Dragon

I did actually get that. Hitchhickers Guide is one of my absolute favorite series of books. I think my favorite little thing in them was the SEP Field or Somebody Elses Problem Field. It doesn't make your spaceship invisble per se but it makes everyone think it's somebody elses problem and as such everyone very carefully pays no attention to it whatsoever. That's just good writing!

giraffe

My favorite is Marvin, the depressed robot. "I have a brain the size of a planet and what do they ask of me? Pick up that paper clip, Marvin. Wipe off the table, Marvin. And I hate those automatic doors that say 'Thank You."

Doug

marg: "question of balance". I wasn't dizzy either, but if I were up there falling it would have been the same. Liked the way you showed the panic with some hopelessness, but then as if a hand extended to him the cable saved him from plummeting to his death. Very well done.

marius: "parking" Funny and true. Here in the burgh' we use chairs to claim out spot we've spent hours digging out. Loved the karma and meditation in your story and how the character was guided by it. Very calming story.

Doug

dragon: Now that's some serious meditating or maybe "serial". A great story with a delicate trail from peace to "murder". Loved the "jink in the universe"!

marius

Dragon, love your story! Shock at the ending, then bit of wondering that a person could do all that meditating and be a killer, then laughing at the wonder because as a good friend says, "Sittin' in a church once a week will no more makes you holy than sittin' in a hen house will make you a chicken."

marg, you are funny. Sorry I do not have that phone number but should I ever find it, will let you know. It could well be 42. ; ) [Goes off to add "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy" to reading list, which is strange cause know I read "Restaurant at the End of the Universe."

giraffe

The word count is 368 no title.

I'm a serious political blogger. I argue with 'looney libs' versus 'NeoCons' every day. I feel that there is no issue that is black and white. Some people are fiscal conservatives and also social liberals. When you look deeply, it's more obtuse than their easy way of looking at it, but it's a great way for some to avoid really understanding anybody individually. Us against them. Like a football game. Whose side are you on?

If words could only kill. Babana901 was my severest adversary. If I posted that the government was merely in collusion between corporations and their political puppets, Babana901 would come up with some reason to justify what they do. It made me furious.

I knew that if I could throw Babana901 off balance, I could easily slide in there as the winner of the debate. I could tell that Babana's biggest phobia was understanding the individuality of anything so I used that to set up the kill.

wraughn55: Don't you realize that this war is about oil profitteering?

Babana901: No. It's about reclaiming the Holy Land for Islam.

wraughn55: Whether or not you recognize the rights of Israel, don't you see that many innocent individuals are dead or maimed over these battles?

Babana901: As they should be.

wraughn55: Didn't Christ teach us that violence is not an answer?

Babana901: That was way before nuclear bombs.

As you can imagine, my blood pressure was soaring. As I sat at my computer, there was a jink in my heartbeat, but I continued. The candle I lit was still burning, so I knew that I was still alive. Now to kill Babana901.

wraughn55: Do you want your family and children to go to war and possibly never return?

Babana901: If they do that, it will be ridding the world of terrorism. I'll be proud.

wraughn55: Don't you think the insurgents are simply individuals who are tired of having American bombs dropped on them?

Babana901: Of course, but we are punishing them for the sins of their brothers.

I was hoping the fibrous tissues in Babana's heart were giving out.

wraughn55: Don't you feel at all ashamed for all the innocent deaths this has caused?

Babana901: No. We just invaded Iran. You fool. Bwaahahahaha!

That's when I died. It was better that way.

Doug

giraffe: Good story. I felt is was more about the utter hopelessness of arguing political points that have been argued and killed for for thousands of years. You brought a modern day bent to it and I enjoyed it. The real lesson learned from your story is shall I take a "clip" of the movie Wargames. Game over. The easiest way to play is to not play at all!

giraffe

Cool, Doug. I love it when someone points out something more significant than I was even thinking. Ahem!! Yes, I meant all of that. lol

ladyhwin

Just wanted to pop in and say you guys have done a great job so far!!! Doug, you did an awesome job with the word list. I'm working on something right now that I hope to finish in time. Keep it up!

Doug

You can put this story in the "WHAT?" category. It is just one of those things that "happens" when you sit down to write. Take it for what its worth or worthless. lol.

M*A*S*H Hits Home

Close your eyes….no really…I promise not to hurt you…

John sat in his easy chair watching old MASH reruns. It was his favorite show. As a matter of fact, he found it to be the best show ever made. Resting comfortably wrapped in a quilt his mom had made he envisioned being a part of the show.

He thought of the show as more of a documentary on the serious side of human life and the delicate balance we pretend to understand. Comedy and Tragedy…metaphors of horrific proportions all trapped in the lush green hills of Korea.

Fibrous tumors caused by a nerve gas agent creating gangrenous pustules that envelope the entire body of a hapless soldier….Posing for a Potter painting….It’s all relative I guess. Snipers jink back and forth to get the perfect shot hoping the crosshairs fall on a colonel.

Hawkeye dresses up as Groucho Marx with a cigar sticking out of his mouth vs. Macarthur with a fat cigar planning the next death march of innocent young lives.

It may seem obtuse to the average MASH viewer, but when the “camp” bugs out and heads for a large cave Hawkeye’s claustrophobia might have been just another cinematic attempt at pacifist satire. The great and powerful Dr. Pierce holds a candle praying for the lost souls surely to perish because of his phobia.

Frank Burns paranoia of everything and his constant collusion or conspiracy theories may symbolize mans modern day reaction to “terrorists” allegedly being encamped in every nook and cranny of the world so we have to be the “police” to the world. We hunt and kill with unmanned armed drones or the quiet shush of a snipers bullet.

I guess in the grand scheme of things it would be easy to say that LIFE IS MASH, but as I sit in this comfortable recliner, my thoughts and scribbled words MUST lead to action.

John moved from “his” chair, turned off the television and crept up the stairs to his bedroom where his wife already had retired for the night.

Close your eyes…No really….I promise not to hurt you….again.

giraffe

Doug. That was way cool. After peeling off all the layers of that onion, I'm left wondering 'Is it HIS chair?' That's a totally unique format. I'm stealing it. This one (like 'The Punishers') couldn't benefit from a sequel. You sealed it up well.

ladyhwin

hehehe, here I am with another teaser for my book. I don't like the way I've written it specially and the words don't run well together. I could have made this a two thousand word thing, but oh well.....


CONFLICT
She turned, eyes flashing. Jolan blinked, he was in a serious dilemma with no way to escape.
Marzena drew Medea and pointed. “Fight me, if you are not afraid.”
Jolan was not afraid, he had no real phobia of fighting Marzena, but he also knew there was no mortal who could hold a candle to her in skill, experience and passion.
Reluctantly he pulled Medryndl from its sheath and swung experimentally, but before he could prepare, Marzena was attacking form all sides at once.
Cursing his obtuse behavior, Jolan flashed his own sword. It took him but a few moments to get his focus then somehow manage throw his opponent back a pace and press an attack of his own.
From that moment onward, the duel was not only between swords and strength, but also between their wills. They whirled together, exchanging blow for blow, in perfect balance, expressions grim with the harsh struggle. Neither seemed to gain the advantage until Jolan jumped aside as Medryndl went spinning away.
Marzena stopped short, the strange fibrous cloak enveloping her body. “Well?”
The Master sighed. “Is there no way we can talk this out?”
“We have. Did it work? No.” Marzena spat in the dirt and lifted Medea again. The black blade did not gleam or shine, it simply was.
Jolan winced at her words. Somehow he always had to jink from her anger. He remained silent, trying to com up with some way to heal these old wounds. None were easy, all required much time and sacrifice.
“If you really want to talk, give me a few reasonable explanations for your collusion. If not, pick up you sword, let our blades cross and kill me.”
Jolan slowly picked up Medryndl but instead of preparing to attack, he sheathed the long blade and stepped close to Marzena. “I am sorry. I dearly wish to explain my actions of long ago. However, seeing as such a thin is impossible and since I would never be able to kill you, I take my leave.”
For that moment, they stood, some few inches apart, eyes locked, breath quickening.
Jolan attempted to speak again, lost his voice, forced down his hopes and turned away.

midnightpoet

here's a little bit of word vomit from the corner girl. 368 words, no title...

I scream in my sleep every night. Phobias are eating me alive. Alive. Alive. Dead....What am I? Where am I? Who am I?

My existence is in question and I can't find an answer. I'm lost. I'm scared. I'm alone.

I hang onto the fibrous fabric of my life as it slowly unravels. I'm losing my grip. Hang on. Hold on. Let go. Am I here? Am I floating? Am I safe?

It was all collusion, a con, a fraud. Lies, all of it lies, and I was tricked, I was fooled. I did it to myself.

I light a candle to break the dark that surrounds me, but the darkness swallows the light. Bright. Bright. Dark. Where are you? Who are you? Are you even there?

I must have been really obtuse not to see through it all, not to be prepared for this. I let it happen, and everything bad is my fault.

My breath catches in my throat like a jink in my lungs. Everything's so hard, why can't I go back to when it was easy...when the words flowed like water through cupped hands and I was able to set it all free. Free. Free. Trapped. Is this a cage? Am I bound? Where's the key?

Balancing on a precipice is a serious act of trust in the ground and in myself, and I lost my footing a long time ago, and I've been falling ever since.

I write this as I slowly lose my mind, I'm screaming inside, yet no sound escapes my lips. Internal anguish turns to silence and isolation, and I'm alone. Alone. Lonely. Loved. Can you love me? Will you love me? Has anyone ever loved me?

I'm filled with a burning hate for myself, for you, for everything around, and all of humanity, and there's no love left in the world. There's nothing left for me.

I've been abandoned by the last of my sanity. She packed her bags and drove away, without looking back. She never needed me like I need her, and now I'm babbling, rambling, and drooling with insanity. Insanity. Insanity. Calm. Will it go away? Can I find peace again? Will my mind ever rest?

giraffe

ladyhwin. It's obviousy an exerpt from your book so it doesn't matter whether it stands on its own. I kinda see where you're taking it - swords with names and old grudges and vendettas. I'm sure that with character development it's very interesting.

giraffe

midnight. I think you've well described the feeling of abandonment that most of us go thru at some point - if one has any feelings. I like that you ended it with a question "Will this ever end?" It always does. Or at least it subsides.

Doug

ladyhwin: Great observation by giraffe. I wholeheartedly agree. An excerpt. It really doesn't stand on its own. It was a good read, but we really don't know the characters.

midnight: BRAVO! That's all I'll say...maybe. I have one of my own I'm cooking up. If you cock your head the right way in that corner of yours you might catch a glimpse or a flash of something just beyond what you can truly perceive. That's where you find the glint of madness. It shines on the leather strap of that whip you hold so tight. Every cracked mirror in your room has floating whisps of visions in every shard. Warped images follow you any way you turn. So hide midnight. Make sure your corner is deep!

As for the rest of you....We better see some stories soon or I'll unleash my secret weapon. I just cast my spell on the corner girl and she's coming for YOU!

Doug

More like 410 words, but I am the moderator this go round so I can't pick myself. lol.

The Bagger

The sirens screamed louder than you can imagine, flashing lights reflecting in every direction casting their own 1970’s disco ball light show. Five cars on an icy road, the twisted metal and the smell of radiator fluid mixed with gasoline made my stomach sick. You’d think I’d be used to it. Grisly scenes were part of my life as a “bagger”. Officially, I’m a coroner, but the common person would see me as a bagger. When I do sleep I have some serious nightmares where I not only wake up in a cold clinging sweat, but I’ve also peed myself.

Not that you’re interested. But then again you are reading this. You’re the death monger who will slow your car down to catch a glimpse of a bloody hand hanging outside the door of a Chevy. Tell me you don’t! I dare you!

Anyway, five cars and one hell of an icy road is the “perfect storm” for death. There were thirteen occupants and only four survived. The other nine are scattered here and there stuck in various obtuse angles. I bagged up twenty pieces from the guardrail alone.

What a job I have.

Snap a few photos and pick up the last mortal remains of Harriet who lost her false teeth and most of her face too. Hair matted with congealed blood forming a drape over the saw tooth remnants of her skull.

Okay….I’ll stop!!!

I’ve piqued your voyeuristic vibes and now your stomach is ready to roll over and salute.

Mary had a little lamb…But what didn’t Mary tell her mother.

It’s easy to think beautiful thoughts and write hearty congratulatory words with a positive spin, but try to engulf yourself into the world of darkness. No balance beam to test your stamina or steadiness. Just a deep fissure where your very soul is caught up in man’s frailties and the devil lurks behind every phobia suffered by Sybil. I always confuse the two: Sybil and Regan. Sybil was the schizophrenic with multiple personalities, Satan possessed Regan, and her head spun around.

Its fleece was white as snow…

I know you think of me as mad, a raving lunatic babbling on so.

“Jink to the left; Jink to the right
Light a candle for the dead tonight”.

Collusion or collision, which is worse.

.

For tonight….I’ve done my duty…I’ve zipped it up per se. You can now return to your regularly scheduled program.

giraffe

Doug, Bang! Ya got me. You made it about a profession. I'm thinking up a reproach to all of the great stories that are happening. I can't be the TB anyway, since I'm out of town all of next week, but the writing is so fun.

giraffe

The word count is 368 Put on your funny hats for this one.

The phone rang again for the 5th time yesterday. I knew who it was. As usual it was Joyce, my disturbed client. She has serious issues and that's why she calls a psychic anyway. Sometimes it seems like the more I try to guide her, the more dependant she becomes. I use the Tarot to help her figure out major changes, but now she calls me from the grocery store or the ice cream parlour wanting help with easy decisions. Christ!! I'm just trying to read her cards.

Somehow my obtuse words make her feel balanced. If I agree with her decision to buy strawberry yoghurt, her phobia disappears until the next decision. She must think I'm sitting there with a crystal ball and a candle just waiting to divine her next choice of laundry detergent. What does she think? Someone put a jinks on Cheer? Tide is coming to the rescue?

At least she pays well. She comes from a very wealthy family who seemed like they were in collusion to pamper her to the point of idiocy. She can't make a decision on her own and I only charge her a dollar a minute for my advice.

"It was all very innocent, officer. She answered my ad for a Tarot / spiritual advisor."

"Then when did you start encouraging her to kill her husband?"

"I only explained to her that he didn't have her positive interests in mind. I never insinuated that she should kill him."

"BUT SHE DID, MISTER, and she says it was you that made her see the light."

"What are you going to do? I'm only a telephone psychic."

"You are now considered a co-conspirator in the murder of Mr. Riley. Please put your hands behind your back. You are under arrest."

I sat and sat waiting for Joyce to come redeem me from this fate. That never happened. She bought her way out of the charges and I was left with the life sentence. Being a telephone psychic can be a risky job.

Maybe I'll find a deck of playing cards in prison.

Doug

giraffe: That was not only funny it was cute too. Sorry to hear you are bowing out. I've enjoyed reading your stuff and I hope you continue to contribute or comment. Looks like everyone "ran" on us this time. Maybe the list was too hard or the word count too long. I think its time (only 3 days left) to unleash the "corner girl" or maybe she can summon the "bad boy" himself, her dad!