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August 5, 2005

Volume 5, Issue 5

It's Friday The Fifth.

Today, you'll need to feature the number five in your story somehow.

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The balls fly through the air. First three in the standard infinity pattern, hands circling in support. Then a fourth. Different patterns and styles, switching back and forth. Three balls gets you into the zone, you can go all day staring through the pattern. Start with some minor variations to get ready for four.

Four requires more attention. Fountain, cascades, integrating various body parts, breaking a sweat after a time. Getting a sense for how I am doing today. Feeling ok, haven't dropped many yet. Do I go for it or not? I think so.

And they all fall down.

Posted by: JAB at August 5, 2005 7:09 AM · Permalink

Today's show was brought to you by the letters A and G and by the number 5!

"Screw you," says the drunken number to the puppets and letters. "I made this episode, and this is all I get?"

"Now, Five, just relax, be cool," says the letter A.

"I don't have to take this!" blubbers out the digit as he pulls out a gun, beading down on the puppets.

"NOOO!" the cry went up before the crack of the gun. One, Two, Three, Four shots.

"What have I done?" Five says.

*bang*

Today's show was ended by the number Five.

Posted by: BenC at August 5, 2005 7:59 AM · Permalink

"Your lucky number is 5" read the back of the fortune from the Five Lucky Dragons restaurant.

And since that point I've had five traffic accidents, five murder attempts (two stabbings, a shooting, a strangling, and a poisoning), and five bounced e-mails. My doctor says I've got five times the normal risk of sudden onset amnesia. Once each day this work-week, there have been bomb scares near my office. Five of our biggest clients have pulled their contracts, leading to a five-percent pay cut for all staff.

But you know, I'm still "increasingly popular and well-liked" ...in bed.

Not bad.

Posted by: Thomas at August 5, 2005 8:17 AM · Permalink

Five seconds to blast-off. Chevas paws frantically at the control panel, trying desperately to stop the countdown sequence.

Four seconds to blast-off. No matter what he touches, nothing changes. If anything, time seems to be speeding up.

Three seconds to blast-off. Shit, he wasn’t going to be able to stop it. All that money. All that planning. All for naught.

Two seconds to blast-off. No backing out now. Might as well lay back and enjoy the ride.

One second to blast-off. Eyes closed, Chevas mutters a prayer and accepts his fate.

“That’s okay, honey,” she says. “It happens to everyone.”

Posted by: copygodd at August 5, 2005 10:05 AM · Permalink

She didn’t understand the purpose of numbers. Numbers made the world competitive, made the world hate each other. Five slips, and her restaurant doesn’t making the three-star rating. Five little mistakes, and her world comes tumbling down. He barely passes the five-star rating, and he stays at a five-star hotel, while she and her family of five can barely keep their shack in the ghettos. His children attend the very best schools – she tries desperately, yet fails, to keep hers away from drugs. It really, shouldn’t matter, those extra numbers under a bank account, but they made all the difference.

Posted by: orange_flips at August 5, 2005 10:20 AM · Permalink

Colorado is my team. I can’t let them loose. Before the game I have a little talk with the head referee. He tells me this job will cost me 100K.

He says, “Do you know how many refs there are for a football game? That is a lot of splitting.”

100K is chump change to the booster club so I gladly hand it over to him. He was so experienced at the way he subtly called the game in our favor, well until he gave us 5 downs to score the winning touchdown. Today was definitely worth the chump change.

Posted by: Nussmier at August 5, 2005 1:19 PM · Permalink

It's not just big cities like New York and Chicago that have superhero teams. You don't often hear about the Fearless Five, the bold protectors of Kileen, Texas. And that's a pity.

Team Leader: The Human Abacus. Powers: hypercomplex mental mathematics, precision bead-throwing.

The Rebel: Twinkletoes. Powers: seventeenth-fastest man alive. Punches like a girl, but fifty times a second.

Loyal Follower: Lobsterman. Powers: proportionate strength of a lobster, giant claws. Weakness: drawn butter.

Token Female: Blowtorch. Powers: blasts of fire hot enough to weld steel.

The Quiet One: Vector. Powers: induce the symptoms of any known disease with a touch.

Posted by: Jeff R. at August 5, 2005 1:55 PM · Permalink

She walked hurriedly towards her car and sat down on the leather seat. Turning the rearview mirror towards herself, she got out her compact and powdered over the fresh blue bruise on her eye. She backed out of the driveway and drove all the way to the interstate without looking back. Her face set with resolution, she shifted into 5th gear, overdrive, and sped away from that house, that neighborhood, that city. With tears still streaming down her cheeks, she told herself that she would never again set foot in his house.

One week later, she made the same promise.

Posted by: Laura at August 5, 2005 3:56 PM · Permalink

They always said you can count your good friends on one hand. My grand aunt Victoria told me her five best friends were a boy who chased her, another boy who was over protective about the men she would date, a girl who pulled her hair, and two girls who teased her. I asked her why these were her good friends. She told me that they were her siblings. When they grew up, they were best friends.

After that story, I decided my five siblings would be my best friends too. When we get older, we will be best friends.

Posted by: Rebecca at August 5, 2005 6:44 PM · Permalink