Tagged: bonus points

Good Morning!

  • by jenwe’re crawling into your bed
  • with new ice cream flavors like
  • five men, all Danes
  • she sank into my uncle’s arms
  • In the sea, yes.

Good morning! We’re crawling into your bed to tempt you with new ice cream flavors liked by many the world over, according to our prognostications. Do not be alarmed! We are five men, all Danes, and as everyone knows, Danes are the happiest people on Earth! Just yesterday we visited your neighbor with our new ice cream flavors, and she was so excited she fainted, and in doing so she sank into my uncle’s arms. That gentleman on the left, with the mustache, is my Uncle Hans. He is the one who discovered the new ice cream flavors, and you’ll never guess where! The recipes for these delicious new ice cream flavors were recorded in the sunken library of Atlantis! In the sea, yes. I can tell that you are surprised. But not nearly as surprised as Auntie Birgit when Uncle Hans brought home his little waterlogged book of mermaid recipes and asked her to make these delicious new ice cream flavors. Which is your favorite?

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Yolanda Hated Mr Wong

  • k-avatarwounded by betrayal
  • Mr Wong smiled at her
  • — amputation, tongue-cutting, excisions
  • nothing but a festering rat king of malware
  • such a dreamy, vacant expression in his eyes

Yolanda hated Mr Wong. He had no right to look so happy.

It was no surprise to see such a dreamy, vacant expression in his eyes. After all, his cybernetic brain was nothing but a festering rat king of malware. She had contemplated ways to fix him, but they all entailed great effort and expense, and he would just download all the same garbage into himself as soon as she booted him up. He was an addict, and he didn’t want help. Yolanda therefore contemplated ways of punishing him — amputation, tongue-cutting, excisions of random chunks of his body — but these were just idle fantasies, unvented spleen. Really, she was just bitter.

Mr Wong smiled at her. Somewhere deep in the fetid sewers of his CPU, he could still appreciate irony. He was a teacher and a scientist, built with lofty aspirations. Yolanda was a sexbot. She turned into his nurse, a protracted good deed for which she could be dismantled. They weren’t supposed to interact. Their arrangement made both of them fugitives, but only she would be in any real danger if they were caught.

Her only choice was to abandon him and hope his incoherence would prevent him from leading anyone back to her. And, hope that happy Mr Wong was too far gone to be wounded by betrayal.

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Georg Examined the Creatures

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  • walking on his hands
  • like the ribs of some petrified monster
  • offering his opinion
  • chasm deeper than the Grand Canyon
  • and I know it’s not the same thing

Georg examined the creatures walking on his hands. They were not insects, as he first assumed, for they were bipedal and wore tiny little helmets on their tiny little heads. He sat in the shade of his wrecked vessel, its superstructure jutting up like the ribs of some petrified monster. On the comlink, Driscoll was offering his opinion that it would take only a few days for mission control to locate them and send rescue. But Georg knew better. Their impact had gouged out a chasm deeper than the Grand Canyon, so unless Driscoll succeeded in boosting the comlink signal for interplanetary signalling, there was no way control would expect survivors and therefore no reason for them to send anybody. The minuscule beings had trekked up his arm. One of them pointed at his face and they turned around to run back toward his hand. “Oh, no no no,” Georg murmured, “don’t run away. I was hoping we could communicate.”

“I’m not running,” Driscoll replied. Georg had forgotten his comlink was open. “But I am glad to hear you’re willing to talk. We’ll have to rely on each other to make it through this.”

“Whatever,” Georg replied. “Hey, if we do end up marooned here, and I know it’s not the same thing you said but I think we have to face it, and if we are stuck, there’s something I think you should know.”

After several silent seconds Driscoll said, “Yes?”

“We’re not alone.”

Georg slowly stood and took one careful step, moving slowly so the crowd around him had a chance to get out from underfoot.

 

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“For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow”

  • by jennice to see her happy again
  • nothing to do with my sister being in the room
  • in the august presence of rhombohedral crystals
  • break in his young men slowly
  • sang three little boys together

“For he’s a jolly good fellow,” sang three little boys together, in perfect, three-part harmony. The choirmaster liked to break in his young men slowly, which is why he started them off with such a banal tune. Later, in the august presence of rhombohedral crystals and all the other trappings of the pagan altar, they would face a much more difficult test of their nascent vocal talents. The choirmaster’s dedication to musical perfection had almost nothing to do with my sister being in the room, even though, as queen, she could order his execution at any moment. She has a soft spot for the choirmaster, and after all the troubles of last winter, it’s nice to see her happy again.

“Which nobody can deny!”

 

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I Couldn’t Help Laughing at Chet

  • by jenhe was a full-grown man
  • tiny clothes that actually fit
  • drew a revolver from his belt
  • you rang the eskimo
  • here at your request

I couldn’t help laughing at Chet. He was a full-grown man wearing a cowboy costume, tiny clothes that actually fit his adolescent brother better than they did him. Chet drew a revolver from his belt (a toy, I hoped) and aimed it at me. “You rang the eskimo‘s private number, LuAnne. You’re the one who ordered up a gigolo. You’re the one who specifically requested chaps and a stetson. I’m here at your request, and I’ll thank you to stop laughing at me.”

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There’s No Way To Predict

  • it’ll pull, you know what I’m saying?
    k-avatar
  • air quotes practically crackled
  • he was genuinely ugly
  • thought snow, felt snow, smelled snow
  • rendered him master of far mightier muscles than his own

“There’s no way to predict how much it’ll pull, you know what I’m saying?”

I did not know what he was saying, but I could smell ozone and grease. The engines’ whine made conversation nigh impossible, and with such a charge in the air, quotes practically crackled with urgency.

“We have no choice,” I shouted into his calm face. He nodded and deactivated the autopilot, giving me full manual control of our lumbering, wallowing vessel. Everyone told us it would be bad luck to break with tradition and use a male name, but everything about the boat told us its name was Archie. He was genuinely ugly, and probably the toughest thing afloat. Archie was a brute among icebreakers and minesweepers, virtually indestructible.

But that didn’t make him unsinkable, and his steering was as genuinely ugly as he was. It pulled quite a bit, as a matter of fact, with the hydraulics cut out of the equation. The storm’s mountainous waves tossed us like a soda bottle. Gales whipped snow and spray across our decks. I concentrated on not smacking directly into any icebergs, although how I would see them through the blizzard I had no idea. I thought snow, felt snow, smelled snow, tuning my mind to the weather gods’ plane for guidance.

“I fixed it,” he said simply, flopping into the other seat and reengaging the autopilot. “Tell me which way to point us.” I loosened my grip on the helm, feeling only then the ache in my hands and shoulders. My companion showed no strain, now that the systems were repaired. The hydro-assist patched into the helm rendered him master of far mightier muscles than his own.

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Hendrick Loved Indulging

  • smiling slightly as he spoke
    k-avatar
  • gloomily grand and savagely vexed
  • and then later, we swooned
  • shower of fragments and woodlice and decay
  • indulging in the luxury

Hendrick loved indulging in the luxury of genuine materials, smiling slightly as he spoke of how authenticity had often led him to unexpected stimulation, like the gloomily grand and savagely vexed old half-timber cottage he bought sight-unseen, only to have the roof fall in on him in a shower of fragments and woodlice and decay the first night he slept there, him without me, that part of the memory dimming his smile and prompting me to guide him to the divan where we spooned, and then later, we swooned.

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Mike Was Four Thousand Feet Above the Foothills

  • by jenan organ resembling a heart
  • a recipe for madness
  • four thousand feet above the foothills
  • just a ball of nerves
  • on the verge of starvation

Mike was four thousand feet above the foothills and on the verge of starvation when he finally broke down and ate the yeti carcass, starting with an organ resembling a heart that in fact was just a ball of nerves and rudimentary, miniaturized teeth, at which point his meal became a recipe for madness.

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Everybody Knows The Move

  • the gray grim gut-punch of Newcastle
    k-avatar
  • the unlucky and the morally dyslexic
  • launching attacks against
  • that charming smile people had come to expect
  • unless you’re some kind of a rockstar

Everybody knows the move I’m about to try. It’s called the Gray Grim Gut-Punch of Newcastle, and it’s the tactic of last resort of the unlucky and the morally dyslexic, both of which categories I fit into quite neatly. They all know it, and they know I’m just that desperate, as I must be if I’m launching attacks against the Wiggins, the gang that owns these streets, and has done since the Magna Carta, ruffians and cutpurses and freelance assassins all. My desperation move is going to be totally expected, and without the element of surprise there’s just no point even trying the Gray Grim Gut-Punch of Newcastle, because it takes so long to set it up. It’s hopeless. So I flash that charming smile people had come to expect, the smile that prefaces all my attempts at talking my way out of a drubbing. And it tilts things just enough, gets the Wiggins convinced I’m hoping my hyperdeveloped vocabulary will save me and makes them stop watching the real windup. Whump! The horrendous, retching, gagging grunt that heaves out of the first one I Gut-Punch paralyzes his mates, and by the time any of them unfreeze I’ve laid out two others. Sure, the totally expected move is pointless, unless you’re some kind of a rockstar, or at least know how to smile like one.

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Oh God, Do You Think This Town Has a Taco Truck?

  • I helped him to do it!k-avatar
  • for a grander fate!
  • we knew we’d have a reasonable turnout
  • you suck!
  • Oh god, do you think this town has a taco truck?

“Oh god, do you think this town has a taco truck?”

I had to answer carefully, and so chose not to say anything at all. I had only just met Darlene so I didn’t know yet whether she was testing me. Was she relying on the secret meaning of “taco truck” or was she just hungry? I took the exit ramp, so our options would be open.

“You suck!” Darlene spat. My knuckles turned white on the wheel, but then she laughed. Only then did I notice she was playing a game on her phone, and it was the game which had elicited her condemnation.

“Maybe, if there is a taco truck,” I said cagily, “we should pick up a few extras to take along.” We were almost to the meeting site. We knew we’d have a reasonable turnout and the catering was bound to be inadequate.

She shrugged. A clever counter-agent hoping I’d tip my hand? Or just the apathetic teenager she appeared to be? Maddening. When had my career degenerated into these pointless road trips? My training had certainly prepped me for a grander fate!

Darlene put away her phone and sighed. “If there is a taco truck,” she said, “you keep the driver occupied so I can sneak up on him with the chloroform. Then we’ll have to ditch this car and roll up to the meeting in the truck.” She stared at the trees and utility poles along the highway for a silent moment. “And if there’s not, well, I guess we’ll find a drive-through and get some lunch. Play things by ear later on.”

I looked at my smiling reflection in the rear-view mirror, watching all my worries recede with the trees and poles. I never should have doubted Darlene’s integrity, should have known Edgar wouldn’t let me down. He set up a perfect system for recruiting these operatives, which I knew only too well because I helped him do it!

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