Wednesday February 4th, 2015

The exercise:

Write about: the execution.

Trying to get this done early so I can get to bed at a reasonable time for once.

Spent most of the afternoon with Max in Penticton today. We got a few groceries, hung out at a coffee shop, and did a little exploring on Main Street.

And then he fell asleep in the car just as I turned off the highway to come down into Kaleden. So, rather than sitting in the driveway while he napped, I turned around and went to fill up the car with gas.

He slept through the whole thing, not waking up until I opened his door after we were safely back at the house.

Mine:

"What a bloody mess."

I glanced over at my partner before returning my attention to the scene before us. There was more that could have been said then but my lips were keeping both my lunch and my thoughts inside, so his four word summation stood alone.

After a slow shake of my head I tried to find a starting point. A jigsaw piece with one (preferably two) flat side from which I could begin to put the bigger picture back together. Or, at the very least, to find somewhere to stand that would not get my shoes dirty.

Meanwhile, my partner shuffled through the paperwork. He was searching for answers as well, muttering darkly as he did so. I wondered if I should wait for him before I began my work but he was quicker than I expected.

"The plan is quite clearly perfect," he said without looking up. "Fail-safes were in place, the right people were assigned to the correct jobs. This should have gone off without a whisper of a hitch."

"So the flaw," I said as I looked around at the debris left behind after the Black Friday sale event, "was obviously in the execution."

2 Comments:

Greg said...

Heh, I see you're getting sneaky around Max now and fitting him into what you're doing even when he's doing his own thing! That's definitely going to make life easier for you :) And I hope you sleep well!
I find myself saying this a lot to you, but nice misdirection again. I wasn't actually expecting you to take the literal interpretation of the prompt, but you made it look like you had, at least to some extent, all the way up to that punchline, so it was well sustained and the punchline delivered nicely. And I can quite imagine stores having to deal with Black Friday and its aftermath forensically, so I appreciated it all the more on the second readthrough.

The execution
"I don't know very much about him," said Dr. Septopus, one moist tentacle tapping a glossy piece of paper.
"Or her," said Sylvestra. She was reclining in her chair, the only one in the Council Chamber of the Council of Nastiness that had that facility. Dr. Septopus was still searching through the invoices and dockets to try and find out when she'd had it ordered and installed.
"Or it," slurred the Green Lightbulb. He was slumped in his chair and drooling from the corner of his mouth. Something green and oozy was running from the corners of both eyes, and his feet looked partially dissolved.
"Ignore him," said Sylvestra. "He's still recovering from his battle with the Kalahari Kalamari."
"Old Yukky Tentacles," said Dr. Septopus. "I thought he'd retired?"
"He rehydrated," said Sylvestra. "Anyway, we're getting off topic and Green isn't even talking!"
"Right," said Dr. Septopus. "Well, the Executor, whether him, her or it, is arriving on the 4th, tomorrow, although it doesn="
"Today," said Green, thought it was a wet, plosive, bubbling sound really. Both of the others looked at him, and then at each other. Sylvestra's mouth dropped open.
"He's right," she said, the tone of amazement unmodulated. "The 4th is today!"
"And I am the Executor!" said a deep voice behind her. Out of the shadows stepped a man carrying a briefcase and wearing a three-piece suit. "Tremble before me!"
"You look like a lawyer," said Sylvestra, not trembling.
"I am!"
Dr. Septopus immediately started trembling. "You're here to deliver an execution?" he asked. Sylvestra stood up and dragged Green's semicomatose body up.
"You can have him," she said.
"I am indeed," said the Executor, his smile as wide as a shark's. 'I am here to Execute... the Last Will and Testament of Chip Inside!"
"Chip's dead?" said Dr. Septopus, still trembling.
"Oil fire," said Sylvestra, dropping Green on the floor. "Ironic, in a way."
"Who is the Green Lightbulb?" asked the Executor, looking at them expectantly. Sylvestra kicked his recumbant body. "Ah, Lord Lightbulb! You have inherited much!"

Marc said...

Greg - thanks! I'm glad mine worked for you, as I definitely struggled with not giving it away sooner than I did.

I don't know why, but I really like that little snippet about Sylvestra having the only chair that reclines.

And... *Lord* Lightbulb? Oh, dear.