Shell, Gas, Station

A small shell that formerly housed a snail. Two fish calling that shell home. One fish who ate the fish equivalent of a large bean burrito with spicy sauce. The other fish who has no fingers to pinch off the smell…

“Jesus, Gary! Could you at least point your ass in the other direction?”

Gary’s flatulence might as well have been laughing gas, given his reaction.

*snort* “Uh… yeah… sorry…” *pppphhhhhlllllaaaaapppppp*

Jose looked up at the surface. “What kind of food did the human put in the food station? Chilli powder?”

“Don’t know. But it’s tasty!” Gary readied another fart.

Zombie, Locust, General

“Professor Arthropoda, my staff tell me you have a harebrained idea to combat the zombie invasion. I’m out of rational solutions, so let’s hear it.”

“You must be aware, General Zabuta, of the idea of group mind within insect colonies. What I’m proposing is proliferating that power…”

“In English, Professor.”

“I can train locusts to attack zombies. With their attacking of the undead, they will induce untrained locusts to do the same. What’s more, they’ll release a pheromone that will cause all insect-kind to attack.”

“When can you release this weapon?”

“First I need to train the locusts, then…”

Annul, Trash, Justify

“Jill, I’ve got the client on the phone. They want the text of their magazine ad to justify right - they think it’ll make the ad more visually attractive.”

“Gary, the text is trash! They insisted they write the ad copy and… you know what? Justify it right. I don’t care. I want Legal on the phone after you’re done there; let’s see if we can annul this contract and get these guys off our ass.”

Gary leaned over to whisper to Jill, “They’re on speakerphone.”

Jill made sure to speak loudly. “We don’t want your business anymore, capeesh?”

Gary grinned.

Medium, Olive, Slumber

Madame Margot, voice to the voiceless beyond the grave (the colourful scarves she wore proclaimed as much), snored loudly while she slumbered beneath an olive tree. The caravan she’d joined the other day had thrown her off - they called her “Medium Medium” - an obvious sign they didn’t appreciate her talent of feeling the delicate flows of the aether… *sigh*. To be honest, she had an ability to separate money from easily fooled fools.

In her dream, a sardonic smile spoke at her. “Your time has come. Awake and make ready for the Lady and young Prince who’ll be here soon.”

Moist, Layer, Drift

At the International Musicians Conference, a teenage rocker and an elderly composer of baroque minuets met at the bar:

“Tanqueray Malacca neat, please.”

“What is that shit?”

“This, young man, is the finest gin I have ever tasted.”

“Uh, yeah. Gimme a Pabst Blue Ribbon.”

The old man rolled his eyes. “There are layers of flavour, delicate sensations that help my mind drift from the cares of the day. That swill you’re drinking is literally liquid bread.”

The young man shook his head. “Hey man, lay off the hating. Moist is moist and I can down these easy.”

“Ugh. Philistine.”

Discrete, Flow, Goose

In an amazing confluence of linguistics and ornithology, the language of geese can now be translated into English. A microphone was planted on a goose during migration and this is what it recorded:

“Hey hey hey hey…”

We then edited the tape to find more interesting bits:

“Why are we flying into the wind? Can we simply go with the flow and fly east, not west? Can we? Hey hey hey…”

The deeper into the journey, the conversation turned more… irritable…

“…it’s not rocket science, Roger! Statistical interpolation of food supplies is a continuous function, not a discrete answer! Geez!”

Constitution, Incapacitate, Brilliant

Crap. What does it take to stop this guy? He found my secret lair, is slaughtering my henchmen, and is now approaching my command centre with alarming speed. And he was doing this while flashing a brilliant smile!

Sounds of fighting are getting louder and are distracting me. How do I incapacitate this guy? Poison gas in the corridors? Ah, won’t work - his constitution is probably way too strong. No… I need to fight him with my mind.

The sounds of fighting are outside the door. My mind keeps telling me I need to escape. So… I’ll go with that. 

Stamp, Thin, Uptake

The new machine in the postal office was designed to be a labour-saving asset, a cost-effective solution, in the world of postal processing. After spending hundreds of hours researching the machine and spending millions of dollars on the purchasing and installation, problems began to emerge.

If letters are too thin, the alignment gets thrown off and the stamp that is supposed to mark the postage as used misses completely. If the letters are too thick, it jams.

The uptake on it all was that it was money and time wasted. But the purchasing team all got promotions.

Move, Fast, Stuff

When you decide to move, to change apartments in the same building, it sets off a series of possibilities, of planning, of potential future events. What I didn’t foresee is a conversation that went something like this:

“I want to move.”

“Yup.”

“Today.”

“Uhhhh… ok…”

A brief discussion with office staff later, I had the keys and by the afternoon about half our stuff was moved. It’s moving fast.

One sticking point was the plan to put a large fish tank in the living area. Less than 48 hours later, it’s there. Here. In the living room.

My head’s spinning.

House, Label, Change

“The problem we’re facing in selling your house is that it’s just outside Stonybrook, which is where people want to live. But I have an idea: what if we change the description of your address slightly so that we, in effect, put your house in that area. The only bad thing is that you might be labeled by buyers and their agents as liars, but since you’re moving out of the area, that shouldn’t matter. What do you think?”

The Smiths looked at each other. They knew their house was more than ten miles from Stonybrook, but gave the ok.

Pursue, Title, Quilt

How the wheels have survived the journey so far astounds me. Nurse and I have been closed up in the pitching carriage for the better part of a week, covered with a warm quilt. It will be with great relief that we exit this bouncing, freezing box when we arrive at Mrs. McKinnon’s Finishing School for Young Women.

Already, at age 11, potential suitors are pursuing me. My father, in sending me here, hopes to secure the best match he can for myself and the family. I might even acquire a title. My dreams are filled with silks and jewels. 

Satisfy, Volume, Neighbour

In my bartender’s class, we learned that the shape of the ice makes a huge difference on the cooling effects of a drink. What you want to do is have the lowest surface area to volume ratio you can manage (the ice melts the slowest that way, therefore not diluting the drink, thus a way to satisfy the most discerning customer).  The greater the number of sides, the lower the ratio, until you get a spherical ice ball - that’s the lowest of all.

My neighbour has an ice tray that makes little ice balls - he’s way ahead of the game!

Incredible, Below, Prime

Daneesh set the handset gently into the cradle. After hours on the phone negotiating with a SVP from First National Trust, he had incredible loan terms. Stretching and uncramping his screaming back and shoulders, he put the CFO’s assistant on speaker.

“Is Mrs. Denali in? I have good news.”

“No sir. She’s in a meeting. Would you like to hold?”

He didn’t, and instead sat outside her office for more hours, waiting. At last, the meeting door opened and the CFO said to his rival, Preeka, “Great job! Four points below prime!”

Daneesh slunk away - he’d only managed two points.

Illusion, Loop, Outlook

Las Vegas. Sin City. The place to make his name, The Amazing Sardini, known. Gone were the days of 6-year old birthday parties in Des Moines and busking in rail stations in Munich (he missed the German beer…). This was it! He was in the city where he’d become rich and famous and even more rich! Hadn’t he created the Loop Illusion, a trick that made it look like a lasso passed through the entire watching crowd? People loved it! The outlook on his career was limitless.

But he had no money. Time to busk in the bus terminal.

Bat, Ball, Plate

Vlad was trying to juggle his plate, silver (it was safe - that’s werewolf stuff), napkin, and goblet as he made his way around the buffet table. Victoria, hosting the Crypt Warming Party, watched as he struggled.

“Vlad, vat are you doing? Vy don’t you set that down on your coffin, then come back for the buffet?”

“Ah, Victoria, my dear. If only I could become a bat and fly it over. Walking back and forth is too much like a ghost haunting a cemetery.”

“And are you having a ball?”

“Yes, next month for Halloween. *chuckle* Yes, I’m enjoying myself.”

Delegate, Continue, Apple

The life of an apple is intense; mine especially so. I am the Chosen One, the Delegate, the continuing life of all apple-kind. I’ve got my landing spot targeted, all there is now is the wait for the drop. You may notice other apples on the tree, but they are decoys for squirrels, birds, and humans. Destiny is on my side and I am ready.

I am… hey! Get - get off me! Wait… WAIT!!! GAH!!!! No… no… n… *whimper* There’s been a mistake! I don’t belong in this bin with all these other apples! Let the Apple King go!

Dance, Risk, Evolve

I often wonder how a thug’s life evolved, how I can walk the streets openly in my hoodie with no risk, despite the hoodie being the uniform of a thug. With the hood down, I’m a law abiding citizen. Hood up, I’ve clocked in, ready to ply my trade.

Hood down, I spot my mark. Hood up, I closely follow and make contact. He tries to dance away but I pin him to the wall with a knife at his neck, grabbing his wallet and phone.

Crap! He’s a cop and my hood’s up. Busted on the job. Not good.

Crust, Frozen, Instant

It was that time of year again. Fred knew it wouldn’t be good to go out, however, his supply of coffee was running low and that meant a trip to the store.

The ground was covered in a frozen crust but Fred wasn’t fooled. He knew Mud Season was in full career and that lying just under that bit of frost was several inches of stinking, sucking mud. He hoped it wouldn’t go over his boots.

He’d managed six steps to the car when, in an instant, he was knee deep in brown goo. His boots only went ankle high.

Sprout, Lacks, Sound

Life is precious. All life. To prove this, we decided to mike a seed for sound and listen in on a newly planted seed as it sprouts. This is what our team found:

Day 1 - Said “roots” repeatedly.

Day 7 - Pod exited soil. Complained about how bright it is.

Day 10 - Extended leaves. Said something about a “green parasol”.

Day 15 - Extended more leaves. Apparently one parasol wasn’t enough.

Day 22 - It notices the microphone. Starts looking for the camera.

Day 37 - Complains it’s only appreciated for the size of its beans.

Day 51 - Demands a PR team.

Day 73 - Lacks “alone time”

Business, Pout, Look

“Arnold, look - I’m not trying to pry into your business, but I’m your father and I need to know that you aren’t doing drugs, ok? And if you are doing drugs, then I want to help you kick them. This is important both to you and me. If you’re hurting, I want to help. If you aren’t doing well, I want to be a part of making it better. Ok? Oh don’t pout! When you have kids, you’ll understand, but for right now I am your father, you live in my house, and… don’t you give me that look, Mister!”

Mill, Thrust, Utilize

School trips organized by Concordia Elementary run the gamut from the usual (zoo, library, museums) to the unusual (factories, cemeteries, structures such as bridges). This is due less to the influence of the teachers and administration and more to do with student interests.

Jenny Wetherbee, age 10, during a tour of a flour mill pointed to a piece of equipment and asked the guide, “How many pounds of thrust is generated at full capacity?” The guide looked lost. Jenny looked impatient. “Can you at least tell me what you utilize to mitigate the fire risk from friction?” The guide couldn’t.

Trial, Survive, Rough

“The life of the tribe depends upon the lives of the members of the tribe. It’s vitality comes from our vitality, it’s strength from our strength.

“To become a full member of the tribe, you must pass this trial. All the men of the tribe have done. You will too. When the moon passes through all its phases and is full once more, you will be welcomed back as a man.

“Survive. Thrive. Make us all proud.”

The young man bowed to his grandfather, shouldered his gear, and headed off. Lightening flashed. His trial was destined to be rough.

Fill, Tray, Shun

Gilbert had given it a lot of thought and didn’t see a flaw in his plan. He told his friends what he was going to do: some of them thought it was cool (if a little weird), others decided to shun him (while watching out of the corners of their eyes).

When his turn in the lunch line came, he approached the burrito bar server. “I don’t want a plate. I want a burrito that fills the tray. Please.”

The server’s eyebrows shot up but he eyed the tray, then started to work. It took eight tortillas, but was delicious.

Restless, Poor, Transform

First Counsellor Khan stared down at the restless crowd gathering at the base of the high rise that housed all governmental functions from an outdoor patio. Her ministers looked worried.

“I don’t see why you are all anxious. They are unemployed, poor, sick… we must respond appropriately. We must transform this to our advantage. They want work. Let’s give it to them.”

The ministers still looked nervous. One spoke up, “Ma’am, the mob is angry. We might be in danger.”

The First Counsellor looked imperious. “What?! Nonsense. They are sheep. Let them bleat.”

Glass smashed and the crowd surged.

Poke, Temper, Vague

It’s hard being different, marching to the beat of your own drummer. Why is it that society is full of “Normalicy Police” who viciously nip at heels to try to keep people in line.

Ryan Wrenolds, age six, likes to draw people and clothes, much like a fashion designer. One brutish fellow student, however, pokes him mid-sketch, ruining his straight lines. Ryan keeps his temper, showing remarkable control, while he seethes inside.

He only has a vague idea for how he’ll do it, but Ryan has vowed sophisticated revenge on the bully. 

Cut, Copy, Paste

I hate arts and crafts - mostly because I’ve never been good at it. Kindergarten is full of arts and crafts. Safety scissors cutting construction paper was torment: they’d twist in my hand, hurting my fingers. One project called for us to make a traffic light. The other kids cut perfect circles out of green, red, and yellow paper. I never go the hang of turning the paper, so I hacked off corner after corner, trying to copy my neighbour’s work, but ending up with very uneven polygons pasted to a black rectangle. Ugh - I hate arts and crafts.

Tooth, Load, Scramble

The Dragon’s Fire rollercoaster was shut down after a series of warning lights began flashing in the middle of opening day. The park manager worried he wouldn’t be able to find a technician able to work on it quickly. Luckily, Master Machinist Murphy was in HR applying for a position; getting the rollercoaster operational again became his interview.

Getting to work, he was able to find the initial cause of the problem: a bad tooth on an important cog. That had, unfortunately, caused loads on other parts of the system to exceed capacity. The whole lot looked like scrambled eggs. 

Knife, Feed, Huge

Mack the Knife was a murderer in The Threepenny Opera. What isn’t known is that Bob the Ladle, his gluttonous sidekick, got cut at the last minute.

The official problem seemed to come from the food budget needed to make Bob the Ladle’s feeds seem reasonable and with tickets being only three pennies, it was unsustainable.

However, an undercover reporter for the The Broadway Gazette found out that the actor who’d been slated to play Bob had been found with the director’s wife in flagrante delicto.

The actor was happy it was only his acting part that was cut.

Fruit, Slide, Brief

Police Captain Sanders spit out a mouthful of coffee when he swallowed his chewing gum. It was that kind of day. Maybe it was a Full Moon.

Sergeant Tuttle stuck his head in the Captain’s office. Sanders looked up and barked, “What? And keep it brief.”

Tuttle growled “You ain’t going to believe this. There’s a large group of people who broke into a fruit warehouse and set up a slide. We need a full squad to go. Can we call in the off-duty personnel?”

Sanders looked up at the ceiling. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Unit, Examine, Joint

“You summoned me, my Lord?"

“Yes, I did Provisioner. I would like to examine the supplies request from our units in the field.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

“I notice that the Yorkshire Horse are requesting 500 joints of beef.”

“Yes, my Lord."

“That seems to be quite a large request for that unit, does it not?”

“It is, my Lord.”

“This is an expense the Kingdom cannot bear. Please notify the Yorkshire Horse Commander that their Quartermaster’s request cannot be honoured.”

“At once, my Lord. However, I should note your brother-in-law commands that unit.”

“Send what they requested.”

Gulf, Illegal, Kneel

“Approach and kneel!”

Queen Beatrice’s ability to project imperiousness was unparalleled. Even her closest allies quaked when she was in a regal rage.

Captain Brandeis prostrated himself, awaiting Her Majesty’s pleasure.

“You are aware that our shipping is being harassed by our enemies in the Gulf of Mexico. I command you to capture those who are undertaking these illegal activities. You are hereby promoted to Commodore and I place a squadron of my finest vessels at your command.”

She sensed the pleasure he felt at being given this new authority. She stared down at him balefully.

“Do not fail me.”