March 2017 75-word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY TO DAVID EVIL OVERLORD!

[Mr Orange]

Working it on New Britain (Epsilon 456-K)


"Immigrants from Earth are 'ere, Sir."

"Jolly good. Condensation tunnels are way behind and we haven't even started on the second reactor. European?"

" Amexicanadians."

"Sigh. Oh well, get them processed."

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"Sir, we 'ave a problem with the immigrants. Switch to tunnel AV feed. "

"Why on New Britain are they shaking their behinds like that? What did you say to them?"

'Dunno, Sir, all's I did was tell them to get t' working."

 

[Vaz]

A Bit of Patchwork

Ghand worked her hands, the snick click of the needles chattering as she stitched.

The boy mewled, Grohn gave him Maids Milk for the pain but it was watered down, to make it last.

Ghand sealed the red crescent moon over his ribs. She could stitch these boys shut, but did their wars claim other pieces, ones untouched by string or needle?

She shrugged. Candlelight winked on the bowl of crimson coins.

War was business.

 

[The Judge]

What A Piece of Work...


I take pride in my work.

Head Chef in the Imperial Kitchens – Head Poisoner as occasion demands – is an exacting position, requiring finesse. My now-executed predecessor was inelegant, serving elfbane to the Sindari. A dozen dead elves slumped over tables is not a good look at a banquet.

Admittedly, he believed rousmar in the consommé would retard the elfbane’s effects, disarming suspicion of the Emperor’s perfidy.

Pity I didn’t add it as he instructed.

 

[Andrew Lambert]

She stretched, so glad to have shed the human epidermis for her natural form. She couldn’t switch it on and off like the others, her physiology was just too different and needed special attention. Phase shift manipulation and epidermic encasement weren't quick processes, but the end result was superior to theirs. Time to get to work. She studied her prey. An evening of entertainment, before changing back.

 

[Ursa major]

Nancy Drew, Eat Your Central Processor Out​

We write books for boys on a ‘work for hire’ basis.

“We’re serial offenders, Joe,” says Frank. “And it’s pure corn, so we’re also cereal offenders.” Typical Frank humour.

I call us Franken-eye… because we share a visual feed….

“Tell them our new book is out now, Joe.”

Of course it is: we produce them hourly. We’re not called the Hardy Bots for nothing. (Okay, we are. Author-bots are charged, not paid….)

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[Phyrebrat]

Die Glocke

When The Reich put him through university, he hadn’t imagined it would end in this job.

‘Dr Heim, your subject’s ready,’ his assistant said.

He pushed through chill air, avoiding the terrified eyes bulging from the face on the table.

He began.

###

Driving home, the empty midnight road disappeared under the bonnet.

An illuminated bell dropped from the sky.

Affixed in a beam of coherent light, Heim floated through the automobile’s roof.

###

His eyes bulged.

 

[Aine]

The Last Job

“This is the end of it, then.”

Richie had returned three weeks earlier, grey in his hair, but the same sparkle in his eyes. The same grip of my hand.

“One last job,” he said, “A big one. I need you,” and I (retired at twenty-eight) couldn’t say no, so we went to work. Spaceships didn’t rob themselves.

Lights of army ships twinkled through the window. I never thought death would look like fireflies.

 

[Ursa major]

This challenge is now closed to new entries.

Voting is now open at the link below:

POLL -- March 2017 75-Word Challenge -- READ FIRST POST!

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[Ursa major]

We have a tie this month, and the tie-breaker poll is up. It will be open until 23:59 on March the 30th 2017:

Tiebreaker Poll -- March 2017 Writing Challenge

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