Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Zoned Zebras


by M. J. Joachim

Zebras were singing Zip-a-dee-do-dah in Zambia; Led Zeppelin showed up and arranged for their capture to show them what real music was all about, soon drowning them out by playing Stairway to Heaven with some friends. “Zoinks!” cried Frank Zappa. “Why doesn’t everyone play ZZ Tops and call it a day already?”

The Zebras fled in terror, zig-zagging through the tall grass and eventually getting very far away. To their surprise The Zombies followed them, all the while singing, “It’s too late to say you’re sorry. How would I know? Why should I care?”

Zac Brown saved the day when he set the zebras free and sent everyone back home. The Zutons stood their ground, stayed in Zambia and took the zebras on tour with them. As long as they were zoned, zebras and Zutons got along fine.



Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Plains zebra (Picture of the Day – July 3, 2012); Muhammad Mahdi Karim, GFDL
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Monday, April 29, 2013

Yolanda on the Yellow Sea


by M. J. Joachim

Yolanda yearned to sail her yacht on the Yellow Sea. As a marine biologist, this was something she dreamed of since her youth. Being from Yukon Territory, her journey would begin by heading south out of Icy Bay, then southwest from the Gulf of Alaska to the Pacific Ocean, before continuing west across the Pacific Ocean into the East China Sea. The Yellow Sea is the northernmost tip of the East China Sea. Yangtze River, the third longest river in the world, dumped out into the Yellow Sea.

If all went well Yolanda’s plans to gather more information on the endangered Yangtze River Dolphins would go off without a hitch. She’d been researching them for years and had dreams of photographing them in person. She also looked forward to seeing some beautiful country in the process.

As her days wore on at sea, Yolanda became very fatigued and out of sorts. What started out as basic flu-like symptoms soon ravaged her body with fever, severe abdominal pain and constant diarrhea. Her crew and staff were also getting sick. No one suspected everyone had been exposed to yersiniosis, a bacterial infection caused by eating undercooked meat products and drinking contaminated water.

Weak as she was, Yolanda made her way to the stern of the ship with her camera in hand one day. She was determined to take a few photos of her trip, even if she didn’t have energy to search for dolphins and study them. As she stood there holding the rail, a shadow appeared, then two and finally three more. Yolanda let go of the railing, raised her camera and started snapping pictures. To her amazement, a family of Yangtze River Dolphins flew through the air, chirping and singing to her as they flipped and dove in and out of the water.

Years of research were complete. She dropped her camera on the deck, then staggered and fell over the railing, the dolphins there to catch her. Carefully, they carried her swiftly down the river, back into the Yellow Sea, far away from her yacht. She was one with them now. No one ever heard from Yolanda again.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Qutang Gorge on Yangtze River, Tan Wei Liang Byorn, GFDL
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Xenosaurus’s Voyage


by M. J. Joachim

Xenosaurus Platyceps made his way off the rocks to stow away on the trading ship Xebec. After so many years of hiding in the rocks of Xichú, Mexico, he was tired and scared of always being stepped on. Xenosaurus watched hundreds of xenops die at the hands of tradesmen. The sailors used xiphoid arrows in their bows to catch and eat their prey.

Using their skills of xyloglyphy, sailors would carve miniature totem pole symbols in the bones of the birds after they ate them.

It was a dangerous proposition for Xenosaurus to make his way onto the beach, swim out in the ocean and climb the Xebec. Still, he had to try. His one dream in life was to visit the fields of xeranthemums and xanthismas in the United States. He was so old now and he wanted to die among the flowers.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Xenosaurus Platyceps, Aliguori, Creative Commons Attribution – Share Alike 2.0 Generic
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Friday, April 26, 2013

Wabbit Webels


by M. J. Joachim

“Wascally wabbit, what’s up with you?” Lawrence Welk wanted to know. Welk, a famous variety show host who had invited Mr. Rabbit on his show, planned to weave music and songs from way back when, into a walk-on skit where Bugs Bunny was making fun of Elmer Fudd.

Bugs was having none of it. No old geezer like Lawrence Welk was going to wiggle his way into mocking his co-worker and friend, Elmer Fudd. “I won’t do it, Welk!” Bugs Bunny warned of retribution if Welk didn’t release him from the contract.

Meanwhile, Walt Disney escorted Snow White on stage. She was holding Winnie the Pooh’s paw, while wistfully encouraging Bugs to come out and join them. Bugs knew the gig was up when he watched Wile E. Coyote whiz right past him in a whirl. 

Woefully grabbing Fudd’s hand, he waltzed out on stage and said, “What’s up Doc?” to Lawrence Welk.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Elmer Fudd, Warner Brothers, US – PD
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Veiled in Vibrant Colors


by M. J. Joachim

Vibrant colors infiltrated Vivian’s dream victoriously. It had been such a long and dreary few days, watching her father suffer and die of cancer. The funeral was almost unbearable, especially with her vicious sister ever on the attack, visiting with people and bashing her father’s memory.

Sleep had not come easy. Tears flowed like waterfalls, until fatigue triumphed in their wake. Vivian was exhausted, her body could hardly stand and her mind was nothing more than mush. As she lay down, she thought of her father and wondered where he was, what was happening to his soul. If only she could verify he was safe and know he was okay.

Veiled in vibrant colors, the answers she needed came to pass. Vivid colors of the rainbow flooded her mind’s eye while she slept. She saw them, first her two uncles who had passed before her father.  They were colors dancing on the robe of Jesus. Then she sensed her dad getting closer, curious, but hesitant too.

In a flash, two colors pulled him into the circle of mixing hues glorifying God who was smiling. He was home. Vivian’s dad was embraced and welcomed with volumes of loving arms and he was violet.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Harpe de Lumiere, Georges Noblet, Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 2.5 Generic
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Umberto Undone


by M. J. Joachim

Umberto couldn’t have possibly known what was in store for him when he set out from Utah to visit Ulysses Grant’s Tomb on the uneventful morning of July 4, 1985. It was nearing the hundred year anniversary of Ulysses death; Grant died of cancer on July 23, 1885.

Umberto’s journey had been planned for months. He was working on a special history project for one of his online undergraduate classes. His goal was to undermine the history behind Grant’s Tomb, the largest mausoleum in North America.

Mark Twain, who had always been a huge supporter of Grant, unveiled Umberto’s motives to Ulysses, with the understanding that Umberto would soon come to know the underworld he was taking on. Ulysses appreciated Twain’s unadulterated loyalty, having experienced his unrestrained magnanimity before, when Twain offered to write Grant’s memoirs upon his deathbed, which ultimately saved Grant’s family from being broke after he died.

Together, Ulysses and Mark worked out a plan for the undoing of Umberto. Upon his arrival at the tomb in Riverside Park, New York City, Umberto felt uneasy. There was a sense of ugliness in the air and strange odors unleashed themselves in his presence. Suddenly his skin began to itch; soon he was covered in ulcers and taken to a nearby United States Military hospital.

There he was united with upstanding men who told him the true story of Ulysses S. Grant, the story of a hero who was a great general during the Civil War, a man who showed compassion toward Confederate soldiers when they lost the war, the same man who faced serious financial stress, but released his own slave (given to him by his father-in-law) and gave him his freedom, rather than sell him for profit to ease his burdens.

Umberto, realizing the error of his ways, understood the message. Through a strange turn of events, he was unable to continue his undergraduate coursework and became the unauthorized biographer of Ulysses S. Grant instead.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J. Joachim

Resources


Photo credit:  USA Grant’s Tomb, National Register of Historic Places, GFDL
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Tara’s Tarantulas


by M. J. Joachim

Tara slept peacefully amidst the tarantulas in her midst. They were her friends, much more so than those she would never trust again. These furry little creatures cuddled up to Tara, did her bidding and appreciated her tender caring ways for them.

As Tara slept, her tarantulas covered her like a warm, fuzzy blanket. The sun had set and evening was getting quite a bit colder. Tara had run away from home, you see, after being traumatized for thirteen long and brutal years. Her only comfort was when she’d walk through the trees in the forest and talk to the tarantulas, on those rare occasions when she could escape the wrath of her mother and father.

Tara’s parents were alcoholics and they threatened and beat her every day. Hers was to keep the house clean, do her schoolwork and try to cook a few decent meals for the family. It was never good enough; Tara always fell short in some way or other, and consequently took her beatings with as much bravery and courage as she could muster.

She never felt sorry for herself, never had a thought for self-pity or revenge. She simply escaped into the forest and talked to her tarantula friends from time to time, to release the emotions pent up in her heart. The tarantulas always listened intently, determined to make Tara feel a little bit better by being so caring themselves.

Tonight was different. The tarantulas were very disturbed when Tara came to them and asked if she could sleep in their midst, telling them she had run away because her parents had threatened to kill her. It seems she was having problems keeping up in school and her teachers had finally reported she might be the victim of abuse. When Tara got home from school, the authorities had already been to her house; they’d started an investigation and Tara would likely be taken away based on what they’d found.

Tara’s father told Tara then and there he would kill her first. He would kill her mother in front of her, then kill her and finally kill himself. He told her she’d have to help kill her own mother. He told her death was better than being denied the pleasure of terrorizing Tara.

Tara ran to the trees and told her tarantulas what had happened. They in turn, sent an army to the house. Tara would live with the tarantulas now, since her parents had been tortured and poisoned by thousands of hungry, man-eating tarantulas.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit: Brachypelma smithi, voir ci-dessous, GFDL
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Monday, April 22, 2013

Senior Scholarship


by M. J. Joachim

School was driving Sylvia crazy. Every year, she looked forward to summer vacation. This year seemed particularly difficult, especially with so many online classes with syllabus’s that strove to keep each student busy for hours.

Time management wasn’t her issue. Sylvia strove to manage her time effectively. Still, she couldn’t force the issue and make things happen in a timely manner. School administrators were little to no help. This was on her; she had to step up to the plate and do something to finish out the year on a high note.

“Son,” she said. “I’m going to make things easier on you this year. I know high school is hard and I’ve always expected you to work a few hours since you were sixteen years old. This year, however, you don’t have to work, so you can slide through all your classes and graduate with that scholarship you’ve worked so hard for. I know it hasn’t been easy, but you can still get it, if you spend more time on schoolwork.”

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Monroe Community College Graduation, David Maiolo, Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 3.0
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Saturday, April 20, 2013

River Rafting with Roy


by M. J. Joachim

River rafting was something the boys looked forward to every summer. Three relaxing weeks of rushing white water rapids, camping on the shore and male bonding. Memories like this were all the rage, as stories relayed from years gone by surfaced in anticipation of this year’s reunion.

Roy had other plans for the boys this year, however. He’d watched them come and go, every single year for the last twelve years in a row. He was tired of their ruckus, tired of their fun and just plain tired of them.

Roy was the local homeless man – a guy who’d never settled down, moved from town to town and took up residence in the hills by the river as soon as the sun made it unbearably hot in town. He was a rebel, a man who’d been arrested for disorderly conduct, breaking into businesses and residences to meet his needs and stealing what he wanted, most of the time without ever getting caught, even though everyone knew Roy was to blame.

The first three days on the river couldn’t have gone better for the boys. Then it happened. Their raft burst into flames while they were floating down the river. Dave hollered at Jeff, who quickly reached out to grab Steve before he sunk, after hitting his head on a nearby rock. Rick floated facedown past them both, legs looking like they’d been gnawed to the bone.

Before they could comprehend what was happening, another blast, and then Roy floated out to meet them. He picked up one of Rick’s legs and tossed it toward Dave. “Now this is what I call excitement, boys!” he laughed. “Much more so than all that rafting down the river and camping on the shores you all seem to enjoy so much!” he excitedly declared, as he landed his raft and headed into the woods.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Alaska range small waterfall on river, U. S. Fish & Wilelife Service, Public Domain
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Friday, April 19, 2013

Queen Bee Gives Birth


by M. J. Joachim

Queen Bee looked at her young litter of pups and began licking them proudly. None of their barking seemed to matter. They were mama’s babies and keeping them quiet was not an option. As long as they were making noise, no predators would dare to bother them.

Tired from giving birth, Queen Bee dozed amidst the fury of little ones suckling on her teats. She didn’t hear the biologists, stalking her from the cliff; she couldn’t possibly know what they had planned, as she had never seen a human before.

In their quest for information needed to preserve the herd, the biologists slowly and quietly descended the mountain to the cave where Queen Bee had given birth. They watched from afar, peering in with zoomed lenses on their cameras.

Never before had they seen Queen Bee so calm, patient and peaceful. She had been destined to be put down, in an effort to save the other sea lions and animals in the environment from her wrath. One last chance was all she had. If mating and childbirth didn’t work, her life would be over. Sacrifice of the one to save the many.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Sea Lion Beach, National Marine Mammal Laboratory, U. S. Government - PD
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Pickle Fraud


by M. J. Joachim

“Pickles! Pickles! How the heck did pickles end up all over the floor?” Patricia screamed as she slipped and went flying across the room, upon getting home from work.

Paul quickly came to her rescue, helped her up and tried to explain. “I ran into the pickle police today, Pat, and they told me the only way to prevent being arrested for pickle fraud was to pick my pickles from the rest of these, and prove they’re mine.”

“Pickle fraud!” Patricia screamed back at Paul. “Pickle fraud!?”

“Yes, pickle fraud, Patricia. I don’t even know what it means, but since we preserved so many pickles last summer, and I don’t know how to prove any are ours, I thought it best to place the pickles out where I could see them all, to figure out a way to identify them.”

“Pickle fraud is police talk for prostitution pyramid schemes, you numb nuts! Don’t you know what a pickle is by now, for crying out loud?” she screamed as she set her purse on the table. “Now I’ve got to go get changed and prepare for my next john,” she said. “Thanks for letting me know the pigs might be onto us.”

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Pepinillos encurtidos 2009, Tamorian, Creative Commons Attributionn 3.0
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Octavius’s Octopi


by M. J. Joachim

Octavius worked furiously in his laboratory. His newest invention would be considered rather outrageous; he himself thought it was quite outstanding. Only time would tell, if his earthbound octopus could do what he had planned.

As a member of Orion’s Mad Scientist Community, Octavius could pretty much create anything he wanted to, provided it could move, breathe and scare people. His invention was made by cross-breeding humans with octopi, so that the tentacles resembled human limbs, the head looked like an octopus and the defense mechanisms were muscle, strength and ink. Octavius went one further; the octopi he created could live on land.

As he unveiled his new creation at the annual OMSC Convention, others openly stared in awe. Otis, one of the other scientists there, wondered why the octopi were caged and guarded so closely. He quietly snuck behind Octavius’s display, reached in to feel the human tentacles, when suddenly, he was sucked through the bars and squeezed to death. The octopi quickly let out a large display of ink after eating its victim.

Octavius looked around and said, “Curiosity killed the mad scientist!” Orion got on the loud speaker and declared Octavius the overwhelming winner of this year’s Convention entries, having “death-dified” his uniquely satisfactory new invention.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Octopus 2, Albert Kok, GFDL
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Monday, April 15, 2013

Newcomers in North Las Vegas, Nevada


by M. J. Joachim

“Nickeled and dimed to death, Nancy! We’ve been nickeled and dimed to death!” shouted Norman, as he waded through their never-ending pile of bills.

“Nonsense, Norm,” Nancy shouted back in reassurance. “No one took a cent we never owed ‘em!”

Neither did they get the best deal in town, but no one was the wiser about it. Nancy and Norman were newcomers, not knowing who to do business with in North Las Vegas, Nevada. They didn’t understand the gambling industry there, nor did they appreciate the subtle nuances of niceties, people given to knowing when the fruit is ripe, if you know what I mean.

Norman and Nancy were naturally sweet, nice folk, ripe for the picking in North Las Vegas. Word about their arrival spread fast among the sharks; Norman and Nancy were easy targets, as newcomers go.

Except Norman and Nancy neglected to mention they were really Neil and Nadine, owners of the newest casino chain on the Las Vegas Strip. Naturally, everyone who tried to take advantage of them was fired and never stepped foot in the town of North Las Vegas again.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  North Las Vegas Skyline at night, Curimedia, Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Market Mincemeat


by M. J. Joachim

Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten so darned mad in the first place. But menaces like Marybeth drive me crazy! Milk is difficult enough to come by in this monitored society we live in, where everything has to be manufactured and government approved, before we’re allowed to have it.

Marybeth knew those darned government mentors would be hot on my trail, if they knew I was hiding a cow and selling milk on the black market. It’s not like she needed to rat me out either. We’d been swapping her eggs for my milk for months now. Then, suddenly, she turns mealy mouse on me, like some milk-toast government mentor on me.

Millstone around her middle, that’s all I could do. Meant to drop her in Minnetonka Marsh, mingle and dangle her until she mentioned the truth is all. I never meant to kill her, just scare her a little, that’s all.

Turns out Marybeth meant no harm at all. She had no clue her chickens were being monitored by machines. Government mentors had been monitoring all of us black market sellers, and now they were gathering us up to turn us into market mincemeat. Seems Marybeth would have died anyway. I’m just glad I was the one to save her so much torture, torment and misery from the government.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Mincemeat, Stuart Caie, Creative Commons Attribution 2.0
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Little Old Lady Laughs


by M. J. Joachim

Little old lady was locked away, left in a nursing home, for the remainder of her days. Her children were distant, long gone from her likes. She’d left them little use for her, so they took a hike.

Listening to staff and nursing personnel, laughing as she went, this little old lady was harmless, near as anyone could tell. Day after day, and into the night, she’d learn their frustrations and even their frights.

Little did they know, it was her all along, their lingering prankster, playing them like a song. She’d sneak through the halls when all were asleep, messing with their papers and giving them the creeps.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J. Joachim

Photo credit:  Boende, Magnus Froderberg, Creative Commons Attribution 2.5 Denmark
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Friday, April 12, 2013

Killer Dogs in Kalaupapa


by M. J. Joachim

Killer dogs were on the loose in kingcup fields in Kalaupapa. Having been misplaced by volcanic eruptions from Kauhako Crater, the dogs had been held captive and bred for years, since the reign of King Kamehameha V in the late 1960’s. 

Kept in captivity for research, these dogs managed to outsmart their keepers, and get away.

Only one thing could lure them back, preventing the dogs from terrorizing the peninsula. Kiwifruit, acres of kilometers of kiwifruit would divert the dogs’ attention from populated areas. Thankfully, kiwi acres were abundant on the island of Kauai.

As the winds blew from Kauai toward Molokai, the dogs picked up the scent. They headed toward the ocean and began to swim toward the scent of kiwi, a food they’d been trained to devour above all else. Slowly, the kayaks moved in, encircling the dogs, trapping them once again.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Coast of Kauai, Hawaii, Paul Bica, Creative Commons 2.0
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Jury Duty


by M. J. Joachim

I honestly think they have my name on speed dial or something. I’ve been summoned to appear every three years and sometimes sooner, since I moved to Junction City more than seventeen years ago.

Superior Court, Federal Court, Local Court for Minor Offenses…

You name it, I’ve been summoned.

Last year, I filled out 30 pages for a Grand Jury summons in downtown Portland. This year, it’s Superior Court in Junction City – no questionnaire attached, thankfully.

I have neighbors who have lived in Oregon their entire lives and never been summoned to appear for jury duty. For whatever reason, they managed to stay off the radar.

No such luck from where I’m sitting. I’ve never been selected to sit on a jury yet, but I’ve dutifully filled out paperwork and spent hours in court buildings waiting to be dismissed more times than I can count. A few times it was a bit easier – I called the phone number to find out no further action was required…very few times, I might add.

Once again, I walked up to the counter today, handed in my paperwork and waited for the process to begin.

“Oh, honey. You’re not being summoned for jury duty this time,” the justice clerk replied. “You’ve been judged by a jury of your peers and are under arrest for jerking with the judicial system and jamming up our computers.”

As they placed my wrists in handcuffs, I knew the jig was up. It hadn’t worked for me in Juneau, Alaska either, which is why I came to Junction City. The time had come to learn some new skills. Clearly, hacking into government computers wasn’t working for me anymore.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  The Jury, John Morgan, PD - US
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Iguana Insurgence


by M. J. Joachim

Iguanas were everywhere when Igor entered the pet store. Increasing in numbers and taking over the building, they hid inside boxes, air ducts and other animal cages. Big iguanas, small iguanas, incited iguanas ignoring Igor’s intriguing plan to set them free.

“We are already free,” they incited as if to claim their territory. “We rule Igor’s pet shop and all the others bow before us in humble supplication.”

Igor was beside himself, injured by the ingratitude and insurgence of his pets, animals he loved and cared for, seemingly more than his own wife and children at times. Sweat poured from his body. Anxiety caused him to act quickly, on impulse.

Ingeniously, he packed each iguana into a pet carrier, boxed them up and shipped them to Idjwi, an island in the Republic of Congo. Here his friend in immigration would implement the process to immobilize the iguanas from increasing their reign of terror.

As he sipped his coffee, Igor’s wife noticed his hand shaking. “Are you alright, Igor? Maybe you shouldn’t go into the shop today. You seem like you might be coming down with something,” she said as she felt his head for signs of a temperature. 

“I’ll be fine, Ingrid,” he said. “After all, it was only a dream, one that gave me invaluable insights about the father and husband I am and truly want to be.”

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Portrait of an Iguana, Bjørn Christian Tørrisen, Picture of the Year 2009, GFDL
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Hotdogs for Breakfast!


by M. J. Joachim

Hallelujah! Hotdogs for breakfast! Who knew a hobo could find so much enjoyment from something as silly as that? Harry hadn’t been a hobo for long. He used to have a job at the local machinery factory, until it closed down during the great recession that sent most home-based merchants into a tail-spin. Once the housing crisis hit, it was all over.

Harry and his friends decided to take the path of least resistance. They chose to hit the road and find any work for hire they could. Homeless and hoping for a chance to earn a meal, Harry was the last one still heading across the country. A couple of his boys moved in with their parents; one did the unthinkable – drunk and in the depths of despair. Three others managed to find permanent work along the journey.

Not Harry though. He was destined to be a hobo forever, celebrating life in all its glory, one bright day at a time. Today, he was celebrating hotdogs for breakfast. The local hooker house needed some maintenance, you see, a few hinges replaced on doors and cupboards, some fresh paint and hardware fixed up on the outside, odd jobs no one in town would dare to bother with, on account of hoping the local hooker house would be put out of business and clear on out of town.

Harry helped, and today he received hotdogs for breakfast as his pay. He was positively in heaven.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Hot dog, Evan Swigart, Creative Commons Attribution 2.0
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Monday, April 8, 2013

Global Genetic’s Gaffe


by M. J. Joachim

Global Genetics was a generous company toward its people, which is why so many people were shocked by the gross injustice taking place at their hands. “It’s nothing more than genocide,” claimed Gwendolyn at the grand opening of her grocery store, a store dependent on subsidies from Global Genetics.

Greg, her husband, pulled her aside to quiet her down. “Greedy corporate bastards, they are, honey, but they’ve been working with the government far too long for us to make a ruckus in public like this. You just keep your feelings and thoughts to yourself, or we might end up on their list,” he warned.

Meanwhile, George gathered necessary information. He worked for Global Genetics, but had no qualms standing up for his friends and neighbors. If Global Genetics truly thought they could get even with Germans for killing so many Jewish people during World War II, they were going down, one way or another.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Inbox collage for WWII, Staberinde, German Federal Archive Cooperation Project, Creative Commons Attribution Share Alike 3.0 Germany
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Saturday, April 6, 2013

FBI Fugitive


by M. J. Joachim

Furiously, Fred the Fedex delivery man raced to Freeman’s Fire Range to pick up his final package of the day. He’d waited a long time for it; finally, after weeks of finalizing federal paperwork, his freedom to fire his gun would be found.

Frieda sat anxiously, frightened by the news she watched on television. Fred, aka Firearm Freddie, was on the loose. No one in Fairbanks was safe. A fugitive was set free by accident – a fiend to society, hell bent on making freedom wreckers pay for locking him up in the first place.

Fickle as usual, Fiona, Freddie’s mom, flagged the police. “Face planted him, officer! One fell swoop from this here mother’s forearm, and he was on the floor!” she said.

From that day forward, Fedex lost one of its best delivery boys and Freddie lost his freedom forever.

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  FBI, Federal Government, Public Domain
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Friday, April 5, 2013

Earthworms on Envermeil


by M. J. Joachim

Evening arrived early on the planet Envermeil, named for the vibrant red earthworms eaten by its inhabitants. Everything else was emerald or eggplant; both of these colors being dingy at best. The earthworms, however, glowed, casting shadows against the creatures in their dark, ebony surroundings.

Easy enough to find, difficult to capture, the earthworms envisioned a better life for themselves on Envermeil. The environment was toxic for them. Fear depleted their energy, often dwindling any light they might produce.

Edwin, the Emperor of Envermeil, had always expressed empathy toward the earthworms for this. Eventually he’d hoped to encase them in a special castle, where they might feel more secure and less on edge. Everett, his son had other ideas.

Everett wanted the earthworms to be free. Every day, Edwin had his eagle scouts count the number of earthworms in Envermeil. It was tedious work at best, especially since many of the earthworms were eaten in the process. Still, more and more earthworms seemingly inhabited the planet, often making it too bright to see without wearing special eyeglasses.

It was an enigma to be sure, one Everett counted on, as he enlightened the earthworms with special powers, energizing their brains, so many of them could engage in the process of forming colonies on Exotheca, the nearest planet east of Envermeil.

#####

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Earthworm copulation, Beantree, GFDL
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Deadly Determination


by M. J. Joachim

Dying was not an option for David. As bad as his disease was, dying was something he never planned to do. He yearned for his developments to reach fruition, knowing he could deem his device worthy of challenging the ultimate demise with dead-on consequences.

Weakness and cloudy memories filtered through David’s brain. He was not prepared for this. There were no discussions about dismissing the challenges, prior to going through the process. Dedication was the only thing he had left.

Slowly, David hooked his device onto his chest, inserting the wires into his special vest. Purposefully, he turned on the machine, listened to it whirr and prepared to deliver himself into the next realm of life, a place of destiny for those incapable of dying.

Daniel noticed David’s hands shaking as he did so. Dramatically, he declared David’s demise by the other druid’s standing guard. “Weakness is not an option for those determined to de-zone earth, Daniel emphasized. Death is all that is left for you, David,” he said decidedly.

#####

Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  An Arch Druid in his Judicial Habit, S. R. Meyrick and C. H. Smith, PD – US
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Caught by Crochet


by M. J. Joachim

Crocheting was Catherine’s favorite pastime. She’d sit for hours, days and weeks, working on each project as if it were going to be a classic piece; she’d dream of being discovered for her creative genius while she worked.

Carefully, Catherine would move her hook to and fro, twisting and winding the pattern around, in a 3-dimensional sculpture. Once completed, she would cast it under the lights, to make it glow.

Skillfully, Catherine carved the object captured in her crochet netting. Catastrophically, her carnivorous tendencies revealed themselves to those concealed within her crocheted cobwebs.

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Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Yarn Bombing, John Young Fountain, Montreal, jococo21, GFDL
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Bayliss and the Blasted Barbarians


by M. J. Joachim

“Blundering idiots!” screamed Bayliss, the Beluga whale, as he attempted to swim toward the bubbling blue water. “Caught off-guard again by those blasted barbarians!”

Blubber, that’s what they were after, something Bayliss had plenty of, if they ever caught up to him.

Each day, Bayliss scouted the territory, searching for signs of trouble. Food was abundant in the bubbling blue water, because all the whales knew the barbarians liked to hunt there.

Bayliss was tired of being afraid; he was tired of feeling bullied by the barbarians. “Blast it all!” he yelled. “That’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to blast it all!”

Later that night, he gathered his whale friends in a circle. “Slowly now,” he said. “Very slowly, we’re going to circle around them, creating the biggest whirlpool they’ve ever seen. Then, just as they try to escape, we’re going to call in the sea urchins, squid and octopus groups. As these sea friends ink the place, we’ll gather enough seaweed to tangle them up for days. Then…”

In a flash, everyone darted and raced away. “Wait,” cried Bayliss. “I haven’t told you the best part…,” he winced, as he felt the harpoons enter his side.

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Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Moby Dick – Final Chase (1902), I. W. Taber, PD-US
©2013 All Rights Reserved

Monday, April 1, 2013

Alfred’s Legacy


by M. J. Joachim

“Abolish slavery, man! What, are you nuts or something?” two little ants argued back and forth.

“We need these adolescents to carry the weight of the load!”

Anna, the administrator ant looked at her leaders and sighed. “If you work them too hard, they’ll be worthless in the community as a whole,” she said.

All three looked at the ancient ant portrait of Alfred hanging on the wall. “Amicably, always amicably,” they said in unison. 

Then the three little ants went out into the field and relieved the adolescents of their duties. “We’re a team,” Anna said to them. “It’s your turn to sit and rest a spell.”

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Special Thanks to Arlee Bird for starting this amazing Challenge!
Thank you for visiting FlashTyme.

M. J.

Photo credit:  Ant Bridge, Army ant bivouac, Geoff Gallice, Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic
©All Rights Reserved