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June 23, 2005

Volume 2, Issue 23

What? It's my turn to do the theme again?

I'm still shocked that the hapless Houston Astros just swept the even more hapless Colorado Rockies today. Craig Biggio was hit twice by the pitcher and he's now one plunk away from tying Don Baylor for the modern-era record.

The theme for the day is "one away from something."

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Comments

At last, level 256. Dave glanced at the time and saw he was ten minutes ahead of the fastest time for a perect game, and started moving the joystick to maneuver Pac-Man through the maze. He collected dots, chewed power pills, gobbled ghosts until, sensing victory, he steered around the last turn and took aim at the last row of dots. Five, four, three, two...

The screen went blank, and Dave screamed in anguish. He turned and saw Hank standing next to the breaker box. "What?" Hank asked. "I told you half an hour ago I had to close up."

Posted by: hnumpah at June 23, 2005 5:49 AM · Permalink

Her spouse leaned over her shoulder and touched the tiny newborn fingers softly. The infants reflex grabbed his finger and she gave a tired haggard smile to the rest of her brood crowded around the bed waiting to see their new little brother.

"Mommy what's his name?" "Mommy does he have to share my room?" "Mommy can I take him to school for show and tell?" The questions flew from the three tow headed rugrats.

Her spouse still beaming whispered into her ear, "Just think Meg, we're only one more away from the perfect family."
She groaned planning his demise.

Posted by: Minet at June 23, 2005 7:13 AM · Permalink

Shadow always got his older brother’s hand-me-downs. He was second in being served dinner. Brother, summer baby, got the lavish birthday parties while Shadow, born 12/26, got combo gifts. Brother got a new car at 16, which he took to University, while Shadow drove mom’s gasping Rambler to junior college.

Then Brother swept away and married the girl Shadow had been dating.

The years of seething secondhood flooded through his clenched teeth at a pale and trembling Brother on the other side of Shadow’s revolver.

“Now, at least, I’ll be first at something!” Shadow shouted and pulled the trigger.

click

Posted by: Darleen at June 23, 2005 7:13 AM · Permalink

"Thank you and good night!"

Waiting at stage left was his long-time manager. "Awesome, baby! We're one step away from stardom!"

He hurried to his dressing room. Inside, he could hear the shrill screams of the gathering groupie chorus. He recalled one groupie in Minneapolis that said "I'm one step closer to Heaven with you, baby!"

He sighed and looked at the small table near the couch. A bottle of whiskey and a glass. He needed something after each show to take the edge off. He reached over and poured the first drink.

One taste away from losing it all...

Posted by: Shawn at June 23, 2005 8:04 AM · Permalink

Floating overhead I see and hear them all. That guy? Yeah, he's just one weekend away from quitting the drink. Her over there? She's one more asshole away from quitting this town. That man over there is just one more insult away from shitting on his boss' desk. Her? Just one more hit. Just one and she's done. In that bar over there are more than a dozen who are just one more drink and then they'll be ready to drive home. So was I less than fifteen minutes ago. They're all just one away and two steps too late.

Posted by: marc at June 23, 2005 8:11 AM · Permalink

This time the prize would be his. No more second place finishes. No more also-rans.

He crafted his entry carefully. From the ground up, it was designed to win. Every element of success was encoded into its being. He shaped it, caressed it, polished it to a shine that blinded even him. The result of his efforts was truly inspired by the gods. He submitted his entry in confidence that this time he would win.

He looked the next day and saw a note. He moaned, and the tears came. "We loved your entry, but it was 101 words long."

Posted by: david at June 23, 2005 9:22 AM · Permalink

“You got the right idea, Chuck. But for some reason this story doesn’t…you know…grab me.”

“What do you mean? It’s got all the elements that we were looking for. French Revolution, evil lawyers, grave-robbing, social unrest. They’re all there!”

“It’s not necessarily the plot, Chuck…”

“Is it the characters? I’ve included all the ones the story needed!”

“Nope. Nope. I don’t know, Chuck. It’s just not right.”

Rejected.

Later, Chuck sat at his writing desk. Oh hell, he thought. Might as well start over from the beginning. He carefully drew a line through the title – A Tale of One City.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at June 23, 2005 9:37 AM · Permalink

The kitten barely escaped being crushed when his owner sat down without looking...

Eight

The family dog took exception to another pet in the house...

Seven

Got tumbled dry with the laundry...

Six

Fell out of eighty foot oak tree in the back yard...

Five

Just missed being run over while crossing the street...

Four

Trapped in a trash can and almost crushed by the garbage truck...

Three

Fell off the backyard fence into a yard full of Dobermans...

Two

Chewed the dieffenbachia and had to be rushed to the vet...

One

Lucky sat quietly and considered his next move.

Posted by: hnumpah at June 23, 2005 10:18 AM · Permalink

CLIFF: "It's a little-known fact that in 1958, America was one step away from war with Portugal."

CARLA: "I swear, boss, I'm one story away from mutilating Cliff."

SAM: "Relax. You're in charge tonight. I figure I'm one date away from being completely over... her"

(crowd):"NORM!"

WOODY: "Hey Norm, how're you feeling today?"

NORM: "Just one beer away from Nirvana."

(VOICE from television): "...and Biggio's been plunked *again*, tying the world record for being hit by pitches."

CLIFF: "Hey, wasn't that Coach's record, Sam?"

SAM: "Yeah, it was. (louder) Everyone, the next round's one me. To Coach!"

(Everyone): "To Coach!"

Posted by: Jeff R. at June 23, 2005 10:31 AM · Permalink

Once again, a primitive radio signal was detected and the mechanized army was instantly awakened. In the million years since their creation, these soldiers had only one purpose. To destroy all sentient biological life.

Like each previous activation, there were more failures; fewer systems, ships and soldiers. Time does that. Although less efficient, other calculating systems stepped in to fill the voids. The coordinates were carefully triangulated and the massive fleet entered hyperspace.

Surprise was a weapon, too. The fleet left hyperspace just above the atmosphere and began its coordinated attack. The hot, acidic atmosphere of Venus destroyed every ship.

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at June 23, 2005 11:20 AM · Permalink

He awoke suddenly, disoriented. What a night it’d been…

His eyes wouldn’t open – they felt rawer and gummier than eyes had any right to be.

It was windy up here. That’s what he got, he supposed, for falling asleep on the roof. His back ached where he’d obviously lain on something – gravel, vent, who knows? Plus, judging by the ferocity of the morning sun, he was guessing he was more than a little burned. The wind really chafed.

Finally forcing his eyes open, he noted with alarm his location: midway between the top of the hotel and the street below.

Posted by: Keiran Halcyon at June 23, 2005 11:54 AM · Permalink

I wipe the sweat from my brow, and replace my cap. I'm in the zone. My whole existence is confined to my huge wad of chewing gum, the baseball and the catcher's mitt. My arm isn't even tired anymore, even though I've thrown over 100 pitches, most of them fastballs.

I look in and get the sign, fast ball outside. I reach back and hurl the ball to the plate.

"Strike two" calls the ump.

I catch the ball, and look in for the sign.

"He's one strike away from a perfect game!!!' suddenly comes from the stands.

Damn. Jinxed.

Posted by: Gahrie at June 23, 2005 11:16 PM · Permalink