As he placed the blocks in sequential order it was only a matter of time before the red and green flashing lights would start whirling in the great conference room. He’d been sat there for what seemed like days, only taking breaks when the pain in his knees and bladder got to much for his concentration to handle.
Now he was so close to the end.
The grand prize was irrelevant.
This was all about proving his uncle wrong. It wasn’t “Digital Lego”. This took skill and planning. This was Minecraft and he was good.
He had ten more blocks to place and then it would be finished. His greatest sculpt to date.
The Taj Mahal!
Fireworks on the stage, lights focused on the girl on the next trestle table.
She had finished a split second before the boy.
He didn’t win. But he had created beauty. All with digital pixels.
Everyday, a new creation. A new world, all with the click of a mouse.
This post is a little departure from the first 4 that came last week. Having a day off yesterday and it being Easter Sunday caused a few wrinkles in my plan to have things up and ready for first thing in the morning. We had a family lunch yesterday and when those things happen it kind of feels like a whirlwind of mini events happening all at once and it is only once it is all over that I sit down at the end of the day that I feel like I can sit down and just breathe. Well, yesterday, my breathing didn’t really start until 9pm.
Anyway, my prompt for today, wasn’t given to my by anyone in particular, but rather it’s an overheard conversation that made me laugh so hard I had tears in my eyes. It’s pure logic, that I can wholly subscribe to a Cheeseburger Loving person.
When asked by his son about his supposed reduced meat intake my brother justified his taking another slice of Beef at lunch today:
It’s not that I have actually cut down on the amount of meat I eat, It’s just that I have increased the amount of vegetables to compensate for the meat I was already eating. Win-Win
On a planet just past The Madillon Star Cluster was a small, long forgotten Dalek research base that was forgotten for one very simple reason. Simon, The Depressed Dalek.
Simon, it was rumoured had a genetic link to some controller in the Dalek High Command. That shouldn’t have mattered to the Daleks as they were a bunch of miserable buggers who couldn’t give a monkey’s uncle about family, but you know what it’s like when your wifes sisters cousin; twice removed gets involved… it’s messy, especially at War Council Bar B Ques.
So Simon was shipped off and forgotten, except for the persistent rumours of a depressed Dalek who goes around smelling flowers and baking Jam Tarts for the rest of the troops. That kind of news always gets back to the Daleks who really don’t like THAT kind of news and they always want to EX-TER-MIN-ATE some thing or IN-VADE and blow some planet or other up. It gets messy, so reports of Simon often get lost in the transmat logs and no one really minds.
Simon loved the quiet life in at the research base, he wasn’t expected to EX-TER-MIN-ATE anyone. No random blasting of innocent people just using his blaster to top off his Creme Brule’s. He spent long lazy afternoons tending to his Bio-Dome allotment garden growing herbs for his pies whilst all the other Scientists were using the Bio-Dome for nerve agents and deadly gases that would probably never get used because they were in a forgotten research base on a forgotten planet all because some Daleks were trying to forget a Depressed Dalek.
It’s not hard being the only Depressed Dalek in Dalekdom but it’s hard being stationed with the only depressed Dalek in Dalekdom!
The stillness cut through chill, but no one moved an inch. If they had had hearts you wouldn’t have heard them beat.
The condensation ran from the top of Private S. Berries helmet and dripped to the floor, his eyes darted to the sound as it hit at his feet.
The stand off had lasted what seemed like an age. It was always the same when it came to going “over the top”. The Generals would sit around “Out There” in the warm plush areas and decide the fates of the (p)reservists. Each morning was the same. Was no one safe?
Over in the corner was a small yellow helmeted soldier. No one liked him. He had gotten off lightly every day for months. He had turned up on secondment one day and done absolutely nothing ever since. Sub-lieutenant M. Armite . Love him or hate him, he was probably the only one getting out of this war alive and in one piece.
All of a sudden Gunner M.A.R.Malade spun on a sixpence and called for silence.
“I hear it – BREAD! BREAD! BREAD!”
They all knew what it meant. Four minutes and it would be time.
First the blinding light
The time always seemed to drag in those 4 minutes.
A moment to readjust your eyes.
The great beast of a hand hovers over the battleground. It swipes one way and pauses. A great HMMMMMMMM sound rings through the air. Indecision reigns over them all and then in the swiftest of swoops, and in one of the most unlucky coups of modern Fridge Warfare, Brigadier General Lightly Salted Butter was grabbed from the third self down and removed from the Theatre of battle and taken away never to be seen again.
It appears that that the Brigadier General was out for his evening constitutional last night and took a wrong turn at the Aga Oven and got lost in the confusion after dinner and was put away by mistake.
Dispatches report that he was a good pack of butter and he will be replaced by a a General N. Utella who has been fast tracked from the Flying Squad via Sainsbury’s.
(Butter image taken from http://www.freeimages.com/photo/237540 – Credit to Matthew Trow )
It is often stated that good King Arthur was laid to rest on the Isle of Avalon to recover from his mortal wounds suffered at the hands of Mordred at Calmann. Word spread far and wide that he would lay in wait in peaceful slumber until his people needed him again to rise and lead them in battle.
There was just one small problem in this plan. Whilst Arthur was laid to rest on Avalon to recuperate he was subjected to some amazingly annoying neighbours. You see, Avalon was also the homeland of Morgana and her 8 sisters. Avalon not being a very big place there wasn’t a great deal of male help around the place and if truth be told, old Arthur had over egged his injuries a little and it hadn’t taken quite as long to recover as Merlin had planned.
Arthur was now stuck on an Island with no escape with 9 women who constantly demanded Tea on a regular basis and had other demands that put quite a deal of pressure on his sole manly frame. There was many a night Arthur wished that he hadn’t thrown Excalibur into the drink and had a way to get of the lads from the Round Table for a game of cards and a jug of Mead. Anything to get away from the harpies from next door. If he heard Hubble Bubble Toil and Trouble one more time he would take the stone that the bloody sword came out of and shove it…