Clarence’s Movie Experience

Clarence looked around the movie set with awe and confusion.

“Mr. Down,” someone called from afar.  Clarence was never comfortable being addressed as ‘mister’.  Despite spending years in public service, ‘Mr. Down’ would always be his father’s name.  He turned to see who was seeking him.

A round man ran toward him.  The film’s producer, Wyatt Pickle.  Clarence doubted that was the man’s given name, but liked to think there was a full lineage attached to the Pickle name.

“Wyatt, good to see you,” Clarence said.  His affable nature and sturdy handshakes were keys to his story; the story that was now being immortalized in a blockbuster movie produced by Wyatt Pickle and a team of movie industry elites. Continue reading

Phil Looks to the Stars

Their first camping trip together was going well.  Day hikes around a forest of enormous trees, campfire roasted hot dogs for lunch, the tent went up without a hitch.  All in all, a good start to something that had a long story ahead of it.

As night fell and the chirping birds gave way to chirping crickets, Phil started to worry.  Stars dotted the sky and the whole of the galaxy was soon dancing overhead.  Phil stared at the stars with a intensity rivaled only by the pressure occurring within each star caught in his gaze.

“An amazing view, isn’t it?” Max asked.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Phil said.  For repeating one word twice, notes of suspicion and distrust were heavy in each syllable.

“You don’t like the stars?” Max asked.

“I don’t like what the stars hold.  Asteroids, black holes, advanced alien life as of yet undetected by our technology.  Space is a menace we know nothing about and it has us surrounded,” Phil said this while keeping his eyes on the majesty of the spiral arm above them.

Max was dumbfounded.

“I mean,” Phil started, realizing his particular outlook on the cosmos may be ill interpreted at first, “those stars sure are a mystery. Right?” He laughed a bit.

“So we’re at the ‘these are my strange, but deeply held beliefs’ phase now.  Okay. Good,” Max said, nodding, “I feel the same way about the ocean.  We have no idea what lurks in the abyss.”  It was now Max’s turn to stare off in the distance.

Phil was happy Max reacted so well, but now he was afraid of the ocean.  It was going to be a weird weekend.

Spider and Monster Have a Chat

“So, reclusive ancient sea monster is your gig, eh?” Spider asked.

“Yeah, it’s pretty sweet. I eat boats on occasion. They think I live in the water! Nope. Basement of the golf club restaurant.” Monster answered.  “What do you do?”

“Oh, I pop up in showers, on walls; the usual jump scare stuff.  Mostly I just leave web absolutely everywhere. People hate touching this stuff.  You should see ’em when it touches their face! Hilarious,” Spider said.

“That’s amazing! But, that does leave a question. Where are you hanging from right now?” Monster asked.

“I stopped questioning that long ago.”

 

Dash Alarm

“Thank you all for being here.  I’m excited to tell you about the opportunity,” the inventor said, giddy with the prospect of investors liking his idea.

“Tell us more about ‘Dash Alarm’,” requested the investor impatiently.

“Dash Alarm sends a signal from emergency vehicles to a flashing light inside cars.  Loud music? Wearing headphones? No worries. Dash Alarm will let you know.  Drivers have a better chance of reacting in time, we overcome sound ordinances, and emergency vehicles will be a little safer at high speeds.” the inventor explained.

The investors huddled for a moment allowing only faint whispers to be heard outside their circle.

“Interesting, but I don’t think people will pay attention to one more light in the cab.  How do you overcome that?” Another investor questioned.

“That’s where our upgraded version comes into play. ‘D@sh @larm.” The inventor said,  “With D@sh @larm, emergency vehicles will tweet drivers letting them know to move over. The driver will check their notifications almost immediately.”

“Now that’s innovation!  People are way more likely to look at their phones while driving than they are to take note of some silly dash board light,” the third investor said, pulling out a check book.

 

Mayor Reynolds’ Bad Day

“Mayor Reynolds, do you have a plan?” The reporter asked.

Mayor Aaron Reynolds looked down at his podium and wondered how to spin why not having a plan was a good thing.

“Folks, I won’t lie and say this is not a concerning issue.  Our town seems to be surrounded by hyper-intelligent alien creatures which resemble adorable rabbits.  Attempts to leave town have proven futile.  To top it off, we don’t know what they want,” the Mayor recapped.

“Have you tried to contact  neighboring villages for help?” Another reporter asked.

“And let them think we’re being held captive by cute bunnies? I think not.”

A murmur of agreement swept the press room.

“So to answer your question, Sarah, the plan is to provide carrots and Trix until things blow over, and avoid giving Parkersville any fodder for the tri-city summer games.  Understood?” The mayor looked over the assembled members of the press.  “Good. Dismissed.”

Wade at the End of the World

If a person could be defined by a sound, Wade could be defined as the rumble of an empty stomach.  People can’t be defined as sounds though, so they are left to be defined by their actions and words.  Wade was better defined as a hunter of prey that probably deserved a head start.

“Would you just stop so I can eat you!” Wade shouted at a very fast chicken. “Dinner for one, to go. Amirite?”

A laugh not his own sounded behind the rubble. At that moment, Wade was defined as the sound of screams on a roller coaster.

The Stone

stones-167089_640“Why are you holding that rock so…creepily.”  Becky was unsure her brother was still sane.

For his part, Ryon was unsure of that as well.  “Becks. This river rock is magical.”

Becky said nothing.

“Watch.  Rock? Pizza.”  Ryon held the rock tight in one hand and a slice of gooey, pepperoni topped pizza appeared in the open palm of the other.

“What the heck?” Becky was paying attention now.

“Right?! I can’t explain it. Rock? Olive pizza.”  Ryon now held two slices.

“Have you only tried pizza?” Becky asked.

“Pizza is everything, Becky.” Ryon said, mid-bite.

“You’re very smart, bro.”