Even-Handed

He sat there, smoking his pipe, before speaking softly.

"The Empire says that they are the good guys, keeping the peace and protecting the common people, while the Rebels say that they are the good guys, fighting for freedom and an end of tyranny. Every move is either a necessary operation or oppression, criminal acts or guerrilla warfare."

"And of course the truth is somewhere in the middle, yes?"

The old man looked at him.

"What? No, don't be ridiculous, the Rebels are clearly right!"

"But, a balance of views-"

"And the Empire is obviously wrong, there, totally fairly even-handed."

Non-Drabble: Absence

Hiya. So, yeah, I'm currently under the weather with Covid. Thus, I'll be non-posting for a bit while I recover.

Drabbles will return as soon as possible.

Four Wishes

The genie emerged from the lamp and bowed.

"You have four wishes, Master."

I paused.

"Four? Not three?"

"Four is the better number."

"Fair enough. I wish to be a trillionare."

The Genie crossed their arms.

I found myself sitting on top of a pile of money, while all around me bullets flew.

"I wish to reverse that last wish!"

Things returned to normal.

"That's not what I asked for!"

"You didn't say it shouldn't be like that."

It took me a year to work out my third wish's wording, an hour to say it, a minute to reverse it.

Limbo's Gate

Everyone had the same amount of time to plead their case to enter heaven, but to provide a level playing field, they had as long as they wanted to prepare.

Trillions of trillions had appeared here in limbo, prepared, stepped forward, and then been lifted up or dropped down. But the number of arrivals had slowed, stopped, until finally one soul remained.

I stared at him, as his details flickered over him.

"You've been here for a billion plus years? You need that long?"

"No. But I'm not playing."

Given I'd stop existing if he stepped forward, I allowed it.

Mr. Shakespeare

William Shakespeare is one of those people who turns up a lot in pop culture for a variety of reasons, and even more ways. And one of those ways is in meta commentary on high and low art. How he wrote his plays to appeal to the lowest common denominator and now they're hailed as the pinnacle of Western Culture, capitals included.

But he was about crass humor, violence, and grand, sweeping storylines. People say that if he was alive today, he'd have a 3 picture deal with Paramount.

I disagree.

If Shakespeare was alive today, he'd be booking pro-wrestling.

The Blank Page

The blank page.

For some, it's a blessing. No limitations, you take a pen, and you can write anything, engineer any emotion, it's all in front of you.

For others, it's a curse. Nothing to start with, nothing to work with, you are forced to confront your own limitations as you have none others to guide you.

And for others still, there's no emotional attachment. It's just part of the job. They exist to be filled, no more, no less.

As for me, any day that I don't think what I've done is worse than a blank page, I'm happy.

Don't Rock

My therapist was trying to find a way to understand me, for some reason. We'd tried all sorts of different activities, none of them satisfactory to her.

She'd turned, in desperation, to rock garden building, giving me a small tray and a collection of rocks and sand.

I just fiddled, making a design that was, fine, I guess. But she seemed very excited, as she compared it to a book. She then asked me to try again.

She seemed rather disappointed when I produced the exact same design. She asked me why.

"You seemed to like it."

That confused her.