Session July 9 2016

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"I like to swim in that lake," she told him with a smile.

by BG

"I like to swim in that lake," she told him with a smile. 

"Really," he said. "I can't see how you get along with those wings and everything."

"Piece of cake," she said. "Look at all the different kinds of birds that swim and even dive down to the bottom. They've all got wings."

"You're right," he said. "Me, I think I'll pass on all that water stuff. I'm just not into the having to get all wet factor. My skin is soft enough as it is. If I got wet, I think it would just melt right off of me. Case in point, look at my brother here. He took a bath once. And now, look at all I have left of him. The rest of the family's the same: There's only a femur here, an ankle bone there.  

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He was unable to categorize or prioritize and never saw the value in either.

by KC

Lucky Saturday

It was Saturday. It was the same as last Saturday and the one before that.

Josh poured the boiling water into the teapot then walked through the kitchen, past beer bottles, pizza boxes, grocery bags, stacks of magazines and mountains of newspapers. The house was full.

Through the living room, a topiary maze of black and white. The newspapers were stacked five feet high, a canyon of once-read stories, tales of murders, robbery and mayhem.

Josh opened the front door and looked out. There it was, the Saturday paper. Maybe today was the day. Maybe the gods would smile, and Josh would be a winner.

He snatched the paper and walked back past the stacks of newspapers, back to the kitchen, back to the teapot. He poured a cup, placed 5 cubes of sugar into the steaming tea. He opened the paper and looked at the Powerball numbers.

Five-eleven-twenty-twenty four-sixty six and finally sixty eight. He had finally won. His ship came in.

It was Saturday, three months since the millions came in the form of a three-foot check.

Josh's life had not changed, except he had more newspapers. He was still unable to categorize or prioritize and he never saw the value in either.

Nothing had changed. Nothing except for the Rolls Royce coupe in the driveway. The one he now kept his newspapers in.

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They carefully peered through the blinds until they saw her doing it.

by CC

Jonah and Carly Witherspoon had long dreamed of retirement behind the wheel of an RV, and their first destination would be British Columbia. The trip was wonderful and they arrived at the scenic Klikitat RV park around noon a week after they left home. The first night they felt a little strange but they just put it down to travel fatigue. Neither one of them took any notice of the calendar, which showed a strange gap of 3 days in their journey. Neither one noted the soreness behind their right ears.

The next morning they woke feeling much better. However they heard a strange clicking noise coming from outside. Click-click-click, they heard, then a peculiar giggle. Someone was out there doing something strange. They carefully peered through the blinds until they saw her doing it:

An old woman was taking rapid-fire photographs of herself with a disposable camera right outside their RV. She cackled with glee as she shot image after image of herself standing in front of the clubhouse, which had been artfully painted to resemble a native plankhouse. Carly could hear the subtle whirr of a washing machine running somewhere in the depths of the building.

“Hey,” said Jonah to the woman, speaking through the glass. She stopped her photography with a look of embarrassed amusement, and quickly disappeared around the end of their RV.

Neither Jonah nor Carly realized she was a Zeta Reticuli taking photographs to enter snaps of herself and her cleverly disguised spaceship in the “Zetas go Everywhere!” competition in their local military newsmagazine. She was also keeping tabs on the Witherspoons for future organ donation, since the Zetas had thank God already figured out how this species mated, and developed the first crop of developmentally disabled zumans to seed into this planet’s political systems.

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“This is a Japanese doll,” she told him angrily. “It’s not your play toy.”

By RC

Erik knew that things were not going to go right from the moment they sailed into Yokohama harbor. Here, he had been a comfortable passenger on the latest, state of the art ocean liner, when it had sprung a leak and he had been forced—along with all the others—to take more, shall we say, rustic transportation the last leg of the way to the harbor. The boat which he was obliged to get on was ancient and stank of fish. The carving on the prow made it look like some kind of Viking ship, except that it was a dragon, not a mermaid.

Now, Erik was as adventuresome as the next bloke—after all, he was in Japan—but he was also very superstitious, and this was not a good beginning. Nevertheless, he shrugged it off and determined to enjoy his trip.

One thing about taking the alternate transportation into port: there was another gentleman there who was Japanese and who spoke fluent English. They had a rousing conversation about the differences in cultures, about America, and about Japan. Erik was very happy by the time they walked off in Yokohama. He was delighted when the gentleman, a Mr. Hirohito, invited him to his house for tea. Mr. Hirohito was a wealthy merchant and he had some very expensive items in his house. Some of them were Japanese dolls, in glass cases. One, however, was not in a case. It stood on a table in a corner. Unable to resist this captivating piece of what Erik thought of as art, he picked it up to have a closer look. Just then he heard a high-pitched feminine, voice from the doorway of an adjoining room.

“This is a Japanese doll,” she told him angrily. “It’s not your play toy.”

Erik looked toward the voice, and saw a duplicate of the face on the doll, and what he thought of as the real play toy. That was the beginning of his love affair with Miki, the woman who had been the model for the doll. He never went home, and eventually there were two dolls on a table in his own house. And then there were three. And then, four. And so it went, until there were twenty-three. Much later, Erik realized that his early premonition had been totally wrong, and he no longer paid any attention to that kind of thing.

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The door fell open with just a little push and then she screamed.

by AD

She didn't know if it was castle, church or museum, but she didn't care. She had walked all morning looking for something - anything - to do besides sit inside all day. There was no way she would be able to climb up the towers or walls of the building so she went to the door.  The door fell open with just a little push and then she screamed. It wasn't a church, it was a cult. (And that is the story of how Teresa got her tattoos.)

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They danced all night beneath the stars.

by TNT

They met in a ballroom. Both of them were young, good-looking and wealthy. They fell in love and danced all night beneath the stars. Later they got into his convertible to take a ride to the beach. They were ecstatic and deliriously happy, having found their other half. 

Suddenly, from nowhere, a drunk driver in a Buick struck them off the guard railing. They flew down into the rocks below, instantly killing them. So Fate, having a great sense of humor, made them into owls.

They danced...  They met in the ballroom. They danced all night beneath the stars. They fell in love - but they were just two little owls in the moonlit snow. Reincarnation plays strange jokes.