Lisa

Lizzie

Richard

Serendipidy

Norval Joe

Tom

Planet Z

The next topic is Across

LISA

It feels like weeks since we’ve seen ‘no 1’ and It hits me that we don’t know the date. I wonder if we’d get one if we asked for a newspaper.

There’s not much to do–most of us are writing something now mostly just scribbled thoughts. We laugh playing with the free gift on the breakfast cereal. Laughter always makes us sad afterwards. The basement becomes quieter and more subdued. It’s odd isn’t it?

It prompts us to think about another explore. We’ve not wanted to since number 2 arrived but we plan and it lifts the mood again.

LIZZIE

It's almost half past four. I pick up the book, a gift from a stranger in the park. "It's about France," he said with a smile. It hit me then that if I don't leave, she will destroy me. "Why do you hate me so much?" She asked. I don't. I never have. Wrong answer. And after that, she punished me for weeks with silence. I grab my small backpack, my whole life in it, and go. A gift, a smile, a gesture of generosity, and I am free. That's all it took. Amazing, isn't it? That's all it took.

RICHARD

Free, or captive?

I'm a sucker for a free gift, doesn't matter what it is, what it's worth, or whatever it is I have to purchase or sign up for to get it, count me in.

Supermarket trips can be a nightmare, hit me with an aisle full of 'buy one, get one free', and I'll be there all day, until the money runs out.

That's becoming a real problem, actually. My habit has put me on the brink of bankruptcy, and even though every room in my house is stuffed full of freebies, there's not an item of real value among them.

SERENDIPIDY

Long live the king, they shout and cheer. It sickens me, but let them have their moment, for it will soon be over and the streets will run with monarchist blood.

Tonight, the revolution begins, and we who have vowed to see a new future will rise up and claim France for its people.

No more will the aristocracy lord it over us, while we suffer and toil; no more will the working class support those who have never lifted a finger in honest labour.

Long live the king? I very much doubt it.

Vive la révolution!

Vive la France!

TOM

Faith

There is a waterfall in France call Labulaydelusane. As waterfall go it isn’t that high, or wide or watery crashy. What it has is a grotto of uncommon beauty. It gives the sanctuary of Lourdes Massabielle, a run for the money. A clever family in the 16th century place a pile of crutches against the wall. Over time folk have left 1000s of crutches on wall. The family got pretty damn rich hawking the healing water of Labulaydelusane. Everyone who left their crutches there need to roll away in a wheelchair. But still they come. Until the day Timmy arrived

848

Cross country.

cross country racing strategy does not necessarily simplify to running a steady pace from start to finish. runners debate the relative merits of fast starts to get clear of the field, versus steady pacing to maximize physiological efficiency. Some teams emphasize running in a group in order to provide encouragement, while others hold that every individual should run their own race. Whether you run ahead 'of the pack' or behind it and pull ahead in the end is important, but can vary according to the runner's skill and endurance. Runners should also account for food intake prior to the race.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert hovered above the car crash. It was like a free gift from fate that the shooter had been dazed when he hit the ground.

He recognized the Lincoln Continental that had smashed into the van as Mr. Withybottom's.

Three teenage Black Knights stumbled from the van. There was no movement from Mr. Withybottom.

As the residents crept into the meadow, Billbert heard distant sirens and a helicopter approaching.

The teens heard it too and scattered into the trees.

My doctor told me to lose weight, eat less sugar, lower my cholesterol and blood pressure, and exercise more.

So I got a smart scale, a smart watch, a smart treadmill, and a blood pressure monitor.

And for the past few months, I've dropped 30 pounds, my blood pressure is normal, and all my numbers are much better.

All those numbers are reported to my doctor's office.

She doesn't believe any of it.

"Who did you pay to take all those tests for you?" she asked.

"Nobody," I said.

And I don't have enough freeweights to stack on the scale.

Yes, I write. And I've been published.

Well, my work has been published.

Me, I prefer a low profile.

Pseudonyms and ghost-writing.

Let someone else take the credit, I just want the money and the challenge of writing.

Sometimes, the people I ghost-write for don't honor the contract.

They refuse to pay.

So I offer to write for their political opponent or enemy, or go to the press with what they told me.

"The contract includes the non disclosure agreement," I say.

They threaten lawyers. They threaten revenge.

But they always pay up.

And it makes for a good story.

In baseball, pitchers tend not to be good hitters.

In the American League, they have a designated hitter.

Instead of the pitcher batting, they have someone else bat for him.

Players who don't field well often are designated hitters.

In the National League, they make pitchers bat.

Or a pinch hitter bats for them, and then another pitcher has to take over pitching for them.

Major League Baseball saw that pitchers were an easy out or would bunt a runner along the bases.

So, they decided to relieve all pitchers of hitting duty.

By locking all of the players out.

The biggest word I've ever used is no.

When Enron collapsed and they were taking down the giant letters over the scoreboard at Enron Field in Houston, I was the IT Manager of a television station.

And there was a project to run fiber from the station to the stadium for video and data.

I convinced the crane operators to put the N and O together and I stood in front of them with an angry pose.

Someone took a photo for me, and it looked hilarious.

But over the years, I lost that photo.

I still have the memory.

I don't pry. I don't ask.

I find it to be rude to ask too much.

But it's strange... the less you ask people, the more they trust you with.

Some things are small. Other things are big.

And then there's the things that are huge.

Too big for them to carry.

So, they tell you, to help them carry.

You might think that the more people who carry, the lighter it is for everyone, that isn't how it works.

Trust doesn't work that way.

It's a lot to carry.

But you will. And they will help you carry yours.

A simple white cross.

Just like thousands more at the cemetery.

Far, far away in a distant land they gave their lives for.

His name. His rank. His hometown.

And the date of his death.

That's all. Nothing special.

Sure, it is set apart from the others.

A low chain fence, some flagstones.

Some bushes around a small plot of grass.

But no statues of angels, no lights.

No wreaths or flowers.

No cannon.

And no flags.

Just a soldier with his men.

In eternal rest.

Not killed in battle, like so many here.

But a drunk driver, turning left.

A day late, but not a dollar short...

Lisa

Richard

Lizzie

Serendipidy

Tom

Norval Joe

Planet Z

The next topic is PICK TWO Free gift, Long live The King, Hit, Scribble, France, Waterfall

LISA

A different man comes to the door this morning. His face is less gentle. He stares too long at all of us as he pops the box down. I see it in his profile a brother or a cousin, definitely a relative.

It’s awkward. He stands staring for too long. We stare back expectantly whilst having no idea what to expect.

“He’s been in a car crash.”

None of us speak.

“He’s OK but in hospital.”

He turns, lingers by the door.

“Do you need anything else?”

I’m not sure if any of us has blinked.

We shake our heads.     

RICHARD

Bad Reception

"Why do you watch that rubbish" she asked.

I looked at her blankly, waiting for further explanation.

She put on her 'exasperated' look. "It's car crash TV. You know it's aimed at plebs and Neanderthals, don't you?"

I grunted in response. Might as well rise to the occasion, I thought.

She looked at me in disgust, "well, I'm not watching it with you, I'm going to watch Britain's Got Talent in the bedroom!"

I gave her a moment, waiting for the bedroom door to close, before switching to the movie channel.

Nothing like having a good movie all to yourself!

LIZZIE

They survived the car crash. They survived the cruise ship sinking in the Mediterranean. They survived the train wreck in Sri Lanka. And the list went on and on. A tsunami, a volcanic eruption, a flood, a tornado, even a pandemic. Until that long-awaited trip to the North pole. "Take the icebreaker. It's safer," someone said." No, of course not. "Let's do something dangerous. Nothing ever happens to us." They rented a small plane. Did they know how to fly a plane? Not really. And that's where the list stopped. Simulation terminated. "Lousy game. Good thing it was dirt cheap."

SERENDIPIDY

Yeah, I cut the brake lines. So what?

It's not as if the car was worth a whole lot. It was falling apart, an unreliable rust bucket that would only start when it felt like it, and was a complete nightmare to keep on the road.

So, it really had to go, and I wanted to send it off in style. The idea was to floor the gas pedal and let it crash headlong into a tree, without anything to prevent the impact.

So, I cut the brake lines. So what?

Oh, right. Yeah, my husband was driving.

So what?

TOM

crash

It was my freshman year in college. My roommate was driving a Ford Econ. We were tooling down the JFK back to Evanston. Suddenly a spring downpour, 2in in about five minutes. We got cut off, not quite. Truck clips the front of the van sent is into a 360 spin. We pile into a bridge abutment. Driver’s door pops open dumping my roommate out. Van does a second 360 toss me out the same door on to the freeway. I side diagonally across four lanes of highway. And finally pile into the guardrail. Miracle, I survived the car crash.

Calcutta

It was the 36th hole. Two days of play. Our team was in second place. One stroke difference from beating the guys in first place. This was the only match at the club that banked bets. The caddies were not allowed to bet, but one member place them for us. The whole club was surrounding the green of the 18th. All three of the team dropped their putts. If my member dropped it on one it looked out the team behind us. The putt rims the cup and rolls a way. Everyone sees the choke. Crowd does a low murmur.

NORVAL JOE

Linoliumanda knelt next to Billbert, looked at Sabrina's leg and threw up.

Billbert pulled off his hoody, folded it into a thick square and pressed it against Sabrina's wound.

"Mandi. Hold this against Sabrina's leg."

Wide eyed, Linoliumanda shook her head, and vomited again.

"You have to," Billbert said and took her hands, placing them on the hoody. "Keep pressure on the wound."

People call it a robotic umpire, but it's a combination of radar guns, cameras, and computers.

The system gathers up all the data and tells the guy behind the plate if it's a strike or a ball.

It doesn't scan whether a swing goes around.

It doesn't judge foul tips.

It doesn't call safe or out on bases, foul or fair balls, or other important calls that umpires mess up.

Nor does it sue the league for accusations of racism because it gets passed up for promoton.

Which is why it's still in the minor leagues, calling balls and strikes.

I paid fifty bucks for the pay-per-view fight.

Ordered a bunch of pizzas and picked up a keg.

Moved the big TV to the patio, dragged out the sofa and chairs, and rented some more.

Put out some lawn games, cornhole, that kind of thing.

Put up a chalkboard for anyone who wanted to make any wagers.

Winner. Loser. Round. Knockdowns and knockouts.

People parked in the driveway, the yard, along the street.

Neighbors came over, too.

The fight lasted twenty-six seconds.

But the party lasted all night long.

Help me get everything back inside and take back the keg?