Thursday, May 26, 2011

Bedtime Stories for Weird Kids: The Wooden Gun

Angela walked through the metal detector. It binged. She wondered what she had forgotten. Couldn’t possibly be anything too bad.

“Ma’am, I need to look inside your bag.”

She handed him her purse and wondered how he got away with the bear necklace.

He pulled it open and raised an eyebrow.

She looked inside. Damn it, Michael. The kid had put a wooden toy gun in her purse. He had made it himself. It looked like a tourist trap gun cut from a plank and painted brown. The edges of the handle were work and chipped.

The guard pushed the toy aside. If he had known how dangerous it was … she laughed to herself.

A pair of tweezers set the alarm off. The guard let her have her purse and the tweezers back.

She walked into the meeting room.

As always, the meeting ran long on words and slow on results. Angela tried to remain alert. The meeting probably wouldn’t run into trouble, but she’d been hired to make sure any trouble went the good side’s way.

She fingered her bird necklace and read the crowd for signs of danger.

The meeting hit a recess.

“Hey, Angela,” a voice called. She turned to look and hands grabbed her necklace from behind and tore it off.

She inhaled sharply, not daring to scream for help.

Hardly a soul here knew.

She reached for her bracelet and heard a crunch.

Artie, she fought back tears and activated her bracelet.

It transformed from a series of wood beads to an electronic shield surrounding her and expelling unwanted objects from her vicinity.

She spun around, grabbed the wooden knife from under her shirt, and triggered it. It flashed for an instant and turned into a tactical throwing knife.

Angela tossed it at the gray haired man who had stolen and destroyed her necklace.

It caught him high in the rib cage. He smiled and reverted to a small Santa statue.

The smile worried her. She turned around and spotted Nancy Telling running her fingers over a little wood soldier.

A soldier with only one arm.

Angela swore. Nancy was too far for Angela to throw her knife at.

Nancy activated the soldier and a familiar man appeared.

His left arm stopped above the elbow and his right arm held a powerful semi-automatic.

He took aim at someone … a diplomat, surely.

Angela pulled Michael’s wood gun out of her purse and activated it.

Michael’s gun was a piece of art if it worked. The revolver shaped piece of wood turned into a sleek sniper rifle with magically silenced bullets.

She took aim carefully, exhaled, and shot the soldier’s head.

He crumpled to the floor and turned into a headless toy soldier.

Angela flicked Michael’s gun and it turned back into a wood toy. She tucked it in her purse and stayed low.

Nancy looked confused for a moment.

Then she spotted Angela. Nancy pulled out a pencil and flicked its eraser. It turned into a long metal want. Deadly.

She lowered its aim to Angela and began an incantation.

Angela’s bracelets wouldn’t deflect nearly enough magic to protect her.

She ran.

Angela woke up.

“What’s going on?” she asked the people standing around her.

“You were very lucky today, miss. A crank attacked you but a bear broke into the building and stopped her before she could do serious damage.”

She looked at the security guard who had screened her earlier. He winked.


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Saturday, May 21, 2011

Bedtime Stories for Weird Kids: Sarah

I’ll admit my system has flaws. Blocking her last name from my news feeds meant I missed out on some Monty Python news.

And, of course, there was the whole “being the last person to find out about an alien invasion fleet” bit. Really? Every last article about the aliens had to include that dumb quote of hers about seeing space really well from her back yard in Alaska?

You have only yourselves to blame.

Especially for the rapid spread of their zombie plague. If only you hadn’t suddenly remembered that the fluoride that could have protected the population from the virus was a mind control drug from the government.

I’m rolling my eyes here just in case it’s not getting across.

Is it true they’re only destroying us because she talked to them and we clearly took them seriously?

The misery of it all is that you’re not cognizant enough for me to enjoy the look on your face when I say I told you so.

Well, at least that misery won’t last much longer.


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Friday, May 13, 2011

Bedtime Stories for Weird Kids: Alternate Ending

Recreated from events recorded and transmitted by the mobile of Helena Garret.

The destroyers floated at precise distances from each other in a circle encompassing the island of Dr. Essex. The sky barely allowed a single puff of a cloud to mar it’s pristine blue.

Director Helena Garret rode in a tiny boat from one of the ships to land. Her curly brown hair fluttered in the wind and her face showed no sign of worry.

When the craft landed, she hopped off and ran up the beach. She slowed to a measured walk when she approached Dr. Essex’s house.

“Doctor!” She shouted. “We need to speak to you.”

A man with very tall spiky black hair, orange pants, thick glasses, and a floral shirt came out of the house. “What?”

Director Garret walked up to him. “Sir, the world needs you to stop. You’ve destroyed two oceans already. You have to come with me.”

Dr. Essex laughed.

“Well, I guess there’s no reason to wait,” he said. He pulled a car door opener from his pocket and clicked the button.

The sea fell around the destroyers.

Garret gasped. Her ships would—

“No,” she whispered. “It can’t be.”

She turned to face the hole. Everything sank into it.

The perfect teal blue sea looked like glass. It fell into the hole. The Triton succumbed first. The black hole grew more quickly.

The footage stopped.

“That, class, was the destruction of Earth, humanity’s home planet. Are there any questions?”

A girl with red hair and freckles raised her hand.

“Yes, Rebbecca?”

“Why did he do it?”

“I’m not sure that’s a question I can answer. However, cornered animals are dangerous.”

#86 - Coincidence, I assure you.

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Friday, May 6, 2011

Bedtime Stories for Weird Kids: A Quiet Evening At Home

A whir Johnson hadn’t noticed slowed and halted.

“Heh. The droids are shutting down for the night,” Marie said.

Johnson nodded.

Maria’s eyes flickered and she slumped over.

A red dot under the forehead covering blinked amber while Maria’s files consolidated and she received memories of a quiet evening at home with a non-existent partner and children.

Johnson laughed. The laugh sounded hollow to him in the suddenly still office.

Walking through the robots unnerved him. Sometimes he wondered if he was really human. Simple paran—

Johnson arrived at his desk at 8:01 and wondered where the time had gone.


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Jock Stuart

It's been awhile (probably more than a year) since I've included anything on the blog that was creative without being primarily written work. So, here's me performing the folk song Jock Stewart or as I prefer to spell it, Jock Stuart. (Read more!)