Write about: the reversal.
Snow, snow, so much snow...
This was taken a few days ago, but you get the idea:
Just, you know, add the five inches or so of snow that fell today and then you're all set.
P.S. If anyone wants to deliver firewood to my door... I won't say no.
Mine:
"Twenty-one red!"
The dealer sweeps my chips off the table, all of them having kept a safe distance from the winning number. Again. I shake my head and place more chips, spreading them around the middle third of the table this time.
"Place your bets please!" The dealer calls in a loud, clear voice. I'm the only player at the table but he has been doing this before every spin. Gotta admire his commitment. "No more bets, please!"
Come on, you stupid little ball. Land right for me, just once. I need this. You know I need this. Come on... come on... yes... yes...
"Two black!"
Why does he have to yell the winning number with so much enthusiasm? Especially when it's not my winning number?
"Place your bets please!"
I look down at the chips remaining in my stack. Singular. Where did the rest go? Only enough for one more play. On a hunch I go all in on thirty-six red. I've got a good feeling about this. I'm due. I can't miss.
"No more bets please!"
It's time for a reversal of my non-existent fortunes.
4 comments:
That looks nice, though I feel I ought to warn you that a bear appears to be trying to eat Max's head there :) I guess another five inches will make it nearly knee-height for Max in places? As for the firewood... you could ask Amazon to do a drone-delivery for you ;-)
Your croupier seems the consummate professional, which is more than I can say for your gambler! Still, I'm sure he'll find something else to gamble with when he runs out of chips. Though i wonder if his luck is about to turn, since that would definitely add interest to the tale....
The reversal
Sally and Geoff sat in a small room on hard chairs, holding hands, and waiting. The room was simply furnished: apart from the chairs they were sitting on there was another hard chair against a wall, an office desk with a Rolodex (Geoff had gotten up and spun it to check that it was real) and two locked drawers, and a bookcase that held a spider-plant with expansionist plans. There were no books, no carpet, and no signs of any modern technology.
The first ultrasound had been the first indication of trouble, and even then it hadn't seemed like much. The nurse had ummed and ahhed and suggested that they take an amniotic fluid sample, with the intimation being that the dark shadows of the scan were well within the realms of normal, but just unique enough to be worth checking. The results had come back and been reported to them as "all fine!" and that, they thought, was that. Then the second ultrasound had had a similar outcome, only this time when the results came back they were invited in for a chat. And then put in this room and told to wait.
A door opened and a man in a white coat came in. He was carrying an iPad and wearing an expensive-looking suit under the coat. He took the coat off, laying in on the desk, and then perched on the corner of the desk.
"Geoff?" he said.
"That's me," said Geoff, raising his hand. Sally said nothing, but she couldn't help but wonder how the man at the desk couldn't guess who was who.
"Sally?" Sally nodded, refusing to play games.
"Good. Right, down to business. Your baby has complete chromosal reversal." He held up a hand to forestall questions. "I know you don't know what that is, and it's not very important to you to be honest. What it means," and here he paused for effect, "is that your baby is effectively an anti-human. Everything that makes a human is happening to your baby, but in reverse. They should be entirely healthy at the end of it, but they'll be very unlike us."
Geoff had turned deathly pale, and his hand sought Sally's again. They clutched each other as though nothing on Earth could make them let go.
"We also have to get that child out of you and into an incubator," said the man. Sally's hand tightened, cutting off the blood supply to Geoff's fingers, but he said nothing. "Humans and anti-humans are a little like matter and anti-matter."
"I'm going to explode?" Sally's voice was so shocked it was almost inaudible.
"No," said the man. "That would be a happy ending. That's why we have to get it out now."
"How do we raise such a–"
"You don't. We'll look after that. This is probably not the time, but we would be willing to provide you with a replacement baby if you'd like."
Sally and Geoff stared at each other, neither knowing what to think.
Well. Much as I would like to follow that up with more about the elaborate baby-trafficking scheme the evil doctor came up with, let's pay a visit to the park, instead.
===========
This way,
That way, swinging
In the sunshine, this way
And that way, back and forth, singing
Softly of swinging in the warm sunshine
Enjoying the moment, spinning
Out the park visit, back
And forth, this way,
That way.
The world is always on my back,
Growing heavy with each step.
I can hear her harsh words
Whispered in my ear every minute.
“You are unworthy of your dreams.
The time for fantasizing is past,
Succumb to normalcy and
The mundane. This is your life now.”
But a new year has come at last,
A year of fresh starts and bright
Futures. I choose to ignore
The world’s harsh words, instead
Looking once more to my dreams.
I will once again turn to my
Fantasies and will see them
Realized, at last. This year
Is my year to become me again.
Greg - nah, that's just a Tasmanian Devil. Happens most winter days around here, no big deal :)
Also: that drone delivery idea is solid. I will think of that next time!
Welp, that's a total horror story. Hurray for a normal pregnancy for us thus far!
Morganna - hah, I like your explanation for Greg's story much better that it going as the government guy explained!
Lovely poem, by the way. Reminds me of summer. Much needed at this time of year.
Ivy - really like the message in your poem. Very optimistic and life affirming :)
Especially like the final stanza, though all four of them are really good.
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