Stevens Plays the Hero

“Tend to the wounded!” Sgt. Stevens commanded what remained of the division’s medical troops.  Stretchers entered the room a heartbeat later, injured soldiers moaned and the troops carrying them could not hide their fatigue.  As soon as all three stretchers were safely inside, they were dropped to the floor and the doorway barricade was reassembled.

“Stevens, you crazy maniac, what is going on out there?” Finletter asked.  Through attrition alone, Finletter had come to be the formal leader of this unit that had made a home out of a 12th story suite in a Holiday Inn somewhere outside Chicago.  Their mission began in Provo, Utah but the enemy pushed them east day after day.

“They were waiting for us, Fin.” Sgt. Stevens said, his usually gruff voice had given way to something like sadness.  “Have you heard anything from, sheesh, I don’t know, anywhere? Anyone?”

Finletter shook his head, “communications are down.  Yonkers to the Yukon, I haven’t picked up anything.”

Stevens stood at a boarded up window and tried to look at the street below, watching for enemy movement.  They were everywhere.  He realized in that moment the final days of this war were upon them all and they were on the losing side.

“Then there’s only one thing left to do,” Stevens grabbed for his sidearm.

“Sargent, the only we can do is wait for reinforcements.  The Tomatoes are too much.  We can fall back.  They’ll freeze in a good Canadian winter,” Finletter pleaded with the informal leader of the unit to make a good decision.

“No, boss. You folks get out of here. My path goes elsewhere. I’m off to make ketchup,” Stevens loaded his weapon, removed the barricades from the door and went outside to play hero.

 

That’s how I’d gritty reboot the crud out of Return of the Killer Tomatoes.

 

Thanks for reading!

Jerri Hit a Road Block

“Oh crap, folks.” Jerri the Fire Ant was displeased.  Her colony had marched for days across desert sands with little to no obstruction.  Now she stared down a green wall thirty times her size and seemingly impenetrable.  The colony would have to find another way.

“This puts an end to this path.  Let’s camp here for the night.  Send scouts to the north and south, see if this…thing has an end,” Jerri commanded.

“Commander, I have an idea,” Frank the Fire Ant spoke from the column.

“What is it, Frank?” Jerri was open to anything at this point. The column had to move.

“Step aside, sir,” Frank walked to the green wall and did what he did best; ate.  “Oh my goodness it is delicious.”

“Frank, you’re a disturbing genius.  Everyone! Eat!” Jerri ordered.

 

And that is how ants discovered salad.

 

Thanks for reading!

Books, bad art, and mugs available too.

Cassius and the Barn

The night had turned grim.  Cassius, bucked by his horse, was lost in a land far from home.  He knew but two things; first, the approaching storm brought with it a dire time for any caught outside. Second, the dot on the horizon appeared to be a barn.

He ran with all the speed he could muster and crashed through what remained of the barn door moments before hail began to fall from the sky.

“What fortune,” Cassius said, panting against the doorway. Continue reading

First Overnight

“Okay, if you need us call either cell.  Kids be good! Love you bye!” The drop off took two minutes before ‘mom and dad’ left the grandparents’ house and returned  to being Dan and Carol.  They hit 20 miles an hour before the end of the driveway.

“First overnight!” Dan cheered.  “I cannot believe how quiet this car can be.”

“Okay, we can hit the sushi place for a quick dinner.  Followed by the new brewery for lagers.  We’ll see how things are going at that point, and maybe catch a movie afterward,” Carol enthusiastically laid out the evening’s plan.

“Great stuff.  We do have to run home real quick,” Dan said.

“Fine, but it has to be quick.” Carol said.

Before they knew it, phone alarms were sounding.

“What the heck is that sound?” Dan said, shooting up from the couch.

“6:30?” Carol asked in horror.

“We slept the whole night away?”  Dan said, realizing the mistake.  “I call that a successful first overnight.”

Escaping the Island

The island was nice for the first year, a fine home the second year, and by the third year Janet had resigned herself to living on this uncharted piece of earth for the remainder of her days.  At the start of the forth year, 48 months after the cruise ship capsized,  48 months after a a turtle grabbed the broken door she was floating on and raced away from the scene; something changed.

The island could no longer be her home.  She missed Netflix and grocery stores, bar crawls and email.  To some degree she even missed her neighbors. Continue reading

Marty Made It

“Ah, it ain’t that bad,” Dan joked.  He proceeded to cough blood.  “At least you stopped the zombies. You saved us all.”

“It’s just you and me, Dan. We’re all that’s left,” Marty said.

Dan lay propped against a ram shackle chicken coop, knowing his final moments were upon him.  Marty knelt, weeping and shaking.

“Wait, wait. Seriously?” Dan asked.  He shimmied himself to be more upright and looked Marty right in the eyes.  “You’re going to be the sole survivor of this? Boy howdy, that’s terrible luck.”

“What?” Marty was confused. Continue reading

Rico and the Long Awaited Exciting Afternoon

Chores. Rico hated chores.  Errand running, groceries, laundry; the routine tasks that form the very foundation of the society he so enjoyed otherwise.  He hated them.  Every outing for electrical tape, every time he cleaned out the cat’s litter box, he wished for something exciting to happen.  Anything to make the time move a little faster.

Returning from a particularly bland run to the barber, he found himself standing at the entry way of his apartment complex checking every pocket on his person for keys.

“Drat,” Rico muttered as he patted down his pants and jacket.

“Rico!” Called the familiar voice of his neighbor, Jon.  “Rico, wait up.”

The relief Rico felt in having something out of the ordinary happen, finally, was delightful.  He ran a hand through his freshly cut hair and forgot for just a moment about his key problem.

“Jon! How are things, man?” Rico asked.  He extended a hand in anticipation of a high five.

Jon followed form, extending his hand as well, but Rico noticed something odd.

“What’s that in your ha-” Rico said.

His words were cut short by a blast of purple spray paint from Jon’s previously unknown object.  Three more sprays followed.

“Jon! What the heck, man?” Rico was furious.

“This Facebook post told me to tag my friends!” Jon said.

“Aw. Jon, you consider us friends? That’s awesome, buddy. Thanks.” Rico was oddly touched, if looking like a tropical fish.

“Well, Facebook friends anyway,” Jon clarified.