Duncan had been lost in the woods for three days. This suited him just fine.
Everything was going according to plan. He had food, a sleeping bag, and a tent. He also had a book on wilderness survival, giving him all the advice he needed.
Duncan had no intention of finding his way back. He had even removed chapters from his book that referred to finding one’s way home. Lost in the wilderness meant no traffic, no meetings and most importantly … no Gladys.
Two weeks later, Duncan began to rethink his strategy. He was tired of eating twigs and dirt clods. It turned out that catching food with snares was more difficult than the book led him to believe. He began to think that a little time in traffic could be a good thing. He would call it his contemplative time. As for meetings, he could call those group sharing events.
With a new outlook on life, Duncan began to work on finding his way home. After some time, he eventually managed to climb to the top of the highest nearby mountain with the intent of getting his bearings.
Sure enough, from his perch on the peak, he could see a large town not more than five miles away. That was when his long forgotten cell phone buzzed indicating he had an SMS. He realized that he must be within cell range up there in the open.
Pulling out his phone, he looked down to read, “Where the hell are you, and pick up some milk on your way home, you worthless excuse for a man.” It was from Gladys.
Duncan calmly dropped his cell to the ground, smashed it with his foot, and then headed back into the wilderness. Some perspectives are just too hard to change.
Be sure to stop by my main blog The View From The Cheap Seats.
jim
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Monday, July 4, 2011
Quiet Wife
Paul lifted his wife out of the car trunk and stood her stiff body on the dolly, which he then used to wheel her into the service department.
“What seems to be the problem sir?” asked the service representative behind the counter.
“It’s my wife,” Paul began, “she seems to be acting up a bit.”
The rep walked around from behind the counter to get a closer look at Paul’s unit.
“Ahh,” he said scratching his head, “I see you have the Quiet Wife model 01-Alpha. I didn’t know that any of these things were still out there. She must be what, twenty-five years old?”
“I’ve had her for nearly thirty years. You might say we’ve grown old together,” said Paul, a tear forming in his eye.
“What seems to be the problem?” the rep asked.
“She is leaking oil and several of her connections keep loosening up. She requires a lot of attention. If I have to pay that much attention to my wife, I might as well get a live one. Plus, she seems to have lost some interest in me … physically I mean.”
The rep couldn’t help but do a quick body scan, noting the generous belly and unkempt look of his customer. Recovering quickly he said, “It must be her optical recognition and response card. I should have another one in the back.”
While the rep went to look for the part, Paul scanned through some brochures touting the latest in Artificially Intelligent Domestic Partners. Their best selling model was Handyman Hal. The testimony below said, “He is much more of a man than my real husband in every way.” Paul shuddered as he saw the smiling face attached to the comment. It was that of the newest female AIDP, Quiet Wife Ultra.
“What seems to be the problem sir?” asked the service representative behind the counter.
“It’s my wife,” Paul began, “she seems to be acting up a bit.”
The rep walked around from behind the counter to get a closer look at Paul’s unit.
“Ahh,” he said scratching his head, “I see you have the Quiet Wife model 01-Alpha. I didn’t know that any of these things were still out there. She must be what, twenty-five years old?”
“I’ve had her for nearly thirty years. You might say we’ve grown old together,” said Paul, a tear forming in his eye.
“What seems to be the problem?” the rep asked.
“She is leaking oil and several of her connections keep loosening up. She requires a lot of attention. If I have to pay that much attention to my wife, I might as well get a live one. Plus, she seems to have lost some interest in me … physically I mean.”
The rep couldn’t help but do a quick body scan, noting the generous belly and unkempt look of his customer. Recovering quickly he said, “It must be her optical recognition and response card. I should have another one in the back.”
While the rep went to look for the part, Paul scanned through some brochures touting the latest in Artificially Intelligent Domestic Partners. Their best selling model was Handyman Hal. The testimony below said, “He is much more of a man than my real husband in every way.” Paul shuddered as he saw the smiling face attached to the comment. It was that of the newest female AIDP, Quiet Wife Ultra.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
R&R
Written for the Daily Flash Fiction Challenge with a word limit of 300.
The prompts: This story must contain the words tomato, flower, book
R&R
Jackson finished tightening his apron before going out to tend his garden. He hummed an old tune as he watered his prize flowers. The time out here with his plants was special. Sitting in the dirt, digging weeds as his tomato plants hovered around him gave him time to think. Sometimes the thoughts were big, other times they were inconsequential. Whatever the case, they came and went and he was free from the stress and strain of everyday life.
After about an hour, he forced himself to his feet. Maybe he had time to do a little reading before going to bed. Dusting himself off, he made his way back inside. There, he found a favorite book. He made some warm tea and settle down for a good read.
The flashing red light over his door caught his attention. With an audible sigh, he rolled out of bed and slipped into his body suit.
The executive officer addressed him as he stepped onto the starship’s fighting bridge.
“Captain, the Corillians have just rezed to within firing range. They appear to be booting up their weapons’ systems.”
The captain looked over at his weapons officer and received a confirming nod. As he took his seat in the middle of the bridge he simply said, “Fire when ready.”
The prompts: This story must contain the words tomato, flower, book
R&R
Jackson finished tightening his apron before going out to tend his garden. He hummed an old tune as he watered his prize flowers. The time out here with his plants was special. Sitting in the dirt, digging weeds as his tomato plants hovered around him gave him time to think. Sometimes the thoughts were big, other times they were inconsequential. Whatever the case, they came and went and he was free from the stress and strain of everyday life.
After about an hour, he forced himself to his feet. Maybe he had time to do a little reading before going to bed. Dusting himself off, he made his way back inside. There, he found a favorite book. He made some warm tea and settle down for a good read.
The flashing red light over his door caught his attention. With an audible sigh, he rolled out of bed and slipped into his body suit.
The executive officer addressed him as he stepped onto the starship’s fighting bridge.
“Captain, the Corillians have just rezed to within firing range. They appear to be booting up their weapons’ systems.”
The captain looked over at his weapons officer and received a confirming nod. As he took his seat in the middle of the bridge he simply said, “Fire when ready.”
Friday, July 1, 2011
Thinning the Herd
Written for the Daily Flash Fiction Challenge with a word limit of 300.
The prompts: This story must involve a winter sport.
Thinning the Herd
Ignuth and Mudsock struggled into their heavy winter clothes. This was to be the biggest day of their young lives. They were going to participate in their little Eskimo village’s oldest ritual; one designed to recognize the fittest amongst them while keeping the population in check.
Today they were going to go polar bear tipping.
The idea was to sneak up on a sleeping polar bear, which happened to be standing at the time, and push it over. That was step one. Step two was to outrun an animal with the speed of a snowmobile.
Needless to say, few survived.
The polar bears thought this was great sport. Every year they would bulk up on Eskimo youth; not as tasty as seals but much easier to catch. They had learned to stand very still and then amazingly, the food would actually walk right up to them.
The day started with a parade down the center of the village’s short main street; a mud path about a hundred yards long. The two-person teams would walk together amidst cheers and much ado. They always tipped in pairs.
Ignuth considered himself to be very lucky at having drawn Mudsock as a partner. Neither boy was very physically adept. Ignuth was extremely fat, signifying the wealth of his family. Mudsock was from an even richer family and thus even flabbier than Ignuth.
All of the other teams eyed Ignuth with open envy. They had all wanted to tip with Mudsock. The reason for this was clear. When tipping a polar bear, it was not necessary to be the fastest or the strongest boy in the village. The polar bear was always going to be faster and stronger.
There was only one key to success. You simply had to be faster than your partner.
The prompts: This story must involve a winter sport.
Thinning the Herd
Ignuth and Mudsock struggled into their heavy winter clothes. This was to be the biggest day of their young lives. They were going to participate in their little Eskimo village’s oldest ritual; one designed to recognize the fittest amongst them while keeping the population in check.
Today they were going to go polar bear tipping.
The idea was to sneak up on a sleeping polar bear, which happened to be standing at the time, and push it over. That was step one. Step two was to outrun an animal with the speed of a snowmobile.
Needless to say, few survived.
The polar bears thought this was great sport. Every year they would bulk up on Eskimo youth; not as tasty as seals but much easier to catch. They had learned to stand very still and then amazingly, the food would actually walk right up to them.
The day started with a parade down the center of the village’s short main street; a mud path about a hundred yards long. The two-person teams would walk together amidst cheers and much ado. They always tipped in pairs.
Ignuth considered himself to be very lucky at having drawn Mudsock as a partner. Neither boy was very physically adept. Ignuth was extremely fat, signifying the wealth of his family. Mudsock was from an even richer family and thus even flabbier than Ignuth.
All of the other teams eyed Ignuth with open envy. They had all wanted to tip with Mudsock. The reason for this was clear. When tipping a polar bear, it was not necessary to be the fastest or the strongest boy in the village. The polar bear was always going to be faster and stronger.
There was only one key to success. You simply had to be faster than your partner.
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