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November 16, 2007

Friday

The phone call.

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Jim: Thems The Breaks

Bad-Luck Bobby they called him, though his real name was Robert Townes. And there was never a man whom the Fates hated more than Robert.

Robert was the boy who always ended up holding the bat when a window was broken. Later in life, he was often beaten up for making passes at other men’s women; women he’d never seen.

Robert’s short life came to a tragic end one cold February night; executed by the state at midnight for a murder Robert did not commit.

The apologetic governor called at 12:02 because he couldn’t get cell phone coverage until then.

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David: Seriously, Just Spit It Out

“I have some bad news,” she said, and paused.

I filled the space with thought. Dad was dead. My brother was dead. My brother was in jail. The dog had cancer. The cat had been eaten by pygmies. The house had burned down, leaving only the phone. The car had been stolen by drug mules and then returned full of drugs so now everything they owned was impounded. Grandma had become a Scientologist and willed everything to Elron. One after another, the tragedies paraded through her conversational lull.

“I need some money to fix the air conditioner.”

“Oh, thank God.”

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From The Comments: shinjukri

Sleeper

The double shift at Diablo Canyon had drained him.
He barely remembered who he was when hitting the pillows.

Then the phone rang.

``Huh? Who's...?''

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Remember, Dimitri?
...miles to go before I sleep.

``Dude, wrong number. No `Dimitri' here.
Speaking of `sleep'... If you don't mind?''

Oh jeez, terribly sorry, wrong page...

Ahem. Inky dinky spider crawled up the water spout...

After many years, Lt. Dimitri Sergeiovich Prekovic
finally remembered who he was.

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