101920b

 

Smart cards
recognize each other
tell you when it's time to fold
makes for a short came
recommended for compulsive gamblers
anyone who's broke
have killed the game of poker dead

081320b

 

candidate lies through teeth

rolls three d6's = 18 to be believed

crowd gives him all their money

repeat

the crowd doubles down

what'll I do with all your firstborn brats? 

050120b

squidball
the hard part
is rolling up the arms
before making the toss

110919c

puzzle pieces
cover the big table
suppertime

050219

rock, paper, scissors
and fusion device
Trump card

061217b

outside of a dog

Man’s Best Friend paused

could he be hiding here

crouched over a book

MBF popped in to check

but it was too dark to see

052317b

Get Yourself a Clue


Colonel Mustard hefts the wrench
smiling through the empty library
the darkened hall
antique glass on the faded carpet
a jagged shard
extra-lexiconical, if that's a word
but it would do
still-warm candlestick
and its wisp of smoke
so many choices
while Aunt May slumbers
on her bed
head down on the polished walnut table
snoring in the sun-struck wingback
watering the ferns
he's reached the kitchen now
the seasoned skillet, the...
someone's at the door

hmmm

101816b

Breakfast World

Pancake Land was better than Bacon Land. Bacon Land! Oh my god, the lakes of boiling fat, the stench. Wilson used to like bacon. Bacon sandwiches were listed as his favorite meal on his Facebook page, for god's sake. Now, he hoped he would never have to eat or even smell it again. They had finally reached the portal in Bacon Land and passed through to find themselves still on Breakfast World.

In Pancake Land it was the sinkholes. The ones that had already popped meant a long, weary trek around a hemispherical hole. Some were miles in diameter. If you fell into one, it might be possible to climb out. The rough surfaces provided plenty of handholds. Might be possible, were the sinkholes not tenanted.

One of the clones had stood too close, peering into one of the first they found, and the edge had given way. The clone had made it about halfway back up the wall (the sinkhole was a small one) when something caught hold of his leg. The clone had struggled for a moment, then abruptly stopped moving and, a few moments later, simply melted into the surface. Soon there was no sign the clone had ever been there.

Nascent holes were much more dangerous. They were concealed under subtle domes in the irregular pancake surface. The bigger the cavity underneath, the gentler the slope above. Newly popped sinkholes were already occupied, but their deadly tenants (whatever they were) were slow to react. One member of the party made it out alive from the second breakthrough, though she left part of her foot behind. It took two more breakthroughs and more loss of life before the survivors realized that the caps were springier than other parts of the pancake surface.

As they toiled on toward the next portal they encountered fresh horrors: steaming rivers of molten butter; a viscous red fluid that pursued them relentlessly until they managed to trick it into a tremendous sinkhole; and fantastical white mountains that were so unstable a heavy footfall could unleash a deadly cream flow.

Finally, the portal was in sight. Its eldritch glow was by now so familiar the pulsing arch seemed like home. Wilson broke into a run, but stopped abruptly when Jordan screamed. She screamed and screamed, pointing at the sky. Wilson looked up. His voice joined hers as gigantic metal pillars plunged toward them.

"The Diner! By all that's holy, the Diner cometh!"

End

Publ. Daily Cabal, Feb. 17, 2011