Slowly, achingly, inexorably, the sun's tendrils crept tentatively over the
yawning city with pussy-footed stealth.
It was time for Brian, an extremely paranoid schizophrenic, to get up and face the world. Brian stared in the mirror of his small bathroom and realized that it had been a while since he had last shaved. He pulled on the fur that was almost touching his collar bone and yawned. Today was the day! He was going to actually leave the apartment and go out for breakfast. As Brian dressed himself in his favorite pink dress, terrorizing thoughts raced through his mind. What if when he got to the place he didn't like any of the food? What if he sees the person that served him food wasn't wearing rubber gloves? What if there's a drive by shooting just as we walks out of the apartment? What if the sun suddenly blots out and the entire earth freezes while he's stuck in the middle of the city? What if he orders a plate of hash browns and there isn't any ketchup?!!!!! Brian bagan to breathe through a paper bag as he took that giant step and pulled the door to his apartment open. He walked down the street, panicki
ng, sweating and ready to run back to his home where he can sit comfortably and stare at his ceiling. But no, he HAD to do this! He had to prove to himself that he can go to a nice little place with food and actually eat. He finally chose place. Brian turned a corner on Groton Ave and pushed he glass door open. A woman stared at him from behind the service counter and forced herself to smile. "Can I help you?" she stopped smiling when she realized that Brian was about to spew. He shook his head wildly and walked further into the store, doing laps around the racks for at least two hours. He suddenly stopped and looked at what was on the racks. There were shelves of movies! Movies he hadn't seen, either! "Teminator Two", he sounded out loud. He smiled at the woman who approached him. "Wow!" he exclaimed, "This must be a new one!". The woman wasn't impressed with poor Brian. "Excuse me,Sir" she folded her arms, "but do you plan on renting a movie or are you just going to stand here all day? Isn't there anythin
g I can get you?" Brian held his breath, listening to his heart pound and nearly passing out. But he HAD to ask - for his own good! "YES!" He finally blurted out, "Do you have any... any.... Dough
The house had lain dormant for decades, perched there on Coogan's Bluff. Nothing had disturbed its
slumber since the burning time.
Then on a hot summer day in July a group of kids decided to venture up to the house to have some fun or so they thought. Little Timmy pushed on the door watching as it slowly opened. The boys saw cobwebs, furniture with old sheets on them and pictures that had strange people on them as they walked in to the room. As they walked in to the next room they saw what appeared to be a trail of blood. As curious as all kids are they decided to follow the trail and see where it went. Walking through the next room they could hear the sound of a creature behind the door in the next room. The kids, now being very stupid, decided to go ever so close to the door to see what creature was. As the kids got closer could hear heavy breathing, then there was a roar. The kids, now scared, ran towards the door to get away and get help. There were almost to the door when it slammed shut trapping the boys and with a few loud cries for help and a spine ttingling roar the house on Coogan's Bluff was quiet once again.
Gleech checked his radial circuitry one last time before shutting the hatch. Ionizing radiation in this part of
the Uncharted Zone was playing havoc with his motor skills, and occasionally caused a brief hallucination to
flash through his otherwise logical brain paths. Gleeck was the type of robot that everyone loved. His shiny chrome exterior with the intellect of a super-human computer at his beck and call. What was it all worth? What was he really meant to do in this vast vacuum with some dust and accumulated rock here and there? Everyone got along with Gleech, but somehow that wasn't enough. He longed to go explore different galaxies and rule over any unsuspecting mediocrity of a society.
As he set off on his way, he decided that he must leave and search out his destiny. After much travelling, he came upon a tiny solar system. In this system there was a particularly beautiful planet. He decided to go and see what it was like a little more. He finally came to the conclusion that these "people" would be a good kind to overpower. He would start his plot to take over the universe with this tiny insignificant piece of dust. He was now on his way to becoming the greatest ruler of the universe time has ever known, at least until time had come.
Chance Diceland, cunning purveyor of useless information and insignificant pencil pusher from building 4G - 4th floor, heaved a heavy sigh as he stared at the arduous task before him. Today, by no fault of his own, he is forced to employ his pedals and ascend four flights of stair in order to reach his turret prison of an office. Normally, Chance would make use of his digits and punch in the well worn '4' button in the elevator, but today...the body, the blood, the unspeakable. The once animate corpse of his co-worker, Norma Truffles, had been found at the base of the elevator shaft, closing off all operations and opening up a full scale investigation - The only visible clue appearing to be the shaved eyebrows of the victim. Now Chance's office was crawling with police and detectives and he worriedly wondered how he would pursue his daily illegal internet habits without arousing suspicions.
The morning broke slowly, gentle light filtering through the curtain of the
world, not yet bright enough to wake the host, at whose flews Pulin'dra
drank long and deeply. "Today," she thought. "Today will be the day I leap to
the goddess. I have led a long and prosperous life, since moulting to
adulthood, and leaping from the old host to the new. My offspring are
numerous like the sands, and my host is aged enough, so as not to be able
to shake us free. The goddess of the world chooses to let us inhabit our
host, and for that, we worship her. But today, I will sacrifice all, and
jump to the goddess to die."Her reveries at the flews were cut short, as a rumble announced the presence of the goddess, and Pulin'dra looked up to watch, as, yet again, the arm of the goddess drew back the curtain of the world, warming the host. As she flexed her coxae, anticipating the jump that would take her from the host forever, her son-mate Pulin'cha of the third birthing approached her, flicking his clypeal tubercle in homage. 'Mother-wife,' he began, turning a profile towards her, so she might see more of him, 'the brood needs you. They are starving in the host-ear, since the night of the deep-washing cleansed all the wax-food away. Unless we bring them more cast-off moulting skins, and frass, they will starve.'. Pulin'dra sighed, feeling the pressure beginning to build between her pronotum and mesopleuron, as it had been wont to do, these last days since the poison bath had taken nearly half her spawn.
Suddenly she turned to face her son, 'Pulin'cha, Pasteurella pestis' she cursed, 'Have you drunk from a new host? Have you supped upon the blood of another?' Her three piercing stylets vibrated with anger, 'If you jeopardize our clan by your wanderings, we will force you to jump to the mirrors!'
Flicking her cigarette contemptuously and tossing her thick mane of hair,
Thyla adjusted the straps of her halter top and
barked with her trademark raucous, sneering laughter -
laughter known to have unmanned many a suitor.
She looked around and saw that no one was paying much attention to her.
Thyla grew angry and walked up to the first man she saw.
He was short, bald, and overweight. "This is gonna be fun,' she thought.
She grabbed his shiny head and rubbed it against her ample bosom.
The man squirmed from the lack of oxygen.
Thyla kept him there until finally, he stoppped moving.
She unhanded him and he fell to the floor dead.
Thyla laughed and grabbed another victim.
He too was smothered in her breasts of terror.
Thyla was known for knocking 'em dead, but this was ridiculous.
Slowly, achingly, inexorably, the sun's tendrils crept tentatively over the yawning city with pussy-footed stealth.
Roger Rodrieguez shifted his HovR into seventh gear as he flew vertical
around the nearby skyscraper, causing the glass and steel fortress to
vibrate under the stress of his transport's nullfield. A red light flashed
on and a warning beep sounded.Mary's eyes opened wide as she stared blankly at the crack in the ceiling. Three nights in a row, the same dream.... something always keeping her from getting to the hop with Stan... She reached for a cigarette to only find an empty pack which she crumbled in her hand and tossed against the wall. She recollected her thoughts, threw on some lipstick and was out the door. The sound of her boots clicking as she walked echoed down the empty hallway.
She fumbled for her car keys as she nearly stumbled over what appeared to be a rather odd-looking trinket..perhaps a carnival novelty from days gone by. Mary knelt down to pick up the rather tarnished trinket. It was a clown keychain, perhaps from the early fifties..the blues reds and yellows so faded it made the clown's expression almost look cynical. "Why I'll name you Clarence", she thought to herself, and she threw her newfound Clarence in her purse as she continued on down the hallway.
As Mary left the building, she couldn't help but to notice a rather large man peering at her from across the street. She didn't bother to give it a second thought or a second glance. The sun was reflecting off her red hair and she brushed it aside with her hand.
This man had been watching Mary for the past week. He knew her basic schedule which did not consist of too much more than going out for cigarettes, alcohol and cat food. He had seen who went in and out of her place, and how long they had been there. What this man did not know was that Mary had just acquired a new friend. A friend she calls Clarence.
Mary returned to her apartment, cigarettes,having been the object of her most recent endeavour. She couldn't help but notice a rather odd smell that seemed to be lingering around the room. She laughed to herself "I must be going nuts...I'm sure I smell cotton candy"..as she laughed, she didn't realize..that someone else was laughing with her..someone named Clarence...
"WHAM WHAM WHAM" , the whole wall shook, who the hell was banging on the door? Mary ran to the door, threw it open and there stood the man. "I am Stan - I am here to take you away". "Take me away, take me away from what?", said Mary. "What the hell are you talking about and why were you banging on my door? ARE YOU CRAZY"... He pushed himself in through the door, his hand over her mouth. Mary, kicking, hysterically trying to push this man away... "Listen to me", he said - "You are in danger"... the scent of cotton candy filled the room, filling every inch of the room...the smell of popcorn oozing out from every corner what was happening..circus music louder and louder...her head was spinning. ."WHAT WAS HAPPENING"...then it all stopped all stopped..the scent of popcorn ..the cotton candy...Alex.."What is going on"...she reached for her purse.. scrambling..dumping out the contents..it was gone..Clarence was gone.... Mary reached for her cigarettes..only to find an empty pack...
The End
"With one swift dive, Joel cut the water like a knife through butter, or a spoon through jello. That is in a squishy, wiggly sort of way, for at 650 lbs. Joel was now a squishy, sort of wiggly guy. "
- excerpt from JOEL'S STORY
Thirteen years ago, Joel Inflatter was a trim 180 lbs. when he started Weight Reducers, a wildly sucessful dieting company that today grosses over $230 million annually. As the company grew fat with profit, so did Joel. The good life, combined with enough money to attract the ladies regardless of what he looked like, soon inflated his ego and waistline beyond recognition. Overcoming the pain of going though several wives and wardrobes, he amassed an empire the likes of which America had never seen. This is JOEL'S STORY - the tale of how he rose to power and became a bigweight in the dieting industry and its tragic effects on his personal life.
"JOEL'S STORY is a blockbuster tale of one man do dared to be larger than life. Highly recommended."
-Daily Tampa Review
"A wonderfully uplifting story about the triumph of the human spirit. Reading JOEL'S STORY made me laugh and cry at the same time."
-Hilda Hugger, author of THE LIFE AND TIMES OF ROSANNE BARR
As Alpha-Beta twelve was carted to the recycler, he couldn't help but think
of all the people he had touched with his jaunt in the world of emotion. If
he had had tear ducts he would have cried, but his programmers had not
reckoned on his acheiving the level of awareness that he had.
To love! That was his dream, and he felt the anguish of lost love as the grinding, chrushing manipulators were brought closer to his mettallic body. He found himself speculating as to why he had come to this, why him out of all the other robots at Factory 12-Beta on Gaeledaes 12-Delta-Gamma-47 had gained the power to love - what a blessing, and what a curse! He felt like Asskin when he was burned by the Gaandelians on Hamfrom-12-Oskleese, dying for his beloved Raaanb, but because he has been of the Raalx and she of the Graaamz, their love was forbidden.
Alpha-Beta's foot entered the machine, but because it was constructed of metal, he felt no pain. He had never felt pain, but for the pain of a broken heart. The factory ForeBeing, Alidia, a human, had caught his eye once during a late shift. Her lovely, Detalian Red hair glowed flourescent orange in the light of the fusion coils. In fact, it had been at this very part of the factory that he had proposed to her. It had been a warm night, and the thirty-seven moons reflected the light of the binary suns with exquisite beauty, almost as beautiful as the drip of cooling iron from the sides of the melting vat. Oh, how he had loved her.
Now the gears of the Destroyer ground his chest, and what would have been his heart, had he been human. Though it was not there, he felt the pain. Oh the pain of a broken heart! That night, Alidia looked deep into his chromium eyes, and told him that, though she felt a desire deeper than the seas of GGS-Alpha-4, she could never marry him because she would lose her job, her apartment, and most probably her life for crossing the barriers between man and machine.
Now the grinders had reached his head, and Alpha finally surrendered himself to the death he was facing, hoping that he and his love would be reunited in the silicon chips of heaven. As his eyes were extracted for reusal, the recycler scanners picked up unexplained moisture dripping from the optical sockets.
A reader, Nancy Harby, comments 5/4:
This is a complete opus, rather than any kind of beginning. It is
complete unto itself, with both internal and external conflict, rising
action, climax and resolution. Go Bud!