Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na

“The criminals haunt this city like ghosts,” the Commissioner said.  “We’re trapped in this maze, and we just run around and around and never get anywhere.”

“But sir!  Do we really need to call... him?”  The young constable swallowed heavily.  “He’s... outside the law.  They say he can’t die.  They say... they say he eats...”

“Silence!”  The Commissioner snapped.  “This ends tonight.  I won’t follow the dotted lines any longer.  That will be his job now.”

He switched the light on, sending the golden disc up onto the clouds.  The yellow circle with one sixth missing, like an open mouth...

The Ballad of Klorahks

"There's a terrible ochre that lives in that cave," said Sir Gallant, the White Knight.

"A what?"

"He's beaten a merchant's train black and blue.  The watchmen caught him red-handed.  We'll have to draw him out.  When he's more readier, we'll clash for sure.   Not you; you're too green yet.  But he'll show his true colors.  His type bleeds easily, and that kind of cowardice doesn't come off in the wash."  Sir Gallant handed his squire a small bottle.  "That's when you'll need to use that."

"What is it, sir?"

"Bleach with color guard.  It'll stop him from running."

RaPUNzel

The handsome prince stared up at the tower window. "Are you going to do it properly this time?" he called.

"Yes."

"Not just trim off a lock and toss it down?"

"No."

"Not apologizing to your hair for failing to brush it?"

"It wouldn't be funny the second time."

"Right." The prince cleared his throat. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair."

There was a descending scream and a thump as something long-limbed and gray-furred landed heavily in the roses. After a brief struggle to free itself, the hare bounded into the night.

From above came the sound of smothered laughter.

Uplifted

The clown gamboled through the park, trailing balloons and streamers. "Joy!" he cried out. "Elation!"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I give the gift of levity," he told me. "Say the word, and you will fly as high as my balloons."

I considered my bare pockets and the cold and empty apartment that awaited me. "Sure," I said. As soon as the words left my mouth, my stomach lurched and I began to float away.

"How do I get down again?" I called to the rapidly receding clown.

His eyes glinted beneath his makeup. "Perhaps you misunderstood the offer."

Peripherals

"Ouch!" I stuck my finger in my mouth and tasted blood. "Damned thing bit me."

"Software conflict," Steve said. "Probably. And now it's run off."

"Maybe the wireless mouse isn't the way to go," I said. "At least when it was on that silly leash, it couldn't get away."

Something hissed. "I think the cat ate it."

"Which one? That's five-cat cable, you know."

The monitor on the desktop turned its scaly head toward me and flicked its tongue twice. "You already had your crickets today," I told it. "Don't give me any lip. I could make you a flatscreen."

Hippotherapist

"Thanks for coming with me," said Val. "I'm just so nervous."

I shrugged. "I don't think there's much to worry about. Hypnotism isn't mind control."

"What-ism?" Val paused with his hand on the doorknob.

"I thought you said you were going to a hypnotherapist? You wanted to stop smoking, right?"

"Hypno? With an 'n'? Are you sure?"

"Yes," I laughed. "It's definitely got the 'n' in there. From 'hypnos,' the Greek word for sleep. Because of the trance."

From inside the office, there came a soft splashing noise and the creaking of a wooden chair under a terrible strain...

Gratuitous

"This is weird," said Hank.

Chuck leaned over. "What is?"

"The receipt. See, it says, 'Gratuity.'"

Chuck laughed. "That just means the tip, dude. How the hell did you ever pass your SATs?"

"No, I know that. But the blank is already filled in. Look." Hank pointed.

"'Gratuity: Nudity.' Hunh."

"Oopsies!" giggled the buxom waitress. She clutched at her fallen blouse. Perky pink flesh jiggled everywhere Chuck and Hank looked. "Silly me! I forgot to button my shirt! Or wear a bra!"

They watched her wiggle away. "We need to leave," Chuck said quietly.

"Dude, what? Why!?"

"Mine says 'Violence.'"

What's in a Name?

The Young Master was heading out into the world to do his great deeds. The household gathered to confer their gifts upon him.

"These seeds will grow strong and healthy plants for you, wherever you settle," said Mr. Green.

"I have forged this dagger, so that you may never be unarmed," said Mr. Smith.

"This woven bags will hold everything you will ever need, and more," said Mrs. Webb.

Mr. Cox cleared his throat. "I have-" He paused as the others snickered and blushed. "Oh, for pity's sake!" he snapped. "It's a chicken. A chicken! You people are utterly childish!"

Burning Sensation

"Ye gods!" Rythia leapt nimbly back, drawing her useless blade.

All around them, tiny holes in the ground spilled out thousands of tiny lights, like stars brought to earth. They crept in meandering lines toward the small rise where Rythia and Loachim had made their camp, leaving blazing trails behind them.

"What is this?" Loachim snorted, tusks gnashing. He grasped their diminutive native guide on the shoulder. "Speak!"

"Just know," Rythia interjected, swatting experimentally at the ground with her rapier, "if you say 'fire ants,' then so help me gods, I will gut you where you stand and feel nothing."

Ave Caesar!

The salad wailed when it was placed on the table.  "I do not like yon Cassie; she has a lean and hungry look," it said.

Cassandra stabbed several leaves and a crouton with her fork.  "Aiee, et, too?" the salad cried as she chewed.

"How's your sandwich?" she asked Borden.  Borden did not answer.  He lay face down on the table, a bloody knot visible on the back of his head.  The burly man behind him leaned forward and gently placed a knotty wooden club on the table beside a scoop of coleslaw.

"I'm fine, thanks," the club-wielding man said.

Official

The filing cabinet blew on her fingernails. They could, she decided, still use some buffing.

"Come on, baby," said the swiveling chair. "He'll be gone for a month. He doesn't need to know."

"That's the seventeenth attempt he's made this week," the accounting books remarked. The water cooler hooded his eyes and tried to look detached and aloof.

"We saw," said the computer monitor.

"Woah! WOAH! AAAAAaaaaah!" Something flushed and fluttery barreled out of the managerial offices, tumbled headfirst to the floor, and skidded out into the hall.

"What was that?" asked the fax.

"Pink slip," said the answering machine.

Swoosh

The store was filled with the sounds of rapid, panting breath and the wzzzk-wzzzk-wzzzk of running legs.

"This is the athletic section," said the clerk. "We've got running shoes, jogging shoes, sprinting shoes, walking shoes, even a small selection of running shorts."

A pair of these last trotted past, waddling to keep its crotch from touching the ground between steps. The boxes on the shelves rattled and shook with the repressed energy of the shoes within.

"Mind your step as we head into the next area..."

"Gwah!" I shouted as my legs flew from beneath me.

"Slippers," the clerk explained.

E I E I O

"Hi!" said the muscular youth. "The sign out front said you needed a hand for the summer?"

The old man puffed on his pipe. "Well," he said, "can you follow rules?"

"Sir?"

"There's a double-trunked tree in the field out back. The earth has been recently disturbed at its roots. Never dig there."

"Okay, well..."

"The attic room is locked. No matter what you may hear in there, never open it."

"That's fine; I hate heights..."

"And I don't speak of my younger days, so never ask me."

"Can you at least tell me your name?"

"They call me... MacGuffin."

Children of Power, Children of Fate

Long one today, based on an offhand comment from Mur Lafferty. I apologize in advance, as this story contains not just a pun, but a raunchy pun. I'll let myself out the back way and see about that suicide now, shall I?

They thought it would change the world, and it did, in some ways. But eventually things settled down, as they do, and everyone found that life carried on. It ended up as just another pickup line, like "What's your sign?" At least it didn't bring disco back (except for poor Stuart, who never figured out how to turn his abilities off and ended up hanging himself to the strains of KC and the Sunshine Band.)

It was more than that to me, but until now, my quest had been fruitless. "So what's your power?"

"I can reshape liquids into cats and bring them to life." She flicked a bored glance my way, but paused when she saw my stunned expression. "What?"

"Follow me." We went outside, to the mouth of the alley, where – as usual – a handful of strays were browsing on garbage from the sushi joint next door. "I don't usually do this, you understand? But this can't be just a coincidence."

"What is it?"

I pointed to a small gray tiger-tabby, and the terrible dark energy crackled from my fingertips. The cat gave a small "mew" and collapsed into a gray-and-black puddle. I turned to the girl. "Try it now. Please."

She gave me a wide-eyed stare, then knelt and touched the puddle of cat. It bristled, grew furry, and, with a soft chime, became a gray cat that gazed at us with a mixture of confusion and disdain before leaping to rejoin its companions.

The woman stood and met my gaze. "This... it's like destiny."

"I don't normally ask women home on a first date," I said, "but I've been saving Mister Scruffles in an old milk jug. When my powers manifested I... he... and I couldn't help him..." To my embarrassment, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I turned away. "I'm sorry."

"Shh," she said. "I think it's sweet. C'mon. I'll pay the subway fare."

"You will? I mean, you'll come and help him?"

"Of course! It's not every day you meet a man who can make a pussy wet from across the room."

Super

"Right up there, it's leaking. Can you see it?" Linda joggled the baby in her arms.

"Ayup," said Mr. Bridges. "I'll get that fixed right up. Mind yer boy's eyes for a sec."

"What?" Linda said, then gasped. Mr. Bridges lowered his glasses and shot twin beams of energy out of his eyes, sealing the leaky pipe instantly.

"Comes with the job, see?" said Mr. Bridges. "I'm the super."

"Shouldn't you work for the government or something?"

"Nah. Told you, it's the job. Superman's only super under the yellow sun, right? Me, I got my building to take care of."

Djinn Fizz

Browning tried not to stare at the blue, glowing man three seats down. Reese slid Browning his usual Scotch, then plopped a glass before the blue man. He cleared his throat. The blue man sighed and handed what looked like a brass gravy bowl to Reese.

"I wish the glasses were clean," Reese intoned gravely. The blue man winced. There was a clatter and a faint smell of soap. Reese returned the brass object, and the blue man downed his drink in a single gulp.

Browning caught at Reese's sleeve. "So what's he drinking?"

Reese raised an eyebrow. "Whattaya think?"

Bone Spur

The clattering bones stretched overhead, looking like an endless ivory slope. "This isn't even the mountain range," said Yalta. "Only a spur. A small one."

We groaned and trudged on, up the unstable surface of the switchback. "We must be careful," Yalta told us. "The slightest misstep could trigger a skullquake. if we move flawlessly, we may be caught in a downpour."

"I thought you said these were dormant?"

"No new bones for many years, but sometimes still they fall. None knows why. Still, be of good cheer," Yalta advised us. "This part is easy."

"Why? What's next?"

"Viscera Bog."

Normalized

"Hey," said a piping voice.

I looked down. He was a perfect miniature of a middle-aged man, with a receding hairline, slacks, and a powder-blue shirt. He looked like an office manager, not a hiker.

"I'm Norm," he said.

"I'm lost," I told him. "I need to find the highway."

"No!" said Norm. "You should stay!"

"No, I-"

"Hey!" Three more copies of Norm appeared, varying in size. A full-size version loomed behind them.

"Don't fuss," said the big Norm. "We can tell you'll fit right in."

I looked down. My shirt was already fading to a light, soothing powder-blue...

Cobbler

The little old man with the extravagant mustache remained in his elegant, obsolete shop, serving his dwindling customers as best he could. They left with mended shoes and a bounce in their steps that they couldn’t quite explain, a cheerful, joyous, expansive sensation. Panhandlers knew the blocks around the shop as better than average, though they’d never have guessed why.

The only clue was the hand-lettered placard below the shop’s name in the big window. Most chuckled when they read it. He’d expected as much, but he was incapable of deception, even by omission. It read: “Shoes repaired. Souls resurfaced.”

Anti Up

Steve was born to play cards.

Everyone has their gifts, of course. The great tinkerers build and destroy. The great lovers inflame and soothe. The great orators rise to lead. But Steve was born to the cards, and they danced in his fingers like live things.

When the Destroyer came, its swarms flitting to swallow stars, the tinkerers argued about weaponry. The lovers clung to their latest conquests as the orators goaded Earth's armies into a hopeless stand.

The Destroyer found Steve waiting among the ice dwarfs.

"Let's talk wagers," said Steve, and his cards rippled in the cold light.