My sister asked to chat, and we found a coffee shop to sit in.
I asked her what was wrong, and she poured her heart out to me. She went over all her previous relationships and how they all ended in pain. I knew this, and knew she was the real cause.
I didn't tell her this as she went on to reveal that she'd met someone, but she was hesitant to pursue him.
I asked who, and she showed me a photo of the guy I hated more than anyone.
I heartily encouraged her.
It went badly.
For me.
The gunslinger came into town, and walked into the saloon, taking a seat at the bar.
The bartender walked over, cleaning a glass.
"What can I get ya?"
"A glass of whisky, and directions to Red Dawn McGree."
The saloon fell silent as the bartender poured out a whisky, and one of the locals approached him.
"Why you after him, stranger?"
The gunslinger knocked back the whisky.
"He killed my brother."
The local sighed.
"And you want revenge?"
"You're damn right."
"Well, see, Red Dawn is, well, a fantasy we created."
The poison in the whisky kicked in pretty quickly.
I coughed up some gunk and spat it over the edge of balcony into the sea.
At least, that was the intention, but there was a boat down there, and after I'd let it go, I saw it fly down and land on the book in the hands of the man in the small boat.
He looked at it, then up at me, and then quickly hopped out onto the dock, and approached me.
I tried to stammer out an apology, before he handed me a Doctor's card.
"This looks infected, come see me in my office to run tests."
I walked around the corner and paused when I saw the coffee shop closed and boarded up.
Now, I understand that capitalism is horrible and such, and that having businesses close is part of that. I don't blame the owners, I assume, for having to close up for whatever reason.
But this was where I found the joys of coffee, where I met my wife, where I proposed to her. And now it was closed, and was set to become a Gentleman's Club, according to the signs in the windows.
So I guess it wasn't a complete loss overall, really.
The people were saved because the war was won by the Empire.
The war was won because the Empire broke the code of the Alliance's communication.
The code was broken because one lone encoder used his girlfriend's name as the base word for multiple messages.
The encoder was in love with his girlfriend because she was there when he dumped his last girlfriend.
He dumped his last girlfriend because she wouldn't give him blowjobs.
So, that's why I don't give blowjobs, because I could end up saving the world.
No other reason.
But men going down on women, that's good.
I won't bore you with the details of how I got frozen, since it is almost certainly unreplicable.
Plus the people who were looking after me here in 2146, they're more concerned about history, at least for them. Every day I had to talk about how I felt about various things, and how I thought other people thought.
Eventually, when I had enough at being held and having to answer stupid questions all day, i escaped the building I was being held in.
Turns out I was being trapped in a market research company, and I hadn't actually been frozen.
The Dark Emperor, it was foretold, would be killed by the sword that killed their father. When the plucky band of misfits managed to get to the throne room with the sword, the Dark Emperor thought he was dead. But in the fight, he managed to break the sword at the hilt, and drive the misfits away.
He had the blade melted down under gus supervision, and turned into a set of steel plates he fed his pet dogs off.
But then the plucky heroes returned, and killed him, with a new sword.
A new sword with an old hilt.
The Wizard led The Swordwoman into the inner sanctum of the old decaying temple, before he began to study the engravings on the wall in the flickering light of the torch.
"Hmmm. Interesting. It says her that the secret to unlocking the hidden door in here... Huh, it is for two people to engage in sexual congress."
The Swordwoman stared and then laughed.
"You and your convoluted set-ups."
Unfortunately, as the two came together and started to kiss, The Wizard had failed to learn that the temple was for a God of Celibacy, and he still had some power left.
I walked into the bar and was surprised to see Gary sitting at the bar, enjoying a beer.
I approached him slowly.
"Hey man. Surprised to see you here."
"Oh yeah, I totally hate this place."
"I just, isn't it your anniversary today?"
"Yep!"
I awaited further information, none was forthcoming.
"And you're here because...?"
"Oh, right! Well, I've made sure to make it seem like I've forgotten every major date, she thinks I don't remember any of them, so that if I ever actually forget something, she won't know!"
"Wouldn't it be better to just remember things?"
He blinked.
One of the other guards walked into the hallway towards his cell.
"The Warden asks what the hold-up is, the prisoner was supposed to be in the chair half an hour ago."
I sighed.
"'Prisoner Treatment Act (2004), Clause 5, subsection iv' clearly indicates if we award a last meal, they must be allowed to finish it. And look."
I pointed into the cell, where the prisoner was most of the way through the super jumbo bucket of popcorn shrimp.
The other guard blinked.
"What about his shellfish allergy?"
The Prisoner slowly fell over, flipping us the bird while dying.
It started with tripping as I got out of bed and hitting my shoulder on the wall.
It became a theme when my coffee mug broke and spilt coffee all over me.
Rush hour traffic was expected, sure, but it still made things worse.
Work was, well, it was work, so it kept everything bubbling along.
Yet more rush hour traffic, yet again expected, although the fender bender causing extra delays was a twist.
And then when I got home, I dropped my key in the dark of my garden.
And then I truly lost it.
Still looking for it.
He'd spent most of his life running, a new name and identity every time they got close. In a hundred towns in the world, he had caches of weapons and supplies, as well as allies who didn't know who he truly was but would do as he asked.
And one thing he always arranged was that if he was going to fake his death, someone would arrange for his grave to be full of weapons.
But this time, he'd fallen in love, for a given value of the term, and his grieving lover was left to arrange a cremation ceremony.
In the moments after she broke my heart by rejecting me, the plan sprung fully formed in my mind.
So I graciously accepted her rejection and agreed with her that we should remain friends. And so, over a few years, I worked on making her see me as who she wanted, be it going to the gym, volunteering at her preferred charity, and being a good friend.
And eventually, after another of her relationships ended, she came to me and offered herself to me.
And I...
I accepted. Because I still loved her, plus I felt like a new man.
I want to make it clear from the start that the theories that being able to imagine a thing doesn't automatically mean it exists somewhere in the multiverse, which also isn't infinite.
Because otherwise asking you to imagine the creature that cannot be seen, because it instantly and continuously repositions itself to be right behind you if it chooses you as its victim, until it finally attacks and devours your mind from behind with great ferocity, that would be cruel.
But don't worry, imagining it doesn't bring it into existence.
Doesn't mean it doesn't already exist though, to be fair.
So a few days ago I wrote a story making it seem like maybe I was self-referentially referring to the blog while writing like a chatbot writing about the same. That was me, for the record. But I had wanted to do a follow up where I actually would ask a chatbot, the one in the news, to do a 100 word story about doing a 100 word story. But when I tried it, while it did give me a 100 word story about 100 word stories, it was obvious that it was the chatbot.
Unless I wasn't that obvious...
She had begged me to let her remain on my ship for a few cycles, until the robot hunters her father sent after her were gone. I had agreed, but at the very first job I took, she was already causing trouble.
She watched as the cargo I was hired to move came aboard, then once we were out of the atmosphere, she glared at me.
"We're going to the nearest alliance station and freeing these slaves, yes?"
I sighed.
"First rule out here, don't cause trouble. Second rule, don't get caught."
I initiated my "Cargo Lost To Pirates" program.
The vault door had been the strongest and most secure in the world when it was installed. But after a few dozen years of rust build up, it was practically impossible to open. The Boss wanted to blow it, ready to accept some loss of loot in the process. But I swore to him that I could open it. I had brought it to him and his gang, after all, and I told him, with some science and electrical current, I could get it open.
He agreed, and I stalled until my fellow cops arrived and started arresting them all.
I looked back and forth between the man and the button he was holding.
"So I press the button, I get a million dollars, but a random stranger dies? How?"
"Does that matter?"
"Yes, it does. Do you have a sniper or something somewhere?"
"No, they just drop dead, their heart stops."
"Directly after I press the button? It causes it?"
"Yes, plus the bank transfer."
"I need some time to think about it, may I keep it?"
"Of course, no problem."
A few months later, the local university annouced a breakthrough in long range communication and data transfer technology.
As far as mysteries went, it wasn't that big a deal in the grand scheme of things. Just an annoyance, as someone kept stealing my junk mail from my mailbox in the lobby of my apartment complex.
Now while I'm sure some of you are already laughing at the idea of someone actually wanting their junk mail, I at least wanted the option to throw it out, you know?
Eventually I set a camera and filmed the lobby for answers.
Turns out that mailmen can take the wrong impression from half heard complaints and assume you don't want junk mail.
The team looked to me, surrounding the whiteboard in my hand.
I had maybe 5 seconds to think.
We needed to score, quickly.
4 seconds.
Their defence was airtight as soon as we got close.
3 seconds.
When they attacked, their entire team was like a well oiled machine.
2 seconds.
We can't be that, but...
1 second.
Their entire team?
"Ok boys, here's the plan, we need to let them attack..."
I drew the plan, and then they took the field once more.
They lured them in, got the ball, charged up the field, and...
Missed by one second.
The author was tired of having to think of new plots every day, to post on his blog. He could have just stopped writing, but he still wanted to continue. Just with less work.
So when he heard that Artificial Intelligence bots were now able to write stories that were actually good, according to the techy types who were using bots, he loaded one up and asked it to write him a story with exactly and only 100 words in it.
But the bot needed a plot, and so he used the obvious.
I think I've done a good job.
After several long moments of firing at each other, we both ran out of ammo at the same time. We both reloaded, and we both knew it was be a minute before our laser weapons were ready. So he called out over his barricade.
"You can give up now, I'll make your death quick and painless."
I called over mine.
"You honestly think I'd agree to that?"
"Well, considering that I'm going to hunt down and shoot your wife if you don't, yes."
I sighed and stood up.
"Fine."
He stood up as I threw a knife into his head.
I stood at the lectern, looking down at the notes on them, and the speech written upon the notes.
All I had to do was read the speech, and I'd get the power I'd wanted all my life. Sure, I'd have to give up my morals, my self-respect, everything that I had wanted to do, wanted to be, just to get the power.
Of course, that was not a fair trade off. I shouldn't have to sacrifice that just to get the power I so desired.
And that's true. I shouldn't have to do that.
I read the speech anyway.
Ok, so imagine you're one of the protectors of the universe. But for whatever reason, there has to be a cube the size and weight of a hamburger in this universe that you can't destroy or break or do anything to, because any damage to it might lead to the end of all things. Now, if that exists, what would you do with it, considering you might one day be gone?
If you answered 'set up a secret cult like group to protect it', can I ask what you'd do if said cult managed to lose the cube?
No reason.
He entered the office and grabbed three forms and filled them out quickly before placing them on my counter.
"I'd like a license please."
I looked over the forms.
"You'll also need a EC-56 form."
Again...
He entered the office and grabbed four forms and filled them out hurridly before slamming them on my counter.
"I'd like a license."
I looked over the forms.
"This is a EC-52 form, you need-"
Again...
He entered the office and grabbed gour forms and filled them out angrily before slamming them on my counter.
"License!"
"Manners."
He shot me.
Understandable, but no, again...
I held the Zippo out at arm's length, flicking it alight and then waiting.
After a moment, he noticed the flame, and the gasoline on the floor between us. He began to struggle against his bonds.
"Better hurry up, the fumes are what catches!"
He struggled harder.
"Oh come on! When you did this to my little girl, she was halfway free by now!"
He glared at me.
"I told you, that was just orders!"
I shook my head.
"And I told you, I don't care!"
I dropped the Zippo, only to find out it had a safety feature.
Disappointing.
