It is garbage pickup day in Cambridge.
The empty bins are dancing in the street, rolling hither and yon, blown by the blustery gusts of wind, wind that has driven unimpeded from the icy Canadian tundra.
Neighbor corrals bin for neighbor; trash is secured house by house; the community thrives.
Martin Evans is an escapee from academia where he thrived for 35 years. He now potters around Cambridge, so he really didn’t escape academia!
47 relatives, immediate or otherwise
1 cake (number of layers may vary)
1 pair of shoes
1 pair of cold feet
1 chance, not taken
Combine ingredients, chill to serve.
Anna likes socks, notebooks, tea, and microfiction. She lives in Germany.
“How is your new job?” A crumb escapes, falling.
“I am thankful to have one.” Careful, collected, but unable to avoid my family’s stream of questions. I reflect, the way my bargain-bin cassette instructed.
A miniature rake scrapes across the artificial garden on my desk. A grain of sand escapes.
Raphael Bastek is a Polish-American office worker. He lives with his beloved cat, Yuna.
He stood amid chaos, tumult, and noise, hearing nothing.
A voice passed through his mind. “Speak your wish, and your hearing can be restored to you.”
He looked around him, at the lights, movement, and stone-eyed faces. “Do not restore my hearing,” he said. “Please take my sight, as well.”
This story is based on a title suggested by @PanzerVaughn.
“I never expected to broadcast from a place like this! I’m standing amid chaos, and I can’t help but wonder if we, as a nation, have made a mistake in creating this Ministry of Wordplay.
“I’ve been dodging portmanteaus and malapropisms all afternoon! It’s complete pundemonium in here!”