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February 21, 2007

2.21.07

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It took a minute for the room to come into focus. Not that it mattered. There was nothing familiar in his surroundings, including the foul taste in his mouth.

Water. Man, was he thirsty!

The wrapped plastic cup indicated that he was in the My-T-Fyne Inn of Springfield, which neither rang any bells nor narrowed down his location much.

It was at the sink he found the note.

Bob:

You remembered the same pickup line you used on me back in ’86, even if you forgot me.

I left your wedding ring, pants, and shoes at the front desk.

Marie

Posted by: Mr. E. at February 21, 2007 10:01 AM · Permalink

When I was young, my family would go to the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago.

Back then, there was an exhibit demonstrating bell curve distributions using back balls falling through a maze of pegs and into slotted compartments.

The balls eventually formed the bell curve shape… as if by magic.

“Not magic, you little weirdo,” growled my father. “It’s mathematics.”

I pointed at the lonely ball in the two-sigma slot: “That’s me!”

My parents were shocked, and they recoiled in horror from me.

Why?

Because I’d managed to chew through my straps and my hands were free again.

Posted by: Planet Z at February 21, 2007 10:08 AM · Permalink

Forgotten:

Sis was positively smug as she laid out the photo-albums she had discovered. “Spring cleaning is God’s way” she peeped.

These were pictures we hadn’t seen in years, not since Mom died when we were young. Sis had kept the house, I was never comfortable there.

“Here’s one of you, Gloria” my sister spouted. Quite a rarity, as I was the shy one.

“Oh.” Sis stopped short, “Here’s one of Daddy.”

My hand shook as I held it. I felt sick, like he was really there. I reached for a lighter, Sis the waste basket, and we burned them all.

Posted by: kasac at February 21, 2007 3:05 PM · Permalink