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Pitch

August 31, 2010 in P

By David Stewart


Gentlemen I believe my script is both commercial and artistically credible. If you agree to make this movie you will be rewarded at the box office and at the awards ceremonies. At its heart it’s a love story but it’s also a coming of age tale. It’s about a young girl who is torn between the boy she grew up with and a beguiling stranger who comes into her life. The twist is that she knows the boy she grew up with is a wild child with a criminal past and the stranger is down to earth with a good job, so he actually represents stability and the guy she’s known all her life is the risk. And while this is going on she starts to see elements of both of them in her own father which makes her realise there is a lot more of her in her mother than she first thought. Throughout the course of the film she realises who she is and what links her to where she’s from…. the um… the script has real… real passion and the characters are three dimensional and while it’s demanding it’s also rewarding and not too demanding… and… and I can sense you’re not… I sense from your silence you’re… did I mention she was a stripper! Yes the girl is a stripper so there are scenes that play out in the strip club and her friends are also strippers. So is her mum! Although we only find out that in flashbacks where she’d be played by a much younger actress. And the guy she grew up with is a vampire! And the new man she meets is a zombie so she’s forced to choose between a zombie and a – and they have armies with them! An army of zombies and an army of vampires which go to war and she’s caught in a middle… with her stripper friends. It’s a zombie/vampire comedy film with strippers and a coming of age story. You will? That’s fantastic! That’s great. Oh that’s brilliant. Just give me a few weeks to um…tweak the script a bit and I’ll have it on your desk ready to talk budgets. Brilliant… mum will be thrilled.

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Pronunciation

August 30, 2010 in P

By David Stewart


Ah. Sorry. Yes there’s been a bit of a mix up I’m afraid. When you said does anyone have a pilots licence I thought you said “A Pilates licence” and I’m a qualified pilates instructor so naturally I put my hand up. Pilates. It’s a kind of exercise. It’s great you should try it. Really? P-lart-ees? Is that right? I never knew that before, what a dill I’ve been pronouncing it wrong all year. Well you can see how I got confused because Pilots and Pilate’s do sound very similar when you use my pronunciation. Well anyway I’m here now and I’ve got excellent core muscle strength and abdominal tone so… goodness there are a lot of dials and switches and things. And you say both pilots are dead? Well they should have exercised more I think. If only you’d called me before they died rather than after I could be a lot more help. Nevermind, I’m here now. So it’s me and this gentlemen here. Sorry I didn’t catch your name? Blackbeard? Really. That’s a lovely name. And does your parrot have a name too? Lovely. And are you a pilot? Oh that makes sense, what with the eyepatch and the wooden leg and the hook. Goodness another mix up. Well that makes me feel better because I don’t think my hearing was at fault I think the stewardesses pronunciation of “Pilot” clearly left a lot to be desired. Speaking of stewardesses could we perhaps get some more peanuts? Oh well it’s just the two of us with a plane to land so -  What? No I’m sorry but I’m going to insist he wait his turn. I don’t care if he is a qualified pilot he didn’t respond when you asked the first time and Blackbeard and I did so I think politeness would dictate that he wait his turn. Well his being in the toilet is no concern of mine I responded to a call so it’s rude of you not to at least give me a try. I’ll attempt to land the plane and if you’re not satisfied with my attempt he can have a go. That seems only fair. Right then – I think I’ll just start flicking switches in order and take note of what happens as I go. How hard can it be?

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Animation

August 27, 2010 in A

By Dave Bloustien


<click>

“finished admini — <khh> — the a — <KKHZZZZ> – ore temperature is risinggggg — <crackle> — stable and norma — <10101011101010> — Mr. Di — <khhhh> — Hello? Can you hear me?

“You’re probably a bit disoriente — crackle> — normal as far as we can tell — <miniminiminiminiminkey> — In accordance with your final wishes, we placed your head … I said, we placed your HEAD in a STATE of cryo — khhhh> — ension.

“Can he hear me? I don’t think …

Anyway, Mr. Dis — <khhh> — the time designated in your will has arrived and so, here we ahhhhhhhhh — crackle> — Welcome to the future, Walter.

“How is the readout on his brain activity. Oh, dear.

“Mr. Di — <gstringmouseoilbanananxiety> — , I don’t know if you can hear me, but we’re getting a poor response — <shkksdnkslkdfg> — your MRI. I suspect it has something to do with the crude technology of your, uh, timecycle. If you think of a brain as an organic crystal dri — khhh>, did they have those in the mid 20th century? A hard drive, maybe? Well your file is corrupted, Walllllterrrrrrrrr.

“This is no good, we’re just going to have to turn him off. Absolutely no response. What a waste. Another one for the bin — remembrandtcloisterfarwitchwitchwitch> — ankyou Nurse Krrikichik. He wrote the Three Musketeers, you know.”

<Wai *** … I’m still heeeeeeerrrreeeeerrrrrreeeeerrrrr *** —>

<click>

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Boss

August 26, 2010 in B

By Jason Geary


I approach the red curtain and nod to the cigarette girl next to it. She smiles a radiant smile and I peel a ten off my billfold a seamlessly slip it into her corset. She reaches across and pulls the curtain to the side. The horn section blurts at full volume as Sinatra reaches for a high note. He gets it. Pitch perfect. Beautiful.

I stand at the top of the stairs and wait for heads to turn. Sure enough, they do. A nervous mummer sweeps the room adding to the walking bass notes from the stage. I wait for a waitress to clear off the stairs and then descend straight down the centre, pulling my shirt cuffs from my jacket sleeves as I do.

I’m met at the bottom of the stairs by Rico Dolchetto, he’s all smiles. “Hey Boss, your usual?”

“Yeah Rico, make it a double.”

“Sure Boss.” He dips his hat and takes a step from me.

“Rico!”

“Yeah.”

“Neat. Make it neat.”

“But Boss, you always take 3 cubes.”

I pause and without shifting my head stare hard at Rico. “Almost dyin’ will change a man Rico. Neat.”

“Sure thing Boss. Good to have you back.”

I cast my gaze across the room to my table. I see Kid Tony sitting there looking like he’s seen a ghost. I don’t blame him, I would too if the situation was reversed. I weave my way across the floor between tables. I pass men I thought I knew well, men who now can’t bring themselves to look me in the eye.

I arrive at my table. Kid Tony sits slumped, already defeated, a far cry from the last time I saw him standing over me with a gun.

“You think I’m dumb enough to teach you absolutely everything I know Kid Tony. You fucked me. So now you’re gonna get up, walk out the back your head held high and die like a man.”

“But..”

“Shhhhhhh. No, come on now, don’t make excuses. You made a play, I respect that you had to try, I do. But you fucked it up.”

Kid Tony slid from my booth as Sinatra hit his crescendo, “Ain’t that a kick in the heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaad.”

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Exchange

August 25, 2010 in E

By David Stewart


Come on. Everyone else has paired up and there’s just you and me. What do you say girl – your place or mine?

It’s just I know I could do better. Maybe another guy is going to arrive any minute.

No the party’s winding down. This is it. I tell you what, how’s this for a plan:  we’ll go back to your place and have sex and then I’ll fix that virus problem you said you had with your computer.

Okay, deal.

Fantastic.

And you can hook me up to my wireless internet while you’re there.

Ah.

What?

Well it’s just that’s a big job. I mean the virus thing could take a while and the internet as well… it just feels like you’re getting a really good deal.

I tell you what. I’ll do my strip routine for you. I’ll strip off and give you a real show, then we’ll have sex and you sort out my computer problems.

Okay, done.

Although I used to strip professionally so now it’s like you’re getting a really good deal.

How about in addition to the computer issues I fix that problem you were having with your mobile phone…

(Thirty minutes later)

…so to summarize. You come back to my place and I strip off, give you a lap dance, we have sex and then you fix my computer problems and my phone while I bake you my chocolate sponge cake and let you tell me your theory about the three Matrix films and then I give you a shoulder massage while you copy your anime DVD’s for my brother then you clean my car while I take some photographs of my breasts for you to save onto a memory stick.

Done. That’s a fair deal that’s equal on both sides.

Although my chocolate sponge cake really is delicious…

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Time

August 24, 2010 in T

By Andy Zito


I’m working way too hard at the moment – it seems like everything I’ve planned to do in the next few days won’t be happening and I have no idea when I’ll find the time to do it.

I just need a little more time.

I get up in the morning and just go, go – I just get up and go, and my day begins almost with a momentum that I need to catch up to – my work happens and I eat, I fill the day with everything I have to do and think to myself, ‘if I have some time today, I’ll…’ and then someone comes in and asks me if I have any time.

‘Of course I have time, what do you need?’

I just need MORE time.

This week I got up and went on Monday, worked, ate, worked, ate, then it was time for bed. But I wasn’t home yet, so I headed that way and found sleep.

This week, Tuesday was the same, Wednesday followed, Thursday didn’t stop and Friday came and went. Saturday was too quick and by Sunday I didn’t know what day it was.

Now it’s Monday, I’ve done my work for the day, sure I started early and yes, I worked hard, but something happened today, something weird.

I was finished by lunchtime, and I came home.

I have some time today.

Now I don’t know what to do.

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Lagoon

August 23, 2010 in L

By Jason Geary


Suited men and women sit at regular intervals along the length of the long board table like Stone Golems, all focused on me. They are identical, literally cut from the same cloth. I lift my finger and let it settle on the fourth man on my right. “What’s the product?” I ask firmly.

Without changing his expression he ticked out the answer. “Justice, sir” I may as well have been talking to a clock face. It would have more personality.

“Right. A tough one.” I put my hands up behind my head and knit my fingers, I let the weight of my head sink into them. I kick my feet up onto the table and rock my weight back in my chair. I scan the cloned faces at the table before I close my eyes.

The lingering vision of the boardroom melts away, replaced by an inky black. There is light from someplace, providing contrast, but I’m not conscious from where it springs, just like laughter. Laughter. I hear it echo in the black. If there is an echo then there are walls. Good. I know this place. I’ve been here before. I walk forward and find a wall. It feels like damp earth. I dig my fingers into the clay and pull chunks from it causing avalanche after avalanche on a macro scale. After a concerted effort sunlight illuminates my hand shining through from the other side. The shard of light cleaves the black in two. Birdsong fills the room as I rip the hole in the wall large enough to squeeze through. I step into the most beautiful dappled light; I look up and see a rainforest canopy above me. The leaves of the trees are alive with words. I push my way through the foliage to the edge of a lagoon. In its centre bubbles stir the water sending out concentric rings that lap at my toes. As they do I feel my synapses begin to fire. The bubbling in the lake becomes suddenly violent like the irrational tantrum of a child. Sound waves rise from the surface of the lagoon and shake words from the branches of the trees. They fall onto the surface of the water and arrange themselves into a phrase. It is beautiful.

I open my eyes.

All the faces stare with perverse anticipation.

“Write this down. A woman in a bikini blindfolded holding scales. The slug line is Justice maybe be blind, but we’ve got to look at her.”

Everyone gasps and claps.

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Gaffe

August 20, 2010 in G

By David Stewart


Welcome back to the election gaffe-off which tonight is coming to you live from the press-club in Canberra. The rules are simple – both party leaders have consumed a bottle of tequila and are now sharing a stage for an hour. Their various gaffes are being recorded and will be reported in full in tomorrow’s press. This format replaces the traditional leader’s debate which has recently become a stale opportunity for leader’s to turn questions into pre-prepared statements.

The evening began sedately with the Prime Minister attempting to outline a policy without ever stating what the policy was actually about and whether she was for or against whatever the policy regarded. The Leader of the opposition meanwhile spent ten minutes trying to pronounce the words “Prime Minister” before launching into a scathing attack about the government’s refusal to address “The problem of the…thing,” an issue which clearly caused him considerable irritation.

Then the gaffe’s finally started to begin in earnest. The PM admitted she only pretended to enjoy Football. The Leader of the opposition confessed to finding his wife boring – the first point of agreement between the two leaders for the entire evening.  Race then dominated the proceedings and it looked like the PM was going to register the gaffe of the evening with a comment about “bloody Asians” but was topped by her opponent who wholeheartedly agreed and expressed a mistrust for “all  fucking migrants” the first use of the f-word in an official political broadcast.

A moderator introduced the topic of gay marriage which prompted the Opposition Leader to scream “Shut Up I’ve got a fucking funny joke about poofs!” at the top of his voice while the PM attempted to make it clear that gay people shouldn’t be discriminated against at all ever and also shouldn’t marry or adopt children.

You join us just as the Leader of the Opposition has taken rather a melancholy turn and started to lament the loneliness of the political life, a theme the PM seems only too happy to warm to. Both leaders are in tears now claiming that the Australian people don’t understand them. And they’ve just declared the other to be their best friend and are now in the middle of a tearful hug. I’ll go on record here as predicting a drunken sing-a-long any minute, possibly Khe Sahn but I wouldn’t rule out Throw your arms around Me.

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Direction

August 19, 2010 in D

By Jason Geary

I’m beginning to doubt myself. I am driving. That much I’m sure of. The road is long and straight; it disappears to a singular point on the horizon directly in front of me. I barely need to steer. It seems as if I am being sucked toward it helplessly rather than driving there of my own volition. The outback landscape is arid, flat with spotted patches flora covering the cracked earth like the back of an old man’s hand. I look at the back of my hand, it’s not cracked yet, but it has certainly lost the elasticity of youth.

There I go again. Off on a tangent. What is my destination? Damn. I knew when I set out. But after days of driving toward that vanishing point I’m wondering if my mind has arrived before me. Leaving me with no way to weave these ribbons of logic into rope strong enough to hang a thought on.

Where am I going?

In the distance I see a man-made object. Out here it looks… Alien. I watch it slowly increase in size as it approaches, as if somebody is pouring it into being. A sign? It is. It stands weather-beaten and splintered, left without a thought since the day it was erected. A word sits in the center mocking me.

It reads: ‘Halfway.’

I’m sure I hear it laughing as it streaks past my window. I check the window mirror, the sign looks no more attractive from the other side.

“Only Halfway.” I sigh to myself. The voice I hear sounds like a bad impression of me. I don’t know if I’m even going in the right direction.

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Questions

August 19, 2010 in Q

By David Stewart


The war council was in place. All eye-stalks swiveled towards the leader as he took command.
“We must discuss our plans for planet earth. Have we found the weakness in the humans that we can exploit to our own end?”
The head spy in charge of earth-intelligence oozed an embarrassed sheen of slime and shuffled his tentacles awkwardly. “Um about that, exalted leader. We find the humans confusing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They confuse us!” Said the number two spy. “We don’t understand anything about them. They get terrified of one small furry creature and put down traps to kill them and then they willingly feed another larger furry creature who attacks their furniture and sheds hair on their beds.”
“They have arguments that sometimes become violent caused by games involving a ball.”
“The males say a woman-earthling is “hot” and that they would like to make physical contact involving their dangly parts but if their dangly parts do touch anything hot they become agitated and make the screaming noise.”
“And the words “sick”, “wicked” and “bad” can all be negatives or positive descriptions”
“And they are repulsed by their own bodily waste and yet refer to it constantly in speech and find jokes about it to be hilarious.”
The leader held up his tentacles and interrupted their anguished cries. “Clearly what we need to do is to make further efforts to understand their ways. I suggest we establish a means by which the humans give us all the knowledge we require.”
“How would we do that, Oh exalted leader?”
“We set up a database of information. Something that the humans themselves create but we can access. Something that provides every fact about their race and will allow us to analyze them fully as a species. A storage of all earth knowledge.”
“The humans have a primitive version in place already. The call it an Encyclopedia. We found it lacking in many important details.”
“What we require is one of these encyclopedia with every fact in place and nothing omitted. Only the humans would be stupid enough to allow such an invaluable resource for an invading species to ever exist. And we will trick them into making it themselves.”
“We could call it A Trickypedia!”
“Hmm… catchy but the name is a bit obvious. Could we come up with something that rhymes with Trickypedia?”

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Safety

August 18, 2010 in S

By Jason Geary


Sometimes my daughter climbs into my arms and curls herself so that we fit together perfectly. I close my arms around her and breathe her in.

She replies by echoing my sigh and giving me the slightest squeeze.

Often we sit, in silence for the longest time. Being. Together. Two parts of a whole.

A smile creeps onto my face, my belly tingles and my heart skips.

I know she’s thinking that right now, in this moment, nothing in the world could ever hurt her.

That’s the truth.

Not just for that moment.

But forever.

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Structure

August 18, 2010 in S

By David Stewart


Okay this next slide is one you’ll all be familiar with. It’s just our corporate structure. The CEO at the very top of course and the various departmental heads and staff members arranged in a-

Sorry Brian why is there a badger in our corporate structure?

What do you mean?

Just there below the Deputy Assistant Director of Marketing.

So there is. A badger.

Are you telling me that I’m below a badger?

No of course not. It’s clearly a mistake of some kind.

Perhaps it’s supposed to be a raccoon?

It’s not any woodland animal. It’s a mistake. There’s no badger anywhere in our corporate structure.

Why is there a clown in there as well? Just below the Vice President of Merriment.

We don’t have a clown in our corporation. In fact I’m fairly sure we don’t even have a department called Merriment.

Are you telling me I’m getting paid less than a badger?

No it’s a mistake. They’re both mistakes – the badger and the clown are not supposed to be there.

What about Thor the god of Thunder?

Oh come on! Which idiot put Thor in our corporate structure?

My money’s on the clown. I bet he’s the one who produces our pie charts as well.

I can’t believe someone has been buggering around with our corporate structure. This is a vital document that’s essential to the smooth running of this company and some fool is having fun with it. For the last time we do not employ any badgers or Norse gods, there is no department of merriment and no clowns work anywhere in our corporation! Right, I’m moving on. This next slide is our financial report.

Why are we spending 300 grand a year on balloons?

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Suave

August 17, 2010 in S

By David Stewart


She looked gorgeous. But then she always looked gorgeous. We both entered the lift on the ground floor together which meant I had 37 floors of small talk to be impressive. I always dreamed of exactly this chance. I had a plan: a series of witty one-liners about how stupid Arthur the security guard was. Guaranteed laughs.

The doors were just closing when Greg’s hand came into view. He forced the doors open and stepped inside. He looked cool, tough and masculine. Suave. He looked suave but then he always looked suave. Stupid word. But that’s how he looked.

“I hate lifts,” she said. “They always make me nervous. They just don’t feel safe.”

Greg ran a hand through his thick black hair. “They’re actually amazingly safe. There are three separate cables supporting the lift, any one of which is enough to take it’s weight on it’s own. There’s also two sets of brakes on either side. In the incredibly unlikely event that all three cables snap, any one of the four separate braking systems is enough to slow us down. At the bottom of this shaft there’s a spring-loaded pad designed to absorb shock. We’re safer in here than we are standing on the street.”

She gave him a look. It said she wanted him to take her there in the lift and trusted him completely and thought he was the best thing in the world.

I wanted to be looked at like that.

I cleared my throat: “”Of course what most people don’t consider is if the floor of the lift rusts and gives way there’s nothing between us and a 39 storey drop to our certain death.”

She gave me a very different look.

I hate the word suave. I hate it with a passion.

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Hope

August 16, 2010 in H

By Mario Gomez


“Is everyone gone?”

Was it possible? Did everyone finally leave?

Hope was ecstatic. She almost couldn’t believe it. She finally had the place all to herself. No more Envy, no more Anger, no more Misery, no more Fear. She was going to really enjoy having the place all to herself.

It had felt like an eternity living in that cramped, windowless, little box with everyone else. The poor air circulation and the clay walls made for unbearable heat in the summer and a lingering sweat stench for the rest of the year. And it wasn’t like they all really got along together; every single day there was someone going for someone else’s throat. Sometimes, the others would let them fight just to get some entertainment. It wasn’t healthy and it drove Hope crazy. The only thing that kept her going day in and day out was…

“Hope!” she giggled at her own cleverness.

She was finally free.

And it was all thanks to that stupid, stubborn, wonderful woman who just couldn’t keep her curiosity in check.

Hope decided she would hang around and help the humans in order to repay them for freeing them.

But, that could wait.

In the meantime, she was going to work on her tan and enjoy some well-deserved peace and quiet in her now open and empty Box.

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Return

August 16, 2010 in R

By Caitlin Curtis


“I’m sorry Sir, I’ll need to pass you along to my manager”, the young lady behind the showcase looked nervous and I supposed she was new.  I stared at her and considered giving her more grief.  I was aware she didn’t have the authority to refund my purchase but I also didn’t care, sometimes bad things happen for no good reason.

“I’ll go get him now.” She left me alone at the front of the shop.  It seemed different than a week earlier, but then it was rainy today and last week was pure sunshine.  I usually pace when I’m waiting but I stayed stationed at the counter.  I didn’t know what the hell was taking so long for the manager to greet me.  Isn’t it his job to deal with me?  A wave of nausea came over me.  I thrust my hand against the counter to steady myself as I was suddenly overwhelmingly dizzy.  I tried to focus as I heard the managers footsteps come from the back of the shop.  I knew the sales lady would have already explained what I wanted but I was prepared to give him hell.

“Good afternoon Mister Wells, it’s nice to have you in again.”

I stared at him and lost my resolution to fight.  What a nice man. What a charming and helpful man.

“What seems to be the matter?  Did we misjudge the size?”

I could have laughed. I could have punched him.

“It’s not the size”, I tried to unclench my jaw, “I need my money back”.

He gave me a panicked look, ‘I’m sorry Mister Wells, as you know you’re order was a final sale.”

Why is everyone so quick to tell me how sorry they are?  They aren’t.  If they were truly sorry they would change things.

“Because of the special we had on Sir”, he was still talking, “because of the special it does become a final sale, there isn’t anything I can do for you”.

I didn’t have a chance.  I never did and I should have seen it sooner. A lump was growing in my throat and I turned to leave.

“Mister Wells?” it was the saleslady, “You can always save it for the next time you propose”.

She smiled as if this was to be comforting.

“Screw off” I choked.

I wish there had been more strength in my voice.

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One

August 13, 2010 in O

By Mario Gomez


And a-one, and a-two, and a-three…

As the saxophonist played a sweet melody I looked at the girl seating across the table. She had long, blonde hair. She was definitely a looker. Her name was Gaby and she was my date.

“Beautiful song isn’t it?” she asked.

I smiled.

It had been a good date so far: a walk through the waterfront, a fabulous dinner, and a nightcap in the new jazz club. Conversation had been great. All in all, this had been the perfect first date.

I just wasn’t feeling it.

The music reminded me of Anna, my high school sweetheart. We thought it was love; three years of going steady seemed to confirm it. Then, we went off to college and one semester later we had outgrown each other. So much for that.

After that I met Cecilia, Carolina, and Claudia. I learned from them how horrible first dates can go and how important it is to have a spare change of clothes in your car.

Priscilla was a shy, quiet girl who spent most of her day in a book. She was smart, but she was looking for prince charming.

Jill broke my heart and my bank.

“Penny for your thoughts!” Gabby said.
“I, I got carried away by the song.” I lied.
“I know! I love this song too! Here, let me go freshen up and then you can walk me home.”

As she walked away I looked at her purse. Miranda and I saw the same purse on our first day in Paris. Five days later she met Pierre and decided to stay. I met Corinne on the flight back and she was good for a rebound.

I met Emily after I moved for my first job. She was beautiful, smart, funny, and married to a friend.

“This is me.” Gabby said smiling. “I had a wonderful time.”
“So did I.”

We kissed briefly.

That’s when I decided I was going to call her back after all.

I’ve always believed it only takes one. It doesn’t matter how much heartbreak you go through, how many bad dates, or how many rejections; you need to keep looking. At the end of the day it only takes one person to make it all worth it.

I don’t know if it will be her, but there’s only one way to find out.

Only one.

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Ransom

August 12, 2010 in R

By Jason Geary


I didn’t know how I’d come across the information. I couldn’t even remember the specifics. That didn’t seem to matter to these heavyset men. I could taste my own blood, though I couldn’t tell if it was coming from the inside of my lip or a cut in my gum. My tongue was so swollen that inspecting the site of the wound with it was pointless. I spat blood onto the floor, not as some heroic gesture of defiance, but out of sheer practicality. I couldn’t speak with a mouthful of clotted blood.

“I… Don’t… Know…”

A fist hit me hard in the back of the head. My vision blurred and I felt blood warm the back of my neck as it made its slow journey into my collar.  I blinked my vision clear and locked eyes with the neatly dressed man sitting opposite me.

He took a long drag of his cigarette then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. I thought it unbecoming that such a well-dressed man should sit in such a manner. It ruined the line of his suit for starters. He blew his smoke out with a long breath. It hit me in the face. I didn’t taste it. Blood beats smoke for taste.

“I am going to give you this last chance. If you do not choose to accept it, know this, matters between us will become serious.”

Serious? What was this, playtime?

He continued. “The choice is yours Mr. Lucas If you give us the information we require I will see to it that you and your family are compensated and you rehabilitated from this unfortunate encounter.”

My family? After all that I’d been through the mention of my family was the first thing that really hurt.

“We understand that you are simply an unfortunate link in this chain of events. You are however, the only link we have. Give us what we need Mr. Lucas”

“I don’t remember. It was on the south side. Someplace near Kingsville.”

The man stood as he heaved a heavy sigh. He adjusted his suit lapel, and beginning with his right side, gently tugged his shirt cuffs from his jacket sleeves. It was a nice suit, it hung well on him. He flicked his cigarette at me. Then reached into his inside pocket and removed a photo.

“I am truly regretful that it has had to come to this. These are however consequences of an action you have chosen to take.”

He threw the photo onto my lap. It was my wife and daughter sitting frightened in a van. I stared at it for the longest time, blood dripped from my brow onto the picture. A goon stood close to my side and the man walked to the door he said “You have 48 hours Mr. Lucas from the moment you come to.”

The goon hit me hard, I blacked out before I hit the floor.

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Laugh

August 12, 2010 in L

By Rik Brown


Like an anchor she stood.
Immaculately unmovable.
She took the full force of the storm, seeming to grow stronger the longer it raged.
The trees around her bent and strained, failing to match her stoic resistance.
As the rain lashed and the lightning flashed, she found herself laughing.
The heartfelt laugh of the unexpectedly victorious.
She knew the storm was running out of puff.
Punch-drunk on its own theatrics.
Her laugh grew louder as the wind died down.
One last roll of thunder in the distance had the grumbling tone of defeat.

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Landing

August 11, 2010 in L

By Caitlin Curtis


I woke up and felt gross.  The stale pressurized air in the cabin of my flight was enough to make me nauseous if I really thought about it.  As recycled germs ran through me I rubbed my eyes and blinked into the sun.  I felt sweat on my forehead and sort of wondered if I was sweating more because up here I was closer to the sun.  Thank god nobody was seated beside me, I was a complete disaster.  I didn’t mean to fall asleep but exhaustion will do that to you.  I wish I had thought ahead and not spent last night drunk.  I pulled out my phone to check the time, to see if I still had time to get my act together before landing.  I hadn’t so much as pressed down the ‘on’ button before the welcome chime drew a serious glare from the flight attendant.  There was at least enough time to pretty up.  I pulled my purse out from under the seat in front of me and bee lined it for the front washroom.  Still glaring at me I pushed past the flight attendant and called her a cow under my breath.  She heard me.

Cramped in the disgusting cubicle I dumped my entire make up bag into the sink.  Mascara, lip gloss and foundation to cover the huge black holes under my eyes.  Well, try to hide them.  I brushed my hair and thought that maybe instead of miserable and hung over I looked well worked and contemplative.  It was a stretch.  The seatbelt light came on and sent a shock of anxiety through me.  I was going home sooner than later now.

I was the last to walk down the ramp to the baggage claim.  I tried my best to look happy but I could barely get past the pounding in my skull.  He slipped his arm around with a stupid smile, “How was the conference Honey?” I shrugged and half hugged him back.  He seems to believe these are business trips, and who am I to stop him?

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How

August 10, 2010 in H

By Jason Geary


“… And so, all that’s left to do is place plug D5 into socket X1 then securely latch the insular coupling. There. Now that wasn’t too difficult was it Charles? Place it on your head. Good Charles, good. Upon activation you will have the ability to control the thoughts of others merely by projecting your thoughts upon them. All except mine, I am no fool.”

“But Sinister Minister. How does it….”

“Work? Now Charles, You’d best not know how. I’m offering you a chance to become a god. Doesn’t the idea of controlling the mind of another human being appeal to you boy?”

“Why yes, very much so. I’d like that very much Sinister Minister.”

“Then sit still as I activate the device.”

The Sinister Minister strode purposefully from the room leaving Charles sitting dead centre on a steel stool. A huge steel door slid shut behind him and the deep sound bounced between the polished silver walls. Charles became uneasy. The Sinister Minister’s voice was piped into the room though Charles couldn’t see source of the sound.

“Relax Charles, this won’t take a moment.”

The Sinister Minister pressed a series of buttons on his control panel at a reckless speed. The device sprung to life. Eight long needle sharp legs extended from the device and folded down onto Charles’ neck and shoulders like spiders legs.

“Minister I’d like this to stop now. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

The room filled with sound. “I told you Charles. Best not to know how. Goodbye.”

The legs pierced Charles’ skin and screwed in, pulling the helmet into his skull. Wires became mixed with flesh and the awful sound of bone cracking drowned out his screams. His body shook violently, then suddenly, all was still.

The Sinister Minister closed his eyes and thought about jumping…

Charles jumped.

Success.

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Prism

August 9, 2010 in P

By Jason Geary

“No, no, I’m happy. Don’t be silly, I moved here for you. Without a doubt it was the best move of my life. I don’t want for anything or anyone I’ve left behind.  But… Joanne, here’s what has been bothering me since I arrived… Why do you paint me in different light for each of your friends?”

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Battery

August 6, 2010 in B

By Jason Geary


You know me. Your mother told you about me.

I sit on my jumper and watch the city pass me by. Most people won’t make eye contact and those that do have mixed responses. Some give me change, some sneer, some project themselves onto me and imagine what it would be like to live on the street.  To most I’m a cautionary tale. I’m what they never want to become. I’m the lowest of the low. I’m what is wrong with the world. I’m worthless.

But those that take the time to really look see that I’m happy.  I’ve got the world in the palm of my hand. They walk past here asking themselves ‘What’s he got to be so happy about?’  With a sly smile on my face I move the edge of my jumper and reveal a small panel in the pavement secured by a single screw. I remove the screw and lift the panel. Beneath it is a housing containing three AA batteries.  A woman walks by and makes a face like I just spat in her salad, that’s the moment I lift a battery out.

Everything stops. The entire city. The whole world for all I know. All but me. The woman wears her sneer like a mask. I spray her face to fix her look. I’ll hold her like this till it sets. Until the wrinkles dig into her face, until her lip stays curled like that. Until her muscles feel that this is normal. That’s when I’ll put the battery back in.

Do you remember me now? Your mother might have said “Don’t pull faces because the wind might change and you’ll stay that way forever.”

I’m the wind.

Night, night.

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Mountain

August 5, 2010 in M

By Jason Geary


Otis Hershall places the last stone.

It is greeted by an eruption of thunderous applause but Otis doesn’t care. He’s finished. Now he can be with her. He scans the crowd looking for her. Why isn’t she here?

Otis has spent 73 years extracting, digging and moving stone after stone one foot to the west.

10 years from the day he began Estelle had offered him her hand in marriage, she was happy that he had shown his commitment to her, but no, Otis continued.

15 years after that she gave him an ultimatum. “Stop this ridiculous romantic gesture and marry her or lose the chance all together.”

He quite simply replied, “A promise is a promise, Estelle.” Then he wiped the sweat from his brow and went back to work.

Over the years since he has taken little notice of the news crews or of the tourists taking pictures of him. The T-shirt stands. The souvenir shops with the viewing platforms. He’s ignored the industry that had been built around him. A promise is a promise.

The applause is deafening as he scans the sea of humanity, looking for Estelle. He sees her face on t-shirts next to his. On posters under the slogan ‘If That’s What It Takes.’ Or “ A Promise Is A Promise.”  He sees their names plastered across placards encased in love hearts.

But he can’t see her. Anywhere.

‘How long ago was it that I last saw her?’ He thought to himself. Time had lost its meaning to him. He measured days in volumes of earth.

He was sure she’d be here for this.

He stumbles backward, his body giving up. People squeal and rush to his aid. He looks to his right, to where the mountain once was. Then he looks at the one-foot he’s moved it. Otis lets his eyes fall closed and feels them fill with tears. He can still see her, still hear her voice from that day 73 years ago all sing-song and flirtatious “Anything? Really? Would you move mountains for me, Otis Hershall?”

“If that’s what it takes Miss Estelle. If that’s what it takes.”

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Snooze

August 5, 2010 in S

By Caitlin Curtis


I half notice that my left arm is freezing cold.  All on their own my legs stretch out right down to my pointed toes and it’s overwhelmingly satisfying. Most of my mind is still cuddled up in a hammock on a beach in Spain. Far in the distance I can hear my dog Sadie scratch at her food bowl and I can’t escape the thought that something important should happen soon. My arm pulls itself under covers and is met with perfectly body warmed satin sheets.  Hammock, sunshine, complete bliss.  My body curls itself up into a ball and sinks deeper into my memory foam mattress. It seems odd that I would have any consciousness at all before my alarm has sounded.  I realize that life is so simple and lovely.  My face stretches itself into a huge smile and every semblance of tension melts out of my body.  I feel the hammock gently rocking in the breeze and wonder if being on ecstasy would feel this good.  Sadie drops her bowl right beside my bed and it crashes on the wooden floor.   She shoves her wet and slimy nose under my covers and right against my thigh.  The hammock comes crashing down as my body twists itself out of her reach and bolts itself upright.  My left arm is tangled in a sheet and my heart is pounding dizziness throughout me. Then I see my clock and wonder how it got so late.  Do I even have time to shower for work? Blasted left arm, always pushing the snooze without my permission.

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Explore

August 4, 2010 in E

By Jason Geary


“Report?”

“We have five men, 3 camels and the water bladders are full from the last creek. We have four weeks food at best, enough supply to return home with minimal loss of life… If we turn back now.”

“No Bill, we go on. We reach the coast.”

“We won’t make it Robert. You know that.”

The men made eye contact.

“Did you say goodbye to Clementine when we departed?”

“Yes, I bid her a proper farewell.”

“Did you say goodbye?”

“Yes.”

“Did she understand what that meant?”

There was a long pause in which the endless desert that surrounded them seemed to inch the horizon slightly further away.

“Yes.”

“You’ve set things right Bill. You’ve no case to answer. We go on. Give the remaining men the option to turn back here. They turn back now or stay with us to the coast.”

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Realist

August 3, 2010 in R

By Jason Geary


The gambit had played perfectly. Without risk there is no reward. And so, here I am sitting in a bar for beautiful people opposite a woman who by all accounts is way out of my league. I scan the bar all the beautiful strangers stare without discretion confirming that I am alien here.

The conversation has turned to her.  Well, to be honest, I’ve directed it that way. The less that is known about me the better. She flicks her hair from her shoulder exposing her neck and left ear. They are beautiful, her neck long and slender, her ear compact and perfect. Her hair flies a glorious arc and lands with a soft spring on her shoulders.

Exposure of the neck. She may as well be in my bed now.  I slide across the bench seat and nestle in close to her. I can feel the envy of every other man in the room. I make a flirty quip and lay my hand on her thigh, it’s received with a slight parting of her knees. I lay my head onto her shoulders and whisper to her as I kiss her neck. As I retreat from this surgical strike I smell her perfume.

“What perfume is that you’re wearing? Is that Chanel No 5?” I ask. Looking up into her deep green eyes.

“Yes it is. You like? It’s a subtle classic.”

I push myself away from her as quickly as I can trying not to dry wretch.

“Wha… What is the matter?” She asked.

“I’m sorry, this isn’t going to work out.”

“But… Wha? Why not?”

“My mother wears Chanel no 5. Always has. I can’t do it. It can never work.”

“Don’t be silly. I can change my perfume. I’ll wear what ever you like. Just sit down please.” She was turning pink, embarrassed. I imagine this sort of thing doesn’t often happen to her.

I patted my pockets for my keys, “I’m sorry it’s too late, you’ve crossed into the same scent pool as my mother. It’s off. I can’t do it. Have you got a lift home?”

“I drove.”

“Okay then, I’m sorry about this but there’s really is nothing I can do.”

I turned with a small pang of regret. All those weeks of worked ruined. If only perfume could be limited by generation, that’d save me a lot of time and effort. On the way past the bar I grab a handful of coffee beans and breathe deep to cleanse. The barman yells something at me, hell what do I care I’ll never get back inside this joint ever again.

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Order

August 3, 2010 in O

By Caitlin Curtis


Crawl and then walk, pencil and then pen.

Roberto knew how things were meant to work, he had followed the rules his whole life.

High school and then college, dinner and then dessert.

Lola knew how things were supposed to work but didn’t always follow the rules that Roberto did.  Sometimes she would put her clothes in the dryer before the washer and sometimes she would drink her tea before she boiled the water.

This would make Roberto irked and then frustrated.  Roberto would explain to her that she must dine and then pay, that she must hear the joke and then laugh.

Lola wouldn’t explain anything to Roberto.

As fate would have it, Roberto and Lola bumped into one another in a cave.

Lola had a sip from her canteen and then opened it.  Lola tied up her boot and then knelt down.  Lola put on her coat and then got chilly. Roberto had little and then no tolerance for this nonsense, he wished they could go from acquaintances to strangers.

Then something amazing happened.  A family of bats scattered through the cave.

Richard ducked and then screamed.

Lola laughed and then ducked.

As Lola stood up she echoed and then yelled hello to the bats.

Richard couldn’t stop what happened next.  He watched Lola twirling around and his heart jumped straight from still to pounding.

Roberto did something new.

He kissed Lola and then asked.

Lola answered by kissing him back.

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Vibrant

August 2, 2010 in V

By Jason Geary


Drake frowned. This afternoon was perfectly horrible. Grey, dull and wet. Not the type of weather to inspire a romantic mood. Strictly speaking Drake wasn’t allowed to use magic to win anybody’s affections, and particularly in relation to wooing a woman. Though, he thought, this was not technically using magic on her directly. So he forgave himself with little hesitation.

“Springvibrantis, illuminato” Drake whispered with a surreptitious wave of his wand.

In an instant the colour of the light changed, warming considerably in its hue. Deep green leaves sprouted in the bare branches and white blossoms followed quickly. The fountain to his left sprang to life, despite not having worked for years. Bird song filled the air and the scent of flowers drifted on the gentle breeze.

Yes, this will do nicely Drake thought. Gillian approached smelling the air and light on her feet, she saw Drake waiting for her and beamed a smile toward him.  Drake blushed, for all the magic he had used to make this moment perfect; it paled in comparison her smile.

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Hidden

August 2, 2010 in H

By Caitlin Curtis


Allie moved her feet around the water in a circular motion that sent ripples out across the lake.  She sighed heavily as she watched the sunlight dancing across the water, the sun was quickly setting and she would need to get back to the bar to make sure that the singles night dance she had organized was properly set up.  ‘With any luck Chloe took the night off like I suggested’ thought Allie with some hope, ‘tonight could actually run smoothly without all of the extra stress around there.’  Allie let her legs dangle for one more moment as she took in her surroundings fully.  This part of the beach was completely removed from where the surfers, boaters and beach combers would be found.  Allie herself had only stumbled upon the clearing a few weeks earlier when she had taken a wrong turn on an early morning hike.  The water was just as gorgeous here as anywhere else on the island, maybe even more so without the noise and banter of families and children.  The clearing was surrounded by forest and unmarked palm trees and Allie had come to visit the spot whenever she could steal a moment to herself.  With no more time to spare, Allie slipped on her flip flops and hurried back to the Marina to host the night’s dance.  She felt somewhat refreshed as she ran back through the forest and away from the water.  While single’s night wasn’t her favourite thing to endure she was certain that it would be bearable, after all she was the events planner, and she was lucky to have the job.  Allie promised herself that she would come back to the beach after the nights work had been finished so that she could unwind at her own pace.  She was of course completely unaware that once again, she wouldn’t be alone.

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