25 Jan 2021
Today’s prompt: “I can’t go into this right now, but if I could, I’d tell you this…”
Ooh, is that an Acme Series 6800 Deathtrap you’re in? The classic “strap ‘em and gas ‘em” traps? It looks an awful lot like the 6832 model. I’ve got great news for you! It’s pretty easy to get out of! I can see you’ve already discovered that the wrist ties are pretty stretchy. But did you know they made the release catch for both the wrist and ankle straps on the bottom of the slab you’re strapped to, within easy reach of a hand strapped to the tabletop? Yeah! You can just flip that lever, and the ties automatically do kind of the reverse of a retractable leash – they spit out more strap, loosening your bonds! Also, you see how they’ve got a separate, slightly inclined attachment for your head to rest on, kind of like the head thingy on a masseuse table but not as ergonomic? There’s a defect in the material they use to attach the headrest to the rest of the table. It doesn’t take much leg strength to just snap it off by stomping on it. But the headrest itself is sturdy enough that you can use it to break through the really quite fragile glass they encase the trap in to keep in the gas. It might take a couple attempts, and you’re better off holding the headrest while you whack it against the glass rather than throwing it, so it’s a good thing you’re wearing long sleeves so you’re less likely to cut yourself on the glass. The one downside is that you’ve got to act fast. Acme got one thing right – the chamber fills up with gas really fast. Ideally, you should have gotten out of this by the time I was finished telling you how to get out, haha! Oh, no, no, uhh…. The switch I was telling you about is higher up on the underside of the table than that. Move up and to the left … up and … jeez. You’re starting to move kind of sluggishly. Probably the gas. Oh, no. This is bad. This … does not look good.
22 Jan 2021
Today’s prompt: “Re-create your earliest childhood memory”
Your earliest memory is of something truly mammoth – way bigger than mama and dada – towering over your crib. Big green snaky things came from out of its mouth. It spoke in a loud and gutteral voice, words you didn’t understand then and wouldn’t understand now, but the pure sound of which made you cry then, and probably would have sent tremors through your spine if you heard it today.
If some scholar in ancient tomes and otherworldly languages were around, they might have been able to translate what this being said as, “Later. When you’ve fattened up a bit.”
20 Jan 2021
Today’s prompt: “Your last cry”
The last time you cried was when you fell into the vat of raw onions at the French’s factory, just prior to being chopped up and golden-fried for use in green bean casseroles.
18 Jan 2021
Today’s prompt: “The end of the world”
What do you envision when you think about the end of the world? Does it, as R.E.M. proposed, start with an earthquake? Does it look like Hieronymous Bosch’s darker works? Do you see devils pouring from cracks in the earth’s crust, crimson-skinned, behorned and howling? Or demons pouring from cracks in the earth’s crust, some non-traditional nightmare of giant spindly spiderlegs and scorpion tails? Xenomorph-style aliens pouring forth from spaceships as their crafts’ weapons blight the land with destructive rays? Old ones pouring forth from some rift between worlds, all tentacles and eldritch-ness and amorphous blobs with way too many eyes? Or are your visions of armageddon more grounded in the world around you? A plague ravaging the land that those in positions of power refuse to do anything about? An antidemocratic mob taking to the streets with assault weapons? A madman with his finger on the button?
Well, whatever you envisioned, you were right. Except there was 70% more ash, 45% more fireballs, 15% more lava, 20% more gross intergalactic ooze, 15% more grooss bronchial ooze, 35% more roentgens, 10% more sharp claws impaling people’s lungs, 65% more racism, and 5% more tentacles. And you were in the first 12% of casualties.
15 Jan 2021
Today’s prompt: “Your dream vacation”
You’d always rather liked the idea of being buried in sand by your kids on a warm California beach. Not taking a dirt nap next to a cultist compound outside Helena, Montana.
13 Jan 2021
Today’s prompt: “She was a fat woman whose eating habits were dainty. There was a check for $13,612 in her purse, not made out to her, but, you know. She was good at figuring these things out. Start with her hair.”
Her sleek bob was starting to get to that obnoxious length where it’s so long she feels the need to tuck it behind her ear to keep it out of her face, but not long enough that it stays there for more than two seconds.
She brushes her hair away from her face and delicately bites the end off a single french fry, dabs it carefully in ketchup, and bites again, luxuriating in the salt and grease. Tonight, she’d wield her fork and knife like a surgeon over a roasted quail and rice pilaf at her favorite restaurant. She needs to treat herself after that whole scene.
But this afternoon, she eats her fries gracefully in the middle of the food court while scribbling your name in a notebook. On the seventh try, she has a signature she thinks feels natural. She repeats it a few more times, then pulls out her phone and takes a photo. She texts the signature to Joel.
“When do you think you could come up with an id for me?” she writes.
Dots on a text bubble whir, and then: “You can pick it up Friday.”
“Cool.” She’s worked with Joel for a few years now. Would recommend when you need to pass off a check that’s not yours.
“How’d you get this chump?” Joel texts back. That’s the one drawback about Joel. He’s pretty nosy. She knows he’s not a cop, but still. If he didn’t do such good work, she wouldn’t humor him with the details.
“Not a scam this time,” she texts back. “Got it off a body.”
“Whaaaaaaaaat,” Joel texts. Yeah. That many A’s. And yet, still not enough.
“Honestly kind of rattled,” she texts Joel. “I was more in the mood for shoplifting than grifting today. Went to the mall. Parked in the back because nobody parks in the back. And there’s this ducking body in a dumpster.
“Fucking body. Stupid autocorrect.
“I search the pockets and there’s this check. Not gonna let that go to waste.”
“In a dumpster??????” Joel texts. “Could you tell what killed them?”
“It looked like their throat got cut.”
“No clues as to who did it, or why?”
“What am I, a fucking coroner?”
“I guess we’ll never know.”
“Probably not. But I tell you what I do know.”
“What?”
“I’m getting a damn good dinner tonight to make up for rummaging a dumpster corpse’s pockets.”
“Hell yeah.”
11 Jan 2021
Today’s prompt: “The glow of success”
In your killer’s case, the glow of success looks an awful lot like the light of the full moon glinting off of his ritualistic daggers. At least, off the parts of them that aren’t so coated in blood as to no longer be shiny.