Stencil, Staple, Upset

“Mom, you’re clearly upset. So what’s up?”

“Nothing!”

Disbelief dripped from her daughter’s response. “Nothing. Really.”

“It’s… you know the stencil I’ve been working on for the past two days?”

“No…”

“Yes you do! The Disney castle in acrylic! Lines so fine you can almost see Mickey and Minnie Mouse at the ramparts.”

“Uh…”

“Someone, and I’m not saying who, used it as an underlay when using a stapler.”

“Ohhh…”

“Holes everywhere. But it’s ok, you know, because it wasn’t all that important.”

“Shit.”

“So maybe I’ll just, I don’t know, have a broken castle!”

“Mom?”

“What?”

“It was Dad.”

City, Bounce, Wind

How do you handle a birthday party that thousands of kids will attend? Go big on the activities.

That’s what the world’s youngest billionaire (aged twelve - a series of viral video games had given him capital to become incredibly rich) figured when he invited all the kids from a mid-sized city to attend his party. The upshot was an event bigger than most town fairs: games, rides, a small city of bouncy castles. It was going to be awesome.

Until the weather disagreed, with high winds making the event impossible.

So he chartered planes to take everyone to Disneyland. 

Foreshadow, Crackle, Public

“Why are we staying here?”, the magic-user asked. “This is stupid.”

“I don’t know. It’s kinda cool.”, the cleric replied.

The fight between the D&D players involved the inn where the party had gathered. The sign out front had a man standing in full sun, with a shadow pointing towards the Sun: the ForeShadow Inn.

“Ok - you’re in the Public Room and there’s a fire crackling in the hearth. Roll for perception…”, said the DM,”… and Rocko Padfoot notices the fire starts to tinge towards blue. What do you do?”

The players began debating what it might mean.

Space, Crock, Famished

Myles raised his hands in frustration. “We don’t have enough crocks of shit!”

Jane glared. “Well at least I’m not constipated!”

The last two passengers on a wayward space liner, they were trying to survive. While Jane’s inventory revealed food stocks that would carry them for six months, they had to make that food stretch for two years.

Constantly famished, they planted potato and other root vegetables on the main deck, using their own waste as fertilizer. But, as Myles just noticed, the makeshift farm was perhaps too big.

They didn’t dare ask if fluorescent lights would grow plants. 

Suppose, Launch, Vegetable

I suppose it was inevitable.

Customer demand for things “more natural” than organic produce sparked the imagination of some snake oil salesman somewhere and led to Free Range Vegetables.

Seriously.

The launch of their products sparked debate among health food aficionados concerning their benefits. Nutrient load, fibre content, and pesticide presence were among the most discussed attributes. Cost, oddly enough, was rarely mentioned (although this isn’t all that surprising since it was Silicon Valley millionaires who were the initial target customer).

Free Range Fruits will soon be released. However, at $150 per apple, for example, don’t expect to afford it.

Scope, Wad, Tin

Some play paintball with reckless abandon, running around, shouting, shooting at everything that moves. That isn’t the game I know and love.

I sit in my enclosure, a tin of carefully selected (and slightly modified) paintballs at the ready. Each one of these beauties will decorate a target and they will know that they were shot by me.

There’s movement about 20 yards off. I scope in and… someone’s about to be shot in the back. I spit out my wad of chew, line up the shot and… gotcha. An acrylic technicolour swirl is my gift to you today.

Dash, Pinto, Crawl

It’s an unusual Escape Room to say the least. Usually staged in a single room, this one’s in the bowels of a building complex. Aside from puzzles requiring logic, there are other tasks that call on physicality: dashing across a room while avoiding targeting lasers, crawling through air ducts, balancing on pipes, that sort of thing.

I’ve made my way to what I figure is the final room with ten minutes to spare. On the wall is one word, Pinto. Ten bowling pins sit opposite.

Maybe it’s PinTwo?

As I pick up pin two, a trapdoor opens beneath me.

Crap.

Strategy, Fold, Behaviour

Off to another poker tournament to make a million over the course of a weekend. But this isn’t Kenny Roger’s poker strategy - that whole “hold ‘em, fold ‘em” thing. The game starts long before the first hand is dealt.

I always assume surveillance is upon me as soon as I start travelling (and frequently long before) so I control my behaviour; I don’t have poker face - I have poker attitude. I’ve defeated players simply because they defeated themselves and told me they had in their body language.

In fact, the cards are the least important part of the game.

Fascinate, Achieve, Domain

It is said that the gods visit the mortal world via the Rainbow Bridge. So how does a scrawny wisp of a nothing visit the domain of Valhalla, the Hall of the Gods? How does one achieve that which only the children of Sky and Earth are entitled?

It is also said that a leprechaun’s gold sits at the end of the rainbow. But what if it isn’t the end but instead the beginning?

It is also said that the most fascinating treasures are guarded by the fiercest of dragons.

Does anyone know where I can find a fierce dragon?

Key, Smoke, Danger

The world of Public Service Announcements might have been different if Smokey the Bear hadn’t been chosen to alert the public to the danger of forest fires and their causes. The calm paternalistic bear influenced the creation of spokes-creatures that came after.

But what if one of the alternate characters had been chosen?

Martin the Rabid Squirrel would have been furious at people who left campfires burning unattended, foaming at the mouth and threatening to bite offenders. The draft script was rated R for language.

Calm rationality and the appeal to children were key for Smokey getting the job. 

Brand, Chosen, Qualify

Howdy, Mister and Missus America. Cowboy Jones here, talking about the epitome of what you can stuff between two pieces of your favourite baked good: Vegamazing brand Soy Burgers.

You may wonder how it is that Vegamazing brand Soy Burgers are so good. Let me tell ya, it’s a demanding process.

Each and every soy bean is inspected, making sure they are at the peak of ripeness. Many beans are called but few are chosen.

But it don’t stop there. To qualify as a Vegamazing Soy Burger, it has to be perfectly juicy and tasty.

Buy and barbecue! You’ll love’em.

One, Year, Story

Victoria Pleasure, author of romantic novels targeting love-starved middle-aged women, paused typing as her best friend wandered into the study.

“Hey there Vick, what’s the story this time? Hunk-a-hunk-a meets a Victorian beauty? Or a Parisian beauty? Or an Arabic beauty? Do tell.”

“Oh Roxanne, you’re incorrigible!”

“Someone has to be! It’s been a year since your last release… oh my!… and I’m simply pent up waiting to read your next one!”

“I’ve decided to write this one from a new vantage: adventurous female protagonist meets bookish academic and they…”

Roxanne looked shocked.

“Kidding!”

Acid, Property, Greed

Three chemists walk into a bar.

No, this isn’t a joke. Chemists blow off steam the same way other people do. To think otherwise dehumanizes scientists.

Ahem.

They grab a corner table and talk about their latest discovery:

“So what shall we call it? It’s certainly an acid, given its composition.”

“We should name it according to its properties and not after a composite of our last names.”

“Yeah - who’d remember SmithKleinBeecham Acid? It should have a sexy name, like SvelteGoddess Acid.”

“Your greed is turning your brain to mush. Or is it what you’re drinking?”

“A quadruple vodka?”

Recall, Muddle, Egregious

My mind is broken. Every event, action, thought, mood are all stored. As I grow older and more material is held, the pressure to remember, to reimmerse, grows. There will come a day when I enter the past and not reemerge. Worse yet, it’s likely to be an egregious event that swallows me and refuses to let go.

I long to forget, or at least have details muddle. To have the mental pressure let up, even for a moment, would be a blessing. It’s my curse to never have that happen.

Am I writing this or only remembering doing so?

Correspond, Upshot, Fluffy

The smell of parchment and ink, the scratching of a quill pen, the quiet popping of a small fire in the grate. A small fluffy Pomeranian in his lap, snoring softly.

The letter was full of “my dear friend” and “with all due respect”, but the upshot of the correspondence was a complaint to a craftsman in London about the poor workmanship of a recently purchased carriage. Wheels, after all, should be perfectly round and not elliptical, however slight.

The response, although not yet written, will certainly be full of “not responsible for wear and tear”.

This could take months.

Chill, Express, Mine

“Double soy half-caff espresso with a lemon twist!”

As I reach for my drink, another patron reaches for it too.

“Excuse me”, I say politely, “I’ve been waiting twenty minutes for my drink. I’m late for work as it is and…”

“Puh-lease!”, said the mouth, trying to be cool and chill but the face was anything but. “I’ve been waiting thirty minutes for mine, that is it, so excuse me for not discussing this further.”

Two hands pulling a small takeaway cup in two different directions equals spilled coffee everywhere.

Too bad there isn’t an express coffee service.

Invoke, Jalopy, Quaint

“I invoke our Friendship Agreement.”

“What friendship agreement?”

“I need you to get hold of a jalopy - the rustier the better.”

“No - really. Let’s back up here.”

“I’ll drive it into Johnsonville, the most quaint town for 100 miles.”

“Brad? Are you listening to me?”

“And that will position me as one of theirs from a different small town.”

“Have you been sniffing leaded gasoline again?”

“And with that connection, I’ll be able to become mayor.”

“Brad? Seriously, I’m calling 911.”

“From there, it’s a hop, skip, and jump to the governorship and then President.”

“I’m dialing.”

“I’ll be King!”

Crush, Ripple, Dress

A first date. Like ever. Oh man. I’m going out with Samantha Taylor! I’ve had such a crush on her ever since junior high and now we’re going out! This is so great!

What should I wear? Will she wear a dress? Or jeans? Should I wear jeans? Man this sucks!

And Dad will be driving us! He’s such a dork! Oh man this sucks!

I think about her and this little ripple in my stomach starts… ugh this sucks.

And I’ve got sweat pouring from every pore… and it stinks! Man this…

“Jordon? You ready? We gotta leave, Bud.”

Lantern, Sky, Hope

As I write this, sporadic fireworks sound from afar, denoting celebrations far and wide. Commonly referred to as Loy Khratong, it’s the time of year when lanterns float into the sky, carrying with them the fears and anxieties of what life might bring. This part of the holiday is properly called Yi Peng.

Loy Khratong is the part of the holiday involving the building and floating of small decorated bamboo boats, often with small candles. It’s said that these boats help to bring hope and luck and also appease the water gods for the polluting of the waterways. 

Diet, Gouge, Nuisance

Of all the deliberative bodies throughout history, it was the the Diet of the Ramathusian Territory that racked up the biggest body counts. The delegates routinely fought duels over trivial matters of policy; the pen may be mightier than the sword, but swords are longer and sharper.

Counsellor Thumpkin found the fights, both with swords and words, tiresome and a nuisance. He resolved to unite the Territory under a single ruler: him.

His first plan was to gouge a hole in anyone who got in his way. But he was a terrible swordsman. Plan B: buy everyone off.

It worked.

Fry, Propose, Turn

As Marcus followed the spitting and spattering sounds of frying, his nose started sniffing automatically, taking in corn meal and herbs. “Smells good”, he thought. “She needs my help.”

Patti, his new wife, was battering the next round of catfish. “Hey hun, how was your nap?”

“Lovely. May I propose that you use flour with the batter? It’ll taste better.”

She flashed a quick irritated smile. “You may. But corn meal it is. Might I suggest that you set the table?”

“You can. But how about you listen to my suggestion…”

“And you can turn around and exit my kitchen.”

Support, Tricycle, Grease

Thom stared at his new purchase. His wife did too, sceptically.

“Honey… I don’t know what to say…”

“I’d like your support on this.”

“Sure.”

Sitting in the garage was a tricycle. A large one. With a motor. And a canopy. Not to mention the two rows of seats behind the one for the driver. In Thailand, it’s known as a tuk-tuk. In Norway, it’s not.

He tried again. “You know my balance isn’t what it once was. This is like a motorbike, but wider.”

She looked down. “Who made this? It’s leaking oil and grease.”

“My brother, Endre.”

Preposterous, Deft, Frequency

The frequency George did voice-over work after his throat cancer dropped precipitously. A once velvety sound turned harsh and thin. His outlook on his future did the same. Until an old friend called…

“Come to the studio, George. Technology can help with…”

“Preposterous.”

“Your delivery, George, is unique. Your delivery is so subtle, so deft, so…”

“Was.”

“Yes - was. But it can also be ‘is’. What do you say?”

“I don’t want to sound like Stephen Hawking.”

“Of course not. So… see you Monday?”

“What’s the job?”

“Well… how about an ad for throat lozenges?”

“Seriously?” George just glared.

Drag, Counsel, Effect

Felicia took a long drag off her cigarette. “Your honour, I’m counsel for the defendant.”

Judge Green looked unimpressed. “Counsellor, you are aware this is a non-smoking building, yes?”

Felicia exhaled smoke slowly. She hoped the affectation, the effect of billowing smoke, added a certain atmosphere and would deflect attention from her client who was guilty of everything she was accused of (and so much more).

“Counsellor? Get rid of that cigarette. Now.”

This isn’t working. Switch to Plan B.

“Your honour, my client throws herself on the court’s mercy.”

“Hey!” Felicia’s client wasn’t thrilled with the new strategy.

Screw, Choke, Ego

Theo wanted to start a new Youtube channel, to publish videos on a theme. One idea was People Who Died Due to Ego, and on that list was The Swallower.

The Swallower was a 1930s geek (circus performer of the grotesque) who saw himself as a Houdini-like performer - he’d swallow anything the audience wanted. Swords were the normal. Gross stuff uncommon but fine. But it was a giant screw that did him in.

The Swallower knew he wasn’t feeling well that day but his ego assured him it’d be fine. It wasn’t - he choked, it lodged, then he suffocated.

Poll, Friend, Sack

Franklin dove for cover - his boss had emerged from her office. The rumour mill had whispered that she needed to sack half the department. Her method was simple: you get spotted, you get fired.

Franklin’s friend Martin hadn’t believed the news. He’d been the first let go.

Upper Management meanwhile had set up a poll, of sorts: Who Would Survive?. Franklin hadn’t made the cut on anyone’s list.

“Franklin!”, his boss yelled, “it’s safe! Come on out!”

He stayed put, but Maggie came out from the bathroom.

“You’re fired!”

Franklin was prepared: he had a camouflage screen and snacks.

Penchant, Pen, Chant

Burgle set his quill aside, replacing it with the glass of red he always had to hand when composing. A small cough alerted him that his roommate, a nobody named Brahms, was there.

“My dear Brahms, I’ve just penned a new masterpiece.”

Brahms gave him a look. “Really? It seems as though your penchant for mediocrity is going to be thrust upon an unsuspecting populace yet again.”

“Ah Brahms, your pedantic droning chant reveals your jealousy.”

“Burgle, my farts are more interesting than the drivel you try to pass off as music.”

“I’ll be famous while you’ll be forgotten!”

Cart, Etch, Fuel

“Watson? What do you make of this scene?”

“Hmmm… The victim’s house lies along the main road to the city. A cart is parked in front. There’s…”

“What kind of cart, Watson? To etch this into your mind, detail is essential! When we leave this location, what will fuel your memory? Detail.”

“Right. It’s a float, probably a milk float. It sits…”

“How do you know it’s a milk float? Have you examined the load?”

“Well… no. But honestly, Holmes, the milk churns are a clue that…”

“But they hold oil.”

“Oil? To what purpose?”

“All in good time, Watson!”

Work, Proof, Particular

When I was in Boy Scouts, one of the requirements for a badge was to light a fire with no more than two matches. During my test, it worked on the second match; my Patrol Leader signed off on that skill.

A couple of years later, I was a Patrol Leader. On a campout, one Scout in particular said he’d done the two match test at home and that I should sign off. I needed proof and happily, we needed a fire started.

He refused to be tested. So I had him start the fire (with help) for the practice.

Sense, Vent, Myopic

Ira Cummings was a man with no future. He had only the present, which recycled itself with tedious regularity: same morning routine, same bland breakfast, same maintenance man job in a rundown factory. His only joy was eating his bologna-sandwich lunch on the roof.

One day as he ate, a white canvas bag fell from the sky, venting $100 bills. The bag of money landed within arm’s reach. Ira stared at it, but such was his myopia that he couldn’t make sense of it. What would he do with a bag of money?

He finished lunch early and left.