As much as I fear looking back at my former life, I look forward with alarm. The direction in which I travel is dark and inhumane. My course may lead to the end of the world as I know it. My only consolation is that I’m alone on the planet.
“Saga” is the word of the day at The Daily Post.
The doorbell’s ring had an ominous tone. It was with trepidation that I opened it; the bright sunlight burned my retinas, and it took a moment for the two policemen at my door to come into focus.
“Yes?” My voice shook.
“Are you Mr. James Miller?”
“I am.”
“Are you familiar with the name,” the officer looked down at his notepad and then back up to me, “Greta Miller?”
“She’s my great-aunt on my mother’s side. Is she okay?”
“I’m sorry to inform you, Mr. Miller, your aunt has passed away. We have you listed as her sole survivor.”
I felt my face crumple as I cried, “I killed her!”
The two officers moved quickly to handcuff me. “What did you do with the gun, Mr. Miller?” one of them asked.
“Gun? What gun? I posted a meme on Facebook that guaranteed me a fortune – and now Aunt Greta has gone and left me her all her money!”
“Is… that how you killed her, Sir?”
“I DIDN’T THINK IT WOULD WORK!!!” I’d never felt so distraught in my life.
“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” Hannah read the sticker pasted over the Happy Acres sign at the end of the long, dusty driveway. She knew she’d been here before, but she didn’t remember why.
“Dad said there were hookers here,” said her husband, Jessie.
“Well, they’d better be male strippers, ‘coz if they’re female, you’re not gonna last long.”
“Pfft,” Jessie scoffed. They got back in the car and headed up the lane way to check themselves in.
________________________________________
Tuesday Use It In A Sentence is fun! This week’s word is “abandon.” Try it out! The link to join in is here.
“It looks like a nice place,” Hannah said as she stood with her husband, Jessie, before the gates at the end of a long, dusty driveway.
“The sign is a bit old.”
She stepped in front of him to take a closer look. “The Happiest Place In Town,” she read out loud. “I don’t know if I’d go that far,” she said to Jessie. “But maybe it’ll be appropriate.”
“Do you really think my dad will do well here?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ll ask him.”
They walked together to the car and spoke to the man inside through the open window.
“We think it’s the right place,” Jessie said to his father.
“Do they have hookers?”
“Wait, I’ll check,” said Hannah. She trotted back to the sign and read it silently, then returned to the car.
“The best hookers in town, the sign says.”
“Well what are we waiting for?” asked Jessie’s father. “Let’s go get ’em!”
And that’s how, with Hannah’s help, Jessie got his father into a nursing home.
“Uh, Sir, I think you underestimate me.”
“Do you really think so, Johnson? I mean, look at your record. Just last week you picked up three dead raccoons, twenty squirrels, and four crows. Your contemporaries doubled that!”
“But you forget that they are in the city. You have me out doing the rural routes.”
“Where there should be more roadkill!”
“But…”
“But what, Johnson?”
“But what about the moose?”
“There was a moose?”
“Yeah. Just last week. Didn’t Davis tell you?”
“It’s the first I’ve heard. Did you pick it up all by yourself?”
“Yes, Sir. I did.”
“What did you do with it?”
“It’s been your lunch, Sir, for the last three days.”
This post is part of both The Daily Post and Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click the links to find the prompts!
“You can only survive for twenty-four hours without a drink.”
“Nuh-uh! You’ll die in fif… I mean twelve.”
“Nuh-uh! My dad told me it was a whole day!”
“Wanna bet?”
“Sure!”
“Okay. Don’t have a drink for the rest of the day and see if you wake up tomorrow.”
“…I’m thirsty.”
“Me too. Let’s go to my place. My mom made Kool-Aid.”
Today, Mary’s boss called her into his office for a “meeting.” His “meetings” usually consist of a reprimand and an offer of a date. This “meeting” was no different, except that he also asked Frank from accounting to come in. Turns out Frank wanted a date with Mary.
Mary accepted.
“Happy Children’s Day,” said the mother to her son on Mother’s Day morning.
“What do you mean?” asked the son.
“If I’ve done my job right,” explained the mother, “you will derive more pleasure from spoiling me than I will for being spoiled.”
The son smiled, “You’re right, Mummy! Please enjoy your sardine pancakes. I brought syrup, too!”
A man walks into a bar. He goes up to the bartender and says, “I’m the guy.”
“What guy?” Asks the bartender.
“The guy who walked into the bar.”
“Huh. You got a horse?”
“Nope.”
“A dog?”
“No, I don’t have one of those either.”
“So what’s so special about you?”
The man widens his stance and puts his hands on his hips, and says, “I’m self-aware.”
The bartender stares, speechless. He stares for so long that the man begins to feel uncomfortable.
“What?” says the man eventually.
The bartender points past the man to the door. The man turns and sees every character that has ever walked into the bar. As one, they kneel down and chant, “WE’RE NOT WORTHY!”
And then the bar falls down and turns to dust.
***
A man walks into a bar. Stop me if you’ve heard this one.
“But Martha! You can’t start a soap opera in the middle! People will never watch!”
“Oh Peter, you idiot. They do it all the time! They turn on the television one afternoon and they sit down with their glass of scotch and they’re hooked!”
“They do?”
“Of course they do. Do you think everyone who watches an afternoon serial started at the beginning? For God’s sake, Peter! Most of the shows are older than their viewers!”
“So that means…”
Martha raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow.
“That means…”
“Come on, Peter, spit it out!”
“That means we have viewers!”
“By George, I think he’s got it! Someone give the man a cookie!”
Linda G. Hill 