strangedaze

Strange Boys: A Cautionary Tale

(564 Words)

I used to know a boy who could turn himself inside-out on command. Small and wiry like a bent metal coat hanger, Franklin had been born a month premature, giving him, among other things, a jaundiced yellow complexion and giant brown billiard balls for eyes. Quiet and jittery, it was common to see Franklin turn himself inside out when put on the spot during class, so much so that the other students eventually got used to seeing his exposed pouches of bile and snaking intestinal tracts, though many of them were secretly jealous of his strange talent.

One day, during a field trip to a university, Franklin’s teacher, Mr. Martin was in a panic: someone had forgotten the children’s lunches on the school bus, resulting in twenty feral kindergarteners with aching bellies and drool hanging from their pre-pubescent faces. Thinking quickly and fearful for his own safety, Mr. Martin practically barricaded the children inside of the classroom that had been designated their eating area. It was nearly noon.

This delay made Franklin nervous. Huddling under his desk, he put his hands over his face and turned himself inside-out.

The other children hovered like starved gulls. Franklin, unaware of the mob around him, felt his body pinched and pulled as greedy little hands dragged him to the center of the classroom.

Glistening under the buzz of a long overhead light, Franklin’s organs were sticky and scented, like lumpy apples ripe for picking. One by one each of the vital parts were plucked and eaten. When they had their fill, their teacher burst through the door with a box full of bagged lunches. The children, all full, refused their lunches, rubbing fat bellies and burping. Confused, the teacher looked at Franklin, who was draped over a desk. He offered to eat all of the lunches.

That day was the last they ever saw of Franklin. Having no stomach with which to digest the food, the lunches began to rot in his gut. Slowly peanut-butter sandwiches mingled with pickles and fried bologna, decomposing and emitting the foulest stench imaginable. It got so bad that he was barred from school. Unsure of what to do, his parents locked him in his room, expecting the problem to solve itself.

First the smell, like Franklin, was confined to his bedroom, but soon the entire second floor of his house soaked up the putrid aroma. Franklin’s parents, stretched to the limit, said enough is enough.

‘Turn yourself inside out,’ they demanded.

‘I can’t!’ he pleaded. The food inside of him reduced his skin’s elasticity. ‘I’m trying!’

‘Try harder!’

To no avail. Franklin’s body, taut as a yard of dental floss, refused to budge. The proverbial shit hit the fan when his father went to remind Franklin to do his chores and vomited on his way up the stairs.

The next morning, Franklin woke up in the company of eggshells and a milk carton, stuffed in the trash compactor under the sink. It was cold and smelly. Franklin was afraid of the dark, but before he could do anything the hungry machine began grumbling. The shifting walls of the trash compactor went to work, pressing him into a bouillon-sized pink cube.


His remains were put to good use, though, finding peace under the gerbera daisies in the front yard. Under all that soil, Franklin no longer smelled.

And the flowers grew and grew, blooming the next day.

Strange boys make for fertile soil.

__________________
His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.

valeca

[ot:04abdf5b6a]My fable is not for scoring as I'm one of the judges. I wrote it for my own amusement. (Fellow judges, feel free to skip right over it without commenting...I know how much work goes into this as is.) 246 words. Traditional-ish[/ot:04abdf5b6a]

Leap

Two men, walking to the market, decided to take a short cut through the forest. As they walked, they came to a bridge that had been washed out in a recent storm. The first man, seeing an opportunity to brag, decided to challenge his friend to a contest.

“I bet I can jump across that gorge, and you can’t,” he said.

His friend eyed the gorge carefully. He took his time examining the lip of the gorge, stared a long time at the far side and counted off steps before accepting the challenge. Impatient, the first man, standing a short distance away, urged him to hurry. The friend, finally satisfied he had considered all the angles, leapt across the gorge and safely landed on the other side.
The first man, seeing how easily his friend had made the jump, made ready for a running start.

“Halt!” cried his friend from the other side. “Shouldn’t you look at the gorge before you jump?”

“You are overly cautious, my friend,” the man called back and prepared to leap. As he sprang from the ground into the open air, the man let out a screech as he realized he wasn’t going to make it to the other side. He tumbled down the side of the gorge, scraping painfully against jutting rocks and thorny shrubs before coming to a stop at the bottom in a twisted heap.

Moral: If you jump to conclusions, you might hurt yourself in the fall.

__________________
"...make your own nature, not the advice of others, your guide in life." --Pythia, Oracle of Apollo at Delphi

I'm here.

Ilan Bouchard

[an:ca34898c4f]As I'm judging, there is no requirement to critique or even read this (and by that, of course, I mean to say that everyone must do both). I wrote it only because my pride would not allow me to pass up such a bold and daring challenge as this. 'Twill be my downfall one day.
Word count: 336[/an:ca34898c4f]

The Man And The Man

Two friends grew up together as children. One child, Brutus, was always financially oriented. In every situation, Brutus saw a way of making a personal gain. The other child, Caesar, many days saw Brutus convincing other children to buy a shiny stone or similar trinket Brutus had come upon.

"How can you spend so much time trying to make money? You have so much you can do with your life, but instead you spend your time conning the other children. I wouldn't doubt you'd sell your soul, if you thought you'd get a good price on it," said Caesar to Brutus once.

Brutus took no heed and continued with his various schemes. As time went on, Brutus began making more and more money. He sold study guides to other children, invested in the stock market, and even became the manager at a store in town. Caesar contented himself with writing, painting, and singing.

Years later, Caesar and Brutus happened to meet each other. Caesar had become a homeless man, and used the few dollars he scrounged together selling paintings to buy warm articles of clothes, as well as various paints and brushes. Brutus stood in a black Italian suit, two beautiful women in hand; he was very rich, and now owned the second largest paper factory in the United States.

"Caesar, my good friend! How good of us to meet again, after all this time! How are things?"

"Terrible. I make my money by selling these paintings, but it seems art doesn't interest people as it used to."

Caesar and Brutus stood awkwardly. One of the women began nibbling Brutus' ear.

"Caesar, I will give you $10 for all your paintings," Brutus announced.

"They each cost me more than that just to produce!"

But Caesar, in no position to bargain, was forced to oblige. As Brutus walked away, one hand clutching the waist of each woman, Caesar wondered where he could buy a pair of shoes with his newfound wealth.

Moral: Money does buy happiness.

__________________
Ruthless comments encouraged!

Philo

The Octopus, the Squid and the Cuttlefish


Octopus and Cuttlefish, old Cephalopoda University classmates, met one day between the kelp forest and the Puerto Rico Trench, and got reacquainted. They shared their good news and laughed at the coincidence: each of them was in love with a girl from CU, and planned to ask her to marry. While they reminisced, Squid arrived for her date with Octopus.

"Hi Octopus. Oh, hi Cuttlefish."

"Hey Squid… you remember Octopus?"

"Well, yes. So… you guys keep in touch!” Octopus and Cuttlefish became quiet and glared at one another over Squid's undulating fins. "I never intended for this to happen," Squid blurted, "but you're both so wonderful. So different."

"Is that right?"

"You don't say?"

"Come on, we're all old friends, we can figure this out."

The suitors suddenly swished about, changing colors, snatching shrimp, and shouting things like: "Look Squid!"

"Pathetic," sighed Squid.

Which had the desired effect.

"I know, check this out!" Cuttlefish’s mantle became pure white, then a red dot appeared and grew until a heart covered most of his face. Then slowly, black spots appeared and grew together to form a message: C+S.

"Aww," cooed Squid lovingly and she and Cuttlefish touched tentacles.

"Oh god," moaned Octopus. "Terrific, but does he know where to find food when the Gulf Stream cools? Does he know how deep the Puerto Rico Trench is? Can he say your name… in Italian?" Squid's smile faded. She turned to Cuttlefish, who rubbed his tentacles nervously.

"Well, no, but can he do this?" Cuttlefish jetted from rocks, to coral, to kelp; disappearing before each. Squid gasped.

"How about this?" came the muffled response from the seabed below. A tentacle wiggled inside an impossibly small can.

Squid's eyebrows slid up and she turned back to Cuttlefish who’s eyes fell upon a cola bottle. He smiled. "Bet you can't fit in there." The bottle was half the size of the paint can Octopus was now oozing out of.

"No I can't fit in there genius. It's capped!"

"And octopuses are supposed to be so intelligent," Cuttlefish taunted. "Shall I have go, genius?" Cuttlefish clamped himself onto the bottle, yanking and twisting.

Octopus began to chuckle when Cuttlefish turned with a triumphant smile and little red cap in his coils. "Just lucky is all," Octopus swallowed, looking from Squid's expectant face to the tiny opening. "No problem.”

Octopus was soon squirming about, squishing this way and that and just when it looked like he wouldn’t do it, he slithered in. “Wow,” said Squid.

Returning Octopus’ jiggly little wave, Cuttlefish nodded solemnly as he calmly screwed the cap back on the bottle. “Yeah, impressive.”

Octopus’ eyes bulged against the glass.

“Cuttlefish,” queried Squid as he wrapped his arms around the bottle and pried it from the sand, “what are you doing?”

Rubbery squeaks punctuated the short trip to the Trench.

Squid streamed to Cuttlefish’s side as the bottle slid from his tentacles into the darkness.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” said Cuttlefish stroking Squid reassuringly, “He’s a genius.”



Moral: If you can’t be smart, be resourceful.

strangedaze

[ot:c132031f0d]Who's judging this, anyway? And great pieces, everyone, though I suspect that the best piece is yet to come *cough Lans you harlot cough*[/ot:c132031f0d]

__________________
His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.

ms. vodka

[ot:ff75eaeb9e]i believe this is the list, drew...

Aevin
daniela
gohn
ilan
ms. vodka
pgoroncy
selorian72
valeca
[/ot:ff75eaeb9e]