« Stacy: So Married | Main | Michele: Room With a View »

May 24, 2005

Volume 1, Issue 12

Do you ever feel like you are being watched?

Do you ever enjoy watching?

Which side of the glass are you on?

Or, do you have something original to say about today's theme word:

FISHBOWL

Bookmark: del.icio.us • Digg • reddit

Comments

"Look Mom, I'm an astronaut!"

"Mikey, get that fishbowl off your head, it's going to get stuck and then what are you going to do?"

"Aww, Mom! You're no fun. ... uh, Mom? It's stuck! Help me Mom, it's stuck!"

"See, I told you, now what are you going to do?"

(Later at the Hospital)

"I'm Sorry Mrs. Trefry, there's nothing we can do. We could try breaking it, but the procedure is just too risky"

...

And so it was that I became known as Bubble Head, protector of Justice and a fine example for children to listen to their mothers.

Admin note - Comment update emailed to us by commenter, now comes in at the 100 word limit. Let this be a lesson to you all...it says 100 words and we mean it! :)

Posted by: Michael Trefry at May 24, 2005 3:52 AM · Permalink

Crap, these have to be exactly 100 words? Can I edit mine? Please?

Posted by: Michael Trefry at May 24, 2005 4:16 AM · Permalink

You can send us an email. And beg. :)

Posted by: Sekimori at May 24, 2005 4:24 AM · Permalink

Glass, pebbles, castle, plant. Glass, pebbles, castle, plant. Glass, pebbles, castle, plant. Not even a real plant fercrissakes. And would it kill them to turn the tv this way?

Gad, it's so boring in here. Not like at the store, where there was more room and the occasional snail to chat with. And that cool fake diver that spewed bubbles. *sigh*

Swim thru the castle. Again. Sniff the fake turquoise and orange plant. Once more. Check for food. Nope. Around and around. Same thing every day.

Hmmm. Noisy little blonde kid that's always banging on the glass. Fingers? Mouth?

Crap.

Posted by: Tanya at May 24, 2005 4:55 AM · Permalink

He had been in the ATM booth for an hour. His hand shook as he checked his account again. The right hand this time; always left, then right. His balance was the same. It was only a matter of time until the money was gone. They were after him.

He hadn’t figured out that many “people” around him were anything but until he was in his twenties. Then the dreams revealed the truth about the robots. The meds dulled the truth, so no more meds.

A woman came up behind him. He saw sunlight flash on metal, and he screamed.

Posted by: Hubris at May 24, 2005 5:21 AM · Permalink

Kevin was transfixed by the two goldfish swimming in his fishtank. "Sure, they don't talk to each other," he said to himself, "but they seem happy together. I mean, look at how they chase each other, how they play together. There are no distractions, no worries... just two fish and a little plastic castle. Neither one can just leave when things get a little boring; neither one will hurt the other one... They'll just keep on swimming together for the rest of their lives, content with each other."

Kevin signed the divorce papers, poured a glass of bourbon, and sobbed.

Posted by: Johnny Catbird at May 24, 2005 5:46 AM · Permalink

He knew the risk when he joined them and now bound at the wrist, hanging naked from the ceiling, he watched through narrowed eyes as the obsequious toady laid out the tools of torture. He knew behind the mirror Glorious Leader himself would be here today to watch.

Toady raised a scapel and advanced.

One final act of defiance. Pain, then opening his mouth to shower toady in blood from his severed tongue. He only regretted that he’d never walk down the street with his wife and glory in the sight of her hair in the sunlight without a burkha.

Posted by: Darleen at May 24, 2005 6:53 AM · Permalink

The M1 Abrams did its deadly job for over two decades. During that time it carried its crew of a driver, an engineer and three gunners relentlessly across battlefields in seven countries. Digitized situational awareness and the fusion of onboard and remote battlefield sensors made the M1 Abrams an effective killing machine.

The machine was pockmarked now and showed its age with rust. Faster, deadlier machines were replacing it.

Turret barrel filled with cement, the tank was unceremoniously dumped overboard. As coral reef building material, the machine built for death would now help to sustain life for hundreds of years.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at May 24, 2005 6:57 AM · Permalink

I don't remember last night and I don't remember how I got here.

All I know is that when I came to, the room was bright and I had to squint. I sat up, feeling cold and discovered that my clothes were missing.

It was then I noticed I wasn't alone. Some were tall, others were short, but all of them had large black eyes, long wiry fingers, and most striking of all, dark grey skin. It was then I noticed my cell, four clear walls.

I stood and began to scream at them. I swear those bastards were smiling.

Posted by: Shawn at May 24, 2005 7:12 AM · Permalink

Every morning, she awoke at 7:00. Took a shower; ate oatmeal; drank coffee. Drove to work.

She always ate lunch at the same coffee shop. Tuna sandwich. More coffee.

After work, she drove to her little house. Watched TV. Bed at 11:30.

On weekends she would go to a movie or dinner with friends.

She never left the small town she lived in.

She would stare at her goldfish in its fishbowl, thinking how sad it couldn’t leave its confines. Like the fish, she never saw the walls of her prison. Unlike the fish, she had constructed those walls herself.

Posted by: Lesley at May 24, 2005 7:50 AM · Permalink

The Sunday school teacher is talking, clinically, about the spirit leaving the body after death.

In front of me, a brunette with slim fingers is scratching her husbands back through his starched shirt. Across the aisle, an older couple’s shoulders are pressed together as they share a bible. A young father stands at the back of the room holding his new son.

Everywhere I look I see hands and fingers seeking out the comfort of flesh, bone, hair.

I want to freeze the moment and ask if it would really be so easy to leave your body in the ground.

Posted by: skinbad at May 24, 2005 8:16 AM · Permalink

BANG

scamper scamper

whimper annnnnnddddddddd..... bawling.

They wanted those damn fish. Two fish. Pretty little, i forget. neons? The kind that glow in the dark. My wife, the environmentalist, lets them buy fish that get injected with chemicals so they glow in the dark.

Fish that are no doubt stuck between the floorboards, gasping for life while my two angels scream their pretty little heads off and cut themselves on broken glass.

-Yes, honey.
-No, no problem.
-You go.
-I'll watch them.
-Nah. They'll be fine.
-What harm could they do in an hour?

I guess I'd better get up.

Posted by: hayner at May 24, 2005 8:45 AM · Permalink

He thought he'd look like a spaceman.

Instead, he looked a lot like an eight year old who couldn't breathe.

He ran around the living room, nose pressed sideways against the glass and eyes bulging.

His body ached with panic as he ran into the bathroom. Socks slid across linoleum and brought him before the toilet. Falling to his knees and closing his eyes, he banged his forehead against the seat. Glass rained upon the floor and into the bowl, frightening the goldfish inside.

THINK!

Yes.... He would tell his mother that the fish had made a break for it.

Posted by: Adam at May 24, 2005 8:47 AM · Permalink

"What's the most amazing, inexplicable thing that you've ever seen while diving?"
"That's a toughie. I guess, the time I was checking out some old shipwreck. It had a this mermaid figurehead, and I swear it moved it's head, like it was giving me the eye."
"Did you hit it?"
"Hell, no. I don't want splinters in my dick. What about you? What's the strangest thing you've seen?"
"Well, I did once see a fishbowl."
"What's so extraordinary about that?"
"You're right; it was nothing special. It never broke 180 and couldn't make a 7-10 split to save it's life."

Posted by: Jeff R. at May 24, 2005 8:54 AM · Permalink

Ramon blushed again as Evelyn and Justin walked past the glass conference room, stifling giggles. As they passed, copy room Edna walked by and shot him a glare the likes of which he hadn't seen since his grandmother died. Ramon waited for Andrews who had summoned him and thought.

Why had he come back to work to finish up after six martinis?

Why did he lie on the scanner?

Why email the Big Fella to his wife?

But mostly: How did he copy the entire office?

Abner quickly passed, averting his eyes. Behind him, Andrews approached carrying a pink document.

Posted by: Foster at May 24, 2005 2:50 PM · Permalink

"Well, I did once see a fishbowl."

That's plain silly! I like it!

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at May 24, 2005 4:45 PM · Permalink

"Right! Here goes."

The lights dimmed as the silver widget sucked power. Giles, watching the computer, missed seeing the glassy bubble pop out of it and grow rapidly.

"Hey! Whoa!" Julian said, stepping back. But he was inside the fishbowl in an instant. He saw a swirly dust of sparks clustering at its center before the thing suddenly vanished.

"Baby universe, wow. Where's it gone?"

"Oh it detaches into a different dimension. Contact is only possible at the instant of birth."

The door opened, and something bizarre came in. Behind it, through the open door, was certainly nothing recognizably human-made.

Posted by: Carthoris of Helium at May 24, 2005 5:15 PM · Permalink

Thanks to "Today", everyone knows I'm nuts.
But I'm not nuts, and there's good reason for wrapping
my house in aluminum sheeting and tinfoil.

And it has nothing to do with radio waves.
I just want one private moment, a cover for my fishbowl.

I invented the Viewer two nights ago. With neutrino transducers, a
nanoquantum black hole, and several Macs, I can see through anything
nonmetallic. Long distance, even.

Juanita next door was watching "Lost".

"W" was asleep, Laura was reading romances.

And someone at the NSA was watching me on his laptop.

I'm not expecting them to knock.

Posted by: Randy Shane at May 24, 2005 7:12 PM · Permalink

Enya kept forgetting to clean the bowl. Another dead fish.

“Stupid betta fish,” she’d mutter and dig through the murky water. She tried to catch them in the morning. If she waited too long, they’d melt in her fingers when she picked them out. Yuck.

Mom told Enya they were easy to care for.

“you just put them in the bowl and they take care of themselves.”

Yeah. Right, mom. Like most motherly advice from a woman who wore purple jumpsuits to work, the devil was in the details.

But Enya kept bringing new ones home. Like a fish executioner.

Posted by: bryan at May 24, 2005 7:26 PM · Permalink

“But I like to watch!”

The man peered through the glass, his satisfaction fast on the wane now that his viewing had been interrupted.

“Yeah, yeah, you would, wouldn’t you? Sicko.” The policeman grabbed him by the collar and made to haul him off.

“I have a right to watch!” the man screamed. The policeman eyed him with a mix of amazement and disgust.

At the scene of the crime, a privacy screen was set up and the violated parties resumed swimming.

In the back of the police car, the man sobbed. “Right to privacy? They’re goldfish! Damn PETA meddlers!”

Posted by: Geoffrey Barto at May 25, 2005 12:59 AM · Permalink

A girl sits behind glass. She thinks she is alone.

She fixes her makeup, adjusts a hair fallen out of place. A moment of personal innocence in the red glare of an amsterdam street.

She looks up to catch me watching. Eyes meet. She reddens, not from the red light of her street and profession, but simple blush, caught with the mask askew.

I smile at her, and she returns the favor, and we are two people in a street, not hooker and john.

I feel my heart beat as I walk away. Her face locked forever in my mind.

Posted by: Karl Elvis at May 26, 2005 5:17 PM · Permalink