Hard Man

He pulled the hood off the victim, and froze.

I instantly knew something was wrong. I'd seen this man do this exact sequence with dozens of victims. He'd threatened little old ladies, he'd cut the cheek of a six year old, he'd pulled a tooth of a pregnant woman begging for her life.

Hell, he'd done this to his literal own mother!

So either he was getting soft, which for a man like this wasn't possible, or he'd just fallen in love.

In either case, I couldn't risk anything, so I shot them both and closed down the operation immediately.

Blipped Out

I could tell you how the world ends, but you don't want to know.

Seriously, I'm sure you think you do, especially if not everyone knows it. The old glowing moon idea, if you knew we were all dying at a certain point, you can spend all your money and go out happy.

But it isn't going to work like that. There's no build up, no change to change or prevent it. We are a blip in the normal operation of a universe, and eventually we will be blipped out.

When?

Oh fine, if you must know. It'll happen in-

My Driver

I couldn't have done this without her.

She was the one who pulled me up out of the rut I was in, who saved me from remaining in the never ending cycle of laziness I was stuck in.

She was the one to keep driving me onwards and upwards, to not accept me stalling out, never letting me stop.

She was the one who, when I faced the biggest challenge of my life, wouldn't accept me backing down, and insisted I go through with it.

I couldn't have done this without her.

And that's why I hate her stinking guts.

Lurkers

So I saw something about how as a creator of art, or at the least content, which is a spectrum most everything on the internet lives on, that I shouldn't be discouraged about responses, or lack thereof, to my work, because you never know how many silent fans you have.

Thing is, while I agree that it's a lovely sentiment that some need to hear, it's not true, at least for me.

I can access all the statistics of readership I could ever want, so I know exactly how popular, or unpopular, I am.

But thank you, in any case.

Unhook

He was floating down the river in a small row boat, lying down with a hat over his face, and seemed genuinely annoyed when I called out to him.

"What do you want?"

"Caught anything?"

"Son, this isn't a trip about catching anything, this is about relaxing away from my harpy of a wife!"

"Oh, does she know you-"

"I buy fish on my way home to cook for her, now leave me alone!"

I left him alone, never saw him again. Although I wonder how it went down if she found out the river's fish were declared toxic later.

A Champion

When the call went out for a representative of the planet, there were millions of volunteers.

Thus, they were disqualified immediately.

Then there were all the people who didn't care if they were chosen as the representative, those who would do it but weren't going to stick their hand up.

They were also disqualified.

So there was all the people who'd refuse, because they were sure they couldn't do it.

After removing those with an actual good reason, I had a pool to select from, of those who I could claim were worthy with a straight face.

Couldn't risk winning.

Lessons

I learnt many things under his tutelage.

Obviously the basics on how to use weapons, how to care for them, and most importantly how to recognise problems before they happened in the middle of combat.

Several different styles of combat, but more importantly how to fight against dozens more. You don't really need to know how to fight Crane Style, just how to beat someone using it.

But most of all, he taught me that most people aren't really people. They think they are, but really they're just tools, to be used in various ways.

Like, say, continuing your teachings.

This Is A Lighthouse, Your Call

There's an old joke, where two people on a radio at sea are talking, telling the other to change course to avoid a collision, one of them getting more angry, since they're so important and all, but it turns out the other voice is a lighthouse.

I always assumed it was a joke, a comment on proto-Karens. But after some research, I found a transcript of the conversation, it really happened!

Of course, given that was in the lawsuit over the lighthouse not mentioning its status early enough to avoid a shipwreck, I understand turning it around on the ship.

A Relative Hour

I slammed my temporal unit just as they fired the disintegration laser gun at her. Time slowed, or rather I sped up, I now had an hour to try and get a solution to the problem rather than a microsecond.

The first minute was spent confirming the gun had already fired.

The next nine minutes were spent trying to get out of the room, since at my enhanced speed moving anything would destroy it.

The next forty-nine minutes were spent trying to find a solution.

The final minute were spent saying goodbye as I put myself in the bolt's path.

Please Help

The beacon sent out the same automated distress signal every eighteen minutes. It was a simple call for any available assistance, but not one that matched any known standardised format.

This, coupled with the unusually weak range, meant that those who detected and responded to the call usually assumed this was a first contact situation.

Thus, they always approached the same way, they followed the standardised format. They approached slowly, weapons depowered, as they prepared to introduce themselves.

At which point they were wiped out and eaten by the invisible space fairing monstrous creature with a highly developed beacon appendage.

Knowing My Father

I never knew my father.

He was always out fighting wars, coming home just long enough to conceive me. The first memory I have is the man in the trenchcoat coming to our home to tell us he never would again.

I got told all about his heroism, about all the brave things he did, selflessly. Every day, someone would tell me how great a man he was.

I didn't know him, the real him, I just knew the myth, the creation everyone else had made around him.

And then I found his diary, and I've knew him even less.

Your Fate

Dear reader, I wish I could tell you that this ends well for you. I really do, you're clearly a person of taste, sophistication, boredom.

But you've come to me for a short little story, one idea, briefly explored. And for that, you're going to meet with a terrible fate, by the time this ends.

I didn't intend for this to occur, you understand. I hope you would automatically assume as much, but still, considering what's about to happen, I can't assume that.

Well, almost there. I'm really sorry.

Huh.

I guess it isn't going to happen to you.

Yet.

Under Overdosed

It was a perfect plan.

Everyone knew her history of drug use, it was part of the redemption angle she used to sell herself as the best choice to take over once Dr. Fobomi retired.

Everyone knew that, in the lead up to his retirement, he was relying on her more, and thus she was under a lot of stress.

So it would be understandable if she fell off the wagon, and if she overdosed, well, accidents happen.

It was a perfect plan to kill her.

But no, she had to have built up a tolerance and survived, didn't she?

The Holy War

The Holy War lasted for a decade, and was fought against the heathens of the Southern Lands, known as being a land of heathens, fornicators, drunkards. The Alliance of Churches agreed to fund the King's efforts, as he took several of his best companies of soliders into their lands, where the Churches refused to go.

They sent gold and supplies, as the King sent back tales of their battles, until finally returning with many prisoners, several treasures, and a new law that anyone caught lying about the War, like saying it was a decade long party, was to be executed.

His Biggest Regret

Throughout his entire life, of all his regrets, the biggest was the conversation on the dock, or rather the lack of one.

She told him that she couldn't stay with him, that she had to get on the boat, and that if she truly loved her, he would let her go. And he... Stood there. He couldn't argue with her, and he watched her go.

He always wished he'd said what he truly felt, that he could have another chance.

And then he got his chance. He went back, and said all he wished he had.

And she still left.

Of Course You Should

I've seen the blood splatter of who I've loved more than anyone fall on winter snow, spring flowers, summer rains, fall leaves.

My mother, killed as she protected me as we fled through the snow.

My sweetheart, killed as I tried to protect her honor in the spring fields.

My wife, killed as the rain fell at the same time as my kingdom.

My child, killed as I tried to protect them as we fled through the leaves.

So much bloodshed, so much pain. I'd swap with any of them in a heartbeat, and they'd all same the same thing.

Getting Off

"I want to be very clear here. I never intended to hurt anyone."

She laughed, standing up and pressing the gun barrel against his head.

"Oh, well that makes it all alright then. You weren't cruel on purpose, you were just cruel by ambivalence! That makes it all just dandy, don't it?"

He considered it.

"Look, if you just untie me, I-"

She whipped him with the butt of the gun.

"No more lies, 'Boss'! You're not going to-"

The facilitator stood up.

"I think the exercise-"

"Sit down and shut up!"

The facilitator wasn't sure why he said that.

W-RAD FM 235

The last song finished as I handed him the page. He read it as he spoke the usual station ID spiel, then threw it to a bright, boppy tune.

I pointed without looking at his producer.

"Ready to cut in, Sally. Dan, read the thing, we're obligated."

He shook his head.

"Why? They can't change anything, we're all dead in minutes, missiles are on route, let them have their innocence."

"They deserve to say goodbye to their loved ones, and they might have shelters!"

He shook his head, I pulled my gun and fired before Sally got "Fooled you!" out.

Love Lies

She said that she loved me forever, that her love was absolute. I didn't believe her, but I was willing to go along with it.

She expected me to say that I loved her with equal sureness and intensity. I didn't want to, but I really didn't want to disappoint her, even if I didn't love her, I didn't want her upset.

So I lied. And she bought it.

After thirty years, the cancer grew fatal, and at the end, she told me she knew I'd been lying all this time.

I told her I hadn't.

That was a lie.

Choosing My End

I chose the moment of my death carefully.

I had settled the accounts of my life, not telling anyone what I was planning on doing.

I selected the cliff overlooking the sea, deciding that it was beautiful and relatively  peaceful, but given I had to cross a fence to get there, I wouldn't be found by a kid.

I drove there, parked, left a note in the car, and went and sat down.

I drank a bottle of wine, ate a hunk of cheese, and lifted the gun.

I wasn't sure what to do when I couldn't pull the trigger.

Art, Perhaps

I understand that people can sell cheap jewellery. Capitalism and all that, it sucks but what are you gonna do etc.

I understand that cheap jewellery can be religious in nature. Symbolism and all that, what sells sells etc.

I understand that you need to protect even cheap wares before you sell them. Handling and all that.

I understand that cheap things will get cheap, possibly second hand protective coverings. Why spend more on the box and all that.

But I just don't understand why you'd put a necklace of Christ on the cross in a "Bad Bitch" labelled bag.

Bagged

The cop was fairly green, which made him all the more dangerous, as he sniffed around for crimes rather than just take a cut like a good boy.

He nearly arrested everyone on site when he found the little ziptop bags in the trash. His partner tried to explain that they were from the kiosk on the corner, which sold the small bags of gummis and such. But the guy just kept digging and probing.

The day I heard him ask his partner if he knew anything about 'edibles', I pulled the plug on the kisok plan and moved on.

Video Chat

We'd video chat every night my time, morning her time.

We'd treat it as a way to keep using our native tongue, English for me, Japanese for her.

We'd discuss plans and events, although it was an uneven split as most of the time it was events for me, plans for her.

We'd always joke about how she always seemed to cover part of the camera with her thumb, obstructing the view for me, but not for her.

We'd speak every day to hide from ourselves and each other that the relationship was dying, recently for me, long-term for her.

Butterslice

The paperwork said that the horse's name was 'Butterslice'. The name it was most commonly called in the stable was 'fucking demon animal'.

The horse would kick, and bite, and buck, and rear, whenever any attempt was made to move or clean it, and also half the times someone tried to feed it.

Every local cowboy who was sure they could tame it never got it out of the stable.

Until, eventually, the young rookie stablehand hopped on and rode it out safely.

The fact the stable had to be on fire for this to work invalidated its repeated use. 

Impossible Prediction

The future won't look like how you think it will.

There's just far too many variables, from the huge market forces that control governments down to the individual choices that end up snowballing into massive changes.

Every macro and micro factor plays a part, and you can't comprehend them all in one go, let alone predict them.

So we're left with just waiting and seeing how things go, or making guesses and knowing they'll be wrong, but hoping only slightly wrong.

Because only one man ever forsaw the future perfectly, and he then shot himself.

But maybe we'll be ok?

The Worst Part

"And here, we see the 'Statue of The God-'"

The small group of little old ladies I had been guiding through the museum all screamed or otherwise showed shock, so I turned around to find the marble statue moving, bringing a hand up to its face.

It looked at me and spoke in Latin.

"What has happened to me?"

I was glad I didn't fall asleep that much in Latin class.

"You are a statue, is this new to you?"

"Yes."

It looked down, both physically and then emotionally.

"Yeah, that part broke off during the war, sorry about that."

Hyper Efficiency

I was told to wait to see the chairman in his outer office, so I sat there, waiting.

Opposite me, his secretary sat at her desk, effortlessly switching from answering the phone to typing on her computer and tapping on a tablet PC as well. She seemed to know everything she needed to.

I took advantage of a short lull.

"So do you love him or hate him?"

She looked over her glasses.

"Excuse me?"

"Your boss. When someone is as efficient as you, they either hate or love the guy you're working for."

"Sir, I'm a lesbian."

"So?"

"... Hate."

Question Asking

As soon as they got off the bus, they grabbed the first person they saw.

"Do you know Derek Hamelin?"

The young man said no.

The outsider didn't seem to mind, as they just went onto the next person, and the next, and the next.

They asked literally everyone in town, no-one knew. Everyone in town, town's not that big. Then they left.

A month later, guy checked into the hotel, name Derek Hamelin.

He found it impossible to dig up the treasure he and the outsider buried in town years ago, too many people following him around asking questions.

Ammo Code

The slips would be placed in the one-way drawer.

I was supposed to pick up the slip, check the security code against the relevant one for the day, then check the code for the requested ammo, and then if it was all correct, I would then grab the ammo and send it back up.

Of course, I got much quicker once I memorised the ammo codes, and then didn't bother checking the security codes. Made my rate of processing go right up.

And besides, when you're replacing the ammo with cheap knockoffs, who cares if I'm giving it out wrong?