Hey #2minutesgo crew! Same drill as usual. #Breaktheblog! Unfortunately, I am going to be away all day. Can't host and probably can't play. Work commitment. Good news? The awesome Laurie Boris is taking over hosting duties HERE. <- (click the HERE, jojo)
Have fun, and everyone have a great weekend!
THE MAN ON THE CLOCKReplyDelete
We found him in bas relief on the face of the giant tower clock, impaled by its long dark hand that carried him lifelessly minute to minute. From the street below we wagered pocket change what precise moment the bloody hand piercing the bloody fool would release him.
From the crowded plaza, we watched the creaking minute hand pass 12, then 1, 2, 3, and 4. To spare any further lives, we cleared a soft landing, a bed of loaded garbage bags from a nearby hopper. Then at 6:25, the man on the clock plummeted like a wingless bird, the dead man who had tried in vain to hold back time.
We all agreed he had done enough harm to render this a hardly forgettable summer afternoon.
Time waits for no man, they say. Great writing, Sal!Delete
I like this. The imagery is grotesque without being gross.Delete
The view-screen's display broke up into a scramble of static for a moment, Brother Computer's voice-over continuing flawlessly until it steadied.ReplyDelete
“Trueman and Hayzi woke early this morning.” The picture switched over to show the show's two remaining house-mates making themselves breakfast. The camera zoomed in close, the screen capturing both of their faces but keeping a view of the ever-present show timer counting down behind them.
“Hayzi thought she'd make herself ready for the show finale tonight;” the time-code skipped ahead three hours, the coverage focusing only on the woman this time. It showed her unpacking three completely different outfits from her case, trying each on in turn, eventually choosing elements of both the second and the third and finally topping it off with the 'signature' sunglasses generously loaned to her by the show's production company, MoltoCon.
The live feed switched over again, this time showing the paddock beyond the compound surrounding the show's 'house' set. “As you can see, the crowd is even bigger this week;” the camera zoomed out, panning across the hordes of the dying and already undead, the zombie plague having run through the assembled public in less than half the day they'd been kept waiting for the winner's announcement. “The house-mates just won't believe the reception they're going to receive.”
This is such a refreshing take on both reality shows and the zombie craze AND the AI takeover concept. It's creepy and brilliant.Delete
Thank you. Something for everyone!Delete
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” she muttered under her breath like a prayer. It helped her focus when Kaled started in on his daily lecture on how low women were, how powerless and dependent. Whatever man she had seduced to her will in the past was a spineless infidel without the strength to win her free of her new life. her place would be assured, and her duties light if she remembered that to please her new master in all things is the path of the blessed.ReplyDelete
She let them think that they had the upper hand, that they were wearing her down for their reshaping, to do their bidding.
“Sticks and stones…”