Word Slingers, Saturday November 28, 2020

Some Word Slingers product from this morning's session and their associated prompt.

WASP PRIME was scheduled for Wednesday morning. All the projections and final review of the modelling was signed off. Mercury was bustling with some high level visitors from the capitol. A 18-megaton underground test is nothing to sneeze at and we had our Brit counterparts looking over our shoulders.

I was looking forward to the celebratory dinner planned for Saturday at the usual casino. 

As the public affairs officer liked to comment about the naming process for the test series, "some of the lads prefer cheeses." MISTY ECHO was my first, than CANVASBACK and INGOT. DISKO ELM was my contribution. Wasn't there for FONTINA but heard it was less than a success.

Sitting down after all those months of preparation, the suspense of the detonation, and the first roll-out of the data in the immediate aftermath, it was a real relief to toast our collective efforts with a dry and bracing burgundy.

Prompt: All that, and a glass of wine

* * * * *

Jack London was a piece of steak

Rather, that was his short story

A Piece of Steak

If only he'd had a piece of steak to consume before the match

Tom could have taken the kid

But gravy and a little bread, that was his lot

Youth will be served

and the gravy will be cold and lumpy

Prompt: It was gravy

* * * * *

If you had wings, it would be the worst thing.

You're not talking feathers are you, cause there's mites you know?

I'd rather have a good snout. Take it all in, on the wind, keeping my paws on the ground.

Bird's eye view? I don't think so. Keeping track of all that space, that's why their bones are so thin and hollow. About as practical as a Brontosaur, supposedly one of their distant kin.

If you had wings, someone would, you know...

Prompt: If you had wings (Monsanto, Disneyland)

* * * * *

Has he confessed yet?

Give him another 90 minute treatment, selection 23 with binaural beats and isochronic tones.

He'd give up his own mother rather than get a second helping of that.

The enemy combatant was far from contemplating the weaponization of mindless ditties played at insidious frequencies. He was struggling for his sanity in a world claimed by the Imperial Disney.  

Prompt: It's a small world after all

Word Slingers, Saturday November 14, 2020

Some Word Slingers product from this morning's session and their associated prompt.

Stalled, if that's the right work for it. I was still revolving, still clinging to the fixtures, trying to re-orient myself to the spinning interior lit by flickering pulses of recessed light. It was the jagged orbit as projected, but I was powerless and had no option but to hang tight.

Usually I took such an "option" - what a nice characterization for an nonrefuseable choice tarted up as an "option" - to reflect on things, go over the bullet list, construct a haiku, etc., but reflecting and wondering was probably not the best way to fight a creeping nausea. 

Focus, that was the ticket. Stalled and focused. Waiting for impact, but most likely just waiting. Gradually, it always seemed to lazily follow the sudden, the spinning wound down. Was I still waiting or am I done?

Prompt: Hurry up and wait...

* * * * *

With Westarkana, that 79 States now reporting and the Decision Desk has shuttered it blinds and gone offline. Updates at 2300...

Bad math maybe, or lazy logic. Seems inconceivable that we've reached this point. Really? Yes, really: the cola has lost its fizz and the non-dairy drink has gone sour. We bought in and we sniffing the results now, and the bloodhounds at the Decision Desk are circling the stinking mess.

I like a good joke, and plot them all the time. My belief in unforeseen consequences and an indulgence in worst case scenarios and 'natural accidents', not to mention legal liability, has advised me to just enjoy the mental modeling and avoid springing the trap.

Obviously there are theorists of jokes paid in blood and not content with mere punchlines.

UPDATE: The outstanding 23 States are refusing to release their results and we're calling the contest hung. A redo is expected and a new slate of comics will be announced tomorrow.

Prompt: A Practical joke that backfired...

* * * * *

"Circumnavigation, it sounds so expansive. I've been around, it's not what it's cracked up to be" muttered the grizzled old man at the end of the bar.

"But you can see wonderful things, out there, almost over the edge, the wilderness. I go every chance I get!" Polly snapped.

"Yes, wonderful. Buy me a drink, I need to forget" he replied.

"Kevin, another Natty Ice for Gramps here and a Europa IPA for me. Thanks!"

"What do you need to forget?" Polly continued.

"And you think remembering will help me forget?"

"I'm just curious"

"You'll mess-up your pretty makeup pressing your face against the glass. Try and take a step back, close your eyes. Wake up. That's all I can tell you."

"I just want to go all the way around, see everything, capture it in my water colors, tell others." Polly was being honest but looked hurt. Gramps was a downer.

"Here's your drinks. Would you care for any meal worms or flaked food?"

"Nah, thanks Kevin" blurted out Gramps "I have to swim back to my castle"

Prompt: Like a goldfish in a bowl...

Word Slingers, Tuesday November 10, 2020

Some Word Slingers product from this afternoon's session and their associated prompt.

Cheyne was flawlessly good at ignoring directions. Or so it seemed, until now. Something shapeless and dark was brooding about in the background. Even a swift turn of the head and attention focused on the corner of her eyes did not reveal it, yet it hovered, dull and heavy in some place directly behind her and slightly above head height.

Discomforting sensations were not a stranger to Cheyne. She was a keenly aware of her options for self-medication and self-illusion. It was only when this unseen dread, still unnameable, was well into it's second week that Cheyne went looking for whatever it was that might have prompted this unshakable darkness. Had she missed some prompt, some simple instruction?

Could she just turn and face it?

Prompt: Just when he or she thought it was over...

* * * * *

Dumb struck, or I hope it was that simple. I would have shaken my head but I thought maybe it best to stare straight ahead and drop my eyes, going with a soft focus instead of having my head becoming heavy and rolling off my shoulders.

It was technically just news, information, second-hand even, but it was meant to inflect pain and I was caught unawares. 

I have options, sure enough, but what if I didn't reach for them and just stopped. How much can one withstand? It's not pain, but one can still hurt and move about, and learn. 

How reassuring to know it won't hurt a bit. 

Prompt: This won't hurt a bit

* * * * *

Rocky planet: check. Magnetic field: medium, but strong enough to be outside a few hours without shielding. Atmosphere: Not much to speak of but plenty of ice, so we can breath well enough after a bit of brewing and processing. And fuel, no worries. Starlight: damn, A Plus, a blackness to die for. 

Once we dig a bit deeper we'll know more where this rogue originated but for now we'll settle in and get comfortable. Imagine, a place with no Sun, just stars, and stars, and stars. 

Prompt: Where the sun don't shine

Bonus Reality-Check: Unattached 'rogue' planets discovered in the Milky Way