Saturday, July 14, 2007


Two more

Vengeance: Chapter One

‘Your native,’ Carstairs had sighed, gin in hand, at our first meeting after I’d arrived in the country, ‘is basically a barbarian.’

I thought of his words as I stared down at his headless body, thought of my ‘barbarian’ wife, butchered by his sort; and, numb, I went to wash.

Bad Boy

‘Fuck,’ said two-year-old Brian, ‘fuck, fuck, fuck.’

His mother, shocked, sent him to his room and locked the door.

The f pushed one end ever further between his lips but the glottal ck failed to dislodge the bulk of the hairball, and in the morning his mother found Brian choked.

"Summon the cook! I wish to complement him personally."

They said I was a fool for taking this job after the way he had totally destroyed my family and father's good name. Yet here I was, standing in front of him as his personal chef.

"That was excellent," he said, wiping gravy from his fat jowls. "Truly excellent. What do you call that dish?"

"I don't know," I said. "What WAS your baby's name?"
What you maen "intolerable Monstee?"
Monstee: good story, but it's more than 50 words. You're intolerable.

Monstee: ibid.
It's as if you've taken a bouquet garni of Hotel Rwanda, The Constant Gardener and that autobiographical Richard E. Grant film and then boiled them in a tiny pot to get a thimbleful of potent and highly condensed soup, with that first one.

Bad Boy's just deliciously bad.

Take a bow!

The identify-the-mini-saga-authors game sounds like a lark. I'll have a bash.
50 words? Guess me missed that. Wasn't really reading you posting anyway.
The doctor had just discovered alien life. It made my skin crawl.

"The tests are positive," he said. "The bacteria's extraterrestrial. You've been massively infected."

He looked at me with terror. My skin continued crawling. He screamed as it engulfed him. I was sweating blood. Then his skin crawled too.
Much has happened since I last visited. Your stories have become shorter and snappier, I have turned into Dr Maroon and you have turned into a Welshman.
'Vengeance' certainly got off to a good start. Mind you we seem to have all the information we need in Chapter One.
The Last Straw or The Drawbacks of Convention or It All Started on a Tuesday Afternoon or Foot Eater is a Lie or In the Folds of the Only Page or One, Two, Three do the Hop.

We do not have words for what we are doing nor do we bother to invent them because, after all, who wants to risk a miscarriage of convention, so we work silently with the occasional “that thing there” or “this here”, and anyway what do I know about cosmetic surgery.
- Good girl -

She lay down before him, chin on chest, eyes to the floor. As she rose, she understood that she would be forever his, sitting, speaking, standing and sleeping at his command. Her collar felt uncomfortable, leather to skin, but it provided a welcome sense of home and discipline.
I like the first, don't like the second and--holy shit, is that MONSTEE?
Tag! You're it!

Yes, it's bloody meme time again. Check out my July 17th post...
I know you have a map of South America up there (next you'll claim to be a latin) but was the first story directed at the Scots?
Eeee, by 'eck Footie, yer right good at these..
Sam: funny you should say that. I'd just watched The Last King of Scotland before coming up with that one.

Monstee: damn good, that. Great ending.

GB: I've always been a Welshman - well, partly, anyway - but you'll understand why I don't go trumpeting the fact.

DH: there are plenty more people to be killed in this imaginary story that will never be written. And although Carstairs is headless, who says he'll stay down?

Justin: I was all set to say that you'd missed the point of these mini-sagas until I got to your last sentence. You give excellent climax, sir.

Fearfink: yes, very good. They don't have to be about darkness and cannibalism, as you've proven. In fact, few if any of the winning entries were.

SafeT: a lot more thought went into the first than into the second. Yes, Monstee hasn't been around these here parts for a while. I need to spray the place with that varminticide again.

Binty: no chance.

Mr Knudsen: see my response to Sam's comment. And Vengeance is actually a creation myth; the narrator goes on to found Scotland. Your astuteness does you proud.

FMC: here was me thinking you were Irish.
-Tally HO!-

Finishing the mark, he scanned the total.
His shaking hand touched each gouge, each carve into the wood, each crossmark of five.
"So many," he whispered.
His hand shook even harder reaching the top.
Carved there was one word. 'Glarkings.'
Foot Eater closed his eyes. "Why always me?" he wept.
i want you to expand on "William and the Mushroom" it's got the making of a SERIOUSLY fucking cool sci-fi story.

and you know how i feel about sci-fi.
Sarah: I blame you for my fizzling out on Closure, you know*.

* That, and I lost the muse. Not your fault at all. I'm a lazy one.
i'm sorry SafeT. :( it was a great story, just a weird time for me.
Sarah: I suspect you and I have quite different ideas about what those mushrooms on the horizon really are.

SafeT and Sarah: I was going to say 'take it outside' but I'm too intrigued. Have I missed something?
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