JeffR Archives

September 28, 2007

Jeff R.:The Price of a Weapon

It had been a long time since anyone called her Teardrop. On the streets, everything gets shortened, truncated, cut off.

Tear sold her body for cash. She kept off the drugs, away from the pimps. But
sometimes the beasts came after her. She ran, but sometimes they caught up.

Tired of the beatings, she went to a street doc. It turns out she had something other than sex left to sell; a good, transplant-ready eyeball fetched a bundle.

She spent it putting a laser cannon in the empty left socket. A few melted faces later, she had an effective deterrent.

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October 12, 2007

Jeff R.:Grounds for Suspicion

It was extremely distressing. I unlocked the front door and walked into the store and discovered four dead barristas, their bodies sprawled in various positions across the floor.

I have to say I panicked, took out my phone and tried to dial the police. No signal. I felt blood rushing, and had to sit down to keep from fainting. The smell of overpriced coffee and stale blood filled the air. I tried to keep from retching. I rushed for the bathroom, but didn't make it before the vomit spewed forth from my mouth.

There had been five when I left.

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October 16, 2007

Jeff R.: After the Trial

It was the witching hour, and it was guilty as hell.

The jury barely bothered to deliberate, and the judge read down the sentence with relish. That left things to the executioner, who was, for once, at a loss.

He'd carried out death sentences on people before: beheadings, hangings, electrocutions, injections. He'd put down mad dogs and killer horses and rogue elephants. No ordinary executioner, he'd carried out final sentences on ideas and trends, like Disco and men's hats, the Edsel and phlogiston and communnism. But how could he execute a span of time?

The clocks began to chime thirteen.

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November 1, 2007

Jeff R.:Infernal Designs

Urik usually did the month's shopping on Lanta's day, so he was unsettled when his mother handed him a bag of coin and told him to perform the errand.

"Are you sure? Today is Nidos's day, and we have more than enough for the ten days until Lanta's."

Nomi frowned. "I may be ill, but my mind is still fine." She pointed at the bag. "There is a bit less than most months, so skip the preserves if you must, but try to get all of the rest." Urik started to speak again, but she gestured dismissively and he knew

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December 6, 2007

Jeff R.: Another Great Debate

"My grandma had that."

"What?"

"You know, the prevaricate veins. Her legs were, like, completely blue."

"I don't think that's right."

"Oh wait, I remember. It's from English class, isn't it? The parts of a sentence are the subject, the denominator, and the prevaricate."

"No, I think it's some new drug, you know, with a big list of possible side effects like bleeding out the eyes and sudden death."

"So what's it for?"

"I don't know. Constipation, maybe. Or possibly cramps."

"Oh. Either way, I should get some for Sue. You're sure that's what it is?"

"Hey, would I lie?"

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December 11, 2007

Jeff R.: Recieved Wisdom

"Never trust anyone who uses the word 'Whom'."

That was the second most profound things my father told me, right next to "Don't believe a red-haired stripper who tells you she's only doing it to put herself through college." He was a wise man.

He died four years back, during the earthquake. Freakish thing. A bottle of champagne fell off a shelf and the cork shot right down his gullet.

That's how I knew Miss Josham wasn't what she said. Well, that and the tattoo. Don't trust anyone with tentacles in their cleavage, either.

But I can always trust dad.

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February 1, 2008

Jeff R.: The Meeting Place

There is a table, sitting in a dry gulch in Mojave Desert. The four legs are petrified wood, the table a round, flat piece of black volcanic rock. There are eighteen chips in the stone, each telling the tale of a careless, dramatic gesture made with mug in hand.

Once, about every fifty years, a freak storm sends enough water to fill the creek-bed to a couple inches depth. That is when they meet, and decide important things, like earthquakes and snowfalls and who will find their one true love.

They have been meeting since the first lie was told.

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February 12, 2008

Jeff R.: Poly

John loved Sue, but Sue dug Pete,
While Pete obsessed on Claire:
Triangles weren't near enough;
They fashioned a love square.

With rampant sublimated lust
And longing in their scene,
They concentrated on their jobs,
Building a time machine.

Into the future they voyaged
And found that things had changed:
Now Sue liked John, but he'd moved on
The order re-arranged.

Some with their past, or future selves
Or friends became delighted.
Still never was a couple formed
Where both sides were requited.

With all this temporalic strain,
The timeline became cracked,
And alternate dimensions formed
The first love tessaract.

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February 13, 2008

Jeff R.: Mixed Signals

We were like two ships, passing in the night. Wait, no: we were on two ships, passing in the night. Neither of us had radios, but we both had signal flags.

I asked if she came here often. She asked if I said that to all the girls. I said only the pretty ones. She laughed, then realized I couldn't hear her, and so signaled "ha ha" over and over again.

Then I sneezed and tripped over a stray cannonball, and by the time I got up I'd said something hideously rude about her mother. I never saw her again.

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March 14, 2008

Jeff R.:Musical Questions

"What do they mean, 'If there's no one besides you'?"

"What?"

"You know, in the Death Cab song. Is he saying that if he happens to be having an affair when his girl bites it, he's going to stick around?"

"I don't think so-"

"Or is it that this suicide pact thing only applies if all of their parents and kids and siblings are dead by then also? Because it doesn't really mean much at that point, does it?"

"I don't know."

"Okay, then, tell me this: why can't someone be a pimp and a prostitute, too?"

"Union rules."

"Oh."

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