Prompt: A story about good or bad luck
Arthur Huxley walked briskly down the street towards the café. He had a two hour block set aside during the afternoon and he intended to spend every possible minute of it with Christine. He considered it his greatest piece of luck to have hired the beautiful receptionist and that he had drawn her into this affair so easily. I’m the luckiest man in the world, he thought as he hurried along the sidewalk.
Arthur didn’t notice the aging Jamaican he knocked aside. Scarecrow thin, with clothes that were once colorful and now faded, long dreadlocks and a sorrowful brown face, the man blended in with the dispossessed masses and the other crazies. Arthur was vaguely aware that the man shouted something about voodoo and made some sort of hand gesture behind his back, but this was New York. Everyone flipped everyone off. If he greeted Christine with a raised middle-finger, she might not even notice.
He spied her waiting just inside the café that was their rendezvous. In each hand she held a cup of coffee, as thoughtful in those little things as she was between the sheets. His mind raced ahead to the hotel where he would soon be experiencing her…thoughtfulness, but he was jarred from those pleasant thoughts by a white splatter of shit as some passing bird vented its bowls on the shoulder of his suit. His seven hundred dollar suit.
Arthur closed the last distance to his mistress cursing, the smile gone from his face.
“Hi,” he said brusquely.
“Here, let me help,” she said. Thoughtful.
Christine juggled the coffee, trying to hand him one of the small napkins that was curled around the cups. He reached for them, snagged one too quickly, and pulled the coffee cup from her hand. The lid popped ajar and scalding coffee splashed his hand.
“Motherfucker!”
Christine winced at the curse as much as for her part in burning Arthur.
“I’m sorry, Arthur. Really, I am.” She took the rest of the napkins more carefully and helped to wipe his hand. “I’ll go get some more napkins.”
He followed her inside and took the proffered napkins into the bathroom to clean up the bird shit. Well, these things happened, and it was only a few minutes. He still had most of the afternoon, and he was sure that as soon as he had Christine naked and squealing that he would forget all about these annoyances.
Except the faucet was broken. He wiped up the stinking crap as best he could with dry napkins and paper towels.
“Your sink is broken,” he accused the barista as he walked out of the café. “Let’s get out of here,” he told Christine.
“Looks like you’re having a bad day, hun,” She smiled at him and leaned close. “I’ve been thinking and…I’m willing to try that…that thing you asked about.” She blushed, looking very shy and very vulnerable. Arthur was considerably cheered and was half-tempted to throw her down and do that thing right there on the sidewalk.
He settled for a passionate kiss and a not-so-subtle grope. The screeching of tires and the honking of horns shattered his rising good mood.
“Arthur!?”
He looked around wildly, but the voice was clear. A car was stopped dead in the middle of the street, cars stalled bumper to bumper behind it, the cacophony of horns not loud enough to drown out the sound of his wife yelling. She stared out the window, leveling a gorgon’s gaze at Arthur.
“You bastard!”
Christine pulled away, the pretty blush gone, her cheeks pale now.
“I…I should go…” she stammered. Christine turned on her heel and trotted quickly away without looking back. Arthur knew that he’d never get her back in the sack now.
“Don’t bother coming home, you two-timing scum!” Arthur flinched, turning back to face his furious wife.
“Wait! Janice! I…I can explain!” He started towards the car, but the tinted window was already rolling up, shutting him out.
“Explain it to my lawyer!” With a screech of tires, Janice lurched into motion, smacking the side mirror against a parked cab and shattering it. She was driving his car of course.
“Wait!” Arthur stepped out into the street to give chase. He wasn’t sure what he could do to salvage this situation, but if there was salvaging to be done he would have to talk to Janice to do it.
Unfortunately, with the sudden dam in traffic gone, two cabs tried to slide into the vacuum. But Arthur had also stepped out into that space. He turned just in time to see the two cabbies looking, not at him, but at each other, multi-language curses flying, and then he was hit.
The crunching metal and the brittle snap that accompanied incredible pain blended together. More horns were honking, more people were cursing, but the only thing that Arthur could hear was one tall, scarecrow-thin man bending over him.
“Bad luck, mon…”
Friday, August 22, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
Death aint so bad
Ding dong!
The doorbell chimed cheerfully just before noon. Freddy waited until he had scored another ten thousand points before he paused his game and answered. Outside was a man about twice his age wearing an orange blazer, clutching a small black book to his chest.
“Good morning, young man!” The stranger beamed. “Is your mother or father home right now?”
Freddy rolled his eyes. The religious freaks always had a way of dropping in at just the right time to ruin your day, say, when you had almost beat the high score on Bloody Rampage 3.
“Mom!” Freddy closed the door on the missionary and shouted, rather than go looking for his mother. “There’s a man at the door in a tacky blazer with a death wish!”
By the time Sandra came in from the garden out back, Freddy had already trotted back to his room and the sounds of electric carnage had begun again.
“Hello?” She said as she opened the door for the man who had been patiently waiting outside.
“Good morning, ma’am,” he said, smiling brightly. “I represent the Church of the Underworld and I was wondering if I might have a little of your time this morning?”
Sandra chewed her lower lip for a moment. She wasn’t an atheist, but she wasn’t devout either. And the garden really needed weeding… but she hated to be rude. “Just for a moment.”
She served iced tea while he sat down on one end of the couch, facing Sandra in her recliner. “Ma’am, have you heard of the Church of the Underworld?” He smiled as she nodded. “Well, I’d like to tell you a little more about it, and make an offer to you.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to convert…” Sandra said, wringing her hands.
“Well, the question is, ma’am, are you ready to be saved? This world is a place of beauty and sorrow both. For every good thing that life provides, there is a cost and in the end we all owe.” He reached into a pocket and withdrew a pamphlet and slid it across Sandra’s coffee table. The cover was black and on the front was a cartoon caricature of a man shrugging. Above his head in warm red letters it said “Have you considered dying today?”
“All I want you to do is ask yourself ‘is death right for me?’ We all die anyways, but for most of us it’s after a long life of hard work and little reward. But what waits for us? The afterlife is a wonderful place with all of the beauty and none of the sorrow of this sad plane, especially for those of us who believe, who have a place there waiting for them.”
“Well,” Sandra hesitated. “I’m not very religious…”
“I understand, Ma’am. Changing faiths isn’t a decision to be taken lightly. And we would never want you to make a snap decision. Why don’t you talk to my partner, who can tell you a little more about the Underworld and what waits for you there.”
The missionary turned to his left and Sandra followed his eyes. At first she saw nothing, but as she strained to see what he saw, Sandra just thought she could see an intense coldness in the shape of a person. Whispers rose in the air, coiling around her like moths circling a streetlight.
She shivered and let out a small whine. Her eyes teared up and single teardrop welled up and ran down her cheek. “It’s beautiful…” she whispered.
“I know,” the religious salesman said. “I’ve seen it too, but I’ve decided to wait to make my journey there so that I can share my faith with those who suffer and don’t even know it.”
Sandra nodded in mute agreement.
“Why don’t you come to church this Sunday. You can hear Father Hulligan speak, and talk to the shades of those who’ve already reached paradise.”
“I…I think I’m ready to change faith…” Sandra said.
Freddy came out of his room, stretching. He was very close to beating the high score, but he was going to need another soda to make it. “Mom!? When’s lunch?”
He stopped in the living room. The man in the tacky orange blazer was kneeling on the floor next to his mom’s recliner. On the other side of the chair was a faint shadow. Both and man and shadow were praying and in between them, his mother slumped in her chair with the handle of an ornate dagger sticking out of her heart.
“Mom?”
The man got to his feet. “Your mom’s decided to change religion, son.” He tilted his head quizzically and smiled. “She’s much happier now. Tell me, son. Do you have a death wish?”
The doorbell chimed cheerfully just before noon. Freddy waited until he had scored another ten thousand points before he paused his game and answered. Outside was a man about twice his age wearing an orange blazer, clutching a small black book to his chest.
“Good morning, young man!” The stranger beamed. “Is your mother or father home right now?”
Freddy rolled his eyes. The religious freaks always had a way of dropping in at just the right time to ruin your day, say, when you had almost beat the high score on Bloody Rampage 3.
“Mom!” Freddy closed the door on the missionary and shouted, rather than go looking for his mother. “There’s a man at the door in a tacky blazer with a death wish!”
By the time Sandra came in from the garden out back, Freddy had already trotted back to his room and the sounds of electric carnage had begun again.
“Hello?” She said as she opened the door for the man who had been patiently waiting outside.
“Good morning, ma’am,” he said, smiling brightly. “I represent the Church of the Underworld and I was wondering if I might have a little of your time this morning?”
Sandra chewed her lower lip for a moment. She wasn’t an atheist, but she wasn’t devout either. And the garden really needed weeding… but she hated to be rude. “Just for a moment.”
She served iced tea while he sat down on one end of the couch, facing Sandra in her recliner. “Ma’am, have you heard of the Church of the Underworld?” He smiled as she nodded. “Well, I’d like to tell you a little more about it, and make an offer to you.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to convert…” Sandra said, wringing her hands.
“Well, the question is, ma’am, are you ready to be saved? This world is a place of beauty and sorrow both. For every good thing that life provides, there is a cost and in the end we all owe.” He reached into a pocket and withdrew a pamphlet and slid it across Sandra’s coffee table. The cover was black and on the front was a cartoon caricature of a man shrugging. Above his head in warm red letters it said “Have you considered dying today?”
“All I want you to do is ask yourself ‘is death right for me?’ We all die anyways, but for most of us it’s after a long life of hard work and little reward. But what waits for us? The afterlife is a wonderful place with all of the beauty and none of the sorrow of this sad plane, especially for those of us who believe, who have a place there waiting for them.”
“Well,” Sandra hesitated. “I’m not very religious…”
“I understand, Ma’am. Changing faiths isn’t a decision to be taken lightly. And we would never want you to make a snap decision. Why don’t you talk to my partner, who can tell you a little more about the Underworld and what waits for you there.”
The missionary turned to his left and Sandra followed his eyes. At first she saw nothing, but as she strained to see what he saw, Sandra just thought she could see an intense coldness in the shape of a person. Whispers rose in the air, coiling around her like moths circling a streetlight.
She shivered and let out a small whine. Her eyes teared up and single teardrop welled up and ran down her cheek. “It’s beautiful…” she whispered.
“I know,” the religious salesman said. “I’ve seen it too, but I’ve decided to wait to make my journey there so that I can share my faith with those who suffer and don’t even know it.”
Sandra nodded in mute agreement.
“Why don’t you come to church this Sunday. You can hear Father Hulligan speak, and talk to the shades of those who’ve already reached paradise.”
“I…I think I’m ready to change faith…” Sandra said.
Freddy came out of his room, stretching. He was very close to beating the high score, but he was going to need another soda to make it. “Mom!? When’s lunch?”
He stopped in the living room. The man in the tacky orange blazer was kneeling on the floor next to his mom’s recliner. On the other side of the chair was a faint shadow. Both and man and shadow were praying and in between them, his mother slumped in her chair with the handle of an ornate dagger sticking out of her heart.
“Mom?”
The man got to his feet. “Your mom’s decided to change religion, son.” He tilted his head quizzically and smiled. “She’s much happier now. Tell me, son. Do you have a death wish?”
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Joy Ride
When the T’sa finished watering the plant that fed the machine, the Sai’ash youth leapt onto the vehicle. It leapt onto its feet and bounded through the streets of Juraidia.
The joy-rider whooped as people scattered out of the way. One leg caught the awning of a fruit stand, tipping it and scattering fruit in the streets.
The machine crashed. He looked up, dazed, saw two figures standing over him. There was no mistaking the gods of justice.
“We gave you many chances to mend your ways, boy…”
“You will get what you deserve…”
The joy-rider whooped as people scattered out of the way. One leg caught the awning of a fruit stand, tipping it and scattering fruit in the streets.
The machine crashed. He looked up, dazed, saw two figures standing over him. There was no mistaking the gods of justice.
“We gave you many chances to mend your ways, boy…”
“You will get what you deserve…”
Monday, August 4, 2008
Laser
Prompt: Anything too stupid to say is sung
He’s half man and half machine
He is…a looting machine
A mind of steel and plots and plans
He’ll steal anything if he can
His name, you can’t even say
If you wanna live don’t get in his way
He can make a tank from an ambulance
The fuckin’ zombies don’t have a chance
He’s got a laser!
And he’s coming for you…
With his laser!
Look out for his laser!
He’ll burn you down…
With his laser!
He can’t move fast on his own two feet
He’s the strangest doc you’ll ever meet
His body breaks down more than Windows
But he leaves bodies wherever he goes
He’s got a laser!
And he’s coming for you…
With his laser!
Look out for his laser!
He’ll burn you down…
With his laser!
The Warbulance is in overdrive
If you’re a zombie, he’ll burn you alive
He steals the weapons and build ‘em up
Lasers and rockets, it’s never enough
Yeah, he’s the doctor
He’s got a PhD in looting
He likes slaughter
And zombie shooting
Yeah, he’s got guns
And a big fucking laser
Frying things is fun
He’ll fry you sooner or later
He’s got a laser!
And he’s coming for you…
With his laser!
Look out for his laser!
He’ll burn you down…
With his laser!
He’s got a laser!
It’s bigger than yours
Yeah, a laser!
He’s got a laser…
He’s got a laser…
Laser!
He’s half man and half machine
He is…a looting machine
A mind of steel and plots and plans
He’ll steal anything if he can
His name, you can’t even say
If you wanna live don’t get in his way
He can make a tank from an ambulance
The fuckin’ zombies don’t have a chance
He’s got a laser!
And he’s coming for you…
With his laser!
Look out for his laser!
He’ll burn you down…
With his laser!
He can’t move fast on his own two feet
He’s the strangest doc you’ll ever meet
His body breaks down more than Windows
But he leaves bodies wherever he goes
He’s got a laser!
And he’s coming for you…
With his laser!
Look out for his laser!
He’ll burn you down…
With his laser!
The Warbulance is in overdrive
If you’re a zombie, he’ll burn you alive
He steals the weapons and build ‘em up
Lasers and rockets, it’s never enough
Yeah, he’s the doctor
He’s got a PhD in looting
He likes slaughter
And zombie shooting
Yeah, he’s got guns
And a big fucking laser
Frying things is fun
He’ll fry you sooner or later
He’s got a laser!
And he’s coming for you…
With his laser!
Look out for his laser!
He’ll burn you down…
With his laser!
He’s got a laser!
It’s bigger than yours
Yeah, a laser!
He’s got a laser…
He’s got a laser…
Laser!
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