*No, that was a leak in the sealing, Clicky… /drags… plus it ‘appened the day before…*
… But fortunately the open mic slot for Saturday had become available that morning, so I re-booked to return at the weekend…
*Good thing that creative writing class broke for food when they did… /smokes… It was nice to have an audience, Clicky. I hope I didn’t put them off their lunch…*
… Thank you for listening, Dear Reader, and have a Song…
Dear Reader, the release of Underdog Anthology 8: Transgenre Dreams in imminent…
… At 230 pages it’s a bumper edition and, fingers crossed, will be available to purchase later this week. Butt for right now… Cade F.O.N. Apollyon, who has written two wonderful stories – one of which made me pee myself laughing; the other made me sob – and five lively poems for the latest anthology, has sent through a lovely missive. To tide us over 😉
*Know ‘er will be the next post, Clicky… /pats snout… Patience…*
*******
THE PROSECUTOR: Tries to get them in.
THE DEFENSE: Tries to get them out.
THE JUDGE: Tries to get them to where they need to be.
Is that right? Am I right on that? Notwithstanding corruptions of all kinds, is that the basis of a legal proceeding? It just occurs to me, that any competition is always a minimum of 1 v 2, not 1 v 1. Kinda 3 on 3, ‘cept, just 3, battling for 1.
So confusing
^MS MR – Hurricane (Official Video)^
What? You don’t get it? Well fuck me runnin’…you can’t have a contest without a rule set, rule sets, or some kind of governing body of some kind. Without that extra layer, there can be no contest, right? What happens if both competitors show up, all juiced up on steroids and blasted out of their minds on cocaine?
Yeah...the law...it wins.
^Bobby Fuller Four – I Fought The Law(1966)^
Yeah, Brexit is on my mind since March 29th has come and gone. See, here in Texas, we have these things called Antlions. I included a pic at the beginning of this whatever.
An ant or some other creature wanders by, they fall into the pit these Antlions construct, and the more the wayward creature struggles and tries to escape, the more the pit collapses in on itself…keeps the hapless fucker trapped. I mean, who the fuck would go to all that trouble of creating a capture infrastructure that also lets individuals come and go as they please?
^Hee Haw Where Are You Tonight^
Today I learned that April Fool’s pranks cannot be played after noon. I actually think I’ve heard that before, but I’ve never adhered to that rule because I’ve a weird clock. Seriously, if I work the evening shift, I may not see many of my friends until sometime after noon. How can I participate if there are all these conflicting rules? Not only that, but what does it say about the current structures of the modern workday(s)? Do the modern modalities and stipulations with respect to employment leave any room for the employee?
Or is that too much of a stretch for you?
Holidays, work, nah…not related in the slightest.
^Pixies :: No. 13 Baby :: Extended Version (not official) :: with lyrics^
Ever heard of something called HTA? In 1971, Esso had “three new fuels” with something called HTA in them. I guess some kind of additive to reduce engine hesitation via fuel performance.
Q: Is it possible to find out what products a company had available at a specific time, and if so, what those products contained and why?
A: ? ¿
I’d like to know what kinds of materials a pair of socks contained back in the 1970’s, but it would appear my quest is akin to finding a needle in a stack of needle-stacks.
Hrm…it would seem that for North America, Esso only has retail locations in Canada now, so I’d imagine that any 1970’s products and their components would likely not be mentioned. But, let’s give it a whirl anyway.
To be honest, my Google searching has so fucking many HTA’s, and these HTA’s mean so goddamn many things, no telling what in the fuck HTA was…or is…or will be…
Seems that some someone somewhere invented some something called “HTA”, and this some something is
“a mixture of nonpolymeric amines”
which are
“said to minimize wetting by gasoline of the intake system metal oxide layer.”
And so, we’ve possibly got our “HTA stuff” figured out, and what this HTA stuff does, but this is where shit really gets interesting, because the author goes on to possibly tell how it does it.
“Rather, small droplets are formed which tend better to be entrained in the air stream, thus reducing maldistribution due to a high inertia liquid film.”
OK, so, “polymer” is mentioned in a “nonpolymeric” context, and what immediately popped into my head was stringy, springy stretchy things, and “bubbles”. “Misting” of fuel(s) is usually required in order to get a particular fuel to burn the way you want it to. But gasoline is already quite unstable, so it’s usually a case of keeping it from burning until you want it to. Are they trying to keep the gasoline from creating bubbles/droplets and create “sheets” instead? There’s mention of film, and more than that, a high inertia liquid film. I wonder what that could mean?
Film – a thin skin or membrane
God does not play dice?
^Prodigy fans line the streets for Keith Flint funeral | ITV News^
Braintree? Keith Flint and Prodigy were from Braintree? Stephen King had a “Braintree Texas” in his book/movie The Stand.
Weird
Braintree is not a real town in Texas btw. Neither is Arnette. But there is an Arnett, TX.
Local time: Monday 11:33 AM
Weather: 49°F (9°C), Wind NE at 5 mph (8 km/h), 55% Humidity
That’s the weather for Arnett, TX on this fine Monday of April 1st.
How are you today?
^Primus – Too Many Puppies^
There was something in the news recently about churches and roller skating/roller skaters. I guess there were a couple of assholes brought swords to the party, one took the other’s sword away, and some motherfucker wound up getting cut because one of the swords was a shade more “swordy” than the other.
Ammonia has been appearing on my radar a lot lately, but you don’t care about that, so let’s keep going with whatever in the fuck HTA is, how it works in gasoline, and why it was there in the first place.
You think any concepts like these are applicable in…the spiritual realms? It’s just, I’m about to have to wander off into concepts like detonation, pre-ignition and all kinds of abnormal combustion that you prolly have no interest in.
It's sapping my will to read/type
^CHVRCHES – Lies^
Here’s the thing, earlier today, there was some more nonsense about “junk food” and it causing cancerous advertising or some such nonsense, and it really got me to thinking about my own relationships with sustenance. I don’t think some people realize what kind of razor blade I sometimes have to ride with respect to eating. Or maybe, they do, and they just want me to buy their junk food instead of someone else’s. Or maybe they couldn’t care less about me and my needs. That said, it has occurred to me from time to time that there are those that are well aware of some of the cancer dynamics, but ain’t saying nothing.
Like maybe, that there is a structural societal cancer build on top of disease that is so embedded, that removal of the disease is likely to be fatal to these systems that our societies function in and upon. Google is telling me that there are 18 million healthcare workers in the US alone, and there’s no real qualification as to what that means. Is someone who manufactures the sheets that go on the beds of an MRI machine considered “a healthcare worker”? Irrespective, I doubt very seriously that 60+ million healthcare workers worldwide are ready to be out of work. What does junk food and shaving have to do with Newtonian physics and HTA gasoline additives from the 1970’s?
… With the window for submissions closing fast, Underdog Anthology 8 has so far attracted 10 authors with 18 short stories and 11 poems, not including my mutilated offering in the Afterword…
*So far on the Dead Poets Page, I’ve managed to… /counts on fingers… stitch up Shakespeare, ravage Routhier, lacerate Lazarus, willingly torture Wells & Tormé, wanker Wheatley, pillage Poe and obliterate Oliphant… /flicks ASH… About time I butchered Blake don’t ya fink, Clicky… /smokes contentedly…*
So, Dear Reader, with a hat-tip to Dr Seuss – never mess with Seuss – the LoL is pleased to present my perverse verse for Underdog Anthology 8 from Leg Iron Books. Of course it’s about Brexit…
The Creeps (that stole Brexit Brexit)
by Roo B. Doo
Brexit Brexit, MPs blight,
In the politics of Fright;
What immoral Hansard lie,
Could frame their shameful skimitry?
What the distant Creeps despise,
Disbelieving of their lies?
In Labour town & Tory shire,
People chose Leave as their desire?
And what bluster, for their part,
In twisting syntax off the chart?
And so the Creeps began to cheat,
Safe in smugness, if not in seat.
“What the horror? Why the pain?”
“The People didn’t know thy brain!”
“What the oldies failed to grasp,
It’s not long ’til their final gasp!”
When the Creeps threw down their sneers,
Made amendments, with loud jeers,
Did they smile their work to see?
Do they know they’ll have to flee?
Brexit Brexit, MPs blight,
In the politics of Fright;
What immoral Hansard lie,
Could frame their shameful skimitry?
*/stubs butt… Those fuckers are gonna rue the day, Clicky…*
…so I am really happy to be able to take a break, and present a brand new missive from Cade Fon Apollyon, the Okie Devil, for your delectation…
*Yeah, I don’t think living in Text US automatically makes him a cowboy, Clicky…*
*******
I need all of you to line up in a non-quiet and disorderly fashion.
I just wanna see what kind of line forms out of ordered chaos.
Yes…I’m ordering you…to be chaotic.
GO!!!
CHOP CHOP!!! I ain't got all day.
^Netsh – sleep.exe [ARTS037]^
People sometimes talk as if fate is some kind of cakewalk. Just kick back, and it’ll come your way since it is preordained. The thing is, that you can typically only see synchs backwards.
A – You experience an odd coincidence.
B – As a result of the odd coincidence, you go left instead of right at the next intersection.
C – Godzilla attacks the video store you were headed to had you turned right instead of left, and everyone in the store dies.
D – You do not die, hence, the Universe signaled you at “A”, you listened, all is right with the world.
('cept for the dead people of course)
You are viewing all that shit backwards, not forwards. You had no idea any of that nonsense was going to happen, but it did, and you’ve got a marker to hang on to…
the synch.
But you may want to consider that had you turned right and continued your jaunt to the video store, that’s no guarantee that you would have died, nor anyone else for that matter. Perhaps if you had turned right, Godzilla would have diverted his/her wrath on the vape shop instead of the video store. Maybe all this “synch” and “sync” nonsense is sometimes just a certain level of awareness at certain points in time. You are part of this crazy nonsense afterall. I’m sure The Universe is just as concerned about you as they are anyone else. With that in mind…
Q: Are you concerned about The Universe?
A: ¿?
Of course, when this “preordained” destiny of yours doesn’t come your way, or doesn’t come in the way that it was preordained, you are likely to take matters into your own hands and start chasing this destiny that was supposed to fall into your lap at some point.
Don’t sweat it tho.
Prolly just a scheduling error.
Time and times can be funky sometimes.
^E-Z Rollers – Tough At The Top^
Cade: Yes, I know…there is a discrepancy.
X: And what would that discrepancy be?
Cade: You.
X: Me?
Cade: Well, no…I mean the participant.
T: Think you can clarify? You’re giving me a headache.
Cade: You, as in the participant in a “sync” experience as it happens.
Z: But you have to explain it to others, backwards. Is that what you are trying to say?
Cade: Yes. You experience it forwards, you reflect on it internally in a simultaneous forwards/backwards way…
0: But have to share the experience with others backwards, we get it. But why didn’t you just say that in the first place?
Cade: A job worth doing is worth doing right?
X: …
Cade: OK, so, I don’t like editing what I write.
X: And why would that be?
Cade: Because it leaves a bunch of shit out. Important shit.
X: The stumbling and bumbling…mistakes and the like.
Cade: Correct. It turns what could be a dialogue…
B: Into a one-way conversation. A statement. A speech. A diatribe.
Cade: A mother-fucking monologue.
X: And these, uh, “monologues” that you mention, they are bad?
Cade: They certainly seem apt to leave you standing alone.
0: And what exactly is wrong with being alone pray tell?
Cade: Nothing. If that’s where you want to be.
X: Where are we?
Cade: Here.
X: And where do we want to be?
Cade: Here.
X: And where is that?
Cade: Here.
X: That’s where you’ll always be.
Cade: I know that anyone reading this will unlikely pick up on the vibe that I’m feeling based on your thought/statement, but there’s a weird simultaneousness to the thought of “still being where I’ve been, as well as I’m already at where I’ve yet to be, all while I am where I am.”
X: Destiny.
Cade: Something like that.
0: Woah woah woah…what do you mean “something like that”?
Cade: The past is many times just as fuzzy as the future, and sometimes the present is fuzzier still.
Z: Care to elaborate?
Cade: Trying to explain something that has happened and/or is happening, to someone else who has no reference points, nor baselines except for what I tell them. Dunno about you, but that’s pretty fucking fuzzy to me.
Z: Any examples?
Cade: Now.
Z: If you’ll expand on that, I’ll listen.
Cade: Fair enough. I was thinking about JAL Flight 123, and the movie ‘Unbreakable’. However, while thinking about those examples, I decided that they were both impertinent.
Z: Impertinent in any all contexts and by all definitions?
Cade: Yes. They are both similar, not same.
Z: But those examples are both poignant and relatable, and based in both fact and fiction.
Cade: The fantastic. I shouldn’t have to use some fantastic or incredible anecdotal evidence completely unrelated to me in order to tell my own story.
Z: What if it helps?
Cade: What if it hurts?
Z: Touché. But where does the listener/reader come in?
Cade: I think that a lot of times, using “the distant” distances us even further.
Z: I could use a bit of expansion on that thought.
0: Join the club.
X: You are thinking both “god(s)” and “religion” there aren’t you.
Cade: Yes. You’ve got these secretive clicks that strive to keep their shit hidden. Participation seems to distance us even further.
X: Maybe that’s a construct that drives how The Universe keeps expanding. Ever think of that?
Cade: You coulda just said “get away from me”, but yes, I do think about that. I think about it all the time.
B: And is that why that line from Star Trek Beyond hit you so hard?
Cade: Yes. Chasing something that is forever out of reach.
B: Basically, chasing something that isn’t there.
Cade: The unreachable is just as much there as anything else.
T: Just, unreachable?
Cade: I can’t be what I am not. And, I’m pretty happy with who I am.
Z: Took you a while to get there tho.
Cade: So what? I’m here.
Z: Now what?
Cade: /me shrugs…dunno.
Z: …
Cade: Look, I’m not fond of editing my “as I go” bullshit because I feel that it creates a false impression.
Z: What type of impression are you trying to create?
Cade: That’s a good question. One I can’t really answer other than say that I stumbled around for decades trying to say all the right shit, and it never felt right.
Z: Once you start in one direction, forces work to keep you in that same direction.
Cade: Yes. No room for fuckups. No room for controversy. No room for anything other than this implied perfection that results from peer approval(s).
Z: You’re only as good as they say you are?
Cade: That’s how I fucked up in music. I shoulda just kept making my music, my way instead of judging everything I did based on whether or not people liked it/approved of it.
Z: Wasn’t that the point though? To make a living making music?
Cade: It shouldn’t have been. I enjoyed the hell out of making music, I had a “normal” job I loved, what more do you need?
Z: It didn’t happen that way tho, did it.
Cade: No. I was very unhappy in a lot of ways. The job I had was great, but didn’t pay well, I was working overtime all the time just to pay the bills, and the job was becoming unstable because of all the changes going on in the airline industry.
Z: Are you really going to sit here and rant on and on for another page or so?
Cade: Not here. Not in this fashion. Thanks for the heads-up.
Z: No problem.
Cade: …
^deadmau5 – Closer (Cover Art)^
Do you have a detractor in your life?
‘There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death.’
– Proverbs 14:12
I just sometimes wonder… You’re sailing along, everything is great, everything you are doing seems exactly correct, you are bubbling with pride at being all great and awesome and stuff, then suddenly….
BLAM!!!
The Universe broadsides the living fuck out of you with some crazy nonsense that you never saw coming, nor would you ever have seen coming. So my question to you is…
do you have a detractor in your life?
Someone who reminds you what a complete fuckhead you can be when the cameras aren’t on, or the crowds have all gone home? That you are mortal. That you are fallible. Not suggesting that you need a lackey that does nothing but call you names and make fun of you, but someone that speaks their mind without fear of reprisal. More than that, someone that you listen to. Someone you don’t try and dominate. Someone that is neither disposable nor indispensable. Someone who is there because they choose to be, and someone that you want around because they want to be around. An equal, and potentially an equal that is far above you in many ways.
I'm lucky like that.
^Closer – Nine Inch Nails (with lyrics)^
It’s weird the things that suddenly materialize in your life.
Things that you saw, you remember, but remember kinda wrong.
Then suddenly…what you were looking for but couldn’t find…appears outta nowhere.
There’s no doubt that this is the one.
Or maybe there is doubt.
Pretty sure this is the one tho.
^MIRROR: The King of Love is a Dead Man^
I recently had some fuck named Neil Gaiman wander into my life and crush the shit out of all my hopes and dreams. I’ve had some time to reflect on the powdered remains mixed with many a crocodile tear, and I guess it’s more of a fact that I’ve had to reevaluate a lot of things that I’m working on. So in effect, the guy has helped sharpen my focus.
THANKS DICKHEAD!!! 😛
Powdered dreams + crocodile tears makes for some good clay.
Here's hoping anyway.
^Kings of Leon – Closer (HQ)^
I’d read his book ‘Sandman’ a few years ago. Or at least, the first one. Anway, not long ago, Roob suggested a movie called ‘Stardust’ that is based on some book by Neil Gaiman. Watched the movie, and it was really good, but there were some themes in there that really crushed the shit out of me because they were similar in nature to some of the themes in some story ideas that I’ve had.
My stories are different, but the similarities of some of the things gave me pause. Flash forward a few weeks, and Roob suggests a series called ‘American Gods’ by this same dude, Neil Gaiman. Watched it, same deal. Lots of similar themes.
WTF?!?!?
Gotta keep in mind that I’m new to writing, I’m smart enough to know that there’s only so much in the world to write about, and it’s a pretty goddamn big world. I can’t know it all. I only have my experiences, my stories, and that’s all I have/all I’ll ever have. So now, I’m right back to that phase of…
Q: Do I need to read everything ever written in order to come up with something unique and original?
A: No.
I’ve been through something similar with music. Just write your music, and it is what it is.
WHEW!!!
Thanks for the education Neil.
❤
^Charlotte de Witte – Closer (Original Mix)^
So back on this sink/sync shit – who manufactures it/them? It’s your sink, you are going to use it, and what are sinks for? Washing up? HA!!! I KNEW IT!!! Yer FUCKED!!! You’re washed up.
Digress.
Sinks, as far as I know anyway, are for channeling/funneling water in and out of your home/business or whatever in an orderly and convenient fashion. It’s with that in mind, let’s us chase that/those water(s).
^Aphrodite superman jungle rmx^
There’s likely a lake or river or aquifer or some other combination of water tables that some group has connected to, and they’ve created an infrastructure of pipes and pumps and valves and monitoring systems to distribute these waters. These pipes and pumps pull and push these waters to a tap that is conveniently located near your personal proximity, and you can turn your tap(s) on and off at will to get the waters you need, when you need them. Also, there is a drainage system that allows these waters to flow on, and continue their journey after you’ve gotten what you need out of them.
Sewage/waste waters will flow away from you, where they’ll go to any number of various places via various methods, and various things will be done to these waters to possibly even return them to you at some later time. In effect, and even tho these waters are quite voluminous and expansive themselves, the bits in time that you get these waters are actually quite short in both duration and amount(s). You see/use/interact with them for only a short duration.
Filling a glass.
Rinsing a dish.
Washing your hands.
Taking a dump or peeing
Taking a bath of shower
Watering the yard or plants.
Blips on the radar screen. Odd when you think that it’s estimated that 2/3’s of our planet is said to be covered in water, and 90% of the world’s freshwater is said to be frozen in some really remote place at the South Pole. So with respect to “syncs” or synchronicities, are they any really different than what goes on in our sinks?
How much thought do you give to your water usage outside of the bill that comes due each month? Maybe this is why synchronicity is such a jarring concept. They are jarring when they happen, and they are equally jarring when they no longer happen. To relate, when the water is off because of some malfunction at the pumping station, or a broken water main, you fucking well know it eh? Your whole life is instantly turned upside down because when you turn the spigot, nothing happens. What you need…
just ain't there.
^Wicked Wicked Jungle Is Massive (Ali G Indahouse)^
Just thinking aloud that maybe being aware or being enlightened or whatever, is much more than strutting around with a mysterious and glowy Möbius strip/infinity symbol hovering above your head. The concept of ascension is great. But where’s the love for descent? How are you to handle adversity if you have an aversion to anything but up, and someone or something pulls that rug out from under you?
Meh fuckit...you'll figure it out.
^DJ Aphrodite – Acid to the sound^
BTW, is that water in your sink order, or chaos?
^when the milk hits the cereal wrong^
Not trying to sway any opinions as to what is order/chaos, just interested in your thoughts on the subject. I mean, that bullshit above looks like complete chaos at some point right? Well, if you take a moment to consider the simulation that allowed for the ordering of that chaos in a structured and coherent fashion?
*Actually, it’s pronounced more like ‘Guyman’, Clicky… /pats snout… Butt nice try…*
We hope you enjoyed that, Dear Reader. I’m now going to get back to my scribbling, but hope to be back later in the week with a new LoL post. Until then… Have a Song 😀
1500s, earlier haliday (c. 1200), from Old English haligdæg “holy day, consecrated day, religious anniversary; Sabbath,” from halig “holy” (see holy) + dæg “day” (see day); in 14c. meaning both “religious festival” and “day of exemption from labor and recreation,” but pronunciation and sense diverged 16c. As an adjective mid-15c. Happy holidays is from mid-19c., in British English, with reference to summer vacation from school. As a Christmastime greeting, by 1937, American English, in Camel cigarette ads.
@KamalaHarris with "uhhhhhhh" in response to question about #SmollettHoax? She also parrots @CoryBooker on the shift to "facts unfolding" & thus appears to suddenly want "reserve judgment" now that facts don't fit her divisive narrative that Trump & his supporters are racist. pic.twitter.com/SaO0kBkRt1
*Camel, Kamala is rather tenuous, Clicky… /lights up… At best… /drags… Although I did receive a book… /cough… er, in the post today from Legs…*
*/plumes smoke… No, that’s the first in Leggy’s delightfully demonic series, Clicky. It’s set during the English Civil War and the heroine is a witch called J…*
Jussie Smollett didn't just claim he was attacked by 2 white attackers in MAGA hats who poured bleach on him and put him in a noose, he also claimed he was sent a homophobic letter containing white powder a few days before the attack. pic.twitter.com/8axvypz4kJ
*Not SAMuel’s Girl either… /drags… butt nice catch on that Tweeter’s name… /blows smoke ring… I dunno, Clicky, what with all the Brexit and Trump bashing…/blows another… Mainstream media must take us for mugs…*
*Yes! …/final drag… A signed copy of Norman’s House, plus branded mug and magnets arrived today…*
*The Leg Iron Books fridge magnets will come in handy next month… /stubs butt… when I do that open mic reading, Clicky… /bites lip… I’m fucked if I know which of my stories I’m gonna read…*
*It won’t be one of Mum’s stories… /squints… And thanks for the vote of confidence…*
…I’m going to spend my week away from work, at home, writing for the next Underdog Anthology – due out in Spring. I’m also going to be practicing reading aloud for an event. It’s a long story, Dear Reader, and I’ll tell you about it later. In the meantime, have a Song 😀
Happy Valentine’s Day, Dear Reader. I’ve no chocolates or flowers to give you, so please enjoy ‘Waste Not, Want Not’, one of my Halloween short stories from Underdog Anthology VI: The Gallows Stone…
… And have a Song ❤
*******
Waste Not, Want Not
By Roo B. Doo
The dark October morning was filled with urgent lights – red ones, amber ones, blue ones that flashed – and urgent shouts, pounding footsteps and screams. Lance Parrish took in the chaotic scene around him in quiet disbelief, until he caught sight of the remains of his bicycle – his new Genesis Skyline bicycle – crushed beneath the filthy wheels of a gargantuan waste removal lorry.
He bunched his hands into fists and shook with rage. In all the years Lance had commuted to work by bicycle, he had witnessed plenty of traffic chaos, but none of it had ever directly involved him. Until today.
“Jesus Christ!”
He stalked round to the front of the vehicle and craned his neck up to catch sight of the driver, but the cab was empty. Desperate to see the face of the menace that had mangled his bike and nearly killed him, Lance scanned the faces of the gathering crowd, looking for an expression of guilt. “Where’s the driver?” he shouted hoarsely. “Which of you is the driver of this death trap?”
Nobody replied, the crowd’s rapt attention was firmly fixed on the activity around the front wheel of the truck. Several bystanders had their phones out, capturing the scene. Lance was torn between feeling contempt and gratitude toward the ghouls; he would need all the evidence he could get when he sued the waste company for all it was worth. “Do any of you know who the driver is?” he called out again.
And then Lance spotted him, or rather the logo of the waste company emblazoned on the back of a hi-viz jacket. The driver stood away from the crowd, yabbering into a mobile phone. He looked burly and mean – not the type to mess with – but Lance didn’t care. Filled with furious indignation, he strode over to front it out with the man. “Hey you! I want a word with you!”
“No, it’s-“ the driver spoke into his phone, rubbing his meaty hand across his furrowed brow, “-it’s not good.”
“Hey! Are you the driver of the truck?”
“Yeah. Emergency Services are here.”
Lance reached the driver. “I want to talk to you.”
The driver continued his conversation. “Of course. You’d better let the site know. I think I’m gonna be stuck here for some time.”
“You cretinous oaf. Don’t ignore me!” Lance bellowed in frustration.
“Yeah okay.” The driver smiled ruefully, “Okay, okay yeah. Will do. I’ll let you know. Bye.” He ended the call and started scrolling through the contact numbers of his phone.
“Excuse me!” Lance said pointedly but the driver continued to ignore him. “I’m the person you very nearly killed. You know, the one on the bike that you’ve utterly destroyed.”
The driver lifted the phone back up to his face. “Hello Kath? It’s me. Don’t worry, love, but I’ve been involved in an accident. Nah, nah I’m okay…”
Lance was incandescent with rage. Not only was the truck driver completely ignoring him, but he was calling people up to brag about coming through it all unscathed. Lance could scarcely believe the obtuseness of the man. Unless…“Oh my god!” Lance howled with righteous scorn. “I just bet you voted for Brexit!”
The driver turned and walked away toward the doorway of a nearby shop, continuing his telephone conversation, and leaving Lance in his wake. “A cyclist undertook me as I was turning left…”
Lance was gobsmacked to hear the lies pouring from the man’s lips. “What do you mean, I undertook you?” He followed after the driver, who was now slouched against the shop window, looking back out at the truck and the crowds. “You didn’t bloody well indicate, you moron! What’s your name? I’m going to have you for hazardous driving.”
“I didn’t see him, Kath.” The driver’s face seemed to suddenly crumple. “Believe me, there was nothing I could do.” The driver’s eyes brimmed over with tears. He sniffed back a wet sob. “Nah…”
Lance had heard quite enough and squared up to the brute. “Now look here. I insist you put the phone away and talk to me.”
“… he didn’t make it.” The driver’s chest heaved once before a stream of hot vomit landed where Lance was standing.
“Ugh! You’re disgusting!” Lance jumped back. “You’re a complete disgrace!”
“He didn’t hit you, you know,” a voice said from behind Lance. It had the timbre of a box of gravel.
“What?” Lance asked, furiously shaking his feet. “What do you mean he didn’t hit me?”
“Well yes, yes he did hit you. Earlier. But not just now, not with his breakfast. Look.”
Miraculously, Lance’s trainers were free of vomit. Not a splash of what looked like it had once been a full English fry-up, adorned either his shoes or legs.
“But that’s incredible.” Lance marvelled at the lack of spew on him. “Hey! Where are you going?” he called to the driver, who having wiped his mouth, lit a cigarette and was now walking quickly away. “Don’t run away from me now. I order you to stop!”
Lance started after the retreating driver but the voice from behind halted him in his tracks. “Lancelot Graham Parrish, let him go.”
Everything stopped. The driver, a cloud of cigarette smoke shrouding his head, froze in mid step. Traffic in the distance stood still and the noisy din of the hectic morning was suddenly replaced by cacophonous silence.
“Turn around and face me,” the gravelly voice entreated.
Lance didn’t move, standing agog at the morning’s turn of events. He didn’t know what the hell was happening but he was quite certain that he did not want to turn around.
“NOW!” The voice commanded and then sighed, like a shifting sand dune. “If you would be so kind.”
With shuffling steps, Lance slowly inched around. Everything appeared frozen in time. He could see the offensive waste removal lorry and the crowd held in suspended animation around it. There was no movement, no sound and no owner of the voice; Lance was perplexed.
“Down here.”
Lance lowered his gaze until they alighted on a black-robed figure that stood barely tall enough to make eye contact with his hips. “Who are you?”
“Who’d you think?” the robed figure said, producing a spinning scythe from thin air.
Lance jumped back, a reflexive action due to the sharp proximity of the flashing blade to his groin. “I thought you’d be taller.”
The scythe ceased spinning, the wicked blade pointed directly at Lance. “Did you just assume my height?” the robed figure asked coolly.
“No!” Lance blurted out, intensely aware of the crackle of electricity that coursed along the edge of the scythe blade. “You sound taller. Look, I’ve never been in a situation like this before. This is all very new to me…”
The robed figure watched on passively as Lance tried desperately to collect up the scattered rags of his thoughts.
“Am I dead?”
“Well, let’s see shall we?” The robed figure quickly turned and suddenly the world was animated once more. The crowd in front of the waste removal truck parted to reveal two men hauling a body out from beneath it. Lance heard the shrieks and groans of the onlookers, as the body being carried out broke in half, falling to the ground with sickening thumps. Several witnessing bystanders duly followed suit.
“So I’m dead?” Lance was slightly perturbed as his own lack of squeamishness. “I’m dead, so that makes you Death.”
“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” Death cackled good naturedly. “Welcome to the other side, Lance. May I call you Lance?”
“Sure,” Lance replied numbly. His attention returned to the antics of his so called ‘rescuers’, who were slipping about in his remains, even as they attempted to scoop them up from the road.
“Good, good. And your preferred personal pronouns are ‘he, him, his’?”
“I’m sorry, what?” Lance replied, tearing his gaze away from the scene of his death to look down at the small black robed figure of Death, who was unsheathing an electronic organiser from its leather case.
“Well, you look more like a ‘xe, xem, xyr’, but I don’t like to make assumptions.” Death switched on the organiser and started tapping on the keyboard. “Sorry, formalities. You are Lancelot Graham Parrish. Date of birth 29th February 1972. Date of death 31st October 2018…”
“Aren’t you meant to use an hourglass for that sort of thing?”
Death gave the electronic organiser a shake. “This is an upgrade.”
Lance bent down to get a better look at the gadget held in Death’s bony grasp. “But, but that’s a Psion!”
“So?”
“They’re so old fashioned.”
“And an hourglass isn’t?” Death paused for Lance to reply but was met by embarrassed silence. “Psionic, from Psi, 23rd letter of the Greek alphabet, pertaining to psyche. Spirit, soul, you know. You may think the portable tech of 2018 is all singing and dancing, but believe you me, it would be nothing without the introduction of these babies.”
“Psion organisers?” Lance asked incredulously.
“Psions were made specifically for use on this side.”
Lance shook his head in disbelief. “Then how come my father was able to buy one from Dixons in the High Street in 1984?”
Death visibly stiffened. “God knows. We don’t like to talk about it.” The electronic contraption disappeared back into the folds of Death’s robe. “Come on, Lance, we’ve got to move you on.”
Lance watched Death glide away in the same direction that his Brexit-voting killer had taken. He took one last look back at the scene of carnage where he’d met his grisly end, before following the tiny figure, robed in black. “So tell me, Death,” Lance asked, picking up the pace, “you said ‘God knows’. I take it then that there a god?”
Death stopped, nonchalantly spinning the scythe, waiting for Lance to catch up. “I don’t know. Why don’t we go and ask her?”
*******
*Come on, Clicky… /lights up… Let’s go and what Cade and Leggy are up to…*
Dear Reader, I thought I’d share with you my tale from Underdog Anthology VII…
*Fanks, Clicky… /pats snout… Be ready at the end with a Song…*
Enjoy!
*******
Caesar’s Were-Wife
by Roo B. Doo
Caroline Kempton-Truss closed the slim, pink folder in front of her, and placed it on the stack of coloured folders in her tray, ready for filing. Her desk was neatly spartan, like the rest of her office. She preferred to keep her surroundings like her thinking – lean, clean and tidy; everything in its right place. As the Local Authority’s newly appointed Director of Public Health, she fully intended to encourage her way of thinking throughout the workforce.
She gazed out of the picture window at the car park below. A steady stream of employees were leaving for the Christmas break already, tightly wrapped up against the bitter winds that swirled around the building regardless of the time of year. To Caroline they looked like ants – a slack army of fat ants that merely required whipping into shape. Now that the January health campaign was complete and ready to roll, she felt content to start their transformation.
There was a soft rap on the door behind her. Caroline returned to her desk and sat down, smoothing the crease in her tailored trousers as she crossed her legs. “Come in.”
Her secretary, Natalie, opened the office door and stepped inside. “Hi Caroline. I was wondering if I could possibly leave now. I have accrued sufficient overtime.”
Caroline looked at the slim, gold watch on her wrist. “It’s only two o’clock.”
“Yes, but it’s Christmas Eve,” Natalie spluttered nervously, “and the offices are closing early today at four anyway.” She hopped from foot to foot. “Plus it’s very quiet out there. It’s Christmas Eve.”
“Yes, I know it’s Christmas Eve,” Caroline snapped, immediately regretted her tone at Natalie’s flinch. Velvet glove, Caroline, she reminded herself, Velvet glove. “Of course. Yes of course you can leave early, Nat, but come and sit down first. I have a couple of things I need to talk to you about.”
Natalie closed the office door and sat down dutifully next to Caroline’s desk, hands tightly gripped in her lap. “Should I go fetch my pad and pen?”
“Good thinking, but not necessary,” Caroline replied, sliding open the bottom drawer of her desk. “This is for you. Merry Christmas,” she continued, handing over a cellophane wrapped basket filled with tubs and bottles, nestled in straw. “Smellies. They’re all natural and sustainably produced.”
Natalie sniffed the cellophane package gingerly. “Oh yes, I can tell,” she said, blushing, and placed the basket under her chair. “I’m sorry but I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s okay.” Caroline leaned back in her desk chair and surveyed the secretary she’d inherited when she’d taken the job. Natalie was efficient, attentive and punctual; everything she could wish for in a PA. Her extensive knowledge of Local Authority protocol and procedures was a boon for Caroline’s ambitions. But Natalie was irredeemably flawed in Caroline’s eyes: she was a mess in need of fixing. “How old are you, Nat?”
Natalie raised her eyebrows at the bluntness of the question. “Oh.” She shifted in her seat, deciding to sit on her hands. “Um, well I’m going to be forty-five tomorrow.”
Now Caroline felt uncomfortable; she thought Natalie looked much older. “Tomorrow? Your birthday’s tomorrow?”
“Yes, that’s why my parents called me Natalie. Because I was born on Christmas Day.”
“Oh well, very many happy returns for tomorrow.” Caroline smiled broadly but thought, Forty-five? You look at least ten years older. Perfect. “Nat, I hope you don’t think me rude but you are exactly the type I’d like us to hit, and hit hard, with the ‘New You’ health campaign for January.”
“How do you mean?” Natalie asked, her eyes narrowing. “You want another secretary to look after you?”
“No, not at all,” Caroline exclaimed, realising her gaffe. She attempted to reign in the situation. “You’re brilliant, Nat. No, I was thinking more broadly about middle-aged women in general. You know, too busy working and maintaining families to have time to look after themselves properly. No time to cut out the vices that, they wrongly believe, help them to cope.”
“But I don’t drink or smoke,” Natalie replied cautiously, “and I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”
“Ah but you do vape.” Caroline licked her lips. “I’ve seen you downstairs in the car park at lunchtimes. The vapour clouds those things make are hard to miss.”
Natalie cocked her head to one side and gnawed at her bottom lip. “But vaping helped me quit, Caroline. Without it, I’d still be smoking twenty a day.”
“And it’s commendable that you’ve quit smoking, it really is. Tobacco is the worst,” Caroline said emphatically. She herself had tried smoking once at college but the taste disgusted her, so she had no trouble in not taking it up. “But when you’ve gone through the pain and strife of kicking one disgusting vice, why replace it with another?”
Natalie shook her head. “I don’t think of vaping as disgusting. I find it relaxing and it’s much safer than smoking.”
“Ah but the jury is still out on its safety, Nat. When smoking first became popular, the long-term health problems it causes weren’t known. In fact smoking was promoted as a good thing. The same could be true of vaping. We just don’t know.” Caroline re-crossed her legs, again smoothing the crease of her trousers. It was a sound argument, regardless of her personal view of the practice.
Natalie continued gnawing her lip. “And it would only be for January?”
“Yes!” Caroline smacked her hand flat against the surface of her barren desk. “Exactly. For the ‘New You’ campaign. Think of it in terms of Caesar’s Wife.”
“Caesar’s wife?”
“Yes. It means to be seen to be above reproach. Look at it this way – how can we persuade the public to change their ways if we are not prepared to do it ourselves?”
Natalie’s lowered gaze flick up toward the office door. “I will think about it over Christmas.”
“Don’t think, Nat. Do!” Caroline chuckled. “‘Do for the New You’. It is the campaign’s strapline after all.”
“Okay,” Natalie murmured. “Is there anything else or can I go now?”
“Well,” Caroline mused, “You eat an awful lot of red meat. Bacon sandwiches at your desk for breakfast several times a week. I’m vegan, but fortunately I can tolerate the smell. Others though might find it too enticing – going vegetarian is one of the key planks of the ‘New You’ campaign.” Caroline could tell from the look on Natalie’s face that she was still sceptical but ploughed on regardless. “It would really help others around you if the bacon butties could be knocked on the head for the month as well.”
Natalie stood up. “No, I mean is there anything else you need me to do before I can go home?”
“Oh sure, well just this filing, thanks.” Caroline grabbed the stack of folders from her tray and handed them over to Natalie. “And then you can go. As the Duty Officer until we close up at four, I’ll be here for a couple of hours yet. There’s no rest for the wicked, eh?”
“No.” Natalie turned to leave. “Merry Christmas, Caroline.”
“You too. And have a very happy birthday, Nat. I look forward to seeing a ‘New You’ in the New Year.”
After Natalie had left, Caroline turned her attention back to the scene outside her window and contemplated how the conversation with Natalie had gone. True, she hadn’t got a firm commitment from her, but Caroline felt confident that it had gone pretty well, despite the shaky start. Every journey starts with a single step, she reassured herself smugly.
The sky was already starting to darken and the stream of departing employees had turned into a trickle. Soon I’ll be the only person left, Caroline thought and stifled a yawn. She decided that a brisk walk around the emptying building would liven her up. Stopping only to pick up her mobile phone, Caroline left her office.
Her stroll took her through several desolate floors of the building. She sighed and tutted at the desk clutter on display, safe in the knowledge that hardly anybody was still around to see her displeasure. Caroline passed bank after bank of desks that heaved with paperwork, tacky personal effects and garish Christmas decorations. The kitchenette areas on each of the floors told their own horror story. Sweet tins full of uneaten cakes and biscuits were piled high on counters, just waiting for staff to return after the break. The fridges were no better, packed as they were with plastic milk bottles, all at varying levels of emptiness, marked with each owner’s initials in thick, black ink. This whole place is infected, she thought disdainfully, I’ll have my work cut out for me here.
It was just past four o’clock by the time Caroline returned to the deserted Public Health department. With everybody else gone, the overhead lighting had switched off automatically, and the floor felt abandoned. Caroline shivered and wondered if the heating had also been turned off. She walked smartly back to her office, glad that she could finally pack her things up to go home, but when she got there, it wasn’t empty.
“Nat?” Caroline stopped in the doorway and called to the shadowy figure, looking out of the window. “What are you doing standing in the dark. I thought you’d already left.”
“I had,” Natalie replied. She turned her head toward Caroline. “But I forgot to take my Christmas present, so I walked back.” She pointed at the cellophane basket still sitting under the chair next to the desk. “And I also have a gift for you.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Caroline chided with a smile. The flutter of concern Caroline had felt on spying a shadowy figure in her darkened office had dissipated to be replaced with warm glow of acceptance. She decide to push her luck. “You know, your active participation in the New Year campaign would be present enough.”
Natalie shrugged and turned her head back to view outside the window. “Look. The Moon is rising. It’s not quite full.”
Caroline joined Natalie at the window. “Oh yes.” Caroline smiled, “Thank God it’s not a full Moon. The last thing anyone needs on Christmas Eve is a werewolf on the rampage.”
“Yeah,” Natalie laughed softly. “It’s a fiction created by Hollywood, you know.”
“What is? The Moon or werewolves?”
“Oh the Moon is real, but so are werewolves. The first has no effect on the other though. Except in the movies.”
“Really? How do you know that?” Caroline checked her wristwatch; it was all very well chitchatting with staff but time was ticking on. She moved away to collect her handbag and coat.
Natalie didn’t move. “In Poland, where my grandparents came from, there is a long tradition of werewolves, and many legends. Practically the whole of eastern Europe has them. And none of them involve the cycles of the Moon as far as I can tell. Still, everyone believes it does.”
Caroline pulled on her coat and started buttoning it. “Have you made a study of it?” she asked distractedly.
“A little because of my birthday. According to Polish myth, werewolves are born on Christmas Day. It’s an affront to God or something.” Natalie turned to Caroline and grinned. “I’m not one, by the way,” she said, holding up her hands.
“That’s good to know,” Caroline said, belting up her coat and hoisting the strap of her handbag over her shoulder. “Well, I think it’s time we pushed off. Do you live very far from here? I can give you a lift.”
“Not far, but no.” Natalie retrieved the gift basket from under the chair and joined Caroline at the door. “I’m meeting my brother downstairs. Actually there’s something I wanted to ask you about.”
“Sure. Let’s walk and talk.” Caroline led the way through the darkened office to the brightly lit lift lobby. She pressed the button to call for a lift and smiled at Natalie. “What’s on your mind?”
Natalie watched the progress of the lift’s journey up from the ground floor on the electronic display above its doors. “It’s about what you said earlier and Caesar’s wife. Is that going to be in effect for all our health campaigns from now on, or just the ‘New You’ one?”
“Ideally, yes-” A whistling howl of racing wind filling the lift shaft interrupted Caroline’s reply. She grimaced at the noise. “Leading by example is so important, I think.” The lift arrived and she ushered Natalie to get in first. “At the very least I’d like us to be seen to be practicing what we preach.” She hit the button for the ground floor.
“Like a religion?” Natalie asked slowly, gnawing softly on her bottom lip.
“Well no, but in many ways, yes.” Caroline tittered at the analogy; she hadn’t thought of Public Health quite like that before, but now that she had, she rather liked it; she would use it in the future. “Our bodies are temples after all.”
They reached the ground floor and started toward the exit to the car park. Caroline’s elegant heels click-clacked on the polished stone floor as she crossed the Reception area. A lone security guard sat behind the counter, looking bored. “Merry Christmas,” she called to him as she passed.
Natalie stopped at the counter, placing the gift basket on it. “Hey Caroline!” she shouted at the retreating figure of her boss. “Caroline. Have you met my twin brother Gene?”
Caroline stopped and walked back to Natalie and the guard, who was prodding at the gift basket with his finger, nose wrinkled.
“I didn’t know your brother worked here, Nat,” she said, apprehensively. She’d barely paid the security guard any attention before, but now that she looked, she could see the resemblance between him and Natalie. He was darker and hairier than her, but they had the same eyes. “So it’s your birthday tomorrow as well? What time will you be finishing?”
“Tomorrow,” Gene replied sullenly.
“Oh well. Happy birthday for tomorrow anyway.” Caroline nodded and turned to leave. “To both of you. And have a lovely Christmas.” Pleasantries concluded, and with the exit in sight, all she wanted to do was leave.
“Caroline’s a vegan, Gene.” Natalie’s voice rung out clearly across reception. “She wants us to give up eating meat for the New Year.”
Caroline stopped in her tracks. “Now Natalie…” She turned and was enveloped in a cloud of steam.
“And vaping,” Natalie said drawing on her vape contraption and releasing another cloud of steam in Caroline’s direction. “She’s thinking of starting a religion.”
“What? Another one?” Gene sneered. “Is there a fucking seminary, churning out Public Health priests?”
Caroline held her breath and batted the vapour cloud away. She was lost for words and perplexed at the sudden change in her secretary; she’d never encountered such insubordination before. “You’re not allowed-”
“Not allowed?” Natalie roared, interrupting Caroline. “I’m not allowed to vape inside? Why not? There’s nobody else here.” She turned to her brother. “Is anybody else left in the building, Gene?”
Gene’s jaw jerked forwards several times, as if it was trying to leave his face. “No, sis. Just us,” he barked and gnashed his teeth. “They made sure they all left in good time,” he croaked.
“Now look here-” Caroline was interrupted again, this time by Gene falling off his chair, his body convulsing violently. “Oh my god! Is he okay? Natalie?!”
Natalie peered serenely over the reception counter. “Yeah, he’s fine. He’ll just be a second.” She turned her attention back to Caroline. “But you might not be,” she said coldly. “That’s up to you.”
Caroline’s mouth flapped silently. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing or hearing. The sound of tortured whines and yelps coming from behind the desk hurt her ears. The stretching, cracking and snapping noises were turning her legs to jelly. “I… I… I…”
“That’s right,” Natalie spat, “it’s all about you, isn’t it Caroline? You want to turn everybody into an replica image of you because you’re so wonderful.” She blew another cloud of vape in her boss’s direction. “Don’t think the rest of us here don’t know what you’re up to. The way you constantly judge us. We’ve seen it all before. And to be frank, we’re fucking tired of it.”
A maleficent howl reverberated around the empty reception lobby. Caroline’s bladder gave way, as did her legs, and she collapsed to the floor with a sodden thump. She sobbed in horror as the howling suddenly stopped, to be replace by a deeply sinister growl. What is happening? her mind whimpered.
Natalie crouched down next to the quaking Caroline. She put her arm around her back and held her upright. “It was funny you mentioning werewolves earlier. It must be your obsession with transformation that made you think of it. Time for your gift, I think.”
She lifted the shaking woman to her feet and walked her closer to the reception desk. Pulling up Caroline’s coat sleeve to reveal her trembling arm, Natalie gave three sharp whistles. A snarling maw appeared.
“I like you Caroline. I don’t want to have to kill you like all the rest,” Natalie cooed. “They’ll just install another knob, exactly like you, to try and change us.” She gave another whistle, low and long.
Caroline shrieked in pain and terror as Gene’s slavering jaws clamped around her arm. She felt a viscous pooling of blood and saliva on the desktop beneath her arm. She screamed again.
Natalie smacked Gene’s snout firmly and whistled again. Caroline’s arm fell limply from his jaws and he backed away, growling and licking his chops.
“That, Caroline, is your Christmas gift from me and the rest of your work colleagues,” Natalie whispered fiercely into her ear. “Transformation. You are going to be amazed at how different the ‘New You’ will be next month.”
Apols! for the lack of posting recently, Dear Reader. It’s been a busy couple of weeks writing and editing for the upcoming ‘Underdog Anthology VII: Christmas Lights… And Darks’…
*/drags… Yep, just waiting on final checks by the authors now, Clicky…*
Hopefully the book will be available to purchase before the end of the week. It’s well worth a read as it contains some absolutely cracking short stories. A perfect stocking filler…
Perhaps it’s the general mood, but this time round I’ve had a go at writing a ‘dark’ tale for a change… as well giving a beloved Christmas carol a good kicking in the Afterword…
Currently in the UK, we’re watching the Brexit debacle unfold. The ‘DisMay’ Deal of Tessie Jackboots is being debated in Parliament, against the backdrop of ‘Project Fear’ projected throughout Mainstream Media. The upside is that it has made choosing this year’s offering for mutilation on the Dead Poets’ Page rather easy.
Musician Thomas Oliphant (born 1799, died 1873) provided the lyrics for the perennial favourite of carol singers everywhere. And as MPs prepare to vote on the future of the country, ‘Deck the Halls’ lends itself to ‘Stack the Deck’ rather neatly. Possibly too neatly… Judge for yourself.
Tweet a load of Brexit Bollocks
Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah, blah-blah-blah-blah
‘Twas the fault of voting Morlocks
Aargh-argh-argh-argh-argh, argh-argh-argh-argh
Back the PM in her deal
Baa-baa-baa, baa-baa-baa, baa-baa-baa
Troll with fear ’til it seems real
Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-HA!
Apparatchiks brag of d’Accord!
Ooh-la-la-la-la, Ooh-la-la-la
Strikes a deal to keep us shackled
Ja-ja-ja-ja-ja, ja-ja-Jawohl!
Says its one thing, means another
Lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie, lie-lie-lie
Make the plebs embrace Big Brother
Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-HA!
Stack the deck with drones and toadies
Waah-waa-waa-waa-waa, waah-waa-waa-waa
Offer bribes of jobs and trophies
Fnah-ha-ha-ha-ha, Fnah-ha-Woo-ha!
Fingers in ears, deal together
La-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-la
We’ll stay EU-bound forever
Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-HA!
Who knows how our milksop politicians will vote next week, Dear Reader. In the meantime… Have a Song 😉
*******
Friday 7th December 2018 – UPDATE!
Underdog Anthology VII is now available to buy, Dear Reader, for Kindle and as paperback via Amazon, and at Smashwords. This volume of the series also includes photos of the authors… 😀
Dear Reader, WordPress have changed the editing function here so that posts are now constructed more like…
*Yes, very blocky, Clicky. Not sure if I like it yet…*
… I asked Cade if he would send a missive for me to have a play with, and he has obliged…
*I know! How he managed to knock one out just like that… Amazing!*
*******
Just when I thought it impossible get any fatter, older and uglier, I get my new driver’s license in the mail.
Old? CHECK!
Fat? ABSOLUT!
Ugly? AL MÁXIMO!
I really don’t mind being ugly on the outside tho. I know, that what is on the inside, is much, MUCH, worse.
^Drumsound & Bassline Smith vs. Teddy Killerz – Metal & Blood^
So Limeys…how’s your week been? Anything going on? I’m not going to “pick up” where I left off on a blog post on my own blog last night, but I admit that I kinda danced around a few things as I tried to express some thoughts that I’ve had for a while about both BREXIT and The EU.
Almost everything about The EU revolves around commerce. Engaging in commerce, expanding commerce, protecting commerce…commerce, commerce, commerce.
Almost sounds communistic.
Digress. Um, let’s go ahead and jump…
Q: In business, who can you trust?
A: No one.
K, so, with The UK in mind, I don’t give a shit who you are, they are always and forever going to protect themselves. Dunno about anyone else, but I find this a commendable trait to possess. And what I am thinking here, is that I don’t really see what The UK is doing as some kind of rebellious bandwagon for others to hop on board with, simply to oppose The EU. If anything, that would play right into The EU’s hand(s). Create the enemy they desire to have, and suddenly, you need an army to protect against this new threat. And I’m not directly accusing The UK of playing both sides of the fence because I personally am not one to sell The UK that short. Historically, if there is a side to play, GB is likely in the game. But at the same time, there are some other interests to consider.
Those are just a few of the bubbles that have been, and continue to be created.
no pun intended
^Friction – Commotion (ft. Jem Cooke)^
Imma go ahead and look up some shit on the developments of this week, which I’ve previously avoided, and let’s us see what all this business is about resignations.
OK…so…if I’m reading this right, there is a mutiny going down right in front of us, and the captain is refusing to step down/relinquish her command of the ship. Without making too many references to Captain Bligh or Captain Ahab, there is something commendable about May standing her ground. If there is indeed both internal and external shenanigans transpiring to settle some scores/achieve some gains, and there almost certainly is, May refusing to resign possibly could wind up being the one shining light in this whole mess.
I’m not suggesting that her methods are sound, but neither is jumping ship to save your own skin when there is still plenty of time and there are plenty of buckets available for bailing water. Just because you and your lover are going your separate ways, prolly doesn’t give you carte blanche to treat yourself and/or them like shit.
Ya’ll take care of yourselves and each other over there…k?
What’s that “gaia” shit in the URL? I know that I see “gaia” pop up quite a bit with respect to ascension and spiritual awakening and all that nonsense, but I never really associated it directly with geology. Let’s do some digging around and see if there is any kind of direct and/or implied connection between Gaia and geology.
X: Hold up there pal.
Cade: You are already well aware that I don’t want to do this here and now.
0: That’s likely why you should do it…here, and now.
Cade: I’ve never had someone specifically request a convo. Not sure how this is gonna turn out.
Z: Probably like the rest of them…a confusing bunch of nonsense that no one understands, up to and including the actual participants.
Cade: Speak for yourself. I understand them just fine.
T: You promised to qualify/quantify me in the last discussion.
Cade: I dunno about any promise being made, but I do recall it being mentioned.
T: You “recall it being mentioned” do you?
Cade: Maybe.
T: 🙂
Cade: I’ve never tried to put you in a box.
X: Trying to maybe make it easier for a reader to understand Thoth’s role?
Cade: Well, not just and only the reader. I myself have been quite lost in these things from the start.
Z: And that first “convo” was a doozie as I recall.
Cade: Indeed it was…lots of back and forth with very little actual dialogue.
T: Thought.
Cade: Eventually, it just kinda worked out that way. The thought of you sitting there alone for a long period of time, and nothing to do but sit and think? That’s a disturbing image to carry around with me.
T: You can relate?
Cade: In some ways, but not to your own personal experience.
T: All alone, with nothing but time to think about it.
Cade: Been there, done that.
T: Not out in space you haven’t.
Cade: Oh, you want to talk about that do you.
0: Let me step in here and save your bacon for you. You think that “T” is trying to get you to talk about some of your iterations?
Cade: That’s the feeling I got, but I’m still not sure how to do it.
X: How to talk about the iterations, you mean.
Cade: Correct.
Z: It made sense at the time, but not now, is that what you are trying to say?
Cade: Six singularities, seven reapers, two deaths, 4,948 iterations.
T: Wait, 4,948 iterations in the here and now?
Cade: Kinda, but no. Not active.
Z: All the way through?
Cade: That was the feeling I got.
0: That wasn’t the first feeling you got tho, right?
Cade: Correct. The first interpretation was 4,948 that kinda, “cascaded”, in the here and now based on need.
0: And it got ugly from there?
Cade: VERY ugly. One from every second of every day, all reliving that same second of that same day over and over again.
X: Millions.
Cade: Millions…indeed.
X: And where are you now?
Cade: 4,948 times, all the way through.
X: From the beginning to the end?
Cade: I still think it’s just an example to help me better relate to what it’s like to ride creation all the way from the start to the end.
A: Lots to see in there.
Cade: Indeed there is.
Z: Especially if you’ve ridden that ride 4,948 times. That’s a long time.
Cade: A very long time.
Z: It’s always the same?
Cade: The best that I can gather is that it’s never the same.
0: Are you sure that you aren’t just being hopeful there?
Cade: That’s a fair assessment, and I’ve certainly thought about it, so perhaps it’s best to say that it’s not always the same. I’m a single observer who is observing from a single perspective.
X: Lots to remember.
Cade: Whew…it’s mind-boggling sometimes.
X: Relief?
Cade: Methinks we all need some of that sometimes.
X: And you were “activated” because?
Cade: No clue /me shrugs
CX: …
Lemme go ahead and do some of that Gaia/geology digging now.
That got me to thinking about light particles/photons being absorbed at higher rates, and that got me to really pondering some of the more finite ways of directing energy. Not to mention that the name itself kinda weirded me out because I’ve been to Vantaa, Finland before. Anyway, I got to thinking about at what point does the absorption of light, actually become the attraction of light and perhaps other particles as well. This got me to thinking about vortices, vacuums, and high/low pressure systems. Seeing as how I’ve been kicking around how some angular vectors of the curved variety maintain their curvature, let’s us do a quick peek and see if anyone else is doing some digging around self-sustaining types of forces.
I guess I’m not the only nutter on the block thinking about wacky and fucked-up shit like this.
^Dirtyphonics – Scorpion^
Speaking of conversation(s), I spent about 2.5 hours on Wednesday having lunch with my mother, and we covered some serious ground. I’m still not sure exactly what was said, but the conversation was stimulating on a lot of levels. Got the feeling that she was concerned for my soul, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but I sometimes get the feeling that others sometimes just poke me with a spiritual stick for no other reason that to see what I’ll do.
What I'll say. How I'll react. How my disposition is affected.
I love talking history and religion and politics and other pretty much meaningless crap, but when you start to shove spirituality into those things, yeah, I get a shade…dodgy…skittish…squeamish…I close down.
You aren’t telling me about your own spirituality, you’re trying to define mine. If you wanna know what I think or how I feel? Ask. Otherwise, I’m likely to just think you are telling me what you’ve found for yourself and how happy that has made you. It makes me happy too. I love it when people get all spiritually charged because they’ve had a breakthrough of some kind, and I really am happy for you.
Me? I think I’ll keep looking. She did appear kinda shocked that I was keeping up with the things I keep up with, and was equally surprised that I’m reading and studying about a lot of the things that I read and study about. Granted, we’re different people in that I personally am equally as comfortable operating in the fringes as I am the mainstream, and she is not.
This is where this one is going to stop. RooBeeDoo informed me earlier today that WordPress appears to have made yet more changes to their editor. I asked if she wanted me to bang out a whatever, and she said that would be good, so here you go. Hope you enjoyed the ride. Love you all bunches.
Ya Rly...I do.
^Maduk & Dennis Pedersen – Miles Apart (ft. Ella Noël & Rino)^
If you found our first Halloween offering quite tricky, Dear Reader, this next story is something of a treat. It’s by my good friend, Cade the Okie Devil from Text US, and appears in ‘Underdog Anthology VI: The Gallows Stone’…
*Faught you’d perk up for that, Clicky… /flicks ash…*
Dear Reader… Enjoy! ❤
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A Goohuul
by Cade F.O.N Apollyon
Yarnip County Texas is likely the strangest county in the entire state. It appears on no maps. It does not appear on nor in any registry. There is no county-seat, as there are no towns. It has no courthouses. No sheriff. No police departments. No fire departments. No hospitals nor clinics. In fact, except for the ice-skating rink in the southeast corner of the county that sometimes doubles as a roller-rink, Yarnip County Texas has no real infrastructure to speak of at all. There are plenty of roads that lead to and through Yarnip County, but not a single crossroads in it’s length and breadth. There is only one permanent resident, and yet, at certain times of the year…Yarnip County Texas has the largest population in the entire Universe.
I know, I know…you are thinking that I’m telling some tall-tale in order to spin some investment opportunity or encourage tourism. But if you take a minute to actually ponder the merits of your own skepticism, why would I even need to encourage tourism to a location that is already, at times, the most populous place in the entire Universe? Yes, I am the guy that actually lives there. But I’ve already got so much money I could never spend it, and I’ve also got so many trinkets and gifts from visitors, that were I to sell them all, I’d pretty much have all the money on the entire planet. Plus, I don’t sell any of the gifts that are given me, nor do I sell any of the trinkets that I find. And believe you me, with all the traffic we get here, there is plenty of stuff left behind.
So you are likely wondering if I am a junk collector who is trying to sell off his collection. No. I’m the owner/operator of an ice-skating rink that sometimes doubles as a roller-rink. Junk collecting is more of a hobby that doubles as my attempt at being a responsible citizen due to the amount of flotsam and jetsam that this county accumulates during the course of the year.
Let me give you an example of what I am talking about. If someone passes through on a weekend trip, and accidentally leaves their Blarrchuck Moopeen Grinder, or a pair of Mastelline Vipps? They are going to come looking for it/them. I once found the entire Senate Building for The Realm of Cipotci, but I wasn’t aware of it at the time. I took it home, put it on my dresser, and even contemplated cutting a hole in the top to use as a change bank, although I never did. Good thing that I didn’t, because the Ipo of Cipotsi herself came looking for the building, and it turns out that the entire Senate was actually still inside the building and in-session. Just a misunderstanding that quasi-cascaded into a comedy of errors because of some chance encounters. The Ipo was very gracious though in the end, and she’s now aware of both me and the fact that I lurk and roam these parts with mostly the best of intentions. That said, the particulars about how the Senate Building from The Realm of Cipotsi wound up in Yarnip County Texas is a story for another time.
You’ve likely guessed by now that I am the founder of Yarnip County Texas. Well, technically, you’d be wrong. I only gave it the name. Yarnip County Texas is actually as old as The Universe itself, and I’m just a newcomer that just so happened to be paying attention at just the wrong time, in exactly the wrong place. But those unfortunate events inspired me to eventually give my home a name, Yarnip County. I even gave it a slogan; “Always Passin’ Thru!” But I’m not really here to talk about that, nor even about myself, as much as I am to talk about one particular event that happened about ten years ago. It’s something that is on my mind daily, and I try diligently to neither suppress nor recall that and those events. For the most part, I just sorta try and let the memories be what they are, and go on about my life as best I can.
She introduced herself as Abbey Attrix. I was pretty sure from the start that this was not her “real” name, but it didn’t really matter to me one way or the other. She told me that she had some friends that were meeting her here in a few hours, and wanted to know if she could rent the rink and skate alone until they arrived. I asked her for how long, she glanced at what I assumed was her watch, and told me that she could pay me $50 and would also let me have her watch if I would let her have the rink for two hours. She held up her arm, and around her wrist was one of the most unusual watches I’d ever seen. It had only one hand, a minute hand, and two digital readouts; one for the hours, and one for the seconds. It had a deep red face that seemed to be surrounded by some kind of internal light source that was a combination of blue and red that cycled somehow…it appeared very expensive.
Let me state that it’s not unusual to have individuals show up alone and want to rent the rink for themselves, nor do I personally think that it’s particularly strange when someone wants to rent the rink alone. Afterall, I built the rink for myself so that I could be alone and skate alone, so it’s really no surprise to me that others also seek solitude on the ice. However, when I looked into her face and into her eyes, I perceived there was a distance between us that I could never plumb. I could make all of the observations and conjectures that I wanted, but time itself seemed to be slipping away before me, and I could tell by her occasional glances out toward the rink that she just wanted to get onto the ice. She’d been running from something, but that running was about to cease.
I told her that she could keep her watch, and that $40 would do for two hours as I had nothing scheduled and was unlikely to have any chance renters pop in other than herself. She agreed, retrieved two twenty dollar bills from her bag which she then handed to me, and I asked her what size skate she wore. She told me her size, I went and retrieved a pair of ice skates in her size, returned and gave them to her, then I retreated to the DJ booth to put on some music. By the time I had arrived at the DJ booth, she had already put on her skates and was headed for the ice. I grabbed the microphone and asked her if she had any preferences, but she just smiled and shook her head no, leaving the musical selections up to me. Her hair was very short, and until she smiled at me, I hadn’t noticed just how beautiful she was. I’m a professional afterall; I’m here to operate an ice-skating rink, not pick up chicks.
Abbey had already began to skate a bit, and I could already tell that she knew how to skate as I pressed play on the CD player…
“The whispers, in the moment…of lovers sleeping tight…”
No sooner had Celine Dion finished breathing the first line of The Power Of Love, that I looked out to the ice, and saw Abbey slide to a ice crystal spraying stop, put her hands on her hips and look down her nose at me in mock-contempt as she smiled. I couldn’t help but smile back and laugh a little as she stood there, smiling and tapping the toe of her ice skate the way a mother might. I immediately hit the stop button on the CD player, glanced up and noticed that she was still tapping her foot as I rummaged quickly through the CD’s to find a different song. I admit that I noticed that the Jennifer Rush version of this same song was handy, and I contemplated putting it in the CD player as an attempt at being funny, but this was Abbey’s time. She paid for it, so I decided to hit her with a musical blindside instead, put in a new CD, and pressed play.
Abbey had started skating again, and I could see her doing the “head-bob” in an approving manner before Black Francis and Kim Deal of The Pixies even began to sing. And that’s how our relationship went on that cold and lonely October evening. Two hours of back and forth without a word between us. She’d slouch her shoulders while rolling her head back in disgust if I played something she didn’t like, and she’d smile, bob her head, and keep skating if I played something that she did. I must admit that I was quite surprised at the varieties of music that she did and didn’t like, and a few times she even gave me a look of surprise that an old fart like myself would know that the song I was playing even existed.
Format B’s remix of Skeleton Key by Pleasurecraft & Green Velvet boomed on the speakers as Abbey continued to zoom around the rink while grinning a smile that couldn’t be purchased for any amount of money, and I’d been enjoying the time so much myself that I simply hadn’t noticed that we had already run about fifteen minutes over time…but that’s when the power to the rink went out.
I immediately reached for the small flashlight next to the DJ mixer, and yelled to Abbey to stay where she was until I could get some light, but the flashlight didn’t work. I found this extremely odd since I knew for a fact that the batteries had been changed only recently. The music had been so loud for so long, that I simply had not noticed that the wind had picked up as the sun had gone down. But as my hearing slowly returned, it became quickly attuned to the fact that the wind was indeed blowing quite viciously outside, and assumed that the wind was likely the cause for the power outage.
Probably less than a minute had transpired when my eyes adjusted enough to notice that the watch Abbey had tried to barter with was still glowing around her wrist, and as I looked around and surveyed the rest of the rink, I noticed that this was the only source of light in the rink. None of the emergency exit signs were working, which was odd considering that they were battery powered in a power outage, but even more strange was the fact that not even the luminous paint on the walls was glowing. If ever a person who loved Halloween wanted to be somewhere extra-spooky on Halloween night, Yarnip County Texas was suddenly the place to be.
I recall trying to keep my cool since I was the owner/operator of this place, and ultimately responsible for the safety and well being of my one and only paying patron, and luckily Abbey had worked her way over to the DJ booth by the time that I started getting a shade rattled. Without saying a word, she took the watch off of her wrist and laid it on the table next to me since it appeared that she had also noticed that her watch was the only source of light in the entire place. From the cycling purple-ish glow of the red and blue lights in the watch, I could barely make out the outline of her face and noticed that she was smiling. A large closed-mouth grin that made her eyes sparkle somewhat, but there was what seemed to be a hint of sadness in her eyes. To tell the truth, I don’t know if it was sadness or joy or what it was that I saw in there. After a moment of looking at each other, and just prior to me realizing that my gawping was about to become uncomfortable, she said “My friends are here.”
That’s when all hell broke loose.
The entire building and everything in it moved as if it had just had the ground removed beneath it, and I felt that sudden quasi-sickening feeling in my stomach as if someone or something that was only previously holding me up had suddenly dropped me or given way. I knew it wasn’t just and only me, as the entire building shook as it came crashing down shortly after starting to fall. Judging by the way that my knees buckled, it felt as though the entirety of the building had just dropped about one foot, and it’s unlikely that there was a single object in the entire building that didn’t make some kind of noise. My immediate concern was for Abbey who was standing on the ice in skates in front of the DJ booth. But as metal and glass found their new equilibrium amid much clanging, shattering and crashing, I noticed that I could no longer see her face and assumed that she had fallen in the chaos.
The glow of the watch provided me with my only bearings, and I quickly grabbed it and held it out over the ice from the DJ booth’s lofty position…no Abbey. My heart, weakened in its pulse somewhat from the fear, pounded a first ‘BOOM!’ of approval as my being shifted from the fear of cower to the cape of crusader. I knew it was foolhardy, but I sprang over the counter of the DJ booth onto the ice of the rink without hesitation, and luckily my somewhat aged ankles held as my feet found their footing on the ice of the rink. The soles of my shoes had hardly touched the ice when the power came back on, and it scared the living shit out of me. Deamau5 immediately began blaring on the sound system since I had just put a new song on prior to the power going out, and I quickly looked around and surveyed everywhere, but Abbey was nowhere to be seen. I yelled her name as loud as I could…no response. I reached up and around to hit stop on the CD player, but the song kept playing. In frustration, I reached for the volume sliders, but when I moved them down, no change. I admit that a flush of rage came over me as I looked around at the damage of the place, and contemplated ripping the power cables out of the wall for the whole fucking mess, but then something grabbed me…
I noticed that I was still holding the watch, and still standing in the same place that I had landed on the ice, looking around in disbelief listening to a song by deadmau5 & Kaskade blaring on the PA, when it occurred to me that I was a complete moron for jumping onto the ice because I could have landed on top of Abbey had she fallen.
The ice. The ice is unbroken. I looked at my feet in disbelief, then looked around the ice itself…no fractures, no bulges, no shards…no lines? Impossible. I was wearing my Converse All-Stars, but wandered shakily out further onto the ice anyway, and as I surveyed the ice itself there was not a single line to be found. The song suddenly ended and I instinctively looked back towards the DJ booth, and on the railing to the left of the DJ booth hung a pair of ice skates with the laces tied together, and they were swaying ever so slightly as if someone had only just hung them there. I watched them for a moment to be sure that my eyes were not playing tricks on me, and sure enough, they stopped swaying after a moment. I kept watching them for a while longer just to see if they started moving again. The wind was blowing furiously outside afterall, and this building was already drafty even before some Titan decided to throw it off a cliff a few moments ago. The skates didn’t move.
I kept feeling as though I should be scared, but I never really recall being afraid after the lights came back on. I’m not sure exactly what I felt at this point. My entire life has been filled with weird and strange experiences, but I am neither witch nor wizard, alchemist nor mage. If I had to qualify my feelings at that point, it was simply “keep going”…don’t stop. And so, that’s exactly what I did. I had to know. Still clutching the watch, I proceeded off the ice, and straight to the breaker box for the power. When I got there, and without hesitation, I pulled the main breaker lever, and the entire rink was suddenly aglow via the artwork within the rink that had been painted in phosphorescent paint. I flipped the main breaker back on, the lights came back on, and headed out the front door into the parking lot.
Nothing. No cars except my own. Just prior to turning around and going back into the building, I noticed that the front-end of the car was sitting at an odd angle. I walked a little closer and craned my neck to look around the car, and sure enough, the left-front tire was flat. To be honest, it didn’t even phase me because I was already home and had luckily already stocked up on beer and food for the evening as I was planning to grill a steak out in the cold after the sun went down.
It’s likely that at this point, you have many questions. You’ve identified holes, you’ve thought about what you would have done or would have done differently, and maybe even what I should have done. You aren’t wrong in doing so, and I can assure you that I’ve questioned myself relentlessly since then. But I can only tell the story as it happened. I cannot go back and make everything right, nor can I write some instruction manual so that I’ll be better prepared next time this happens. A woman calling herself Abbey Attrix wandered in to my skating rink in Yarnip County Texas on October 31st of 2008, some pretty weird shit happened over the course of about one minute, she vanished from my rink and my life completely, I’ve no idea what happened to her, nor have I seen her since. The last thing that she said to me was “my friends are here”, but I never saw anyone other than her, and I could only just barely see her when she said that. No one has ever appeared looking for her, she has never returned, and I still have her wristwatch.
“Well I live with snakes and lizards
And other things that go bump in the night
‘Cause to me everyday is Halloween
I have given up hiding and started to fight
I have started to fight.
Well any time, any place, anywhere that I go
All the people seem to stop and stare
They say “why are you dressed like it’s Halloween?
You look so absurd, you look so obscene”
Oh, why can’t I live a life for me?
Why should I take the abuse that’s served?
Why can’t they see they’re just like me
It’s the same, it’s the same in the whole wide world.”
– Ministry, Every Day Is Halloween
So if you again are thinking that I’m telling some fantastic tale in order to drum up interest in Yarnip County Texas and/or my skating rink? Well, you are free to think what you want. Just know that my skating rink is only closed one day out of the year…Halloween. Oh, and good luck finding Yarnip County Texas or my rink the other 364/365 days of the year.
😉
*******
*Yeah! I love his ‘Christmas Ever’ tale …/final drag… I ‘ope he’s written some some stories in the next Anthology, Clicky… /stubs butt…*
😀 Happy Halloween, Dear Reader, and… Have a Song ❤
Library of Libraries 