Movie Two-Liners Entry #12

April 29th, 2009 by Wordsman

This week’s puzzle:

The new guy screws up his first job and experiences trouble at the airport, heart trouble, and car trouble on the next.  He offers to resign but changes his mind because of money troubles.

Last week’s puzzle:

A building is almost closed because of issues involving the plumbing.  Of the three who set out to fix things, one loses his mind, one is relieved of a long-standing burden, and one meets the person who will become closer to him than anyone else in the world.

And the answer is . . . ▼

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This Day in History Entry #11

April 28th, 2009 by Wordsman

For that fateful trip to Tahiti
Old Lieutenant Bligh put ship to sea
He was to get breadfruit
A plan his crew made moot
When they mutinied on the Bounty

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Is a Picture Worth a Thousand Words? Entry #12

April 27th, 2009 by Wordsman


Jon was not enjoying the rain.  The wind had twisted his cheap umbrella inside out a long time ago, meaning that he looked and felt more like a drowning victim than a normal person, but this was not his chief concern; the tattered remnants of his umbrella were being used to shield his backpack.  The weather report called for rain, so Jon had left his laptop at home, but now his textbooks, notebooks, and other paper-based school materials were in serious danger of becoming soggy to the point of being unreadable.  So it’s completely understandable that when he attempted to open his door and failed, he became a little agitated.

Checking first to make sure that he had undone the lock, Jon gripped the doorknob and heaved his weight against it.  The door moved inward, but only slightly; it quickly shut again with a strange bouncing motion that was accompanied by an even stranger squeaking sound that called to mind something made of rubber.  This did not reassure Jon at all.

He weighed his options.  He could try calling his roommates on the inside, but even if they answered there was no guarantee that it would produce the results he was looking for.  It certainly wasn’t likely to get the door open quickly.  No, this was one of those desperate times that called for desperate measures.  Jon walked back down the steps, took a deep breath, spat out the water that got in his mouth, and ran full speed at the door.

The door swung inward, sending a great quantity of . . . something flying, and was followed shortly afterward by Jon, who skidded, tripped on an unidentified object, and collapsed.  He kicked the door shut and then lay there for a few seconds, letting his brain recover so that he could figure out what the heck had just happened.  His first priority: identifying what he had landed on.  It was not, as he might have expected, the floor.

Jon picked up one of the things and stared at it.  “Shoes?” he asked blearily.  His head was a little fuzzy from the two recent impacts.  There were shoes under him.  There were shoes on the foosball table.  There were shoes on the back of the couch, where his two roommates were engaged in their usual afternoon activity: being glued to the TV for hours on end.  Or rather, where they had been gazing mindlessly at the television until Jon made his dramatic entrance.

But where had they come from?  The shoes, that is, not the roommates.  Jon owned three pairs of shoes, which was at least one pair more than either of the other two did, and yet there were dozens of shoes scattered around the room, none of which looked familiar.  When his own brain failed him, he was forced to put the question to the two men who were sitting on the couch, staring at him as if he had just gone berserk and knocked down the door, which, technically, he had.

“Why are there so many shoes here?” Jon asked.  At the moment he was too confused to even be mad.

“We’ve been collecting them,” Dave explained matter-of-factly.

“But . . . why?”

“They came to us,” said Jordan.

“But . . . what?”  Jon had known ahead of time how difficult it would be to get an answer out of these guys, but he hadn’t known how literally painful it would be when he tried to do it shortly after hitting his head.

“We don’t know where they came from,” said Dave.  He got up from the couch and very slowly, very carefully removed one of the shoes that had ended up between the poles on the foosball table, making sure not to disturb the position of a single player.  It was the most delicate thing Jon had ever seen him do.  Then Dave hurled the shoe into the corner by the door.

“They just started showing up in front of the place a while ago,” he continued while performing a slightly less precise extraction of a sneaker that had gotten wedged into one of the goals.  “Being carried along by the water running along the side of the street.  We figured that they’d just get ruined out there, and somebody might come looking for them, so we brought them inside.  We were going to put up a sign about it when the rain stopped.”

Very strange things were transpiring.  A multitude of shoes had mysteriously floated along the rain runoff to arrive in front of their door.  Even weirder, his roommates were acting selflessly.  Was this deluge actually the end of the world?  Jon tried to clear his head by shaking it, but all that he accomplished was to make Dave and Jordan cringe when some of the droplets from his hair went in the direction of the foosball table.  “And why were they all stacked right in front of the door?” he asked wearily.

“You always tell us to take off our shoes when we come into the house,” Jordan admonished him.

“Right.”  It didn’t make any sense, but Jon didn’t have the will to fight the nonsense at that point.  “I’m going to go upstairs now, to . . . study,” he said, though actually he felt like he needed a nap to allow his brain to reset after the madness.

The upstairs door shut quietly.  “Damn,” said Jordan.  “He’s going to yell at us to turn the volume down now, isn’t he?”

“When does he ever not?”  Dave shook his head.  “Man, I never expected him to actually body slam the door.  I’m kinda impressed.”

“Impressed enough to turn down the sound while he’s studying?”

Dave thought about it for a second.  “No.  You go tell your football buddies playing out there in the mud that we’re going to need their shoes a while longer.  I’m going to go pile them in front of his room so he can’t get out.”

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The Jenoviad Entry #11

April 24th, 2009 by Wordsman

Cloud could not keep his eyes off
That white t-shirt, stretch’ed tight
Somewhere above, a voice said, “Cloud
You do recall me, right?”

“Well yeah, of course,” the blond man said
And this was . . . mostly true
“Tifa, how could I forget
A girl who looks like you?”

This response was not quite right
As Tifa’s face turned dour
Thinking quick, Cloud found his bag
Produced the single flower

“Oh, this is lovely!” Tifa cried
“My favorite color, blue”
Cloud lied, and said, “When purchasing
I thought of only you”

Cloud felt that things were going well
He’d get a kiss, or more
But then the shout of “Where’s that bum?”
Came from beneath the floor

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Movie Two-Liners Entry #11

April 22nd, 2009 by Wordsman

This week’s puzzle:

A building is almost closed because of issues involving the plumbing.  Of the three who set out to fix things, one loses his mind, one is relieved of a long-standing burden, and one meets the person who will become closer to him than anyone else in the world.

Last week’s puzzle:

Two leaders are captured by a depraved torturer.  After their escape attempts fail they manage to talk their way out of the situation, and they rejoin their comrades following a dramatic chase scene.

And the answer is . . . ▼

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This Day in History Entry #10

April 21st, 2009 by Wordsman

Known today for his fine pizza pie
Back in World War One he ruled the sky
He shot down eighty planes
But the myst’ry remains:
By whose hand did the Red Baron die?

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Is a Picture Worth a Thousand Words? Entry #11

April 20th, 2009 by Wordsman



The dirty gray orb sailed across the (roughly) level green playing field.


The orb was forcefully struck by a well-placed foot and immediately rocketed back in the opposite direction.


Between the dramatic cracks that rang out almost constantly, the arena was filled with the steady squeaking of un-oiled metal rapidly rotating and shifting back and forth through plastic sheathes. And, during rare, brief moments of calm, one could even hear the simple sound of the ball rolling the length of the field, somehow dodging its way past all who stood before it, at long last dropping into the goal with a light THUD of finality that somehow managed to be louder than all the commotion that preceded it. For some, this was the sound of victory; for others, it represented humiliation and disgrace.

Beyond this there was no sound. The two generals who commanded the armies arrayed on the field never spoke, for they had no need. Their every order was communicated non-verbally, transmitted through their shoulders, arms, wrists, hands, fingers. There were no shouts of joy or groans of defeat, for these would have interrupted the flow of the match, and the flow of the match was a force more powerful than gravity and magnetism combined. And there certainly was no whirr of the metal rods spinning over and over in place, for spinning was a blasphemy so sacrilegious that it was believed that field itself would spontaneously crack down the middle if the word was even uttered in its presence.

Still, the field of battle was certainly a loud place, where most men’s senses would be completely deadened and even basic conversation would be awkward, if not impossible. The two mighty warriors, however, remained unperturbed. They were familiar with the sounds of battle. After all, they had been raised on the battlefield. No matter how titanic, how furious, how deafening the match became, they were still able to keep their full attention on the game.

Unfortunately, not everyone is capable of such feats of concentration.

If the two competitors had not been perfectly focused on the manipulation of their subordinates, they might have head the door slam upstairs. They may also have noticed someone stomping angrily down the steps one by one. They did pick up on the heavy sigh, but only because they had heard it so many times before, and even then only subconsciously. It only registered as an inexplicable sense of foreboding, and for a moment each one thought that the other was about to unleash some secret, unstoppable technique, leaving the victim powerless to prevent the end of the game.

Instead, the game ended in quite a different fashion.

“You know,” Jon began in a shout that was jarring more because of its level of indignation than its volume. For the first time since the match began, one of the two faltered and missed a shot that he should have easily made. The ball rolled past the misplaced defender, ricocheted off the wall, and slowly drifted to a halt in one of the corners. The flow of the game was broken. The match was, for all intents and purposes, over.

“I like sports as much as the next guy,” Jon continued, when he believed that he had his roommates’ full attention. This was, in fact, a lie. Jon had never cared for sports of any kind, from football to foosball. Sports were the opiate of the masses, the modern equivalent of the ancient Romans’ circuses, and their only purpose was to use flash to distract the ignorant from worrying about real problems. Professional sports were nothing more than a waste of time, but this did not bother Jon much. Except, of course, when the time being wasted was his.

“I understand why people would want to spend hundreds of dollars and hours waiting in line just to get tickets to the Super Bowl or the World Series or the Final Four.” He couldn’t, actually, and he knew he would have a hard time faking it, especially with those two, so he moved on. “But what I can’t understand is why you two are so obsessed with this stupid game that you’re still playing it at three o’clock in the morning!”

One of the two competitors finally opened his mouth. They had not remained silent for the sake of being polite and letting Jon finish speaking. It had just taken that long for them to recover from the shock of having the match come to such a sudden, unsatisfactory end. “Dude,” said Dave, “how many times have we told you not to interrupt us in the middle of the game?”

“I don’t know,” Jon responded angrily. “How many times have I told you not to play your dumb game when I’m trying to sleep? Let’s see . . . going at about five times a week . . . it must be almost thirty by now!”

“The game must go on,” said Jordan, who slowly loosened his grip on the table and leaned back into a normal standing position.

“But does it really have to go on right now?” Jon argued. “You know I have a test tomorrow morning!” His two roommates stared at him blankly. In the grand scheme of things, tests ranked very low on the importance scale, somewhere around getting enough sleep and remembering to return library books. Jon tried a different tactic. “And does it have to be this game? Can’t you play something quieter?” But the suggestion was pointless; Jon was pretty sure that they didn’t know how to play any quiet games.

“Fine!” he declared. “Then I’m taking this!” He reached down and seized the ball. Dave and Jordan protested vehemently, but to no avail. Jon took the dirty gray orb upstairs and slammed his door again. They couldn’t keep him from studying.

An unearthly hush fell over the battlefield. The two armies hung lifelessly from their poles. The game was over. Both sides had lost.

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The Jenoviad Entry #10

April 17th, 2009 by Wordsman

Eventu’lly the train got to
The slums of Sector 7
“Guys!” said Biggs, “Let’s hit the bar!
Its name is 7th Heaven”

Cloud would not be bossed around
From orders he was free
And so he wandered ‘round the town
But found not much to see

Cloud gave up quick, rejoined the group
Went to the liquor vendor
Regretted waiting when he saw
The smokin’ hot bartender

It must have been Cloud’s lucky day
He met sylph after sylph
And then a little girl ran by
Cloud thought, “Is she a MILF?”

As it turned out, she was not
The girl with Barret went
When they left, Cloud could contemplate
This beauty, heaven-sent

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Movie Two-Liners Entry #10

April 15th, 2009 by Wordsman

This week’s puzzle:

Two leaders are captured by a depraved torturer. After their escape attempts fail they manage to talk their way out of the situation, and they rejoin their comrades following a dramatic chase scene.

Last week’s puzzle:

A young couple falls in love while running away from authority. Just when they think they’re finally safe, their best friend’s father splits them up as part of an effort to get closer to his son.

And the answer is . . . ▼

Posted in Movie Two-Liners | 1 Comment »

This Day in History Entry #9

April 14th, 2009 by Wordsman

Yes, the House of York faced a great threat
But Edward the Fourth was not licked yet
He, helped by brother Dick
Beat the Earl of Warwick
Of Lancaster, fighting at Barnet

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