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Blustering
The nucleus looked straight to its peer, which was visibly stoked. Around it, the electrons were orbiting at an incredible speed, and the swooshes they made was deafening.
“You want to share what?” it said to the other.
”One of your electrons. It won’t last long. Just, you know, time for a quick liaison,” the other replied, smiling in an alluring way.
The first atom recoiled a femtometer. “Whom do you think I am?” it protested. ”Liaison? I get you’re a free radical, ready to break the moors when things get a little hot. I’m not in that sort of things. I need stable, covalent bonds. No, I will never share one of my precious little pets with you.”
“You are so stiff.” The other one frowned. “If you don’t give me that electron, I swear I’ll… I’ll… ionise you!”
“Wow!” said the first one, “I’m positively scared. What will do you? Fire your Brownian at me?”
“Quit ironising!” the second grunted.
“May I remind you I’m an iron atom?”
”Oh come on, you’re such a drag with your rusty puns. Keep your electrons all right, I’m sure I can find someone much more fun than you.” It did an about-face and moved away.
“Goodbye, boron!” the iron atom yelled as the other disappeared in the distance.
“What do you want?” the ant asked.
“Food. Please!” the locust at the threshold begged. “Crumb of bread? Grains of corn? Blade of grass? I don't ask for much, but you can't decently let me starve in this icy weather, if you have a heart!”
“And what were you busy with when corn was ripe and fruits juicy?” the ant replied sternly.
“I? Oh… Let me think about it… I think I was singing.”
“It’s been about three centuries!” the ant exclaimed. “You still didn’t figure out you’re a terrible singer? Why do you think no one hires you and you’re bound to spend every winter on the breadline? Mmh? Still dreaming of Broadway? Come off it! Find a real job!”
The locust looked daggers at the ant. “Oh yeah? Well, if you don’t give me at least a speck of food each week, I swear I won’t budge from here and sing day and night until you’re so fed up you cave in.”
The ant pouted. “Go ahead!” it said, and slammed the door shut.
“LALALALALALA!” the locust began.
The strident voice swathed around the ant’s house and shimmied up along the trunk and the logs of the old poplar it was carved in, until it reached the nest of a couple of sparrows.
“LALALALARRRRGGG!…” the ant heard, as it poked the embers in the fireplace.
It shrugged.
God sighed as the Devil, almost in stitches, raked all the tokens that lay on the table. Each one, with a different galaxy painted on it, represented uncountable individual souls. Zillions of souls now damned because of that darn threesome of dice and the rotten luck He’d had since the game had begun.
The shape of His adversary, sitting opposite to Him at the table, was almost hidden behind the huge heaps of tokens piled up in front of him. Only the tips of his horns, rocking with each of their owner's fit of laughter, still clearly emerged.
God glanced sullenly at the table. He had one last token – a minor, round one with a blue planet drawn on it. What should He do with it?
He felt a sudden rage well up in Him.
“ARMAGEDDON!” He cried.
“What?” the Devil blurted.
Saint George rushed to God's side. “Lord,” he whispered to His ear, “Are you sure—”
“Shut up George!” God snapped. “Do you have any other idea to recover all those lost souls?”
“Lord, the Holy Spirit suggests—”
“To Hell with the Holy Spirit!” God groaned.
“No, not it. It’s so boring!” The Devil chortled.
God didn’t answer. He grasped the three dice and tossed them on the table. They rolled on and on.
On and on.
God snapped His fingers. The dice froze.
“1 1 3” God announced with a big smile. “Seems I’m in luck again!”
He put the two “1” aside, picked up the “3” and re-rolled it. It settled on “1”.
God exulted. “1 1 1! In two rounds!” he boasted. “Try to beat that!”
The Devil picked up the dice wordlessly. He tossed them. They landed on 4, 2 and 2.
God’s smile died out.
The Devil threw a 2 die again. It stopped on—
“You want to share what?” it said to the other.
”One of your electrons. It won’t last long. Just, you know, time for a quick liaison,” the other replied, smiling in an alluring way.
The first atom recoiled a femtometer. “Whom do you think I am?” it protested. ”Liaison? I get you’re a free radical, ready to break the moors when things get a little hot. I’m not in that sort of things. I need stable, covalent bonds. No, I will never share one of my precious little pets with you.”
“You are so stiff.” The other one frowned. “If you don’t give me that electron, I swear I’ll… I’ll… ionise you!”
“Wow!” said the first one, “I’m positively scared. What will do you? Fire your Brownian at me?”
“Quit ironising!” the second grunted.
“May I remind you I’m an iron atom?”
”Oh come on, you’re such a drag with your rusty puns. Keep your electrons all right, I’m sure I can find someone much more fun than you.” It did an about-face and moved away.
“Goodbye, boron!” the iron atom yelled as the other disappeared in the distance.
***
“What do you want?” the ant asked.
“Food. Please!” the locust at the threshold begged. “Crumb of bread? Grains of corn? Blade of grass? I don't ask for much, but you can't decently let me starve in this icy weather, if you have a heart!”
“And what were you busy with when corn was ripe and fruits juicy?” the ant replied sternly.
“I? Oh… Let me think about it… I think I was singing.”
“It’s been about three centuries!” the ant exclaimed. “You still didn’t figure out you’re a terrible singer? Why do you think no one hires you and you’re bound to spend every winter on the breadline? Mmh? Still dreaming of Broadway? Come off it! Find a real job!”
The locust looked daggers at the ant. “Oh yeah? Well, if you don’t give me at least a speck of food each week, I swear I won’t budge from here and sing day and night until you’re so fed up you cave in.”
The ant pouted. “Go ahead!” it said, and slammed the door shut.
“LALALALALALA!” the locust began.
The strident voice swathed around the ant’s house and shimmied up along the trunk and the logs of the old poplar it was carved in, until it reached the nest of a couple of sparrows.
“LALALALARRRRGGG!…” the ant heard, as it poked the embers in the fireplace.
It shrugged.
***
God sighed as the Devil, almost in stitches, raked all the tokens that lay on the table. Each one, with a different galaxy painted on it, represented uncountable individual souls. Zillions of souls now damned because of that darn threesome of dice and the rotten luck He’d had since the game had begun.
The shape of His adversary, sitting opposite to Him at the table, was almost hidden behind the huge heaps of tokens piled up in front of him. Only the tips of his horns, rocking with each of their owner's fit of laughter, still clearly emerged.
God glanced sullenly at the table. He had one last token – a minor, round one with a blue planet drawn on it. What should He do with it?
He felt a sudden rage well up in Him.
“ARMAGEDDON!” He cried.
“What?” the Devil blurted.
Saint George rushed to God's side. “Lord,” he whispered to His ear, “Are you sure—”
“Shut up George!” God snapped. “Do you have any other idea to recover all those lost souls?”
“Lord, the Holy Spirit suggests—”
“To Hell with the Holy Spirit!” God groaned.
“No, not it. It’s so boring!” The Devil chortled.
God didn’t answer. He grasped the three dice and tossed them on the table. They rolled on and on.
On and on.
God snapped His fingers. The dice froze.
“1 1 3” God announced with a big smile. “Seems I’m in luck again!”
He put the two “1” aside, picked up the “3” and re-rolled it. It settled on “1”.
God exulted. “1 1 1! In two rounds!” he boasted. “Try to beat that!”
The Devil picked up the dice wordlessly. He tossed them. They landed on 4, 2 and 2.
God’s smile died out.
The Devil threw a 2 die again. It stopped on—
Haven't you heard, Author? God doesn't place dice with the universe.
Honestly, I'm having trouble finding a point to this. I'm not seeing a thread tying the three chunks together, and the jokes are... eh. Just not doing it for me. A few of the chemistry ones were clever-ish.
Besides, I really can't get behind God and Devil as comic figures very easily. I need to be laughing hard enough to cry streams of tears which can pressure-wash a small car if you're writing figures with that much narrative weight behind them as comic relief.
But, well, humor is very variable. Perhaps other people will find a compelling meaning here or be more in-line with the humor.
Honestly, I'm having trouble finding a point to this. I'm not seeing a thread tying the three chunks together, and the jokes are... eh. Just not doing it for me. A few of the chemistry ones were clever-ish.
Besides, I really can't get behind God and Devil as comic figures very easily. I need to be laughing hard enough to cry streams of tears which can pressure-wash a small car if you're writing figures with that much narrative weight behind them as comic relief.
But, well, humor is very variable. Perhaps other people will find a compelling meaning here or be more in-line with the humor.
I thought the three stories were clever in their own right, each giving three instances where recklessness is punished (to a degree). It may not be completely unified, but it offers up three smaller stories, and I can appreciate that.
If there is something more going on, though, then I missed it completely.
If there is something more going on, though, then I missed it completely.
Author, it's not your fault -- not really -- that a scientific nitpick knocked me out of this story on sentence two, but the Bohr model of the atom -- with discrete spherical electrons whirling around the nucleus like planets around the Sun -- became outdated as early as 1927 with the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. I mean, yes, you're just taking a whimsical scenario to make a comic point, and it shouldn't bother me -- there's really nothing any wronger about talking Bohr-model atoms than there is about talking insects or anthropomorphic deities -- but it just felt weird seeing outdated science as the first element of a cold open. That, I think, is totally on me.
I'm not sure I can say how funny I would have found this if I hadn't been knocked out of engagement before I could even properly start reading, so take this with a grain of salt, but my reaction to the comedy here was for the most part "Eh." I think the best joke of the lot was the off-screen fate of the locust. I had to go look up "ironising" so that pun sorta fell flat.
I wish that the three sections here had shared more than just a thematic connection. (If there IS more than just a thematic connection, someone please correct me, because I missed it.) The structure of the piece -- and the Rule of Three -- suggest some sort of buildup to a punchline or subversion or recontextualization that never happens, and that false sense of connection leaves the piece as a whole a little stranded for me.
So, mostly: Eh. I'm not sure whether to middle-slate this or take an abstention. I think that I've got enough other reservations about the piece that I feel comfortable voting. I can see things it does right and things it stumbles on and the overall effect feels sort of half-baked in a way that I'm not sure I can provide much useful feedback on.
(Also, I really wish I knew the rules of the dice game in the last section so that I had any significance to the two players' rolls. I get the joke, and the reason behind the mid-sentence stop, but that requires support from so much reading between the lines that the mental processing distracted me from the humor.)
Tier: Almost There?
I'm not sure I can say how funny I would have found this if I hadn't been knocked out of engagement before I could even properly start reading, so take this with a grain of salt, but my reaction to the comedy here was for the most part "Eh." I think the best joke of the lot was the off-screen fate of the locust. I had to go look up "ironising" so that pun sorta fell flat.
I wish that the three sections here had shared more than just a thematic connection. (If there IS more than just a thematic connection, someone please correct me, because I missed it.) The structure of the piece -- and the Rule of Three -- suggest some sort of buildup to a punchline or subversion or recontextualization that never happens, and that false sense of connection leaves the piece as a whole a little stranded for me.
So, mostly: Eh. I'm not sure whether to middle-slate this or take an abstention. I think that I've got enough other reservations about the piece that I feel comfortable voting. I can see things it does right and things it stumbles on and the overall effect feels sort of half-baked in a way that I'm not sure I can provide much useful feedback on.
(Also, I really wish I knew the rules of the dice game in the last section so that I had any significance to the two players' rolls. I get the joke, and the reason behind the mid-sentence stop, but that requires support from so much reading between the lines that the mental processing distracted me from the humor.)
Tier: Almost There?
I kind of feel that the connection between the vignettes is a bit too tenuous to keep the story together. I don't see much of a common thread aside from foolishness being present at every level, and while this is something I can get behind, it isn't enough.
A bit of polishing and a tighter thematic unity will do wonders for it, there is something good here that only needs a bit of extra work.
The second scene, in particular, was the best one, almost perfectly self-contained.
A bit of polishing and a tighter thematic unity will do wonders for it, there is something good here that only needs a bit of extra work.
The second scene, in particular, was the best one, almost perfectly self-contained.
