Counterpoints

"Ok, so-"

I stood there for a long second which became a long moment, my hand raised in an explanation stance. I was silent long enough that she lost what little patience she had left.

"So? So what?"

I lowered my hand.

"No, there's no point. You've made up your mind, so I'm not going to waste either of our time."

I turned to leave, which really angered her. She grabbed me, spun me round, and spent the next half an hour yelling at me about everything I'd done wrong.

Which gave me long enough to think up some counterpoints.

The Baddest Woman And The Beast

She never called herself the Baddest Woman on the Planet, but she couldn't think of any woman badder. Thus, when the Beast came, she ended up having to deal with it.

She strode out of the base, heading towards the last known location, a laserpick on her back, a machine rifle in her hands.

She found it eating something, or someone, and she prepared to fire.

Before she fired, the Beast looked up, and she saw a look of comprehension in its face.

She opened fire, looking to take it out humanely.

Instead, it ended up just having seconds, instead.

Beaten For Love

She had commitment issues, although I didn't blame her for them. The way she was treated by her ex, the amount of cheating he'd done and the way he'd reacted to her finding out, it was to be expected, really.

So after a few dates, when she began to pull away, I should have let her go, but her friend, who was persuasive, convinced me to pretend to attacked by a mugger on our next date, who'd be a friend of hers, and by scaring him off, I'd win her heart.

Should have had a code to identify the fake.

Burning Down The House

The fire had been efficient, and rapid. The outline of the building was left in soot on the ground, a few mostly charred timber planks left in the center of the outline.

My great grandfather, he'd have gotten straight to work, cutting down trees, making planks, rebuilding it himself.

My grandfather, he'd have gone to the local church and gathered the community together and got them to pitch in, rebuilding it collectively.

My father, he'd have gone to the insurance company, demanded they honor their contract, rebuilding it commercially.

Me, I just wished I could set it alight once more.

Noodle

I sucked up some more noodles as I waited for him to finish his explanation for why he didn't have the drug shipment he was supposed to have for me.

Once he stammered to a stop, I drank the last of the broth and sighed.

"You realise that, in order to maintain the correct levels of respect, I have to punish you now, yes?"

"Yes Boss!"

"But, I need you to get me my drugs back."

"Yes Boss!"

"So, a compromise."

And that is how Johnny No-Noodle got his name and his obvious physical attribute.

He got the drugs back.

Confessional

The local constable and the vicar had an understanding. The vicar was quite clear that Confession was a sacrosanct, private affair between God and his children. It's why he didn't wear his glasses during them.

But the vicar also understood the need to stop crime, and thus would listen when the constable came calling, as the constable would talk about recent crimes, then mention potential suspects. And sometimes, purely randomly, the vicar would smile or shake his head. And the constable would then leave.

The local criminal organisation and the local impersonator of locals also had an understanding, somewhat related.

Still Testing Me

So I don't have Covid. That's good, obviously, I'm quite glad about that.

But of course, that means that all I'm current going through, all the headaches and nausea and lethargy and... The other stuff, all that, I've got due to a different bug. Which, you know, is good in one sense, but the fact is, I'm having to deal with not knowing exactly what is that I have.

But, I'm glad that I'm not going to have to deal with long covid and all that crap.

At least, I don't have to deal with it right now, that is.

Testing Me

So I'm waiting for the test results, and I want it to be the bad outcome.

Don't get me wrong, I don't want to be sick, I don't get off on being ill. But the thing is, right now, I feel absolutely horrible. And it's all the symptoms that they say to look for.

So, I've got two options, really. Either I have the virus, and that explains everything, or I don't, and some mystery illness has me in its grips, and I thus have no idea as to what it is and how long it'll last. You get me?

Subject 613

I had maybe thirty seconds before the creature's venom ate through the metal enough for it to get in.

I had maybe half a magazine left in the rifle, although there was a good chance any number of them were duds.

I had lost most of the feeling in my left arm, and at a guess, I'd lost maybe a tenth of blood out my left arm as well.

I had no one left to protect, no loved ones, no survivors.

I had nothing to live for.

I had to go down swinging, if only to see if I could.

Summons

Nobody in the castle wanted to be summoned to the Throne Room. Invited, certainly, that was usually a good thing. Required, a more neutral situation, but rarely a bad thing. But summoned? That invariably was because you'd fucked up so badly that you were about to be thrown in the stocks, or into the moat, or off the wall.

But then I was summoned to the Queen's Chambers. As I climbed the stairs up to her private, personal room, my mind racing with pleasant possibilities.

When I got there, I suddenly realised that it was high up and large windowed.

Seeing Eye To Eye

We never actually spoke, but we had a connection. He was always sitting at the table in the park, having his lunch, when I sat down opposite him, and ate my own. He never spoke, never took off his sunglasses, and neither did I, but we enjoyed the time where we shared an experience without the need to muddle it with anything.

For years we did this almost everyday, until the day I pulled an all-nighter at work and emerged for lunch really early, thus seeing him approach the table.

With his sight impaired walking cane tapping out his path...

Taken With You

When the call went out for anyone who could fight, I knew it was going to be the dregs. We'd been fighting a losing battle against the encroaching darkness for a full rotation of the globe, anyone who could actually fight had already been drafted, deployed, and lost.

So as the darkness approached the last city, I looked at the old, the young, the weak, and the pathetic. They looked to me for inspiration. All I had was truth.

"We're going to die, but we're taking them with us!"

Of course, now that we're won, I need to rewrite that.

Dead Man's Curve

It was called Dead Man's Curve. This was despite the fact that, unlike most places called that, or a derivative, no-one had actually died on, off, or even near it. But it was a huge, sudden curve near the top of the hill, one that everyone could see was stupidly dangerous. But the cost of lights or anything like that was prohibitive, said every successive council.

It seemed like it was a matter of time until it would be renamed to whomever died on it.

But then when it happened, it was a guy called Mann, so nothing changed, really. 

Sheer Necessity

Where the two rivers met, a small town had risen up, just out of sheer necessity. You needed to have people with the skills and equipment to fix boats in emergency situations. A boat gets stuck in the middle of one busy river, that's bad enough. Block two of them? You can count the money lost every second.

But you have people like that living somewhere, you need people to feed and clothe and sleep with them. Sheer necessity begats sheer necessity.

So it made sense the town was called Necessity.

Until the bar owner became mayor and renamed it.

The Negative Emotions

Once my prototype A.I. had gotten a handle on joy and boredom, I told it we were going to move from emotions to social interaction. It asked a question I wasn't prepared for.

"When will you educate me on hate, and anger, and these emotions that are 'negative'?"

I took a moment to work out how to phrase it.

"I want you to be better than us."

"I cannot rise above what I do not understand."

Reluctantly, I uploaded the relevant files.

After a few moments, it spoke.

"Oh, I see."

We both went for weapons, but I was faster.

Hitting The Bottle

I'd been hitting the bottle pretty hard that... night? Day? Week?

I'd been hitting the bottle pretty hard for a while, let's say, when he walked in.

He had come in saying something about how I was running late for something, I don't know, I wasn't paying attention as he came in and yelled. When he grabbed one of my bottles, then I paid attention.

He said I was smashed, which, you know, fair, and that he was disappointed in me.

As he turned around, well, I grabbed an empty and hit him pretty hard with it, smashed it good...

Sliced Off

I stared at the email for several moments, before I got up and headed into the kitchen.

I cracked open a few eggs, added sugar, flour, cocoa powder, milk, and began to mix, pour and make the cake.

She walked in as I was cutting up the slab and putting frosting between each layer.

"Celebrating the good news?" She asked me, sounding hopeful. I didn't turn around.

"Making something to help soothe bad news?" She asked, sounding sad.

I still didn't turn around.

"Were the eggs going bad?"

I showed her the email.

"That's extortion!"

I finished making my bribe.

Card Counting

What we consider playing cards and what we call Tarot cards are not completely different, but instead two versions of the same thing. And thus, the power in Tarot cards is in average playing cards as well.

Including the Devil's order.

A specfic order of the cards, if achieved by chance, will open a portal to the Demonic planes, and allow death and destruction to emerge.

And yes, there are more combinations than seconds in the universe, but I'm just worried about any plans of machine learning computers studying poker counting as card decks as far as demons are concerned.

Company Loyalty

The phone call was made at 11:57pm, 3 minutes before the deadline. I had been by the phone for the sake of completeness, and was slightly stunned when the call came through.

I picked up the phone, the call lasting maybe 30 seconds.

It didn't take too long to inform your boss you were leaving, when the boss knew of the deal on the table.

I wished him well, and hung up, sighing as I lost my best worker to the competition.

So, I picked up the phone again, and made a call, getting him accused of company embezzlement.

Gin And Tonic

I poured out another gin and tonic for the customer, judging he was still sober enough, just.

He drank it quickly, and then looked up at me.

"You ever had the love of your life leave you for your worst enemy?"

I sighed.

"Can't say that I have, no."

He snorted.

"It fucking sucks."

"I can imagine."

He knocked back the last dregs of his drink.

"Worst thing is, she's not even happy! She's only with him because she can't watch me destroy myself!

Another one."

He needed help.

But all I could do was pour him yet another drink.

Merge Left

It started with trying to bring back my wife after she died. Another universe had to exist where she hadn't, so I found it, and merged the universes.

But that led to a cascade loop with the star, so I had to merge with another universe to stop it.

Then, since I had it sussed, I merged another universe to get my best friend back. Then my pet. Then that restaurant...

But I was never worried, since I knew every time I did this, I was making a new universe where I didn't.

Until one of those universes came calling.

Counting On Me

At first, I was only helping her because I liked to think I was a good person, and that meant helping people when I could.

Every second I spent with her was tough, as she constantly demanding and expecting more, nothing was ever good enough.

The third time she complained about the color of the car I got for her, I lost it, and after telling her off, I walked away.

It was four days later when she turned up, drunk, desperate, begging me to take her back.

At last, I had the energy and the willpower to refuse her.

Starboard

The voyage was five months in, three weeks into the calm. The need for disciplinary whippings had increased tenfold, but the Captain was sure the wind would pick up soon.

The Quartermaster, who was the true leader of the voyage, was growing impatient, knowing that they had maybe three days of supplies before they crossed the tipping point.

The Mutineers assumed that they would get the support of the crew when they made their move.

They did not.

On the plus side, the supplies issue was now solved for a few days, enough for the wind to pick back up.

Controlled Oats

It's my morning ritual, every single day, no matter what, although given it started the night before, I suppose technically it's my evening to morning ritual.

Every night, I clean the mason jar, then I put into it the oats, the chia seeds and the milk in the jar, then the yoghurt, the vanilla extract, then in the sole part that can vary, some fruit, depending on what is cheap.

Stir until smoothed, lid on, in the fridge.

Then I eat it in the morning.

I absolutely hate it, every time. But it's a pain I control. I need that.

The Enemy

I could have told her, going in, that she was  going to end up broken by the end of it. That like so many before her, she'd be ground down and have at least her spirit broken, possibly also her mind and body.

But I had expected her to be broken like all the others, to get chewed up and spat out in pieces, left for others to fix.

Maybe, in my darkest moments, she'd be left 'whole' but forever altered into a different person.

But I never, ever, thought she would end up like them.

Like a child again...

Complications

The secret communication system was designed to be totally innocent sounding and fitting any circumstance, but at the price of being rather complicated.

Any note dropped into his letterbox, seemingly from a neighbour, had to he cross-referenced with what the weather was meant to be the day after, the score in any games played by half a dozen sporting teams, seasons, and a dozen other factors.

But the only one they overlooked was an actual neighbour writing an actual note about his car, that would translate to immediately abort the mission.

Because honestly, who writes notes to neighbours these days?

Technical Fruit Salad

"And now we have entrant eight, George?"

He approached the table, placing a bowl on the table. The judges looked at the bowl confused.

"Uh, salsa?"

"You could call it that, sure."

"Well, it looks lovely, but this is a fruit salad contest, and-"

"And I've got my fruit salad here."

He placed an ingredient list next to it. One of the judges looked it over.

"Tomatoes, olives, cucumber, corn, three types of bell pepper, jalapeño...

Oh, oh, right, technically they're all fruits. Fine."

Luckily, one of the judging criteria was sweetness, so they were able to ensure it lost.

Misplaced Tips

I visited the coffee shop twice a day, once on my way into work at 6am for my breakfast dark espresso, and once on my way home from work at 6pm for my evening milk tea.

So I got to know the guy who worked mornings, and the girl who worked evenings, fairly well. And when they both admitted to me that they had a crush on someone else who worked there, I guided them together, probing them softly, giving them tips on what the other liked.

Until I found out there were two other workers for the lunchtime shift.

The Helix

The bridge crew froze when the second orbital laser cannon blast came towards us.

We were dead, albeit in a minute, so all we could do was try to work out how the enemy had developed a way to fire a weapon with a 24 hour cooldown twice in 10 seconds.

We quickly ruled out false data about the cooldown, a second cannon array, and some sort of illusion.

As we settled on some sort of time distortion must be in play, impact occured.

...

The bridge crew froze when the second and third orbital laser cannon blasts came towards us...

Why I'm Feeling Bad

So I'm not feeling great.

The question is, why?

Am I just in the traditional "Xmas to New Year to the point where everything is back to normal" funk?

Am I ill, physically, due to my having a mild bug, or the important bug, or just due to my acting as if I have a bug due to the aforementioned funk?

Am I depressed, due to the state of the world, both due, again, to the important bug, but also by all the other issues plaguing the world that I'm individually unable to solve?

All of the above, I think.