Thursday, December 03, 2009
Between the devil and the deep blue sea
by Unknown 1:03 PM
A violent jarring awoke Rosie. She was in total darkness. She used her hands to feel about her, noting the texture of everything she touched. A velvet-like material surrounded her, it was actually quite pleasant to the touch. And she felt it - all over her naked body? How had she gotten here? And why the hell was she naked? The questions ran through her mind like wildfire. She also noted that she while she could not see anything except complete blackness, Rosie and her velvety perch was actually some sort of conveyance - she was moving! She felt the energy of inertia coursing through her body and - what was this? As she explored the interior of her transport further, she noticed places that were hard and smooth, like dried reeds, thrusting through the velvet in some places. Strange. It was all so strange. What was she doing here, she wondered again.
It came to her as fast as the darkness began to turn to light. She was dead! She had gone in for an operation. She had been administered anesthesia . . . she remembered people shouting, lights flashing, machines screeching . . . and then here. Moving through . . . wherever she was!
The light became brighter and brighter, but revelaing nothing about her. She knew through the locomotion vehicle that the spped at which she was traveling was increasing exponentially by the minute. And then she saw it! A blue tunnel ahead in the distance! It began to get rather clammy. She hit the tunnel - and was surrounded by water! She struggled to keep her breath as she started to swim upward. She swam and swam . . . and swam some more. Just when she thought her lungs would burst - she broke the surface. She could make out a world around her. She spied the shore and swam for it. As she made her way, she heard something behind her break the surface. It was her carriage? What was that? A giant hand-basket?
She pulled herself to the beach and lay there for a few moments, catching her breath. When she finally found the strength to rise and walk, Rosie strode inland for a few hundred feet, noting her surroundings. Volcanic rock and sand. She looked forward and saw a tall man with long, dark hair, standing on a promontory.
"Welcome to hell.", he said.
by ArchHallJr 12:33 PM
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Sometimes, no matter what you do...
by Fred 8:01 AM
Friday, May 02, 2008
The ground is hard out here, you can't get no sleep at all, and a man could get lost in the sky sometimes. If you start gazing you better hoof it up the block and see if the barman can't toss you a beer for a buck, 'cuz you're almost too late then. If you start thinking hard about anything at all, the philosophers get all over you like fleas on a dog, like children on a sled, like clouds on a rainy day, get my drift.
Don't draw their attention or you're in the grave already. Keep a foot free and your badge on your chest, you want this to end bloodless. See that man with a pistol, he don't care none for you or what you want out of today and he'll see to it you get nothin he don't set you up for. Cry Havok! Indeed! Totaled bodyshop wrecks piled off his urchin-breath kid, calling for milk and sucking on stones can't stop the flood, don't know what makes you think you can.
Keep it clean, keep it careful says the Activity Monitor, Congrats on your recent answers to our quizzes and surveys, next time answer 'A' more often or you'll get This! Buzzsaws and Chaingangs hang on the walls and careen carefully around the wainscoting, frozen mid-stride in ways that must make you want Shooters Poppers and Zappers. Don't try it, she says with her eyes even as she beckons you upstairs. Don't go, she'll kill you alive and make boots from your face. Oh, child, you're so far out of your league you thinks you got it made. Go back home and beat on fifth graders, they're so much more your speed.
We don't need you here and we sure don't want you none. Chime it, Freddy, this one's done, it's over and he don't have nothing else we can extract. Call it, toss it and tag him before he starts to stink up the joint or it'll be a long wait til the next one.
by MisterNihil 2:57 PM
Feebs just like Flime
by MisterNihil 2:47 PM
Monday, April 21, 2008
Whistle and Spit
by MisterNihil 11:49 PM
But the one that you hit, that's what comes next. But then you spend forty minutes or an hour on the internet looking up what the hell comes after that and after that, and you get bogged down in the Unusual Mrs Spitz which doesn't help you at all, she says, Was you in a play perhaps, a pageant, huh? and that sends you spiraling into the waters of their new stuff, little snips and snails of bigger things and other sounds ringing through the ugly steel pipes of the internets, and you ask yourself again if maybe The Stickmen and Bucket aren't touring again, and then you sort of forget why you were going online in the first place, and it turns out to be because you were going to write a thing for a blog, but what? What blog? Gah! The madness is tensing!
by MisterNihil 11:50 AM
Friday, April 18, 2008
Aside from the improvement, nobody will know the difference.
by MisterNihil 9:19 AM
- Check in for today's topic, or offer one on your appointed day.
- Log into Blogger.
- Once the edit window loads, start the clock.
- Write for ten minutes. Then, stop.
- Select the text, press Ctrl+C to capture it, then publish the post.
- In the unlikely event that Blogger consumes your post, thank your lucky stars (and Sharon) that you copied it onto your clipboard. You're welcome.
Copyright 2005 Sharon Cichelli, Mary Ann Borer, Martha Cichelli, Blythe Christopher, Fred Coppersmith, Faith Drewry, Dan Gabbett, Ben Gibbs, Jonathan Leistiko, Josh Martinez, David Menendez, Christy Roy, Shawn Sharp, Bryan Storti, Remi Treuer, Margaret Whaley, Glen Williams, John Williams, Erik Wilson