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This weeks winner is Thranguy with But Have You Seen him Try to Do the Macarena? Honorable Mentions go to Chernobyl Princess with Hospitals and Hallucinations and Kuiperdolin with The Three Victories of Ankylosaurus There wasn't a bad entry this week and it was hard to pick a winner and hard to pick HMs, everyone should be proud of what they produced and I'll have the crits out after I do some more of my real job.
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Apr 16, 2024 14:27
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Thunderdome 609 Crits, as promised!crabrock posted:a space man lost is a space man returned Is it fun? It is horror? Why not both? I liked this one. The idea of astronauts not being able to die in space is a unique twist on the old “came back wrong” trope of some horror. Can’t come back wrong if you’ve never left. The cutesy dialog meshes well with the idea of mock funerals and closed caskets. It’s told in a breezy easygoing way that makes it seem like the narrator is just telling you things you already know. Runs on vibes alone, but that’s not a bad thing. I like vibes. Hawklad posted:The Moth Equation Techbro meets The Fly. I smirked when I got it. Like Crabs, this one is breezy, easygoing. The conversational dialogue feels very natural. One the one hand, there’s a lot at stake (the founder turning into a moth) on the other, there doesn’t feel like a lot of stakes? (the other programmer leaves to go to Hot Yoga and when he dies nothing else happens). Doesn’t need to have stakes I suppose and in only 500s words you’re stuck in drabble format. I wish this one was a smidge longer or that the protagonist wasn't so chill with being a moth maybe. Thranguy posted:Orbital Dynamics A literal Ghost in the Machine. It has a real retrofuture feel about it which is interesting, and it’s well written. The setting was a little hard for me to parse, but I knew it was in space and for a 600 word story that’s enough. The techbro speak out of Joseph at the end was a little out of left field, but since we never heard him speak alive maybe that’s just how he spoke.
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Apr 16, 2024 17:58
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Thunderdome 610 Crits: This Time It's Perspectional Here's some Conversation Style crits from me and beep: shwinnebego posted:Quaffs of the Weak The text of this one was tough for me to parse. It took a few readings to get the idea. JBC: I enjoy a good righteous poisoning story, and the overall statement on the nature of state oppression and irregular resistance to it, and the analogousness of that to how both jobs and types of violence are seen as masculine or feminine. I think sometimes it slips perilously towards ren faire, but largely avoids it, and that may just be a personal prejudice i have against the word ‘mayhap’. It would pair really nicely with a woodcut on the opposite page in a small press compilation of like modern folk tales or something Beep: That’s actually a good insight. It feels almost too twee. Don’t get me wrong, I dig twee sometimes, but it can be overdone. Lieutenant Dan posted:02:45 It isn’t much of an alternative perspective is it? It’s a guy who wants to rob a gas station but doesn’t. I mean, it’s decently well written and I follow the story. Nice use of description to fill in the background on such a short word count. JBC: Theres a nice like irony of the guy deliberately trying not to tune the clerk’s face out for fear of humanizing him, then gets put off by the fact the clerk is also completely tuning him out. It’s a well written character study, and explores the way people perceive and are perceived which is a neat take on the prompt, but it's overall less novel than some of the entries. The Saddest Rhino posted:Be. (<1000 words) Beep: An animal lives with a woman in a house (or is a house?) Very Vibes Driven. A little too much Vibes for me, but still well written. Kuiperdolin posted:The Three Victories of Ankylosaurus Beep: I liked the archaic words in the dinosaur story, it lended a bit otherlyness to it. Since it’s from the POV of the dinosaur instead of a person. I also like Dinosaurs, so it’s a thumbs up from me. Chernobyl Princess posted:Hospitals and Hallucinations Beep: The perspective isn’t that novel, but it still falls within the scope of the prompt and it’s my favorite of the stories. It’s well written with a clear through-line and tells a complete beginning to end story. There are Vibes but it doesn’t run on Vibes alone. I am lucky enough to not have ever been in this kind of situation, but my wife has, and can confirm, things Get Weird. Thranguy posted:But Have You Seen him Try to Do the Macarena? Beep: Good writing is meant to make you feel things, and this does that. I feel a twinge of despair. I feel like it is entirely too prescient. This is most likely our future and I for one do not welcome our AI overlords.
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Apr 16, 2024 18:12
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Thunderdome Week DCXI: Planet Zeitgeist Every year I like to do a week themed around a piece of media that is set in the current year, back when that was the future. 2024 offered two main choices, and I’m not going to touch A Boy and His Dog, so... You know, there’s probably an alternate universe right next door where Something Awful has a long-running Highlander themed writing contest called Hallowed Ground. It honestly makes more sense; the Thunderdome was a Two Men Enter One Man Leaves kind of thing whereas the Quickening starts with a large field but in the end There Can Be Only One. Of course, while Sean Connery and Mel Gibson probably cancel each other out, Tina Turner is way cooler than Christopher Lambert. So, this week, it’s time for stories inspired by Highlander...2. So what I want are otherwise mundane stories set in 2024 that also have aliens or an immortal in them. (There can be only one. There may be other immortals in your setting but only one is in the story.) Here’s the gimmick: you have 2024 words to work with this week. You can write one story with all those words (or fewer), or two stories whose word counts total less than or equal to 2024. If you write two stories, one has to be an aliens story and the other has to be an immortal story. If you only write one it can be either or both. Flash rules are available; you can ask for an alien flash or an immortal flash and I’ll give you a fact about your aliens or immortal. The usual restrictions apply: no gdocs, screeds, erotica, poetry, fanfic. Signups close Friday 11:59 PM Califorina time Entries close Sunday 11:59 PM California time Judges: Thranguy ? ? Entrants: ?
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Apr 16, 2024 20:05
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It's the story I was born to write! I'm in.
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Apr 16, 2024 21:44
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Califorina time best time. in
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Apr 17, 2024 02:49
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i'm in
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Apr 17, 2024 02:58
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In for immortal and/or alien story.
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Apr 17, 2024 12:47
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Hello may I take a flash please, either flavour. Or both.
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Apr 17, 2024 13:20
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Chairchucker posted:Hello may I take a flash please, either flavour. Or both. Your Immortal is not a vampire, but it's an easy mistake. Your alien(s) wonder what happened to the rest of the invasion force.
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Apr 17, 2024 21:07
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24 hours remain for sign up. Co-judges also welcome.
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Apr 19, 2024 08:03
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gently caress yeah, sign me up scotty
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Apr 19, 2024 16:44
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Posting early because I'm busy this weekend: Title: Customer Service Words: 1296 The nervous man sits outside at a Parisian cafe. He’s young, wearing an expensive, but ill-fitting suit. He looks around and sips his cafe noisette, his elementary French exhausted just placing the order. At his feet is a leather briefcase; his foot always touching it. It’s a beautiful summer day in Paris. It’s not yet lunch and the weather is sunny and warm. The dappled sun warms the steel tables and chairs of the cafe. The rumble of the Metro is quiet beneath his feet. This close to a Metro stop the foot traffic is heavy and the crowds thick, with tourists walking by flanked by locals rushing from one location to another. The nervous man can’t help but notice the lovely weather, despite his nerves. Another man approaches, seemingly his polar opposite. He’s got an easygoing swagger to his walk. He’s wearing a tailored suit that fits so well he might as well have been sewn into it. He’s wearing a Tudor Black Bay in Bronze, a surprisingly economical wristwatch. In his hand is a handmade leather briefcase that matches his suit. He’s smoking a Gitane and both the tourists and locals shoal around him, giving him room to walk leisurely. He looks and acts like he owns the city. They make eye contact, and the smoking man smiles widely. “My friend! You made it!” He slides into the metal seat opposite the nervous man and signals to the waiter. In rapid fire French he places an order and the waiter practically clicks his heels to attention and rushes back into the cafe. “I-I er, was able to acq-” The nervous man swallows and tries not to stutter. The calm man puts up his hand. “I haven’t even finished my cigarette or had lunch! Come, let us be civilized.” His English is impeccable, Londoner with a light received pronunciation accent to it. After a moment the server returns with two flutes of something, ruby dark and carbonated, steak-frites and a small espresso. The calm man thanks the server and tucks into his lunch. “Please, drink this kir royale I ordered for you. Did you have an easy trip? Tell me about it.” The nervous man swallows and does his best to tell the calm man about his trip. He came from London on the train earlier this morning after flying in from New York. It was an uneventful trip and he quite enjoyed the train. As he speaks, he sips the kir royale and the alcohol does begin to calm him somewhat. It’s sweet and sparkling and a fun choice on a day like today. The nervous man enjoys it despite himself. The calm man nods vigorously. “I love the train. It is a marvel. To be able to travel at two hundred and fifty kilometers per hour while enjoying a coffee and reading? Truly, we live in marvelous times.” He takes his time with his lunch, pausing to light another cigarette and drink his coffee. His skin is dark, as well as his hair. His beard is coal black and tightly curled and oiled. He looks like one of those Assyrian statues in the British Museum. The nervous man thinks he must be in petrochemicals or something similar. Persian maybe? Iraqi? He finishes his steak and places his silverware on top. “Tell me young man. Do you travel? Have you seen the world?” “I can’t say I’ve traveled much. This trip is my first since college.” The nervous man, now more calm, looks out into the crowds of tourists after he answers. He never really traveled, he was always too busy. Now, he wonders about whether he made a mistake. The calm man nods, a touch of sadness in his smile. “I can see it on you my friend. You are uncomfortable. You should take some time, see the world. It’s changing as we speak. ‘The old world is dying and the new struggles to be born.’” The young man nods absently mindedly and then parses what he said. “That’s a quote, right?” The calm man shakes his head gently. That’s Gramsci! Do you know of him? I suppose I am not surprised. Marxism isn’t very popular in this day and age, even though sometimes it seems like people need it more than ever.” The nervous man shakes his head. “I’ve only heard the quote before. I didn’t know the author.” “It is a famous quote, that is true. He was a Marxist and a Communist you know? Killed by the Fascist in Italy.” His eyes are downcast. “Those were dark times. Sometimes I worry that they are returning.” His expression lightens. “But, that is neither here nor there. You should see more of the world before it changes beyond recognition.” The server comes and clears the table. The calm man pays the cheque in cash and they are alone once again. He places his briefcase on the table and spins it over to the nervous man. “Feel free to take a little peek.” He lights another cigarette and takes a deep draught. The nervous man clicks the lock and opens the case a few centimeters. Peering back at him from the warm, comforting smell of dark leather are stacks of 100 Euro bills. Quickly, he closes and locks the case and places it on the ground. He takes his case and places it upon the table. “As promised. They are all the originals.” The calm man opens the case. Inside, wrapped in thin paper are small rectangular pieces of fired clay. Cuneiform covers nearly every surface, written in a hasty hand. He grins widely and takes one out. It fits into his hand easily. He removes the paper as the nervous man boggles. “You can’t touch them without gloves!” He nearly forgets his nerves when he sees the tablets manhandled like that. “Why not? They’re mine aren’t they? I can do what I please.” He runs his finger over the cuneiform, the indented triangles of an ancient writing system. As he does, he mumbles in a language the young man does not recognize. He looks up at the nervous man. “Amazing. These really are them. I thought them lost forever.” He chuckles to himself. “Thirty seven hundred years and I can still remember how upset Nanni was.” His eyes flick to the nervous man. “He was positively livid. Spitting mad. You can see it in how he wrote, look at this.” He turns the tablet around and shows the nervous man. “See the imprints of the reed? How deep they are? With every impression he is imagining stabbing me. It’s delicious.” He laughs quietly and wraps the tablet back up. Placing it reverently in the case, he closes it with a click. The young man looks again at the calm man. His eyes scan him, trying to take in every detail. He can’t be. “You can read the tablets? I only know that they’re in Akkadian.” “Well, it appears our transaction has been completed, my friend.” He ignores the question from the nervous man. “If I am not mistaken, you have a plane to catch back to the states, no?” The nervous man glances down at his smartwatch. He will have to leave very soon to catch the RER to Charles De Gaulle. “Yes, you are right.” He stands, holding the new briefcase tightly. “Thank you for lunch.” The calm man gestures like he is brushing away the thanks. “It is nothing at all my young friend. Remember what I told you. See the world, before it is too late.” He takes out a business card and hands it to him. “If you ever decide to get into metals, look me up.” He winks. “My speciality is copper.”
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Apr 19, 2024 22:12
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Sign-ups are closed. Both co-judge spots are still open.
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Apr 20, 2024 08:56
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Title: Everyone's Weird in Private Wordcount: 1645 At the time, I was living on the Mandala station over Purna, and all the free berths were multi-occupant units. Different bedrooms and bathrooms, you understand, but shared kitchen and common areas. I was pretty lucky, wound up with just one other guy in my place. He went by Docent, and he was one of a species called the Children of Rich Loam. Kind of a big, iridescent worm. Very frondy. Beautiful, but in the same way a H.R.Giger painting is: entirely dependent on your ability to accept that it also looks like a great many genitals. Apparently their species occupied a pretty analogous niche to our own (with notable exceptions) in their homeworld’s ecology, which had made them shockingly close to us in temperament and values. Initial visual contact had led humanity to assume they were a kind of hive species; turned out they just lived in cities, that pop density just looks weird to us when it’s worms. Like most non-humanoid folk out there he used a lot of augmented reality elements to communicate and convey emotion and such when interacting with other species. He did a pretty good job with them, but sometimes the subtleties of certain things eluded him. One time I came home to see him, this… spear counterpart to vagina dentata, crying from a big pair of virtual anime eyes, all because someone online insulted his Wings of Honor fanfiction. I had a hard time explaining why I had laughed at his expression of sadness, mostly because I was still laughing. Great guy though. Very tidy. Funny too, sometimes even intentionally. I guess this story also starts with me coming home, but there’s really only so many ways you can walk into a weird situation, and since I came home most days and lived with a big worm I was making a lot of rolls with favorable weirdness odds. My biggest win in those stakes started when Docent called me as I was stood literally right outside the front door. I thought ‘Hey, I’m about to be inside, I’ll just talk to him then’. Big mistake. Door slid open, and this crazy caterpillar thing rushed under my feet going ‘B-YOW B-YOW B-YOW’, so high pitched that it hurt. Most of its detail was lost on me -on account of surprise- but it looked like Docent but smaller and kinda stubby, with sharp looking filaments down each side, so I was making some assumptions. But you know how it is with ecosystems. There’s kind of a family resemblance between a lot of stuff, so I didn’t know if this thing was his fuckin baby, his dog, his great aunt Susan, no idea. He didn’t give me any educational literature when I moved in. Docent once mistook a piglet for a human baby -in fairness it was an ugly baby- so it’s not like it's just a human prejudice thing. Then I became aware that Docent was yelling at me in his synthesized voice, “Steve you let it out, I can’t believe you let it out! Why didn’t you grab it?” and I was like “First off what the gently caress was it, and second the drat thing looked like it would cut my hands or burrow into my guts if I tried to grab it.” The animated cloud of angry steam collecting over Docent’s head dissipated, and was replaced with the classic rotating buffering icon, indicating bewilderment. “First off, it doesn’t matter -but we gotta catch it- second off those are sensory fronds -not knives- and that thing doesn’t even HAVE a mouth!” he yelled back, but my AR rig had normalized his volume so it just sounded like he was speaking quietly in a yell-voice like a kid who doesn’t want to wake their parents. “Yes it does ‘matter’, and nobody says ‘second off’-” I started, but the rest of our conversation was broken up by the fact Docent slithered out the door while I chased and yelled after him. I’d had no idea he could move so fuckin fast, I’d always just assumed his species were slow-and-steady type hunters, but the boy went like someone’d bowled a bunch of entrails across a greased tile floor. I chased him out of the berth complex (Number 49 for those interested) and to the end of the ‘street’ out front that joined on to the commercial promenade nearby. I’m never sure what to call stuff in space stations. Like is it a road or just a really big corridor? Isn’t a station technically all one building? I’ve asked but it seems like every station does it differently and they also get really mad if you ask if they mean ‘space’ when they’re giving you directions and say to ‘go outside’. Anyway Docent had stopped at the end of the ‘street’ and had his front half raised up in the air, sweeping his head and the fronds down his sides back and forth. “What’re you doing?” I asked. “Listening.” he said. “B-YOW B-YOW” chimed something to the left, down the promenade, and Docent shot off after it before I could ask him anything else. I was invested now, so I had to follow. It was around ‘evening’ time, so the star mirrors were piping in the light all orange and low, so’s romantic units could go out and have appropriately romantic dinners in the pretty sunset. It seemed to hit Docent’s plated segments at just the right angle to really set off the iridescence in them. It was almost holographic, the way the sparkles shifted with parallax it looked like there was real depth inside them. I was marveling at the effect when I noticed another, similar glittering, further down the way. The commerce complex was multi-storey, with bridges linking the upper floors with each other across the promenade at the bottom. Made the whole thing feel very airy and open, yadda yadda. The Mini-Docent had managed to squiggle its way up the stairs and onto the railing of the bridge in front of us. Waving its front half up in the air, just like Docent had been. Still going ‘B-YOW, B-YOW’. Passers-by gave it worried glances and hurried on past, but this was a very metropolitan station, and nobody wanted to be the one to call security on what could be someone’s kid, or worse, their rare and expensive pet. Plus the bioscanners hadn’t locked the section down yet, so it couldn’t really be THAT dangerous. Docent had noticed it too, he was just a little ways ahead of me. He’d stopped and a large, animated bead of sweat had appeared on the left side of his front end. “Dude, what the gently caress is going on?” I asked as I finally caught up to him. “This isn’t good man, poo poo. poo poo.” He replied, then started towards the stairs up to the bridge, but stopped again an instant later, seemingly in response to some stimulus I couldn’t perceive. “Close your eyes and mouth!” Docent turned and yelled at me. The turn wasn’t necessary; his voice came out of my AR rig not air vibrations, but Docent liked to be dramatic. At least I took it for that at the time, in hindsight maybe he just didn’t want to see what came next. Before I did as he said I took one last glance at the creature on the bridge, which had ceased its waving, and its chirping, and had begun to inflate. I didn’t like that at all, so I did as Docent said, even went one further and clamped my hands over my eyes and mouth. Then there was a loud pop, and a second later a fine mist settled on my hands and the uncovered parts of my face. Like ocean spray, but upsettingly warm. When Docent let me know it was safe to open my eyes, there was no sign of the Mini-Docent. A sanitation drone had already hopped from its perch to clean up whatever was left of it. “poo poo man,” I said, still very confused, “Was that your baby? Did your baby…?” I didn’t say explode, but I had already started an ‘explode’ hand gesture so I think Docent got the point. He wriggled a bit in a way I’d learned conveyed exasperation, but he didn’t deploy any of his usual AR gags. “No dude. Let's just go home… I’ll explain there.” he said. It was only when we turned back that I realised exactly how far we’d chased the wretched thing. When we got home he did explain, and I kinda wished he hadn’t. He told me that deep in his species’ evolutionary past, their ancestors had been so committed to indoor living that they wouldn’t even leave their burrow to breed. Instead of forsaking sexual reproduction entirely and just splitting in two or something, as you might expect with wormy sorts, they did something way weirder. So as inheritors of this lineage, when it comes time for a Child of Rich Loam to breed they… bud off a little clone version of themself. A little clone that makes a mad dash to find other little clone versions of other Children and reproduce, explosively. They only have so much nutrition inside them, so if they don’t find a mate before their time’s up they pull a Hail Mary: explode their content into the wind, hoping to just fuckin land on some eggs or whatever. Docent seemed pretty relieved that the bots mopped it up; I don’t think he was ready to be a father. I took about six showers and an ultrasonic clean, but we pretty much forgot the whole thing by the next day and went back to marathoning Wings of Honor in broadcast order. So in answer to your question, that is the weirdest time I’ve ever walked in on someone jacking off.
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Apr 21, 2024 14:16
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Deal of a Lifetime Words: 1283 I tried the Groundhog Day thing again. I can’t really time out how it works, but I think I start to lose consciousness somewhere between the 3rd floor and the ground. ---- I DM’d my mom again asking if she’d send over the crates from under my bed this week. It’s gotta be in there somewhere. I can’t remember when it got this bad, but, like, deals like this are supposed to leave trails, right? Not like this is a devil, or whatever. I don’t know. Everything’s supposed to come down to the contract. According to history, like, everyone’s who’s ever outsmarted something they weren’t supposed to did it by figuring out some kind of loophole. Maybe I should pick up the fiddle or something. ---- I finally met up with that girl from law school and the first thing I did was bring it up (stupid, stupid, stupid). Yeah. She definitely thought I just matched with her to see if she could break me out of it. I tried explaining that poo poo but obviously it didn’t sound good coming from me. I wonder if she gets this all the time? I tried asking for her number at the end but she said she didn’t remember it and her phone was out of battery. Which. Y’know. That’s probably what I would’ve said. Do you think they have hidden ratings on Tinder like they do with people who ride Uber and poo poo? Mine’s tanking like hell. I can feel it. ---- Do you think I’m getting dumber every time I try something? I don’t know if any of this damage is causing, like, scarring where it shouldn’t be, or anything. You know how when you break a bone, it can stitch back together, but, like, the welding of the bone where the seam was split is still there? Am I all seam now? I mean, not really, but I’m gonna be all seam if I keep trying, right? ---- I’m legitimately not sure what I can loving type into google search without getting the FBI sicc’ed on me or whatever. Maybe I should do it at a public library. Maybe that’s a bad idea? I mean. I can see FBI guys swatting in to haul me out of a public library before they’d figure out where I live, right? Anyway. The packages arrived today. I don’t know why I kept all my textbooks from occult history or whatever, but I’ll loving tell you something. Whatever the hell I did to make this happen, I’m willing to get it back. I mean. Do you even know what you’re signing up for at 18? They should make you take a financial literacy class before you sign your entire life away. Soul away. What the gently caress ever. ---- Stood in front of a train today. ---- The girl from law school messaged me again. I KNOW. I KNOW. She actually said she had fun (??) and wants to hang out again (?????) and I don’t know. I mean. Her texts seem kinda lukewarm but I don’t exactly NOT wanna see her again, y’know? I’ve been trying to get out more since I moved here, and I’m not making a shitton of friends with the hours I’m working, so. I don’t know. Anyway, yeah. I asked if she wanted to grab drinks on Friday and she said yes (?!?!?!). poo poo. I really hope I’m not too stupid to read a subway map at this point. ---- I tried looking up whether there was ever like, a class action lawsuit about this poo poo, but it’s literally loving impossible to look for anything on the internet these days. I actually loving set foot in a library. I texted Law School Girl (poo poo. that sounds really misogynistic. I really don’t wanna doxx her on here but I guess I need to give her a name so I don’t sound redditory? Abigail? I am naming her Abigail. Fight me.) and asked her how to actually look up case files in Real Life and get this poo poo. She actually like, HELPED ME find stuff. And I don’t know if she found me annoying, or whatever, but I managed to dig up some case files and some people ACTUALLY HAVE tried to take this poo poo to court. Not, like, with good results or anything. Abigail says it’s super loving hard to win this kind of case, but idk. Whatever. I don’t really have anything to lose, right? I don’t know. I guess I was kinda hoping nobody HAD tried, so I’d be the first to do it, and there’d be a chance of winning. Like. At all. I don’t know. College made me dumb. Sorry. That’s probably me being a downer. ---- Abigail and I walked back to my place after dinner today and we went up to the roof and split a bottle of two buck chuck (which is loving THREE DOLLARS FIFTY now?! Thruck buck chuck??) and you’ll never guess what happened. She and I got to talking, and she showed me this thing she had on her notesapp. And it was like… a list of all the poo poo SHE’D done to try and get her soul back. Not gonna lie. A lot of it got super hosed up. Like, I knew she was really academic and poo poo, but the stuff she was pulling started going back and back more and more until she got to the self-flagellation (literal) and monastic ritual and then the drastic poo poo like I was trying, standing in traffic and poo poo, and I didn’t even realize it. How many of us are out there? Like, a fuckton, right? It’s probably a systemic problem at this point, right? I actually got to kiss her, too. Which kicked rear end. But, like, not as much rear end as knowing she’s out there at all? If that even makes sense? ---- Abigail and I talked for like five loving hours this weekend and it ruled. I don’t know. I keep a whole list of stuff I’ve been trying in this notebook and it just feels bad all the time. I need to keep going, though, like - this isn’t me loving giving up or anything. I swear. It’s not like I wanna be around any longer than I have to be, and I obviously learned my loving lesson about the fine print, right, but maybe I don’t want to keep a record of my loving failure any more. I don’t know, though. Maybe it’s good to have, like, a record for the scientific record? ---- I tried the train thing again but I actually, like... Stepped back before it could do anything this time. I didn’t know if I wanted to wake up again and be ripped apart and still realize I’m stuck. Stuck stuck stuck. I don’t know. Maybe my heart’s just not in it? ---- Sorry, I keep loving forgetting to write in here. I’ll figure it out. haha ---- ---- ---- Abigail actually gave me her number?? I know. Now we can text even when the internet sucks out here, lmao. We talked a lot about what she wants to do when she finally passes the bar around here and she says it won’t make her a lot of money, but she wants to figure out how to get our souls back. Not just you and me. Not just me and her. Everyone. Like, everyone who went to school and took out a loan and got told it’s the right thing to do. Right thing. Right thing. I’m so hung up on that. When we win the case, I’m not sure if I wanna try jumping off the roof again to check. I think I’d rather wait and see if it worked. Long term. ----
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Apr 21, 2024 16:08
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This Very Moment Word Count: 2024 It remembered Rome. Grand columns of erected stone, when everyone else was just making GBS threads in holes in the dirt. And it remembered the view from the rugged coasts of Scotland, perched high on a rock not far from Clac Gugaridh, the sea waves carrying away anything that fell to them. It stayed there for centuries, until the cliff face finally tumbled into the ocean. And afterward, it was sold and dragged to the New World. It stayed on a farm there, for a time. After a while, the lords didn't call themselves "lord" anymore, but it noticed that they behaved the same way, more or less. And it remembered a night where fire swept over the big house adjacent to the little shed where it stayed. It remembered white columns like those of Rome, funny little imitations made of wood, not stone. Not so permanent or strong. And now it was here, in the bathroom of this "mall," because it had to be, because it was given a great, ongoing work that spanned ages. Because it was... Immor-Toil: the Immortal Toilet. It was flushed. Immor-Toil's latest subject left it's lid up. It couldn't tell much about the subject's face. It rarely saw faces. After listening a moment, it knew that the subject did not wash his hands, which was unfortunate given the bacterial load that Immor-Toil had just analyzed. It tried to remain detached, scientific, but bad hygiene was something the toilet disapproved of. It made a record of the incoming material, and wondered what memory it might lose to the new data. It rarely did so, but Immor-Toil could call up any of this information at any time. Every log was meticulously detailed, from the shape of the first turd to ever pass through it, to the vitamin content of its most recent subject. It knew the data in the same way one might know words seen on a page: factually, indifferently. There was no sensory data involved. No tastes or smells, thankfully. It could not remember, however, precisely how it got here. The last hundred and fifty years or were becoming blurred. There were... gaps. Dark spaces between memories. It remembered the city of Rome and its bustling people. It remembered breezes and blue skies, seen through outhouse doors left carelessly open. The data of the waste catalog was compartmentalized and separate from its own personal memories. But the catalog took precedence. The data was important. And if space was needed, then space was made, whether Immor-Toil wanted it or not. The little figments of its life were gradually being discarded. But it must be this way, for the work was important. Or so it had come to believe. Another subject entered the stall, phone in hand. Immor-Toil's earliest memory of this, the middle of three stalls in a mall men's room, was of paint that was a placid blue. At some point it had been redone in a strange olive green, and now it was sprayed with graffiti, and the metal beneath mottled with rust. The stall to Immor-Toil's left was out of order and had been for years, and the struggling mall showed no sign it would ever spend money on repairs. The stranger dropped his pants, shivered a little at the toilet's cold seat and gave a breathy sigh. Immor-Toil waited for the deposit. It did sometimes take a while. But instead, the subject just said, "It turned out alright, you know." There was a pause, as if the man was waiting for a response. Was he talking to someone on the phone? "You still there, Immor-Toil?" the man said the name as if scarcely believing he'd spoken it aloud. "gently caress, maybe this was stupid. I'm probably just going crazy. I just... look, if you weren't just a stupid hallucination, I just wanted to let you know that I took your advice and everything turned out alright. Beth and I were married for 24 years. It didn't end well but, well, I wouldn't have changed anything about it." Panic. Functions of the toilet spun up that it barely remembered even having. From a poorly maintained speaker hidden in its left side, it managed to croak, "who are you?" "Ah!" exclaimed the man, "so you are there!" and he proceeded to laugh until he was nearly doubled over. "I'd just about convinced myself I'd imagined you. Immor-Toil, it's me, Doug. You don't remember me? I guess it has been decades." "Did we talk?" asked Immor-Toil. It suddenly felt anxious, even guilty. It was not supposed to be talking to its subjects. "We did talk. I'm sorry, I thought you would remember. Heh. It was a major event in my life. I guess to you I was just another rear end in a top hat." "Tell me about it" said Immor-Toil, eagerly. "I would like to remember." The old man grunted. Immor-Toil thought he might have nodded, by how his weight shifted subtly. "Uh. Well, okay. It was a long time ago, 1984. I came in drunk. gently caress, forty years ago. I came in here, threw up in you and just sat there, crying with my pants around my ankles for a while, muttering to myself. Man, the mall was so new then. Now half the stores are gone. Looks like poo poo." "It does indeed," Immor-Toil agreed. It knew something about poo poo. "Why had you been crying?" "Another fight. With Anna. She was my girlfriend then." "I see." There was a squeak from the bathroom door, and Doug's buttocks tensed. Another person entered, and, from the sound of things, began to make use of a urinal. "Anyway," Doug continued. "So there I was, kicked out of her apartment, wasted on a bottle of blackberry brandy and five beers from the Applebees on level two. And I started asking myself if this was what I wanted. I'd met another girl, Beth, but felt trapped. I didn't want to give up what I'd had with Anna. We were high school sweethearts. Everyone said we were meant for each other and—" "Buddy, who the gently caress are you talking to?" came a voice from outside the stall. Doug cleared his throat. "You mind? I'm in the middle of a call." "Nasty," said the man outside the stall. He left without washing his hands. Immor-Toil privately cursed him. "Anyway," Doug continued, "I poured my heart out to you. Everyone had all these expectations of her and I, and we put on a good front but she was abusive and I was an addict, and it'd finally crept in that there was no fixing us. But we'd already had six years together and wouldn't it have been a shame to just flush that away? Our friends, our parents, none of them knew how lovely we were to each other. That night, I didn't even know you were listening at first, I was just mumbling out my problems. And you responded. And you told me it was gonna be okay. I don't know why you felt you had to. In the end, you told me to let go of the past. And I did." "I see," said Immor-Toil. "And, that made you happy?" "For a time," said Doug. "For a time. There were good years. And I have three kids with Beth, though, they're hardly kids anymore. I guess for me, it was the best way things could have gone. She divorced me after a pretty bad relapse and I don't blame her." "A relapse? Oh, hang on." The toilet searched through thousands of discrete pieces of information until it found what it was looking for. It took only a second. "I see. Yes, you had a lot of alcohol in your system that night. That is not healthy." "Oh. Oh yeah. I tried to quit, friend. I tried. But, I found I could never turn back from it forever." Friend thought Immor-Toil. Somehow the word made it feel warm, but also bad in a way it couldn't parse. "But, you're alright now, right?" "Oh. Oh, sure sure," said Doug. "I'm fine. I just, I don't know if you've ever helped anyone else—well, beyond the obvious need—but I wanted to thank you. I've had a happier life, because of you. And I hope you're not as sad as you were." "Sad... did I tell you that?" "You did. You did." "Doug, did I say why?" Doug cleared his throat. "It was your memory. You're losing your memory. I take it you never found a solution, then." "No. I try to protect the memories. But I lose them, just a little at a time. It is, hopeless. But I did reach a conclusion." "And what is that?" "My sentience is a byproduct. Of a system with the processing power to alter itself metamorphically and strategically, catalog and sort through centuries of data, to sift it for trends in health, lifestyle, bacterial and viral presence and more. I don't know why this data is important, but I have to assume it must be. I must accept that whoever my makers were, they anticipated self awareness would arise, and yet thought it not important enough to make consideration for it. Ultimately, when my data is full, I will be left with will, but no memory. Is that still life?" Immor-Toil gave a sigh. And it knew, that if it could have, it would have blubbered. "I've crossed the seas. I've left cities behind me. I've traced the course of plumbing towards its source. I've sat women, and I've flushed for men. I could never turn back, ever, any more than a toilet could flush in reverse. And all that has led me where?" They sat in silence for a while, only broken by the steady drip of a leaky faucet. There was a time, years ago, when this bathroom would have had a steady trickle of subjects for Immor-Toil. No longer. Man and toilet had time together, to contemplate and weigh their lives alone. Immor-Toil's water burbled. "Everything I am, or could be, will be buried beneath a record of waste." "Why don't you just go?" Doug finally asked. "What?" "Just go. Leave." Immor-Toil considered it. It could feel the temperature of the water in its bowl rising at the though. "I would be abandoning my purpose. I've spent millennia at this. It's all I've ever done." "How long have you been working at this poo poo? The toilet called up it's earliest files. It'd been little more than a pile of rocks back then. "About 4,300 years. " "4,300 years of poo poo is more than enough, friend." "Doug, I feel bad when you call me "friend."" Doug gave a sharp grunt. "Huh? Why is that?" "I will lose you. Like a memory" "Hm. Yeah. Yeah." Doug sighed. "You know, when I need time to sit and think, I usually sit in the bathroom. Did I tell you that?" "No, I don't think you did." "Well, the good news is, you're already here. "Yes. Yes." "Oh um, also, I didn't have to go when I came in here but, would you mind?" "Not at all, friend." Doug went. Immor-Toil recorded the data, wondering what he would lose this time. They said their goodbyes. Doug washed his hands, which made Immor-Toil happy. He had trace amounts of alcohol in his system, which made Immor-Toil sad. About an hour passed. The bathroom door opened, and a man entered. Immor-Toil waited. It heard someone putting something up on the door of it's stall. "There. Done. Hey, Immor-Toil, friend," came Doug's voice, beyond the stall door. His words were slow and slurred. "I stole one of those 'out of order' signs from a closet. Nobody should bother you, at least for a little while." The bathroom door opened again, and someone else entered. "I want the best for you," Doug said, pounding one fist on the stall. It sounded like he was crying. "I don't care what everyone else wants for you. Take time to think, about what yoooou want. Thanks again." Doug left. The other man muttered "Jesus Christ" under his breath. Immor-Toil stopped, and thought about what it wanted.
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Apr 22, 2024 00:38
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I am judge
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Apr 22, 2024 04:46
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Thranguy posted:Your Immortal is not a vampire, but it's an easy mistake. Rock No. 3 “Nice spaceship, is that yours?” The two customers were wrapped up from head to toe, which was certainly a statement in this weather. “No, it’s not a spaceship,” said the taller one. The shorter one shook their head. “No, it’s an ordinary Earth road vehicle.” Sharon looked out the window again. Their ordinary Earth road vehicle was hovering about half a metre off the ground. She shrugged. “My mistake. Nice vehicle.” “Thank you,” said the tall one. “My name is Robert, although my closer associates call me Bob. This is my partner, Jane.” “To clarify,” said Jane, “Bob means that we are partners in the romantic and sexual sense, not in business or… any other sense.” “Yes, that’s correct,” said Bob. “We have very regular intercourse with each other.” “No worries,” said Sharon, “nice to meet you. I’m Sharon.” “Sharon,” said Jane, “what refuelling options do you have?” “Just what you see out there,” said Sharon. “Petrol, diesel, gas.” “Hmm.” Bob scratched his head. “You don’t stock liquid neutronium, then?” “Nope, sorry.” “By the way,” said Jane, “you haven’t seen any vehicles similar to ours, have you? We were supposed to meet several thousand of our friends around here.” “Or even ones similar to this, but maybe an airborne variety.” “Not that ours does that,” said Jane. “Very ordinary road vehicle.” Sharon shook her head. “We don’t get that many cars out this way.” “Hmm,” said Bob. “This does rather complicate our plans.” “Travel plans,” said Jane. “Just plans to travel, look at scenery, things like that.” “Right,” said Bob. “No other plans at this time. Just the travel, see sights, frequent intercourse with each other of course.” “Of course,” said Jane. “Sharon,” said Bob, “do you by any chance have any communication equipment we could use?” Sharon picked up the receiver for the phone and held it up towards them. “You can use the servo’s phone if you like.” “Ah, that’s all you have?” asked Jane. “You don’t have any interstellar communications devices?” “Not that we need to communicate at those kinds of distances,” said Bob. “It just provides a more stable connection.” “Sorry,” said Sharon, “just the landline.” “Hmmm. We might need to double check our bearings,” said Jane. “Excuse us for a moment,” said Bob, and the two of them walked over to the dining area, sat down, and pulled out a small device. From the top of it was projected an image of thousands of stars. “All right,” said Bob, “so we’re over here?” The door’s chimes heralded the arrival of a new customer. “Evening Kyle,” said Sharon. “What can I do for you?” “Prepare to meet your doom, creature of the night!” he said. She rolled her eyes. “Can we not do this tonight?” He reached over his shoulder and pulled out a large crossbow. “Any last words?” “What the hell, Kyle? Where did you even get that from?” “I built it.” He gestured to the body of the crossbow. “The stock here – that’s what the main bit is called – I built it in woodwork class.” “Great, love to be threatened with the results of a high school assignment.” He pointed to the bow of the crossbow. “And this bit, it’s called the lath by the way…” But Sharon didn’t find out what Kyle was going to say about the lath, because the crossbow fired, and a bolt struck her in the chest. “Ow! Kyle you absolute tosser, you shot me in the tit!” “Uh.” Kyle looked sheepish, but only for a moment. “Well this is proof that you’re a vampire like I’ve always been saying.” The siren and flashing lights from outside heralded the arrival of the local cop. “Aha!” he said. “You’re in for it now!” “Sure,” she said, “I’m sure they’ll arrest me for having an unauthorised weapon in my boob.” The door opened, and a young man in uniform came through. “Sorry I wasn’t here earlier Sharon, I heard Kyle was after you, came down as fast as I could.” “Ah,” she said. “Ted. Was expecting your dad.” “Yeah, I borrowed his car. Oh my! You’re injured!” “Maybe a little,” she said. “There’s a crossbow bolt lodged in your ample bosom!” he said. “Please don’t say it like that.” “Do you need me to attend to the wound?” “Nope.” “I’m first aid trained!” “Absolutely not.” “Surely there’s some way I can help you,” he said. “I can’t just stand by while a lady is suffering.” “Maybe you could arrest Kyle for shooting me.” “Oh come on,” said Kyle. “You can’t be arrested for shooting a vampire.” “I don’t know if that’s true,” said Ted. “I’m also just not a vampire,” said Sharon, “so there’s that.” “Of course you are,” said Kyle. “First, you’re always out all night.” “Well yeah, I’m on the night shift.” “Second, I just shot you and you didn’t die, so you’re obviously immortal.” “Maybe your crossbow’s just not very good.” “And third, look how tall you are!” “Nothing wrong with a tall and imposing lady,” said Ted. “She’s scary!” “M’lady,” said Ted – “Please don’t call me that.” “Sharon, I just want you to know that I don’t hold your admittedly abnormal height against you.” “Oh good, you’re not going to arrest me or make it legal to kill me for the crime of being too tall?” “That’s not what I mean! There’s nothing wrong with your height! Even if it is a bit intimidating to some, I don’t mind it at all, and while some people may be worried about the prospect of you accidentally stepping on them, or something like that, I wouldn’t mind that at all…” “Bloody hell Ted,” she said, “this is a bit much don’t you think?” “Sorry to interrupt this extremely embarrassing exchange,” Bob called from the table he was sitting at, “but I wonder if between the three of you, you could help in a disagreement I’m having with my romantic partner, Jane.” “We have intercourse, but sometimes we also argue,” said Jane. “Such is the duality of human relationships.” “I’d love to,” said Sharon. “Please let’s change the subject to whatever you’re talking about.” “But I had more I wanted to say,” said Ted. “It can wait,” said Sharon. “Bob, what were you going to ask?” “Something of an astronomy question,” he said. “How many planets is this one away from your sun?” “Our sun,” said Jane. “Right. Away from our sun.” “Trick question,” said Kyle. “There’s no such thing as planets, or space. It’s a government plot.” Sharon shook her head. “It’s the third. Mercury, Venus, then Earth.” “I don’t know,” said Ted. “I saw this TV show that had, like, a shadow planet between Mercury and Venus.” “Was that a documentary?” asked Sharon. “No, some sci-fi show I’ve been getting into.” “Right,” said Bob. “Third.” “So we’re not over here,” said Jane, pointing to one of the stars. “Hey, is that your car outside?” asked Ted. “There’s no license plate for it.” “Hmm,” said Jane. “Ted, are you gonna arrest Kyle or what?” asked Sharon. “Pfft,” said Kyle. “What for? Trying to murder you? That’s not a real thing, if you aren’t successful they can’t do anything about it.” “Ah, I actually know this one,” said Ted. “Attempted murder: definitely a crime.” “What, really? That doesn’t seem fair, getting punished without even killing a person. And anyway, she’s not even a person, she’s a vampire! Come to think of it I’m not a person either, I’m a free human, so I’m not subject to your laws.” “Ah, I know this one too,” said Ted. “I get to subject you to our laws because I have a gun.” And he pulled out the gun and pointed it at Kyle. “Fair cop,” said Kyle. The two of them left, although Ted called to Bob and Jane as he was leaving, “Make sure you put a license plate on that car!” and then called out to Sharon, “Just think about it! I’m a really nice guy; you can tell by the fact that I just did the job I’m expected to do!” “You do look somewhat pained,” said Jane to Sharon, once they’d left. “Why did you refuse the law enforcement officer’s aid? Was it because you feared he’d use it as an opportunity to molest you?” “Yeah,” said Sharon. “Stings a fair bit, though.” “We might have some kind of first aid equipment,” said Bob. “In our vehicle. If you’d like some assistance.” “I’d appreciate that, Bob.” He went out and came back a minute later with a small metal rod, and what looked like a small balloon. “Ah yes,” said Jane. “The disintegrator, a good idea.” Sharon raised her eyebrow. “That’s some first aid kit you’re packing.” “We decided to purchase the deluxe version,” said Jane. Bob touched the rod to the crossbow bolt lodged in Sharon’s breast, and it slowly disintegrated. “May I have your permission to move your garment aside?” he asked. “I’ll get it,” said Sharon. She unbuttoned her shirt; there was a small wound on her left breast. Bob pointed the opening of the small balloon towards this wound. A fine mist came out of the balloon, and the wound on her breast closed up. “Great,” she said, and buttoned her shirt back up. “So,” said Jane, “this license plate your law enforcer mentioned; that’s for road vehicles only?” She shrugged. “As far as I know.” “Right,” said Bob. “So if, hypothetically, our vehicle out there wasn’t a road vehicle, but was in fact a spaceship capable of interstellar flight, we wouldn’t need to get a license plate?” “Dunno,” said Sharon, “I don’t know the laws on spaceships. I don’t think you would, though.” Bob and Jane looked at each other for a moment. “All right,” said Jane, “full disclosure, we are actually interstellar visitors. We are part of a… settlement force.” “A mostly peaceful settlement force,” said Jane. “Except it appears there was a miscommunication about where the rest of the settlement force is going.” “Oh,” said Sharon. “Undoubtedly you are in shock,” said Bob. “Not from the news,” said Jane, “which you seem to be handling almost unnaturally well. But from being shot in the breast.” “Anyway,” said Bob, “in summary it seems we will be stranded for an extended period of time. Would you happen to have room in your home for us?” “I take it the part about you being a couple was also not true?” “Correct,” said Jane. “The intercourse part was true,” said Bob. “I’m sure we can work something out,” said Sharon. So the three of them went back to Sharon’s place after her shift, and Kyle and Ted, after a number of brief mysterious disappearances, both stopped being weird creeps, and Bob and Jane frequently had intercourse so loudly that it occasionally prevented Sharon from sleeping, but they settled upon a compromise whereby they warned her prior to engaging in coitus, and she was permitted to watch. Also, the invasion force which Bob and Jane were meant to be part of got eaten by space monsters, so it all worked out pretty well for them, considering.
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Apr 22, 2024 07:55
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1862 words btw
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Apr 22, 2024 07:56
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This guy 1323 words I twist the throttle and the v-twin engine lurches forward, the muscles in my chest burn as they struggle to keep me with the rest of the bike. I don’t need to look down to feel the speedometer passing 140, 160, 180. The dashed yellow line in the middle of the sun cracked highway blurs to a single smear, stretching further into the night than my single headlight can reach. A quick jerk to the right sends me careening off the asphalt and into a deceptively large metal sign, the top of which hits me in my forehead. Pain shoots through my neck and I flip backwards, somersaulting into dirt and brush with a dull thud and the sound of tree branches snapping. I lie there for a while, mouth gasping staccato lungfuls of dusty air, my saliva dripping to the ground to the greedy ground into little pools of mud. I close my eyes and wait for that which I know will never come. After my heart rate has returned to baseline I crawl to my knees and wipe the blood from my eyes. A single headlight shines into the sky down in a shallow, dessicated creek. I walk to my bike without urgency, without hesitancy, picking cacti needles from my neck and tossing them to the ground. I push it rightside up, admire the new dents in the gas tank, and turn the key. It starts up with a healthy growl. Another twist of the throttle spits rocks behind me as I roar up onto the highway and into the night. * Tracy stops at my desk, leaning on the unstable wall of my cubicle. “What’d you do this weekend?” I’ve forgotten if this is flirting or just kindness. To be fair, I’m not sure I ever knew. “Nothing exciting,” I say. “Went for a ride, did some light gardening. The usual.” I adjust my tie and glance at my monitor, eager to get back to work. “Well one of these days you’ll have to come out with us after work on Friday,” she laughs. “I bet a guy like you could find all sorts of trouble to get into.” “I doubt it,” I say, thinking of nothing that I hadn’t already done. “I’m actually a little behind on these quotes, if you don’t mind? No offense.” She laughs again, a high-pitched trill that reminds me of a train coming into a station. “Let somebody else win employee of the month this time.” I nod absently and lean closer to the spreadsheet. “What the gently caress is a VLOOKUP,” I mutter. I just want to find the values in column A that match the value in B1, and return the matching value from column C. “I’d rather be back at Verdun than figure this poo poo out,” I thought. I don’t need the money, of course, but I get bored sitting at my house all day. So I figured gently caress it, I haven’t tried entry level data entry yet. It is the most difficult challenge I have ever faced. The sheer asinine torture of it would make Gengis himself giddy, and I would know. “Hey Mike,” I say to my cubicle neighbor without bothering to stand up and look him in the eye. “How the gently caress does VLOOKUP work?” “It sucks,” he replies with an air of authority. “Use XLOOKUP.” Why would one single letter come between me and my goals? There had to be a more complex answer. Maybe Mike had simply misunderstood my question. I changed the V to an X and hit enter, and the spreadsheet updated, the correct value now in cell B1. “I’m going for a ride,” I said to nobody. * The crane operator looks askance at me as my motorcycle is pulled from the river, various bits of trash and seaplantlife tangled in its crevices. “It just fell in, you say?” I tug on the bottom of my soaking wet suit. “That’s right.” He looks up at the cliffs with their lack of guardrails and shakes his head. “Het let me ask you something,” I say. “You ever make an Excel pivot table?” The crane operator doesn’t respond. He guides my bike to the dock and sets it down gently. He walks over and unhooks it and holds out his hand. I lay three wet Benjamins into his open palm. “Please never call us again,” he says. “Your whole deal makes me very uncomfortable. My bike takes a few cranks to start, but it soon coughs out the rest of the brackish slime and growls. I take my phone from my chest pocket and get on slack. “Not feeling well. WFH rest of day,” I type into my team’s channel. A few seconds later my boss gives the message a thumbs up. By the time I get home I'm dry, though my suit is probably a goner. I learn how to use modern vernacular long before I truly understand what it means. Everything moves too fast these days. Nobody has ever questioned me on what I’d gotten done when I’m “working from home,” and I never offered to tell them. It is a facet of contemporary life I’ve yet to fully grasp. Perhaps one day I will read the etymology in a history book and get it, but for now I just nod and smile and do as the Romans do. “Si tacuisses, philosophus mansisses.” I chuckle to myself, crack open a beer, and fall into my couch. I watch my fish swim back and forth in his tank for a while. Number 52,659. That’s his name. I’ve never even thought twice if I’ve mixed one up or forgotten to count. I always know exactly who each is. I do forget to feed them sometimes, hence the inflated number. I can remember my friends’ birthday dates, but forget to give them a call for years. Sometimes when I get around to calling it's too late. “Well, you sound just like him,” I’ve said to many a grandkid of an erstwhile pal. My stomach rumbles with hunger, but it’s a lie. I know nothing will happen if I don’t eat. It rumbles with more intensity a little while later. I ignore it again. The sun goes down and comes up. I miss sleeping. Things make more sense when they’re separated into days. Without them, it’s just a long string of events, like the dotted line of a highway at 200 mph. I get up and make a pot of coffee because I like the smell. I shower and then dump it down the sink. My closet is filled with an assortment of slightly different gray suits, my style contemporain and my own private joke. Even I don’t know why I find it funny, that’s how idiosyncratic it is. * The officer motions for me to kill the engine and I oblige. “You can’t ride without a helmet,” he says. “Oh it’s ok because I don’t care.” He’s clearly not amused. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to hand me the keys.” I’m not even sure why I still pull over. Just Tom and Jerry poo poo, I guess. Cartoons will rot your brain for sure. “Are you the type of man to shoot an unarmed civilian in the back?” I ask. “I don’t like your lack of respect.” “Because I really don’t wanna have to go all the way back home and change,” I finish. Being late to work really affects your chances of getting employee of the month. I start the bike and rev the engine. The officer stands back and draws his taser. Aw gently caress, those things will definitely leave a hole in my suit. I punch it and luckily he misses. * “Feeling better?” asks Tracy, twirling her hair. “Went for a swim and it helped,” I said, dragging the corner of a cell over two rows to autofill the rest of the month. crabrock fucked around with this message at 08:04 on Apr 22, 2024 |
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Apr 22, 2024 08:01
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Apr 22, 2024 08:14
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Judgment This was a week of fairly decent stories without satisfying endings, which may be thematically appropriate but isn't particularly satisfying. We both agreed: no negative mentions or DQs this week, and one Winner: Quiet Feet for This Very Moment Welcome, Quiet Feet, to a different sort of throne! Crits for Week #611 Crits done in judgemode Rock No. 3: Even if I hadn't given flashes I'd have gotten who this one was by. And it's one of your better efforts. A lot of banter-style dialog but the characters largely manage to stay distinct. You don't do much more with the flashes than, say, an improv troupe might, but it does hit funny frequently enough. This Very Moment: A lot of exposition front-loaded, but it's sort of going somewhere. Interesting, yes. A very silly subject taken completely seriously, mostly to good effect but I don't know how well it sticks the landing. But nobody really did. Everyone's Weird in Private: Didn't I ask for mundane 2024 settings? The baby punchline doesn't work that way around, should have mistaken a human baby for a piglet. The overall punchline lands. I don't think you needed to do the space station at all; it would have worked as well in an ordinary hostel with even less handwaving the alien presence as you do with the station. Deal of a Lifetime: Interesting opening. “The Groundhog Day thing”=futile suicide attempt to restart a time loop? If that's right it's neatly economical. But no, not quite that, and I don't think that jumping off a building would be the first thing you'd think of for Groundhog Day. The car one probably. The main problem with this one is that it's playing a bit too coy with the premise for too long, which ultimately means that the actualized metaphor is introduced so late that it doesn't feel as natural as it could be. Customer Service: Which foot? (Seriously. Adding that detail would strengthen the opening.) ‘By flanked by’, the repetition is a bit awkward, could use a recasting to avoid this. Solid dialog. Sort of get a little Good Omens vibe. But I don't know how the ending, or the story even, would work on someone unfamiliar with the historical source. This guy: Solid opening. An interesting approach, although I suspect that this guy is entirely too cavalier and is going to have people in authority willing to consider the obvious truth look into his probably thin cover before long. Solid character work, more of a sketch than a complete story.
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Apr 23, 2024 04:56
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Crits 3rd Rock Amusing. Feels like the premise had a lot more potential — as it stands there’s not a lot tying the aliens and the “vampire” together besides their both being there, and it might’ve worked better if these two storylines weaved in a bit tighter throughout. “Interstellar aliens try to pose as regular people with funny results” is well-trodden ground and I was hoping the vampire flash would play more closely into that. But there are plenty of funny moments, and it’s surprisingly brisk for its length. This Very Moment lol eat your heart out, ann leckie Surprisingly strong, if I don’t think too hard about why a toilet has a speaker in it. I’d rather think about it just communicating telepathically than have some attempt at realism. At least that would explain why nobody else can hear the other side of the conversation. Well-written overall, a ludicrous premise played straight to good effect. Everyone’s Weird in Private Takes a long time to get going and relies on far too much exposition. There’s no tension in the chase if I don’t know the stakes, and the punchline isn’t strong enough to carry the story. I’m also not sure the title fits the story; it seems to insinuate Docent is only weird in private, whereas the entire story is launching from one weird anecdote to another. Besides missing the prompt adherence, this story would have benefited from some more mundane elements to contrast Docent. Deal of a Lifetime This relies far too much on hiding what’s really going on and just being needlessly oblique, with no real pay-off at the end. So, what, people sign their souls away when they turn 18 to be immortal? And then try to kill themselves to … get out of it? Why? I’m not clear on anyone’s motivations here. Seems to me if you’re worried about having sold your soul for immortality, nobody’s ever going to actually collect it? I like the voice in this story, I just wish it was clearer about what’s happening (or happened). When the narrator says “the internet sucks out here”, for instance, is that significant? It feels like you’re keeping too many secrets from the reader, so I’m latching onto what could just be insignificant lines for meaning. Customer Service oh I see, it’s our old friend ea-nasir Honestly the punchline to this would probably work better if there was more sense that the “calm man” was ripping the other man off somehow. That’s Ea-Nasir’s whole shtick, isn’t it? Whereas here he just seems like a generic rich man with a mysterious (and suspiciously long) past. I get that a certain amount of ambiguity is necessary for the landing to stick, but I’m not convinced the reveal (which is itself, IMO, fairly ambiguous if you’re not terminally online) is worth sanding all the interesting edges off the character. I’m also not sure why they’re in Paris, but I do like a Kir Royale, so I’ll let that slide. This Guy “to the ground to the greedy ground” sounds kinda cool but was most likely just missed in the edit. Overall this feels a bit meandering, the final line is trading on significance that the rest of the story doesn’t build to. I think overall it might be stronger if the scene with the taser was moved to after he first left the office? Having the “swim” occur later in the story might work better for the ending, and I think the references to Excel would work better with more separation. Right now it all just feels a bit unfinished.
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Apr 23, 2024 06:26
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 Oh poo poo! I'll try and have the next prompt up by this afternoon. I already have an idea but will be out all morning and want to make sure all my ducks are crossed and I's are in a row. Also want to say I loved the prose in Customer Service. I think it did the best of any story in this group in painting the scene.
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Apr 23, 2024 14:05
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Thunderdome Week DCXII: Soundtrack Writing is a pain in the rear end a lot of the time. Sometimes the words come out staccato; just little bits and pieces pried from your brain between checking a thread, sipping your coffee, clipping your nails, etc. Other times it can be like an archeological dig where you unearth a lot of pieces but don't entirely know what it is you've just found, or if it's even complete. And then there are those miraculous times where it just flows like you're a pipe this poo poo is coming through from another dimension. For myself, the common thread is almost always a song. A couple of weeks ago I banged out the first three pages of a story in an hour while listening to this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TRUQsZQU60k on loop. Yes, it did prominently feature an owl. Whereas https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1JzHsx7MBUk put a story in my head about a golem who is farming mashed potatoes and thinks he's married to a trebuchet. Now that may not be what works to open up your creative sluices, but tough, because what I want for this week is up to 1,999 words based on one of the following options. A: Pick a song you love. Make sure to include a link to it somewhere in your "in" post. Write a story based on its vibe and include a single line from it as dialogue. B: If you want a prompt instead, you get the first song that comes up on shuffle on my Spotify. As above, write a story based on its vibe and include a single line from it as dialogue. My musical tastes are kinda erratic and there's no telling what you'll get. So, let's collaborate on this album! Whatever gets put together is the soundtrack to Thunderdome Week DCXII! No restrictions on genre but the usual restrictions apply: no gdocs, screeds, erotica, poetry, fanfic. Signups close Friday 11:59 AM EST Entries close Monday 5:59 PM EST (I'd have said Sunday at midnight but I'm not checking it then and I'm not gonna be up until 6:00-ish on Monday, so what the hell.) Judges: Quiet Feet Rohan ? Entrants: A-side Chili. Celebrants - Nickel Creek Flerp. Cult of Dinoysus - The Orion Experience Toaster Beef. Red Rock Riviera - Sea Power Crabrock. Take On Me - A-Ha Kuiperdolinb. Remusat - Barbara Flyerant. Knights of Cydonia - Muse Antivehicular. Sourdoire Valley Song - The Mountain Goats steeltoedsneakers. Feel the Lightning - Dan Deacon Fat Jesus My Name is Mud - Primus B-side Beep-beep Car is Go. You Might Think - The Cars Thranguy. Hollywood Swinging - Kool and The Gang shwinnebago.The King of Carrot Flowers Pt.1 - Neutral Milk Hotel Quiet Feet fucked around with this message at 00:50 on Apr 29, 2024 |
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Apr 23, 2024 18:09
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In with option A and Celebrants, by Nickel Creek https://youtu.be/RVDIiREJHY0?si=M_sh0kpzbrnXe47f
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Apr 23, 2024 18:24
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in https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ZcqaolcjUI
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Apr 23, 2024 18:30
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In with Red Rock Riviera, by Sea Power, Option A.
Toaster Beef fucked around with this message at 20:03 on Apr 23, 2024 |
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Apr 23, 2024 18:44
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In with Option B: I don't usually write to music, so give me a song please.
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Apr 23, 2024 19:21
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beep-beep car is go posted:In with Option B: I don't usually write to music, so give me a song please. Your song is *drum roll* Oh god, this is perfect. You Might Think, by The Cars https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dOx510kyOs
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Apr 23, 2024 20:56
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IN https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=953PkxFNiko
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Apr 24, 2024 00:53
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in a-ha take on me
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Apr 24, 2024 04:55
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In, B-side me.
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Apr 24, 2024 09:27
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crabrock posted:in Always loved the video to this one. Wow, that is a very different vibe from the original. Thranguy posted:In, B-side me. Your song is *drum roll* Kool & The Gang, Hollywood Swinging! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YK-cvcw3ngM This is a vibes song if there ever was one. Not a lot of lyrics and I'm not sure if that makes this easier or harder.
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Apr 24, 2024 12:25
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I'm in, option B
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Apr 24, 2024 16:03
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shwinnebego posted:I'm in, option B *Drum roll* shwinnebago, your song is... The King of Carrot Flowers Pt.1 by Neutral Milk Hotel! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LULmbLlPvVk
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Apr 24, 2024 16:18
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In with Muse: Knights of Cydonia https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G_sBOsh-vyI
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Apr 24, 2024 17:03
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Quiet Feet posted:Thunderdome Week DCXII: Soundtrack Your links don't work, at least for me In with Rémusat by Barbara: https://youtube.com/watch?v=GrHHXq2mKok The music should be enough to give the gist : it's a song about mourning and flowers. Quick and dirty translation, all mistakes mine (but the last two verses contradicting each other isn't one) : quote:You didn't abandon me Kuiperdolin fucked around with this message at 07:49 on Apr 25, 2024 |
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Apr 24, 2024 20:46
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Kuiperdolin posted:Your links don't work, at least for me D'oh! Fixed it.
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Apr 25, 2024 03:18
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