Daily writing prompts from June 9th, 2008 to December 31st, 2022
Thursday October 13th, 2022
The exercise:
Write about: a vote.
Managed to get to the last advance poll to cast my vote for Penticton mayor and council this evening. Looking forward to seeing the results Saturday night.
I hope that you're looking forward to the results because one of the candidates is a dog (like Sixticton's Mayor) and you think they've got a good chance of winning :) Well done on all the work to get this done though, it must have been a pretty intense week for you! This continue's yesterday's prompt as... well, there was room for it.
A vote "Do I get a vote in this?" asked the jeweller in a resigned tone. "I'm serious though, yeah? Even if I let you see the paperwork, the Mayor's going to come and ask me questions, so my answers better not get contradicted, yeah? You understand me, Mac? I've got friends too, you know." "I haven't," said Mac. In some people that might have sounded gloomy but Mac's abused vocal cords meant he rarely sounded anything other than like the serial killer telling you that he's watching you. In others it might have sounded like a plea for help, but for Mac it was purely factual. He'd tried having friends, and discovered that people died around him whether they were on his side (well, technically at least) or not. He'd tried having a pet too and that also died. Then he'd tried a Tamagotchi and that had died. He'd considered stacking: getting a friend, getting that friend a pet and that pet a Tamagotchi but had eventually decided that there was death enough in his life and left the experiment for another time. "Yeah," said the jeweller, who wasn't surprised by this revelation. "Well I do, and some of them would be unhappy if I wasn't here being happy and cheerful and available for business, right?" "Look," growled MacArthur, "put the paperwork through a rusty shredder and hand it over and I'll leave. Now, if you want. And if Monkeybutt's got any questions for me, I'll answer them my way." "That's not how it's pronounced," said the jeweller, who didn't actually care but had made the same mistake himself when her bodyguards were near. "Fine Mac, fine. I still don't know how you found me, though. I did good work on that ring." "Yeah," said Mac, not giving any secrets away. "You did." The wind howled like a banshee as Mac slipped out of the back door (a steel security door set into a solid brick wall that was twice the usual depth) and for a moment the jeweller felt like the winds of Hell were blowing right through his soul. Then he closed the doors to get on with closing up, and only paused for a moment to wonder about the sanity of a man who would walk happily out into a hurricane.
2 comments:
I hope that you're looking forward to the results because one of the candidates is a dog (like Sixticton's Mayor) and you think they've got a good chance of winning :) Well done on all the work to get this done though, it must have been a pretty intense week for you! This continue's yesterday's prompt as... well, there was room for it.
A vote
"Do I get a vote in this?" asked the jeweller in a resigned tone. "I'm serious though, yeah? Even if I let you see the paperwork, the Mayor's going to come and ask me questions, so my answers better not get contradicted, yeah? You understand me, Mac? I've got friends too, you know."
"I haven't," said Mac. In some people that might have sounded gloomy but Mac's abused vocal cords meant he rarely sounded anything other than like the serial killer telling you that he's watching you. In others it might have sounded like a plea for help, but for Mac it was purely factual. He'd tried having friends, and discovered that people died around him whether they were on his side (well, technically at least) or not. He'd tried having a pet too and that also died. Then he'd tried a Tamagotchi and that had died. He'd considered stacking: getting a friend, getting that friend a pet and that pet a Tamagotchi but had eventually decided that there was death enough in his life and left the experiment for another time.
"Yeah," said the jeweller, who wasn't surprised by this revelation. "Well I do, and some of them would be unhappy if I wasn't here being happy and cheerful and available for business, right?"
"Look," growled MacArthur, "put the paperwork through a rusty shredder and hand it over and I'll leave. Now, if you want. And if Monkeybutt's got any questions for me, I'll answer them my way."
"That's not how it's pronounced," said the jeweller, who didn't actually care but had made the same mistake himself when her bodyguards were near. "Fine Mac, fine. I still don't know how you found me, though. I did good work on that ring."
"Yeah," said Mac, not giving any secrets away. "You did."
The wind howled like a banshee as Mac slipped out of the back door (a steel security door set into a solid brick wall that was twice the usual depth) and for a moment the jeweller felt like the winds of Hell were blowing right through his soul. Then he closed the doors to get on with closing up, and only paused for a moment to wonder about the sanity of a man who would walk happily out into a hurricane.
Greg - still no dogs running for mayor here. I'm sure it will happen eventually though. When the people are ready for it.
A fortunate turn of events, then, as this feels like a tidy conclusion to the previous day's writing.
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