Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Stupid weather...


It looked like rain. The clouds were churning quickly in the sky like the gods’ fat, angry cooks stirring up the earth for a human-soup, it looked like. Gary wondered if he ought to be building an ark. The sky rumbled and the rain finally came down in globular drops, hissing and fizzing as each drop encountered a surface. Gary ducked under the metal awning of the Five and Dime, wondering if or when the acid rain would be finished, and the sun would protect them once more. He hated the acid rain, and the casualties it brought. 

Monday, May 30, 2011

A higher intelligence...

So, allegidly there were no dinosaurs. Well, I mean of course there were dinosaurs. I mean, we have dinosaur bones, right? But they were dinosaurs, but not, like, the waywe think about dinosaurs, do
ya see? They were like super dinosaurs. Dinosaurs are always super, I know. What I mean is smart. Superdydooperdy smart. Like, building space ships and getting the hell off this crappy planet before the meteors hit and wrecked the place up and plunged everything into thousands of years of ice age and crap. Seriously. They got in their gynormous ships and got the hell outta here.

Sunday, May 29, 2011


A cyclone formed in the dish beneath the microscope. Jenya changed magnification twice as the tiny system took shape and swirled and moved across the nutrient-rich mixture on the bottom of the dish. It tore squiggly grooves into the surface, destroying tiny colonies in its wake. It was terribly interesting; in fact, it was the second such system she had observed forming since this experiment had begun several weeks ago. There had been a 75 few meteorological events worth noting, including high winds and snow, but she found the twisters to be the most interesting. Even though they killed tons of colonists.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

At least this one smelled like learning...


The library smelt of vanilla and leather, with just a hint of mold. Which was better than the last one she’d been in; that one had been drenched in the distinct odor of decaying jellyfish and crude oil. Vanilla and leather were MUCH preferable. The mold was probably an issue of some kind, but she was so excited just to be there, in that room with the great works of the humans, that she let the smell of ripe bacterium drift over her nostrils and away. This place was too scared to care too highly for the tiny, underpowering stench. 

Friday, May 27, 2011

It had given them other things too...


Often, new human travelers to space made jokes that The Number was forty-two. Xeni understood why; forty-two was a number of great power in the literature of Earth. But The Number, the one so reveared by The People of the Many Planets was not, in fact, forty-two. Granted, it was a number that The People had gotten from Earth, hundreds of years ago, in their travels. It was a number so powerful that the quad-dimentional humans couldn't even fathom it. It wasn't their fault, though. The Number was fifty-seven. The number given to them by The Great Ketchup.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

She also would like a means of escape...


Just as the door closed and locked behind her, Jane heard the guard chuckle. She was glad this was all so very amusing to the illiterate, green, slime-ridden imperial grunt.

In fact, she hoped he died here, in this putrid, dank outpost on the edge of nowhere. And while she was spending time wishing ill upon others, she hoped he never got a descent night's sleep ever again, that his tongue swelled too much to  talk, and that his pecker fell off at the next most inconvenient opportunity.

She looked around the dungeon and sniffed. She'd been in better.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

They later argued about breakfast...


Claudine tore the map in half. "There. I have just ended all present and future boarder disputes. Emmire, you are now lord and master of the western portion. Gandorut, you are lord of the east. And if you so much as argue about where the jagged edge of the paper falls in regard to your own territory, I will simply immolate you where you stand, and consume your lands in a fiery inferno that will purge all life from the earth." She smiled, spreading her hands on the desk and leaning toward them. "Have I made myself abundantly clear, gentlemen?"

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Time travel was tricky business. Yes, yes there was the butterfly effect, and temporal parodoxes and such, but wardrobe management was a right out bitch. A real, Mega massive headache and logistical nightmare. Not for my partner, mind you. That's always how it works for men, doesn't it? They slap on some marginally fashionable suit and they can slip into dozens of centuries and cultures. What do I get? Attempting to blend in with wardrobe filled to the bursting with enormous, uncomfortable clothing inappropriate for field work, or binding my too full breasts and claiming to be an eunic.

Monday, May 23, 2011


There were five portals within the cathedral of the cave to choose from, each being darker, scarier and more mysterious than the last. Well, except for the final portal set into the smooth, wet rocks. A strange black light emitted from the opening and a murmured hum of unintelligible lyrics and the thump of repetitive music. I thought about it for a few moments, and the possibilities of what could be beyond the murky pool of the dimensional doorway. It could range from a human rave, or a Martian funeral. I turned away. It could also be clowns. I shuddered.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

But they had money to hire an expert...


“I wouldn’t say I’m ‘just’ standing around here,” said the muscle man, shifting the load upon his shoulders.
The efficiency expert standing behind him judging his worthiness to keep his job during these cutbacks arched a shaped eyebrow. “And what exactly is it that you do here, Mister…”
The man glowered, not bothering to fill in the blanks. He  shrugged.  “If it isn’t obvious to you, then you aren’t qualified to judge if I’m redundant.  Or maybe they can replace me with a minimum wage lackey willing to support the heavens.”
She had no response, so Atlas returned to work.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Self-promotion was a tricky business...


There were only four types of people, as far as Ernie was concerned: those who could pay for his services, those who could not pay for his services, those who did not know about his services (yet), and those who mistakenly thought that they didn’t need his services. That was it. The world was filled with consumers who spent money on everything from art made from gum wrappers to assassins. And if someone was going to hire an assassin, why not Ernie? He was extremely good at killing people, and whether they’d admit it or not, everyone wanted SOMEBODY dead.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Selective hearing loss was no laughing matter...


“Aren’t you gunna do something about that,” the weapons controller asked me.

I looked up from the navigation console, and the course I was attempting to plot, and it took a second before I noticed the siren, pulsing its annoying alert tones loud enough for the entire ship to hear.

 “Oh yeah. I guess I should.” Deleting previous navigational commands, I informed the ship that we needed to take immediate evasive manuvers to avoid the  wormhole that had suddenly appeared within our solar system. “Sorry, been on these ships a long time. I can’t actually hear the alarms any more.”

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Not so much as a fortune in a cookie...


Don’t read the words, they said. I wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly. But I was told don’t read the words—ANY words…or THE ONES can get into your head, and find you. Any words. Like… anywhere. Seriously. This wasn’t… don’t read a book. I mean, I can do that. I wasn’t a big reader anyway. Or don’t read stupid crap on the internet. But don’t read anything at all. Not even the sign for McDonalds suggesting you stop in for a Big Mac today. Or “The Ones” would know where you were. And would come for you. I guess.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

They also made bowls of despair for the more adventurous...


Heating times may vary by microwave oven, but most Mugs of Joy® can be warmed in the microwave in a matter of minutes! Simply peal back the protective seal of pretentious bullshit part way to vent, place in the microwave on a napkin, plate or other surface capable of catching accidental spillage of sadness. Microwave on medium high, or your microwave’s reheat setting for two minutes and fifteen seconds, or until the Joy starts to sizzle. Listen for the sizzling sound, and do not allow the Joy to overheat; Mugs of Joy® turn bitter if left unattended for too long.

Monday, May 16, 2011

He was very dirty...


Melvin had to confess to being mischievous. He liked climbing under the sofa, to search for cat toys. He hid in the closets at nap time, so that Mother had to search for him. Sometimes he would throw himself into mud puddles, or the dog’s bed, so that he’d need to be cleaned. Oh and Mother was a neat-freak. She always cleaned him. But Melvin adored taking rides in the washer and dryer. It smelled like lilies and dryer sheets. It was a water ride followed by a sauna. What more could a stuffed bear ask for out of life?

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Gift shops were all the same...


Cella got one of those lollypops that they sold in the museum gift shop; the kind her mother really didn’t want her to buy—the one with the ikky critter in the middle.. They had forty different kinds of candy to choose from. Edible necklaces, and hard candy rings. Shredded bubblegum and those wafer saucers with candy in the middle. They even had those sugary buttons that Cella’s mom had been crazy about in her own youth. She had no idea why had child to get one of those rectangular sour lolly with the squishy and obscene human inside it.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Though there was less blood in the streets...


Sadly, the neighborhood smelt like the early 90s. Not so much cheap aftershave and Teen Spirit a much as cheap beer, piss, human sweat, and sour, rotten garbage water. Other than that, it was…

Oh, who the hell was Lim trying to fool? The whole neighborhood was horrible. The sidewalks were broken, the storefronts were fading and barred over, letters missing from their neon signs. It might as well have been 1993, for all the good it did. Lem had hated the 90s. Almost as much as 1790s Paris. Suddenly Lem desperately just wanted to eat someone, and go home.

Friday, May 13, 2011

Not an unsual sight...


The holidays were upon them again. The old run-down houses in the student part of town were, for the most part, quiet and dark. The majority of the college students had gone home for Thanksgiving, and wouldn’t be back for another four days. A dry snow drifted to the broken cement unassumingly, sliding across the street as the wind blew. The neighborhood was—dare it be said—peaceful. Well, except for the sofa on fire in the middle of the street. But even that had its own sort of comforting rhythm about it as the flames crackled in the cold air.

Thursday, May 12, 2011

Friday nights were all the same...


Sel leapt over the short wall in the middle of campus and headed toward the chemistry building at a full run after his target. Or as close to one as someone carrying a vampire hunting kit, werewolf –wrangling equipment, and enough holy water and sage to irritate a ghost back into the netherworld. It was all unnecessary—he only needed what was sliding around his front coat pocket.

“You’ve got two choices. You can go back to being dead quietly,” he told the zombie. “Or….” He grinned, and shot it in the head, never giving it a fighting chance.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

They'd have a festival next year...


Kingdom Thirty-Two sat on the far side of the Lake of Woes, and just beyond the Forest of Indiscretions. It was small, by kingdom standards. It was roughly half the size of Kingdom Twenty-Seven, but it did have lovely sunsets and a killer view of Kingdom Twelve’s deadly (but beautiful) Mountains of Despair. It also had easy access to the River Wild, which fed into the Bottomless Sea. This meant that Kingdom Thirty-Two had a prime view of the mermaids, as they swam upstream toward Kingdom Eleven’s Mermaid Alcove (a huge and profitable tourist trap), to spawn before they died.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Everything was better...


Jenny was actually at the point in the sleep deprivation where she’d moved well past feeling ill, and her whole body trembling. All of that had passed in day two. She’d burnt herself twice with a soldering iron and had accidently stabbed herself with a screwdriver, but she was better now. The trembling and nausea were gone, and other than tired, bleary eyes that were dry and a tad itchy, she felt good. It also helped that she was getting a lovely back massage from the purple and green polka dotted elephant she’d been hallucinating for the last two hours.

Monday, May 9, 2011

The day will come...


Under the canopy of leaves, under the thorny vines strangling the trees, under the bramble and brush and thicket and undergrowth, under the dried leaves, under the mushy compost, under the thick grey clay on the bank of the slow-moving creek with the slime-covered rocks, it is buried. It is buried, and it waits. It waits for its rising, and yes that day will come. The day of its rising was foretold. What has been foretold always comes to pass, that is why it is foretold—so that we may recognize the signs. It will rise and it will walk.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

It was never like the movies...


It might not have been the wisest thing to do, but punching the vampire in the face was the only thing she could think of. Grace’s clenched fist crushed into the ungiving cheekbone of the creature of the night, a painful shock traveling up her arm and back down to her knuckles, and she was fairly certain something was broken. If not broken—at least horribly sprained. But the vampire let go of her. Not entirely—but he loosened his grip, he was so startled by her brazenness. Grace twisted hard, like they taught in self defense classes, and ran.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

They came so far for so little...


It spoke. Its voice was only noise to human ears; a rubbery grinding sound like under-inflated tires on an old gravel road. Its long, mechanical limbs raised and lifted as it moved, possibly in some gesticulation, wondering what the tiny, squishy figures were doing, intruding in its lair. The humans spoke to it; explained that they were peaceful explorer from a planet called Earth, long dead and far away. The humans offered it a hand in friendship, and the creature backed away, insulted that the ugly bio-creatures would whip out such an obscene appendage, right there in the throne room.

Friday, May 6, 2011

It also smelled of aged fish...


Els Criboth Kinnten.  That was what was carved over the tiny wooden door that blended nearly-perfectly into the bark of the twisted oak tree.

You are not welcome here.  That was the rough translation.

The minuscule brass doorknob had a twisted symbol on it  meant to ward off trespassers, friends and unwanted family members. Plingoth slid his key into the lock with satisfaction. A Crelleth’s home was where he hung his hat, and he hung his hat in a place too inhospitable for anyone to want to visit there. It was as it should be. That’s all he asked for

Thursday, May 5, 2011

They never figure it out on their own...


The lack of productivity wasn’t Aubrey fault; the Muse had left her. Quite abruptly, too. Just after dinner. She’d been rinsing her plate, when the Muse silently got up and left. For a moment, she wasn’t even aware of the Muse’s absence, until she looked over at the table, and saw the half-eaten pie and coffee sitting there, and the Muse nowhere to be found.

She threw her sponge into the sink and called after the Muse. “Hey! What’s going on?”

“If I have to explain it, you’ll never understand!” The front door slammed, and Aubrey was alone.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

It was odd...


Sherman sniffed the air. “It smells like… cupcakes.”

Ellen took in a deep breath, concentrating on everything around her. “It does. Quite a bit.” She looked around for any sign of cream frosting and vanilla, but there were no man-mad confections anywhere near them. She inhaled again, slower this time. “In fact, I can’t smell anything else.”

Nodding, Sherman looked around them. Usually the rain forest floor smelled of wet wood and dung and exotic animals and waxy, thick leaves. And right now, it smelled like… cupcakes. “I think we’d do well to leave this place.”

Ellen followed after him.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

A heart's desire...


She thunked the severed robot head on the floor. It clanged against the marble of the great hall with a metallic dink that echoed of the pillars and arches. Sparks crackled at the ends of the crinkled wires protruding from the neck like baby’s breath and a bride’s bouquet.

“This.” The single word was breathy from her labor. “This is what you asked me to kill, and it is done.”

The man who sat upon the gilded throne at the center of the great hall nodded. “And so it will be, that you shall be awarded according to your wish.”