case.
"So, there ya have it, whaddya want?", said Daniel as he closed his suitcase shut.
"So any wish? Is this like a Monkey's Paw thing, or like an Aladdin thing?" I asked.
"Aladdin, but a bit more relaxed. As an A-rank fairy, I can hurt and maim certain people or increase dopamine levels of women who meet you. No dead people though, that's Charon's schtick."
"Wait, who?"
"None of your business. Now, I give you one wish, and I'll grant it. The only rules are no messing with life, so no resurrection, immortality or invincibility bullshit, no wishing harm on other fairies, though I doubt you know anyone besides me, no cash values exceeding the cost of $50,000, and no superpowers." He said quickly but clearly. He picked up the beetle antennae and said, "Jesus, I gotta get a new staff."
I thought to myself. Any wish, huh? I looked around my apartment. I had a decent life. While I was a bit of an otaku, I still had a lot of good friends, so no go on the whole dopamine thing. It feels too rapy, anyway. I work freelance as an electrical engineer and earn enough for my needs and hobbies. I love working and making my own dough, so I don't wanna cheat. I guess what I need in life is to see new things. I've been to plenty of places for jobs, so maybe new places isn't the wish I want. No, what I want are new experiences. I'm content, but I kinda want more flashiness in my life. Yeah, no, that'll work.
I turned around and saw Yoru hissing at Daniel. Daniel was now safely floating high up and writing something with his staff on my ceiling fan.
"Hey, I have a wish!", I said.
"Finally kid, I thought I was gonna be demoted." He stretched his arms and said, "So what'll it be, fella?"
I took a deep breath and said, "I wanna get a part-time job as a fairy."
"Your wish has be- wait, what?", Daniel said with his mouth slightly agape.
"I wanna be a fairy part-time." I said matter-of-factually.
Suddenly, his shellphone rang and an excited voice was coming from it. The papers also spilled out of his case and made several tiny halos. It was just a ramble of noise, and Yoru was swatting away at any papers within reach.
"Jesus kid, look at the fuss you've made." Daniel shook his head, but was actually smiling a bit. He waved his staff and everything went quiet.
"Alright, I can do that. We haven't had a new hire from you guys in years, and frankly, I'm glad. You guys are way too used to messing other people over...."
He looked me up and down.
"But I think you're a nice kid, so....." He cracked his knuckles, wrote something on them, then punched my forehead. It felt like being pelted with a tennis ball,
"OUCH", was all I said as my body and clothes slowly shrunk. I felt a stinging sensation on my back. Wings, huh?
Finally, I dropped to the floor. Yoru was meowing pretty loudly and was pawing me excitedly. Luckily, she wasn't trying to eat me.
"Congratulations kid, you're a D-class fairy now." Daniel said as a paper halo formed around him. Before the papers engulfed him completely, he said "YOU'RE NOT GETTING PAID FOR THIS, YOU KNOW THAT?!" then he vanished.
It took me a a bit of falling to the carpet over and over again, but I got the hang of flying pretty quick. I flew in front of my mirror and saw that I had pink butterfly wings.
"Well, I did say I wanted flashiness."
"That'll just let ya get caught all the time by little kids." a female voice suddenly said beside me.
I yelled and dropped onto my countertop. The voice came from someone who actually did look more like a classical fairy, other than the leaf green business attire.
"Hi, I'm Tina" she said. "I'll be your boss."
- End | "I'll grant you a wish," the fairy said. "Just let me go!"
I stared at Bowser, my cat, and wondered if I were dreaming. She had come to the back door. She scratched the door. I opened the door. There was a fairy in her mouth.
"I..." I didn't know what to say, and that is the honest truth! I was lost, confounded by the sense that I had fallen into one of those secret doors that exist only in cheap fantasy novels. "Look..."
"What do you want? Anything you want, I'll give it to you!"
"Don't listen to it," Bowser said, dropping the fairy at my feet. She stared it down and said, "Don't try anything, I'm watching you."
"I just....like...."
"It speaks lies. I caught it browsing around my garden."
"Like...um...."
"Stupid beast!" the fairy shouted, brushing the saliva from its tiny, thin dress. "I tell no lies and only invite others to accept my gracious service!"
"We cats can't kill fairies," Bowser said.
"Look...I..." Honestly, I'm a quiet person, but I've always felt that when the time comes to talk, I talk. I can do it with ease. I'm diplomatic even! What would you say if your cat brought you a fairy?
"At least that much is true, you dreadful animal," the fairy said. It flew up and sat cross-legged on the edge of my kitchen counter. "If you believe that thing, then you surely believe that pigs fly and goblins don't murder the firstborn of every doomed family."
"I just..."
"Just kill it already, Steve!" Bowser said. "What are you waiting for? Do you want your family and your family's descendants to be cursed for all of time? Do you want your name to be dragged through the mud by every possible means? Do you want your home to be sunk into the very bowels of Hell?!"
"Ah, stupid cats! You all are just prancing around, pretend that you are the friends of humans. We are the true friends! We grant wishes! What do you grant but a full litter box?"
"Why, you!"
They chased each other around my living room, and I sat stunned on a stool in front of the counter on my kitchen. Coffee, already brewed, filled a pot in front of me. I poured some of that, and a lot of whiskey, into a mug. I drank it, and drank more, and even some more. Perhaps not the best reaction....but what would you do?
(minor tense edits) | |
[WP] As a psychic, the dating game is hard. Every time you start dating someone new, you have flashes beyond the honeymoon stage, of your future arguments as a couple. | "I'm so sorry," I said. "But it's definitely you, not me."
James looked confused. "I-uh-what?" He stammered. "What do you mean, it's me?"
I set my cup of coffee down and leaned forward, putting my elbows on the table. "I mean, you don't like it when I work late."
"Obviously!" He huffed.
"No, I mean you really don't like it when I work late," I explained. "So much so that you considered throwing your phone across the room when I called you from the office last night."
James froze, latte in hand. "No I didn't..."
"Oh yes you did." I took another sip of coffee. "You also think my friend Ashley is stupid, think I'm too hard on myself, and that I'm ridiculous for loving avacado smoothies. Oh - you also hate that purple sweater I love."
James dropped his cup with a 'thunk'. Thankfully, it was almost empty, and only a couple drops of frothy milk splashed on the table.
"What...how..." he sputtered. He closed his mouth and then looked me square in the eye. "How do you know these things?"
I gave a little shrug and shook my head sorrowfully. "I'm blessed with a great eye for the details of the future," I intoned solemnly, hoping he wouldn't ask questions.
James looked down, back up at me, and then back down at the table, shaking his head. "I swear," he muttered, "if I didn't know better."
I smiled inwardly. James was definitely the smartest guy I dated. All of the fights I saw in the future were not flippant, with the exception of the purple sweater debacle of 2018, and I did appreciate that.
James looked back up, and I was shocked to see a small tear in his eye. "But I love you and that ridiculous sweater," he said slowly. "Yes, you loving avacado smoothies is weird and unnatural, but I don't have to drink them...and Ashley? I just don't like the way her husband treats her." He reached for my hand, and I shrunk back.
"I am never going to stop reminding you that you shouldn't work late every night," he said, "but that's because I love you, and I want you to treat yourself better. And if loving you so much that I want you to have a better life is the reason you want to break up with me, well, then I guess it's not meant to be...so are you sure?" His hand made contact with mine and I jumped, preparing myself for a future vision.
But instead of seeing the future, I saw my past. Dismissing men at the first sign of a fight, or seeing them bald and pudgy, using my gift as a crutch and a reason to lock myself away.
And then it jumped to the future, and I saw our fights again, except this time they seemed diminished, less angry.
I looked into James' eyes. "As long as you let me in there," he said, nodding at me, "I will love you, no matter what."
I sat there, frozen. With all my abilities, I'd never seen this coming...what was I supposed to do? I looked at him, my eyes pleading. He smiled, got up, and came around to my side of the booth.
"It starts right here," he said, sitting down next to me and wrapping his arms around me. "I'm right here."
I hesitated, and then snuggled in, resting my head on his shoulder. "It's not you," I admitted. "It's me...and I love you too."
And we sat there, pushing the past away, not thinking about the future, just embracing each other in the present. | "Are you fucking stupid?" She screamed, the left side of her upper lip curling into a familiar look of disgust.
Jazz ran his hand across his face and rubbed his nose as if he had an itch. As he put his hand down, he put on his best smile and looked her in the eye, "I'm sorry?"
"Yeah you are," she giggled. Jazz kept his smile. " I said, are you stopping by later?"
Jazz looked down, "I...uh....--"
"You're what, just tired of being with me? Do you even still love me? What the fuck, Jazz?"
"--Yeah," Jazz replied, looking back up. "Yeah, I, uh, got this thing after work with Ash; but I'll give you a call when I get done."
"Okay!" Melissa chirped. They both leaned in for a kiss, and when they were finished, she left.
Jazz sighed and dropped his head. *What am I doing?* He lifted his eyes in time to catch Melissa turn around and wave goodbye before she disappeared inside the building. The smile that came to Jazz then was genuine. *One day at a time*, he reminded himself. | |
[WP] As a psychic, the dating game is hard. Every time you start dating someone new, you have flashes beyond the honeymoon stage, of your future arguments as a couple. | The rain kept pattering against puddle and window, and on my umbrella as well. I looked nervously from car to car, each car that slowed in front of Geja's made my heart speed up. I watched each couple get out, dressed head to toe in toe in very upscale wear. The little signs played into their future, like the man who didn't open the door for his significant other. With a quick look into my hand, I saw the night they got their divorce.
"Hmm. They got married." I exclaimed, watching the woman struggle to jump over a puddle, and shooting a look at her boyfriend.
Finally, a black car slowed to the side, and out she popped. She wasn't as fancy as the other women, dressed in jeans and a nice blouse, but jeans nonetheless. She took the onslaught of rain like one would getting sprinkled with crude oil. She swiftly moved, emitting a slight almost inaudible squeal, and ran under my umbrella. Almost as soon as she pressed against me, I saw the beginning.
The rain subsided. I stood in an apartment, my belongings sprinkled amongst ones that I had never seen before. Seconds after the vision began, a suitcase flew into the living room, landing with a gigantic thunk.
"I can't do this anymore, you are SO boring. You don't care about me to pretend to be interested in what I like."
She finally came into view with another bag. She tossed it ontop of the other, and her head snapped up so her eyes could leer into mine, laced with anger. The eyes then narrowed and her mouth creased into a frown. I must have said something.
"Name one thing you do that I like doing..."
She waited.
"Oh really? I like doing that? See that's your thing. You're so psychic, you couldn't say something before? You didn't see all this?"
She waited once more, eventually scoffing and disappearing out of view again.
A few more minutes passed and she stormed back in, even more enraged.
"I cheated on you because I want to feel loved! Don't you understand that? I know it's shitty, but I feel like nothing to you!"
She started to cry, crying even harder after a few seconds.
"I wouldn't lie to you if I felt like I could talk to you! For someone who can see the truth, you really can't handle it..."
I wanted to move to her, but I could only observe. She looked up.
"See, that's why I'm leaving you. Michelle will be here to get the rest of my stuff..."
She moved towards the door with her bags. Suddenly she stopped, digging in her pocket, sobbing even harder as her hand stopped rummaging.
"I do love you. That's why you need to find someone else."
She produced a shiny emerald ring, which she placed on the counter. As she left she turned one last time and said "If you see this, just save us the trouble..."
As the door closed, rain filled the room, the smell of Geja's entered my nose once more, her arms wrapped around my bicep.
"What's wrong babe?"
I wasn't used to her voice being filled with hope, with love. I looked down into her eyes, they sparkled. Her eyes meeting mine made her giggle. I couldn't...
"Nothing, lets go in."
"Ok," she kissed me on the cheek,"I love you. This place is really awesome, you have great taste."
As she lead me in, I could only think... for how much longer. | "Are you fucking stupid?" She screamed, the left side of her upper lip curling into a familiar look of disgust.
Jazz ran his hand across his face and rubbed his nose as if he had an itch. As he put his hand down, he put on his best smile and looked her in the eye, "I'm sorry?"
"Yeah you are," she giggled. Jazz kept his smile. " I said, are you stopping by later?"
Jazz looked down, "I...uh....--"
"You're what, just tired of being with me? Do you even still love me? What the fuck, Jazz?"
"--Yeah," Jazz replied, looking back up. "Yeah, I, uh, got this thing after work with Ash; but I'll give you a call when I get done."
"Okay!" Melissa chirped. They both leaned in for a kiss, and when they were finished, she left.
Jazz sighed and dropped his head. *What am I doing?* He lifted his eyes in time to catch Melissa turn around and wave goodbye before she disappeared inside the building. The smile that came to Jazz then was genuine. *One day at a time*, he reminded himself. | |
[WP] As a Djinn (or Genie) you have granted hundreds of thousands of wishes for people over the years. One day you are called before the High Wish Council to undo one of your wishes, which one was it again? | “Djinn Alder, do you understand why you are here before this council?”
Alder swallowed his fear before breathlessly replying no.
“No,” the echoed replied, distaste practically dripping off the word. “I wonder how this could be, Djinn Alder. Seeing as we continuously have to bring you here for the same infractions.”
Alder said nothing, he continued to stare forward past the council at the wall, doing his best not to look intimidated.
“You are here because you have ignored one of the most sacred statutes of our work.” There was a long pause, as if she expected him to be the one to volunteer what it was that statute was. “Ensuring we do not take away a mortal’s free will. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Alder bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, as he readied himself to reply. “I did it to improve the mortal’s quality of life. There is no harm don-”
“No harm done?” Elder Zeron cut in, standing to her feet in outrage. “No. Harm. Done. Do you understand what you have done? What you stole from this woman? You have ripped away the very foundation of humanity from her. You have raped her of her free will. Of her ability to choose for herself. How dare you stand before us and proclaim you did not harm. You have done the most harmful thing that could be done to her.”
Alder flinched despite his best effort and tried to calm his breathing.
“You will undo the harm that you have caused this soul. You will unbind her from the compulsion you put her under.”
“So that she can live her life in pain?” Alder challenged, his strong jaw set in determination. “So she can go through her life in physical and emotional agony? You want me to undo a spell that will make her life better? That will make her daughter’s life better?” His chest rose faster with each moment. “I will not. I made something right, and you are asking me to restore it to it’s wrongful state. I refuse and I accept the consequences that will come with it.”
“You insolent fool,” Zeron said, baring her teeth as she came down from the council’s seats. “How dare you defy us. Defy the statutes put forth to us by the very gods that created us all.”
“Do you think you are higher than the almighties?” she questioned, her face mere inches from his face. He could barely breathe let alone answer. “The very gods that watch over us do not allow themselves to interfere with mortal free will.”
He took a step back, shaking despite himself. “You don’t understand. She-”
“She did not love that man!” Elder Zeron roared. “You had no right-none- to force her to!”
“The men she does love are horrible,” Alder pleaded. His stomach felt as though there were snakes slithering around inside it, and the walls around him felt as though they were closing in, but he persisted. “I would go as far as to even say evil. She chooses men that are incapable of true love. Men that-”
“And that is her choice,” another elder sighed quietly, standing to address him. “Free will comes at a price, Djinn Alder. A high price at times. We must honor the decisions the mortals make for themselves. If we don’t we tarnish our own souls.”
“The mortal woman,” he continued, his kind gray eyes staring at him sympathetically “has a right to love who she chooses for herself. It’s tragic, but it’s right.”
Adler shook his head, tears pricking in his eyes. “Don’t make me do this,” he begged tightly. “Please. Her daughter only wanted one thing. I tried to convince her to ask for something else. I tried,” he sobbed, embarrassed by his own emotion. “She just wanted her mother to love that man. And that man is a good man and- and he loves her. He loves the child too. Please. If I undo this she will marry the other and he will eventually kill them both. I know this in my very being. Please.”
“We are aware of the child’s wish and situation,” the last elder of the council said gravely. “That does not change the oath we are to uphold. These boundaries are not always easy to abide by at times, but they are needed. You need to learn to abide by them, as we have learned to.” She closed her eyes solemnly and stood to rule. “We have brought you before us, Djinn Adler, to give you the opportunity to right the wrong yourself. Regardless of your decision we are able to unbind the mortal from her daughter's wish. The full council has agreed the wish may not stand and we are prepared to unbind it ourselves. We want you to succeed in your calling, but if you do not abide by this ruling we will strip you of your title and powers.”
“You will also be outcasted into darkness,” Elder Zeron added. Her dark eyes held no understanding, no sympathy like the other council members. “We implore you to choose wisely. You can still do much good in this world. We do not wish to banish you or strip you from your powers.”
His heart dropped to his feet, but in the end he nodded. There really was no choice. He could feel the shift in the world as the spell was undone and he wrapped his arms around himself as he trembled. He hated himself, he almost felt like he deserved the darkness they threatened him with.
“They were happy,” he sobbed, falling to his knees and trying to catch his breath.
“It wasn’t real.”
“Does that matter?”
There was a long pause. “Yes.” | It isn't easy trying to 'port into the High Wish Council. One has to be summoned in order to even get within wishing distance of that place. But... then again, one would usually not wish to be summoned. As it meant you were in very serious trouble...
I had gotten a summons from the High Wish Council regarding the retraction of one of my earlier wishes that I had granted. They wouldn't tell me which one, just that it was imperative I undo it, at any cost.
I searched my memories for wishes I had granted. None of them really stood out, because, as far as wishes went, most of them tended to be weird or cliche anyways.
With a little puff of smoke, I managed to 'port right where the summons indicated - High Court 57 of the Retractions Department. Narrowly avoiding a fine of 30 years of granting kids wishes (commonly known as Santa duty) as I arrived just within the alotted time, I dusted off the leftover mist from my form.
"Leander, do you realize what events you have set into motion with this wish granted?", boomed the High Court Judge Rhazin. It's amazing what can come out of such a tiny form. In reality, that booming voice originated from a tiny ethereal mass of only about a foot long, hovering right in the centre of the room. I felt like I was in a Wizard of Oz moment.
Realizing I had yet to answer the question, I shook my head and replied, "No, Your Honorable One."
"I need this wish to be retracted and fast! His wish is spiralling out of control. I have never seen such a wish evolve into this kinda of fiasco in all my 3,000 years of existence!"
It was funny how agitated and imperious that little body could be, with the added contrast of that large booming voice. I would have laughed, had the situation not be so dire.
"Maybe this will refresh your memory..."
A fog appeared just in front of me, forming into roughly an oval-ish mass. Slowly, colours and shapes started swirling into a humanoid form, ultimately ending in a shape I came to recognize.
And who could not forget that mop of hair (if you could call it that!), and that strangely tanned orange skin.
In all my 677 years, and many hundreds of thousands of wishes granted, I would DEFINITELY remember this one.
"I wish everyone in the World would know me, and that I be remembered even after I die"
In the grand scheme of things, wishes - even somewhat specific wishes - could have a life of their own. That was the risk of having your wishes granted by a Djinn.
All I replied was, "I GOT YOU, FAM."
Before he came to have his wish granted, he was just like any other human I had ever encountered.
...but after that... well...
Let's just say you would not forget it.
| |
[WP] One day, all terrorism suddenly ceases. Government officials are baffled. But you know exactly what is going on. | Allah, wearing nothing more than a red, white, and blue thong, stepped out from behind the curtain.
"Does this look good on me?" he said, posing with his arms akimbo.
I studied his rippling, muscular form for a moment.
"Yeah," I said, "looks great."
"Awesome, bro."
I strode across the room, to the full body mirror, to check out my own neon green thong. I modelled for several seconds, sucking my gut in, pushing my chest out, flexing my arms.
"You ready to mack on some bitches, bro?" said Allah, jiggling his bulge.
"Fuck yeah, man."
We left the room and walked down to the beach that stretched for miles before the hotel in which we were staying, down to that dry space of land at the meeting point between the tides and the sand, where we set out our umbrella and our towels, and lay down to soak up some sun and, if the day was good to us and the women were plentiful, pick up a couple of chicks, some scantily clad women perfectly accepting of our sexual desires.
Resting on my towel, with my sunglasses on and my Bluetooth speaker playing Skrillex, I glanced over at Allah and noticed him swiping right on Tinder, matching with both golden skinned blondes with shapely figures, and with pale women with acne and the beginnings of thin moustaches.
"So, seriously, bro," I said, "why'd you give up on the diety game? Sounded like a pretty sweet gig to me."
"Bro, I'm packing ten inches. I'm not down to be some god of celibacy with a million virgins hanging around. That's just not me. So, I called it quits, moved to Cali, and the rest is history."
"Wow, so you're just, like, out to hit..."
"I love that song," said a tall brunette with enormous boobs.
"Fuck yeah," said Allah, "I love this song. You want sit down and have a cold one with me?"
Allah held up two bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade.
"Sure," said the brunette, smiling.
She sat down and Allah began talking to her about this rave he went to the other day. | "I told you it would work"
"Yeah, I get it. You ended war as we know it. Are you sure there won't be any side effects?"
"Shouldn't be. All I did was make it so that the atomic structure of gunpowder was no longer explosive."
"I get the feeling that there may be side effects to that."
"Whatever, lets go celebrate and get dinner."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Why won't the car start?"
"No idea, its trying its best to. Damn thing wont' catch."
"Wait... let me try something."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"If this doesn't work I will be so mad at you."
"Yeah, I thought I just targeted gunpowder with the machine."
I grabbed a match, lit it and threw it into the gas canister. It fizzled out as it made contact with the liquid in the container.
"So, I may have accidentally made it so carbon fuels no longer work..." | |
[WP] "Antarctica" is an ancient word meaning "terrible evil". You are part of a research team who just discovered why | The rookery of penguins in the distance stood in a sharp contrast to the otherwise blinding whiteness that enveloped the research team. They had been moving towards the way-point on cross-country skis, struggling through the windswept and desolate environment. The blowing snow nipped at any exposed skin, slicing like tiny razor blades. At first, it had been unbearable, but after three days his now beet-red skin had seemed to develop some sort of tolerance. He motioned for his team to follow him behind a peak of snow, providing them with a brief reprieve from the incessant wind.
‘Okay, we’re only 500 meters out from the site now but the sun is beginning to set,’ he started. ‘Set up your tents while there’s still daylight and we’ll make out move tonight.’
The team had been dispatched from the McMurdo research station at the south tip of Ross Island to investigate an unexplained tremor that was being picked up by the National Science Foundation analysts who were monitoring geophysical scales in the area. Tremors themselves were generally not a cause for alarm. The ice shelf was beginning to separate and the scales picked up subtle tremors relatively frequently. This one, however, was different. It came across the monitor as a series of waves, cycling with an eerie consistency. A pulse, of sorts.
The analysts had run through the typical causes – geothermic eruptions, general tremors caused by the melting ice caps, technical error in the instrument that measured the tremors – only to come to the conclusion that they had never seen anything like it before. The analysts identified the epicenter and requested that the research team set off and try to provide some insight into the inexplicable phenomenon.
Henry set up his tent with an expert efficiency. This was his second tour at the McMurdo research station. Two years prior, he had spent the winter at the station researching the impact that climate change was having on the mating of King Penguins in the area as part of his PhD thesis. He had spent weeks outside the station, living off coffee and granola bars in his comfortable Sierra Design tent. He had grown accustomed to surviving in the otherwise inhospitable environment.
After the tent was erected, he put a kettle on his small, propane burner and invited the rest of his team in for a quick briefing. They were a eclectic bunch, drawn from the Environmental Studies classes he taught at Stanford. This was their first time in Antarctica, most were working on their Masters’ thesis, but they had been quick learners. Other than the occasional complaint about the blisters from their ski boots, they had been comfortable with everything that was thrown at them.
As they gathered around in the cramped four-person tent, he began to outline the plan for the evening. They were pressed for time; a storm was supposed to begin blowing in over the next few days and so he did not want to wait until the morning to begin their investigation. Every minute counted. They would move in on skis, their headlamps providing the necessary light. They had little information about what to expect, other than a grainy picture from a research drone that Henry had reviewed before they set out. It appeared that there was some sort of small crater in the snow. He was not able to make out what exactly had caused the crater, nor the depth of the crater, so he instructed his team to approach it cautiously. If it was too deep to see clearly, he would rappel down with their aid in order to inspect further.
After he was comfortable that they understood, he began to prepare his gear for the expedition. He swapped out his plush, Canada Goose jacket for a more finer overcoat. It wouldn’t protect him from the cold as well, but it was thinner and he could move more freely in it. He snapped his headlamp onto his helmet and removed his thick mitts in favor of a pair of fine gloves. If he needed to rappel, the mitts would be too bulky to do so safely.
Once the rest of his team was ready, the began to move out.
The sun had now set over the horizon. The complete lack of light pollution in the area made the night a beautiful spectacle, bright stars scattered across the sky and the dim, green glow of Aurora Australis dancing in the distance.
Henry’s headlamp lit up the area in front of him as they moved towards the way-point on his GPS device. Suddenly, Henry could make out a distinct lip rising from the snow. The edge of the crater, he realized. He instructed his team to move forward on foot from this point on.
As they approached the edge, Henry began to get a better look at the area. It didn’t appear to be an ordinary crater, but rather looked as though someone had dropped an extremely hot stone onto the surface of the snow. It resembled more of a hole or a pit, the circumference a seemingly perfect circle. He moved closer and peered down but the light from his headlamp failed to illuminate the bottom. He could feel the tremor under his ski boots, pulsating every few seconds.
‘Pass me one of my poles,’ he instructed one of his students. ‘Quiet.’
He approached the lip of the hole and let his ski pole fall down to the bottom.
*One* –
He heard the pole land with a thud. It couldn’t be that deep, he realized. With that, he began to weigh his options. He had no idea what was at the bottom of the pit, but if they were going to find out, it would have to be now. There was a risk, no doubt. But the pit wasn’t deep enough to be some type of thermal fissure, nor did it resemble one. Not only that, but if he couldn’t come to a conclusion tonight, they would have the scrap the expedition and try again later. His curiosity began to get the better of him and he instructed his students to prepare his carabiners.
Attaching the thick line to his hip, he leaned back over the pit and began to slowly rappel down, a student feeding him slack from above. Looking over his shoulder, the bottom began to come into sight. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. However, as stepped down into the white powdery snow, the pulses became jarring. They shook him with a tremendous force, vibrating him to the bone.
He moved around slowly, trying to determine the cause of the tremors. As he examined the base of the pit, his toe brushed up against something firm underneath the layer of powdery snow. Excited, he began to brush the soft snow away, unveiling a oval shaped stone nestled into the ice below. He took a knife from his belt and chipped away, freeing the stone from the ice.
It felt warm in his hands and he noticed that the vibrations had stopped. It was unlike any other stone he had seen before. The surface was lined with small indentations and a rough skin-like material. A thick strand of gold ran from tip to tip. He stared at it, mesmerized. Suddenly, it began to pulsate again, starling him as he dropped it to the ground. It bounced off the firm plastic toe of his ski boot and rolled up against the side of the pit. A deep cracked had developed along the side of the stone.
He moved towards it, cautiously. As he approached, he was astonished to notice that something was beginning to crawl out from inside. He knelt and slowly peeled away the chips that were cracking off of it. His heart came to a stop.
‘Up! Pull me back up! Now!’
| The snows and ice didn't usually melt this far down.. that's why this team was sanctioned. See if anything new could be discovered about the impact of our society on the environment of the poles and in turn, the rest of the world. This, though? Out of my realm of reason. Beside me was all my colleagues and below me, the ice was showered with snow, drifting with the harsh wind that roared. I looked to my left and right, met by equally puzzled faces. In front of my feet was the maw of a great beast, one tooth of many sticking from the ice. I looked at the head and neck of the animal.. not one I have ever seen before. It looked reptilian and massive by the size of its head. Almost like a..
The wind blew harder and the snow whipped away where we were standing. Beneath us, we could see clear beneath the ice. Like a dragon. Beneath the first, massive and menacing, was others - each deeper and further than the last. Around their necks were chains and other adornments and I crouched down to inspect closer. My colleagues began to backpedal away. I reached a finger slowly down and probed the tooth that stood out. White steam reacted, the nose of the creature flaring as the ice covering its maw sunk a little lower. I staggered back, falling to my backside and wading backward on all fours. Two teeth, now. I got up and ran as fast as I could, the others already long gone.
--
(Goes with some other posts I made recently.) | |
[WP] A stalker discovers that his victim of obsession is actually a serial killer. | "You're a persistent one, aren't you?" Jack said, turning Freddie's chin to the side. "Not police, no. Private detective? No, not that either."
Freddie screwed up his face and tried to spit blood onto Jack's shirt, but Jack squeezed his cheeks and forced his head further away with a disgusted snort. Jack released Freddie's jaw and took a few steps to the table at the side of the room, where Freddie's backpack and its contents were laid out. A camera, a folder full of photographs, printouts of Jack's online profiles and posts, a journal full of notes, a map of Jack's movements through the city... It was thorough, but clearly amateur. Jack flipped through Freddie's wallet and finally stopped on a plastic membership card.
"Ah, I see. That's where I've seen you. Same gym." He continued shuffling the cards and stopped again. "...and coffee place. Hm. Almost got a free coffee." He pocketed the punchcard. "Okay, so, you're the gym, and, what, decide you like what you see?"
Freddie licked his teeth. "Something like that."
"Do tell."
"You go to my church, too. PTA. Seen you at games. Real involved kinda guy, aren'tchya?"
"It certainly helps."
"Mr. Perfect," Freddie growled.
Jack laughed. "I try to give that impression, yes. I'm pleased that someone noticed."
"But you're not. Seen you, pickin' boys up from the shelter. They trust you, hop in with you. Don't come back. People think you sent 'em off to another city, sent 'em home to their parents. Helped 'em get into halfway houses. People think you're real nice. But I seen you."
"Oh, really?" Jack thumbed through the pile of photos and saw a few that made his heart flutter. Boys who were supposed to be gone, sitting in his cabin. Drinking a hot coffee. Getting dragged into his shed. "Hm. Tell me, then. If you think I'm so dangerous, why come out here? Why come alone?"
"Bring the evidence," Freddie grunted. He tried to stretch his shoulders, but his arms, bound behind his back, refused to cooperate.
Jack leaned against the table and crossed his arms. "And this is helpful to you because...?"
"S'worth somethin' to ya, to keep all that under wraps."
"So you've got copies."
"Yup. So we're gonna make a deal."
"Oh?"
"First time I seen you, talkin' at city council, people goin' shiny-eyed? Respected your passion. PTA, clearly cared 'bout the education of your students. Then you show up everywhere. Church choir, old folk's home, homeless shelter, humane society. Start to get annoyed. Friends of yours I run into gushin' about stuff you're doin' in the community. Great guy, wonderful guy." Freddie snorted. "Annoying, but fine. But then, I see you at the gym. Everybody loves you, and in great shape, and well-equipped to boot. Hated your guts."
"Fair enough."
"Start followin' you around. Watch you tip your servers twenty percent like clockwork. Always polite, openin' doors for people, helpin' old ladies take their groceries to their cars. Hated you so, so much. Then I noticed, you were all on your own. Thought at first, oh, he's so busy, no time for dating. Then realized, no time for friends either."
"What can I say? I'm a man who enjoys his solitude."
"Hmph. Yeah, only not really. Seen you take a boy, 'bout six months back. Lost you when you got on your property. Wasn't so bold then. 'Bout two months later, same thing. Get closer this time. Six weeks after, close enough to see what's happening. Came back every night for a week and a half, there he is. Well, here. Nobody to hear him out here. Nobody lookin' for him. And you, standin' there, buck naked, showin' him how cruel the world can be."
A small smile tugged at Jack's lips. "As much as I'm enjoying this, I'd appreciate if you'd get to your point."
"I want in."
"I'm... sorry?"
"Not on the killin' part. Not my thing. I want in on the life you've got. I want to be a pillar of the community. I want women to want to be with me. I want people to talk to their friends about the shit I've done."
"Are you serious?"
"Yup."
"You... don't need to make a deal with me to do that. You just have to... be involved. I can't just drop your name and have people think you're an important community member. People notice when you act, that's what it takes. You know, it's people like you who are the reason the library's not getting enough funding and the streets are covered in litter. Just want all the benefits without doing any of the work."
"Don't need a lecture. Need to know if we have a deal."
"Let me ask you something. Does anyone else know about the copies?"
"What?"
"The copies. Is someone holding onto them?"
"No, I hid 'em."
"Hid them. Nobody knows where?"
"No, so you'll never find 'em."
"Uh huh." Jack began to unbutton his shirt.
"What're you doing?"
"Listen, this has been really fun. But I'm getting tired, and I've got to be at the school at 6:30 tomorrow morning. I've enjoyed our time together, really. Blackmail, stalking, wonderful. The thing is," he said with a sigh, "if nobody knows where the pictures are, they're not really a threat, are they?"
The next morning at his favorite coffee place, Jack turned in Freddie's punchcard and got a free cup of premium roast. It was going to be a beautiful day. | I knew we were meant to be the very first moment our arms brushed on that crowded boardwalk near the carnival.
Sure, other arms brushed mine, but I knew this was something special.
I followed her home that same day.
I watched her enter the home. I climbed up a tree to get a better view.
I saw a light come on. I saw the backs of a man and a woman backing up slowly into the room, toward the window.
Then there was a bang, a shot, a hole, and blood splattering on the glass as the man got hit. Then another bang, the woman's head exploding like a canteloupe. She crumpled, and I caught my first view of their asssilant.
The girl from the boardwalk. She was holding a shotgun.
And she was staring directly at me.
She smiled and lifted the gun. | |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "Jaxon!"
Great. Right when I thought I had a break. I pulled myself out of my hammock in our shelter and walked down the stairs to the opening area. "Yeah Hera?" Hera was a Phraxyan, a big species in colonization. Humans and Phraxyans and tried to colonize the same planet, so we agreed to share it. Which is why she was shouting to me about something. "Why are there Black Hole reactor parts here?" Don't you know how humans FTL travel?" "Enlighten me." She's gonna ruin her pants. "We use miniaturized black holes to create closed time-like curves to jump across the universe." "Closed time-like curves? You mean..." "Yep. Wormholes." She cursed a storm in Boreaxan. The Sautair dialect. "Why did I agree to bunk with you for this colony?" "Heck if I know." She shrugged and walked off to make breakfast, and I bent down to recalibrate the null-mass regulator on the reactor. "Wait.....huh. I could've sworn I reset it last night. Hera, did you touch this?" "Yeah. Why?" "Nothing. You just screwed the null-mass regulator. Might want to shut your Slipstream matrix off in your ship." "Why?" "It might end up teleporting it to some random spot." "I'll shut it off." | Si'kthwrn had come to the SI-66, but had broken down close to Setharis III, designation: WORLD. Unfortunately, her Tel-EM Drive had cascaded, causing a temporal rupture on her ship. Si'kth was lucky to escape with her life.
She skidded in through the doors of Crazy Dave's Intergalactic Transport Emporium, to the sound of horrifying tunes sizzling out of the audio systems. Her jointspines twitched painfully. She engaged her Babelfish interstellar app, and approached the Human. Her spiny song and quivering dance was translated in real-time into Human Secondary. "Hi, I'm looking for something that'll get me home, and I'm hoping you have what I need." She ended in a pose with her quad-arm pointing skywards, and her miliilegs standing in an 'A' shape.
Dave drawled back at her. "Well, ah guess I could give you one of mah rusbuckets for safe travel. Now, would ya prefer one of yer own type o'drives, or would ya like one of mah EEE-Special things fer Solo Passengers?" The Babelfish could quite translate through its movements the last part, so Si'kth just nodded.
Dave motioned for her to follow him, and pointed to a gigantic monstrosity, easily fifty times the size of her dead ship, with its Tel-EM drive. Now, this one here's fer yer long-range Homely folks. The reason it's so darned *big* is because it happens to have both a Gen-Yew-Ine first-generation Earth Tel-EM as a backup, but it's also a final-generation Mul-Tie-versal Dyson Void drive, used only fer folding Space and Time. ^^^^^^^^Caution: ^^^^^^^^this ^^^^^^^^is ^^^^^^^^as ^^^^^^^^sold."
Si'kth had little option but to purchase this monstrosity, as her Bredits were almost dry. She had to trust this...this...*antique*. And the dangers of Voidspace? Faugh! Only these fleshlings thought of doing something so reckless as traveling the Universal branes of existence! Never mind the fact that those strings help bind the multiverse together; these things were prone to explosion, catastrophic failures leading to entire ships being both smaller than a downquark and larger than the entirety of Reality-Sim! Talk about Reality-ending paradoxes!
Si'kthwrn decided she'd just hack it in the lot in the Juiper Belt, so that the Tel-EM drive was the Primary. She expected that all it would take is flicking a switch beneath the Dyson Void drive. | |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "Just divide by zero!" the human exclaimed excitedly.
"Excuse me?"
"Just divide by zero. Well, divide by zero, a lot... And really quickly... But essentially divide by zero enough times and, Bam! FTL. Who knew?!"
Graxlytizzq, G, for short, shook his head in disbelief. He had come here at the request of the IGSTA (InterGalactic Space Travel Association) to inspect the humans' new form of FTL.
"So, what happens when you 'just divide by zero a bunch of times'? What are the side effects? What is the cost to do so?" questioned G.
"That's the best part! There are no side effects, other than the intended travel and there is no cost! It's as if dividing by zero is just magically allowing us to travel through space at the speed of light, when unput into our computers for an intended travel distance. Isn't that out of this world?!"
---
"Said to be unorthodox, unsafe or even "Damn Stupid" by some of the best minds in the galaxy, The DenominatorZ-Drive was certainly all of the above. What the humans thought they were doing was simply inputting travel distances measured in units of 1/0's into their navigational computers; something their mathematicians said was impossible (to divide by zero). That was the damn stupid part. Clearly, they don't understand their own technology.
The unorthodox part is that, for every time they divided by zero, a star in the galaxy winked out. It took awhile to notice, as it seems to be random. It was actually a subset of humans, a "Redditor", whatever that is, that hapened to notice that the times when a star disappeared match the times that DenominatorZ-drive was being tested. So far no one among the more technologically savvy species can figure out what determines which star disappears, but so far it's already cost the universe a couple of second suns. Fortunately, they weren't worth too much as they were in a mostly uninhibited galaxies, but who knows what could disappear next?
The unsafe part is what happens to the star's energy upon disappearance. Besides the obvious implications of the random star disappearances on navigation, ecosystems, etc, what is actually happening is that it suddenly powers the ship with explosive and instantaneous force. Imagine if something went wrong and the ship were docked anywhere near an inhabited planet? What if it randomly selected the largest sun ever recorded, WuTangiun and the system (which we currently do not understand how it manages the energy or keeps it contained in the first place) can't handle it? Will all that power be wrought upon the surrounding galaxy?
The humans are playing with a power they do not understand and all they realize is that "they're dividing by zero". It's slowly costing the universe its stars and could someday cost us our lives." | Si'kthwrn had come to the SI-66, but had broken down close to Setharis III, designation: WORLD. Unfortunately, her Tel-EM Drive had cascaded, causing a temporal rupture on her ship. Si'kth was lucky to escape with her life.
She skidded in through the doors of Crazy Dave's Intergalactic Transport Emporium, to the sound of horrifying tunes sizzling out of the audio systems. Her jointspines twitched painfully. She engaged her Babelfish interstellar app, and approached the Human. Her spiny song and quivering dance was translated in real-time into Human Secondary. "Hi, I'm looking for something that'll get me home, and I'm hoping you have what I need." She ended in a pose with her quad-arm pointing skywards, and her miliilegs standing in an 'A' shape.
Dave drawled back at her. "Well, ah guess I could give you one of mah rusbuckets for safe travel. Now, would ya prefer one of yer own type o'drives, or would ya like one of mah EEE-Special things fer Solo Passengers?" The Babelfish could quite translate through its movements the last part, so Si'kth just nodded.
Dave motioned for her to follow him, and pointed to a gigantic monstrosity, easily fifty times the size of her dead ship, with its Tel-EM drive. Now, this one here's fer yer long-range Homely folks. The reason it's so darned *big* is because it happens to have both a Gen-Yew-Ine first-generation Earth Tel-EM as a backup, but it's also a final-generation Mul-Tie-versal Dyson Void drive, used only fer folding Space and Time. ^^^^^^^^Caution: ^^^^^^^^this ^^^^^^^^is ^^^^^^^^as ^^^^^^^^sold."
Si'kth had little option but to purchase this monstrosity, as her Bredits were almost dry. She had to trust this...this...*antique*. And the dangers of Voidspace? Faugh! Only these fleshlings thought of doing something so reckless as traveling the Universal branes of existence! Never mind the fact that those strings help bind the multiverse together; these things were prone to explosion, catastrophic failures leading to entire ships being both smaller than a downquark and larger than the entirety of Reality-Sim! Talk about Reality-ending paradoxes!
Si'kthwrn decided she'd just hack it in the lot in the Juiper Belt, so that the Tel-EM drive was the Primary. She expected that all it would take is flicking a switch beneath the Dyson Void drive. | |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | There once was a human from Earth,
Who studied for all of their worth,
To travel the expanse of space,
This human created a gun,
To travel at the fastest pace,
This human blew up their own sun. | Si'kthwrn had come to the SI-66, but had broken down close to Setharis III, designation: WORLD. Unfortunately, her Tel-EM Drive had cascaded, causing a temporal rupture on her ship. Si'kth was lucky to escape with her life.
She skidded in through the doors of Crazy Dave's Intergalactic Transport Emporium, to the sound of horrifying tunes sizzling out of the audio systems. Her jointspines twitched painfully. She engaged her Babelfish interstellar app, and approached the Human. Her spiny song and quivering dance was translated in real-time into Human Secondary. "Hi, I'm looking for something that'll get me home, and I'm hoping you have what I need." She ended in a pose with her quad-arm pointing skywards, and her miliilegs standing in an 'A' shape.
Dave drawled back at her. "Well, ah guess I could give you one of mah rusbuckets for safe travel. Now, would ya prefer one of yer own type o'drives, or would ya like one of mah EEE-Special things fer Solo Passengers?" The Babelfish could quite translate through its movements the last part, so Si'kth just nodded.
Dave motioned for her to follow him, and pointed to a gigantic monstrosity, easily fifty times the size of her dead ship, with its Tel-EM drive. Now, this one here's fer yer long-range Homely folks. The reason it's so darned *big* is because it happens to have both a Gen-Yew-Ine first-generation Earth Tel-EM as a backup, but it's also a final-generation Mul-Tie-versal Dyson Void drive, used only fer folding Space and Time. ^^^^^^^^Caution: ^^^^^^^^this ^^^^^^^^is ^^^^^^^^as ^^^^^^^^sold."
Si'kth had little option but to purchase this monstrosity, as her Bredits were almost dry. She had to trust this...this...*antique*. And the dangers of Voidspace? Faugh! Only these fleshlings thought of doing something so reckless as traveling the Universal branes of existence! Never mind the fact that those strings help bind the multiverse together; these things were prone to explosion, catastrophic failures leading to entire ships being both smaller than a downquark and larger than the entirety of Reality-Sim! Talk about Reality-ending paradoxes!
Si'kthwrn decided she'd just hack it in the lot in the Juiper Belt, so that the Tel-EM drive was the Primary. She expected that all it would take is flicking a switch beneath the Dyson Void drive. | |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Faster than light (ftl) travel happens fast, people knew that from the outset.
Ftl traffic accidents happen faster, people were just smart enough to figure that out beforehand.
What most people didn't know before they tried faster than light travel, however, was that even if it doesn't go wrong directly going about it the wrong way was about as obvious to the rest of the universe as a steam-train going the wrong way down a busy one way street.
Actually it's more obvious than that but analogies on a galactic scale tend not to work if taken literally.
you see, the elegance of other species systems such as Kantian gates and salec skip drives is two fold, the ship itself never reaches particularly high speeds and can be sure that there is nothing between it and its destination except extradimensional shift energies, which dissipate in their own extra dimension.
The mildly less elegant wave riders and pulse tubes are still practically applicable because of the ability to steer them whilst travelling using small on-board EM thrusters.
One can almost imagine the conversation that led to it's design, the humans first light speed capable craft (the Multiplanetary Intergalactic Lightspeed Vehicle.)
Scientist 1: "so you're saying we can really kill two birds with one stone here?"
Scientist 2: "absolutely! the very mechanism that ensures we hit nothing on the way is what we'll use as an energy sink to slow the craft at its destination!"
Engineer: "not only that but it mainly uses technology we've had at our disposal for decades, we set up some working models in the Nevada desert."
Scientist 1: "perfect, it's so logical that the shortest route as the crow flies would be the best."
consequently the MILV had only one way of ensuring it didn't collide with objects, it destroyed them with a massively powerful laser beam fractions of a second before the fission igniters started its faster than lightspeed adventures. The MILV also had only one way to stop travelling faster than the speed of light and that was to actually catch up with its own humongous laser pulse, the fallout from which necessitated some rather hefty shielding.
So there are two ways in which thousands of tonnes of train forcing there way down a road is a good analogy for human ftl travel.
first off everyone on that street is going to watch in total horror as the humongous lump of metal barges everyone's nicely proportioned cars into the newly created wreckage piles at the side of the road.
secondly you cant stop a train unless it's the end of the line. | Si'kthwrn had come to the SI-66, but had broken down close to Setharis III, designation: WORLD. Unfortunately, her Tel-EM Drive had cascaded, causing a temporal rupture on her ship. Si'kth was lucky to escape with her life.
She skidded in through the doors of Crazy Dave's Intergalactic Transport Emporium, to the sound of horrifying tunes sizzling out of the audio systems. Her jointspines twitched painfully. She engaged her Babelfish interstellar app, and approached the Human. Her spiny song and quivering dance was translated in real-time into Human Secondary. "Hi, I'm looking for something that'll get me home, and I'm hoping you have what I need." She ended in a pose with her quad-arm pointing skywards, and her miliilegs standing in an 'A' shape.
Dave drawled back at her. "Well, ah guess I could give you one of mah rusbuckets for safe travel. Now, would ya prefer one of yer own type o'drives, or would ya like one of mah EEE-Special things fer Solo Passengers?" The Babelfish could quite translate through its movements the last part, so Si'kth just nodded.
Dave motioned for her to follow him, and pointed to a gigantic monstrosity, easily fifty times the size of her dead ship, with its Tel-EM drive. Now, this one here's fer yer long-range Homely folks. The reason it's so darned *big* is because it happens to have both a Gen-Yew-Ine first-generation Earth Tel-EM as a backup, but it's also a final-generation Mul-Tie-versal Dyson Void drive, used only fer folding Space and Time. ^^^^^^^^Caution: ^^^^^^^^this ^^^^^^^^is ^^^^^^^^as ^^^^^^^^sold."
Si'kth had little option but to purchase this monstrosity, as her Bredits were almost dry. She had to trust this...this...*antique*. And the dangers of Voidspace? Faugh! Only these fleshlings thought of doing something so reckless as traveling the Universal branes of existence! Never mind the fact that those strings help bind the multiverse together; these things were prone to explosion, catastrophic failures leading to entire ships being both smaller than a downquark and larger than the entirety of Reality-Sim! Talk about Reality-ending paradoxes!
Si'kthwrn decided she'd just hack it in the lot in the Juiper Belt, so that the Tel-EM drive was the Primary. She expected that all it would take is flicking a switch beneath the Dyson Void drive. | |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Humanity's solution was space-folding. The problem is that in the folding process, anything along the "crease" is annihilated utterly. The most difficult part of the process was mapping an infinite trajectory in opposite directions and seeing to it that nothing of value was along this line. This inevitably led to problems; on one occasion, by chance two foldings intersected, wherein it was discovered that an entire 2D plane of our existence was destroyed. Apparently, major celestial bodies do not like having their continuity interrupted, and this causes them to re-coalesce into separate celestial bodies. The eggheads seem to think this is due to some interruption in some fundamental force of physics being discontinued for an infinitesimally brief but relevant length of time, but most people think they're full of crap and just guessing.
The other problem is that objects perpendicular to the fold at vast distances from the fold are slammed together along the hyperplane. Imagine two stars being slammed together from opposite ends of the galaxy within the 120-second duration of the folding event...literally impossible speeds. This really pisses off some other species whose nighttime skies are being polluted by intense flashes of light, to say nothing of how miffed the inhabitants of those systems might tend to become...
As the humans' foldings became more frequent, their territory has become a veritable origamy crane of hyperdimensional confusion. Travel within their territory is inadvisable at this time. Apparently their big thing now is to "loop" the fold upon itself, which allows interdimensional travel, but in unpredictable ways. Heaven, Nirvana, Acheron, Blathezuuh, Dave's Dimension, and Gweeguooiton 7 are now spilling into this reality, causing quite a mess. Dave is such an asshole. He stole the Ring Nebula, and is jackassing around wearing the Mexican Hat Galaxy and eating all of the tacos in the known universe. Jerk didn't even offer to pay. | Si'kthwrn had come to the SI-66, but had broken down close to Setharis III, designation: WORLD. Unfortunately, her Tel-EM Drive had cascaded, causing a temporal rupture on her ship. Si'kth was lucky to escape with her life.
She skidded in through the doors of Crazy Dave's Intergalactic Transport Emporium, to the sound of horrifying tunes sizzling out of the audio systems. Her jointspines twitched painfully. She engaged her Babelfish interstellar app, and approached the Human. Her spiny song and quivering dance was translated in real-time into Human Secondary. "Hi, I'm looking for something that'll get me home, and I'm hoping you have what I need." She ended in a pose with her quad-arm pointing skywards, and her miliilegs standing in an 'A' shape.
Dave drawled back at her. "Well, ah guess I could give you one of mah rusbuckets for safe travel. Now, would ya prefer one of yer own type o'drives, or would ya like one of mah EEE-Special things fer Solo Passengers?" The Babelfish could quite translate through its movements the last part, so Si'kth just nodded.
Dave motioned for her to follow him, and pointed to a gigantic monstrosity, easily fifty times the size of her dead ship, with its Tel-EM drive. Now, this one here's fer yer long-range Homely folks. The reason it's so darned *big* is because it happens to have both a Gen-Yew-Ine first-generation Earth Tel-EM as a backup, but it's also a final-generation Mul-Tie-versal Dyson Void drive, used only fer folding Space and Time. ^^^^^^^^Caution: ^^^^^^^^this ^^^^^^^^is ^^^^^^^^as ^^^^^^^^sold."
Si'kth had little option but to purchase this monstrosity, as her Bredits were almost dry. She had to trust this...this...*antique*. And the dangers of Voidspace? Faugh! Only these fleshlings thought of doing something so reckless as traveling the Universal branes of existence! Never mind the fact that those strings help bind the multiverse together; these things were prone to explosion, catastrophic failures leading to entire ships being both smaller than a downquark and larger than the entirety of Reality-Sim! Talk about Reality-ending paradoxes!
Si'kthwrn decided she'd just hack it in the lot in the Juiper Belt, so that the Tel-EM drive was the Primary. She expected that all it would take is flicking a switch beneath the Dyson Void drive. | |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | To whom it may concern,
We have recently been informed by our observation satellites that you have finally discovered faster then light travel.
We, the Alliance of the Great Races have decided send you this letter instead of meeting you in person declining any chance of being indoctrinated into the Alliance. Said reason is mainly due to your unorthodox and dangerous version of Faster Then Light travel.
1. Use of Lithium-Ion to power your drive has been banned from the known galaxy for a long time. The substance has been known to explode under extreme use or even when undisturbed.
2. The Ludicrous speed your ships have reached has known side effects that would dissolve biological material if exposed to the speed over 100 times.
3. We've also unanimously voted that your race is in fact... repugnant.
Have a good day.
Alliance Chairman Zoidberg. | Si'kthwrn had come to the SI-66, but had broken down close to Setharis III, designation: WORLD. Unfortunately, her Tel-EM Drive had cascaded, causing a temporal rupture on her ship. Si'kth was lucky to escape with her life.
She skidded in through the doors of Crazy Dave's Intergalactic Transport Emporium, to the sound of horrifying tunes sizzling out of the audio systems. Her jointspines twitched painfully. She engaged her Babelfish interstellar app, and approached the Human. Her spiny song and quivering dance was translated in real-time into Human Secondary. "Hi, I'm looking for something that'll get me home, and I'm hoping you have what I need." She ended in a pose with her quad-arm pointing skywards, and her miliilegs standing in an 'A' shape.
Dave drawled back at her. "Well, ah guess I could give you one of mah rusbuckets for safe travel. Now, would ya prefer one of yer own type o'drives, or would ya like one of mah EEE-Special things fer Solo Passengers?" The Babelfish could quite translate through its movements the last part, so Si'kth just nodded.
Dave motioned for her to follow him, and pointed to a gigantic monstrosity, easily fifty times the size of her dead ship, with its Tel-EM drive. Now, this one here's fer yer long-range Homely folks. The reason it's so darned *big* is because it happens to have both a Gen-Yew-Ine first-generation Earth Tel-EM as a backup, but it's also a final-generation Mul-Tie-versal Dyson Void drive, used only fer folding Space and Time. ^^^^^^^^Caution: ^^^^^^^^this ^^^^^^^^is ^^^^^^^^as ^^^^^^^^sold."
Si'kth had little option but to purchase this monstrosity, as her Bredits were almost dry. She had to trust this...this...*antique*. And the dangers of Voidspace? Faugh! Only these fleshlings thought of doing something so reckless as traveling the Universal branes of existence! Never mind the fact that those strings help bind the multiverse together; these things were prone to explosion, catastrophic failures leading to entire ships being both smaller than a downquark and larger than the entirety of Reality-Sim! Talk about Reality-ending paradoxes!
Si'kthwrn decided she'd just hack it in the lot in the Juiper Belt, so that the Tel-EM drive was the Primary. She expected that all it would take is flicking a switch beneath the Dyson Void drive. | |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Trendsetti was looking at the report on the testing of forward-pushed wormhole system, and he wasn't happy.
On paper, FPWS should have been perfect. A space ship does a couple of certain calculations about its destination, sends the results into its Yadari-Futara particle launcher, fires a reversed Yadari particle projectile from it in destination's general direction, and the projectile goes on its way and creates a wormhole for the FTL travel.
In practice, it turned out to work just fine. The downside, as the report states, is that physical objects don't like it when the projectile goes through them, something Yadari and Futara apparently overlooked. Apparently, when the projectile, basically a kind of a miniature black hole, makes a contact with a physical object (say, an alien race's space ship with the emperor of that entire alien race currently on board), the object gets this nasty desire to collapse into itself and blow up (something that alien race is most certainly not going to like).
Trendsetti thought it was funny. Mankind wanted to find a way to travel faster than light but accidentally invented a superweapon instead. Too bad they're probably going to have to use it as such very soon. | Si'kthwrn had come to the SI-66, but had broken down close to Setharis III, designation: WORLD. Unfortunately, her Tel-EM Drive had cascaded, causing a temporal rupture on her ship. Si'kth was lucky to escape with her life.
She skidded in through the doors of Crazy Dave's Intergalactic Transport Emporium, to the sound of horrifying tunes sizzling out of the audio systems. Her jointspines twitched painfully. She engaged her Babelfish interstellar app, and approached the Human. Her spiny song and quivering dance was translated in real-time into Human Secondary. "Hi, I'm looking for something that'll get me home, and I'm hoping you have what I need." She ended in a pose with her quad-arm pointing skywards, and her miliilegs standing in an 'A' shape.
Dave drawled back at her. "Well, ah guess I could give you one of mah rusbuckets for safe travel. Now, would ya prefer one of yer own type o'drives, or would ya like one of mah EEE-Special things fer Solo Passengers?" The Babelfish could quite translate through its movements the last part, so Si'kth just nodded.
Dave motioned for her to follow him, and pointed to a gigantic monstrosity, easily fifty times the size of her dead ship, with its Tel-EM drive. Now, this one here's fer yer long-range Homely folks. The reason it's so darned *big* is because it happens to have both a Gen-Yew-Ine first-generation Earth Tel-EM as a backup, but it's also a final-generation Mul-Tie-versal Dyson Void drive, used only fer folding Space and Time. ^^^^^^^^Caution: ^^^^^^^^this ^^^^^^^^is ^^^^^^^^as ^^^^^^^^sold."
Si'kth had little option but to purchase this monstrosity, as her Bredits were almost dry. She had to trust this...this...*antique*. And the dangers of Voidspace? Faugh! Only these fleshlings thought of doing something so reckless as traveling the Universal branes of existence! Never mind the fact that those strings help bind the multiverse together; these things were prone to explosion, catastrophic failures leading to entire ships being both smaller than a downquark and larger than the entirety of Reality-Sim! Talk about Reality-ending paradoxes!
Si'kthwrn decided she'd just hack it in the lot in the Juiper Belt, so that the Tel-EM drive was the Primary. She expected that all it would take is flicking a switch beneath the Dyson Void drive. | |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | The *Sunseeker*'s control room was dead silent except for the low *beep-beep-beep* of the deep space radar. The screen lights flashed a dim blue against the vast blankness of space, but nothing else moved, or breathed in the cavernous space.
A line of blue light appeared in the middle of the room, then expanded into a doorway from which stepped out three figures. If a human had still been present in the control room, they would have looked askance as the figures were too tall, too thin, and moved too fluidly to be one of their own. A living human might have been thrilled to catch their first glimpse of extraterrestrial life.
The humans in the control room, however, were far past caring the issue. Glassy eyes stared numbly at their consoles, and heads looked on fixedly, their motor muscles frozen instantly by the nerve pulse.
The first figure scanned the room for remaining traces of the weaponized blast, then sighed into its microphone.
"Looks like we got another dead crew. It seems like they still don't get it."
"Give them some credit, none of their crews has returned from a trip this long."
"Still, after sixty years of exploration? You'd think they would have given up."
One of the other figures shrugs. The movement brings its narrow shoulders all the way to the crown of its head.
"Humans will be humans. They are a stubborn species, that's for sure."
"Well, as long as it prevents them from leaving that backwater of theirs, I'm all for it."
The other figure hunches over to examine one of the dead crew members.
"Still, don't you think we should tell them by now? That their FTL drive can only decelerate up to a certain point before releasing that tachyon wave?"
"Weren't you listening? Leaving them ignorant is exactly the point. As long as they're stuck at 2c, it'll take them centuries to reach civilized space. Hopefully they'll have learned some manners by then. Bloody primitives..."
The hunched figure sighs, claps its hands together in the *macto*, then turns back to the gateway. The three aliens depart as quietly as they came.
** Three days later**
The alien ship is long gone, and the human vessel still floats in the vast expanse of space. It has waited the full three days allotted to its crew, before its automated safeguards took over.
The ship flashes blue, glowing like a briefly lived supernova, then disappears into the strange dimensions of FTL travel. After sixty years, the Human Exploration Corps finally developed a ship that could travel back to Earth on its own, and carry with it a recording of the tales of its crew. | Si'kthwrn had come to the SI-66, but had broken down close to Setharis III, designation: WORLD. Unfortunately, her Tel-EM Drive had cascaded, causing a temporal rupture on her ship. Si'kth was lucky to escape with her life.
She skidded in through the doors of Crazy Dave's Intergalactic Transport Emporium, to the sound of horrifying tunes sizzling out of the audio systems. Her jointspines twitched painfully. She engaged her Babelfish interstellar app, and approached the Human. Her spiny song and quivering dance was translated in real-time into Human Secondary. "Hi, I'm looking for something that'll get me home, and I'm hoping you have what I need." She ended in a pose with her quad-arm pointing skywards, and her miliilegs standing in an 'A' shape.
Dave drawled back at her. "Well, ah guess I could give you one of mah rusbuckets for safe travel. Now, would ya prefer one of yer own type o'drives, or would ya like one of mah EEE-Special things fer Solo Passengers?" The Babelfish could quite translate through its movements the last part, so Si'kth just nodded.
Dave motioned for her to follow him, and pointed to a gigantic monstrosity, easily fifty times the size of her dead ship, with its Tel-EM drive. Now, this one here's fer yer long-range Homely folks. The reason it's so darned *big* is because it happens to have both a Gen-Yew-Ine first-generation Earth Tel-EM as a backup, but it's also a final-generation Mul-Tie-versal Dyson Void drive, used only fer folding Space and Time. ^^^^^^^^Caution: ^^^^^^^^this ^^^^^^^^is ^^^^^^^^as ^^^^^^^^sold."
Si'kth had little option but to purchase this monstrosity, as her Bredits were almost dry. She had to trust this...this...*antique*. And the dangers of Voidspace? Faugh! Only these fleshlings thought of doing something so reckless as traveling the Universal branes of existence! Never mind the fact that those strings help bind the multiverse together; these things were prone to explosion, catastrophic failures leading to entire ships being both smaller than a downquark and larger than the entirety of Reality-Sim! Talk about Reality-ending paradoxes!
Si'kthwrn decided she'd just hack it in the lot in the Juiper Belt, so that the Tel-EM drive was the Primary. She expected that all it would take is flicking a switch beneath the Dyson Void drive. | |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "You need to stop this. Now." ~UTHQ
It seemed like a strange message from the UT at first, the United Terrans organization, formed by the world's leading space agencies to represent all of humanity and the Earth as we ventured out of the solar system for the first time.
But this wasn't from the UT.
It couldn't be. TRAPPIST-1 was 40 light years away from Earth. It had taken only 32 years to travel here in the DocBrown, a name chosen thanks to somebody's bright idea to let internet polls do the picking. Theoretically, the ship could travel even faster, possibly greater than 2c, but due to the still relatively unknown nature of matter at speeds >1c, the speed was capped at 1.25c for this mission. Earth would have had to have sent this message *8 years* before they left.
The tension in the recycled air was so palpable it was hard to breathe, a mixture of separate emotions so intense you'd feel like you might implode and explode all at the same time.
They had first braved the pounding tension of the "photobraking" deceleration maneuver as they approached the star system, where the DocBrown's FTL drive was shut down to allow *space-time itself* to decelerate the ship below lightspeed, the first-ever such attempt in human history. It certainly sounds sensible when you have a room full of mathematicians and physicists drawing it out for you, but while trapped in a ship barreling through the galaxy at +1c, you begin to wonder why they aren't sitting in your seat instead. The ship instantly began to rumble as soon as the engines were cut, louder and louder at a rising frequency. As speed dropped closer to 1c, gunpowder crackling sounds and bangs like metallic bones snapping abused the outside the hull. The blueshifted light through the front windows, turning more and more white, increased in luminosity, until in a blinding flash a deafening ***THUD*** broke the ship's runaway speed like driving into a brick wall. The ship's speed now read 0.87c, and all was quiet. Spacetime, and light, it seems, has something akin to sonic booms that come from violating the universe's speed limits.
To slow down further, the fuel tank, capable of holding 5% of the Moon's mass, had to be thrown away in a trajectory that would not impact any of the exoplanets dancing around TRAPPIST-1. The mechanism to do this was a nuclear warhead, and a 10km tether to draw out the acceleration force from being instantaneous. "Don't ask," one engineer said, working on developing this technology. "We've tested it. It works..."
After the maneuver left the ship's speed at a little over 0.51c, DocBrown's traditional engines took over to do the rest of the legwork, but the beauty shining in through the windows was so loud now it overpowered all engine noise into deafening silence. The cool dwarf star's system was a fertile playground of seven exoplanets, three of which were Earth-like. They had atmospheres, and their surface was a swirl of colors so exotic, made possible only by the mysterious artistry of the universe, that Jeb had to keep wiping the water from his eyes just to keep looking at it.
He looked over at Deb, who was also crying, and then at the rest of the team, they all laughed and came together to embrace.
In the joy and excitement of the moment, Jeb thought he had heard a barely-audible *ding,* but it was likely nothing. After the celebration settled down, Jeb went to the ship's console to make sure the warning wasn't something serious to do with the DocBrown's deceleration burn.
But it wasn't an engine warning. It was a direct message, from UT, from home.
"You need to stop this. Now." ~UTHQ
The emotions flowing in this moment made it difficult to discern what this meant, how is this possible? Is it possible? Jeb put his head in his hands and the team saw him struggling; they came over to see what the issue might be. Each member read the message and the ship once again became overwhelmed by a crushing silence, as each crewmate contiplated the unreal, impossible nature of what they were looking at. It *wasn't* possible.
Just as contemplations began to wander into darker, more impossible possibilities, their predictions were quickly narrowed down, by another received message: *(ding)*
"This is a warning." ~UTHQ
----------
**Edit: Part 2/3**
The tense atmosphere led Marcus, systems engineer for the mission, to sit down at the console.
"Who is this?" ~DocBrown
Their laser communications system was pointed directly at Earth, and it would take 40 years for the message to arrive there. The messages had been digitally signed with UT's signature. The team contemplated that their communications have been cracked, and hijacked.
"What do they want? Why the warning?" Mel sounded panicked, the lead biologist for the mission. "They want us to stop doing something..." Marcus mumbled, reading over the messages.
After a pause, Mel jumped up. "Do you think they live here? Do you think this is their system?" Dale, the radioastronomer, shrugged. "No chatter from this place. Our radio leak out to space for over 1200 year before we come here."
Marcus shrugged, and seeing no harm in trying, typed out:
"Is this sun your home?" ~DocBrown
As the message sent out, the team entertained a thought that maybe UT would be getting some funny messages in 40 years.
*(ding)*
"No." ~UTHQ
A chill fell over the air. Marcus got out of his seat and moved away. "What do they want?", Mel cried. Jeb spoke up, "Hold on, so far we're just talking. We don't know who they are yet, or what they want. They want us to stop doing something, so maybe we broke a rule, we just don't know about it yet."
Mel sniffed, but she was contemplating. "Maybe there's already life here, and it's against the law to mess with it?" Dale scoffed, "They mess with us!"
Marcus turned around, focused. "We need to know what we did wrong." He sat down at the console,
"What did we do wrong?" ~DocBrown
The crew watched as the message was sent out, anticipating the passing seconds.
*(ding)*
"Dumblfuckery." ~UTHQ
----------
**Edit 2: see below for Part 3/3**
| Si'kthwrn had come to the SI-66, but had broken down close to Setharis III, designation: WORLD. Unfortunately, her Tel-EM Drive had cascaded, causing a temporal rupture on her ship. Si'kth was lucky to escape with her life.
She skidded in through the doors of Crazy Dave's Intergalactic Transport Emporium, to the sound of horrifying tunes sizzling out of the audio systems. Her jointspines twitched painfully. She engaged her Babelfish interstellar app, and approached the Human. Her spiny song and quivering dance was translated in real-time into Human Secondary. "Hi, I'm looking for something that'll get me home, and I'm hoping you have what I need." She ended in a pose with her quad-arm pointing skywards, and her miliilegs standing in an 'A' shape.
Dave drawled back at her. "Well, ah guess I could give you one of mah rusbuckets for safe travel. Now, would ya prefer one of yer own type o'drives, or would ya like one of mah EEE-Special things fer Solo Passengers?" The Babelfish could quite translate through its movements the last part, so Si'kth just nodded.
Dave motioned for her to follow him, and pointed to a gigantic monstrosity, easily fifty times the size of her dead ship, with its Tel-EM drive. Now, this one here's fer yer long-range Homely folks. The reason it's so darned *big* is because it happens to have both a Gen-Yew-Ine first-generation Earth Tel-EM as a backup, but it's also a final-generation Mul-Tie-versal Dyson Void drive, used only fer folding Space and Time. ^^^^^^^^Caution: ^^^^^^^^this ^^^^^^^^is ^^^^^^^^as ^^^^^^^^sold."
Si'kth had little option but to purchase this monstrosity, as her Bredits were almost dry. She had to trust this...this...*antique*. And the dangers of Voidspace? Faugh! Only these fleshlings thought of doing something so reckless as traveling the Universal branes of existence! Never mind the fact that those strings help bind the multiverse together; these things were prone to explosion, catastrophic failures leading to entire ships being both smaller than a downquark and larger than the entirety of Reality-Sim! Talk about Reality-ending paradoxes!
Si'kthwrn decided she'd just hack it in the lot in the Juiper Belt, so that the Tel-EM drive was the Primary. She expected that all it would take is flicking a switch beneath the Dyson Void drive. | |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | “We must keep the Humans believing that their FTL system is unsafe, unorthodox and damn stupid. That is the point of this of this Special Hearing of The Supreme Council of the New Species Traveling Faster than Light. I am Farlack, Supreme Councilor of the Organization of Galactic Legal Advisors. ^(legal disclaimer: Norepresentationismadethatthequalityofthelegalgalacticservicestobeperformedisgreaterthanthequalityoflegalservicesperformedbyotherlawyers).
“Scarlacc, will you please read the minutes from the last session to allow this Supeme Council to aware of the latest current legal status of the Humans.?”
“Of course. That would be Sub-Section 7 of Section 30 of the 5th meeting of the Council of Dealing with and Controlling the Humans.
“It has been discovered that the Humans have developed a completely new FTL travel, with no related or similar technologies in the known Galaxy. The core of this FTL is a bubble of a universe where the speed of light is 1000 times faster than the speed of light is in our legally defined universe is pulled to our universe. The Human ships then travel at .1 c in this alternate universe. Upon exiting this alternate universe, the human ships have travelled 1000 times the distance in our universe. The energy expense of travelling in the alternate universe is the same as travelling in our univ-“
“Sarlacc, this Council is not interested in the technical aspects of the Humans FTL Technologies. That discussion is for the Galactic Council of Technology Equalization and/or The Council of Equalization of Galactic Technologies and/or Council of Galactic Technology Equalization. Ballzacc, will you present the Summary of the Social Legal Issues of the Humans Council meeting?”
“Of course. Due to the extremely dangerous situation these Humans create for us, I will dispense with extraneous discussion and proceed to the summary of the meeting, as permitted in The Rules and Guides of the Supreme Galactic Committee and The Guides and Rules of the Supreme Galactic Committee, version 2 of edition 5, Copyrighted.
“The Humans have a social system that may lead to our death and destruction. The humans developed their FTL without our influence and guidance, so we were unable to control their technology with the powers of the Galactic Patent Office. This failure was due to their rapid technological development. In the span of 6 human generations, they progressed from animal driven power to FTL travel. During the final Human pre-FTL travel, Humans revolted against their legal system and killed all lawyers allow-“
“They did WHAT?” interrupred Farlack. “How do they maintain their society without legal protections?”
“They became disgusted with a legal system that required warning labels to not drive their “automobile” with the windshield sunscreen in place. As I was saying, this allowed generations of research and development to be done in half a generation. And we can not control their technology.” Ballzacc completed his summary, terror beginning to creep into its face.
“Oh my supreme being. When the common people of the Galaxy learn of this… no lawyers…no lifelong Legal Guidance fees…” Farlack began to understand the lack of his future.
“Yes. This Council and all others, we will be destroyed”
“Yes, their technology is unorthodox, unsafe, and damn stupid, but for reasons the Galaxy must never understand.”
| Si'kthwrn had come to the SI-66, but had broken down close to Setharis III, designation: WORLD. Unfortunately, her Tel-EM Drive had cascaded, causing a temporal rupture on her ship. Si'kth was lucky to escape with her life.
She skidded in through the doors of Crazy Dave's Intergalactic Transport Emporium, to the sound of horrifying tunes sizzling out of the audio systems. Her jointspines twitched painfully. She engaged her Babelfish interstellar app, and approached the Human. Her spiny song and quivering dance was translated in real-time into Human Secondary. "Hi, I'm looking for something that'll get me home, and I'm hoping you have what I need." She ended in a pose with her quad-arm pointing skywards, and her miliilegs standing in an 'A' shape.
Dave drawled back at her. "Well, ah guess I could give you one of mah rusbuckets for safe travel. Now, would ya prefer one of yer own type o'drives, or would ya like one of mah EEE-Special things fer Solo Passengers?" The Babelfish could quite translate through its movements the last part, so Si'kth just nodded.
Dave motioned for her to follow him, and pointed to a gigantic monstrosity, easily fifty times the size of her dead ship, with its Tel-EM drive. Now, this one here's fer yer long-range Homely folks. The reason it's so darned *big* is because it happens to have both a Gen-Yew-Ine first-generation Earth Tel-EM as a backup, but it's also a final-generation Mul-Tie-versal Dyson Void drive, used only fer folding Space and Time. ^^^^^^^^Caution: ^^^^^^^^this ^^^^^^^^is ^^^^^^^^as ^^^^^^^^sold."
Si'kth had little option but to purchase this monstrosity, as her Bredits were almost dry. She had to trust this...this...*antique*. And the dangers of Voidspace? Faugh! Only these fleshlings thought of doing something so reckless as traveling the Universal branes of existence! Never mind the fact that those strings help bind the multiverse together; these things were prone to explosion, catastrophic failures leading to entire ships being both smaller than a downquark and larger than the entirety of Reality-Sim! Talk about Reality-ending paradoxes!
Si'kthwrn decided she'd just hack it in the lot in the Juiper Belt, so that the Tel-EM drive was the Primary. She expected that all it would take is flicking a switch beneath the Dyson Void drive. | |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | "So, about the humans..." Said a voice with diplomatic neutrality.
Groans from a myriad of different species' voices could be heard throughout the conference hall. There was a meeting being held on how to properly welcome these new, strange creatures now that they had, technically, at least, achieved Faster Than Light travel.
"We organised this meeting to discuss them! When are you all going to stop pussyfooting around the issue!?" The same voice declared, with a level of anger hard to believe considering their tone mere seconds ago.
"Blarpart, I know you're a workaholic and all that but have you SEEN these...creature's form of FTL "travel"?" A gruff voice from somewhere in the hall responded over the din of arguing and groans of "are we really fucking doing this?"
"I agree that it's...unconventional but-"
The word "unconventional" being used to describe human beings' method of intergalactic travel caused an uproar among the crowd.
"Hey! HEY! HEYYYYYY!" Interjected Blarpart with an odd mixture of rage, impatience and exhaustion. "It works for them, who are we to judge?"
"Don't you get it? They use possibly the most unstable thing in the universe, a wormhole, and pump it with a load of who knows what to make it last more than a nanosecond and to a greater size than a few atoms and just *sigh* go through it and hope for the best"
"As I said, uncon-" Blarpart thought better of using *that* word again and instead chose to deflect the conversation in the hopes of finishing and grabbing something from a Space Denny's on the way home.
"Ok, how about we just ignore them? They're not going to last long as a species if THAT'S how they traverse space. From our observations, their 'wormhole jumping' has about an 80% chance of failure. All in favour?"
A chorus of relieved "aye"s reverberated throughout the room.
"All opposed?"
...
"Well then, that settles i-"
"YOU FUCKING WOT, M8?" A voice shouted from just outside the hall.
"Can I go without being interrupted for ONE MINUTE?" Blarpart said in an exasperated sigh.
And with that, a duo of humans, one tall with brown hair and the other short with black hair, burst into the hall with their bottles of what they call "Mountain Dew" and bags of "Doritos" and started going on about how we can't "diss" them like that.
"You know what? Fuck these alien squares, wanna go piss into a black hole?" The taller one said.
"Yeah, dude. Definitely." The shorter one replied with an almost endearing level of excitement at the prospect.
And with that, the duo left as quickly as they had entered.
"What just happened?" A member of the crowd ask with a disbelieving tone.
"...Humanity. Humanity happened" said Blarpart, with yet another sigh.
Spelling and removing the pretentious "fin". | Si'kthwrn had come to the SI-66, but had broken down close to Setharis III, designation: WORLD. Unfortunately, her Tel-EM Drive had cascaded, causing a temporal rupture on her ship. Si'kth was lucky to escape with her life.
She skidded in through the doors of Crazy Dave's Intergalactic Transport Emporium, to the sound of horrifying tunes sizzling out of the audio systems. Her jointspines twitched painfully. She engaged her Babelfish interstellar app, and approached the Human. Her spiny song and quivering dance was translated in real-time into Human Secondary. "Hi, I'm looking for something that'll get me home, and I'm hoping you have what I need." She ended in a pose with her quad-arm pointing skywards, and her miliilegs standing in an 'A' shape.
Dave drawled back at her. "Well, ah guess I could give you one of mah rusbuckets for safe travel. Now, would ya prefer one of yer own type o'drives, or would ya like one of mah EEE-Special things fer Solo Passengers?" The Babelfish could quite translate through its movements the last part, so Si'kth just nodded.
Dave motioned for her to follow him, and pointed to a gigantic monstrosity, easily fifty times the size of her dead ship, with its Tel-EM drive. Now, this one here's fer yer long-range Homely folks. The reason it's so darned *big* is because it happens to have both a Gen-Yew-Ine first-generation Earth Tel-EM as a backup, but it's also a final-generation Mul-Tie-versal Dyson Void drive, used only fer folding Space and Time. ^^^^^^^^Caution: ^^^^^^^^this ^^^^^^^^is ^^^^^^^^as ^^^^^^^^sold."
Si'kth had little option but to purchase this monstrosity, as her Bredits were almost dry. She had to trust this...this...*antique*. And the dangers of Voidspace? Faugh! Only these fleshlings thought of doing something so reckless as traveling the Universal branes of existence! Never mind the fact that those strings help bind the multiverse together; these things were prone to explosion, catastrophic failures leading to entire ships being both smaller than a downquark and larger than the entirety of Reality-Sim! Talk about Reality-ending paradoxes!
Si'kthwrn decided she'd just hack it in the lot in the Juiper Belt, so that the Tel-EM drive was the Primary. She expected that all it would take is flicking a switch beneath the Dyson Void drive. |
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