The Unfortunate Store

 

By Glen L. Bledsoe 

ASTORIA, ORE - Experts say that these new businesses unfairly target poor neighborhoods and the economically disadvantaged. Almost overnight businesses that buy, sell and trade misfortunes are springing up like mushrooms after a rain. Where did it all start and how do these businesses impact our communities?

Beaverton businessman Philip Henri-Bones, owner of a large chain of laundromats in the Pacific Northwest and newly opened "The Unfortunate Store," (pictured) in Astoria says he got the idea after reading James Joyce's short story "The Sin Eaters." The notion came to him that those who wish to shed the emotional weight of their personal tragedies might shift them to someone else-for a price. What makes this so devastating to our poor neighborhoods is that minorities who are well used to things going pear-shaped are taking on these burdens in exchange for quick cash at an alarming rate.

Dr. Jean Sheldon, Professor of Statistical Burdens and Calamities at the University of Oregon said, "The poor are experienced in bad luck and so they are more emotionally fortified when things go wrong. The well-to-do are taking advantage of this trait and in exchange for significant fees are shifting their guilt and social burdens onto the poor."

This has attracted the attention of the Oregon Fortunes Commission (OFC). Spokesperson Earl Wittles says he believes that laws are probably being violated, but admitted that this is a legal gray area. State Senator James Coville told reporters he has plans to introduce legislation to address these matters in the upcoming session in Salem.

The managers of two of the largest chains "Tragedy Depot" and "Tough Luck World" did not return phone calls from our reporters.

One Night in Paris

By Martin Sercombe

It was a typical Parisian evening, the streets bustling with people going about their business. 

But as the night progressed, the sky grew darker and the rain began to pour down in sheets.

 The Seine, which runs through the heart of the city, began to rise alarmingly.

 

Panic set in as people realized the seriousness of the situation.

 

Bicycles were quickly commandeered as people tried to flee the rising waters.

 

But not everyone was so eager to leave.

Some chose to celebrate the rain, performing comic rituals in the streets.

 

Two fashionable old ladies sat in a bar, deep in conversation and oblivious to the chaos outside.

 

 

Meanwhile, a young girl was out in the rain, rescuing a stray cat from the rising flood waters. She held the shivering animal close to her chest, trying to protect it from the elements.

Homeless men sought shelter from the storm in the doorway of Notre Dame Cathedral.

 

They huddled under blankets, trying to stay dry and warm. 

 

 A busker sang a lonely song, ignored by the panicked passersby.

His voice echoed through the streets, a haunting reminder of the fear that gripped the city.

 

 Two young boys, separated from their parents in the confusion and chaos, stood, frozen, uncertain what to do next.

 

A mime artist walked slowly down a rain-washed street, mourning the sorry state of a world driven to madness by climate change. 

 

As the night went on, the rain continued to pour down, the Seine continued to rise,

and the floodwaters spread across the city.

It was a night that no one would ever forget.

 

Hiding the Children

 By Glen L. Bledsoe 

The mother of my new student asked to speak to me in the hallway. She showed me a photograph of a man who could have been the winner of a Charlie Manson look-alike contest. She said, "If you ever see this man around the school immediately call the police. He is my children's father and he has sworn to sacrifice them to Satan."

My jaw fell open. Not the usual greetings exchanged between a parent and a teacher on a new student's first day.

She continued, "We've been moving from campground to campground, town to town trying to escape him for two years."

I looked back at the students through the door to my classroom. "I will see that your son is safe," I said, "and l'll talk to your daughter's teacher. We'll have a plan to hide them if necessary."

We did make a plan, but it was never implemented because within six weeks they had moved on. I have no idea whether they are still on the run or not.

True story, I'm sorry to say.

The Lost Children (Part 2)

 

 The Lost Children (Part 2) by Martin Sercombe

 

Two of the boys decided to take matters in hand.

Together they would hunt for a new home,

a place where life might be a little easier.

They looked for a boat to take them down river.

On a misty morning they rowed downstream towards the ocean.

Soon after, two of the girls followed behind.

But the coastal town proved as desolate as the city they had left behind. 

Wild storms had destroyed much of what they found.

 Making it hard to choose a place to call home.

The Lost Children

The Lost Children by Martin Sercombe 

 

Throughout the city, people started to die of unknown causes.

As each year past, the plague struck younger.

Soon there was no one left over the age of sixteen.

 

 

For those that remained, the mutations started slowly.

One child grew an extra finger,

another an odd shaped thumb.

A great forgetfulness spread across the city.

The children struggled to understand the purpose of the things left behind.

The word ‘fun’ almost vanished from their vocabulary.

A few youngsters tried to bring a little joy back into their lives.

A makeshift circus traveled from ravaged street to street.

The performers made do with whatever they could find.

A tame rat and a threadbare teddy bear became the stars of the show.

 Led by the extraordinary juggling skills of Klara the Clown.

But in the end, the challenges of everyday existence took their toll.

 

 

Soon the shops would empty

and the children would have to leave the city in search of food.