Saturday, June 11, 2016

Session June 11 2016



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I would have gotten the promotion, but my attendance wasn't good enough.
by MD

When I left the Lego Factory, I was dismayed.  I had no choice.  That was the expression the factory workers had chosen for me.  Believe me, it was hard to find work with a face like mine!  Finally, someone took a chance and hired me to work with computers -- an apt enough application, I suppose, based upon the reputation of computers and the expression on my face which so well suited the job.

I didn’t know how to deal with it, however, when one day, one of the human workers in the computer lab surreptitiously squeezed me into his pocket and carted me to his home, to be added to his three-year old’s collection of Lego figures.  So there I found myself, mingled with a crowd of Darth Vaders, Minions, Builder Bobs, and Dragon Slayer figurines.  Not a pleasant group to attempt to join, and for the most part, they were a bunch of elitist bullies.  Although I did my best, once again, the expression on my face doomed me to outsider status.


In the meantime, as I understood from conversations I overheard from by kidnapper and his three year old son -- named Jargon, of all things, what parent names their kid Jargon? -- I was missed at the computer lab.  Apparently, I had been destined for a job as an overseer for disgruntled workers as they dealt with the frustrations of computer glitches, but my absence from the plant meant that someone else got the job.  (I think it was a Picachu clone.)  So I was left chagrined again.  It was hard not to suppose that perhaps the fixed expression on my face was indeed some kind of karma.  For me, though, the bottom line was that I would have gotten the promotion, but my attendance wasn’t good enough.







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Every day Lucinda wore fake nails, false eyelashes, and hair extensions
By RC


Every day, Lucinda wore fake nails, false eyelashes, and hair extensions. This was just who she was, so to speak. And if she wore anything else that what fake, I was not aware of it. Lucinda was one of those extravagant personalities, and that alone had gotten her a ways in her acting career, but she seemed to have hit a plateau somewhere along the line. People started turning off to her, and that was no big deal to Lucinda, but when producers and directors turned her away—well, Lucinda was at her wit’s end what to do about it.

Lucinda had a rich uncle though, who really liked her. When he passed away, she got a few things from him. One of them, strangely enough, was his BMW luxury car—really, a dragster in drag. She had always admired it in his driveway when she had come to visit, which was frequently.

“Well, this is a strange turn of events,” Lucinda muttered as she took the keys to the car from her uncle’s estate manager. It so happened that she was on her way to an audition for a scary movie. This was not the type of thing which she would normally have auditioned for, but Lucinda was desperate. She did have the right name for it, after all. She left her old, beat up Audi in the driveway and took off in the roadster—luxury car, whatever it was.

Lucinda was not, of course, ready for this vehicle. She thought later that she had barely touched the accelerator, and yet the acceleration was—well—breathless. When she got to the studio she did not look in the mirror first, she was too frazzled and wanted to get to the ladies room. But she did notice that her nails were gone. The director of the movie just happened to be coming out of the men’s when she came up and he took one look at her and stopped.

“Oh, perfect, Lucinda. Absolutely smashing and brilliant! You’ve got the part.”


Needless to say Lucinda was very pleased, even after she saw herself in the bathroom mirror and passed out. From then on, she discarded everything that was fake.







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She wrote him a long letter, but he didn’t read it.
By CC

She called him before work, but he didn’t answer. She left messages at his job, but he never replied. She wrote him a long letter, but he didn’t read it.

Tilda cradled her head in her hands. All might be lost despite her best efforts. Her daughter would never have the chance to marry again. She would have to go to him in person to plead her case.

She flung her cape around her shoulders and walked out into the frosty morning. St. Petersburg was lovely in January. She had her ice carriage brought around. Such a beautiful carriage would impress him.

Halfway to his dacha, the sun came out. The ice carriage glittered in the sudden flare of light. Water began to trickle down the sides of her carriage.

Oh, no, thought Tilda, who had been so worried about her daughter she had not bothered to check the weather report. Quickly the ice carriage melted into a puddle and Tilda found herself standing on a muddy track in the deep forest.

A peasant cart creaked up behind her. A man sat on a rough wooden seat; the cart was filled with potatoes. He offered her a ride to the dacha. Tilda was mortified, but she could not stay out in the forest all night. She climbed up to the seat, and in another hour the man drove into the courtyard of the dacha and she climbed down.

His dacha was empty, deserted.  She wandered from room to room, aghast. He had run away from them. Her daughter would never marry. She, Tilda, would be stuck with her in the house forever. Tilda stomped around angrily then went back outside.

The sun was low in the sky now. She might as well stay overnight. During the night she was cold and hungry, but safe from wolves. The next day she dug around in the pantry and found some old onions and potatoes. Outside, stray hens left eggs for her breakfast. Pretty soon she had made the house comfortable. She decided it might be time for a country vacation.

When he finally returned to his empty Dacha, the errant suitor found her there, happy and content, and fell in love with her. They married and lived happily ever after.








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Ricardo often went to work drunk.
by TNT

The architect named Ricardo B. designed the low-income housing next to the dam. That was a mistake - although the housing apartments were sturdy, they couldn't quite survive a tsunami. Ricardo worked in an office on the hillside above. He watched in horror as the apartments he designed for the working class people and their families were destroyed. Now he regretted his accomplishments. When his boss refused to allow him to quit in his despondency Ricardo often went to work drunk. He hoped to be fired.

He felt himself to blame because the location of those apartments had belonged to his brother-in-law who made a fortune selling the land - then re-building.