Keith's Parrot

    "Please try to persuade him to come, for my sake. I am your mother after all." Keith's mom asked him a day before her fiftieth birthday. She so badly wanted Kyle, Keith's parrot, to attend, but Kyle was a stubborn parrot. He could do far more than just repeat sounds, though. Beyond mimicking your voice, he could also repeat what you say in a Finnish accent, so naturally he was even more of a hit at parties than the typical parrot.
    "I'll try, mom, but please don't get your hopes up. Kyle knows when he's just being used for his party tricks and has a much higher opinion of himself than that."
    Keith's mother sighed but agreed and went on to continue planning her party.
    "What do you say, Kyle? Will you join the party?"
    Squaaak! What's in it for me?" Kyle asked.
    "How about a bowl of cashews afterwards?" Keith offered.
    "Half before, half after" Kyle replied.
    "Deal." Keith said, and Kyle flapped away. Presumably that was his confirmation.
    Mom will be happy! Keith thought.

Meghan's House Warming

    She knelt on the carpet in her new living-room, a big cardboard box in front of her, unwrapping ornaments. A lot of ornaments. Meghan bought her condo a month prior, and her friends threw her an extravagant housewarming party.
    Being as festive as they were, though, they all made her ornaments for gifts. Once she finally felt more at home in the dwelling, she made the time to open the box. Maybe it was the newness of the place, and she just wanted to accustom herself to it, but more likely it was the daunting number of ornaments to open. Five or ten would be cute, but over two hundred ornaments was overwhelming. She couldn't bring herself to unwrap them right away; it was too stressful.
    Christmas was approaching, though, and with that comes decorating. Oh no, Christmas. . .  Meghan thought. It only now occurred to her what that would mean: even more ornaments. Most people would look forward to ornament exchanges, but when your only friends are elves, and you have hundreds of them, well your outlook on ornaments is a little different. 

The Gold-Tipped Blade

    Amongst her mother's possessions she found a gold-tipped blade. There were rumors of such a blade, but Jill always took them with skepticism. Even if they were true, any blade could be made with a gold tip. The only way to tell if this was the gold-tipped blade from the stories, was to draw blood at high noon. If this was in fact the blade, then by drawing blood when the sun was directly overhead would draw the bearer into the Radiant Realm.
    Walking in the Radiant Realm was said to give one distant vison, radiant skin, and powers of the sun.  Everything would be gold hued, sparkling with chromatic aura. Sweltering heat would encompass those around, but the walker would be immune.
    Jill would find out for herself. Fortunately for her, she'd sensed Macaime following her to her mother's dwelling, and she needed to rid him from her trail once and for all. At noon the next day, she found him on top of the hill next to her mother's house. She sauntered up to him, and he said "you knew I was following you"
    "I did. And now I mean for you to be gone." Jill replied, pacing her speech as the sun crept towards the azimuth.
    "You know I'm forbidden from returning to them without you."
    "Return to them or flee elsewhere, I care not where you go, as long as it's away from me." She paused for a moment longer. The blade began to glow as the sun approached its position. Finally, radiating golden rays, Jill continued. "The farther away from me you are, the shallower this blade will sink!" She cried and charged toward Macaime.
    With horror, he turned and ran from Jill. Maybe the organization would hear his plea if he showed them his imminent scar. Faster. You will feel the bite, but only distance will determine how deep. Faster. There!
    Macaime screamed in agony as the blade bit his calf. Jill dove for him and it nicked his leg. Only a drop was needed, and she had it.
    Jill was blinded by sudden white light. Heat radiated all around her. As her vision returned, she beheld not a luscious green hilltop where she'd been standing, but a sandy dune in the same spot. In fact, before her was only sand and rock. Sand where grass was, giant mesas where forest was. Everything wavered in the rising hot air, shimmering with the rumored chromatic aura. Then she realized she was rising too.  How?  Below her she spotted a limping scarab shuffling away. Macaime. "Go home vermin." Jill muttered.
    Jill returned to the ground and began walking opposite Macaime's direction. She had so many questions about the Radiant Realm. And she had time to answer those questions.

Between Life and Death

    She wasn't happy about it, but she'd been recalled to Life for a reason. Dr. Schmidt was famous in both realms for her cardiovascular work. In Life she helped people overcome heart issues and improve their heart conditions. In Death she helped people overcome their heartbrokenness and to move on from their heartache. It wasn't easy, and she naturally preferred working in Life, but those in Death needed the help too. In Life she played a very physical role, while in Death it was much more mental and emotional.  Considering the physical heart didn't do much in Death, this made sense.
    This time, Dr. Schmidt was recalled to Life for a patient who'd just had a heart attack. This was a recurring patient of hers, and though she preferred working in Life, she did not enjoy this particular patient. His name was Elmond, and her opinion of him did not betray the name's impression. Of the past six times she'd seen him, at least five were either cramping or gas, but the sixth was a legitimate heart attack, so she knew she had to treat this time with some concern.
    "Hello again Elmond, another heart attack today?" Dr. Schmidt said.
    "Hi Doc, yeah I think so. It really hurts this time." Elmond said.
    "Alrighty, let's have a listen." Dr. Schmidt said, listening to his chest under his shirt with her bi-reality stethoscope.
    A few moments went by and Dr. Schmidt looked up suddenly. "Elmond?  Elmond!" She cried. The nurses became alert.
    "He has no pulse, begin CPR now!" Dr. Schmidt ordered.
    One nurse began compressions, while the others monitored his vitals. It was in vain, though. His pulse did not return, and Elmond was pronounced dead. Dr. Schmidt couldn't understand what happened. A heart attack is serious, but he arrived with plenty of time for the circumstance.
    While not having Elmond as a patient anymore brought some relief, the situation still nagged at her.  What brought him to Death so harshly?
    Well, I suppose I can find out. . . she thought.
    Dr. Schmidt closed her eyes and flipped to Death. She found Elmond wandering in anguish not far away and she ran to catch up to him.
    "Elmond! What happned? Your situation was not nearly dire enough to be brought to Death." She said.
    "Dr. Schmidt? What are you doing here? How --"
    "Don't worry about that, what happened?"
    "Well, plain and simple, it's Valentina. She broke up with me and left for Antionio. My heart just couldn't take it."
    "Oh Elmond. . . I'm so sorry. You loved her."
    "I really did Dr. I loved her. . . to Death. Apparently."

Beyond the Bandit Boundary

    He had the urge to clear the ground, to look out and see nothing. Mount Steadfast stood in McEnrie's way, and beyond that, the skybox. It had taken twelve grueling weeks of grinding to make it "safely" this far out of the main hub. Any player that made it beyond the Bandit Boundary was of the highest tier, but to be able to perpetually survive was a level no one else had ever achieved.
    McEnrie was tired, and he wanted to see the end. He had made it past the Bandit Boundary a year ago and had been practicing surviving beyond the boundary since then. The grind of the past twelve weeks was for a single purpose: collection one thousand twenty-five premium-grade powder kegs. The rumor was that by igniting the theoretical in-game maximum-capacity amount of powder kegs (in this case one thousand twenty-four), would fill the game's memory. By igniting one more, the game would need to find memory somewhere, so it would glitch out the next largest available memory space (in this case Mount Steadfast). The powder kegs had to be premium grade because they were lighter; any other grade would exceed the carrying capacity at a lower amount.
    So finally, after surviving for a year beyond the Bandit Boundary, and grinding all one thousand twenty-five premium-grade powder kegs, McEnrie made it to Mount Steadfast and was ready to ignite them. He checked in with his streamers one last time, ensuring the feed was still live, before proceeding. This was the highest viewed stream in the world right now, and McEnrie felt the pressure.
    He took a deep breath, framed the camera with the horizon a third of the screen from the bottom, and tossed all one thousand twenty-five powder kegs at Mount Steadfast, and ignited. A laggy explosion filled the screen, followed by a blackout of smoke. The chat was scrolling on, but the feed was silent. The smoke cleared, and the audience beheld a sky-blue expanse. The skybox.
    Applause erupted over the feed, and McEnrie sighed a huge sigh. This could be considered: Game Complete.
    Shortly after the event, the chat started rolling swiftly again. Everyone was commenting about something "shiny." McEnrie read through them and darted his head towards the screen. They were right!  A shiny item lay beyond Mount Steadfast. He sprinted towards the location and found hovering there: the legendary Mountain's Heart and Mountain's Glance. A shield granting +100 damage block, 10ft recoil, and Stone Feet debuff, and a sword granting +100 damage, 20 freeze damage/second, and Glacial Grip debuff. McEnrie didn't need the extra stats, but the bragging rights alone were worth the grind.

Philbin's Trip to Work

    After five years, he just happened to be walking down her street?  Mrs. Demiser had tortured Philbin every day during seventh grade. Now, he finally worked through enough of his courage to get a summer job, and it takes him right past her house? "Gotta be quick" Philbin thought. Memories of his seventh-grade year returned to haunt him.
    He swiftened his pace but before he made it to the corner, a familiar sneering jeer sounded behind him.  "Well well, if it isn't Farty Philbin, the smelly kid from my seventh-grade class. Apparently, nothing has changed; I could smell you from the end of the block!" Philbin flushed but kept his gaze forward; he didn't need to respond. The worst thing he could do is turn around and give her attention.
    Taking intentional breaths, he managed to compose himself. The light was yellow; it was almost time to cross. Suddenly a wet, slimy object slapped him in the back of the head. He turned around feeling his neck and slipped on the banana peel that had just hit him. He smacked his head on the sidewalk, and Mrs. Demiser cackled a most awful cackle, with spit and phlegm harmonizing.
    Philbin wanted to get up and slap her across the face with the banana peel, but he knew his job was more important. So he turned back around to cross the street, but to his dismay, the light had changed again, and he would have to wait another entire cycle to cross the street. The cacophonous cackling crescendo'd, and Philbin couldn't continue his calm. He turned down the street to cross at another light, even if it meant taking longer to arrive at work. He'd have to find a new route to use from now on. . .

Gas Leak on the Asteroid Mine

    She could smell gas even before she opened the door. They'd prepared her for this. Asteroid mining was dangerous work, but it paid well. Shelly's training came back to her, and immediately she remembered to power down her suit to essential functions only. Anything extra running could risk sparking, which meant ignition in this scenario. . .
    With her suit powered down, Shelly proceeded with her gas leak checklist. First was to check her surroundings. That was easy. She was on the "night" shift, so there shouldn't be anyone else down this corridor right now, but protocol is protocol. No one was in sight, as she expected. Next, she initialized the manual indicator system. The gas hadn't leaked fully to trigger the autonomous system, so this was just advance precaution.
    After ensuring the sector was evacuated and the alert system was initialized, she hooked an emergency oxygen tank to her suit and isolated the corridor from the rest of the mine's ventilation. She opened the door to the mine, and a chartreuse haze filled her vision. Next on the protocol list was to vent the gas to the vacuum of space before isolating the mine itself so the repair crew could access it and fix the leak.

    Warning lights spun as the air lock opened, and Shelly traversed to the other side of the room to lock the mine down. With the current lack of atmosphere, there was no audible "click" when the door behind her closed and locked her out.
    Shelly made it to the mine entrance and made it inside to seal it from the rest of the facility without a problem. She exited, and when she was halfway across the platform, with the expanse of stars rotating above her, she noticed the door was shut. Panic filled her immediately, and when she arrived at the door, she peered through the window and began banging on it. It was still the "night" shift though, and the next shift wouldn't begin for six hours. Coincidentally, that's exactly how much air she had left in her reserve tank.
    Training slowly kicked in as she forced the panic down. "Six hours. I can wait six hours. If I can slow my breathing, and movement, maybe I can stretch it." Shelly thought. So, she sat against the door and waited.
    Just over six hours left, muffled voices could be heard scrambling through the corridor. Shelly was lying unconscious, so when the crew members opened the door, she fell right back. They pulled her in, locked the door again, and unsealed her suit. Shelly gasped for air.
    "Thank you, guys!" She wheezed
    "Oh my gosh Shelly, that was close! You were entirely on CO2, I'm glad we didn't get here any later!"  Ramone, the lead for first shift, said.
    "Looks like we need to add a couple entries to our emergency protocol." Shelly said, catching her breath.
    "Looks like it." Ramone said, chuckling.
    The first shift members contacted the repair crew, and while the leak was being fixed, Ramone and Shelly reviewed what happened, eager not to let a mistake like that happen again.

Fender Bender Falsehood

    The accident wasn't her fault; it was her mother's. But no one would ever believe that. As soon as the car crashed, Andrea's mother kicked out the windshield, dragged Andrea over to the driver's seat, and dove out the from window, making the scene look much worse than what had actually happened.
    Really it was nothing more than a fender bender, but Andrea's mother was compulsive and had a habit of making everyday things larger than life. Why Andrea still spent time with Gretchen she wasn't sure.  She loved her? It never felt like love.

    By the time the police arrived Andrea had regained her composure, but she didn't realize she had moved seats. The officer came up to her window, and noticing she was alert, asked "been driving under the influence a bit miss?"
    Andrea stammered at the question. Driving? Mom was -
    "Mom!" Andrea shouted.
    "Out of the car miss, come with us while we sort all of this out." The officer said. "Endangering yourself is one thing, but the rest of the drivers on the road, and your passengers is a whole 'nother thing.  That's your mom you say?  Tisk tisk." He added, cuffing Andrea and putting her in the back of the cruiser.
    Still in shock, and confused beyond her imagination, she didn't resist. As the car drove away, she watched her mom lying on the ground. Her mother opened one eye and made contact. And there Andrea understood. That witch she thought, as the view of her mother faded.

The Blushscourge

    Only the very oldest people remembered a time when humans could see in color. Or colors rather. . .  It had been nearly a century since the Blushscourge struck the populace. Only recently had details of the event begun to spread. Though many proclaimed secret government testing, or a genetic timer going off, the classic "aliens" conspiracy was actually the closest.

    The Blushscourge arrived at Earth from space and caused a phenomenon where the eyesight of every person became rose hued. No longer could humanity experience green or blue or any other color.  Everything was pink. Different tints and shades of pink.

    Evidently it affected everyone down to their genes because every person born since then seemed to have it. Children didn't know any different, and the older generations had gotten used to seeing everything this way, but the oldest of the old remember vividly, and seemed haunted by the loss of color daily. Innocent children always tried to cheer them up, but their dour countenance remained. What had caused the Blushscourge?  What drew it here?

Fortune Misfortune

    On the Livingstone estate, flies were sometimes the first indication that someone had died. In this case it was Gertrude Livingston, the Livingston family matriarch. When news escaped of the beloved woman's death, family came immediately to assist in the preparations.
    A day before the funeral, the family was inundated with mail. People they'd never met claimed to be distant relatives, clearly in hopes of claiming some part of Gertrude's fortune. The family was cognizant of these ruses and simply ignored the mail.
    One letter stood out, though. It clearly wasn't written in some peasantry scribble, but instead in a beautiful script, adorned with many a flourish. Olivia Livingston came across the letter first and decided to open it; The markings were too captivating to ignore.

    The contents read "And so I was right! Not a single letter written from any kind of commoner would you pay heed, but the instant you saw a beautiful, high-class script you couldn't help but open it. The eyes of this family have been desensitized to the poor, to those with no luxury, and barely the essentials. And to think a fortune of this kind would be distributed to those with no need of it. Well, whatever I thought of you all, or what should be done with this fortune, I suppose it doesn't matter now that I'm dead. Have your money, I hope your hearts soften and you use it well."
    Matilda asked Olivia who had written the letter, and Olivia found the ominous signature at the bottom.      "It's signed by Francesca Francois." Olivia replied.
    "Who's that? One of Granny Gertrude's business partners?"
    "I'm not sure, I've never heard of her." Olivia said.  "Oh well. Let's finish Granny's funeral preparations.  What are you going to do with your share of the inheritance?" She added.
    Matilda began describing her grand plans and Olivia listened intently. She always looked up to her older cousin, and even now there were things to learn from her.

Extra Stuffed Crust for Melissa

    Without meaning to, she'd arranged two dates for the same evening. And as if it couldn't get worse, it was with both of the Bumble brothers. They were infamous around town for being the most obnoxious, loud, smelly, hairy and generally unsightly people to be seen, or heard occupying the streets. Melissa clearly wasn't thinking straight at all because not only did she schedule two dates for the same evening, and not only were they with the Bumble brothers, but they were at the same restaurant.
    "What have I done..." Melissa sighed as her cat, Mr. Lonelyface came over to cuddle her. Melissa was a woman of her word though, so she put on her best dinner attire and chose to make the most of her situation.
    When she arrived at Pizzatown, Harold Bumble was waiting there to greet her. From across the street he yelled "Hey! Melissa! Over here, I got here early for our date!" Blushing, Melissa quickly crossed the street and let Harold hold the door for her.
    They ordered a stuffed crust pizza to split, and Melissa ordered a Diet Coke, while Harold ordered a Mountain Dew. The conversation was more of an exercise of how well Melissa could squeeze her tensor tympani trying to muffle the noise the fellow made.
    The check came and Melissa's nerves began to loosen. Surprisingly, Harold paid, and boomed a "Thanks for the date, Missy!" on the way out of the door. Melissa smiled and began to walk home by habit. Relief gave way to overwhelming anxiety when she heard a similar booming from the same direction Harold went. "Harry! Where have you been! I was looking for you to tell you about my hot date tonight!"
    Melissa completely forgot about her second date in the anticipation of ending the first. Harold's brother, Guy, was on his way to meet his "hot date."
    "Hot date? You?  I'll believe it when I see it. I just finished my own hot date at Pizzatown. Still has the best stuffed crust in town, naturally!"
    "Oh, shut up, I'll see ya later and we can talk pizza then!"
    "You know it brother!" Harold yelled back from across the street. Melissa was mortified to be seen in public with them, and even more so to be their "hot date."
    Guy met Melissa at the front of Pizzatown and explained that the person he was "talking to" was his brother.
    "You don't say." Melissa replied.
    Defeated, Melissa sat back down at Pizzatown to another delicious stuffed-crust pizza and Diet Coke, while Guy helped himself to Pizzatown's free refills of Mountain Dew.
    "You don't eat much." Guy nearly shouted at her. "You watching your weight? I guess that explains the Diet Coke." He added, laughing wide mouthed and letting pizza fly back on the platter as if he was trying to restuff the crust.
    Holding back tears, the check finally came, and thankfully again, she was saved at least the financial burden of the evening.
    Scurrying back to her apartment to shouts of "Hey, Missy, let's do that again some time! Great pizza, huh?" Melissa crashed through her door and collapsed on the couch in tears. "What is wrong with people! What is wrong with me, why would I ever agree to a date with either of them?" she shouted into her blankets.

    Mr Lonelyface joined her as she continued her tirade. "I know what everyone says about those brothers, but I can't believe there isn't an ounce of exaggeration in those stories."
    Mr. Lonelyface purred and snuggled her as she fell asleep, eager for a new day.

Lost, then Found in the Rain

    He'd had a bad day and just needed something to make him feel better. Unfortunately, the thing that could make him feel better was a mile away lost in a storm drain. Nicholas was playing at Arthur's house, in the storm drain down the hill. They were in a phase where they would go exploring in the drain and see how far they could go without letting the claustrophobia affect them.

    So far they'd only been able to make it past one junction. When he arrived home this last evening, he realized he had left his Macho Rocko toy in the drain in the hurry of shuffling backwards to get out.
    Today was supposed to be the amusement park field trip, but it was cancelled due to rain, so Nicholas and Arthur were sitting in school like a regular day. Except it wasn't even a regular day because even recess had to be taken inside. Nicholas had lost all hope for the day, so by the time school was over he trudged along to the doors trying to think about tomorrow. As he passed through the doorway Arthur exclaimed "Nick! It stopped raining! I wonder what the drain is like today?"
    Nicholas perked up at the idea. All the rain meant there would probably still be water rushing out of the drain; It would be like wild rapids they'd have to navigate.
    Arthur and Nicholas ran to the hill by Arthur's house and sure enough, the was still a bunch of water flowing from the pipe. "Let's go!" they cried, and their imaginations took them away.
    As they were playing, Nicholas had completely forgotten about his bad day, and about losing Macho Rocko. When it was Nicholas' turn to be "saved" by Arthur, though, something hit him right in the head.         "Macho Rocko!" Nicholas shouted.
    "The water brought him all the way back out! Good thing we came today, Nick!" Arthur said.
    "Definitely!" Nicholas smiled, holding Macho Rocko up; a trophy for their heroic deeds as rescuers in the deluge.

Heaven on Clearance

    The little boy's idea of heaven was a giant ice cream cone the size of his bed. In the shape of his bed too. And the sheets were cotton candy, but the kind that didn't melt when it got wet. Because an ice cream bed would be cold, so he would need a big pile of non-melty cotton candy to keep him warm in his ice cream bed.
    When Joshua thought of his ice cream bed in heaven it always brought a smile to his face. Mom and Dad could always tell when Joshua was thinking about his ice cream bed. He had this far-off look, and whatever he was upset about a minute before would be forgotten. This was how they liked him to be.

    One day Mom and Dad had a surprise for Joshua. It wasn't an ice cream bed, but it was still really cool. It was new bed sheets, decorated with ice cream cones and cotton candy puffs! "We couldn't find you a real ice cream bed, Joshua. But while Mommy and I were out at the store we found these on clearance and thought you might like them."
    Joshua stood speechless for a moment. Then he erupted in joyful screaming "THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! Mom! Dad! You brought be heaven on clearance from the store, you're the best! Can I sleep with them tonight?"
    Mom and Dad chuckled "Of course Joshua, why don't you and Daddy go play outside and I'll change your sheets right now." Mom replied.
    "Okay! Let's go Dad!" Joshua said, pulling Dad by the hand out the door.
    Dad just laughed, and as he was walking out the door said "I think he likes them!"
    Mom said "I think so too dear!" and went up to change Joshua's sheets.

Knees for Benjamin

    It was up to her to investigate how the accident had really happened. Morgan Benigglio was the tri-state area's top investigator for lawn mower related incidents, and this case had stumped all the other investigators in her region. Even Stanley "Do the Lawnmower" Franklin couldn't figure out how the man's knees had been severed free from his legs while remaining unharmed otherwise.

    Morgan left her home at nine o'clock sharp, as usual, and hailed a taxi. On the way to the hospital she reviewed her notes, remembering what Stanley said to her the afternoon before. "Something about this doesn't add up, Morgan, but I can't put a finger on it. The victim's knees were severed straight from both the femur and tibia, and while I can't figure out how it was done, one thing I do know is he won't be doing the hokey pokey for a long time." Morgan absently nodded in agreement.

    When the taxi pulled up to the hospital, Morgan paid her fare then went to find the victim in the dismemberment unit. She found Benjamin awake and in good spirits, waiting for his knee-reattachment surgery. "Hi detective Benniglio! I never had the chance to thank you or your team for getting me and my knees to the hospital in time. The surgeon said if it had been even a couple hours later my knees wouldn't have been able to be reattached."
    "It's not a problem Benjamin, I'm glad to see you're doing well. . . all things considered."  Morgan replied.
    Benjamin smiled, and Morgan continued. "Before the operation, I was hoping you could answer some questions for me."
    "Of course, anything to help close this case." Benjamin replied.
    "You said you were walking your dog, and you suddenly heard a lound noise reapidly approaching from behind. Did you catch a glimpse of the person driving the lawnmower?"
    "I'm sorry ma'am, I heard the noise and the next thing I knew I was on the ground, kneeless.  Everything went black, except. . ."
    Morgan perked up.  "Except what?"
    "Well, I do remember seeing a bright pink hawaiian shirt with white flowers on it.  I remember thinking right before I blacked out 'now that's ostentatious', but it wasn't too much of a concern seeing as how I had lost my knees."
    "Loud Larry. Of course." Morgan whispered.
    "Sorry ma'am, who?" Benjamin asked just before the nurse came to wheel him into the operating room.
    "Loud Larry, we've been looking for him for years. Good luck in surgery Benjamin, we'll worry about Loud Larry, you worry about getting your knees back on your legs."
    "Thanks detective Morgan, I can't thank you enough!"
    Morgan nodded, then rushed out the door to find her culprit.

Late Father's Blessing

    She decided to go to her father's grave, to ask his advice regarding the marriage proposal from Jeremy.  The death of her father still hung heavy in her heart, so it was only fitting she ask what he thought. When she spoke her question, a moment later the ground shifted and a hand clawed up from below the earth.

    Anna gasped and stood back in fear. "Father?" she questioned.

    "Yyyyesss. It isss you fattthhhaaahh. Annnnaaaa" replied the head that was now poking out of the ground.

    "Oh father!" cried Anna. "I thought I'd never speak to you again! Well, what do you think of Jeremy? He's the sweetest man, but I don't know if it'd be wise to marry him."
    "Jeremyyyy isss one coooool duuudddee. Annnnaaaa." Her father replied. "Donnn't looose hiiiimmm!"

    "Oh fath--""

     "Annnnaaaa."
    "-- Oh father, you mean he has your blessing! How wonderful! Thank you! Thank you!" Anna replied, rejoicing at the news.

    Anna ran back to town to find Jeremy. He was at the skate park as usual, doing flips while drinking a slushie. As she arrived, he had sat down to look over a client's taxes, and she sat next to him.
    "Anna! Did you give any thought to my proposal?" Jeremy asked.
    "Well, I did think about it. And I've been so torn recently, but I went to my father's grave to ask what he thought, and he gave you his blessing! So... Yes, I will marry you!" Anna replied.
    "Really? That's great, we'll start planning right away! Celebratory skate?"
    "Uh. Of course!" Anna said, strapping her helmet on and dropping into the bowl.

    The newly engaged couple skated well into the night, and the following summer they were wed. The cemetery groundskeeper had to re-bury Anna's father because people kept tripping over his head. Often, he'd be heard muttering "Stupid guy. . . Fourth time this month. . ." but mourners tried to keep to themselves and let him do his job.

Turmeric for Bendrigal

    The Ferrari stopped and the tinted window opened to reveal Michael Frankincense, the world class spice dealer. Everyone in Georgia knew of him. If you needed spices, he could get them to you, at a good price too.

    One day, Bendrigal Jones needed some turmeric for his special, all-purpose cold remedy. It was cold season in Georgia, and all the Georgians were coming down with the sniffles. Out of desperation, Bendrigal ran across the street in his pants and sandals to catch the attention of Mr. Frankincense, and it's lucky that's all he wore because that's exactly the kind of thing that would draw Michael Frankincense's attention.

    "Ho there! Shirtless man! What are you doing running across this busy street with only some loose trousers and sandals?" Michael shouted to Bendrigal.
    "Mr. Frankincense, I'm so sorry for my inappropriate attire, but you're my only hope! I'm out of turmeric and the sniffles are rampant through the state. Do you have any to spare that I may help these poor people?"
    "Turmeric? Of course I have turmeric. This baby runs on the stuff!" Michael bellowed, as the hood popped open in a cloud of yellow dust. "Help yourself kiddo!" he added.
    "Oh, thank you Mr. Frankincense, I won't forget this. You've shown me tremendous kindness this day!" Bendrigal said.
    "Don't I know it kid!" Michael Frankincense yelled back, holding up a cloudy, yellow martini, as the Ferrari screeched away.

    The crowd around the streets stood gaping, and sniffling, at the scene, and Bendrigal walked back to his shop with a sack full of turmeric, ready to make his all-purpose remedy for those same people staring.

Chocolate Orange Heroes

    With him, she'd had some wonderfully stable times. Mostly it was at the top when he was spotting her, but even when she was at the bottom of the pyramid, with him, they always kept the cheer team steady.

Mac was the strong, macho type, always ready to support a cheerleader in front of the crowd. He was always extra eager to be the base for Sharene. The two of them went together like orange and chocolate. In fact that's about what they looked like. Mac, with his heavily sprayed-on tan and pithy hair, and Sharene, with her dark complexion, were the school's popular dessert-themed couple.

    When they performed the double flip-twitch, they became a swirl of artificial-orange and dark brown, and the audience couldn't help but salivate at the sight. Coach Razzmataz was cautious with the two, but it pumped up the crowd, and he'd take any moral support he could get. The Main Street Cookies were getting crumbled on the field, and he would hate to suffer another loss.

    In the final quarter, the Cookies were down by two; all they needed was a field goal to win the game.  They managed to advance within kicking range, and Coach made the call. Mac and Sharene knew what to do. There was only one move to bring the players and crowd together in strong enough bond to overcome their nerves: The Triple Chocolate Dunk.

    As the kicker found his footing, Sharene began her sprint toward Mac. The rest of the squad formed a ring, with several of the other males supporting a large trampoline. When Sharene reached Mac, he launched her through the air over to the trampoline. As she performed her triple flip, Mac began his triple back flip towards the same trampoline.

    The holder caught the snap and steadied it for the kicker. Mac launched off the platform. Sharene descended towards the target. The kicker struck the ball true. Mac and Sharene met in mid-air, again swirling in orange-chocolately amazement. And as the ball flew straight through the goal post, Mac and Sharene landed center of the trampoline, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

    Coach Razzmataz, along with the rest of the team, and eventually the crowd, rushed the field and hoisted the kicker up. Amid the fanfare, he looked over to Mac and Sharene and gave them a knowing wink. They smiled back and joined the rest of the cheer squad in their celebratory routine. 

Failure to Muffin

    He sat her down and held her close before telling her the terrible news. She'd asked him several times.  He'd understood the request clearly, and still he failed. He forgot to take the muffins out of the oven. Her head fell into her hands as she began crying. He looked away, ashamed for having forgotten such a simple request. "Fourteen minutes" he could still hear her repeating. That's all he had to do was pay attention for fourteen minutes, and he failed.

    The next day she came downstairs to a wonderful aroma. "Muffins?" she exclaimed. Sitting at the front of the kitchen table was. . . not muffins. It was coffee. "I may not be able to bake muffins" he said. "But I can make muffin flavored coffee!"

    She rolled her eyes but smiled, took the mug, and sat next to him. Grimacing after the first sip she asked "What flavor muffin coffee is this honey?" And with a wide smile he replied "Banana."

The Cross that Clowns Bear

    He hadn't meant to scare the child, but they warned him about this in clown school. "Four in sixty-seven children are frightened of clowns, so you're going to come across this scenario in your career." Mrs. Honkyhonk said on their first day. Those that couldn't handle the burden dropped out right there. The others that pushed onward fought hard to come to terms with this realization.

    When Bonko returned from his flashback, the child was still staring at him, voice hoarse from screaming so loud, and for so long. The child's mother ran over to console him, and when she picked him up, the child didn't break eye contact. It was unnerving.

    Bonko had expected the fright. But the persistence this child showed was uncanny. The rest of the children looked away from the child, their faces shifting from horror back to eager awaiting of the clown's performance. Bonko mustered up his courage and continued on through the show. He lacked the enthusiasm he arrived with though. What clown could perform with a sobbing child staring through to his heart?

Squeaks for Fryman

    As he opened the car door, there was a loud squeak. Fryman jumped when he heard it. As he composed himself from the shock, he peered in to see what could have made the noise. The squeak sounded again when he bent down to look under the steering wheel, and once again he jolted up, this time banging the back of his head on the steering wheel.

    He reached up to rub it, and again, the squeak came. Fryman realized the sound occurred every time he was near the lower side of the car door. He waved his hand below and sure enough, he heard the squeak. Inspecting the area closely, he noticed a small thread running from the car door, through the steering wheel, to the passenger side under the glove compartment. There he found a rubber chicken tied at the other end of the thread. Fryman chuckled and shook his head. "Those rascals. Got me again with the ol' 'rubber-chicken-tied-to-the-car-door' trick. Every week. . . one of these days I'll learn!" he sighed.

Belated Recognition of Merit

    When she opened the door, she wished she could have done it sooner. Applause sounded throughout the room as Jennifer walked on stage. She was here to receive her high school diploma after spending the past three years in and out of the hospital.

    Despite not being present for a majority of the time, Jennifer still studied as hard as she could and completed every assignment that her incapacity didn't prevent her from accomplishing. The take-home tests her teachers sent home proved sufficient enough to demonstrate her knowledge of the subject matter. Though not in time for graduation, the doctors cleared her to return home a month after school finished.

    She had passed all of her classes but missed all of the celebrations. The principal had invited her to receive her diploma in person at the school, and when she walked into a room full of her friends, classmates, and teachers, she was brought to tears. The principal gave a wonderful speech; an encomium of her efforts through the hardship she faced all through high school. When the speech ended the audience rushed to the stage to congratulate her. Jennifer's friends invited her out afterward, and she gladly accepted; she'd been longing for this most of all.

Cosmic Cacophany

    She sat in the chair, staring into space, while the kids charged around above her, yelling at the tops of their voices. "See! See! Little Courtney! Can't you see all that space can be?" It was an enchanting rhyme, and to it she focused on the cosmos. Galaxies swirled, stars formed and exploded in bursts of bright light. This was the universe on a grand scale. And the tune to which she witnessed it was these children, yelling the same chant over and over. "See! See!"

    Courtney couldn't ignore the noise, though, so watch she did. She watched the creation of planets, the annihilation of matter, and the vast paintings of nebulae strewn across the sky. It was beautiful. She couldn't understand how the children fit into the picture, but if she watched long enough, maybe she'd understand.

Money Mayhem

    There was nothing left of the money except two dollars.  Two dollars out of the ten they'd earned doing door to door selling candy bars. Francis was furious. How could Brendan spend eight dollars by himself? Francis stomped down to Brendan's house to confront him. When he arrived, he pounded on the door.  Brendan answered, "Hey man, what's up?"

    Francis replied "We only have two dollars left, that's what's up! You spent eight of our ten by yourself!" 

    "I didn't spend that money." Brendan said. "I was just about to come over and see if you wanted to try and make some more." 

    Francis stood back. "Well, I didn't spend the money, so where did the other eight go? Does your sister know about the money box?"

    "I don't think so" Brendan replied "I haven't spoken about it to anyone." 

    "So what do we do?" Francis asked. "I guess we can always sell more candy bars, but we need a new hiding spot if someone is stealing our money."

    "Good point. Did you look around and see if any of it was just misplaced?"

    "Actually I came over here as soon as I saw some of it was missing"

    "Let's go check and see if any of it is just misplaced then"

    "Alright, let's go."

    Francis and Brendan ran back to Francis' house and pulled out the money box. They couldn't find any on the floor or in any of the drawers. "Did you miscount by any chance?" Brendan asked.

    "No way, I triple checked" Francis replied.

    "Let me see" said Brendan.

    Francis opened the box and sure enough there were two bills. Brendan looked up at Francis with a deadpan stare. "You idiot, these are FIVE DOLLAR bills. All ten dollars are right here."

    "You said we had ten dollars, not two five dollars! You need to learn your counting again!"  Francis replied.

    "That's not how it works! Ugh nevermind. The money's all there, just keep it safe, we need it to restock our supply." Brendan said, walking away.

    "Oh" said Francis.

    On his way home Brendan muttered "I should have realized something was up when he said two dollars left..."

Bullied by Brother

    As the prison gate closed behind him, he saw someone waiting for him. It was his uncle, Jericho. He hated Jericho. Every time he came over when Simon was younger, it was noogie after noogie.

 Thankfully his parents intervened before it turned to wedgies. Well, his mother intervened anyway. His father, Renold, usually escaped to somewhere else in the house. "Quit it, Jerry!" Renold could often be heard yelling in his sleep. Simon felt bad for his dad. But why should he receive poor treatment from Uncle Jerry too? And why was his mom the one standing up to him? At least someone was, but Simon felt he needed to protect his mother. 

    At the other end of the street an old station wagon arrived. It was his parents. Simon's dad was driving, that meant his mother would be available to intervene between Simon and Jericho. "This time will be different" thought Simon. "Uncle Jerry has gone on too long picking on our family." As Simon left the gate, Jericho began approaching him. Simon walked faster and faster, keeping his head up, trying to look tough the whole time. Just as Simon reached the station wagon, his mother Eleanor, opened her door to face the man. "Stop mom" Simon said. "Oooh a little tough guy" Jericho yelled as Simon turned around, trying hard to remain firm between his family and his uncle.

    "That's great, at least one man in the house will look out for that woman" Jericho added, laughing. In the driver's seat Renold gripped the steering wheel tightly as rage, and shame built inside. As Jericho pushed Simon back with a single finger, something inside Renold snapped. He swung open the door and stomped towards Jericho. "Leave my family alone Jerry! Leave me alone!" he shouted. Jericho just laughed harder. "Simon, get in the car" Renold said to his son.

    Being stood up to was unusual to Jericho, and he didn't like it. "You were always such an annoying older brother" he said, moving toward Renold threateningly. "You've always been so pathetic! Just so... urgh PATHETIC!" he shouted, stepping right up to Renold with fists clenched. Jericho couldn't contain his emotions any longer, he gripped Renold with one hand and prepared to punch the hardest punch he'd ever punched right towards Renold's face.

    As he stepped forward, though, Renold had the boldness to try and not get punched in the face, and it worked. As he dodged his head out of the way, Jericho's fist carried the rest of him past his brother into the station wagon's headlight, knocking himself in his own head. Renold spun in shock, and as he did, he slipped on some loose gravel and still managed to end up on the ground.

    Before Jericho could get up and have his vengeance, Renold rushed to the driver's seat, and the family buckled their seatbelts and drove away. Jericho stood up and glared at them, and they could feel his wrath through the backs of their seats. He turned to enter his own car, and as he did a girl on a pink bicycle ran into him, knocking him down again. "Move jerk!" the girl said, kicking him in the leg before continuing her bike ride.

    "Mom, what do we do when Uncle Jerry comes for us?" Simon said, frightened. "We do the same thing we did today" Renold interrupted. "We stand up to him and show him we won't be bullied any longer."  Eleanor beamed as she looked at her husband in a wonderful new light. They celebrated their victory with ice cream that afternoon and began to consider better ways to defend themselves.

Memories Given Time and Space

    The old photos made her conscious of her age, of how much time had passed - and of what an interesting life she'd had. It was a Tuesday at the country club, and it was the third time today Belvediere had looked through the pictures. All the other ladies walked by, murmuring under their breathes.

    Occasionally Belvediere would catch utterances of ". . . only thirty-six" or ". . .hardly old at all." But she just rolled her eyes. How could they possibly understand what she used to look and feel like. Back when she was the beauty pageant queen and had her hair done by Nightly Queen Sunshine on a weekly basis.

They couldn't understand plain and simple. How could she blame them though? Thirty-six to them was still relatively young. For a Martian though? Her life might as well be over now. But then her father's voice sounded in her head. "Remember Belvediere, we're sending you to Earth so you can live a longer, more fulfilling life. Please, make the most of it!" Belvediere sighed. Maybe the pictures were getting to her. She put them in the box, stood up, and joined the other ladies walking by. "Time to make some Earth friends" Belvediere thought. 

When Eggs Fail to Devil

    She'd only given in because she was lonely. The eggs called to her from the kitchen. At first softly. As the night went on, they grew louder, and before long they were screaming. Screaming with a psychotic scream that only eggs could scream.

    Eggnabelle couldn't handle it any longer. She pulled over her cardigan, the egg colored one naturally and got up to make herself a bowl of deviled eggs. She heated the water to boil them, and once it was hot enough, she tossed all six in. Minutes felt like hours as she waited for them to boil. "Why do they need to hard boil?" she thought, as if a minute or two less would make any difference to her. Well. . . it might have, for Eggnabelle truly loved eggs.

    Ding! Finally! The eggs were ready. She shelled them, cut them each in half and scooped all the yolks out. She creamed them with the extra creamy mayonnaise from Shnick's Deli, mixed with some spices, and scooped the concoction into her piping bag. Eggnabelle fiddled in the cookie cutter drawer -- where all the knickknacks end up -- for the special star-shaped piping tip. Eventually she found it and fastened it to the piping bag.

    Into each half-egg she piped a tablespoon of mixture, and by now she was salivating like a Great Dane looking at a bone. All finished, she put the piping bag aside, grabbed an egg and proceeded to place it in her mouth. "Oh!" Eggnabelle thought. "Paprika! Of course!" She turned back towards the spice cabinet and rummaged through looking for the paprika. She searched frantically and eventually realized she had none. There was no paprika for her deviled eggs.

    She turned back, tears pooling in her eyes. All of her hard work was in vain. As she bawled a horribly ugly bawl, she grabbed a not-deviled egg, salted it, then ate it. The salt of her tears mixed with the egg as she masticated, and though it'd be too salty for a normal person, this was the only thing she could taste through her bitterness