The End

F3 – Cycle 122 – Spring

Prompt: Write a springtime story about love using these words: Kiss, breeze, kite, skunk and mud.
Genre: Open
Word Limit: 1,300

If I ever write that novel this is going to be the last chapter. Sorry to let you all know how it ends.

The End (1078 Words)

Sappy, isn't it?

Sappy, isn’t it?

 

I hadn’t seen her for three months.

There had been text messages, phone calls and many, many drunk dials but I hadn’t viewed her with my eyes in 94 days. That’s what happens when you live on opposite sides of a state. Well, maybe not a state like New Jersey, Florida or Vermont, but Ohio is a little wider. Me being stuck in the northeast corner and her nearly in Kentucky hadn’t done wonders for our relationship. In fact it had all but ended it.

Then suddenly she came back.

There was no warning. No phone call. No text. No message on facebook. She just showed up at the door one afternoon in April with a kite and a picnic basket.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get some fresh air. You look like you could use it.”

I grabbed a jacket but found I didn’t need it. The winter had been colder and lasted longer than usual. The past few years had spoiled me with climate change, but the past month had been cold and I’d just put up the winter coat.

“How’ve you been?” she asked me.

“Fine,” I tell her. Nothing could be further from the truth. My days for the past few weeks had consisted of getting off work, eating a few over the counter sleeping pills and drinking a six pack. Except for on the weekends where I watched re-runs of “Scrubs” in my underwear until it was appropriate to go to the bar. Then I drank before I ate the sleeping pills. I couldn’t sleep unless I ate them. I’d just think of her.

I wondered what she was doing. I wondered how she was. I wondered who she was with.

I wondered if she still loved me.

“Do you know a good place for a picnic?”

“Of course I do.”

She’d left so suddenly. I worried. She said we’d stay together; that she was still mine. She said that she still loved me. But I started to doubt. For the first month we were in touch every day. We texted all the time and talked occasionally. Then in the second month we would text occasionally and talk rarely.

By the third month I gave up. I knew it was done. Her promises to come visit were broken by snowstorms, blizzards or a lack of gas money. Some of them I experienced myself. Most of them I check out on the Weather Channel to make sure she wasn’t making it up.

I could’ve just gotten my starter replaced. It would have been cheap and easy and then I could just drive to her. But that wasn’t the point; I needed her to come to me. How else was I to know that she was still mine? That she really did love me? She had to prove it by making the five hour drive.

“Turn left here.”

“OK”

I couldn’t fault her. When you find out your brother is dying you have to go spend time with your family. I would have done the same thing. I just didn’t know how I was supposed to deal with her being gone. I’d moved to different towns after breakups and started taking different routes to work but this was different.

She was completely and utterly out of my life. I didn’t understand how she could just pick up her entire life and move somewhere else, leaving everything behind but knickknacks and furniture.

I felt like an end table that had seen better days and was left on the curb. If I was lucky a lower class neighbor would take me in. If not I was off to the dump.

“Here it is. Turn right.”

“Here? This is a cemetery.”

“It’s a nice place.”

She drove through the mud and parked among the headstones.

“We’ll eat over there.” I pointed to the only corner that wasn’t populated by a recently tilled farm or occupied by a permanent resident. There was a nice sunny spot in the shade.

“What’s that smell? Is that a skunk?”

“Kinda. That’s manure. They put it out on the fields to help fertilize. Maybe this wasn’t such a good place for a picnic. I always liked the view. Never noticed the smell, I guess you get used to it after a while.”

“I never got used to it. I always hated that smell.”

“You spent all of your time here in town though didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Most of it.”

I didn’t know what to do. I wanted her to stay with me. To move in. to be mine again. But at the same time I knew it would never work. She was in town for a day. A week at the most. She had to settle things with the school that she wasn’t attending this spring. She had to pay her bill at the hospital. She had to pick up the few things she had left with friends. And she had to break it off with me.

“It is a nice view,” she said. A light breeze sprang up and I turned my attention from the rolling Appalachian hills in their fresh green to see it whipping her brown hair across her lips. She turned to look at me when I took her hand.

“You know I have to go back right? I’m not here to stay.”

I nodded.

“I wish there was another way.”

“Yeah. It’s rough.”

“I want you to come with me.”

I hadn’t been expecting that. I didn’t want to leave. “I can’t just pack up my life and move across the state like you can.”

“I know it’ll be hard, but I’d really like you to be with me. And he doesn’t have much longer to go. He’s fading fast. Once he’s gone we may be able to move back. Or closer at least.”

“I’m not sure I can leave my family. My friends. It’s a big leap for me. I’m scared.”

“I”m scared too,” she paused. “But I want you to be there when the baby’s born.”

I frowned. I wasn’t expecting this. This wasn’t part of the deal.

“I don’t want to go through this without you.”

“How long have you known?”

“About a month. I didn’t know how to tell you over the phone.”

I smiled as tears came to my eyes.

“So what do you say?”

Our lips met in the first kiss in three months. That was the end of my sleeping pill problem. 

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Family Man

F3 – Cycle 119 – The Good Guy

Prompt: Write a story using the photo of the business card as your inspiration. boris-good-guyWhat does it mean? Who is Boris? What do you do?
Word Limit: 1000
Genre: Mystery, Thriller, Suspense or any turn you make of this potential tale.
Deadline: Wednesday, March 13, 2013 at 9:00 p.m. ET

 

Family Man (984 Words)

Ivan always tried to be a good guy. He paid his taxes on time. He helped old ladies cross the street. He bought girl scout cookies and recycled.

So why he needed the help of Boris is anyone’s guess. But he took the simple business card that said, “Boris. Good Guy. Need Help? Call…” I don’t know why Ivan needed help but he picked it up after he finished his meal and tipped his waitress 20 percent. Then he headed out to the snowy city and called Boris.

They met in Boris’ ‘office’ later that week. It was an empty warehouse filled with used junk and debris that had been thrown away and scavenged to this location. It was hard for Ivan to retain his composure in this setting. He was used to office buildings and manicured hands. His three-piece suit was a stark contrast to Boris’ coveralls.

“So tell me about problem.” Boris said.

“Well, it’s an odd problem to have I guess. What I really want is some peace and quiet. Some time to myself.”

“You don’t get this all ready? Why is this problem?”

“Well… my wife is just a little clingy. And then there are the kids. It’s just so hard to get away. It seems like there’s always a recital to go to or someone needs help or the wife is nagging…”

“Stop. Stop. You break my heart. Why you don’t tell them you need peace? Set aside time for yourself. Go to garage for few hours. Go to weekend cabin on lake.”

“It’s not that easy. They just don’t stop. I’m not sure if I should even be talking about this with you. Maybe I should go see a shrink.”

“No, no. Shrink very expensive. Boris cheap. Work for donations. You pay what you think I deserve.”

“You manage to make a living that way.”

“Sure. Most people pay too much. They happy problem solved.”

“Really. Hmm.”

Ivan was beginning to feel a little more comfortable in Boris’ warehouse. His three-day beard and stained clothes showed him to be a person without any pretensions. And he seemed like he really wanted to help.

“So,” Boris said. “Wife nags. Kids drive you crazy. But you’re too nice to tell them all to fuck off for a day or two. You good guy. I think I can help. Let’s look around.”

They began to wander away from the desk and bikini girl calendar and meander among the filth. Bicycles, car parts, office equipment and books were scattered about. How Boris kept track of anything was a mystery to Ivan. Maybe he didn’t know what he was looking for. Maybe he was just wandering about looking for inspiration.

“Here we go.” Boris reached down and picked up a cage. The type used to hold a large dog during a long plane ride. “Put wife and kids in here. Leave them in garage. They no bother you.”

“No. I don’t think I could do that.”

“Why not? Too small? I can modify. We make big enough for whole family. I get you water and food dishes.”

“No. I really don’t think that’s appropriate…”

“Aaah. You right. They still make noise. Kids can be very loud. I know what we need.”

He rushed to a toolbox, grabbed a few items then returned to where Ivan was standing near an old couch and a pile of lamps.

“I use pliers to hold tongues. Then use this knife to cut it off. No sounds. Then you don’t even need cage. No tongue; no talk. Right?”

I'm good with hands. I solve problem.

I’m good with hands. I solve problem.

“No sir. I still don’t think that’s what I need.”

“Hmm. You tough customer. But I know what you’re saying. Even without tongue family can be very annoying. Maybe voice box removal? I see if I have any books on subject.”

“No Boris. I’m not sure you’re the right person for the job. Maybe I should check some other options out.”

“No. I can figure this out. I’m good guy. Just like you. Just give me some time. I get back to you in a few days, huh? Let me think it over.”

“OK. Thank you very much for your time.”

Ivan felt very lucky to have made it out of there without being maimed or mutilated. It wasn’t every day that someone advertised themselves as a ‘good guy’ then calmly spoke of cutting up a potential customers family. Ivan was thankful he’d met him at Boris’ shop and didn’t give any indication as to where he lived or worked. The thought of what Boris may have come up with in his absence horrified him. Torture? Rape? Murder?

Then one day Ivan saw him walking up the street toward his house.

“Ohmygod.” he said. “Honey! Hide the kids. Go!”

“Mr. Rolbek!” Boris shouted. “How are you? I found solution to problem!”

“Oh god,” Ivan said under his breath as he pasted on his plastic smile.

“I have answer to problem. Here you are.” He offered Ivan a duffel bag.

Ivan was terrified to open it. He had no idea what would be in there. Severed heads? Mustard gas? A time bomb? But when he pulled back the zipper he saw an Xbox 360 and several games.

“That keep the kids busy more than you want. Next time you see me to get their attention.” Boris smiled with pride at being able to solve the puzzle. Ivan’s plastic smile became real as he realized it was a good plan.

“What about my wife?”

“Oh,” Boris looked around to make sure no one was being nosy then reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic cylinder that tapered at one end. “Take C cell battery.”

Ivan reached for his wallet.

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Mapping the Heavens

 

 

F3 – Cycle 118 – Time after Time

Prompt: Write a story about someone time traveling, describe as best as your narrator can, whether he’s a common man or a brilliant scientist, the experience.
Word Limit: 1,600
Genre: Sci-Fi with a mash of whatever you like.
Deadline: Wednesday, March 6, 2013 at 9:00 p.m. ET

This is still a little rough. I wish I’d had a little more time to work on it but a big part of the fun of FFF is working to meet the deadline.

I’ve already thought of some changes I’ll make in a future version but if any one has any ideas feel free to share. I’m always open for suggestons.

So without further adieu…

 

MAPPING THE HEAVENS (1494 words)Sundial in Sand

Day 1

I leave on my journey today. Nothing exists for me on Earth any longer.

 

Day 462

I really can’t blame anyone else for my being out here. It was my choice. I signed up for this job. Its not like I’m stranded, but I’m so far away from everything that I know and anyone that can help me that I might as well be.

Why the hell did I ever do this anyway? Oh yeah, my wife divorced me and I had a midlife crisis and decided to become an astrocartographer. ‘Go out and map the heavens’ they said. ‘Adventure of a lifetime’ they said. The poster should have said ‘be bored out of your freaking mind for three years.’ A three year tour. I’m floating in space for three years.

Well, at least I’ve gotten a bit more than the first one down. Fifteen months. That’s leaves only 21 more months to go.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I could talk to someone, but nothing travels faster than light. I’ve been traveling at about three quarters of the speed of light for nearly 15 months. That means I’m about a light year away. Something like that. The training was pretty thorough but I’m still no rocket scientist. Just a low level button pusher.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I could get a newspaper. But the ones they send me don’t get here fast enough and I know from my clock and calendar that the USA Today I’m reading is over a year old. It just makes me feel disassociated from everything. Then again I guess I am. You’d have to be crazy to take on a job like this.

At least I’m too old to have signed up for the big jump. Going out for eight or even 10 years. Them young bucks have to be crazy to do that. But they go in pairs or threes so they have someone to talk to. And someone to bicker with. I learned all about that in marriage. Someone to love and someone to hate. I guess It’s my fault that it fell through. I should have stayed away from Stacy.

But she was just so perfect for me. What I wouldn’t give to be able to go back and make things right. No with my wife. To hell with her. She was an insufferable bitch. But with Stacy. She was the girl I should have been with. She was the girl of my dreams. But alas, she’s too young and already married. And her religion will never let her get a divorce.

So I just decided to go on the worlds longest vacation (not counting the higher level astrocartographers) and in the past year and three months I’ve cataloged 43,000 meteors, taken samples from three comets and measured the elemental composition of my surroundings 462 times. If I don’t get some action or adventure soon I’m going to go nuts. Then again, if I do get some action and adventure I’m hardly prepared for it and I’ll probably die.

Stranded in space. Three years. And the crazy thing is – it was my decision.

 

Day 643

Today I glimpsed one of the greatest mysteries of the solar system: a black hole. It’s very hard to see. I can only tell that it’s there by the way the light is bending around it and the utter darkness at the center. Its almost like looking at a convex mirror at a supermarket. I can actually see light bending into it and where it disappears in the center. The event horizon. I’ll have to read up on some of the literature they’ve given me and review some of the videos. They had me watch them and I was tested before being sent out, but a review can’t hurt. I was an accountant for twenty years, it’s not like I can be expected to learn all of the nuances and subtleties of space travel in the several months of training I received. After I’ve done my elemental composition check I’ll bring them up on the video screens and double check some stuff.

Finally, after nearly two years charting asteroids and comets and writing ‘mostly hydrogen’ in this stupid log book I’ve come across something special. Something unique.

 

Day 644

The astrocartographer manual and training videos all have the same thing to say about black holes: Stay Away! They have plenty of theories about the physics involved in black holes but nobody seems to know for sure what is actually going on inside them. I’m curious to find out for myself. I’m tempted to enter the black hole and see where it takes me. Of course, all the mathematics concerning the equation tell me that I’ll die by a form of torture involving immense gravitational pulls called ‘spagettification,’ but it still seems like it would be fun to see what’s inside.

Haven’t humans always been focused on looking over the horizon? In this case it’s just an event horizon.

Of course I could just swing around it. Use its immense gravity as a sort of slingshot. Maybe then I could break the light barrier and travel back in time. People have been trying to do that for a few years. Those are just theories but I could be the first to actually test them. I’d return a hero! First person to travel faster than light! It would be great.

And the best part. I would have a future with Stacy.

This deserves some food for thought.

 

Day 645

After I’m finished with this entry I will place the pages of my log into a pneumatic tube and shoot them toward Earth. Then I will use the black hole as a slingshot in an attempt to break the light barrier.

If anything goes wrong, the hole is located in section 9-49-ht-g. And tell Stacy I love her.

 

Day 646?

I’m not sure if my experiment worked. I felt an increase in thrust but passed out. Now All the timekeeping devices on my ship are now broken or flashing 12:00. My calendar is now offline and my copy of USA Today has not arrived. Many other controls are not working such as my speedometer and odometer, but my solar sails still seem to be operating. I’ve decided to head back to earth. I’ll take my findings to the higher ups and physicists back there. They can try to make sense of it all.

 

Day 1100?

I’ve finally returned to earth. After over three years away it was great to see that big blue marble again. I crash landed in the Atlantic, not far from Florida and am now waiting for pick up. I’ve radioed base and they are now on their way out to get me. Soon I’ll be able to turn over my log and resume a normal life as a civilian. I never thought I would say this but it’ll be great to return the life of an accountant.

 

Day -7216

My experiment worked. I’ve traveled close to twenty years backwards through time. I’m now being debriefed and answering questions on what happened during my travels. The top brass tells me that this may take a while, but I am ecstatic. I will finally get my chance with Stacy! The perfect girl for me.

Also, I seem to have regressed in my aging. I’m now physically twenty years younger than I was when I left. I can’t wait to get out of this little box and back to a normal life.

 

Day -7203

It seems to be taking a little longer than expected. I’ve been given comfortable lodgings but I’m forced to stay here indefinitely.

 

Day-6758

I’ve finally been released. I will now travel to my hometown with my new wad of crisp money and find Stacy. I can’t wait to begin my new life with her.

 

Day -6326

Asked Stacy to marry me today. This is the happiest day of my life. I’m sure it will only get happier!

 

Day -3278

Things in my marriage are no longer going as well. We don’t talk as much. We don’t get along. I’m hoping things will get better.

Physically I am still healthy. My accounting job sucks.

 

Day -2464

Stacy filed for divorce today. I’m miserable once again.

 

Day -1698

Alimony due next week. Don’t know how I’ll pay it. Better look at another job.

 

Day -865

They’re reviving (beginning) the astrocartographer program. I’m tempted to try it out again, but I’m not sure. I guess I have an advantage over anyone that’s trying out today.

 

Day -283

Signed up for astrocartographer program again. Received my old number. Due to length of time I’ve been out of the service I need to complete training once again. After that I will leave on a three year tour.

 

Day 1

I leave on my journey today. Nothing exists for me on Earth any longer.

 

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fiction Friday, Science Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Out the Back Door

Out the Back Door (782 words)

 

old-man-doorI’ve never understood how sometimes a person can know something but not have any proof to back it up.

Sometimes it seems that the particles in the air just take on a different charge. You can’t see anything out of place or know that anything is out of the ordinary, but you know that something is different. Something has changed. Something is wrong.

Past experience goes a long way toward fashioning these feelings. The first time I walked into this bar I didn’t feel anything out of place. Now I’ll get here and sit down. Have a drink or twelve and somewhere in there I can feel whatever it is that shifts in my own corner of the universe shifting. I suddenly know that something is amiss. It’s not that somebody new walked in or they ran out of my brand or the baseball game on TV is being postponed due to rain. It just is.

It first happened a while ago. I’d just moved to the area and RNS Bar was within walking distance. I was looking for a drink so I walked down to the corner of Front and Broadway and stepped inside. The place isn’t nothing special. It’s just like a hundred other corner bars I’ve been in in my life. But when I walked back out I wasn’t in New Philadelphia anymore. I was in Stanwood at the home of my old babysitter. I stepped through a door and wound up 30 miles away from where I was on the other side. I don’t know why it happened. When I tried to step back the door wasn’t there. I was stuck on that front lawn that I hadn’t set foot on since I was a little boy and I had to call my wife to come pick me up. Boy was she angry. And how was I supposed to explain what had happened? There was no way she was going to believe that the corner bar was a magic teleportation station. If I told her that she’d probably make me start going to those godawful meetings again.

So I kept my mouth shut and always made sure I had money for a cab ride. For a long cab ride. And over the years I visited places that I’d been earlier in my life and some that I’d never seen before. It was always the same. I’d walk in, get drunk and walk out to some different place. The front door seemed to be the only portal in the place. I’ve gone through the door to the men’s room countless times. I’ve gone into the ladies room a few times too. Hell, once I even pissed in the broom closet. I’ve been to the kitchen and the game room (although there’s not really a door separating them from the rest of the place) and I’ve been in the apartments upstairs. But the only time the portal in the place seems to be the front door.

It’s taken me places I never wanted to return to: my grandmother’s funeral, to my fathers drunken rages, to Iraq. It’s also taken me to memories I’ve had a strong desire to relive: birthday parties, graduations, meeting my wife. It’s like my whole life has passed before my eyes through the walking in and out of that door.

It’s weird how the truth finally hits us. When we finally figure something out. You don’t know how you know when something is a lie and when something is true. Sure, you can watch a persons pupils and heartbeat and all that, but deep down inside the best proof that someones telling the truth is in your gut. Intuition is more effective than any machine. So that’s why I know I’ve got to tell this tale.

I’m not supposed to use the front door. I’m supposed to use the back.

This bar is something of a way station. A pit stop on our way to the next life. I’m not sure how long I’ve been dead or even how I died. I’m sure if I keep going out the front door I’ll eventually figure it out. I’ll see myself growing old. I’ll wind up in doctor’s offices and jail cells and hospitals. I’ve finally figured out why I transport. And I’m finally done with it.

So after I finish this beer I’m going to stand up, walk to the men’s room and relieve myself, pay my tab and walk out the back door. I would have done it a long time ago if I knew the deal but there ain’t no handbook for this type of thing.

It’s one of those things that you just know.

luigi-schiavonetti-an-old-man-enters-death-s-door_i-G-17-1739-XBJ3D00Z

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Cyberpatriot

F3 – Cycle 111 – In The Not Too Distant Future

Prompt: Write a 1.300 word or less crime story set in the not too distant future on New Year’s Eve using the Cyberpunk genre as a backdrop (think Blade Runner or Dune). Use at least 3 Cyberpunk words.

Not really sure what to say about this one. I haven’t read any William Gibson yet (though I plan on picking something up at the library later). Hopefully it’s within the style and you enjoy it. I had some fun writing it though it was a little bit more difficult than I’d anticipated.

Cyberpatriot  (1144 words)

Sitting @ my cpu isn’t the first place Id choose 2 b on New Year’s Eve. But I have work 2 do.

Congressman Cotillard will continue trying to push through his internet censorship bill in the new year and he must be taken down. There is 2 much @ stake. Freedom 4 1.

I don’t know where he got the idea that we (being the US) need to police the internet. I don’t even know how u police the internet. It’s not like u can put cop cars on ethernet cables or have FBI agents looking at porn websites 2 c who searches 4 “underage.”

But this is the society we live in. This is the society r 4fathers built. Weve all been raised on the internet and text messages and instant access to any information we can imagine. And now theyre trying to take that all away. But we wont let them will we?

They always try 2 put up these roadblocks 2 the free exchange of ideas but they dont take into account ppl like me. The hackers that make this stuff work and know how to tear it down. They come to me when their hard drive is on the fritz or to help them install Windows Millenium b/c they cant figure out how to do it. I write software to make their lives easier and help them 2 run their companies. They give me the toys to play with then try to take them away. But I know how to keep my toys.

They ban certain websites in other countries I guess. In Germany it is illegal to go onto Nazi websites. China heavily censors internet access 4 its citizens. But not here. They cant do it here. And I’ll tell you why. Because weve already seen what is behind the curtain. We already know whats out there. And we can use it against them.

Information is power. Just ask J Edgar Hoover. That’s why they want 2 take it away. Not because of some pretention of being in a ‘Christian’ society. That’s y college is so expensive. Info is power. And it is to b guarded & protected at all costs.

Most nights I use my cpu 2 pirate movies and TV shows from Sweden. C, Ive got a great setup with a VPN so everything I do is routed through that country b/c they have the most lax copyright laws. Verizon doesn’t know what’s going on, they just see a lot of info comking from Scandanavia. I can get just about anything I want, its beautiful.

But that’s not what Im doing 2night. 2night I need 2 do something special. Something meaningful.

Congressman Cotillard is proposing a bill that would severly restrict internet access in this country. He would shut down several high level sites that are important for the free flow of info including Wikileaks, infowars.com and youporn.

I might not agree with what these sites are saying but I’ll fight 2 my death their right to say it.

He wants to ban pornography and opposing political views online. What he doesnt understand is that this is the internet. 1 of the things that makes it great is that anyone can anonymously post something derogatory about the party in power with impunity. It’s the greatest bastion of free speech anywhere in the world. There is nowhere else u are granted that kind of freedom. Ive heard that the internet was even used to topple gov’ts in the beginning of this century.

And I just like porn.

So before I go 2 the party of the year happening down the road I have some work 2 do. I’ll hack into the cpu’s at the County Sheriff’s Office, they have a big case they’re working on right now. 1 of the coaches @ a local high school was videotaping the boys basketball team in the locker room as they showered. Oh my. He would have gotten away with it but he wanted to share on the internet. Tsk Tsk. When will these perverts learn. Its all there for the taking but u have to be careful. Even online ur only so anonymous.

So a quick hack into their database will allow me to download the videos that this oddball teacher had on his cpu. I’ll have hours of underage boys showering in the school locker room. Not really the kind of thing i generally get into but I need it right @ the moment. After Ive downloaded it I’ll send it to the good Congressman’s cpu. Another great thing about the net is that is allows us all to connect. I can get into his cpu as easily as I can log in to gmail. Nowadays you don’t even need to have a phone line to do this. Were all already connected.

Of course this isn’t enough. No 1 gets caught just having underage porn on their cpu. U have to share it. So the good Congressman is about to become a member of several websites that his bill looks to muzzle. GonzoXXX.com, PornHub and of course Youporn. A bit of poetic justice to end the career of 1 of the most dangerous people in our country since Joe McCarthy.

I like 2 think of myself as a patriot. 1 of the last defenders of freedom of speech.

So I click download. I ckick send. And faster than u can say ‘clipper chip’ Ive downloaded several hours of perversion. I use the same credit card the congressman did when he boughtPegging 5: A Strap-On Love Story” from AdamEve.com to make his membership on the smut sites. It seems fair. He doesn’t use that card very often. Just 4 those special purchases. Then I upload. And upload. And Upload. I do this all from my cpu in the midwest but tomorow when the FBI breaks down his door in NYC they wont know that. Sure theyll b able to prove some1 did some thing eventually. But by then his reputation will be tarnished. He wont b able to get elected dogcatchher.

And it doesn’t really matter anyway does it? It’s all a means to a greater end. We have 2 remain free. Especially at the expense of people who think theyre trying to protect us. Theyre the most dangerous.

I wish I could have just uploaded the video on his cpu of the sick stuff he does with his wife. Or his mistress. Or his young aide. Of course things like that aren’t illegal. Yet. They might be if he were to make senator. So I’ll just stop him now. I’ll commit my little crime to prevent his greater 1s.

Now that it’s done it’s time 2 hit the road. It’s New Year’s. A time for new beginings. Let’s eat drink and be merry. Tomorow is a brighter day.

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A View to the End

F3, Cycle 110: 12/21/12 Forecast–HOT, With No Chance of Rain…Ever…

Prompt:  Write a story using words that we have been hearing a lot recently.  They are:  End, apocalypse, fireballs, zombie, alignment, famine

Genre:  Any

Word Limit:  1,221 (for real)

It’s nice to be back at the flash fiction after an absence  and this was a very fun prompt to write about. Hope you all enjoy it.

“A View To The End” (1221 Words)

Meteor_shower

As I’ve never been one to miss a good show, December 21st 2012 found me on the hill overlooking the city locally known as “The Point.” I was there to see the apocalypse and that’s just what happened. See, the end of the world did come that day, just as the end of the world comes everyday for a few people. Don’t believe me? Read the obituaries in your local newspaper. The end of those peoples world came just the day before. Just as the end of mine came on the winter solstice. I didn’t die but my world ended just the same. Just like after the end of humanity the earth will go on. There may not be life as we know it, cockroaches and Twinkies may survive, but overall the planet will most likely just be a burnt-out husk. A rock floating through space with no life. Just like what I am now.

You see, the 21st found me parking my car on the side of the road and taking the trail up to the point to get the best vantage point for Armageddon I could imagine. It was a short walk. Only about a mile. But it was rough that day. Not because I was infirm or out of shape, but because I was carrying a heavy load of supplies. I had 2 fifths of vodka and a fifth of Wild Turkey. I also had a gallon of orange juice, a gallon of water, a carton of Pall Malls, an eighth of weed, a sub sandwich, a bag of chips, a box of oatmeal cream pies, a 9mm handgun and a ten strip of what I was promised was very good blotter acid.

I hoped I wouldn’t be needing all of this stuff. The gun especially. But I was preparing for the end of life as we know it so it seemed appropriate to err on the side of caution. I put on my backpack and set out. But not before I put the strip of acid in my mouth and began to chew. Best to get the party started.

It was about two in the afternoon when I reached my destination. From there I could see the Walmart, Sheetz and Burger King. It wasn’t downtown, but it was close to the freeway and the best bet for action on a day like this.

I poured a screwdriver into one of the cups I’d brought and gathered firewood. It was cold and I didn’t think I’d need to stay past midnight, but that was hours away and the sun would be setting soon. I’d hoped to have some company for this show but all my friends had to work or were busy with girlfriends. I didn’t see the point of that. This was the apocalypse, a once in a lifetime event. I’d used a sick day.

It didn’t take me long to get bored. By 8 pm I’d eaten the sub, half the chips, smoked three joints, and drank most of my booze. I should have been seeing strange shit by default but instead I was sitting there waiting for the drugs to kick in beside a dying fire. That’s when it all started.

I thought it was just a meteor shower at first. There were brilliant pinpoint of lights coming toward town from the east. I thought they were just shooting stars so I wished for the apocalypse and that’s just what I got. By the time I realized it was overcast and starting to snow they became brilliant fireballs. They crashed into the edge of town in radiant flashes and mushroomed into the sky with debris from homes and businesses. I saw my ex-girlfriend’s house engulfed in the barrage and let out a whoop. I was standing and cheering when one crashed into our Walmart and destroyed a fortune of cheaply made consumerism manufactured in the third world. One destroyed the freeway overpass and cars plunged to a heap of wreckage and gasoline fires.

I had a moment to reflect on what this would mean for me. For one, I would be able to get home without fear of being pulled over for drunk driving. I had a view of the biggest bonfire this town had ever known and I planned to enjoy it. I also knew that my apartment on the south side, far from where the fireballs had crashed, was stocked up on ramen noodles and cans of chef boyardee so I would be able to escape the coming famine. I was close to the river so I would have fresh water and I’d even opted for a pad with a fireplace so heat wouldn’t be a problem.

God it was beautiful. No more traffic jams.

When I heard a rustling in the trees behind me I didn’t think much of it at first. I wasn’t the first person to come to the point with pot or alcohol (though I may be the last). I had my 9mm in my waistband and a joint between my fingers. I would have been happy for some company. I hoped it was Patrick. I’d told him he shouldn’t go to work at Walmart that day. I was surprised to see two zombies in police uniforms. I’d thought the fireballs were just runofthemill destruction but they must have contained radioactive materials that turned normal citizens to brain eating mutants. I’d never thought the zombie apocalypse very probable, but I wasn’t unprepared. I took a shot and hit the first in the chest. His partner ambled behind a treeand out of sight. I guess they weren’t as stupid as George Romero wanted us to believe.

I couldn’t help turning back to the conflagration. I’d always hated this town and was excited to watch it burn, but when I turned I saw the same sight that had been there for the past several hours. All the buildings were still intact. The freeway traffic was flowing smoothly. People were doing their Christmas shopping. My exe’s house was still intact. I heard more feet behind me and turned to see an army of zombie police closing in.

“You wont get my brains that easy, bastards,” I shouted. I had three magazine for the gun and was a good shot. I wasn’t going down without a fight.

It took me by surprise when one of the zombie cops pulled his gun and shot me in my shoulder. I didn’t think they could shoot that well. I didn’t think they could shoot at all. But down I went, with all the booze and drugs in my system there was no way I could stand a blow like that.

The good news is that they declared me mentally unfit to stand trial for the murder of the officer I killed. Temporary drug-induced insanity. The bad news is that I’m stuck on the top floor of a mental hospital for an indefinite amount of time. Oh well, it’s got a good view of the town. Just about as good as the one from the point. So maybe there will be a planetary alignment sometime soon. Maybe at the spring equinox. And the drugs they give me here are just about as good as that acid I took on the end of the world. I hope…

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Lonely Stranger

American Thanksgiving is now nearly upon us.  Along with the food and the parades and the football comes all the joy and horror that family gatherings entail.

Prompt:  Write a story that takes place on Thanksgiving Day, but please EXCLUDE the following words:  Turkey, stuffing, football, parade, family.

Genre:  Open

Word Limit:  1,000 words

I managed to get one out this week. My computer is still on the fritz so I’m using my prospective mother-in-laws. I’ve managed to do some good work.

This week’s prompt is one of the hardest I’ve encountered at FlashFictionFriday. I think I’ve pulled it off rather well. Remember that this is a work of fiction. It’s not about my actual life but a life I dream of.

Lonely Stranger (650 words)

There are some things you never get used to when you travel for a living. One of the most annoying is the question: do they have the Fourth of July in other countries?
Of course not, I tell them. They go from the third right to the fifth. There are only 365 days in the year in America. Other countries only get that on leap year.
The sad part is that most people give me a blank look and don’t get the joke.
I’ve been all over. Afghanistan, Iraq, Russia, South Korea, Norway, Brazil. Wherever there’s a good story brewing or trouble cooking they send me. Not because I’m the best at what I do but because I’m willing. I’m always looking for travel. I love it even if it does get lonely sometimes.
I’ve worked for the Associate Press for about eight years. In that time the job has been my life. My articles have been my children and flight attendants have been my wives. They’ve always cooked for me and brought me beer, anyway.
Sometimes I envy my colleagues that have settled down. There are quite a few of them in New York, Washington and scattered across the Middle East and Europe. It’s funny how we don’t have many in Africa, China or South America. I guess if people don’t look like us or want to blow us up they’re not newsworthy.
But those aren’t my decisions to make. I make the decisions about what is most newsworthy about a missile flying out of Gaza and heading for Tel Aviv. I worry about how to make that situation like that sound equally exciting to a fat redneck with no college education in southern Ohio, a cattleman in rural Texas, a mechanical engineer in Eugene, Oregon and an English teacher in Orono, Maine. Because they all see my work. Even if they don’t know my name, they know me.
I’m the eyes and ears of the American people. I come over here and sit in this tiny cafe eating matza balls on Thanksgiving so everyone else can be at home with their loved ones but still know what’s going on over here. I let them know what they need to know.
Sure, sometimes I wish I’d led a different life. I wish I could see my mother more. I wish I could hear my native tongue more. I wish I could sit around on a holiday and watch the game with my dad and brother. But this is the life I’ve chosen and it suits me well.
So I wander here and there. Stopping only long enough to write a few paragraphs. Sometimes longer. My book is due out in July. You should read it.
I can speak three languages fluently and a scatter of a dozen others. I can order a Big Mac in Arabic, but I often use a translator.
You don’t know me. You wouldn’t recognize me on the street or on your television. But you trust me with something more important than your life.
You trust me with your information.
Yet there are no celebrations for my homecomings and I won’t get a flag draped over my returning coffin if one of Hamas’ missiles hits home. The best I can hope for is an actual byline instead of just a dateline saying BEIRUT or GAZA STRIP. Hopefully I’ll make it home for Christmas. If not I’ll be happy to be celebrating Hanukah. I try to be thankful. After all this is the life I’ve chosen.
I love it and it loves me.
So I’ll see you soon. You may even find me today if you’re paper runs on holidays. I’ll be on the nation/world page. Between the car ads and senior living section.
I’m the one risking my neck so you know what goes on outside your door. And I’m thankful for that.

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