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| Short Sci Fi |
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| Sci-Fi Story “Chug, Chug, Chug, Chug!” yelled Mikey as Ivin finished his beer. They were all very intoxicated and paranoid that they would be caught. There were three of them, Ivin, Mikey, and Jake, and all of them under age. Ivin and Mike were sixteen and Jake was fifteen, almost sixteen. They were all having a good time, when Mikey showed them all something that he never should have. “What is that?” asked Jake, very eager to find out. “It is the weirdest looking thing I’ve ever seen!” exclaimed Ivin. “Isn’t it cool? It’s my brothers. He made it last night,” said Mikey. He seemed very eager to use it, but Jake and Ivin didn’t know how. Right before Jake asked Mike what it was he said, “Here you go guys, Ivin, you go first.” “I don’t know what it is, Mikey!” “Yeah Mike, what is it?” asked Jake anxiously. “It’s a beer bong,” Mikey said very mysteriously. “A beer bong? How does it work?” asked Ivin. Mikey gave Jake one part of it that looked like a funnel and told Jake to pour some beer down it. Mike put the tube part in his mouth, and started drinking the beer that Jake was pouring in. “WOO! That stuff’s great!” shouted Mikey. They all took turns drinking from it until they couldn’t take anymore. “Hey, do you guys hear that?” asked Jake. “Yeah, what is that?” Ivin asked. “Sounds like a cheese grater.” Said Mike. “A cheese grater? No way! It sounds like a train, or a plane or something.” Said Ivin. “You guys are morons. It’s a siren or something.” Said Jake, completely positive in his answer. “Wait a minute, a siren.” Ivin asked, “It’s the cops! RUN!” The three boys started running as fast as they could out the back door, when Mikey fell down. Jake and Ivin turned around to help him, because the three of them were best of friends and could never lose one of them. When Mikey looked up to see his two friends running, they were in spotlights. He thought it was a helicopter and had decided to give up. He put his head down to pray when all of a sudden there was complete silence. He looked up suddenly and heard and saw absolutely nothing. He was scared out of his mind. Jake and Ivin had disappeared, the cops had disappeared, and everything was gone. It was as if he had just woken up in the middle of the night, but he didn’t. “Guys!” Mikey screamed, “Where are you. This isn’t funny you assholes!” His screams echoed off into the distance. He wondered where everyone had gone and why he was alone. He was scared. He was very scared, but not for himself. He feared for his friends. He felt it was his duty to go out and find them. He had to find them. “Guys! Dudes this isn’t funny! All right dudes I give up. SERIOUSLY!” Mikey was walking outside now. Everything was still quiet. He happened to look into a person’s windows, and there were televisions on, radios blaring, showers running, and even food cooking, but there were no people anywhere. He had decided that he was probably just on a weird trip from all of the booze when he heard a voice that he had never heard. “Who’s there?” asked Mike. “You know who.” Replied the voice. Mikey tried to turn around so that he could see whose voice it was, but his body was stiff. He couldn’t move at all. All at once, there was an extremely sudden flash of a bright light. Then, he wasn’t in his neighborhood anymore but in a square room with no doors. The only things there were chains, each one connected to a limb and a corner. He was in the middle of the room in the air. He suddenly felt an immense pain and shouted. The pain was relieved instantly then a voice from the floor said sorry. He couldn’t see a body, or any living form anywhere. He could only hear this strange voice. “Where am I? Who are you? Where are my friends?” Demanded Mike. “Your friends are fine. There is no need to worry. Everything will be back to normal again soon.” Said the voice. “Who are you? Let me go! If you don’t let me go…” Mike was suddenly interrupted with a loud booming voice. “SHUT UP!” Mike was perfectly quiet and still. “What’s going on?” He asked quivering. “I told you don’t worry. We just want to show you something.” The voiced boomed. “I’d watch if I could but that loud voice is making me deaf!” Mike screamed. He felt if he screamed he’d regain control. “I’m sorry,” the voice was quiet again, “but please just watch.” The wall in front of him flashed. It looked like a T.V turning on, he thought. That’s what it was. The voice told him to pay close attention. “The year is 2351, and the world is under attack.” Mikey sat watching the huge T.V as it went on with its report. It looked just like the news. Some parts of it made Mike extremely bored, but some parts grabbed him. “Earthlings have lost.” This headline made Mikey scream to the strange voice. “WHAT! What is happening on Earth?” Mikey demanded the truth. The voice replied, “Nothing, nothing is happening on Earth, literally. You were chosen to see this and spread the word.” For some reason, Mike instantly knew what the voice was talking about. “Show me more.” Said Mike calmly. “Finally, you understand.” Said the voice. The T.V went on to show the end of the human race by the human hand. Mikey tried to figure out how to stop it. “I’ve got it!” Mikey exclaimed. BOOM! There was another flash. “Mikey get up!” Ivin yelled. “Yeah dude, we got to get out of here!” Said Jake. Mikey stood up slowly and simply said “Follow me.” Ivin and Jake were mad at Mike because he didn’t start running with them, but they decided he has to know what he’s doing. The three of them walked outside and much to their surprise there were no cops. It was a fireworks show. They all started laughing at themselves for being so immature and jumping to conclusions. Mikey decided that his vision was an omen, so when his friends left, he stole his parents car and raced to the closest television studio. He broke in and wired the cameras so that it would be broadcasted on every channel. “We need to be more active!” Mikey screamed, “We never know what will happen next. Stop smoking, drinking, watching T.V, or anything else. Go out and get an education and get physically fit. Our laziness and closed-mindedness is destroying us.” Before Mike could finish, the police stormed in and arrested him. Jake and Ivin saw his arrest on live T.V and decided that he must have a good point. They motivated as many people as they could to get up and go out. The year is now 2354, three years after the assumed end of the human race. Ivin and I have succeeded and our good friend Mike had finally gotten out of jail. |
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| Added On: Wed Oct 8 2003 | Hits: 1 |
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| Roots |
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| The roots of my past I wish to forget. The bad times we had, and the tears that I shed. The nights I laid awake wishing for a new life. Hoping someday my life would end, dreaming of the things that I never had. The roots of my past I can no longer remember Now I forgot the bad things an I have moved on to live a good life. |
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| Added On: Thu Sep 11 2003 | Hits: 1 |
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| Randy and Sarah |
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| “Over here, quickly.” Randy shouted as he ran across the beach. “Are you sure?” Sarah puffed as she ran. “I’m pretty sure.” He responded. Randy and Sarah ran out of the rain into the cliffs caves. They looked around and Randy happened to notice some dry drift wood at the entrance of the cave. Being the handy wild kid that he was, he grabbed the wood and started a little fire. The little fire lit up the cave. Sarah looked out of the cave and watched the rain fall upon the beach. The tide waters rolled up the sand and back down. From the stand point Sarah could see the whole bay. Shaped like a crescent moon, the bays beach stretched from the cliffs to the rocky point at the end of the cove. The rain pored on steadily and calmly without any lightning or thunder. It all looked so romantic in the eyes of Sarah. Just reaching her 15th birthday she felt a soothing power flow through her. She felt happy and warm like she wanted to be there at that time forever with Randy at her side taking care of her. She wanted to be with him and didn’t know why. The 15 year old boy who had lived by himself for most of his life worked hard at everything he did. After all those years by himself the daily life felt heavy and sad. But when ever he was with Sarah he felt life change. With Sarah around he became happy and care free. Randy, at that moment in time, was watching the shadows dance across the cave walls. The walls were smooth with a rugged look about them. The cave was no bigger than a small room but was warm with an arched roof. At one end of the room there was a tunnel that looked adventurous and filled full of mystery. “Hey Randy,” Sarah, almost thinking out loud, said. You could tell she was full of thought. But as she talked the words just came out, driven by what seemed to be pure emotion. Being a growing woman she was experiencing these new emotions and didn’t know what to do about them. “What is it Sarah?” Randy said responding to her. She was thinking hard trying to think of something to say. After a moment of silence, “Tag, your it!” She laughed as she tapped Randy on the back. Randy jumped up and started chasing Sarah around the fire. They laughed and giggled as they jumped around the cave. Sarah, still running from Randy, decided to run down the tunnel on the other end of the cave. Not really fully noticing it they ran about 20 feet through the dark tunnel. When they reached the end of the tunnel they stopped suddenly. There jaws dropped and there eyes widened as they stared ahead at a room that sparkled with gleaming glory. In the walls were bits and chunks of diamonds, sparkling about and lighting up the room. There were several holes in the ceiling. Each hole had water flowing out of it. From some holes the water ran down the walls, crossing over the diamonds. The holes more towards the center of the room had water dropping like a waterfall into a large stream. The stream traveled in a circle around the center of the cave. A small bridge made out of wood allowed passage over the stream. The two kids were not staring at the holes in the ceiling or the diamonds on the walls but directly in the center of the room. On top of a sand dune, in the middle of the cave, stood two glass figures. The first glass statue was that of a man dressed in a Knights suit, and holding his hand was a long haired woman wearing a flowing dress. Around the necks of the two statues were stones, one red and one blue. The blue stone was around the man’s neck, and the red stone was around the woman’s neck. The rope that went around the neck and held the stones at the top of each one was dark leather. Each stone was shaped in a half heart with jagged edges that obviously fit in to each other. “She’s so pretty.” Sarah said, almost completely entranced. “She looks like your mother.” Randy said in a tone. “Actually she does.” Sarah chuckled as the two kids stepped across the bridge. Randy began to walk in circles around the glass figures and Sarah looked at the facial features of each one. After a couple seconds of checking the statues over, they noticed the two necklaces. The kids stared at the stones and were enchanted by the way they shined. For a short moment Randy and Sarah thought they heard a whisper coming from the stones. It seemed that they had no free will at all as they slowly lifted the necklaces off the statues. Randy taking the blue stone felt almost like he was infatuated by it. Sarah took the red stone off the woman, she immediately felt a sense of ownership to the necklace. They both stared at there stones and from a third persons few they would have looked like idiots just staring at some pretty stones. Without thinking at all they just walked out of the cave. It had stopped raining and the two kids just started playing, as if nothing had happened at all. The rest of the day was spent chasing each other, swimming, and collecting seashells. When it started getting dark Randy and Sarah walked home. Now Sarah lived on a horse training stable kind of like a modern day horse ranch. Her father raised and trained horses for nobles. Her mother grew vegetables and spices that she sold at the trade market in the nearest town. The house they lived in was on the edge of the Giant Grass Fields, next to the forest. It was very far from the nearest town. When Randy and Sarah reached Sarah’s house it was already dark. They had laughed the whole way home. “Sarah, you will come over tomorrow won’t you?” Randy asked “Of course, I had a great time today.” Sarah responded. “You promise?” “I promise. I know lets trade these necklaces, you take the red one I was wearing and I’ll take your blue one.” Sarah proposed. “Well o.k.” Randy answered. “That way I’ll have to come over to give back your necklace.” Randy traded stones with Sarah and then walked home. Randy lived in the forest about half a mile from Sarah’s house. A couple of yards in front of his house was a nice little river that Randy caught Steelhead and other sorts of Trout in. Randy had lived by himself since he was seven. His parents died from a terrible disease that Randy was very lucky not to have caught. Before Randy’s father died he taught him how to fish in the river. Randy’s mother taught him how to hunt for deer and rabbits. He lived in a small cottage like house with three rooms. The roof was made of strong wood. The rest of the house was made of thick stone. Out of the roof stuck two chimneys. From the outside the house looked damp and dingy but on the inside it was warm and cozy. When you walked in, the first room was the living room. It had a big fire place that lit up the room at night. Randy’s parents made a big couch out of the animal skins his mother had hunted down. There was a desk that sat next to the kitchen door. Randy kept his fathers sword hung up over the fireplace. He kept his fathers old fishing nets under the desk. The kitchen was very common, with a fireplace specifically designed for cooking food. Randy kept his cups, dishes, and utensils in cupboards. Randy loved to spice up his food so he had lots of spices stored in the kitchen. He also had mushrooms stored in big baskets on the counters. Randy had a very nice bed room. His bed was a mountain of animal furs and Randy used the top layer of them as a blanket. He kept his mothers bow and arrows near his bed. He had lots of shelves that he kept his rare stones and miniature items. In order to light up his room, Randy used lots of candles. When randy got home he was exhausted, but he had had a wonderful day. He ate some mushrooms and lit a fire in the living room. He then plopped himself on the couch. Randy pulled out the red stone necklace and started looking it over. He moved it around in his hands feeling it over. He noticed the smooth edges on the round side and the raggedy edges on the straight side. Before he knew it, Randy was tired and had to go to bed. While lying in bed he thought about the cave were Sarah and he found the necklaces. He thought to himself “why didn’t I take any of the diamonds on the wall, why did I take the necklace, and why did Sarah also take the other necklace?” With a yawn and a long sigh he fell strait asleep. The next morning Sarah came over. The two kids went fishing up stream from Randy’s house. They had a special place to go fishing, they also swam there. This place was special because it was a pool at the base of a waterfall. The falls were not more than 20 feet high. That whole part of the river was made up of large smooth rocks. This made the water a crystal clear blue color. At that area of the river it was very narrow. Randy used this to his advantage by stretching his fishing nets across the river from one side to the other. Randy and Sarah swam up stream, under the water falls, hoping to scare the fish into the nets. After swimming around for about an hour they lied out in the sun and told silly jokes to each other. They didn’t spend that long lying there because all of a sudden it began to rain. The clouds had rolled in out of no where. The kids got up, grabbed the fishing nets and started running to Randy’s house. Randy’s house was a lot closer than Sarah’s. They ran inside the little hut. “Not again! It’s just like yesterday.” Randy said, seeming quite mad indeed. “Only this might be a little worse than yesterday.” Sarah said. “I don’t have much food to eat, but I can start a fire.” Randy said. “Oh, that’s fine by me. I just hope this weather dies down before sunset. If it doesn’t I might have to stay over night.” Sarah exclaimed. Sarah had spent the night many times before. Her parents didn’t mind at all. They knew if it was too bad for the kids to travel back to her house then they would be safe at Randy’s. At this moment the wind was picking up and it was pretty bad out side. For a short while it began to hail but that didn’t last long. The next morning Sarah woke up to an empty house. She wondered were Randy was. She decided to pick flowers while she waited for him. Sarah went along side the house and picked Wild Purple Gladiolas, which she had planted last spring. It was stile very early in the morning. And Sarah was still a little tiered so when she saw her necklace glowing she really didn’t pay it any thought. Then it hit her, she quickly toke the necklace off and threw it on the ground. After a few seconds it stopped glowing. She brought it in side with the flowers. Sarah put the flowers in an old vase. She then put her necklace on the table and watched it. After a couple minutes of nothing she decided it must have been her imagination. Sarah started picking up the house and making it look nice. “Sarah!” Randy shouted from outside. “I need some help.” Sarah ran out the door and was delightfully surprised to see Randy had hunted down and killed a wild boar. “O my goodness, it’s really big.” She helped him drag the animal up to the house. Even with Sarah helping the boar was still hard to move. It probably weighed 100 lbs, if not more. After the kids placed dead boar were they wanted it, they quickly got all the supplies needed to clean it. Sarah grabbed the water and liquids that they would use to preserve the hide of the boar. Randy got all the big bowls in his house and the knifes he would use to cut the meat up. The kids looked so organized. It was amazing how quickly and easily they had skinned and cleaned the animal. It was obvious they had done this before. Only a few minutes had passed by before they were sitting on the couch in the living room. Randy rolled up his pants to reveal a very nasty bruise on his right leg. “Where did you get that?” Sarah asked. Apparently Randy was slammed up against a tree by the boar. It hurt but Randy could still walk fine. As it came closer to noon Randy brought Sarah home along with 40 lbs. of fresh meat. Sarah’s parents were so grateful to Randy for the meat. “How would you like to go with us to the market tomorrow?” Sarah’s mom asked Randy. They agreed and decided that Randy would be there early in the morning. When Randy got home he put together some things he would bring with him to the market. He gathered a few furs and special items he could trade. He thought about bringing some boar meat but decided he could get a better use out of it. After he put everything he wanted to take with him into a big shoulder bag he went to sleep. Sarah’s Dad had rigged up three horses for the trip. Sarah and Randy rode on the same horse. It took them awhile to get to town but well worth it. It was a place Randy had only gone to a couple of times in his life. The market was amazing. There were so many people, with all kinds of things to buy and to sell. They had everything from food and spices to armor and weapons. These people were from all over the world with different religions and customs. This was because the town was real close to a port city on the coast and it was on the route to the capital city of the country. Sarah’s parents let the two kids wonder off by themselves with there trading goods and money. Randy bought some spices right away. He loved the felling of the crowd, mostly because it was something he rarely got to experience. Although he wasn’t good at haggling he enjoyed doing it. Sarah took her time when deciding what to buy. First she asked her self whether it was affordable or not. Then she asked if she really wanted it. So she never got a whole lot of stuff when she was in town. While walking around the kids spotted a story teller, not to be mistaken for a bard. He looked only three or four more years older than Randy. He was dressed in a gray cloak with a blue sash. There were about 30 kids gathered around him listening to his story. Randy and Sarah decided to sit down and listen to him. “…and then the true King will reclaim his throne and the stars will move to form the first letter of his first name. The King will then kill the evil man who tried to steal the stone from the lovers. Then the lovers will unlock the secret of the stone and receive a treasure straight from God himself. The king will return to his lovely wife and they will live happily ever after.” Randy and Sarah only got to hear the end of the story, but they sat down and rested anyways. All the other kids that were listening to the story got up and scattered themselves into the crowd. Sarah watched some little kids run to there mommy and help carry some food they bought. Randy dug through his pack filled with the stuff he had bought. While they were sitting there the story teller came up to them. “I’m sorry you missed the story.” “O, I’m sure it was lovely.” Sarah responded. “Well to make up for your loss, I’m going to give you two something.” He reached in to a bag he had mounted on his horse, which he walking by his side. The Man pulled out of the bag a really big book. “This book has several good stories. It also has the story I just told. Please enjoy it.” The storyteller then walked away. As the man was walking away Randy jumped up and shouted, “Thank You!” “No, Thank you, for everything you’ve done!” the man yelled back. “Well that was odd.” Sarah said to Randy. “Come on lets go find your parents.” Randy suggested. The rest of the month was real normal. The two kids went swimming, fishing, and every other day they would sit down and read out of the book they received. They would each read a page in turn to the other. They loved it. They would read next to the waterfall and out in the plains next to Sarah’s house. On rainy days they would read inside the houses. Randy wasn’t very good at reading and it took him awhile to complete a page. Sarah on the other hand could read very well. She helped Randy when he needed it. All this reading gave them even more bonding time than before. Part of the reason they hung out so often was because they were the only two kids in ten square miles. Sarah’s parents enjoyed watching the kids play together. It insured that Sarah had company. Although the kids didn’t think about it, Sarah’s parent thought about how they would grow up and marry each other. It was pretty obvious, besides whom else would she marry. Of course Randy didn’t fully understand what a marriage was at that point in time. The days soon became shorter. It was getting colder at night. The snow had not come yet, but the leaves were beginning to turn orange and brown. The kids spent less time out by the river and more time inside there houses. It began to rain a lot, especially because the ocean was so close. Do to the geography of the land the sea breeze blew heavily at Sarah’s house. One very cold night, when it was pouring down rain, Randy was awoken suddenly. Randy’s necklace was glowing bright and shaking quite forcibly in one direction. |
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| Added On: Tue Mar 30 2004 | Hits: 1 |
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| Man |
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| About 15 years ago I was in my early twenties and I had just moved into my own place. All throughout my childhood my family had never had any pets due to my brother's extreme allergy to them, and I had always wanted a dog. Thus one of the first things I did was to get one. I don’t go in for no fancy shit, so I went down to the local pound and asked to have a look around. A frumpy but clearly lovely old hag took me on a little tour of the cages and just told me to tell her which dog I liked and I could have it, free! I couldn’t believe it – so many dogs of such dramatically different shapes, colours and sizes, and all I had to do was pick the one I liked best and it was mine! I spent a good hour sizing them up. Some were too small, some too big, some too scary, some too smelly, some a bit weird looking and some, well, just too damn ugly. But there was such a cornucopia on offer I just knew there had to be one of the little tykes that was perfect for me. And boy, was I right. I first caught a glimpse of his perfectly formed little head about four cages before I got to him. I was sticking my fingers through the bars of a cage that housed a great big Irish Wolfhound type thing. There was no way I was interested in it, but I couldn’t resist sticking my fingers into its mouth a bit. Just for the rush that he might bite them off. You know what I’m talking about – like when you throw your house keys in the air over a drain. Anyway, as soon as I saw the occupant of pen 27 I pulled them out of there like his mouth was on fire and dashed over to examine what I felt was sure to be “the one”. I asked the hag to let me into the cage and once in I knelt down to say hello to my little fella. He was a little nervous at first, but as soon as I’d stroked him, let him lick my hand and playfully roughed him up he was all over me. Clearly this little pooch had a lot of love to give, and he liked me. The feeling was mutual – he was one of the best looking animals I’ve ever seen, to be honest. To this day I don’t know what he was. There was definitely some dachsund in him – you could tell from the finely wrought little head, plus he had slightly little legs. But as for the rest, I don’t know. He was a rich, dark brown colour with a smallish, lean but muscular body, and was one and a half years old when I got him. Apparently he had just come in about an hour before. I was sure that the first person to see him would have taken him, and I thanked the vague alien higher power that I entertain the idea of that I had been lucky enough to be that person. The hag had told me that it was OK to give him his own name as he hadn’t been called by anything in particular by whoever had him before (a crazy old farmer I believe), and I decided to call him Tucker, a name which had somehow popped into my head the moment I saw him. It seemed to sum him up – cute but tough, loyal but cheeky. A lovable scamp, basically. I went out and bought a load of books on how to look after dogs, and then went and bought all the necessary gear. My house was suddenly full with baskets, leads, biscuits, toys and the like. From day one we got on great. At the time I was working from home and so was able to play around with him as much as he wanted, and that was a lot! That little thing was so full of energy there was no stopping him. I would be sitting at my desk with a book in one hand and a rubber thing in the other, with him on the end of it going “grrrr-grrr” endlessly. Or I would tease him with it until he could stand it no more and he would jump up on the chair and attack me, frequently causing me to fall on the floor, whereupon he would try to lick my face and I’d try to fight him off, laughing. Life was great – for both of us. One of the books I had bought had a section on training, and we set to work. Within a couple of days I had taught him how to sit, stay, heel, all that stuff. Because of the bond between us it all came so easily. We soon moved onto advanced stuff like fetching, playing dead etc. I had never in my life owned a pair of slippers but I went out and bought some just so he could fetch them for me. I simply cannot find the words to describe the joy that it brought me to have him carry out this little act for me. He used to sleep on the floor in my bedroom and keep an eye out for when I was getting up. As soon as he saw me stirring he would pad off to wherever I had left my slippers, and come skipping back into the room and place them on the floor by the bed, the right way round and everything. Each day this genuinely moved me, and I would show my appreciation by squeezing his head and then roughing him up a bit, which he loved. To me there was nothing more beautiful than this simple interaction between man and beast. I loved him and he loved me. Simple as that. Well, this is the point in the story when things begin to go wrong. In the words of Axl Rose, “Nothing lasts forever”, and this story unfortunately doesn’t disprove that theory. I just thank the aliens that his illness was a long and drawn out one. “Callous words!” I hear you cry, but hang on a second. Tucker’s illness was mental, not physical, and he was happy as a pig in shit right up until the last. It was just the rest of us that suffered, as you will see. It was two years after I got him that things started to go wrong, and then, one crazy year later, he would be dead. Despite it all I am still thankful for that year. The first sign that there was anything wrong occurred whilst out for a walk one day. We had this little route that took us through the park so that I could try to chat up women, using Tucker as bait of course, and then past a nice pub where I would stop for a refresher and Tucker would get some water and a few cheeky pork scratchings (pork rinds to my US chums). I was sitting on a bench in the park just generally meditating on life and being happy, and Tucker was doing his thing in the park, which consisted of running around like mental for half an hour and then coming and hanging with me for five minutes before heading off. I suddenly realised that I had been sat there for 45 minutes and Tucker was nowhere to be seen. I had a casual stroll around the park and couldn’t see him anywhere. Fear began to creep in. I was just thinking “Please, don’t let someone have taken him, please”. It would have been too much to bear. I had been calling his name, but I now began shouting it at the top of my lungs. Some old geezer came up to me and asked what the dog I was calling looked like. I described him and the old fella said “You’d better come and take a look at this”. The look on his face told me that nothing awful had happened - unless he was the sort of person who would wear a quizzical, amused face when informing someone that they should come and take a look at their animal’s mangled body. I decided that if he was, and something terrible had happened, then it was safe to remain level-headed now, as any sudden emotional shock that I wouldn’t be prepared for if I gave this fucker the benefit of the doubt could be alleviated by smashing his fucking skull in. But it was OK. As he led me round the back of a building by the edge of the park I could hear Tucker’s growl. He was crouched in front of a tree, emitting a low, quiet growl. He would reach the end of his breath, breathe in, and repeat, seemingly endlessly. I approached him from the side and tried to get his attention, but he wasn’t having any of it. He seemed to be oblivious to everything but whatever it was that was freaking him out. The old guy and me were examining the tree for squirrels or some shit like that when Tucker suddenly stopped growling, stood up did a 360 degree turn, and resumed the growling action. “Okaaaaay…” I thought. The old guy and I just stood and chatted about stuff while he carried on doing this. After four turns he growled for a little bit longer, then stood up and came to see me as if nothing had happened. I thanked the old dude and Tucker and I headed off to the pub. It was while I was sitting and enjoying an ale that Tucker exhibited the next sign of his impending madness. I was going through the normal drill of chewing the fat with the locals, and then quite literally chewing the fat by eating a big bag of pork scratchings, occasionally slipping one to my faithful friend as he chilled by my feet. I didn’t notice anything was wrong until I was about to leave. I was plugging my headphones into my cd player and putting my gloves on when I noticed that there were some pork scratchings on the floor under the table. “Strange of Tucker not to eat every single fucking thing I give to the greedy bastard”, I thought, and then I realised that they had been arranged into a pattern. With some accuracy, Tucker had arranged four pork scratchings into a square! I was somewhat amazed and intrigued by this, but after a while I pretty much forgot about it, as you do. It was a few weeks before the next incident. I returned from my net-weaving class as usual, to find Tucker excited about something. I’d taught him this trick where he would go to the bathroom and get me some toilet roll when I needed it. It turned out to be quite useful at times. He went to the bathroom and returned with a strip of 4 sheets of paper, dropped it at my feet and continued barking like mad. “What the fuck is he on?”, I was thinking, then suddenly I realised. Four sheets of paper, four corners to a square, four turns in the park. It had something to do with the number four! Sensing that I was beginning to understand, Tucker calmed down a bit. I raised a hand in front of me and held up one finger, then two, then three, then.. he starts going mental again at four. I cracked open a can and sat down to ponder this. After much deliberation, I decided that perhaps it was something to do with the number of legs he has. But why would he be freaking about this? I guessed that maybe the fact that I walked on two legs and he on four was disconcerting him. Perhaps, because of our close relationship, he thought that we were equals and that we should be doing everything the same, and this discrepancy was bugging him. I didn’t point out to him that he didn’t drink beer from cans or play the guitar either, but you know – he was just a dog. Over the next few weeks his behaviour became more and more, well, annoying I guess, though it hurts me to say that. He was very difficult, constantly hassling me and doing all sorts of weird things. I decided to test out my little theory and one morning, upon rising, I casually headed to the bathroom on all fours and continued to move around in this way all day. It was a resounding success – he instantly returned to his normal self and it was just like the old days. We horsed around, played with rubber toys, all that shit. I was really pleased, but obviously this presented a problem. As soon as I resumed my standing position he reverted back to his previous behaviour. “Well, I’ll just have to put up with him going apeshit the whole time”, I thought. “There’s no way I’m going to live my life on all fours”. At least that’s what I thought at the time, but after a while I began to do spells on all fours, just to get a break from the madness. Gradually however, I was spending more and more time this way, and though it shames me to admit it, I was soon living like this 24/7. The keener readers out there may have already spotted a potential problem – dogs need to be taken for walks. Unfortunately, Tucker’s bad behaviour didn’t stop when we left the house if anything it got worse. I would take him out for short walks but it was a complete nightmare, and I soon resorted to taking him out late at night with, you guessed it, me scampering along on my hands and knees (or hands and feet for extra speed or when negotiating rough terrain). I was getting quite good at it by then and could build up quite a bit of speed if I tried, except occasionally I would trip and smash my face in. I was worried about people seeing, but the few we did come across gave us a pretty wide berth, unsurprisingly. And so this continued for a while. It’s funny how quickly we get used to stuff. When I had to pop out without Tucker to see some friends or to the shops or something, it took me a few moments to adjust to walking upright again, and sometimes I would inadvertently go into the crawling position at the most embarassing moments. One time I was sitting on the underground, and when it got to my station I bounded off the train, and was on the escalator before I realised what the hell I was doing. Luckily, in a big city like London there are so many nutters that it’s quite easy to get away with something weird like that, though it did raise a few eyebrows. Another time I was at a party with all my old university friends and was sitting cross-legged on the floor. The doorbell went and I raced to answer it all fours. That was without a doubt the most embarrassing moment of my life up to that point. I'll never forget the stunned silence and the looks. And so the situation continued in this fashion. I had compromised my behaviour to modulate Tucker’s, and things were fine, I suppose. As I say, it’s amazing what humans can get used to, and after about three months of spending most of my time on all fours I was completely used to it. I would shower this way, cook food, do housework (for which it helped a bit, to be honest), watch TV – everything. One fine spring day, however, the equilibrium began to fall apart. I had cooked myself a meal of spaghetti bolognese, dished up a can of Pal for Tucker, and we took our places to eat. His bowl was in the front room, and I usually ate on the sofa with the plate on my lap. He was normally fine with this, but on this day he started doing all his usual old crazy stuff, trying to stop me from eating. I tried moving down to the floor and eating but this still wasn’t enough. After a bit of experimentation I discovered that the only thing that would appease him is if I would discard the cutlery, crouch in front of the plate and eat without my hands. I liked the way he chose the day that I make spag bol to do this – meatballs might have been a bit easier. Thanks for that, Tucker. I got my face stuck in there, and to my surprise I actually quite enjoyed it. It was kind of liberating in a way. You know how sometimes it’s nice to take the day off work, walk around the house in your underwear drinking whiskey, eating chicken legs, grunting at fit women on TV and generally acting like a neanderthal? It was nice to take a break from civilized behaviour and get back to basics. You can imagine the state of my face, and the floor, afterwards. I learned a lesson from this, and from then on I ate food which was easy to pick up with my mouth. Fish fingers, sausages, chips, onion bhajis, olives etc. I didn’t try going back to eating on my lap. I recognised that obstinate look on my nutty dog’s face. I wish that things had stabilised there, but unfortunately they didn’t. Any discrepancy between my lifestyle and Tucker’s seemed to eventually set him off. He would become impossible, and I would adapt just to shut him the fuck up. One Sunday morning whilst getting ready for hot air ballooning class, I was lapping some coffee out of a bowl, making a cursory attempt at licking my entire body clean (I was now taking proper showers at a friend’s house), and Tucker was giving me grief about getting his slippers for him (this had taken some figuring out, but I had deduced that he wanted me to fetch slippers for him and so bought him two pairs of baby’s slippers, which I would put on him and he would wear!), and I had a sudden urge to end it all – to have him put down and stop this fiasco once and for all. But I knew that I couldn’t do it. I loved him so much, and it wasn’t his fault he was so bonkers. I left the house (the porch had now become my dressing room – he wouldn’t allow me to wear anything), got in my car and just cried. At least I knew it couldn’t get any worse. Every possible aspect of my life with Tucker had been adjusted to fit in with his. There was nothing else I could think of that I would be required to do. And I could just about cope with things as they were. The licking, the sniffing, the scratching – it was all worth it just to be in the company of this wonderful animal. I mean, that’s life right? Accepting the way things are, realising what you have, and trying to enjoy it the best you can. And so things continued for six months or so. Looking back on it now it seems absolutely insane, but at the time it seemed fine, comfortable, normal even. We played, we ate, we ran. We slept, we fought. We were both happy. The only thing that was making it slightly difficult was that I still had to work, so I would pretend to sleep, wait until Tucker had dozed off, and then pull my laptop up in front of my basket and tap away. Sometimes Tucker would wake and begin to freak out, but I could usually convince him that I was playing with the thing by grabbing the edge of the screen in my teeth and growling. Of course, he would grab the other side and join in. The people down at Dell were beginning to get pretty pissed off with me, but I had taken out one of those really expensive protection policies so each time they reluctantly repaired it. Actually, the screen was only damaged twice. After that I would just stand up and put it on the table, much to Tucker’s angst. An act like this could take weeks for Tucker to completely get over though, so I tried pretty hard to keep him sweet. I was resigned to living like this for the rest of Tucker’s natural life, but fate was to pull a string that would turn both of our worlds upside down. It was late summer and we had had a wonderful day. Tucker had been lazing in the sun while I had been inside pretending to sleep but actually getting a big chunk of work done. I felt very pleased with myself and prepared both of us a lovely meal, poured myself a bowl of lager, and went to join Tucker in the sun. My garden was very secluded. I had quite a large, detached house, and I had put up very high fences and hedges so that no-one could see in. And so both of us stretched out in the sun, me with my avocados, olives, houmous and chopped up pitta bread, and Tucker with his big bowl of Pal and side dish of Bonios. The dappled sunlight dancing on Tucker’s glossy coat, and my bare ass. We fell asleep and awoke just before dusk, the conditions still pleasantly warm. We chilled for a bit, doing a little bit of grooming, and I was just thinking about heading back inside when Tucker suddenly shot up and darted across the lawn. I saw something moving right up the end of the garden and spotted a smallish black cat. Tucker was onto him like a rash and they began tearing round the garden. The cat had come into the garden by the house, but now that he was down the end, couldn’t get up over the fence. Tucker was doing a good job keeping him trapped, and I watched in amusement as he tormented the thing. Eventually the cat made a break for it and headed up towards the house. He was heading straight for me, and Tucker stopped chasing him and looked at me as if to say “Go on then, stop him”. I hesitated for a moment, thinking that I have to draw the line somewhere, but my sense of adventure got the better of me and I bounded over to a blocking position and began barking (which I was getting pretty good at by now). I scared him back down into Tucker’s zone and the two of us chased him, trapped him, let him escape and then did it all over again. I have to admit that it was a lot of fun, but after half an hour or so it suddenly went wrong. A booming female voice suddenly cried out “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”. It was my neighbour, a sour old bitch if ever there was one. She had climbed up onto an external wall to look in, apparently alerted by all the barking and screeching. The cat had been making quite a bit of noise as well as us, and it transpired that it belonged to her friend. Thinking quickly, I adopted an aggressive tone: “How about a bit of freaking help here? This animal has trespassed on my property, made my dog crazy, and I’m trying to save it’s bloody life?”. She was taken aback, but she wasn’t buying it. “Mr Trevelyan, can you explain why you are naked, and why you were barking like a dog?”. I explained that I was barking to try and scare the cat into a place where I could trap it, and nonchalantly I told her that the whole fiasco had kicked off while I was in the shower, and wasn’t the whole thing terribly amusing? She countered with “Why didn’t you take your dog inside rather than attempt to catch the cat?”. She had me here, and my mind raced to come up with an answer as I stood there, my sac gently contracting in the cooling air. I rolled my eyes, trying to look like I wish I’d thought of that. “I wish I’d thought of that” I gushed, attempting to charm her. She looked unimpressed. At that point the cat slipped past Tucker and made it out of the garden. He immediately rushed over to me to complain about my standing up, and so I began to head inside with him, all the time apologizing to my bitch neighbour and trying to laugh the incident off. I had a bowl of whisky to calm myself down, and reflecting on the incident, I thought that maybe she would just think I was a bit of a nutcase and forget the whole thing. This is England, after all. But it wasn’t to be so. Mid-morning the next day the doorbell rang. I shut Tucker in the kitchen, put my dressing gown on and went to answer it, preparing myself to deal with her. As I approached to door though, I could see a white shape on the drive, and there were two figures dressed in black, with black hats on. “Don’t tell me she’s called the fucking rozzers!” I thought, but just then I heard the tell-tale crackle of a radio. I edged back into the kitchen but they had seen me through the glass. They called out for me to answer the door, but there was way too much evidence of my unusual lifestyle scattered about the house for me to consider letting them if. I was pretty sure I hadn’t broken any laws but there was no way I could face the embarrassment. I would rather be done for refusing to co-operate or some such shit. I went into the kitchen, hitting all fours to shut Tucker up and cowered in the corner trying to come up with a plan. I was pretty sure the cops wouldn’t break in, but if they did I wanted to be out of there. I decided to try to make it to my local pub and sit it out there. I put some clothes on and sneaked out the back door, intending to leave Tucker in the kitchen, but the fucker slipped past me into the back garden and looked like he was about to freak out, so I had no choice but to hit the ground and run after him. Luckily he headed for the back gate, and we went through it and out into the little lane at the back of my house. Thankfully it was deserted so we both ran down it towards a shortcut to the pub across some fields. I adopted the hands and feet position to give me extra speed so that I could overtake Tucker and lead the way. We were approaching the pub and I was beginning to feel relief washing over me when I heard a voice call my name. It was one of the fucking cops, and she was climbing over the stile at the beginning of the field. That meant we couldn’t go into the pub as she would have seen us, so I led us onto the road that leads to the high street, not really sure of what to do when we got there. The high street was packed, and this immediately caused problems. Tucker hadn’t been out in the daytime for so long that the number of people seemed to mess with his head a bit. I obviously had to resume my erect position, and this didn’t help, but he was even worse than usual. Instead of just barking he bolted across the street, weaving in between people and traffic and making a lot of noise. I followed but he was too quick. I could just about keep up but was making no ground on him. He reached a bigger road that had quite a lot of traffic and not so many people and began to slow his pace, evidently less troubled because of the drop in people. He eventually stopped right in the middle of a main road and turned to face me. The next ten seconds seemed to elapse very slowly. Tucker was in the path of a double-decker bus which was just pulling away from a stop. I could see that the driver had his head turned towards a passenger, collecting a fare. I guess he was using his peripheral vision to watch the road and a little dog was too small to register. Tucker just looked at me, doing his usual freak out that I was standing up. “Move, boy!” I willed him, but he wouldn’t. I needed him to run towards me, but how? I dropped to all fours, hoping that this would work but no. Desperately, I stripped off in a matter of seconds and began bounding towards him. Still nothing. I inhaled a huge breath, ready to launch into a series of barks in a last ditch attempt to get him to come towards me. But it was too late. The wheel of the bus slowly rolled over him, crushing him more completely than I would have thought possible. I saw the bones crunch, the blood spurt and the organs pop, and as his perfectly formed little head went under my vocal cords began to form the bark that I had been hoping would have saved his life. But the sound never made it as far as a bark. I pointed my face up to the sky, gave in to the whirlwind of emotions that was ripping through my entire body, and let out a mighty howl of pure sadness. I walked slowly back through the town wearing nothing but two steady streams of tears. I suspect I may have raised a few eyebrows but I didn’t care – I was lost in a world of sadness. I got back home and collapsed on the floor, where I remained for God knows how long. A day or two I guess. Very slowly I managed to pull myself back together. I escaped any charges – it turns out the police were just making some routine enquiries about something else! I look back on everything with a heavy heart, but ultimately a joyous heart. That little animal enriched my life in more ways than I could ever describe, and I thank the aliens for that. I felt guilty about enjoying the return to normal life at first, but I suspect it’s what Tucker would have wanted (either that or he’d be spinning in his grave, the fucker!). But every year, on the day that I picked Tucker up from the pound, I get out my basket, bowls and toys, strip off and spend the day doing whatever the fuck I want. Sometimes I have a bowl of gin and go out looking for Mrs Coopers’ friend’s cat. Rest in peace, Tucker. |
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| Added On: Fri Oct 17 2003 | Hits: 1 |
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| LIVING ON THE EDGE |
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| LIVING ON THE EDGE by Ovidiu Bufnila General Baskaev argued with the august authority of Burbansk and the knights from Guaribo sent a letter to sergeant Slatt informing him on the tragic events that would occur. The pneumatic people from Ghile Ga found out that Petra Petronius had discovered an odd cell having a huge virtual pair. They said it was the very essence of the bizarre town, Manhada. Bobolina from Tamboree had promised to the electricians from Susa Mabusa that she would find out the whole truth, but the lieutenants of Emperor Ogawa have always thrown sand in the wheels. The werewolf from the arsenal in Galeea told everyone that he had a nightmare and that the magicians of mystery might just wrap a dog-eat-dog universe in a starry mantle. The werewolf dreamed himself on Haman mountain and for the first time in his life, he swore he had seen, a diamond of old light with which we could illuminate the truth swallowed by Manhada. The gravediggers from Kauna Kunao searched for the werewolf wishing to rape him as they were going to attack Tulule and to become immortal. The totalitarian people from Cretona planned an ambush in which they wanted to attract the totalitarian people from Galeea and the order forces from Betola tried to scatter the ten thousand scavengers who were going to stab the national governess to death and to arrest Emperor Ogawa’s officers. The great shield form Qiatotocoatl became a dispute subject between the ambassadors of the oriental elections and those of occidental elections, and we, the magicians of the past, were nestling within an imperial albatross, getting prepared for reinterpreting the imperfection. Flying above the Haman mountain, we saw Miss Margareta from the small town of Beauburg bill and coo with Pitoskin. They were frisking into a hayrick. It didn’t even cross their minds that soon we would make the dog-eat-dog universe secret. In the distance, beyond Azego Bazego, one could admire the dance of clouds from Marsila Molé and the seagoing forces of Vice-president Weinberger produced the first virtual whirls. The sky turned red and one could hear the roar of cannons from Kumbra Kumbrali. The peace of one thousand years is totally out of question! Biting Miss Margareta’s little ear, Pitoskin told her about Davi curls, about the universal orgasm and about the diamonds of old light in which the terrible truth about Manhada might be. Miss Margareta passed her finger between her lips and whispered to Pitoskin that the ignorance and the foolishness of the national governess from Bulbona would lead secret agents to destruction and that the wonderful art of spying was coming to an end. Pitoskin tried to calm her down, but then he saw us floating through the air. He ran after the imperial albatross in order to bring it down with rocks. He let it go, as beyond the rocks on the shore, he saw the yellow submarine of Abu Kadar sailing lazily. Near the cannons from the prow, vice-president Weinberger was chatting with Obin Oba. They were laughing heartily. They were smoking cigar. They were tapping friendly on each other’s shoulder and, now and then, they were hugging. They planned the future of the peoples from Guaribo, Kodaon and Tonga Tongao, the rape of Agomanian Agomanianos who was fighting against the Devil, they were planning the ecstasy of crowds from Takule Makune, the morning of generals from Quanqo Koqué, the tide of roses in Adamville, and the theft of secrets in San Gastoban. Colonel Sharun would have given anything to find out about the whole secret. Watching himself in a mirror brought by a pilgrim from Burbansk, the colonel screw up his lips and he promised that one day he would rule the world. Pitoskin pulled out his spyglass and followed carefully the lips movements of the two, hoping that he would get an extra star. A sailor climbed into the nacelle wanting to shoot the albatross for Abu Kadar’s lunch. The sailor was a fat and toothless person. He had lots of scars on the cheek. He had fought in Nulome, in Popocatepetlàn and in Guabano Lao. He was Abu Kadar’s lover and he had been bought for two bushels of gold from Metongo Bambo. Abu Kadar was very fond of him and he had killed many whale hunters and imperial soldiers who had dared to take a glimpse at his lover. Vice-president Weinberger hit the hand of the sailor. The hot bullet whistled threateningly and it dived into the waves foam. Abu Kadar came in a hurry. He was all sweat. He had his coat unbuttoned and his huge moustaches got tousled. His boots smelled like tar. The buckle of his belt got rusty because of the salted air, and his baldhead was full of brownish spots. The rifle offered by the artillerymen from Beauburg had been swollen with heavy bullets ready to kill any colt that would have dared to face Kadar. The dagger stolen from Galeea was ready to stab meanly, and the lasso given by the governor from Togai laughed mockingly waiting to hang everyone around it lovingly. The vice-president confessed that during his childhood an imperial albatross appeared in his dreams and told him about the diamonds of old light, about the dog-eat-dog universe and about the women from Manhada. At first sight, everything seemed to be a superb illusion, but Weinberger was convinced that it was the very same albatross. Obin Oba had a mantle sewn with golden thread his eyes were as dark as pitch. One could hear the gallop of wild horses in his breath. One could read out the hundreds of bloody battles on his tattoos, and the blood of the pneumatic people killed by the cavalry charge at Quiatotocoatl hasn’t dried yet on his boots. Obin Oba nodded approval. The spring was coming to an end and they said that tragic events that were to change the course of all worlds and of the dog-eat-dog universe might occur. Abu Kadar pulled out his sword and cut off the head of his lover. |
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| Added On: Wed Nov 5 2003 | Hits: 1 |
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