A Vital Conversation

“… Suspects heading East …”

“Mind hitting something with those shots?” he said in a broad Australian accent.

“Hey, fuck you, anybody else is this situation would shit a Miata.” came the reply in an equally broad Brooklyn accent.

“… The fuck’s a Miata?”

“Huh?”

“What’s a Miata?”

“Really? You’re asking something like that NOW?”

“You brought it up!”

“Geez, calm down! It’s a car, all right?”

“Fine.”

“… Suspects heading North …”

“Is it a big car?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, it’s just a fucking saying, it doesn’t fucking matter, just keep a-“

“ … Suspects have crashed …”

 (Thanks to Jed for the suggestion!)

Rebuilding Blocks

“And here is our lab, where we help Goddess Nature out and use the latest in scientific advances to help those animals who need it.”

I paused, my hand around the jar of rhinoceros semen that I had just gotten out of the cold storage. I set my smile to dazzling and turned around.

“Hi folks!” I said, as the tourists all dutifully filmed me and looked about.

“Dan here is one our finest technicians, he almost single-handedly saved the Panda population here on Earth.”

“Oh it was nothing, once we got rid of those Human pests, the Earth recovered…”

(Thanks to Thomas for the challenge!)

Market Forces

“So what’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

“You expect me to believe that? You’re selling this stuff with buy one, get two free? No-one gives away this quality merch at that price!”

His smiled remained fixed.

“No no, I just need the cash quick.”

I stared at him, then back at the suitcases filled with the packets of white powder.

“You gotta have a sniff before I buy.”

His smile got wider.

“Not a problem!”

He quickly opened a bag, and then threw the powder in my face. I coughed, inhaled…

And saw the light.

I turned to him and smiled.

(Thanks to Lee for the suggestion!)

The Final Boss

It all began once video games became accepted as art.

Not to say that was a bad thing, but once that got in, then everything wanted to become known as art. Cars, guns, anything made was art. Junkyards became exhibitions.

Then came ‘Bodyart’. Not tattoos, now people were scarring themselves, giving themselves illnesses as ‘art’.

But what was ‘true’ art to do? They tried to push the boundaries, tried to move the goalposts, but soon what was once ‘mindblowingly offensive’ quickly became ‘Tuesday morning’.

Eventually, we managed to outsmart them. We declared Earth to be Art, and that ended it.

(Thanks to Ron for the suggestion!)

Messenger Of The Gods

We dragged the virgin towards the altar. She screamed and pulled against us, just like every other one before her, but our grip was tight.

The priest watched over us, draped in his ceremonial robes of red and yellow, as we shacked the girl to the block, spreading her limbs, readying her for judgement.

The priest approached The Gods’ Messenger, and knelt before it.

“O Lords, what is your will?”

The Messenger began to communicate in its unworldly voice.

An Octagon… Octagon… Octagon…. The cow goes Mooooooo.

The priest turned.

“The Gods are pleased with this offering!”

He stabbed her.

(Thanks to Michael for the challenge!)

Site News: Challenge Week!

So I'm going old school, and going back to the original way Drabbles were done, or at least how they became popular online. I've got some random starting points and over the coming weekish I'll be using them as a basis. If you have a random phrase you want to challenge me with, let me know below or on Twitter (@MassiveQ) or any other way. Thanks for reading!

One Size Fits All

“I’ve cracked women!”

“No you haven’t.”

“Have too! We both know that they only date bastards, right?”

“Stereotypically.”

“And when they get cheated on they cry about wanting a nice guy, but won’t give us nice guys time of day, right?”

“You’ve ‘cracked’ women. You’re not nice.”

“See, I’ve worked out that they want to turn a bastard into a nice guy. They want to work at it, that’s what’s missing! Come on, we’re going out to prove my theory correct.”

He got fifteen or so drinks in the face before he met two of his future ex-wives that night.

The Perspective Fairy

He was in his third week of lovesick moping when the fairy appeared to him.

Through the smoke, he managed to ask “Are you Cupid?”

The fairy frowned. “No, I’m the Perspective Fairy.”

“But our love was special and unique!”

The fairy sighed and smacked him with her wand.

He suddenly became aware of every love story ever, every feeling that every couple had every felt.

After a moment, he shook his head.

“Ours was deeper.”

The fairy looked confused, and then butted heads with him.

The fairy saw their love.

The fairy gasped and then died of empathetic shock.

Balance

Every day, nearly 170 billion hours are lived. People wake up, eat and drink (if they can), and live their lives.

Every day, countless lives are forever altered. Men are enslaved, women are abused and raped, and children suffer all of the above.

Every day, people’s lives are ended, through disease, through misadventure, through war and peace and the inevitable enemy, time.

Every day, evil is allowed to triumph because it is ‘just how life is’ or because ‘we can’t get involved’ or because ‘it’s better than the alternative’.

But hey, a royal baby was born. That’s much more important.

Endgame

The autumn leaves were falling, a mixture of browns and reds.

The two of them stood there, staring at each other. For years they had played the game, and played it well. He ran, she hunted. He hid, she found. He tried to put the past behind him.

She was there to make sure he couldn’t.

They both wished it could be different, both wished they weren’t there. They weren’t in love, life isn’t that messy. But the fact they were practically strangers was, in a way, worse.

They both fired.

The leaves became a more vivid shade of red.

Hiring Policies

The interviewer looked over her glass tablet at the young man nervously sitting on the other side of the desk.

“So why do you want to work for WorldTek Industries… Gavin?”

He swallowed and met her eyes for the first time.

“Honestly? Because a few years ago, that red-headed bitch superheroine could have saved my girlfriend, but she chose to fly off and help that school bus instead. And since this is Master Martin’s company…”

The interviewer snorted and tapped the computer screen.

“I’m sorry, but we only hire misguided do-gooders for our henchmen.”

The hatch opened beneath his chair.

Tech Support

“It ain’t workin’.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I gathered that, since you called me and all. What exactly is wrong?”

“Won’t reload.”

I waited to see if more details would emerge, but she remained silent. After an uncomfortable silence I turned and booted it up. Immediately I was inundated with virus alarms.

“Have to reinstall everything… Your data is safe.” I added, cutting off her complaints.

She left me to it.

A few hours later...

“Done?”

“Let’s see.”

I turned and killed her with my hammer. After a moment the machine reloaded her time line, and she came back.

“Yep.”

"For sale: Baby shoes. Never worn."

Challenge: Ernest Hemingway once famously wrote a complete story in just 6 words. Can you do better?

Easy peasy!

…

“I’m sorry, he made it.”

… No, that needs more context.

“We find the defendant tasty.”

Horror’s so passé.

“He shot twice. She died.”

Well it’s complete, but not very interesting.

“It was early in the spring, and Lord Porter had ordered the butler to begin preparing lunch, when-“

Focus man, focus! Five words! You can do it!

“Breaking up’s hard without attendance.”

Brain, you can’t just pick words at random.

…

Eureka!

“For Rent: Bassinet. Used once.”

Nailed it.

Like Minded Souls

I was burying a body (totally self-defence) when she appeared. Literally.

My gun came out, and she threw her hands up. “Nightmare!”

We both paused, confused.

“What… Are we in an anti-magic field?” she asked, confused.

I took the time to look her over. She was stunningly beautiful, now that I wasn’t just thinking with my trigger finger.

“The whole world’s one love. No real wizards here.” I said.

She looked offended and straightened out (which highlighted her chest very well).

“I am a bard, thank you very much!”

I got her an identity and a record contract in days.

Debut Artist Awareness Enhancement Consultant

(Author's Notes: Well, it's been nearly 2 months, so time enough to mess with the format. I intend to stick to the drabble format the vast majority of the time here, but occasionally I may well have an idea that I can't express to my satisfaction in 100 words. Like this one, which is a double drabble, 200 words.

OK, so I went to that just for the name, but still. This will be an infrequent occurrence at best. If you have feedback on this, by all means let me know.)

It was about 3am. I didn’t pay attention when she got onto the train. She looked like another rocker chick, heading back home after a concert, or someone’s home at least. But then the tattoos and hair came off.

A few minutes after sitting down, she looked like a normal woman. She noticed me staring.

“What?”

I gestured to the outfit, and the wig sitting next to her.

“I’m a professional fangirl. I get hired to turn up to movie premiers and live performances to scream and shout and what have you. I mean, when they sign a new act, they don’t have screaming fans right away.”

She noticed my confusion wasn’t gone, and rolled her eyes. After a second, she began to scream. She fell to her knees, tears forming in her eyes, as she grabbed my hand and begged for an autograph.

And then, just like that, she stopped and went back to normal. I finally found my voice.

“So you live your life pretending to adore other people’s work. I assume you’re looking for someone to truly adore you?”

She snorted.

“Yeah, real like doesn’t work like that.” she said as she got up and walked away.

 

An Honest Mistake

Troubleshooting file #56FE99PA6:

GPS Location: Le Canard Farci [Restaurant] (78% confidence/confirmed by client)

Service: Translation (English/Spanish)

Client Report: Client has English as default language, on holiday in Paris. Client met default Spanish speaker. Client using spoken word translation service to communicate. Client reports acceptable service until default Spanish speaker “began speaking wildly and threw water into client’s face”.

Recording: Click to play audio.

Observation: Ambient noise unacceptably high, music and non-client communication causing translation service to fall below acceptable request likelihood parameters.

Determination: Client requested service translate phrase “Would you like some duck?” and not what was translated.

File ends.

The Wombat & The Beaver

There was once a wombat who decided to build a home. As he worked, a beaver noticed his idea and decided he’d build one too.

The beaver was lazy, only doing some work every so often. But whenever he did, he’d tell all the other creatures about it, and try and show off his work to the bigger, important animals.

The wombat however worked every day. If anyone asked, he happily told them of his work, but otherwise he stayed quiet.

Eventually the beaver’s work got him an award for avant-guard post-modernism, while the wombat’s home collapsed due to termites.

The Muse

Her name was Mary Sampson, and she got passed around the Arts Club like a risqué book or banned DVD.

After having her, Will began to write poetry that spoke of the beauty of nature and the nature of beauty.

Once he experienced life with her, Vince began to not so much paint as capture the spirit of his subjects, and find their inner truths and lay them bare.

Jo went from tinkering with tunes to now penning masterpieces for every instrument going.

Whereas with me, the club Secretary? We’re still together, just chilling out on the couch most nights…

Made To Order

My name finally came up on the list.

They took over a million measurements, and then the large box opened to reveal a quiet ‘girl’ who ‘would share your life perfectly’.

A couple years later when I brought her back, I just walked in. I explained it just wasn’t fun anymore. “Ah, you want the yin-yang model then.” He strapped us in and then she became an obnoxious “woman” who was ‘my exact opposite’.

A couple years later and the lab was deserted. I tried to remember the controls. The woman who emerged was a total mystery to me.

Thankfully.

Microcosm

The beat goes on.

It was like any other club, dark, hot, and with writhing bodies, most lost in their own worlds.

But in that sea of humanity, things happened. People met, and would eventually become the bane of each other’s existence, locked in a never ending cycle of lust, hate, and regret.

Others make choices about what influences their minds on a chemical level. Some will enjoy it, others not, and others still will lose their minds over it.

Some will make money, some will lose friendships, and maybe some will find love.

But always the beat goes on.

Serves Plenty

I opened the door on the third knock. A policeman stood there, piece of paper in hand, although he froze when he saw my apron.

“Oh, sorry, just making a roast…” I said, sheepishly.

“We’ve had reports of this woman being spotted in the area. Have you seen her?”

He held up the paper, with mugshots of a woman, normal looking beyond a distinctive cross-shaped scar on her cheek. The warning called her Mary Randle, a.k.a Bloody Mary.

I shook my head sadly, and after some reminders about safety he headed off.

I went back to my Roasted Bloody Mary.

Shoot, The Messenger

I sat next to the hangar door, idly cleaning my blaster, waiting.

I didn’t have to wait long, as a mere 3 centcycles after sending the message, the recipient turned up. He was your typical merchant, fat and overloaded with gaudy jewellery.

“What do you mean you can’t deliver? I paid good-“

“Customs gave me a random deepscan on entry.” I said, simply.

He stopped complaining and gulped.

“Oh… They find anything?”

I looked at him.

“Guess.”

He hurriedly smiled and held his hands out.

“Look, whatever it was, I didn’t mean for you-“

I fired.

“Well I meant that.”

Offensive Payload

I set the weapon up, and began to make my calculations.

Ever since the group hired me, I’d be systematically targeting those who had brought the world almost to the brink of collapse, and were still profiting from the spoils of their robberies from those unable to fight back.

The group was very interested when I showed them my device. Capable of delivering a payload that appeared to be fired from close range, when in fact I could be up to a mile away.

I waited, and took the shot when it appeared.

***

“Another Bank Chairman was pied today…”

Unexplored Markets

I saw Phil walking outside the café with this cute little brunette, deep in conversation before a peck on the cheek and she walked off. He came in, and shook my hand.

“Hey Gary, how’s-“

“Who’s the tail?”

He looked confused.

“Who?

Oh, Alex! Oh, she’s an old friend, we went to University-“

“And have you added benefits to your friendship portfolio?”

He looked puzzled. I rolled my eyes.

“Have you and her ever fuc-“

“What? Oh, no, no, no…

I, uh… Never thought of her like that…”

I reckon I ruined a good eight or so relationships with that.

A Blind Pig Can Still Learn A New Trick

Glory burst through the windows, followed quickly by Encantador. They looked around, and saw the large robot beginning its boot up sequence. Then they heard the mad cackling.

“Too late, my fine red-headed pseudo-hero, and the non-Union New Mexican equivalent for-“

“Cliché, we don’t have time-“

“THAT IS NOT MY NAME! My name is Clic, and-“

While she was ranting, Glory pointed at the obvious weak point on the robot. Encantador fired a bolt of energy at it.

This led to the unmistakable sound of a Newtonium cascade.

Glory stared at Clic, who smiled.

“I finally learned!”

The ‘incident’ occurred.

New Message From Gronak! (#2)

“Greetings Fellow Human! May Gronak ask question at you?”

You again? All right, what now?

“I see many moving pictures, and heard many rhythmical speakings about this thing called love coming without effort to target.”

… Yeah?

“But I have also read many texts that say to find this love one must make effort. Is this not-false?”

Most of the time…

“So why the speakings and moving pictures not-truth?”

They’re fantasies, they appeal to people since it doesn’t happen in real life.

“But fantasies influence behaviours. Do fellow humans realise these are fantasies?”

Uh… I hope so.

*Gronak is offline.*

What Happens Next

And they lived happily ever after.

Sort of. She was a bit miffed when she met his other three wives, and his dozen concubines. And he quickly discovered that the evil wizard didn’t exactly have to work too hard to outsmart her.

But he was away a lot, and her affairs were discreet, and the war fought between his kingdom and the neighbouring one who she was supposed to marry into was fairly short, and had acceptable casualties.

So, all in all, they were both moderately happy for the majority of their lives.

More so than the casualties at least.

Cords & Red Tape

I was born to a British father and a Swedish mother. My birth took place on a Spanish train, as it crossed the border between France and Italy. The paramedic who delivered me was Portuguese, the official who reported it to the Austrian officials who met the train when it arrived at the station was Greek, although he used German paperwork to register me with the relevant interested authorities.

After many years, for my 30^th birthday, the European Union finally got around to working out exactly what nationality I was, which was nice.

Although for some strange reason, I’m Dutch…

Inceptrejection

To: Martin Andrews.

Re: Your rejection of our rejection letter.

I received your email wherein you claimed you were unable to accept our rejection of your job application and thus ‘would report on Monday to take up your post’.

I remember first reading this idea 25 years ago, on a thrice photocopied letter stuck in the coffee room of my apprenticeship. Thus, you are either wildly unoriginal or devoid of imagination, and thus unsuited to this company.

Or, perhaps, you thought it proved you were ‘proactive’ and thought it would work.

Not as long as I own this company, sonny.

Taken To Illogical Conclusions.

Ever since the vote to make this a ‘truly Christian nation’, being a cop has gotten kinda hard. I mean, owning Brenda and Juana is cool, but having to round up people wearing mixed fabrics and stone them to death isn’t.

Of course, the worst part is like what happened last week. Got a call about a domestic disturbance, and when we got there, it was like something out of a horror movie. Blood all over the place, and the perp still stabbing his wife’s corpse.

“God told me to!” he said when we turned up.

He’s out on Monday.