Jamie picked up another empty beer can and added it to her bag. Behind her stretched a line of other middle-schoolers wearing neon vests, carrying trash picker sticks and bags. The last week of camp was always dedicated to community service in the form of collecting garbage from the creek. She grumbled as she added faded candy wrappers, cigarette butts, and a child's tennis shoe to her bag.
She didn't see eyes watching her from the shadows, silently thanking her.
80 Words for Service Apologies, to Jay as I wrote this before I saw the gas station comments!
“Steve’s Snappy Service” read the sign on his gas station. Full services given, tire pressure, oil and filter checks. Unfortunately, he was a crook.
“You're a quart low on the dipstick” he would caution. “Tisk, tisk, these tires are about shot” once again padding the bill. Well, old Doc Martin gleefully evened the score when Steve was rushed into the ER. Telling him “You’re down a quart and your ticker needs a new tockin, let me get MY bill started.”
Sometimes we're not grateful for what we have, she thought as after a fully day cleaning other people's house and her own plus taking in washing, she was trying to make their meagre provisions stretch to feed a hungry miner husband and three growing bairns
Life had been hard when she was in-service but at least someone else was in charge and there was food enough. Also back then she did not get a slap if he was tired or have conjugal rights to perform.
The goal of every Conglomerate citizen is, of course, to serve their nation. Provided they complete the requisite education, demonstrate the appropriate aptitude, and maintain a record free from transgression, each are eligible for service. Though allowed to live according to their preference, most citizens exchange days of service for access to premium-tier benefits. While the Conglomerate government provides necessities, additional discretionary income is required for upgrades to premium housing, all-organic food, unlimited mobile service, and on-demand entertainment packages.
The stray add bubble made it clear: “Companion worker. Humans wanted. No experience necessary.”
The job seemed simple enough, and Yìzé’s pecuniary setback gave him little choice. Scanning his psi-credentials, he received the green light of approval and a business address. He jumped for joy, and took the nearest air shuttle.
Upon his reception, the director shook his hand and introduced the client. Confused, Yìzé claimed he didn’t see anyone. The director laughed, and informed him the client had already occupied his body.
“An energy creature from Mu Capricorni. Not a lot of people apply for this job, but I’d wager symbiotic hosting pays pretty well!” He nudged Yìzé’s arm with a broad smile.
“Bing, Bing,” went the bell as the car crossed the wires. Immediately four young men dressed in matching suits rushed towards the car like a swarm of zombies in search of dinner. Each stopped abruptly to fulfill their assignment.
The old man opened his eyes.
“How may I be of service,” he asked quietly.
His nurse eyed him carefully. “Just ease on back and let me perform my job,” she said as she escorted him back to a prone position.
Francis ignores the annoyed looks directed at the clicking of his anxious bouncy knees. Everyone should understand; his sister died.
Eventually, the service is over.
“Are you certain,”, “I’ll bury my sister alone,” he interrupts gruffly, eyes glaring daggers at his brother-in-law. Biggest regret of his life, marrying off his sister to the bastard.
“I’ll load the coffin on the carriage with you.”
After 10 minutes, he hears the coffin’s wood splinter. “Jesus Christ! I almost suffocated,” His sister exclaims.
Thank you. Since micro-fictions are shorter than most written form, I like to write an ending that packs a punch. Makes you see all you just read through a new lens.
Sometimes I wish I could time-travel—not to meet a pharaoh or stop a war, but to the golden age of full-service gas stations. Windows cleaned. Oil checked. Human kindness, with a splash of windshield fluid. Not this cold self-service era where I pump in silence, questioning my life choices. Back then, even your car got more attention than most people do today. Honestly? I’d trade two apps and a podcast just to have someone wipe my mirrors and ask how I’m doing.
Diana, right—that classic UK vs. US English difference, like van and lorry. I learned 'petrol' in school here in Germany, where the English curriculum was very British-oriented, so the first time I heard 'gas station' in the U.S., I blinked. Now it's the other way around! I'm really looking forward to reading your longer piece.
Absolutely, Bill. I used to go to a car wash that still had someone manually removing insects and packed-on dirt before you drove in. But they recently did away with that—rationalized him out of the job by installing a new washing line. Now it’s just like every other car wash. So I go where it’s cheapest. They lost a customer.
True, Bill. The guy who did it for sure. He was doing that job for at least 20 years now, and he hadn't yet reached retirement age. They just wanted to update their car wash.
I think there are several states here in the US that only allow full-service gas stations. My kids were shocked when they went on a road trip and someone came out to pump gas.
They are mostly gone in Canada. The only place I have come across that has them is on a Native Reservation. I like the service, especially on those freezing January and February mornings!
From my childhood, I remember how the preacher would get red in the face as he hollered about heaven and hell, mostly hell, during the Sunday service .
How does a young innocent find Love in all that blustering ?
It was a turn-off and it took me reading the Bible for myself to find my way back to God and Jesus. It was a long journey to get there.but I am glad to have made it.
May 27 Service 80
Jamie picked up another empty beer can and added it to her bag. Behind her stretched a line of other middle-schoolers wearing neon vests, carrying trash picker sticks and bags. The last week of camp was always dedicated to community service in the form of collecting garbage from the creek. She grumbled as she added faded candy wrappers, cigarette butts, and a child's tennis shoe to her bag.
She didn't see eyes watching her from the shadows, silently thanking her.
What’s that up in the street, a head?
Service - 80 words
The two spoke quietly at the memorial service.
“He used his father’s service revolver, from Korea.”
“I heard,” said the second, “I’m glad that when my turn comes, there is the Eternal Peace Dispens-o-mat.
“Yes, there’s one here, actually,” said the first, pulling aside a purple curtain.
Beyond was a grey monolithic machine, featureless except for two slots, one marked BITCOIN TOKEN HERE and the other boasting “Your Eternal Peace”.
Across which was taped a handwritten notice.
OUT OF SERVICE - our condolences
80 Words for Service Apologies, to Jay as I wrote this before I saw the gas station comments!
“Steve’s Snappy Service” read the sign on his gas station. Full services given, tire pressure, oil and filter checks. Unfortunately, he was a crook.
“You're a quart low on the dipstick” he would caution. “Tisk, tisk, these tires are about shot” once again padding the bill. Well, old Doc Martin gleefully evened the score when Steve was rushed into the ER. Telling him “You’re down a quart and your ticker needs a new tockin, let me get MY bill started.”
Service 80mg [overdosed by 5]
Sometimes we're not grateful for what we have, she thought as after a fully day cleaning other people's house and her own plus taking in washing, she was trying to make their meagre provisions stretch to feed a hungry miner husband and three growing bairns
Life had been hard when she was in-service but at least someone else was in charge and there was food enough. Also back then she did not get a slap if he was tired or have conjugal rights to perform.
80mg of SERVICE—set in the world of the Algorithm of Life novels: https://gillywater.substack.com/p/algorithm-of-life-table-of-contents
********
The goal of every Conglomerate citizen is, of course, to serve their nation. Provided they complete the requisite education, demonstrate the appropriate aptitude, and maintain a record free from transgression, each are eligible for service. Though allowed to live according to their preference, most citizens exchange days of service for access to premium-tier benefits. While the Conglomerate government provides necessities, additional discretionary income is required for upgrades to premium housing, all-organic food, unlimited mobile service, and on-demand entertainment packages.
Diner Closed for Repairs
Grand Reopening April 22nd with Guaranteed New and Improved Service
Our Apologies for the Inconvenience
‘What happened Hank?’ asked a passing Mort.
‘Regina’
‘Regina Newterre the waitress?’
‘Not no more she ain’t. Insulted the Good Witch Gwladys. Gwladys turned her into half a frog. She tried to run for it and…’
‘Her run was more of a leap?’
‘You got it. She smashed the glass ceiling Mort.’
‘Oh bummer’
‘Yup. Gonna cost a fortune to repair.’
That's truly lovely Miguel - bisous!
NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY
The stray add bubble made it clear: “Companion worker. Humans wanted. No experience necessary.”
The job seemed simple enough, and Yìzé’s pecuniary setback gave him little choice. Scanning his psi-credentials, he received the green light of approval and a business address. He jumped for joy, and took the nearest air shuttle.
Upon his reception, the director shook his hand and introduced the client. Confused, Yìzé claimed he didn’t see anyone. The director laughed, and informed him the client had already occupied his body.
“An energy creature from Mu Capricorni. Not a lot of people apply for this job, but I’d wager symbiotic hosting pays pretty well!” He nudged Yìzé’s arm with a broad smile.
“Bing, Bing,” went the bell as the car crossed the wires. Immediately four young men dressed in matching suits rushed towards the car like a swarm of zombies in search of dinner. Each stopped abruptly to fulfill their assignment.
The old man opened his eyes.
“How may I be of service,” he asked quietly.
His nurse eyed him carefully. “Just ease on back and let me perform my job,” she said as she escorted him back to a prone position.
Service - 80mg
This is in remembrance of one of my dogs, Maya, who passed away this morning at the age of 13yrs and 51 weeks young. RIP baby
______________________________________________
Rain drizzled gently as we gathered for the funeral service beneath the old oak tree.
Maya, my faithful mixed-breed and loyal service dog, had been more than a companion—she was my best friend.
Through panic attacks and silent battles, she stayed by my side, unshakable and brave.
I placed her favorite ball beside her, whispering a thank-you through tears.
The wind stirred the leaves like a soft farewell.
Maya’s leash lay folded on my lap—her watch over, but never forgotten.
Aw that's so beautiful. Huge hugs X
That was beautiful. I am so sorry for your loss.
Francis ignores the annoyed looks directed at the clicking of his anxious bouncy knees. Everyone should understand; his sister died.
Eventually, the service is over.
“Are you certain,”, “I’ll bury my sister alone,” he interrupts gruffly, eyes glaring daggers at his brother-in-law. Biggest regret of his life, marrying off his sister to the bastard.
“I’ll load the coffin on the carriage with you.”
After 10 minutes, he hears the coffin’s wood splinter. “Jesus Christ! I almost suffocated,” His sister exclaims.
Yayyy!! Great ending!
Thank you. I was very excited when I came up with it.
Great ending. Brother looking out for his sister
Happy that you loved it. I was pretty darn proud of myself for coming up with it.
Oh, that was a nice surprise!
Thank you. Since micro-fictions are shorter than most written form, I like to write an ending that packs a punch. Makes you see all you just read through a new lens.
80 mg of Service
Sometimes I wish I could time-travel—not to meet a pharaoh or stop a war, but to the golden age of full-service gas stations. Windows cleaned. Oil checked. Human kindness, with a splash of windshield fluid. Not this cold self-service era where I pump in silence, questioning my life choices. Back then, even your car got more attention than most people do today. Honestly? I’d trade two apps and a podcast just to have someone wipe my mirrors and ask how I’m doing.
Totally agree.
I'm writing a longer piece around when I was the one who would rush out to fill a car with petrol [UK - gas=petrol :) ] It was a great Saturday job
Diana, right—that classic UK vs. US English difference, like van and lorry. I learned 'petrol' in school here in Germany, where the English curriculum was very British-oriented, so the first time I heard 'gas station' in the U.S., I blinked. Now it's the other way around! I'm really looking forward to reading your longer piece.
There was nothing like having adults come running out and inquire about what your car needed. It promoted a loyalty from the customers.
Absolutely, Bill. I used to go to a car wash that still had someone manually removing insects and packed-on dirt before you drove in. But they recently did away with that—rationalized him out of the job by installing a new washing line. Now it’s just like every other car wash. So I go where it’s cheapest. They lost a customer.
It really is unfortunate. There are people who would take pride in performing jobs like this.
True, Bill. The guy who did it for sure. He was doing that job for at least 20 years now, and he hadn't yet reached retirement age. They just wanted to update their car wash.
I think there are several states here in the US that only allow full-service gas stations. My kids were shocked when they went on a road trip and someone came out to pump gas.
They are mostly gone in Canada. The only place I have come across that has them is on a Native Reservation. I like the service, especially on those freezing January and February mornings!
I think New Jersey or maybe DC are one of those states
Interesting. In Germany they were already gone in the 80s.
From my childhood, I remember how the preacher would get red in the face as he hollered about heaven and hell, mostly hell, during the Sunday service .
How does a young innocent find Love in all that blustering ?
It was a turn-off and it took me reading the Bible for myself to find my way back to God and Jesus. It was a long journey to get there.but I am glad to have made it.
Thank you , Miguel !
Theresa, that is great. Please with your journey x
Thank you , Diane !
Thank you , Bill !
Thank you , Bill !
Thank youv, Izzibella !
Thank you , Scott !
Thank you Jeannine!
Thank you , Jay!
Hope you are doing well.
I have been busy planting my garden and still have beans to plant.
Happy Writing!
Barry perched on top of the smooth, rounded wood, surface polished beneath his bare feet.
There had been words. A few had gotten up from their seats and spoken. Now, the crowd sat in silence, looking down.
“Huh, I’d thought there would be more for the service,” he said out loud to no one in particular.
One or two of the folks looked up.
“Come, it is time to go.”
Barry nodded. He stood and followed the voice out.
PROMPT: SERVICE
THE MENU
He’d been looking forward to visiting the new upmarket restaurant all week.
But when one of the service staff handed him a menu, he soon discovered he didn’t understand a word of it.
So he tapped one of the other customers on the shoulder and whispered, “May I ask you a question about the menu, please?”
She was incensed, and immediately threw her drink over him.
“How dare you”, she said, “The men I please are none of your business!” 🍽️😎🍽️
🤣
😎👍
Nice! I love the word play!
Thanks! 😎👍
OMG, I LOVE this
Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it... 😎
😊
😎👍
Ah!!!!! It took me a minute (my brain is a slow-moving beast), but just just before I typed in a message that I didn't get it, I got it. VERY funny! 🤣
I love a bit of wordplay! Haha! 😎