A Priest Hearing a Unique Confession [138]

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

"Go on, my child. What sins have you committed?"

"I accidentally flashed a Chinese family while walking in the park."

"Oh, I see. Well, the human body is a gift from God, so it's not a sin to be naked. That said, no one wants to see a naked body without notice. Say one Hail Mary."

"Yes Father. I also beat a lobster to death by brute force."

Escaping a Natural Disaster [140]

The first sign I noticed was a flicker of the lights in the local history museum I was in. A moment later they'd gone out and my pocket felt strangely hot. A dozen or so of us came to the same realization and our cell phones were soon on the ground with small lithium-fueled fires lighting up the place. A few of the women weren't so lucky - their purses were on fire along with the phones inside them.

I wish I'd been a bit more aware and had tried to put the fires out, but I panicked and rushed outside. At first I was struck by the chaos - people were rushing about and yelling all sorts of things - but after a second I noticed only people were moving. Every car was stopped, building air conditioners had ceased to hum, and every light I could see was out. A solar flare had hit and I had been in the blast zone.

A Lucky Break [07]

In the dumpster behind Pravda Beer Bar, illuminated by a single overhead light, a raccoon foraged for a quick meal. It near about jumped out of its skin when it was assaulted by a great metal-on-metal clang.

"Scram!" the man with the shovel yelled as the raccoon was already jetting across the parking lot. He muttered a bit to himself about pests and how lazy the other workers were as he heaved a few bags in the bin. He performed the act his predecessor had failed to do. The flip of the lid as he closed the dumpster generated just enough of a wind to push a small scrap of paper out into the light.

The man bent down and picked it up. The writing looked Russian to him, but one bit was certainly decipherable: a time and a dollar figure of five zeros following a one. He took it into the bar.

A New Take on the Arthurian Legend [59]

"Come, comrades, it is time for us to do battle," Arthur, King of All he Surveyed, looked at the lumps of men and scattered beer cans on his living room couches.

"To Avalon?" hiccuped Lance.

"To Avalon!" Arthur proclaimed. This was met with groans. The groans were met with prodding kicks and small pushes as the King mustered his men.

Eventually the four of them piled into the more-rust-than-car 1977 Caddy Deville ("with electronic fuel injection and quartz digital clock") and began the great journey across town to Avalon Lanes. It took twenty minutes, as the main road had a DUI checkpoint, but they made it nonetheless.

A Deal with the Devil [137]

Bill had spent the better part of the past 48 hours driving on emptier and emptier highways until he got to the sandy ruts that signaled the penultimate part of his journey. Another hour of bends and bumps was the icing on the cake of the exhausting journey. Finally, however, he came to a cabin with one lit torch burning outside. Bill parked, approached, and paused.

On the left side of the door frame there was an unlit torch. Above the frame; a rune of some ill-portent. Bill knew his part, but we've all gotten cold feet before. He took several deep breaths to steel himself before lighting the torch and stepping into the cabin.

This Space Intentionally Left Blank

It's a new keyboard! Mechanical. Makes lots of noise but not as much as them MX blues do, man. So naturally what's the first step? Gotta ramble on Simon's blog. Just a stream of consciousness. Just typing away.

Know what? My eyes aren't even open right now. Just loving this fucking keyboard. MMMMMMm yeah.

Will I ever stop?

Yo - I don't know.

Turn out the lights -

Keyboard glows!

And only at the end of this ramble do I remember how much the editing tools on Blogger suck major donkey balls. But typing out that thought feels a shit ton nicer on this clicky keyboard!

Final thoughts: the world needs to see Simon dressed up as a combination Fidel Castro and Prince Vultan. That would be rad.

I'll type out the screenplay on this badass keyboard right here.

Seriously, it's very Zen-like just typing away and hearing them clicky keys. I dig it.

Mash Up Two Classic Fairy Tales into One Story [61]

"What do you mean I have to kiss you?" the little girl asked of the frog she held in her hand. The frog, for its part, stared blankly ahead.

"Well, if you insist!" the girl puckered up and gave the frog the tiniest peck. A moment passed and nothing happened. The girl placed the frog on the ground and it hopped into the underbrush, certainly as confused as a frog can be.

The girl left as well, going to find her favorite spot - a little stump in a small grove where she could stoke her imagination. Normally it was her castle or tower or (on one occasion) a giant mushroom complete with talking caterpillar. This time, however, it was her place to mourn.

A Writer with Noisy Neighbors [74]

I stared at the blank page in front of me. After four hours of torture, I knew I was chasing the horizon - I'd make no progress as long as that no good jackass across the street kept screaming like he'd stuck a cactus up his ass. To be fair (not that I want to be) it wasn't him screaming per se - it was his patients. The nut was a dentist who liked to drill a little too deep or go a little too light on the Novocaine. The only time his clinic wasn't an explosion of screams - and therefore the only time I could consistently write - was on Saturdays. Saturdays were reserved for the clients that kept him in business.

My pen met paper for two words in a row before another screech erupted from the place, breaking my concentration and sending my pen skittering across the page. It was the random timing that was the worst part - anyone can ignore regular phenomena, but the bursts of noise at unknown intervals was torture, plain and simple.

The Night Before Graduation [55]

The heat was obscene for this time of year. Pam and Miles lay on their mattress, fingertips the only skin they had in contact. Both were awake, naked, and hoping the sounds of spring peepers might induce sleep. They'd done all they could - sheets were on the floor and the fan was on high - but the heat and the anxiety were a bit too much for either.

"Big day tomorrow," Miles couldn't help himself.

"I know," Pam replied plainly.

"Will I have to call you Doctor Sweetheart?" Had either been keeping track, this made the hundredth time Miles had made this joke.

"Whatever you want, as long as you pay off my loans." Reply number seventy one. Sure the repetition bothered Pam, but she knew that, truthfully, it spoke to Mile's consistency. The man she married was a stone wall like that of Hadrian - if the human body allowed it, he'd be standing for centuries.

Something Valuable Has Been Stolen [124]

(To push myself to write a bit more, I'm doing Camp NaNoWriMo for the month of July.)

The Huntress awoke to the sound of her door clacking against its frame. Thoughts splashed into her mind like a bucket of thrown water; did I lock the door? is someone here? is someone trying to kill me? The darkness provided no answers.

After a minute of careful listening, the Huntress lit up the oil lamp she kept near her bed. Everything in her room was in its place. The antlered elk-head trophy's eyes reflected the light from the small lamp. So too did the polished rifle leaning against the wall she had used to claim the elk's life. She slid out of bed and chose to take the light instead of the rifle as she entered the main room of the cabin.