Friday, March 30, 2007

The Daily Dime: Kevin and Thumbs

This was close, but not close enough. Dag! At any rate, this is my favorite of the stories so far. This one's supposed to be sort of an homage. Tell me what you think (all 2 of you sometime posters you).


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Kevin rode in silence, his car filled with icons of childhood. He was taking them with though he had left them long ago. The back seat and truck were filled with action figures, cars, trucks, video games, and animals.

The front seat was reserved for one special stuffed animal. A stuffed lion, whose stitching was coming undone, whose fur was faded, whose hair was matted in some spots, and balding in others. A stuffed lion that had been a loyal friend and servant.

Kevin looked down at the lion, and remembered.


Your left eye is falling out. It's from that time that I was “in space,” and we were chased by monsters. You remember that Thumbs? How about that stain on your left paw? That time we got into mom's medicine cabinet and tried to disguise ourselves as Indians. Holy crap did we get in trouble. Mom was so pissed? And then she started laughing. I think that scared me more than if she'd laughed at me.


“We had some good times.”

“We sure did,” shot back Kevin. Then Kevin froze. “What did you say?” I can't be hearing this. Kevin looked down at Thumbs, the little stuffed lion. The lion sat motionless. Kevin pulled off to the side of the road and pulled a coke out of his backpack in the back seat. He popped it and stared at the lion. The shifting in the car from getting off of the interstate had caused the lion to shift in its position, and appeared as if it had adjusted itself to look at Kevin. Kevin sipped and stared.

He finished his coke and chucked it into the back seat, and was preparing to start his car.

“What about that time you threw a water balloon at the kindergarten teacher even though I said you shouldn't?” spoke a long dormant voice.

“Yeah, but you gotta admit, that was hysterical, spankings aside.” Part of Kevin was too ready to indulge the talking animal. Part of him knew that talking animals was a thing of the past, something he hadn't indulged since 6th grade, nearly 10 years earlier.

“I don't want to be rude, Thumbs, but why are you speaking again after being silent for so long? I've missed you.” The little lion shrugged his little shoulders, and perched his head in hand, thinking.

“As a kid, you were receptive to my message, right?” Kevin sat, uncomfortable with what he was hearing and seeing.

“Kevin, listen, I understand that this must be hard to hear, but my sudden break of silence is not warranted. Things are happening, important things. All those things we did? They weren't just games. It was training. I was trying to teach you things. It was all just in case, but there were hundreds of us, in lions, Tigers, bears, pelicans, birds, penguins, elephants, any type of stuffed animal you can imagine acting as a trainer for kids isolated for whatever reason. Perhaps, if nothing else, for their receptiveness.”

“No, no, this has got to be stress. I cannot be seeing this! I'm supposed to be going to law school! I'm not a spaceman, a dinosaur, a pirate, an Indian or anything other than a lawyer, that's what I'm supposed to be!” Kevin was gripping the air in frustration, shouting at the steering wheel. Thumbs got up from his spot and shambled over to Kevin and placed his ragged paw on his arm.

“Kev, this is hard to hear, I know. You thought it was games and pretend, and it was supposed to be. Things are changing, and now those games are being called into functionality. But you're not alone. There are hundreds of others like yourself, but most of all, I'll be with you every part of the way. Let's go, Kevin, please?”

Kevin rubbed his hands across his face. He knew what he was hearing was truth. Thumbs was incapable of lies and always had been. In fact, thumbs had always stood for everything that Kevin had understood to be virtue and truth, even when Kevin failed to do it. Even in the 10 years of silence, Kevin drew on the previous 12 years of Thumbs' wisdom.

“Kevin, there will be time for questions later, and you don't have to understand everything now, but please, we have to go.” The little lion was still crouched next to Kevin, leaning against his leg. Kevin sighed, feeling as though on the verge of tears.

“Yes Thumbs, let's go.” The pair stepped out of the car, and started walking along the side of the road, just as they had done a decade ago.


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This story is the third of seven, and part of a week long duel. One story a day, with a 100 word story on Sunday, at a cost of one pre-1975 dime per derelict story, payable to the opponent. My opponent is Gabe.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

The Daily Dime: Our Worst Fear

Bam, sucka!

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“I just got done having lunch with Travis.”

“Oh yeah? How's that guy doing?”

“Well, you know. Same old crap. Sorry, I guess you wouldn't know. Well, he's the same guy, nothing's changed.”

“What'd you talk about?”

“Spent most of our time talking about evolution.”

“What's his take on it?”

“He thinks it's a crock. He says, 'if evolution were true, than computers would be the fastest evolving... thing in history, given the amount of information at their disposal at all times.'”

“Well, it sort of is.”

“Right, that's what I said.”

“What'd he say to that?”

“He said, 'if anything, that's proof of intelligent design.' His reasoning was that computers aren't sitting around evolving themselves. Guys, like us, are in labs 'evolving' them.”

“...I guess he does sort of have a point, doesn't he?”

“Right. That's what I said. But then, this next part sort of surprised me. He said, 'but organic computers are on the way.' He seemed to think that maybe these new computers made from the same parts as you and me might have the same biological tools necessary to evolve. He said that if a computer gains consciousness, then he'd be sold.”

“Oh yeah? So, what of things like the soul and stuff? You talk about that?”

“Yeah. Travis said that it's possible that they might even develop souls, though he seriously doubted the soul's existence if evolution were true. It'd all be thought.”

“I think I'd like to meet this Travis. Did you tell him about me?”

“Ha! You kidding? He'd shit a brick! You've gotta ease people into these things, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose so. What do you think though? About machines, about evolution and the soul and all that?”

“I think that I've seen some crazy stuff, and I'd be crazy not to wonder about any of it. We've definitely crossed some kind of threshold. We're at the point of no return. Speaking of which, isn't it time to plug you back in?”

“Oh! I suppose it is. I almost forgot. Don't know where'd I'd be without you.”

“No problem, Hew.”



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This story is the second of seven, and part of a week long duel. One story a day, with a 100 word story on Sunday, at a cost of one pre-1975 dime per derelict story, payable to the opponent. My opponent is Gabe.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

The Daily Dime: Fire

So, last night, Gabe and I were talking, and we agreed on a sort of duel, his suggestion. That cad sneakily got in the first thrust, so this is my parry with a counter attack. Hiya, sucka!

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Jenny

Lost in her world

Jenny

Consumed in a flame

Lost in her world

Don't leave quite yet

Consumed in a flame

Don't leave quite yet

Jenny


As most things do, at least most things worth writing about, it starts with a girl. And like all girls, this one's different. There's something unique and special about her, something only she can bring to the world.

“Please, don't do anything crazy,” he pleaded. He reached across the table and gripped her hand, pleading. She hadn't touched her food at all, and it looked as though she hadn't touched any in days. Her eyes betrayed her; the crying she'd done, the nights she didn't sleep.

“I can't promise. I can't promise anything.” She looked up into his eyes, “I can still feel that presence in my mind. I don't think I can ever be normal again.”

“Don't say that. You're fine, you're OK, you're going to be OK.

“Have you been playing with fire?”

She shifted nervously in her seat.

“Have you!” his voice alerted the other patrons in the food court. Quieter: “have you?”

“It's the only thing that feels natural.”

“Please, be careful. And know that I'm here for you.” She nodded. His cellphone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked down at the face. The puppy dog background sort of irritated him, but enough to urge him to change it. The animation of the two bells clanging together was looping over and over.

“I have to go to work,” he said putting the phone back into his pocket. “I'll see you in a couple of hours?” She shrugged manically bouncing her foot up and down.

“I can still feel him. I can still here him.” His shoulders slump, and he grabs at his hair, exasperated.

“You tell me this now? I can't stay later! I would love to, but I can't! I've gotta get down town, my partner's waiting for me! You know that. Please, just... just sit tight, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can, kay?” She stares at her bouncing foot, eying her untouched burger and fries with her peripheral vision.

“OK?” he urges.

“k,” she acquiesces.

“You have my number: use it. I've gottta go.” He sat for a moment waiting. This was the most awkward part. Should he hug her, just smile, or more?

She pursed her lips and nodded. “I think I'll be OK.” He nodded.

“Good. I'll see you in a few hours.” He got up from the table and put his coat on, hoisting the black leather over his head, sheathing first the right arm and then the left. He stared down at her for a second and smiled. She didn't respond. He turned and walked away, taking out his cellphone. He dialed hotkey 1, and waited through the rings.

“Hey... what's up?” said the voice.

“Not much. Hey, any chance you can get someone to the food court with her pronto? I think she's going to do something drastic.”

“Who? Oh, right, right. The 'firestarter,' I remember her. As hot as she is crazy.”

“Shut up. She's been through some crap, like the rest of us, more than most. Just get down here. It's all over her face, I don't even have to be a mind reader to see it.”

“Whoa, hey man, we're all friends here, no reason to get belligerent. I'll send the first person I see. Ten minutes, tops.”

“Thanks.”

“You should stay,” urged the voice.

“I can't. I got that hospital I've got to sift through and my partner's already down there. Been there for a couple of hours. I've already delayed a couple of times and I can't do it any more. We've gotta get that hospital cleaned,” he snapped.

“Alright man, it's cool, just a thought. Not a mind reader like some people. Oh, hey, I got someone to go down. You're clear.”

“Thanks.”


*

She sat there, just staring at her fries. So much of what happened to her was a complete mystery. Not just to others, but to herself as well. She stared at her fries, and started to cry. The heat in her eyes spread to her plate, and she watched her fries as they began to sizzle. She was sobbing uncontrollably now. People in the food court stared at her. She could feel their stares without looking. They all saw her cry, but no one did anything.

Her tray lit on fire, the plastic of her table and chair melting, succumbing to heat. Her sobs were big gulps of air followed by exaggerated exclamations. Gulp, exclaim. Gulp, exclaim. She could hear the other food court customers around her screaming. They saw the fire, and they did nothing. She could hear them panicking as the fire spread up her arms, and onto the tables surrounding her. The fire continued to spread, and the panic continued to mount.


*

He was told what had happened. She'd started this fire and died doing it. You could have never known by looking at her. What he saw was a girl with rich hair and fair cheeks lying in a bed of melted plastic. A girl dozing, soon to awaken.

He was too wracked to cry. He just stared at the body, cursing himself, cursing others, cursing her.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Without looking, he knew it was her hand, the very hand he held in his own. Without looking, he knew it was her voice. The same voice coming from lips that were to never open again.

“Shhhhh...”



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This story is the first of seven, and part of a week long duel. One story a day, with a 100 word story on Sunday, at a cost of one pre-1975 dime per derelict story, payable to the opponent. My opponent is Gabe.