Humor
The Mad Monster of Murky Lake
"Go on; go in! Unless you're...CHICKEN!" I didn't need to hear anymore out of the neighborhood boys. "Sam" Kitwell was NO chicken! My only challenge was to get into the lake, swim out to the end of the pier, swim to the buoy, and swim back. After all, "everyone in the neighborhood had done it!" This was how they had ALL proven they had belonged; and I sure wanted to belong in the neighborhood.
By Kent Brindley4 years ago in Fiction
Cursed Anonymous
“Hello, and welcome to Cursed Anonymous. I see we have a lot of new faces today, so how about we go around the room and introduce ourselves. I’ll go first. My name is Midas, and I’m cursed with turning everything I touch into gold.” He gestured toward the man with a thick beard to his right. “Next?”
By Lauren Triola4 years ago in Fiction
Supermarket Tribal
9.05am My regular supermarket has changed things around again. I hate that. It seems a somewhat tone deaf thing to do in the middle of a pandemic, and as I hurry along what used to be the condiment section, clutching my basket, I see my own emotions echoed in the eyes of the masked shoppers around me; confused, angry, frustrated.
By Michelle Tuxford4 years ago in Fiction
Wilkerson's Tank
Caution: If foul language offends you might want to skip this one. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Wilkerson drowned of his own doing. Well, of course, he had no plan to do himself in at the beginning, but it was inevitable, once he drove his tank off the pier. In fairness, he was not aiming for the murky deep, but was attempting to drive his tank over the brow, to take his newly-won prize aboard ship, so that he could bring the clanking machinery home with him.
By Charles Turner4 years ago in Fiction
The Last Macaw
Some think that to be both lively and retired is an oxymoron, yet three ladies in their late sixties, sitting on a bench in Central Park during a pre-COVID-19 afternoon, all three energetic and pensioned, were discussing the nice weather they were having in October, a couple of weeks before Halloween, when usually it rained and the falling leaves snatched the seasonal show. The trees still stole the spectacle with their tears, but only lovers could be suffused in such solicitude, and perhaps those wondering about climate change, which is more like weather shock.
By Patrick M. Ohana4 years ago in Fiction
Genius Grant Winner is No Einstein When it Comes to Life
Genius mathematician Ramash Rapandradan winner of the prestigious Fields Medal and most recent MacArthur Fellow “Genius Grant” awardee struggles to complete a wide variety of activities most humans consider basic to everyday life. He has made important contributions to the study of hyperbolic geometry (also called Bolyai–Lobachevskian geometry or Lobachevskian geometry), a non-Euclidean plane geometry which considers the geometry of surfaces with a constant negative Gaussian curvature. In contrast to his proficiency with the highly abstract mathematical geometry he is less capable of functioning with actual geometry especially directions, which he does not know how to follow, and often becomes lost while walking or driving short distances from his apartment in Cambridge. Ramash is also said to be a leading mind in knot theory, the study of mathematical knots. These knots are similar to those from daily life such as ropes and shoelaces, but the ends are joined together so that they cannot be undone. In precise mathematical language, a knot is an embedding of a circle in 3-dimensional Euclidean space, R3. Two mathematical knots are equivalent if one can be transformed into the other via a deformation of R3 upon itself (known as an ambient isotopy). Ironically Ramash cannot tie his own shoelaces and often considers the various problems inherent in ambient isotropy while struggling to untangle his which he sometimes ties together rather than preparing a single knot for each shoe as intended by their design. Ramash will spend the no strings attached $645,000 five year stipend to continue his pioneering work in information theory and signal processing, two important branches of applied mathematics involving the quantification of information, and the analysis, interpretation and manipulation of signals. In contrast to his proficiency with information theory he struggles mightily to process information related to many aspects of his home life including where he put any of his silverware, which items need to go in the refrigerator and which in the freezer, and how to put on pants. He also misunderstands a host of signals sent by other human beings when involved in social interactions and often mistakes a friendly smile from a woman as an invitation to take her to bed, and a handshake from a man as a challenge to a duel. Reached for comment Ramash looked down sadly, shook his head, and mumbled “What’s this all about now? Who are you? Where am I?” and finally, “I forgot to wear my pants again didn’t I?”
By Everyday Junglist4 years ago in Fiction
