I want to know... [17 Dec 2009|12:19pm] maniccartoonist What do YOU want for Christmas? screened, cause it's just between you, me, and Santa! post comment

[15 Dec 2009|06:43pm] chuck_the_plant Maybe the only reason I'm scared to get married... Every married person I know on Facebook never updates their status or tell about their lives... the only thing they ever contribute are constant, thrice-a-day blurbs about dumbass Facebook games. "Joe Schmoe has found a lonely brown cow in farmville!" "That-girl-you-went-to-high-school-with-who-married-too-early needs help moving some cash in mafia wars! "That-guy-you-haven't-heard-from-in-years has found a treasure and want to share it with you!" Seriously... that's all that's going on in their married lives? If I'm ever that complacent and despondant this time next year, please do me a favor and shoot me. 3 comments|post comment

My first Brigit's Flame entry! Just for fun - "Scratch" [14 Dec 2009|10:27pm] chuck_the_plant The workroom was a little colder than usual. Not that a difference of a few degrees ever made a difference one way or the other… only that I would wrap my scarf around my neck a little bit tighter, perhaps pull the candle a bit closer to myself. God forbid if I had to throw another lump on coal into the hearth. Coal was expensive, after all, especially this time of the year. It had occurred to me in the previous March to buy up enough coal for the winter to then, when it was nice and inexpensive, but then I was forced to factor into the equation the cost of buying or renting a place to store it all, carrying it all back and forth from the storehouse to the workroom. In the end, there had been too many variables, too many things to consider for me to deem it worthy of my attention at the time. Now, I wish I hadn’t brushed off the idea so quickly. Of course, last March had been a busy month… there had been several good investment opportunities that, left unattended, would have slipped beneath my spats, and then where would I be now? But if only I could have revisited the idea in June or July, when coal prices hit rock-bottom… “Heh,” I allowed myself a chuckle at my own joke, puffing into a cloud in the cold of the workroom, making the candle on my desk flicker on its wick. “Rock bottom.” “Did you say something, sir?” My only worker said, looking up from the pile of calculations for the first time in hours. I blinked at him, the candlelight temporarily filling the lenses of my bifocals, the lower portion of them turning my vision orange as the jumping of the candle calmed. The pile on his desk hadn’t decreased in size at nearly the rate I had anticipated. “Nothing that should keep you from your work, Cratchet,” I replied. As quick as if the moment had never happened, Cratchet was back to work at his ledgers. I ran my left hand down my face, and only when it touched the warm, sallow skin of my cheeks did I realize how cold my hands were. But I couldn’t waste the time thinking of adding more coal to the fire… because, if the ledgers Cratchet had already finished were any indication, this years profits weren’t going to be anywhere near what I had forecasted them to be. In fact, they were barely going to scratch the surface. “Excuse me, sir,” Cratchet said. I was about to bark a warning word at him for disturbing me and leaving his work so soon again, until I noticed the candles at both of our desks had burned to near stumps; I had been looking at finished ledgers for hours since our last words. “Yes, Cratchet?” I asked, dipping my pen into its inkwell for another refill without looking at him. “Well, sir…” he began, twisting his beaten old bowler hat into his hands. I knew he wanted something; he always did that when he wanted something. “As you probably know, it’s Christmas eve… and I was wondering if I could…” his voice lowered considerably. “… have tomorrow off, to spend with my family.” I ground my teeth. The last thing I needed, with as behind in the ledgers as I already was and the way the years profits were shaping up, was for my worker to take a day off for some trivial family matter. “Cratchet,” I began. “Have you at all been looking at those ledgers as you’ve been working on them?” Cratchet seemed confused. “Of course, sir,” he replied after a second of thinking. “I take great pride in my work, and…” “Then you know how terribly important that these be finished in a prompt manner,” I said back, biting my words off short. “An oversight a man who takes pride in his work would not overlook.” Cratchet shrank under my words. “I realize that, sir,” he said. “But Christmas is ever so important to my wife and children. It would mean so much to them if I could be with them.” Suppressing a groan, I tried to run the numbers in my head. If Cratchet were gone tomorrow, the ledgers wouldn’t get finished, but I wouldn’t have to pay him… and then I could have him work overtime on New Year’s Eve, calculating that the New Year started a new pay week and wouldn’t count towards his overtime… “Fine,” I spat. “But you’ll work overtime on New Year’s Eve to make up for it.” I tried to conceal my smile at Cratchet’s elation; the man hadn’t figured that it was cheaper for me to have him off tomorrow than make him come to work. “Bless you, Mister Scrooge! Bless you, bless you!” He dashed back to his desk, blew out his candle, and crammed his hat onto his head. I, too, was shouldering into my jacket as Cratchet gathered his things and rounded to the middle of the workroom. I certainly wasn’t going to put in any more hours if Cratchet wasn’t going to hand me any more completed ledgers. “Bless you again, Mister Scrooge! May visions of sugarplums dance through your dreams!” Cratchet cooed as he danced through the front door. An icy breeze blew in just as I placed my own top hat upon my head.” “Feh,” I scoffed, following the now-insufferable man out the door and locking it with my big brass key. “I don’t see myself having any dreams tonight, Cratchet. Unless they have to do with completed ledgers.” 4 comments|post comment

Brigits Flame Writing Community, Dec. 2009, week 2 [13 Dec 2009|11:19am] maniccartoonist Brigits Flame Writing Community December 2009 – Week 2 Prompt: “Hustler” Title: “The Gray Hat” “Swear on my mother’s grave!” Humphrey spat when he talked, especially when he was bargaining. Rom wiped the spittle from his face and rubbed his chin. “Humphrey, this is the same old grey hat you tried to peddle off on me last night!” ( Read more... ) 2 comments|post comment

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