Friday Fictioneers – I Hate This Job

Here’s your latest installment of Friday Fictioneers. I will have other stories coming up soon, since it is Lunar New Year and I’m not being swamped with utter and complete stupidity.

copyright Claire Fuller

I Hate This Job

“What the heck is going on out there?” Mr. Dworkin called out from his office.

The shop was all quiet except for a solitary robot, working at a CNC lathe.

“Hey! You! Lathe-boy! Where did everyone go?”

The robot kept working on the lathe, paying the old man no mind.

“Well, whatever you do, don’t be smoking on the job. We have wood in this place.”

Just as Mr. Dworkin sat down again, the head of the robot popped off and smoke started to fill the workshop. He looked up, and growled.

“Lathe-Boy, you’re smoking again, aren’t you?!?!?!”

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Friday Fictioneers: Terrace Gardening

Welcome to Friday Fictioneers at Music and Fiction. Not much music today, but you definitely get the fiction!

copyright – Bjorn Rudberg

Terrace Gardening

“Heya, Pete.”

“Yo, Charlie.”

“Getting ready for the new harvest season?”

“Yep.”

“Any major plans on what you’re planting?”

“Nope.”

“Can I throw my toilet waste down the back of your hill?”

“Sure.”

Charlie looked at Pete funny, and waited for a response. After a minute of no words, he got fed up.

“I thought you’d be mad.”

“Mad? For free fertilizer for my crops? Add goat manure, and it’s a sure bumper crop!”

Charlie frowned.

“Foiled again!”

Intimate Strangers

by Miles Rost

From the diary of Richard Sullivan

With the plop of papers into my basket, I was done with my day.

I slid on my leather trenchcoat as I stood up from the desk. It had rained earlier in the day, and it helped to keep my clothes dry. I looked at the papers on my desk, sitting neatly in the basket in which I plopped them down. A typical Thursday evening, everything was ready for tomorrow morning, and I would be on my way home.

I walked out of my building, and onto the sidewalk. I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second as I looked towards the sinking sun in the northwestern sky. The heaviness that was in my heart, in my hands, had come back to sit down upon things.

My thoughts turned from work and work issues to the burden on my shoulders. As the heaviness in my heart spread, the indicator that I was being “called” came up. As I felt the stiffness and the aching in my index fingers, and knew that she was the one in trouble.

I walked towards my home and I focused my thoughts inwards. I took many deep breaths as I walked slowly towards my one-bedroom apartment. I searched deep within my heart to see what was going on, what the problem was.

She has been there for the longest time. I’m not sure who she is, as I have never met this woman. It’s unusual, because I normally wouldn’t connect with someone I don’t know. But, I can sense her in my heart and in my indicators. I feel as though she is not doing very well today. When this happens, I think about the things that I can do from here.

In the time since I left work, have been thinking about this woman, and arrived outside my apartment, it’s been about 25 minutes. Walking is a great thing as it clears one’s head. However, to be honest, I didn’t feel much clearing today, especially in regards to her.

I walked into my apartment and set my things down. After taking a shotglass of water and downing it, I sat on the edge of my bed and started to pray. In this case, it’s the only thing I can do. I don’t know where she is, so I cannot be near her. I know that my prayers, however, will allow her comfort. That she will be shown love in a way that’s totally different from anything.

This woman and I are intimate strangers. We are connected in a way that no one could even fathom, and yet we have never met. And I hope that sometime in the very near future, I’ll be able to see her and that we’ll both know that we’re the ones. This is my hope and prayer.