Brian: Look, I swear that’s Jesus over there.
Mike: I think you right, I tell you what go over and speak to him, and I will pay for dinner.
Brian: Sounds appealing, but blimey Mike it’s Jesus, what on earth would I say to him?
Mike: Ask him anything, I’m sure he’s very approachable, he’s only sitting alone having a glass of milk, maybe he could do with a bit of company.
Brian: Alright here goes nothing. (Walks over to a milk sipping Jesus) Hi Jesus, I take it you are Jesus?
Jesus: Of course.
Brian: So you are real then?
Jesus: What’s that supposed to mean?
Brian: I thought you may have been a rumour, you know born out of a severe case of Chinese whispers.
Jesus: My dear brother, I can assure you that is not the case. I’m real and I’m back walking the earth on this fine Easter Sunday.
Brian: Ah so you live again, again. In fact I lost count, how many times have you died and come back to life?
Jesus: I die for you. I die for everyone.
Mike: Hey Brian, ask him if he’s a Zombie.
Jesus: Michael, I am not a zombie, for I am here, now living and breathing, a zombie is the walking dead, I do walk, but I am not dead! I’m back.
Mike: What you doing here then? Drinking milk?
Jesus: I have come back to walk the earth…
Mike: And drink milk.
Brian: Mike man…
Jesus: Do you believe in me, Brian and Michael? Do you believe in the power of God?
Mike: Well to be honest mate it all sounds…..
Brian: Hold on mate lets hear what he has to say first! Say we do believe in you, and God and all that, what would that mean exactly?
Jesus: Have you not read the Bible?
Mike: Nah man, we don’t like books, I read the Daily Star though, but your not mentioned too much, no offence. So what happens if we believe?
Jesus: Very well., if you believe and follow our religion, read the bible and pray, and love myself and our Lord ,you will be granted eternal life, if you don’t you will perish.
Mike: Bit harsh.
Brian: We believe we believe, Jesus save us from our sins.
Jesus: I will die for the world once more! But first I shall finish my milk.
Mike: It’s been an odd day.
Brian: Don’t piss him off Mike, you heard what they can do.
Mike: Alright alright, don’t see why he and the mighty Lord get the final say so. I would like some say in how my life goes,
Brian: Shut up will you, can I trust you to not offend him whilst I go to the toilet.
Mike: (Whispers) I won’t, to be honest it sounds like a good deal, just read a book and do as we are told we get to live forever, Christmas has come early, ha literally!
Brian: Exactly, and he is gonna die for the world again this afternoon, at least we can go for a pint.
Mike: Okay. (Brian walks off and goes to the toilet, Mike turns to Jesus, who is just finishing his Milk) Jesus does it bother you that the date you died changes every year so it can fall on a Sunday, and the fact you died for our sins, and we celebrate that by eating chocolate eggs, bit weird init!
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Easter Special; Zombies - Jow Bates
I had little patience for Ikea. The vast MDF metropolis seemed to span on indefinitely past reasonable walking distance, the narrow paths adorned with boastfully simple designs that belied the complexity of their construction. The end rewards comprising themselves of infinite ketchup and the victory mantra of; "some assembly required".
"Not a good day."
I slumped against my hastily built and lopsided credenza, basking in the cool relief of pseudo-accomplishment. There had been little to no help provided for me as I'd navigated the endless towers of Ikea's warehouse-come-citadel, obviously another shopping centre in which I'm just sort of 'expected to know' what I'm doing.
"I fucking hate shopping." I announced to a jar of supposedly "Swedish" hotdogs. Still, despite missing a leg, the credenza seemed sturdy enough and I suppose I can take some solace in that.
"Cheers Sweden, here's to shit furniture, Vikings and inexplicably fast, rural broadband."
I toasted the sentiment with a cold hotdog, which I raised accordingly before swallowing the gastronomic afterbirth that was Ikea cuisine.
As evening bled away into night and the sky's blue darkened through pink to black, I lay awake listening to the wind. The increasingly rare sound of nocturnal wildlife ebbed briefly, adding it's own predatory serenity to the scene before the groaning set in. Between the gargled moans of vacant transience, the occasional crash piqued its way in from the distance. Like wayward drunks ambling waywardly into things, struggling to make their way home coherently.
Waking early, I sat up to gaze out of the third floor Ikea window, my back resting against the lopsided credenza now blocking the closet door. The morning sky looked more-or-less the same as it ever had, dawn seeping orange into blue. Less birds though.
Easter Special; Zombies - Pumpkin Sheepshanks
"Fast forward till payday.
Consume, recharge, deplete,
evolve in your sleep."
An old bearded man dressed in a cape sat on a stool reciting poetry in a tent on the top of the hill on a clear blue skied day. Local bands played to a few dozen kids on stages much too big for them. Singers stared scared into the crowd who were too bothered by the heat to care. A delinquint stumbled past an associate who was looking for his girlfriend, who had gone to get some food a half hour ago. The fear in his eyes was plain to see as their relationship was metaphorically like a plane to sea. The delinquint thought this quick enough to consider saying it as a show of wit, such was his susceptibility in reading people he instead mumbled good luck with a face than portrayed sad recognition of the facts.
Wandering through the maze of people, the delinquint vibrated at a frequency mutated by vegatable abuse and mineral malnutrition. he was out of sync with the majority of people here, bar a group of people he was gravitating towards. Dressed differently to the others, and with a slightly paler complection that from afar made them look like they were in a black and white photo cropped in the middle of the technicoloured perception currently presided over by the delinquint.
"Did you get my icecream" David asked.
The Delinquint tried to give a look that conveyed bemusement but given his gormlessness his face failed to change. "Does it look like I got your icecream?" The delinquint stammered.
David looked at him, hurt, and said "You could have eaten it on the way".
A bottle of Robinsons was passed round and the spread of herpes continued. Unbeknown to the group, their combined skankiness cross mutated on the crust surrounding the residue of the rim of the bottle into the worlds first viable zombie strain. Such was their unnattractiveness and lack of sexual appeal, their eventual deaths went by without effecting humanity as a whole. Their lives continued as nothing had happened.
Consume, recharge, deplete,
evolve in your sleep."
An old bearded man dressed in a cape sat on a stool reciting poetry in a tent on the top of the hill on a clear blue skied day. Local bands played to a few dozen kids on stages much too big for them. Singers stared scared into the crowd who were too bothered by the heat to care. A delinquint stumbled past an associate who was looking for his girlfriend, who had gone to get some food a half hour ago. The fear in his eyes was plain to see as their relationship was metaphorically like a plane to sea. The delinquint thought this quick enough to consider saying it as a show of wit, such was his susceptibility in reading people he instead mumbled good luck with a face than portrayed sad recognition of the facts.
Wandering through the maze of people, the delinquint vibrated at a frequency mutated by vegatable abuse and mineral malnutrition. he was out of sync with the majority of people here, bar a group of people he was gravitating towards. Dressed differently to the others, and with a slightly paler complection that from afar made them look like they were in a black and white photo cropped in the middle of the technicoloured perception currently presided over by the delinquint.
"Did you get my icecream" David asked.
The Delinquint tried to give a look that conveyed bemusement but given his gormlessness his face failed to change. "Does it look like I got your icecream?" The delinquint stammered.
David looked at him, hurt, and said "You could have eaten it on the way".
A bottle of Robinsons was passed round and the spread of herpes continued. Unbeknown to the group, their combined skankiness cross mutated on the crust surrounding the residue of the rim of the bottle into the worlds first viable zombie strain. Such was their unnattractiveness and lack of sexual appeal, their eventual deaths went by without effecting humanity as a whole. Their lives continued as nothing had happened.
Easter Special; Zombies - Moses Wallace
And it was at this very moment Jesus rose from the dead, but he didnt look all to enlitened, he was limping and making a strange 'URGHHHHH' sound. Not a sound produced from the tongue more of a humming sound from the pharynx.
"Oh my son, you truelly are the son of God" Mary proclaimed with joy as she saw her reborn seed. "URGHHHHHH" Jesus said as if a sign of recognition to his beloved Mother, while rapidly reaching his destination......
Mary half ran to embrace the saviour Jesus Christ, but as she did so he clenched more tightly then then first imagined. So tight her respiratory system struggled to draw breathe from the oxygen abundent atomsphere.
"What areeeee youuu..." a whisper of the start of a sentence came out Mary tried to concieve what was happening and why her only son would not let go, perhaps just a very strong sign of affection a thought pranced in her oxygen deprived brain.
A few seconds after the initial embrace, with one swift shift in weight and muscle drive the zombie Christ had his brunch in sight. Mary half concious could only dialate her pupils in response to this most perlexing and brutal act, while the original holy man of the dead munched on her fractured skull; face like a granny smiths apple.
Unbenown to the freshly suppered corpse the three roman guards who were on sentry duty at his grave had lept into action. Thrusting, jabbing and swinging at Jesus's back with no avail..... as now not only did they have the undead son of god but now he was PISSED OFF. A well timed spear attack hit directly where a normal mans heart would be, no such injury seemed to occur.
"In the name of God what is this obomanation??" the lunging spearman hoarsley shouted. "Haha I know this isnt the time but...really? In the name of God?? Don't think thats gonna help us" chuckled the second gaurd while swinging at the advancing zombie. while fear was very much evident in his eyes. "Get your arse here romus" they both screamed at the third guard who was in a ball on the floor trying to pray while gibberish came out.
BAM, the first strike hit the romans kneck with such force it rederred him unoperatable while he hunched down on the cold hard slabs of stone. The praying gaurd ran to the everpressing Jesus's feet. Which needless to say done nothing to stop the quick decapitation of the god fearing man. "please, what do you want? I'm sorry im sorry" the remaining man in armour sobbed, while glancing at the headless bosy and the other dying man.
"so much blood, so much blood" were the last words he uttered before his jugular was ripped out by jesus's teeth.
"huhmmmh, EXCUSE ME SIR!! I dont think that is how jesus's ressurrection happened!" infront of the very naustious looking sunday school of children, some of whom crying. "perpas your right, perhaps your right" said the one time sunday school teacher, who dropped out of school ealier that year.
"NOW, I must ask you to leave Mr!!!!" the reverrands mousy looking wife proclaimed with a might which wasnt evident with her frame.
"okayokay, but before I go...one thing I must say." Troy said while walking to the door and turing his head mid sentence.
"which is?" she retorted.
" Jesus was still a zombie" he laughed.
"Oh my son, you truelly are the son of God" Mary proclaimed with joy as she saw her reborn seed. "URGHHHHHH" Jesus said as if a sign of recognition to his beloved Mother, while rapidly reaching his destination......
Mary half ran to embrace the saviour Jesus Christ, but as she did so he clenched more tightly then then first imagined. So tight her respiratory system struggled to draw breathe from the oxygen abundent atomsphere.
"What areeeee youuu..." a whisper of the start of a sentence came out Mary tried to concieve what was happening and why her only son would not let go, perhaps just a very strong sign of affection a thought pranced in her oxygen deprived brain.
A few seconds after the initial embrace, with one swift shift in weight and muscle drive the zombie Christ had his brunch in sight. Mary half concious could only dialate her pupils in response to this most perlexing and brutal act, while the original holy man of the dead munched on her fractured skull; face like a granny smiths apple.
Unbenown to the freshly suppered corpse the three roman guards who were on sentry duty at his grave had lept into action. Thrusting, jabbing and swinging at Jesus's back with no avail..... as now not only did they have the undead son of god but now he was PISSED OFF. A well timed spear attack hit directly where a normal mans heart would be, no such injury seemed to occur.
"In the name of God what is this obomanation??" the lunging spearman hoarsley shouted. "Haha I know this isnt the time but...really? In the name of God?? Don't think thats gonna help us" chuckled the second gaurd while swinging at the advancing zombie. while fear was very much evident in his eyes. "Get your arse here romus" they both screamed at the third guard who was in a ball on the floor trying to pray while gibberish came out.
BAM, the first strike hit the romans kneck with such force it rederred him unoperatable while he hunched down on the cold hard slabs of stone. The praying gaurd ran to the everpressing Jesus's feet. Which needless to say done nothing to stop the quick decapitation of the god fearing man. "please, what do you want? I'm sorry im sorry" the remaining man in armour sobbed, while glancing at the headless bosy and the other dying man.
"so much blood, so much blood" were the last words he uttered before his jugular was ripped out by jesus's teeth.
"huhmmmh, EXCUSE ME SIR!! I dont think that is how jesus's ressurrection happened!" infront of the very naustious looking sunday school of children, some of whom crying. "perpas your right, perhaps your right" said the one time sunday school teacher, who dropped out of school ealier that year.
"NOW, I must ask you to leave Mr!!!!" the reverrands mousy looking wife proclaimed with a might which wasnt evident with her frame.
"okayokay, but before I go...one thing I must say." Troy said while walking to the door and turing his head mid sentence.
"which is?" she retorted.
" Jesus was still a zombie" he laughed.
Easter Special; Zombies - David Ralph
As it pulled back on its last breath, it stopped and thought ...
I'll go for another, munching on the side of its face displaced and in a very small space, no need for the seasoning get to the nitty gritty. your teeth u see are still a part of you thats alive in me.
I'll go for another, munching on the side of its face displaced and in a very small space, no need for the seasoning get to the nitty gritty. your teeth u see are still a part of you thats alive in me.
Easter Special; Zombies - Butters
...And as he rose from the ground, to each and everyone an egg was held. His face was withered and his eyes well sunken, this was not Jesus, this was not our brethren.
LOL ANON.
LOL ANON.
Easter Special; Zombies - Mr. Bastard
The stone rolled back and the screaming began.
Mary was confused. Was it the legs, the head or the hands? What killed this thing? He had eaten three from twelve and seemed hungry for more.
Remembering her teachings Mary intoned the secret mathematics that could only be spoken, never written, and shifted back in time.
“Here!” She cried.
Iscariot reeled, surprised, thinking himself alone. Mary had appeared from nowhere. She forced fifty pieces of silver into his hands. This smelt fishy.
“Make sure they nail his feet and hands, I'm pretty sure that's how you kill them. If you have a spare one do the brain, but mainly concentrate on the hands and feet. Generally I'm pretty cross with him.”
Iscariot was easily inspired and had recently invested in a carpenters shop.
Mary was confused. Was it the legs, the head or the hands? What killed this thing? He had eaten three from twelve and seemed hungry for more.
Remembering her teachings Mary intoned the secret mathematics that could only be spoken, never written, and shifted back in time.
“Here!” She cried.
Iscariot reeled, surprised, thinking himself alone. Mary had appeared from nowhere. She forced fifty pieces of silver into his hands. This smelt fishy.
“Make sure they nail his feet and hands, I'm pretty sure that's how you kill them. If you have a spare one do the brain, but mainly concentrate on the hands and feet. Generally I'm pretty cross with him.”
Iscariot was easily inspired and had recently invested in a carpenters shop.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Paradox - Pumpkin Sheepshanks
The Eurythmics played out through the clubs 40,000 watt soundsystem. Sam turned round to look up to DJ booth and gave a sneer in the dj's direction.
"It's like its the fucking eighties again" Jordan said, picking up on sams unimpressed vibe.
"This is rubbish, lets go get smashed in the toilet" Sam pretty much mouthed, so lazy to even amplify his voice to an audible level. It looked like he was singing to the song being played, such was the syncronicity of his lips to the sounds, but for the little thumb point towards the bog's that clarified the communication.
"Freshen up, Smell Good For the Ladies" the african perfume vendor announced each word as a new sentance more important than the last. The pair wandered around the toilet to the cubicles hidden from eyes, Pulling out a plastic bag each they emptied some of the contents of each one onto the plastic toilet seat, mixing the contents together.
"It's like an oxymoron of chemicals really, Md and k." whispered Jordan to his compadre.
"Do you get the feeling were waisting our time with all these drugs?" Sam pondered aloud not really seeking an answer.
" Well, the more you do it the less you enjoy it, but when you enjoy somehting you want to do it more often, it's a bit of a paradox." Jordan perked up on the cusp of narcotic inhalation.
"Thats not a paradox" Sam injected into the conversation "A paradox is a statement that contradicts itself"
"Whats the difference between what I said and what you said" Jordan asked in genuine intrigue.
"Words and meaning" Sam replied.
"Your a prick" Jordan snapped, "we come out to have a good time, but your a miserable bastard. you say the only reason you come out is to hook up but you never speak to anyone, you just spend all your time hoovering up drugs that you spend all your wages from a job you hate that you say your only there to save up money and travel but, thinking about it, your whole life is a paradox"
"I know, thats why im so miserable" sam said, smiling.
"What are you smiling at?"
"It feels good to be understood, you just pretty much summed up my life, thankyou"
Not knowing what to say and feeling a bit uneasy, Jordan finished mixing the chemicals together and seperated them into two neat rows. Sam rolled up a fiver and lowered his head into the same area of space many mans balls have been before. a small Phthirus pubis began running along the note. spurred on by the strange white snow that landed on it, it was halfway up the note when it was sucked towards the black hole infront of it, before being exploded back out down the note and into the snow it had came from at a force of a hundred and fifty miles an hour.
"Well, done dickhead" Jordan said in a montone to hide how much he cared his drugs just got blown away.
"I couldn't help sneezing. Maybe its a good thing, the universe telling us not to do drugs" Sam offered as an antidote to the waste he just caused.
"Maybe its incidents like this thats fuelling the drug market. Think how much more demand for powders there would be if it were all lightly laced with white pepper"
"Freshen up" The african advised.
"It's like its the fucking eighties again" Jordan said, picking up on sams unimpressed vibe.
"This is rubbish, lets go get smashed in the toilet" Sam pretty much mouthed, so lazy to even amplify his voice to an audible level. It looked like he was singing to the song being played, such was the syncronicity of his lips to the sounds, but for the little thumb point towards the bog's that clarified the communication.
"Freshen up, Smell Good For the Ladies" the african perfume vendor announced each word as a new sentance more important than the last. The pair wandered around the toilet to the cubicles hidden from eyes, Pulling out a plastic bag each they emptied some of the contents of each one onto the plastic toilet seat, mixing the contents together.
"It's like an oxymoron of chemicals really, Md and k." whispered Jordan to his compadre.
"Do you get the feeling were waisting our time with all these drugs?" Sam pondered aloud not really seeking an answer.
" Well, the more you do it the less you enjoy it, but when you enjoy somehting you want to do it more often, it's a bit of a paradox." Jordan perked up on the cusp of narcotic inhalation.
"Thats not a paradox" Sam injected into the conversation "A paradox is a statement that contradicts itself"
"Whats the difference between what I said and what you said" Jordan asked in genuine intrigue.
"Words and meaning" Sam replied.
"Your a prick" Jordan snapped, "we come out to have a good time, but your a miserable bastard. you say the only reason you come out is to hook up but you never speak to anyone, you just spend all your time hoovering up drugs that you spend all your wages from a job you hate that you say your only there to save up money and travel but, thinking about it, your whole life is a paradox"
"I know, thats why im so miserable" sam said, smiling.
"What are you smiling at?"
"It feels good to be understood, you just pretty much summed up my life, thankyou"
Not knowing what to say and feeling a bit uneasy, Jordan finished mixing the chemicals together and seperated them into two neat rows. Sam rolled up a fiver and lowered his head into the same area of space many mans balls have been before. a small Phthirus pubis began running along the note. spurred on by the strange white snow that landed on it, it was halfway up the note when it was sucked towards the black hole infront of it, before being exploded back out down the note and into the snow it had came from at a force of a hundred and fifty miles an hour.
"Well, done dickhead" Jordan said in a montone to hide how much he cared his drugs just got blown away.
"I couldn't help sneezing. Maybe its a good thing, the universe telling us not to do drugs" Sam offered as an antidote to the waste he just caused.
"Maybe its incidents like this thats fuelling the drug market. Think how much more demand for powders there would be if it were all lightly laced with white pepper"
"Freshen up" The african advised.
Paradox - Jow Bates
Sleep woke him to deafening silence, he closed tight his eyes to better see the well-lit darkness of his waking dreams. Time stopped as each second passed and the abstract ether of being merged holistically with singularity. His existential self-awareness embracing the singular importance of his own post mortem life.
All this, gone.
He couldn't possibly write, he didn't have it in him.
There's nothing else here.
Nothing.
Paradox - CammyWhite
"Freedom is slavery."
George Orwell
He got up in the morning, as he did every weekday, at exactly 6am when his alarm goes off.
He spends 30 minutes in his home gym, showers and dresses in his nicely ironed designer suit teamed with a brightly coloured tie and some new shiney black shoes.
He goes downstairs to his kitchen where he fixes himself a coffee with his cafitiere and reads over the newspaper whilst eating a healthy, organic breakfast.
Before he leaves he uses his ipad to check his e-mails and confirm the delivery date for the 3D TV he ordered last week.
At exactly 7.35 he leaves instructions for his housekeeper, sets the alarm and leaves for work.
He starts his new Auldi A5 and pulls out whilst making a mental note that the lawn needed mowing.
The drive to work takes 60 minutes due to the ammount of traffic on the road. He spends his driving listening to various of his CD's and taking calls from work on his hands free phone.
Once he gets to the office he has another coffee and then the day beginnings with a big meeting.
The day continues in a busy fashion, presentations, meetings, paperwork, adding numbers to column A and subtracting numbers from column B.
At 12.15 he takes a 30 minute break and spends the time ina near by cafe where he drinks expresso's, laughs with his colleages and eats a goats cheese and rocket bagel.
After his lunch he returns to work until 7pm, later than he'd like to stay but the extra money always helped!
He and a couple of other pop to a local wine bar for a a quick drink before he heads home.
He arrives back at 8.30pm and sits down to watch a film with a couple of beers before getting an early night in order to be ready for another busy day!
George Orwell
He got up in the morning, as he did every weekday, at exactly 6am when his alarm goes off.
He spends 30 minutes in his home gym, showers and dresses in his nicely ironed designer suit teamed with a brightly coloured tie and some new shiney black shoes.
He goes downstairs to his kitchen where he fixes himself a coffee with his cafitiere and reads over the newspaper whilst eating a healthy, organic breakfast.
Before he leaves he uses his ipad to check his e-mails and confirm the delivery date for the 3D TV he ordered last week.
At exactly 7.35 he leaves instructions for his housekeeper, sets the alarm and leaves for work.
He starts his new Auldi A5 and pulls out whilst making a mental note that the lawn needed mowing.
The drive to work takes 60 minutes due to the ammount of traffic on the road. He spends his driving listening to various of his CD's and taking calls from work on his hands free phone.
Once he gets to the office he has another coffee and then the day beginnings with a big meeting.
The day continues in a busy fashion, presentations, meetings, paperwork, adding numbers to column A and subtracting numbers from column B.
At 12.15 he takes a 30 minute break and spends the time ina near by cafe where he drinks expresso's, laughs with his colleages and eats a goats cheese and rocket bagel.
After his lunch he returns to work until 7pm, later than he'd like to stay but the extra money always helped!
He and a couple of other pop to a local wine bar for a a quick drink before he heads home.
He arrives back at 8.30pm and sits down to watch a film with a couple of beers before getting an early night in order to be ready for another busy day!
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Rain - D'oh
Eyes gazed out the window, “It hasn’t stopped raining since I got here” I tell him.
“Well, I’d like to blame you miss for all this lovely weather, but I’m afraid this is as good as it gets in England” Tony smirks.
“I like this picture” I direct his gaze upon a framed picture on his wall…the only picture he has hanging up in his small barely furnished studio apartment. It’s a picture of him with another person I do not recognize. A young, roguishly handsome Tony, dressed in an expensive dark suit with slicked back hair. He is standing amidst a stage of some sort with painted backdrop and thick maroon curtains draped either side. Tony is staring coyly at his partner in the photograph, arms outstretched, brimming a smile ear to ear.
“I was in the stage production of Chicago” He chuckles boastfully.
“I'm fond of this picture because it shows that…if you smile enough…” he lowers his voice to nothing more than a dulcet whisper, lowering his head closer to my ear “…no one's going to notice that you don’t know what the hell you’re doing” I turn to face him, in surprised by what he had just revealed. This was a man that, during his peek was revered for his talent, wit and charisma.
I laugh…a giddy childish sort of laugh. I’m reminded of why it was that I had admired him so. I’ll admit that I didn’t whole-heartedly expect him to still have “it”. He turned away and wondered aimlessly around his bare apartment “Ahh…yes!” he retrieves a chair and places it near the foot of his bed. He motions for me to take a seat…“Please”. He sits himself on his own bed. He had an unmistakably English charm about him, polite and well spoken. I sat on the rickety old wooden chair and the floorboards creaked under my weight.
“I’m sorry about the furnishings, or lack thereof…I’m not one for clutter” I nod as I take another look at his surroundings. It was unbelievably bare, but he kept it quite neat. The books that were sitting on his mantle were all arranged smallest to largest and his shoes were each aligned perfectly one next to the other by the door.
“You live here by yourself?” I ask.
“Ahh… Yes, I live here on my lonesome. Have been for nearly 20 years now. Right next to the Thames and all… there’s just something about waking up to the dense smog and rain, the smell of rotting sewage in the morning, it just can’t be beat” I laugh politely at his response and he grins contently at me.
“What about you? Tell me about yourself miss Adams…I hardly know anything about you, but here I am inviting a total stranger into my home. Albeit, a very beautiful, leggy stranger…but a stranger nonetheless” He spoke rather nervously and fast, mumbling some of it under his breath.
“I can’t imagine that I could scare a man such as yourself, Mr. Derwitt”
“Please, call my Tony… and you have no idea just how much, after all you are of the femaleular variety…” he leans in closer to me and whispers “…I hear they have fangs”
“No…” I laugh “…just claws” he takes a moment before realizing I had made a joke. He let out an admirable chuckle.
“Well, I’d like to blame you miss for all this lovely weather, but I’m afraid this is as good as it gets in England” Tony smirks.
“I like this picture” I direct his gaze upon a framed picture on his wall…the only picture he has hanging up in his small barely furnished studio apartment. It’s a picture of him with another person I do not recognize. A young, roguishly handsome Tony, dressed in an expensive dark suit with slicked back hair. He is standing amidst a stage of some sort with painted backdrop and thick maroon curtains draped either side. Tony is staring coyly at his partner in the photograph, arms outstretched, brimming a smile ear to ear.
“I was in the stage production of Chicago” He chuckles boastfully.
“I'm fond of this picture because it shows that…if you smile enough…” he lowers his voice to nothing more than a dulcet whisper, lowering his head closer to my ear “…no one's going to notice that you don’t know what the hell you’re doing” I turn to face him, in surprised by what he had just revealed. This was a man that, during his peek was revered for his talent, wit and charisma.
I laugh…a giddy childish sort of laugh. I’m reminded of why it was that I had admired him so. I’ll admit that I didn’t whole-heartedly expect him to still have “it”. He turned away and wondered aimlessly around his bare apartment “Ahh…yes!” he retrieves a chair and places it near the foot of his bed. He motions for me to take a seat…“Please”. He sits himself on his own bed. He had an unmistakably English charm about him, polite and well spoken. I sat on the rickety old wooden chair and the floorboards creaked under my weight.
“I’m sorry about the furnishings, or lack thereof…I’m not one for clutter” I nod as I take another look at his surroundings. It was unbelievably bare, but he kept it quite neat. The books that were sitting on his mantle were all arranged smallest to largest and his shoes were each aligned perfectly one next to the other by the door.
“You live here by yourself?” I ask.
“Ahh… Yes, I live here on my lonesome. Have been for nearly 20 years now. Right next to the Thames and all… there’s just something about waking up to the dense smog and rain, the smell of rotting sewage in the morning, it just can’t be beat” I laugh politely at his response and he grins contently at me.
“What about you? Tell me about yourself miss Adams…I hardly know anything about you, but here I am inviting a total stranger into my home. Albeit, a very beautiful, leggy stranger…but a stranger nonetheless” He spoke rather nervously and fast, mumbling some of it under his breath.
“I can’t imagine that I could scare a man such as yourself, Mr. Derwitt”
“Please, call my Tony… and you have no idea just how much, after all you are of the femaleular variety…” he leans in closer to me and whispers “…I hear they have fangs”
“No…” I laugh “…just claws” he takes a moment before realizing I had made a joke. He let out an admirable chuckle.
Rain - Jow Bates
23:47PM
Godot pulled the folds of his jacket into each other, hugging himself tight against the rain. Torrents of aqua streamed between Godot's fringe and down his face as he curled his neck deep into his chest to keep his vision from blurring. He hurried along the darkened backstreets of Akihabara to stand for a moment beneath the relatively dry shelter of the intercity railway tracks. The drone of the constant rainfall continued around him as Godot released himself from the cocoon of his jacket and began searching through the sodden cavities of his belongings for something to smoke.
The neon lighting from Akihabara's late night displays bled into the pluvious grounds of the city, shimmering as constant downpour distorted their reflected image. Towards the main strip a river of umbrellas fluctuated in and out of pachinko parlours and resteraunts, as people hurried between drier places to be.
The flint failed on Godot's lighter and he spat the damp cigarette from his mouth into a recycling bin marked for PET bottles only, he returned the ineffective lighter to an inside pocket of his black coat and leaned up against the nearest wall. The sound of a passing JR line train shook through the white noise of the rain and caused him to turn his gaze upwards to the rust imbued water that dripped between the tracks over head. Godot felt numb, having no money in Japan was debilitating. He wandered out from the shelter of the railway and ambled on down the darkened streets.
03:34AM
Godot swept his feet
Dampened spirits flew to meet
His aqueous dream
05:22AM
Godot let himself in quietly, the house was dark save for the dim glow of a microwave clock emanating from the kitchen. He carefully removed his damp does and sodden jacket before stepping anxiously into the corridor. She was asleep.
Rain - Pumpkin Sheepshanks
"Hot and sunny, thats all it is every day, hot and sunny" Bill Hicks' quote about the weather played on Ivan's mind. Sat in his five year old Mercedes, he listened to the pitter patter and wished he could enjoy the L.A sunshine like all the other lizards. Instead he waited patiently for his fare to emerge, grateful for technology that bombards the customer with a thousand texts stating the cab's outside and saves the cab driver from engaging in some much needed exercise. Half his life was just waiting, or so it felt. "How could life be so passive?" he asked aloud. he pondered this and came up with the same conclusion his been told a million times before; life is what you make it.
"Sorry I kept you waiting" Said the fare as she shut the back door behind her.
"No problem, town centre yeah?" Ivan replied upbeat, despite the sound of rain slowly crushiong his soul.
"What a miserable day" Said the fare, so unimaginative to talk about the weather so soon, "and it's supposed to be spring"
"drip drip drop little april showers" Ivan came out with almost in song, swerving to avoid a cyclist he saw at the last minute. "There's hope in rain" he said, quoting an episode of fringe he watched the night before.
"I would much prefer hot and sunny every day" offered the fare. Ivan glanced at her in the rear view mirror. In her mid twenties, she wasn't the conventional picture of prettynes but sexy all the same. Looking out of the window at the children on their way to school, the fare thought how life might of been different if her parents didn't force her to have an abortion at 15. Looking at the parent's walking with their children in the rain, she reflected it might not of been a bad thing.
"your not a lizard are you" Ivan asked whilst staring intently int he rear view mirror.
The fare laughed, "Yes, but don't tell anyone, we have to keep the reptillian conspiracy secret."
Ivan laughed, if the girl was a reptilian shapeshifter, she would surely be better looking and not on her way to work in a call centre.
"Did you know, it never rained on russia's parade day, if there were clouds in the sky they would spray a chemical on the water vapours so they fall to the ground before having a chance to form rainclouds." Ivan announced like an educational video.
"I was hearing on the news how rainfall in glasgow had nuclear radiation from the fukishima blast, thats quite scary." said the fare.
"As if Glaswegians didn't have it bad enough already" Ivan scoffed, never a fan of the Scottish, poor tippers in his experience. "Did you want picking up same time tomorrow?" asked Ivan, looking forward to being in the same enclosed space for five minutes again the next day.
"Today's my last day, Im going travelling for six months" replied the fare, beaming with joy.
"Travelling? bit too old for that aren't you?" inquired Ivan, suprised.
"pah, im 19, having to work in a call centre for the last 6 months has aged me it seems" said the amused fare.
"Bet you'll be glad to be leaving" Said Ivan, jealous of the lifestyle his fare was about to embark in. Despite spending his worlking life in transit, it was never anywhere he wanted to go. He had been picking up this fare for the last months and sad as it was, it was a highlight of his day. He felt in love with her since he saw her, but afraid to lose a much needed regular fare, never made a move. The girl smiled at the rhetorical question and Ivan decided he needed to do something drastic in this moment before the opportunity passed.
"Can i come with you" asked Ivan "Thats if your not travelling with other people already, its just i've always wanted to travel, but ive been too content watching life go past to actually do anything that i've wanted. i know im just your taxi driver, but im a nice guy, and travelling is cheaper with other people to help share the costs."
"I wasn't expecting that, as i say im leaving tomorow, I bought my tickets month ago im not going with anyone, i was looking forward to travelling by myself" The fare burst out with what sounded like objections, but stopping to think for a moment decided not to upset the cabbie, she saw something in him she couldn't pin down, "Sure, bring your credit card and get a ticket at the airport, my flight leaves at 10am"
"Really, im sorry to randomly ask to leech on like that, but, if you don't ask you don't get." beamed Ivan, suprised his cheeky question got accepted, "anyway, here we are, enjoy your last day at work. this is my mobile number, im going to go home and pack now, six month's you say were travelling for?"
"That's how much i've budgeted for, what about your home, your job, everything like that?" Asked the fare, not sure if the cabbie knew her name as she didn't know his.
"I'll get it sorted, ring me later and let me know the schedule" Replied Ivan.
"this is mad, but ok. ill call you later." The fare took the business card and tried to gove ivan his money. He just shook his head and smiled
"speak to you later" said Ivan, "are you going to hot or cold countries, just so i know what to pack"
"Hot, good luck getting everything sorted" said the fare. Ivan continued his smile, gave a little wave and began to pull away. Looking at the fare in the rear view mirror as she enetered her work building Ivan drove off in the rain, hearing it as a soundtrack to his overwhelming joy.
"Sorry I kept you waiting" Said the fare as she shut the back door behind her.
"No problem, town centre yeah?" Ivan replied upbeat, despite the sound of rain slowly crushiong his soul.
"What a miserable day" Said the fare, so unimaginative to talk about the weather so soon, "and it's supposed to be spring"
"drip drip drop little april showers" Ivan came out with almost in song, swerving to avoid a cyclist he saw at the last minute. "There's hope in rain" he said, quoting an episode of fringe he watched the night before.
"I would much prefer hot and sunny every day" offered the fare. Ivan glanced at her in the rear view mirror. In her mid twenties, she wasn't the conventional picture of prettynes but sexy all the same. Looking out of the window at the children on their way to school, the fare thought how life might of been different if her parents didn't force her to have an abortion at 15. Looking at the parent's walking with their children in the rain, she reflected it might not of been a bad thing.
"your not a lizard are you" Ivan asked whilst staring intently int he rear view mirror.
The fare laughed, "Yes, but don't tell anyone, we have to keep the reptillian conspiracy secret."
Ivan laughed, if the girl was a reptilian shapeshifter, she would surely be better looking and not on her way to work in a call centre.
"Did you know, it never rained on russia's parade day, if there were clouds in the sky they would spray a chemical on the water vapours so they fall to the ground before having a chance to form rainclouds." Ivan announced like an educational video.
"I was hearing on the news how rainfall in glasgow had nuclear radiation from the fukishima blast, thats quite scary." said the fare.
"As if Glaswegians didn't have it bad enough already" Ivan scoffed, never a fan of the Scottish, poor tippers in his experience. "Did you want picking up same time tomorrow?" asked Ivan, looking forward to being in the same enclosed space for five minutes again the next day.
"Today's my last day, Im going travelling for six months" replied the fare, beaming with joy.
"Travelling? bit too old for that aren't you?" inquired Ivan, suprised.
"pah, im 19, having to work in a call centre for the last 6 months has aged me it seems" said the amused fare.
"Bet you'll be glad to be leaving" Said Ivan, jealous of the lifestyle his fare was about to embark in. Despite spending his worlking life in transit, it was never anywhere he wanted to go. He had been picking up this fare for the last months and sad as it was, it was a highlight of his day. He felt in love with her since he saw her, but afraid to lose a much needed regular fare, never made a move. The girl smiled at the rhetorical question and Ivan decided he needed to do something drastic in this moment before the opportunity passed.
"Can i come with you" asked Ivan "Thats if your not travelling with other people already, its just i've always wanted to travel, but ive been too content watching life go past to actually do anything that i've wanted. i know im just your taxi driver, but im a nice guy, and travelling is cheaper with other people to help share the costs."
"I wasn't expecting that, as i say im leaving tomorow, I bought my tickets month ago im not going with anyone, i was looking forward to travelling by myself" The fare burst out with what sounded like objections, but stopping to think for a moment decided not to upset the cabbie, she saw something in him she couldn't pin down, "Sure, bring your credit card and get a ticket at the airport, my flight leaves at 10am"
"Really, im sorry to randomly ask to leech on like that, but, if you don't ask you don't get." beamed Ivan, suprised his cheeky question got accepted, "anyway, here we are, enjoy your last day at work. this is my mobile number, im going to go home and pack now, six month's you say were travelling for?"
"That's how much i've budgeted for, what about your home, your job, everything like that?" Asked the fare, not sure if the cabbie knew her name as she didn't know his.
"I'll get it sorted, ring me later and let me know the schedule" Replied Ivan.
"this is mad, but ok. ill call you later." The fare took the business card and tried to gove ivan his money. He just shook his head and smiled
"speak to you later" said Ivan, "are you going to hot or cold countries, just so i know what to pack"
"Hot, good luck getting everything sorted" said the fare. Ivan continued his smile, gave a little wave and began to pull away. Looking at the fare in the rear view mirror as she enetered her work building Ivan drove off in the rain, hearing it as a soundtrack to his overwhelming joy.
Rain - Liam Partridge
Sat in a castle, at the peak of a mountain, overlooking the forest surrounding - with a hot brew of herbal tea - our character sits and watches the sky fall and clouds fight one another, casting blows of thunderous impact, striking down from the sky displaying their might. He notices the animals take shelter under rocks and in what would be the shadows, trying to save themselves from the conflict above. Rightly so too, the hail begins to fall heavily... taking skin and fur with it as it falls like tears from the furious forces battling above. Our character however, does nothing. Entranced by the patterns of the raindrops and hailstones falling, he notes algorithms - listening to each individual rain drop and reading it like he was a machine reading binary code.Without moving his head or opening his eyes, the pen held loosely in his hand courses a series of illegible hieroglyphs on the page, up and down, side to side. Scribbling pages and pages of these unreadable notes, our character without hesitation only breaking his noting to sup his now cold tea. As the rain subsides, so does the note taking. The skies calm, as if they were at a point of resolve in solving their differences, unleashing a few more blows before they finish and then calm. Almost immediately, the sun breaks through the clouds (like it has just banged their heads together) and starts to clear up the mess left by the brawl. Animals emerge from their shelters and birds singing become audible again. It is at this point, that our character opens his eyes and regains consciousness, getting a fresh whiff of the damp and sunshine outside to snap him back to reality - his tea now lined with a 1cm film on the top from the period left untouched. He looks at his stack of notes and reviews his scribbles, arranging the sheets like a jigsaw and a collage - each fitting together on one or two sides to form a huge abstract picture. Less abstract than the original hieroglyphs previously would have suggested. On piecing the last sheet in the frame, our character holds this collage of papers up to the window and lets the sunlight shine through it onto the slightly wet stone floor and wall. What we see is nothing special, but what we sense is unreal. A dimension of the room that had previously been invisible, had now come to vision. Like the rain holds the power adds a dimension to our flat reality, expanding space and mind - if you can read and interpret the messages correctly. At this point our character takes two steps diagonally forward and to the left and disappears into the ether. There is no sight or sound of him thereafter, no remains or any physical information - just a resonance, that can be felt every time it rains.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Broken City - Pumpkin Sheepshanks
"Fuck fuck i'm late" said Charlie to the stuffy room as he walk's through on his way to his office. Forty year olds with rolled up shirtsleeves and coffee cups resting on their fat round bellys squinted through seventies detectives glasses at the young buffoon as he scuttled to his desk. In big red letters the word's "Broken City" were scrawled in messy hand writing, and several spider legs with words attached sprang out of it. The was a map pinned to the board with a pin coming out of every major city in the world. Two minature mathmaticians pondered over it trying to figure out the city in question. Lay lines were being drawn out from a place called Temple near London. a man with a black robe and a compass in his hand walks past in the background and someone mutters "what a terrible intern".
"yeah, well his the best we got" shouted the positive one of the group.
The rest said nothing as they were all on anti-depressants. They stopped caring before the drugs even kicked in. Charlie re-emerged to question hyphens, and everyone perked up.
"yeah, well his the best we got" shouted the positive one of the group.
The rest said nothing as they were all on anti-depressants. They stopped caring before the drugs even kicked in. Charlie re-emerged to question hyphens, and everyone perked up.
Broken City - Butters
I was given this by a strange man who was wearing a monocle carrying a beaten-up, old suitcase. It is not my literature. [Disclaimer.]
The King of Cities slept soundly between sky and scraper scared of nothing bar the starlight. Tired, he exhaled a bloom of dull orange halogens that rose upwards concealing only the most bright of stars.
Now he was the greater and only he could be seen.
Broken City - Jow Bates
James' eyes hurt, the dim glow of the computer monitor humming luminescence into his peripheral office space.
"I can't help you, James."
His mouse clicked ineffectively to itself, failing to shake clear the Outlook window that had affixed itself to the cursor.
"This is your own fault."
James tapped frustratedly at his keyboard, the fact that he was the only person left at work was becoming ever more present. As his tapping deteriorated into thumping, the PC in front of him exploded into a cataclysm of error-sounds and broken windows.
"Why do this to yourself, James?
James burried his head into his keyboard and sobbed, his wings unfurled themselves haphazardly across the cubical space, spilling a cold coffee from a polystyrene cup. Ashen feathers exploded over the similarly grey carpet as his awkward alate frame silhouetted the already dull surroundings of James' office.
"Go home James."
James' head remained resting on folded arms, refusing to greet the blue screen in front of him with defeat, his wings began to flap impatiently, displacing the notices and stationary from their assigned areas. He sobbed.
"You don't need to do this James."
"I don't want to talk about this, this isn't for me. I can't explain it properly and I wouldn't want to. It's perfect as an idea, it doesn't need to be sullied with a fucking artists rendition of the denotative. It's makes more sense with connotative idealism than it does with second hand retrospect anyway. Fuck it, it's a broken idea, from a broken man, with broken wings. No wonder it works so fucking well." - Typed James on the unresponsive keyboard, signing it off with an ironic tap of the return key.
"Are you finished now, James?"
James woke up to the repetitive electric barking of his alarm, his face burried into the pillow his was wrapped around. 06:00; A full day of work ahead. Karen leaned in to whisper matter-of-factly into his ear;
"Time to get up, James."
"I can't help you, James."
His mouse clicked ineffectively to itself, failing to shake clear the Outlook window that had affixed itself to the cursor.
"This is your own fault."
James tapped frustratedly at his keyboard, the fact that he was the only person left at work was becoming ever more present. As his tapping deteriorated into thumping, the PC in front of him exploded into a cataclysm of error-sounds and broken windows.
"Why do this to yourself, James?
James burried his head into his keyboard and sobbed, his wings unfurled themselves haphazardly across the cubical space, spilling a cold coffee from a polystyrene cup. Ashen feathers exploded over the similarly grey carpet as his awkward alate frame silhouetted the already dull surroundings of James' office.
"Go home James."
James' head remained resting on folded arms, refusing to greet the blue screen in front of him with defeat, his wings began to flap impatiently, displacing the notices and stationary from their assigned areas. He sobbed.
"You don't need to do this James."
"I don't want to talk about this, this isn't for me. I can't explain it properly and I wouldn't want to. It's perfect as an idea, it doesn't need to be sullied with a fucking artists rendition of the denotative. It's makes more sense with connotative idealism than it does with second hand retrospect anyway. Fuck it, it's a broken idea, from a broken man, with broken wings. No wonder it works so fucking well." - Typed James on the unresponsive keyboard, signing it off with an ironic tap of the return key.
"Are you finished now, James?"
James woke up to the repetitive electric barking of his alarm, his face burried into the pillow his was wrapped around. 06:00; A full day of work ahead. Karen leaned in to whisper matter-of-factly into his ear;
"Time to get up, James."
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