dreadcrumbs

Friday Fives

Five Situations In Which Attaching An Accreditation Acronym to Your Name Won't Make You Sound Like A Shiny Red Afterpart

1. You don't actually possess the accreditation in question
2. It changes your last name into a completely different word (Alberto Mias, MA)
3. You can visibly be identified as someone with nothing to live for
4. You are a year or a time of day
5. The lack of attached letters to your name would somehow endanger the lives of innocents (Dean Hale, RMSF)

Microstory Monday

The Pitch
The room is quiet as I wrap up my presentation. I'm not yet sure if that's good or bad.
"So that's it," I say.
Fred Mirsch from Marketing suddenly stumbles off his chair and appears to vomit into the room's trash bin with a coughing retch.
No one says anything. They all seem to still be watching my demo video wrap up.
"Freddy?" I call out, now a little unnerved. "Are you okay?"
Tracy from accounting lifts her hand to indicate the video, now just showing a few sparking embers.
"That...that...man," she says.
"Mr. Collins' brother?" I ask.
She nods, and I hear Collins mumble "Jeff. His name was Jeff."
I look around the room, and at last realize what their problem must be.
"Oh!" I say, laughing. "We didn't really burn Mr. Collins' brother to death! It's just a cathartic simulation."
"A...what?" Tracy asks, and I try to suppress a groan. They obviously didn't listen to a word I said.
"A simulation." I say. "That's the whole idea. To provide people with a way to witness the realistic suffering of a target individual without actually having to harm that specific individual."
"Oh." Tracy says.
"It's a mental health tool," I say.
Fred settles back into his chair, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Maybe...maybe we could we see it again?" he asks.

Friday Fives

Five People I'm Pretty Sure Aren't Hiding in My Basement

1. Prince Felipe Juan Pablo Alfonso, heir to the throne of Spain (I have his personal guarantee)
2. Daniel Webster, Former U.S. Secretary of State and Prominent Whig (He's dead, finally.)
3. Ambrose Bierce, author of "The Devil's Dictionary" (contrary to popular belief, NOT dead)
4. Jean Kasem, president of the Little Miss Liberty Round Crib Company and wife of the Lebanese magus Casey Kasem. (who, also contrary to popular belief, IS dead. But very mobile.)
5. Nancy Farmer, young adult fantasy author (who knows that I appreciate the attention, but if she violates the restraining order again, she'll be in jail for a very long time)

Microstory Monday

Sprucing Up

My Mother's sparse gray hair drifts out from her head in long wispy patches, each strand swaying slightly in a breeze I cannot feel.
"Brush me!" she screams. "Brush me, Janet!"
I look down at the wire brush she's given me, its stiff bristles standing out at awkward angles, clearly more suited to scraping rust off a car engine than grooming an old woman's hair.
"Mother, I..." I start, but she whirls around with a speed I no longer thought her capable of and grabs my right hand, the one holding the wire brush.
"Brush! Me!" she cries, jerking my hand toward her head with each word.
Dropping my hand, she pointedly turns her back to me again, and I sigh.
"Go!" she screams again, her shoulders shaking.
Clenching my teeth, I raise the tool to her head and start to brush.

Friday Fives

Five submissions I made to my workplace's "Name Our New Deli" contest that are, alas, the least likely to win:

1. The Meat Hutch
2. The Second Deadly Sin
3. Bread and Flesh
4. The Feeding Pit
5. The "Now There's No Reason For You To Ever Leave Work" Cafe

Microstory Monday

Calling Home

After three rings my father answers the phone.
"Yeah?" He says.
"Dad?" I say. "It's Henry."
"One minute," says my father, and then, away from the phone, "Henry's on the phone, honey."
I can make out some kind of clattering sound followed by a long curdled shriek, and then my father comes back on.
"Your mother wants to know if you're eating enough," he says.
"She does?" I ask. "Is that what she said?"
"More or less," my father says.
"Is Mom mad at me?" I ask.
"Ah, not really," my father says. "She's just...hungry."
"Hungry?" I ask. "Is something wrong, Dad?"
"That virus makes things a mite difficult, but..." my father says, and then I hear him yell, away from the phone, "Git! Get away from her, Scooter!"
"Dad," I say. "What virus?"
"That one that makes you want to eat folks," he says. "You know."
"Makes you...!?" I say. "Are...are you guys okay?"
"Git, Scooter!" he yells, and then, muttering, "Damn dog."
"Dad!" I shout. "Are you okay?"
"Hm?" he says. "I'm okay, but your Ma caught it."
"What?" I say, stunned. "Why didn't you tell me? Why isn't she in a hospital?"
"Nothing to be done," he says, and I can almost hear his shrug over the phone. "Besides, the hospitals are overrun, anyway."
"Over..." I start, but am interrupted by sharp barking and a loud whine on the other end. I hear my father shout, and then groan.
"Dad!" I shout. "Dad!"
"I'm here," he says. "Your Ma just got Scooter, though."
"What?" I ask. "Got Scooter? Got him how?"
"Ate him," he says. "Eating him now, anyway. Chain was too long, I guess."
"Mom...she...I...I don't understand," I say.
"I told you son, it's that virus. People all over got it. It's so a body can't even walk the streets without fear of getting bit. Broke my shovel 'cross that Jenkins boy's head just yesterday. You went to school with him, didn't you?"
"Uh...yeah," I say. "Greg. His name was Greg."
"Well, anyway. Nice to hear from you son," my Dad says. "I'd best clean up this mess now."
"Okay...I...uh...wish Mom a happy Mother's Day." I say.
"Talk to you soon, Henry," my father says. "Be good."
"Bye, Dad," I say.

Friday Fives

The Five Reasons I Know Other People Exist

1. That smell has to be coming from somewhere
2. You aren't me, at least for the time being
3. I'm not lonely
4. I am awarded 25 quatloos each time one of my drill thralls wins a match
5. I can see them and everything I see is real