Advantage
“Alexandra?”
“Yes, General?”
“It’s Friday the 13th.”
“I know. Are you superstitious?”
“No, I’m not. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“I can’t help but think you’re going to use the date to your advantage somehow.”
Two soldiers meowed outside his office. They were all dressed in black.
“Take advantage how?” She cocked her head.
“Never mind.”
It’s the first Friday the 13th of the year. There will be another in November. Because of the superstitions associated with the date, it’s always a good inspiration source when it comes to these. Alexandra thinks so too which is why she “asked” me to write this one for her.
I’m a dog person but if she wanted me to be a cat, most likely I wouldn’t be able to say no. How about you?
Never Forget
Albert looked at his Mistress and whimpered.
“You’ve made your point. Hypnosis works! Can we go now?”
“Now that I’m having so much fun?” She patted his head. “We’re staying.”
“But…!”
“My decision is final.”
The naked thrall sighed and smiled at the tourists all around. They would never forget that day at the airport.
Random impromptu written on my way back from work. I dodged public transportation like I’ve been doing for quite some time now (unless there really is no alternative…) and walked home. The exercise is always pleasant but the streets were almost deserted which is weird but things are the way they are, I guess.
Funnily enough, all ideas I had revolved around large gatherings. I scribbled a few but liked this one best even though public play isn’t really my thing. All is fair in love, war, and fiction though as they say. And yeah, I know “they” don’t really say that but I do. Perhaps you should too.
Stabbed
“That hurts!” Julius Caesar complained as the strap-on ravaged his ass.
“I just saved your life. Take it like a man.” The time-traveling hypnotist retorted.
“Was I really going to be stabbed to death?”
“Yes, but I ‘fixed’ it. I’m tired. His turn,” she grinned.
Caesar looked back and screamed in horror:
“Et tu, Brute?”
In 44 BC, Julius Caesar, dictator of Rome, was stabbed to death in the Roman Senate house by 60 conspirators led by Marcus Junius Brutus and Gaius Cassius Longinus on March 15. The day later become known as the Ides of March.
I’ve been teasing writing another piece with the time-traveling hypnotist for a while and today I finally did it. You may recognize the punch line as what’s attributed to Caesar as he died but in this version of the History, his ass was the only thing “stabbed”. Do you feel sorry for him?
Negotiation?
The President of the United States mindlessly signed every paper presented to him, eyes focused on the onyx pendant hanging from the neck of the foreign ambassador.
After leaving the Oval Office with everything she wanted, journalists from all over the world asked her what the secret of her success was.
Her answer was: “Deeplomacy.”
Continuing my streak of rather lighthearted affairs when it comes to this challenge, this piece was born from yet another attempt to make a wordplay. Like other little tales that came before it, the last word was actually the first one to be written and then I built the tale around it.
I know a lot of my American friends wouldn’t mind if their current President was hypnotized, brainwashed, and taught a lesson or two. This piece plays with that.