 |
|
http://ksassets.timeincuk.net/wp/uploads/sites/46/2016/11/Black-friday-shopping-1920x1080.jpg
|
This went on for almost
800 years
By BG
Fashion Week became an
institution in the garment industry in the late 20th century when
clothing designers presented their newest work each year. This went on for
almost 800 years. Women became crazed at that time each year. It was an event
that interrupted daily life and exasperated the male population no end.
Finally, as the beginning of the third millennium approached, humankind had evolved
enough that no clothing was necessary and Fashion Week ceased to exist.
 |
|
https://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/04/5c/f6/40/the-museum-of-oddities.jpg
|
I experienced my first
adult thought that day.
By MD
Here’s the thing: There’s
no such thing as an “oddity.” I’ve been imprisoned in this museum for almost my
entire existence and I can tell you – what might seem odd to you is as normal
and natural as living and breathing to the odd one.
It started like this: When
my inventor, a mad scientist type, began fooling around with elixirs, unguents,
potions and remedies, he had no idea that one of his creations would be me.
Among all the inert ingredients, my creator had unwittingly created life. Of
course, it took both of us a while to realize it: me because I was too young,
too fresh from the test tube, so to speak, and Dr. Mad Scientist because he
simply wasn’t looking for it. But awareness crept up on me slowly, as I
identified myself as a sentient being. I experienced my first adult thought
that day. But my dilemma was, how can I alert my creator to this fact? I began
by changing color – he didn’t notice. Next I tried bubbling and foaming – he
thought it was the result of a chemical reaction. When I began to consume the
test tube I came to exist in, he moved me to a cut glass bottle. And when I
began to sing and chant, he finally realized there was more to me than met the
eye. So he stoppered me into my cut glass bottle and carted me off to my
present home – the Museum of Oddities. So here I sit, singing and chanting to
my fellow “oddities” and again I proclaim, “There’s no such thing as an
oddity.” But they don’t respond, and I’ve accepted my fate. But please don’t
think I’m odd. There’s no such thing.
 |
| https://i.pinimg.com/736x/61/9e/aa/619eaa77b638708f746348a62cd3a2d5--lake-cabins-mountain-cabins.jpg |
Sam kept a slow fire
going.
By RC
Sam kept a slow fire
going. There was no reason to burn all the wood at once, and besides, a roaring
fire seemed more fitting for a bunch of people, rather than one lone guy. It
wasn’t so much that Sam was a social kind of guy, but he wasn’t the recluse
type, either. Lately, he had been looking strangely at the deer which happened
by his cabin, and the cute little raccoon that raided his food shed now and
then. Oh, not for food—he had plenty of that laid in. It was just that he was
lonely.
He had been alone when
he had taken from the convenience store whatever food he could fit into his
jeep. He had been alone when he had headed out of town on route 66—not another
vehicle moving anywhere. And he had been alone when he went through Johnstown
and headed up the hills. Not another person anywhere.
It was so beautiful
here at the cabin by the lake, in the quiet of the forest. He could have had
many years of happy times with someone, if there had been someone to have it
with. Why was it that he alone, of all people, should have this rare genetic
trait? Oh, maybe there were a few more like him somewhere on the continent, and
a few on other continents, but he had been told by that specialist on diseases
that he was one in a few hundred million. This was just before the specialist
had collapsed onto the floor. Sam had never thought that he was special in any
way, and now he wished that were really true. But—
What was that? A noise
from without, but not the kind usually made by animals. Sam ran to his window
and looked out. He couldn’t believe his eyes. There, coming down the road, was
a truck, followed by a bunch of cars. He stepped to the door and threw it open,
stepping out onto the porch. The truck had one of those magnetic signs on the
door. It read, “Universal Studios.”
When the truck pulled
up, followed by the cars, and people began emptying out of them, a man
approached him with a big grin plastered across his face.
“I thought we’d find
you here,” the man said with a loud, booming voice. “We wanted to interview the
last man on earth.”
“Wha—what do you mean?”
Sam stammered.
“Well, we know what Mr.
Payne told you,” the man replied. “We wanted to get your impressions and
thoughts about being the last man on earth. It’s been a great study, so far,
watching you get out of town and hide yourself here. What can you tell us?”
 |
|
https://f4.bcbits.com/img/a4052286991_10.jpg
|
Cybernetics views the
human mind-body system as a kind of machine.
By CT
Prof. Goodman was a
proponent of the theory that cybernetics views the human mind-body system as a
kind of machine. Therefore he wasn’t surprised when a new band, “Those Poor
Bastards,” was comprised of steampunk robotics. Their lead vocalist decked
itself out with surprisingly long hair and human hands. The guitarist wore an
Indian head-dress and facial scarf with eyehole screens.
Prof. Goodman grimaced
when the music began. It was awful. The name of the song seemed truly
appropriate – “Sing it Ugly.”
 |
https://www.ropedye.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/Levis-Vintage-Clothing-Moods-Ropedye-5.jpg
Civil war, assassinations
and internal fighting racked the northern states.
By CC
Civil war, assassinations
and internal fighting racked the northern states. Though my home town held many
enticements for me, and I was loathe to leave it, life was just too dangerous
to stay there. Lawyering was my profession and I figured there would be need
for such work out west, but didn’t anticipate the evil that would follow me
there. I found safety in disguise and soon felt more at home as a cowhand than I
ever did in the courtroom. One autumn day when I came back to the barn I heard
the voice of an old enemy raised in anger at my current boss. I knew the evil
ones had tracked me down. When I rode off again, I took a good pack horse with
me as I might be in hiding till things died down. But soon I was branded as a
horse thief, and there was slim hope of hiring as a cowhand again. I decided to
return to the northern states, but this time I’d hide in plain sight. Wild Bill
Hickock’s show was passing through town at the time, so I hired on, and spent
the rest of my brief life as a stage cowpoke, sleeping rough but still free and
happy. I came to my end when a lady in fancy dress with a pretty 5 year old
child at her side took out a pistol and shot me, seeing right through my
disguise to the cad who had abandoned her in such a vulnerable state those many
years ago. Little did she know why I’d run; that secret went with me to the
grave.
 |
|
https://i.pinimg.com/736x/a0/78/53/a07853c8c9f5b0060aeae8a9e90e93b4--formal-dinner-room-accessories.jpg
|
Here the local priest is
performing the daily sacrifice on behalf of the King’s welfare.
By JS
Here the local priest is
performing the daily sacrifice on behalf of the King’s welfare. It was
difficult and the priest knew many would criticize him. After all, who was he
to decide what exactly was the best welfare for the King? Hadn’t dozens of
priests before him suffered the ax or banishment or worse when believing
themselves to be arbiter of the King’s best interests?
Yet, the cowled man took
the coffee cups, and, one by one, dumped their contents into the super-heated
fire. Too much caffeine. It was destroying the King’s ability to sleep, and,
therefore, the tranquility of the kingdom. Next, the bowls. The priest emptied
each of every last Sugar Pop. While advertised as being “tops”, Sugar Pops were
only top in the sugar they contained – more corn syrup, fructose, and refined
sugar than any other breakfast cereal on the market. This excessive sweetness
was not aiding the King in kindness or sweetness; it was turning him into a
hypoglycemic wreck, and thus wrecking the kingdom. Into the ever-burning fire
went the Pops.
The King’s subjects
gasped! No coffee. No Sugar Corn Pops. Would the king sit for this as he had
the infant sacrifices? The virgins sent to a watery grave? The warriors hearts
cut out? Yes, all these he had applauded and glorified the priest’s unctions.
Yet now – caffeine and
Pops – a dark cloud covered the King’s face and the priest, seeing this, broke
out in a cold sweat.
 |
|
https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB17sDDMVXXXXc.XFXXq6xXFXXXs/2016-Autumn-Brown-Navy-Double-Breasted-Mens-Wedding-Prom-Dinner-Suits-2-Pieces-Slim-Fit-Handsome.jpg
|
No-one seemed to mind too
much, for no remedies were suggested.
By RMAF
The long-awaited yearly
company picnic was being held at Free Spirits Park. In the company’s newsletter
announcing the picnic, it read “Come one, come all, come casual-casual-casual,
and we’ll have a ball!”
Everyone at their work
thought Darvel and Marvel were womb-mates and twins, but actually they were
roommates and engaged to be married. But memorable weddings were expensive and
they didn’t make “big bucks” at the company. So everyone went casual but Darvel
and Marvel, who dressed up in their very best clothes and white flower boutonnières. They
invited a liberal minister to meet them at twelve noon at the beautiful octagon
gazebo for their surprise impromptu wedding ceremony. They gave all the members
of their department kazoos so they could happily blow “Here comes the Bride” in
unison as the two very happy guys stepped up into the church-like gazebo. No-one seemed to mind too much, for no remedies
were suggested. There is a quote…”It’s a strange world and I feel it is getting
stranger all the time.”
