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June 23, 2005
Volume 2, Issue 23
What? It's my turn to do the theme again?
I'm still shocked that the hapless Houston Astros just swept the even more hapless Colorado Rockies today. Craig Biggio was hit twice by the pitcher and he's now one plunk away from tying Don Baylor for the modern-era record.
The theme for the day is "one away from something."
Michele: Stickin' In My Eye
I’m clenching my teeth, trying to not actually grind them.
He’s doing it again. Turning every conversation into a story about him. I’m listening to him talk and it’s all “I, me, my.”
My eyes are rolling back in my head. He’s deadly when he’s self-absorbed.
Now he’s telling that story about his accident..
He’s one “I” away from a fork in the eye.
I interject, “Betty’s daughter...”
Betty rolls her eyes as Sam launches into a story about his own progeny.
One “I” away....
“I had an accident much worse than that....”
Jesus, that’s a lot of blood.
Tanya: I ain't never seen France.
Tall and serious, he stands, staring into the near distance. Focusing on his goal, rejecting the underlying evidence that life lacks inherent meaning, and that this is but a pointless, futile gesture.
He knows that only he can accomplish this. A man must be his own god, make his own choices. Existence must precede essence.
He squints carefully, willing himself into action. Shifts his body slightly, preparing for the next, final movement, that will change the course of this endeavor. This could be the most important moment of his life.
“Dammit!”
“Don’t worry, Dude. You can pick up the spare.”
Laurence - On the run
The hunter cowered behind a tree. He took off his fur cap, wiped the sweat from his gigantic bald head, and breathed heavily and rapidly.
He stopped.
Can it hear me?, he thought.
A twig snapped.
He'd lost his gun. His beloved double-barreled shotgun.
In the distance, click.
It has my shotgun.
After all these hunting seasons, the hunter had finally become the hunted.
More footsteps. Big, furry footsteps.
His heart pounded. His throat clenched.
"Don't bwast me!" shouted the hunter. "Fow God's sake, wabbit, pwease don't bwast me!"
Click.
The hunter ran, wishing it was still Duck Season.
From the Comments: hnumpah
The kitten barely escaped being crushed when his owner sat down without looking...
Eight
The family dog took exception to another pet in the house...
Seven
Got tumbled dry with the laundry...
Six
Fell out of eighty foot oak tree in the back yard...
Five
Just missed being run over while crossing the street...
Four
Trapped in a trash can and almost crushed by the garbage truck...
Three
Fell off the backyard fence into a yard full of Dobermans...
Two
Chewed the dieffenbachia and had to be rushed to the vet...
One
Lucky sat quietly and considered his next move.
Ted: Almost...
keep going...keep going...
i can do this...
goddamn that hurts...
gotta breathe...
come on dammit...
this is his fault... gonna kill him when this is over...
OWWWWW...
that was the worst yet... can't believe 30 seconds hurt that bad...
fuck... fuck... fuck...
how long...
i'm so thirsty...
all the juice in my body is going out my cunt... shit...
never trust a manager they said... well now i fucking well know...
if he speaks i am going to rip his balls off...
"One more honey!""NNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"
"Fuck the world record for biggest gangbang! I quit! Get me to a hospital!"
Stacy: One Away
She stood in the sweltering afternoon sun, taking shallow breaths of the tepid air. Sweat trickled down her back, made her palms slick. The stench rising from the stagnant pond behind her was pervasive, rotting vegetation cloying at her nostrils.
She squinted at the grass, trying to see through sweat stung eyes. Her mind wandered, made leaden by the heat. Visions of cool showers, icy drinks and air conditioning pulled at her thoughts.
She gripped the club firmly and swung. The ball rolled up, down, sideways, and missed the cup by two inches.
“Sorry, babe,” he said, “that’s a bogie.”
Andy: My Aim is True
"How are you?" she asked.
"Been better."
"The doctor says it was an inch to the left of your heart."
"The guy had shitty aim," he said.
"Lucky."
"How about you? Everything okay?"
"Yeah. I mean, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure. We can talk later."
"Talk about what later?"
"Nothing. Don’t worry about it."
"No, what is it? Tell me."
"It can wait. Until you’re better."
"Look, Emily, talk to me."
"I need to go."
As the door closed behind her, Kevin eyed the plastic knife on his tray, wondering if he could hit one inch to the right.