Pizza 2

I give to you the second part of a serial based on this Reddit writing prompt in eleventy-one words...

Yes, I have a plan. It involves my big mouth, lots of pizza, and not getting killed before 7am. Gino has agreed to donate the food and his ‘special’ delivery truck. I’ve mapped the route that has the least chance of running into people. And I’ll have two times as many pizzas as I need. If – or more likely, when – I get pulled over by the gangs, I’ll do a quick sell and offer slices for the road, free of charge.

Why wouldn’t they shoot me and take the truck and pizza for themselves? I’m glad you asked. Let’s just say it has to do with what makes the truck ‘special’.

Click for Pizza 1

Pizza 1

I give to you the first part of a serial based on this Reddit writing prompt in eleventy-one words...

‘This is stupid.’

‘If Gino’s gonna pay me seventy-five times my regular salary, I’m gonna try. You know my mother needs this money.’

‘Tom was the last guy who tried it, and he died. It ain’t worth it. We’ll get the money another way.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know. A raffle or a bake sale or something.’

‘A raffle? Really? Look, I’ve already committed. And Gino has told ten clients that I’m coming. That’s eight grand before tips.’

‘Delivering pizza on Purge Night is suicide! The only people ordering tonight are rich sadists who enjoy seeing you try not to die.’

‘I don’t care. I’m doing it. And I have a plan.’


Click for Pizza 2

Predictions

I give to you a story in eleventy-one words (using the Reddit prompt, 'The bad guys won and the world was conquered by the villain's armies decades ago. You and your spouse are worried as you suspect your child may be suffering from Chosen Oneness or perhaps an acute case of Prophetic Heroism.)...

‘How could you let him go to the rally?’

‘Let him? He’s a man; he does what he wants.’

‘A man? He’s sixteen, a boy.’

‘When the government set age limits for our kind, boys became men.’

‘They’ll kill him!’

‘Maybe. But the predictions…’

‘Don’t!’

‘People flock to him. They follow him. They safeguard him. He is theirs as much as he is ours.’

‘No! He is mine! My boy!’

‘What do you propose? Restrain him? He won’t listen.’

She bowed her head.

‘I’m scared too; I want to protect him. Yet, something tells me he’s meant to protect us.’ He paused. ‘I believe in him. And I will follow him.' 

Divine

I give to you a true story in eleventy-one words...

I lingered in the plaza as rain cleansed the darkness. There, a medieval edifice – Barcelona’s Gothic Cathedral – loomed with its faithful gargoyles and cross-topped towers.

I moved forward, toward the massive doors. It rained fiercely, challenging the efficacy of the black umbrella I clutched.

I took another step. And lightning arced across the pitch.

I tried a final step. And thunder blossomed with frightening omnipotence.

I stopped, then, and eyed the shrine as the heavens poured forth a deluge.

Though a celestial flood threatened to immerse me in its violent waters, still I stood upon the stones. For in that moment, I knew nothing but communion with the divine.

Mirrors

I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...

‘My son refuses to leave his room.’

‘Why?’

‘Something about mirrors.’

‘What about them?’

‘I have no idea. What I know is he keeps destroying them. I would’ve taken him to you but I was afraid he’d smash the car’s mirrors too.’

‘Does he have a history of mental illness?’

‘No, doctor. I’ve never seen him like this.’

‘How old is he?’

‘Twenty-three.’

‘Your address?’

‘Seventeen Oak Street.’

‘I’ll be right there.’

He hung up, turned to his partner. ‘We have another one.’

‘How much does he know?’

‘Everything, I think.’

‘Has he talked?’

‘He’s hinted about it in texts to a few people.’

‘Okay,’ he sighed, ‘Let’s go get him.’

Cups

I give to you a story in eleventy-one words…

‘We’re gonna need to repurpose the cup room.’

‘But…’

‘You know we don’t have enough space. People keep finding priceless treasures, and we can no longer store everything. All museums are having the same problem.’

‘If there’s a possibility it’s in there, we need to keep all of them.’

‘How do you propose proving that one of them is the one?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Exactly. Look, we have room for a boxful.’

‘No! We can’t do this. We may be throwing away one of the most treasured artifacts of all time.’

He smiled wistfully. ‘The power is not in the object itself but in the legends that surround it. Choose wisely…’ 

Grappling

I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...

They understood each other in that moment, their grappling arms gridlocked atop a flimsy table.

Jacob, the ambitious graduate, long-limbed and gladiatorial.

Bob, the inadequate leader, too young to retire and too old to learn new tricks.

After imbibing at the annual holiday gathering, a contingent of determined drinkers sought additional beverages at a local tavern. It wasn’t long before the multitude engaged in the time-honored tradition of arm wrestling.

After the weak had faltered, there remained but an old manager and his disrespectful direct.

There they handily tussled, neither able to best the other, until after an expansive five minutes Jacob gradually forced Bob’s hand asunder.

But everything had changed. 

Lions

I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...

No matter where he was, they always got in. Always...

The lions hadn't seen him yet, but once they had they would attack.

Sitting quietly never worked, and he wasn't quick enough to escape.

He could yell for his foster family, but it was the middle of the night.

Just then a knock came. The lions froze. 'Everything okay?' his foster mother asked. They stalked toward the door. In a moment of courage - for fear they would attack - he yelled, 'No!'

At that she opened the door and chased after the felines until he told her they had fled. Then she hugged him and sat with him until he fell asleep.

Whisper

I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...

Leaning on a red mahogany walking stick, he stood crookedly atop the grassy pinnacle, surveying the almost unidentifiable remains of the fallen holy edifice. Faded memories emerged momentarily like rays of sunshine amidst a hurricane’s eye. The church seemed a relic, the result of a targeted bombardment in some distant war. It could be said that the building had been blown to bits by indifference, his included. But he didn’t feel regret, exactly, but rather a longing for a time when he didn’t have to try so hard to find meaning.

He walked to what had been the altar and, with effort, sat upon the ground listening for a soft whisper.

Continuum

I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...

Wrapped in an expansive, though inadequate, crocheted navy scarf and a pea coat with its anchor-inscribed buttons, I both watch his fingers play across the ivories and listen to his mantic melodies, muted by branches of the stark, leafless northern red oak.

I remember when we sat here, our knees touching as the summer sun set. Only now do I understand that neither we together nor each of us individually were broken. Funny how points in time taken discretely seem disjointed, as if the chronology is all wrong, but how those same points in time strung along a continuum somehow make sense.

I rise, tip the pianist, and walk home alone.

Second Amendment

I give to you a reflection in two times eleventy-one words...

A well-regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.

Why did The Founding Fathers include the second amendment? To protect self-government. To give the United States of America, one of the boldest experiments in the history of the world, a chance to exist in a world that decried its very existence. And endure, the United States did, partially because of those arms. They served their purpose from the country’s revolution to its civil war.

The world has changed. First, technology has rendered the second amendment obsolete; the United States government has little trouble quelling its citizens’ armed efforts with superior weaponry. Second, and more importantly, self-government has become a habit in the United States, even if it remains undervalued by many of its citizens.

For these reasons, arms in the hands of the people no longer secure liberty; they merely escalate tensions, provoking violence and anger and fear.

We must now embrace alternate methods, those employed by Mandela and Gandhi and Menchú and King. We must meet violence with peace, anger with joy, fear with love. We must move to eradicate arms in the hands of the people, lest they aid in the destruction of the very ideal the second amendment was meant to protect.

Hat

I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...

‘I open neither my heart nor mind without donning my tri-cornered hat.

‘I initially wore it to team meetings; it proved unexpectedly empowering, enabling me – the consummate introvert – to lead them expertly. I subsequently wore it to every meeting, each an unmitigated success.

‘It seems, however, such millinery is inappropriate for client onsites. The clients didn’t seem to mind, but my boss told me to remove it. He fired me on the spot when I refrained.

The parents eyed him as the boat docked.

‘Quite the journey! Speaking of which, I hope you’ve enjoyed yours on the Pirates of Caribbean ride!’ He tipped his tri-cornered hat to the rapidly fleeing families. 

Suspicious

I give to you the latest snippet in the Reincarnated (click the link for previous entries) story in eleventy-one words...

Charlotte demurred. ‘I punched him back.’

‘Ok?’

‘I caught him off guard; he actually started crying.’

Olivia pursed her lips.

‘What?’

‘You felt sorry for him.’

‘Well, yeah.’

‘You comforted him.’

Charlotte shrugged.

‘Alright, so how can he help?’ she asked, exasperated.

‘He knows how to find people’s families.’

‘Has he helped you?’

‘No, but I don’t remember much.’

‘Has he found his family?’

‘No.’

‘Oh my God, Charlotte.’

‘What?’

‘He’s playing you.’

‘He can help you.’

Olivia paused. ‘Why me?’

‘He knows about your two sons.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know. You should talk to him.’

‘Yeah…’ she responded suspiciously.

They shared an uneasy silence.

‘Ok,’ Olivia responded, ‘when and where?’