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Thursday, July 13, 2023
Toad and Salamander by MW
toad: why are you so slimy?
Salamander: I don’t know. Why are you so bumpy and rough?
Toad: I was just born that way.
Salamander: exactly and I was born slimy.
Toad: ok well what type of Salamander are you?
Salamander: what type of toad are you?
Toad: a natterjack toad. And you still haven't told me what type of Salamander you are.
Salamander: I never said I was going to tell you.
Toad: so I told you what type of toad I am for nothing?
Salamander: yeah pretty much.
Toad: so you tricked me?
Salamander: yep.
Toad: I was so dumb to think that you were going to tell me.
Salamander: yes you were. Do you know what it means to call someone slimy?
Toad: no.
Salamander: of course you don’t. Calling someone slimy basically means that they are a trickster.
Toad: oh. Well in that case you are slimy.
Salamander: slimy as in texture or slimy as in sneaky?
Toad: Does it really matter your kind of both. Oh sorry did I say kind of I meant to say you ARE both.
Salamander: >:-)
Toad: what does that mean?!? Salamander, SALAMANDER?!?
Salamander: you're about to find out, and when you do your last words will be…
Toad: w-w-what will my last words be.
Toad: ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Salamander: I don’t know. Why are you so bumpy and rough?
Toad: I was just born that way.
Salamander: exactly and I was born slimy.
Toad: ok well what type of Salamander are you?
Salamander: what type of toad are you?
Toad: a natterjack toad. And you still haven't told me what type of Salamander you are.
Salamander: I never said I was going to tell you.
Toad: so I told you what type of toad I am for nothing?
Salamander: yeah pretty much.
Toad: so you tricked me?
Salamander: yep.
Toad: I was so dumb to think that you were going to tell me.
Salamander: yes you were. Do you know what it means to call someone slimy?
Toad: no.
Salamander: of course you don’t. Calling someone slimy basically means that they are a trickster.
Toad: oh. Well in that case you are slimy.
Salamander: slimy as in texture or slimy as in sneaky?
Toad: Does it really matter your kind of both. Oh sorry did I say kind of I meant to say you ARE both.
Salamander: >:-)
Toad: what does that mean?!? Salamander, SALAMANDER?!?
Salamander: you're about to find out, and when you do your last words will be…
Toad: w-w-what will my last words be.
Toad: ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
FLASH FICTION CONTEST#2
STAGE ONE: UNDERGROUND
From files under the label of worldwidefiles.intel.underground.classified-
The Underground: A worldwide group of trained telepathic assassins, with bases in the USA, Russia, China, and Brazil. Masters of the streets and very dangerous. Avoid at all costs. Right now, as you read this, the Underground are deciding who to kill next.
Precisely 200 cloaked figures enter the chamber. They sit in a perfect circle, completely silent and still, connecting their minds so that everyone’s thoughts are intertwined. If they didn’t do this, the noise would surely alert the civilians above on the street - 200 people speaking could be heard through a layer of concrete. Then one of them speaks in a rough voice.
“The Alchemist.”
THE ALCHEMIST IS AN OUTLANDISH MAGICAL SORCERER, the Underground’s minds scream, amplified by each other's' mind-voices. The noise almost overwhelms the leader’s mind. This verdict is what they had been trained to believe, through dreams and messages from the government - they were simply channels for this information. The leader considers their thoughts, listening to every mind carefully and precisely. They nod.
“The Butcher.”
There is no clear decision in the Underground’s minds, only disorganized mumbling and muttering. The leader listens to each one, then exhales.
They broadcast to the Underground’s minds: The Alchemist. At that moment, it is decided - their next victim will be the Alchemist.
He’ll be dead within a day.
STAGE TWO: DUTY
They report back to the Underground leader: It is done. The leader grunts in respect. Yes, they reply. The Alchemist is dead, and his death will have an effect on this community.
STAGE THREE: WITHER
Somewhere there is a family who only survives because of the Alchemist. Now the Underground has ripped their family from its roots and tossed it to the seas. They struggle to survive over the next few weeks, each day growing paler and weaker - on the edge of death. Without the lifesaving magical cure, they begin to wither and die.
Each member of the family has to leave a loved one: The daughter is forced to say goodbye to her lover, the parents forced to bid farewell to the prospect of this family continuing. Once they come to peace with the fact that they will die, there is nothing left to live for.
STAGE FOUR: SORROW
STAGE FIVE: CIRCLE
The other thing she knew was the importance of a better-managed Underground, where deaths were not simply arranged, but planned-out months in advance. She decided that she would become the next leader of the Underground.
STAGE SIX: OVERTAKING
The girl joined the Underground and quickly rose through the ranks until she was ready to challenge the current leader. To become the leader of the Underground, you had to kill the current leader with nothing but your bare hands. She did this dutifully and immediately renamed the Underground to the Aboveground.
She gave the members of the Underground an ultimatum, threatening to imprison them if they disagreed with her proposition of joining her in bettering the world. Some escaped, but most either joined the Aboveground or were put behind bars.
She also funded schools, orphanages, and other public services that had been in decline or even disappeared when the Underground took over. She taxed the citizens and hosted fundraisers. She fully devoted her life to bettering the world through the vast powers of the Aboveground. Even though almost eighty percent of the country was still battered and flea-ridden with gangs, the Aboveground’s base was mostly free of those groups. She would have to keep fighting, but if she did, she was sure that the Aboveground would prevail.
FIVE YEARS LATER
You may be wondering who this girl is. Her name has long since been lost to the winds, slipping into the endless river of time and never resurfacing. But, even 2,000 years after the founding of the Aboveground, in 7084, we remember the effect that the line of Aboveground leaders had on this world.
Brains by nc
Its small about a fist its
Slimy its weird but if you're reading this
You have one to it helps you learn you have brain cells
When someone says you don't have a brain then
Say well then how am i alive
You need it to survive you can keep information
You can remember your name with it
You may not be able to eat with it
But it will see your food
Your never stupid you just haven't learned it
But don't get you will always have a
brain
Slimy its weird but if you're reading this
You have one to it helps you learn you have brain cells
When someone says you don't have a brain then
Say well then how am i alive
You need it to survive you can keep information
You can remember your name with it
You may not be able to eat with it
But it will see your food
Your never stupid you just haven't learned it
But don't get you will always have a
brain
The skate park by nc
It's quiet its fun its a skate park hills and ramps crash and click you hear the boards slam against the ground when it's wet you can boogie board or you can slide do what's on your mind it safe sometimes just be careful friends or friend it's always fun to skate you can play a game of sk8 you flip your board it lands on its side rock upside down paper right side up scissors you do it with your friends its fun big skateparks and little skate parks you choose bowl or ramp or rail and you can try a loop try to be safe it's a dangerous hobby so skate at a skatepark
FLASH FICTION CONTEST #1
“Hey, Aria, check it out.” Greg oohed at the photos of piles of money. There was a swimming pool of money, and the kids swimming in it looked like they were in heaven. “The competition begins today in, like, a few hours.”
“Is it open to latecomers?” Aria questioned, unsure.
“Sure, sure.” Greg said dismissively. “C’mon, let’s get ready. We should go over some of the rules or whatever. You like that type of stuff, right?”
“I just do it because YOU DON’T, Greg!” Aria turned over to her computer. “Now start getting ready. We need to study.”
“Can I borrow your computer?”
“No.” Aria huffed.
Three hours later, Aria and Greg arrived at the building. It just looked like a house. “Are you sure this is a good idea? It looks…unprofessional.”
“Sure. C’mon, let’s ring the doorbell!” Greg cheered, happily bouncing up to the front door. Aria followed, wary. Greg’s ideas usually got her in a lot of trouble, whether it was worth it or not. He just sort of brought her along. A little brother couldn’t do these things alone, could he?
“Hello there!” A young man said, smiling. “Are you here for the competition?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, come in, our contestants are waiting.”
There it was--five shopping carts full of money, lined up in a neat row. There were three other kids, one looking excited and the others looking like the competitors in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, smug and stupid.
“Three, two, one, and…we’re rolling! Look alive, everyone! Hello, I’m MrYeast, and today the last person to leave their shopping cart full of money wins $100,000! Contestants, enter your shopping carts.”
Everyone did as they were told. It was a little cramped, but overall it was okay. Aria could tell the bills were fake (obviously), too stiff and thick to be real. She started building intricate walls to shut herself off from the other noisy contestants. The Not-Money worked well.
Meanwhile, Greg and the other contestants were messing around and chatting with the hosts. Aria scoffed condescendingly and continued to make a masterpiece. The walls were perfectly symmetrical and sort of soundproof, the more she added to it. They consisted of arches and towers like a medieval masterpiece.
“So, you guys, what would you like to do if you win the money?”
Several tragic stories spewed out from the other three contestants. Aria heard cars and luxury couches and apparently Greg wanted 3 Yboxes. He had never said anything about that to Aria, but fake tears spilled out of his face as he told MrYeast how much he wanted those Yboxes. Something about “childhood dreams,” but he was still a child.
“And there was Aria, right? Aria, you in there?” MrYeast knocked on the half-built Money Wall. It stayed put. Aria grunted. “Let me work.”
“Okay, okay.”
It was awkwardly quiet for a long, long time.
A loud BANG made everyone look up. MrYeast dropped the plates of steamed potatoes he was going to serve. Aria couldn’t see anything (the Money Wall was blocking her view), but there were shouts from other contestants about how they were all going to die.
“HANDS UP! THIS IS A ROBBERY!” An unfamiliar voice yelled.
Silence, and then MrYeast scoffed, “the money isn’t here. It’s in my bank account, under MrYeast, password 25--”
“Then why is there money right here?” Aria could tell the robber was gesturing to the fake money.
“Fake. Now, be on your way, sir.” MrYeast said politely.
The robber didn’t budge. His evil aura stayed in the air. There was more uncomfortable silence. It seemed like everything had just…stopped. Everyone was still.
Then, without thinking, MrYeast launched Aria’s shopping cart at him. It seemed he forgot there was a person inside. Greg screamed, Aria screamed, the robber screamed.
The Money Wall didn’t budge when it hit the robber. He let out an OOMF and collapsed to the ground. Aria carefully pulled a bill from the wall so the whole thing fell to the ground, and she checked out the damage. He was unconscious.
“Welp, since your parents will probably sue me if they know I shoved you in a shopping cart towards a robber armed with a crowbar, you win $100,000! Just--keep quiet, okay?”
Greg cheered wildly, but Aria was just stunned. She was already splitting the money up in her head--donation, college--until she realized that Greg wanted three Yboxes. It was her money, though. So Greg wouldn’t get three Yboxes.
He would just get two.
“Is it open to latecomers?” Aria questioned, unsure.
“Sure, sure.” Greg said dismissively. “C’mon, let’s get ready. We should go over some of the rules or whatever. You like that type of stuff, right?”
“I just do it because YOU DON’T, Greg!” Aria turned over to her computer. “Now start getting ready. We need to study.”
“Can I borrow your computer?”
“No.” Aria huffed.
Three hours later, Aria and Greg arrived at the building. It just looked like a house. “Are you sure this is a good idea? It looks…unprofessional.”
“Sure. C’mon, let’s ring the doorbell!” Greg cheered, happily bouncing up to the front door. Aria followed, wary. Greg’s ideas usually got her in a lot of trouble, whether it was worth it or not. He just sort of brought her along. A little brother couldn’t do these things alone, could he?
“Hello there!” A young man said, smiling. “Are you here for the competition?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, come in, our contestants are waiting.”
There it was--five shopping carts full of money, lined up in a neat row. There were three other kids, one looking excited and the others looking like the competitors in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, smug and stupid.
“Three, two, one, and…we’re rolling! Look alive, everyone! Hello, I’m MrYeast, and today the last person to leave their shopping cart full of money wins $100,000! Contestants, enter your shopping carts.”
Everyone did as they were told. It was a little cramped, but overall it was okay. Aria could tell the bills were fake (obviously), too stiff and thick to be real. She started building intricate walls to shut herself off from the other noisy contestants. The Not-Money worked well.
Meanwhile, Greg and the other contestants were messing around and chatting with the hosts. Aria scoffed condescendingly and continued to make a masterpiece. The walls were perfectly symmetrical and sort of soundproof, the more she added to it. They consisted of arches and towers like a medieval masterpiece.
“So, you guys, what would you like to do if you win the money?”
Several tragic stories spewed out from the other three contestants. Aria heard cars and luxury couches and apparently Greg wanted 3 Yboxes. He had never said anything about that to Aria, but fake tears spilled out of his face as he told MrYeast how much he wanted those Yboxes. Something about “childhood dreams,” but he was still a child.
“And there was Aria, right? Aria, you in there?” MrYeast knocked on the half-built Money Wall. It stayed put. Aria grunted. “Let me work.”
“Okay, okay.”
It was awkwardly quiet for a long, long time.
A loud BANG made everyone look up. MrYeast dropped the plates of steamed potatoes he was going to serve. Aria couldn’t see anything (the Money Wall was blocking her view), but there were shouts from other contestants about how they were all going to die.
“HANDS UP! THIS IS A ROBBERY!” An unfamiliar voice yelled.
Silence, and then MrYeast scoffed, “the money isn’t here. It’s in my bank account, under MrYeast, password 25--”
“Then why is there money right here?” Aria could tell the robber was gesturing to the fake money.
“Fake. Now, be on your way, sir.” MrYeast said politely.
The robber didn’t budge. His evil aura stayed in the air. There was more uncomfortable silence. It seemed like everything had just…stopped. Everyone was still.
Then, without thinking, MrYeast launched Aria’s shopping cart at him. It seemed he forgot there was a person inside. Greg screamed, Aria screamed, the robber screamed.
The Money Wall didn’t budge when it hit the robber. He let out an OOMF and collapsed to the ground. Aria carefully pulled a bill from the wall so the whole thing fell to the ground, and she checked out the damage. He was unconscious.
“Welp, since your parents will probably sue me if they know I shoved you in a shopping cart towards a robber armed with a crowbar, you win $100,000! Just--keep quiet, okay?”
Greg cheered wildly, but Aria was just stunned. She was already splitting the money up in her head--donation, college--until she realized that Greg wanted three Yboxes. It was her money, though. So Greg wouldn’t get three Yboxes.
He would just get two.
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