Session June 30, 2018

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And then the impossible happens.

By CT

The Annual Holiday meeting of Cats, Inc. promised to be a delectable feast... roast turkey with gravy, pan-fried trout, a selection of fine cheeses, live mice, and ice cream for dessert. 

The members devoured the turkey, slurped the gravy, decimated the trout, and demolished the cheese. Mr. Fatcat had volunteered to bring the mice, as he lived on a farm with a prolific mouse population. He had called President Fangclaw the previous night to report he had 20 mice caged so that each member could enjoy two mice.

Mr. Fatcat left the table to collect the cage. The members drooled in anticipation. 

And then the impossible happened. Mr. Fatcat returned with an empty cage! The mice had escaped!

What an uproar! A pandemonium of hissing, growling and meowing was brought to an end by President Fangclaw, who said, “We still have ice cream.”

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The whole region was constantly guarded by warriors.

By TNT

He was the baker’s boy and delivered the bread to the warriors every day. They rewarded him well sometimes with chocolate. The whole region of Alsace Lorraine was one of the first taken by the Germans and the German troops were mainly from German farms. They liked the region because it reminded them of home. The only problem was that it rained almost every day and the boy had to keep his bread fresh and dry or the warriors would not buy the bread. He couldn’t carry it in the basket – he had to put it in a wooden barrel and let his big German Shepherd dog pull the barrel which rolled well and bumped over rocks but never spilled any bread. The Germans laughed, but were impressed by his ingenuity.  

As a result he made more deliveries and sold more bread, buns and bakery goods. He became famous and well-liked by everyone. It was not a surprise when his father opened a second bakery. They were doing so well that there was a contingent of French underground Resistance that used the boy to take messages. 

The Germans were drunk when they called the boy over to buy bread. The boy dropped the barrel and the bread rolled out. When the Germans split open a loaf of bread they found a message from the French Resistance, so they shot the boy in the head and laughed. They threw the rest of his bread to the swine.

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Aside from making it more affordable, producers had to insure that the produce appealed to women as readily as men.

By MD

“It ain’t just a matter of moola,” L.B. said to his fellow producers, “we gotta appeal to the dames.”

“Ya got that right,” Sam Goldwyn replied. “But who in the name of all that’s holy knows what women want?”

That’s where I came in. As a woman, and a produce expert, the three Hollywood moguls right away knew I was the “dame” for the job.

At our first meeting, I looked Sam Warner right in the eye, while Goldwyn and L.B. Mayer stood aside. 

“Aside from making it more affordable, producers have to insure that the produce appeals to women as readily as men.” The three producers nodded. “For that reason, I need you to bring your baskets of mixed fruit to my home so I can see how it will look in my living room.” The three producers agreed.

On the appointed day, the truck pulled up to my porch, laden with baskets of succulent fruit. I directed the placement at various spots in the kitchen and living room and, in the presence of the three producers, studied it with a practiced eye. 

“Nope,” I pronounced. “It’s all wrong. It won’t do at all.” L.B., Goldwyn and Warner’s shoulders slumped. “It’s atrocious,” I said. “To make it right, you guys need to completely redecorate my first floor. New furniture, new appliance, new lighting, new carport, new paint.” The three looked doubtful but I was firm.  “You want this produce to appeal to women as well as men, correct?” I asked. Resignedly, they nodded. Three weeks later, the job was complete, the fruit was in place, and shooting began. And because I got a new first floor out of the deal, I only charged them $40,000 for my services. I know for sure the produce as it now appears, will appeal to the female demographic. Whether the movie is a hit or not, I can’t pretend to know.

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The only possible output of a system lacking any discipline is self-destruction.

By B.G.

She knew now that it was not going to come true after such a long time overshadowing her life. Her conventional, dutiful brothers and sisters had done what was expected and were off with careers and families and separate lives. She as the only free spirit was still at home and just put up with it, wondering, going on with her life and interests in her unorthodox ways so unlike her siblings, and waiting.  She had been waiting to see if what her father had always commented would happen to her. His life and thoughts ruled by science were always so orderly and of course disciplined and his thoughts to which she had been accustomed were ever so logical. He repeatedly quoted “The only possible output of a system lacking any discipline is self-destruction.” Everyone took heed and the family was all quite disciplined, except for her as the only free spirit. It just did not work. She figured she would eventually reach the stage of self destruction. It never did happen. Years passed. She ignored the nasty scientific thoughts of her father and finally felt satisfied that an undisciplined free spirit would live on. It just didn’t apply to her. She went out and jumped for joy.

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As its nature became clearer, the great majority grew apprehensive.

By RMAF

As its nature became clearer, the great majority grew apprehensive. So they packed up their mere necessities, left their homes and journeyed northward to the Mexico/U.S. international border. After all, they’ve heard these “truths” many times – “It’s the land of the free,” “there’s a breachable border system, a kind welfare system, and the streets are paved with gold.”

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I want my home to be a place of comfort and joy.

By CC

I want kids. I want to live near the ocean. I want a Subaru Forrester. I want to be a soccer mom. I want my home to be a place of comfort and joy.

That’s what I asked of Joel when we married. You would think I might have got at least one of those desires fulfilled. But that wasn’t his plan.  

I never knew what his plan was, truth be told. We ended up childless, in a sterile box of a cabin on the side of a cliff on what looked to be the moon. He said it reminded him of his childhood home, and suggested that the wild chinchillas that roamed the rockery surrounding the cabin could be a stand-in for the kids he didn’t want us to have.

It wasn’t difficult to knock him off the cliff one sunny afternoon. He didn’t make a sound all the way down, and only then did I wonder if, perhaps, he was autistic. Later, I did a great deal of research and decided that he probably was. 

When I sold the cabin it didn’t occur to me that some one might wonder where he was. That someone might stumble across his body. Of course it didn’t occur to me that he might have survived the fall, got up and walked away, either. I thought he was autistic, not a space alien. But then I did some more research and discovered that he could have been from outer space after all. There were so many clues. I had to find out.

It took about 6 months to get the money together for an expedition back to the mountain, but I persevered and went on the hunt for his body. I couldn’t find a thing. Bingo.

From that time forward I found myself glancing often at the night sky, wondering if he was watching me or planning revenge.  I married again and we lived near the ocean with our two kids and Subaru, but every now and then I thought about my time with that strange being in our mountain cabin. And one day, after the kids had gone off to college, there came a knock on the door. It was a police officer asking if I’d ever been married to Joel. I denied everything then went to pack my bags for a nice long vacation, which I deserved by now.