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August 22, 2005
Volume 5, Issue 22
The theme for today is the word cross.
Laurence - Don't Pay The Catapultman
"NEXT!" shouted a voice.
Arthur spat out the coin and handed it to the robed specter on the shore.
"Where's your boat?" he asked.
"Repairs," growled the ferryless ferryman. "Leaky hull."
"So how do I get cross?" asked Arthur.
"Hop on," said the ferryman, pointing to a catapult.
Arthur smirked. "Is it safe?"
"You're already dead," said the ferryman, shrugging. "What do you care?"
Arthur climbed on the catapult, and the ferryman grinned.
"Ready?"
"N-"
The ferryman pulled the lever, and Arthur was flung screaming into the gloomy mist.
"Replace me with a toll bridge, will they?" he grumbled. "NEXT!"
Andy: Forgive Us Our Sins
I'd never seen a shooting. A single shot to the head and a man's life was gone forever.
He lay on the gurney, clothes in blood-drenched tatters from the medics' efforts; his arms splayed to the side; some kind of martyr on a fallen cross.
They rolled him into the ambulance and drove away without sirens. There would be no wailing for tonight's dead. Perhaps his mother or father would tomorrow.
"Nothing good to see here," said a man to his girlfriend. "Let’s go."
She giggled.
No, I don't know why anyone would want to die for us humans either.
Ted: Crossed Words
Dirk dove for the dagger as the foul felon fiercely fumed.
"Finished with the theatrics then?" queried the quorum of corrupt conquistadors. "On with the acrobatics. Rout this rotter, Ranger."
The rude ranger cum criminal danced directly to Dirk, blade at the ready, disgrace as his destiny.
"You can still turn back old friend, you can return with me and have the King's pardon. I would hate to have to kill you now," Dirk doged as Ranger's rapier ripped past his ear.
"Or I can behead you, and bide in the Vale of Alliteration forever!" the dastard deigned to taunt.