

Dani's Shorts 2

(A collection of short stories based on the elements from The Iron Writer Challenge)

Volume 2

by

Dani J Caile

Smashwords Edition

PUBLISHED BY:

Dani J Caile on Smashwords

ISBN: 9781310891472

Dani's Shorts 2

Copyright © 2014 by Dani J Caile

Smashwords License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Blogs & Websites

<http://danijcaile.blogspot.hu/>

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © Dani J Caile 2014

### Table of Contents

Preface / Acknowledgement

27 - Loser

28 - The Troubles

29 - The Hunchback of Little Piddly Town

30 - Not a usual Saturday

31 - The curse

32 - The Big 'No-no'

Autumn Equinox Open Elimination Round - Reynold's last laugh

Autumn Equinox Final - Miley Cyrus?

33 - Grandpa

34 - Got him back

Grudge Match 1 - 60 seconds

35 - Fat bird

36 - Two's a crowd, three's company

37 - Deranged

38 - A Complete Git

39 - Like father...

40 (Grudge 2) - The Hungry Shark

41 - Strange Awakening

42 (Grudge 3) - Damn Injun

43 - 2456 - A Space Pomposity

44 - The trouble with twins

45 - Winter Equinox Open Elimination Round - Selfish Little Monkeys

46 - So close

47 - Winter Equinox Open Final- Marital Strife

48 - A Eulogy for Suzie Wobblebottom?

49 - Muppet Respect

49 - One in a Million (the story entered on TIW)

50 - Never again

51 (Grudge 4) - Tunktan eh Lamar

Only for my loval smiploff (nonsense poetry)

52 - Mon 'anime'

Weekend Quickie 1 - Bradán, the moaning sod

Weekend Quickie 2 - Lunch with Austen

Weekend Quickie 3 - Three or more

Weekend Quickie 4 - Two-timing bitch

Weekend Quickie 5 - Samples needed

Weekend Quickie 6 - We're going to die

Weekend Quickie 7 - Grandma's favourite nephew

Weekend Quickie 8 - Dog in Snow

Weekend Quickie 9 - Lifesaver

Weekend Quickie 10 - Here comes the choo-choo train

Weekend Quickie 11 - Just what did little Tim do?

Weekend Quickie 12 - Memories

Weekend Quickie 13 - Revisited

12 Days of Christmas (Weekend Quickie Special)

Weekend Quickie 16 - Nicked in time

Weekend Quickie 17 - For Love

Weekend Quickie 18 - Exquisite pain

Weekend Quickie 19 - Cowboy Frolics

Weekend Quickie 20 - Naughty Mrs. Mibbley

Weekend Quickie 21 - The Power of Love

Weekend Quickie 22 - The urge to tell

Weekend Quickie 23 - Artistic Ideal

Killing Brian - Cannibalising Brian (excerpt from 'How to')

Relay Event T1 (Part 10)

Relay Event T2 (Part 1) - 'The Pink Pineapple'

List of elements for Challenges 27-52 (including Grudge Matches 1-4 and the Autumn & Winter Solstice Opens) and Weekend Quickies 1-23

Other work by Dani J Caile

Preface / Acknowledgement

Yes, it's Volume 2 of TIW shorts! Yet another collection of totally pointless exactly 500 and exactly 200 word nonsense to entertain you while doing whatever you do when reading. For myself, it was a long and exciting year in The Iron Writer. It has become a part of my life now, every week waiting for the next group of elements to hit the site and dwelling on the story which could link them all together in the style of my choice. It's thanks to this challenge that I can say I never suffer from writer's block - touch wood.

So what happened? There were 3 Opens, all of which I participated in due to my Challenge wins, narrowly missing winning the Autumn Open by 1 vote (348-349) but winning the Winter Open to get into the Annual Final, Grudge matches - I won Grudge 3, a mixture of facebook TIW chat and my thoughts on the USA and its indigenous peoples - and Weekend Quickies, a new 200 word Saturday free-for-all, including a '12 days of Christmas special' and a version of the end of 'The Road from Colonus' by EM Forster (WQ13) to name but one. I also wrote a quick 10 worder while discussing the explicit/implicit use of elements which includes all 4 in the challenge at the time - "He tutted as she stood there in a mini skirt." (Challenge 45).

So here are my own personal takes on the second 6 months of the Iron Writer Challenge, including Challenges, Weekend Quickies, Grudge Matches and Solstice Opens - plus an excerpt of 'How to' killing Brian (Cannibalising Brian) and a slice from the first ever Relays. I hope you enjoy these short snippets just as much as you enjoyed Volume 1.

Thanks again to Brian and all the other Iron Writers for making The Iron Writers phenomenon the success that it already is.

If you are 'up to the Challenge', then go to...

http://theironwriter.com/

27 - Loser

(Millennium Falcon, GI Joe Action figures, waffle iron, Slim Whitman)

I tried to ignore him.

"What's that then, sonny?"

"It's the Millennium Falcon."

He wasn't my father, only a long lost uncle who'd moved to Florida when my Dad was a kid. A nobody. Now this loser had come back with his new wife, incidentally from his old homeland, and was staying for a few weeks at ours. They'd left Florida because she was 'homesick'. Anyone could see that she wanted to spend his hard-earned dollars in a place where they meant something.

"It looks like a UFO."

"Yes, it's a spaceship used by Hans Solo in 'Star Wars'."

"Oh yes, really?"

He didn't have a clue. Maybe he'd lived in the swamps of Florida.

"Nice decals. Now, let's have a look here...any GI Joes?"

"GI what? Oh, the movie. It's okay, but I prefer proper sci-fi."

"Movie?"

Didn't go to the cinema, either. Definitely the swamps.

Mum called us down and we sat with the others for the usual breakfast gathering, now with our two new guests. My little sister was already halfway through her Cheerios. This loser uncle looked down at his plate.

"Honey, what's this?"

"It's toast, we usually eat toast for breakfast."

He picked them up and studied them, slowly putting them back on the plate.

"Do you have any waffles?"

"Waffles? You'd like waffles? Sorry, we once had a waffle iron but it didn't last long and no one really liked them, anyway."

"No waffles? Not even shop-bought?"

"No, sorry. Would you like me to make you some pancakes? Normally, I only make them on Shrove Tuesday but seeing as..."

"No, no, 'toast' will suffice, thank you. Don't need to trouble yourself."

You already did, loser.

After a quiet breakfast, broken by the crunching of dry cold toast, he moved into the living room. Mum motioned me to keep him company while the wife followed her into the kitchen. Man of the house. When I sat down on the sofa he was already searching through my Dad's old vinyl collection, blowing dust off covers and chuckling to himself.

"No Slim Whitman, I see."

"Slim who?"

"Slim Whitman. Genius. Bigger than Elvis in his day."

"Elvis?"

Who were these people? He put the last vinyl back on the shelf with a shake of his head and sat opposite me in the chair, my Dad's chair. He surprised me by taking out an iPod.

"Here, listen."

Did I have to? Taking the headphones from him, I reluctantly put them on. I heard scratches, this was an old recording, but recognised it instantly, the haunting sound of a man...yodelling.

"Hey! That's...that's..!"

"Did you like it?"

"That's the music they used to kill the Martians in 'Mars Attacks!'!"

"Mars a what?"

"Mars Attacks, the movie! I love that movie, it's so funny! They use this music to explode the Martian's brains!"

"Are you sure a young boy like you should be watching movies like that?"

This guy had just gone up a notch. Perhaps he wasn't such a loser.

28 - The Troubles

(goat powered washing machine, petri dish, fried green tomatoes, menacing stranger)

"George?"

"Mandy?"

She couldn't believe what she saw.

"Is...is that really you?"

She moved a step closer.

"I...yes. How...?"

"George!"

She ran to him and desperately squeezed him, crushing his shoulders in a warm embrace.

"Of all the people..."

"I can't believe it."

They stood there, in the empty, desolute destruction around them. What was once a thriving town was now in ruins.

"I...come, come in."

George beckoned her into his abode, a hidden warren among the derelict buildings and rubble.

"This is just incredible...how did you...I...?"

"Ah, the same old Mandy."

She wished that was true. Tired and worn from her travels, just as all the survivors from the Troubles. Of all people to find out here...

"Oh, George, it's been..."

"A long time. Sit, please."

George pulled out some wooden fruit boxes and they sat down.

"Nice place."

"It's a hole in the ground."

They laughed, perhaps for the first time in months.

"At least you have a place, I've been..."

She broke down and tears flowed down her face.

"That's okay, don't worry. You're safe now, really."

Wiping away the tears, Mandy looked around, spotting the shower, the bed, the assortment of clothes, the larder, and what looked like a washing machine connected to a conveyor belt.

"What is that?"

"My washing machine. No electricity, of course, so 'man-powered'. I rigged it up for Bert..."

"Bert? Who's Bert?"

She looked around suspiciously, eyeing up every dark corner.

"Bert. He used to drive this thing. I had to make some use of him, seeing as he wasn't ever going to give me any milk."

"Milk?"

"Bert. The goat."

"So, this is a goat powered washing machine?"

"Ha! It's now a George powered washing machine. Bert died."

"I'm sorry."

"Made a good stew, though."

The mention of food made Mandy's stomach rumble out loud.

"Do you have any food?"

"Oh, sorry, yeah, of course. Well, I haven't got much but...how about some fried green tomatoes?"

"Wow, that sounds scrumptious!"

George stood up to prepare some food but sat back down.

"Ah, almost forgot, just have to do the old test, you know?"

"Sorry?"

"The test."

She watched George pick up a petri dish filled with a gellified solution and get ready to take a sample from the inside of her mouth. It was the only way to know whether anyone was a carrier, a threat.

"What? Test me? I'm not some 'menacing stranger' you don't know. I'm Mandy, your old flame from college."

He looked into her face and she smiled back at him, making him place the petri dish back on the table.

"Yeah, guess you're right. Funny how people forget, how people change."

They looked into each other's eyes.

"Come here."

She put her arms around him and held him tight.

"Oh, Mandy, it's been so difficult, so horrible."

"Don't worry, it'll be all right soon."

Her eyes turned to blood red as she opened her mouth wide to pierce his neck with her long white fangs.

29 - The Hunchback of Little Piddly Town

(Nummo the alien, banana slippers, a cricket ball, an Elementary School spelling bee)

Being a Nummo has its advantages, namely the remembering of all memories and experiences from past reincarnations and all the wisdom which comes with it. Unfortunately, mother nature has her little joke. Everything comes as a whole, there is a balance to all. I will remember this particular life for a long time to come.

"Banana feet! Get over at deep mid wicket! Go on! Get a move on!"

My damn parents. If it wasn't for them trying to integrate me into the normal group of local community children then no one would have seen that particular photo with me on my 8th birthday wearing a pair of banana slippers an elder relative had given. I did it to make her happy but now I lived to regret it. Ever since then, I've been a laughing stock. The nickname appeared the morning after the party in the school yard.

To say I hate school is an understatement. Going to school for the millionth time is hell for me, I remember everything from before, so of course I am the best student. As such, I am the brunt of abuse among this small collection of neanderthals. Whenever and wherever they have the chance.

As I'm the smartest kid in the place, I was sent off to the county elementary spelling competition and I became the champion spelling bee, though Latin would've been easier. I even got my picture in the local newspapers, a picture which was ridiculed and defacated upon by my peers in the changing rooms.

"Not there! Over there!"

It would also be easier if my fellow classmates actually knew the correct positioning of fielders in this wonderful game of cricket. Ugly over there has put me in deep square leg and not deep mid wicket as he so nicely requested some moments ago. Though this place is devoid of action, I may at least stay out of trouble.

"Hey! Banana feet! Go back! Back!"

It's best not to tell them they don't know the positions. They'd only beat me up later. Even with my immense knowledge of martial arts and defensive skills from around the world, they'd still be able to hurt me. The experience, the theory is all there, though the performance would leave a lot to be desired. As I've already mentioned, nature here is in balance, what you gain on one hand, you lose on another. I'm physically disabled...well, not bad enough to make me 'special', or get me sent to some special school or organisation which helps the disabled, but bad enough to make me different. Like the constant drool from the right side of my mouth, or the lazy right eye, or the club foot.

"Catch! Catch it!"

I see the cricket ball, that leather covered wooden ball, I'm trying to coordinate my hands with my mind's eye but it's not quite...the ball hits me straight in the middle of my forehead with a deafening tonk. Perhaps my next life will be fairer.

30 - Not a usual Saturday

(Pareidolia, jousting female knight, feather boa, bag of doorknobs)

Bert turned off the TV.

"What are you doing? Get off your arses! People are gathering out there!"

Bert noticed Roger the handyman hiding in the corner.

"Roger! What have I told you? I just saw those bags near the grandstand. Go and move them!"

"What? Those? What are we going to do with a bag of doorknobs?"

"I don't care! Just move them!"

Bert grabbed Johnny's hand before he switched the TV back on.

"Oh, Bert, I'm waiting for the football results."

"Look, Johnny, you've a tough day ahead of you."

Bert shoved the schedule into Johnny's hand. The others got ready while Johnny scanned down for his name.

"Eh? What is this? I can't read this properly, unless this guy is called 'Jane'.

Bert passed a pamphlet to him.

"Ha! This guy's got a feather boa around his neck! What is he, gay?"

"No, he's a woman."

Johnny choked on his gum, moving his sight between the pamphlet and the schedule.

"No! You've gotta be kidding! A woman! That's not right."

The others started sniggering amongst themselves.

"Apparently she's pretty good."

"No way, Bert! I'm not going up against a woman. You know we play for keeps."

"Look, we're a man short, I called the Southern Chapter and they know we're a rough bunch so they all said 'no', except her."

"What's wrong, Johnny? Scared of losing to a girl?"

They all laughed and left Johnny and Bert together.

"But..."

"No buts, Johnny. Get out there and do a show."

The others suddenly all rushed back in and looked busy.

"What...?"

Bert and Johnny watched as a drop dead gorgeous blonde strolled in.

"Who's Johnny?"

They all pointed to Johnny, staring in disbelief. She marched over to him.

"Nice to meet you."

Jane grabbed Johnny's face and gave him a long kiss. You could hear a pin drop on the grass.

"Eh...?"

"I always kiss my victims."

Everyone's jaws dropped as she went to leave the room.

"If I beat you..."

Jane turned around.

"...I want another."

She laughed and left.

In the end, Johnny found Jane to be all mouth, literally, and no trousers, knocking her off with a small tap of his lance. The problem was her feather boa, becoming entangled in his helmet as they passed. Jane hit the sand, closely followed by Johnny. Unfortunately, his horse meandered and he landed on some rubbish, which included the bag of doorknobs. Jane got up but Johnny didn't. Sensing a problem, some of the jousters, including Jane, ran to his aid and opened his visor.

"I can see butterflies in the clouds. They're so lovely."

Jane examined Johnny's pupils.

"I think the fall might've hurt him. He's suffering from Pareidolia."

"What are you, a doctor?"

"Well, yes, I am."

"Oh."

They struggled to pull him up and finally got him on his feet to applause from the crowd. He turned to Jane and pouted his lips.

"I think he's alright, you can let go of him now."

31 - The curse

(live Griffin, peanut butter and banana sandwich, ventriloquist, Delorean)

He pulled up in his car and the people queuing outside the venue were amazed at the sight of his door opening up. He heard them talking, it gave him a buzz, that showbiz buzz.

"Wow, it's just like that car in 'Back to the Future'."

"Yeah, cool. Who's that?"

And that's what always made him upset. Can't anyone read his license plate? VENT41L, standing for 'ventriloquist' or as near as dammit. And what was this dump? His manager said it was a classy and respected venue, one played by all the greats and high class performers. When? 1860? There were even gargoyles on the buttresses. He alarmed his Delorean and walked towards the stage door, noticing the whole buidling was in need of repair, with crumbling bricks and flaking paintwork.

"Hello, sir. May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm Arthur Pound, famous ventriloquist."

"Famous ventril...oh yes, you're the 'star' performer tonight."

The old man behind the desk turned his nose up and sighed.

"What's with this place? Don't know a good decorator?"

"Ooo, no sir, we couldn't do that to the 'Old Tavern Theatre'."

"No money?"

"No, we have some of that. It's the curse."

The old man crossed himself.

"The curse? Ha! What curse?"

"The curse. See those gargoyles?"

"Can't miss them, they're quite grotesque."

"Shhh! They might hear you!"

"What?"

"Legend has it that if anyone tampers with this building or degrades it in any way, then unforeseen circumstances happen. There was even mention way back in 1880 that when the owner tried to renovate the interior, one of them turned into a real live griffin and terrorised the local community for days."

"What rot!"

"Ooo, sir, I wouldn't...."

"Poppycock! What nonsense! Stop wasting my time and show me where my changing room is!"

"Second on the left, the one with the star hanging off the door."

"Thank you. And please send some refreshment to my room."

"Refreshment?"

"Yes."

"There's a drinks machine in the foyer."

"Foyer? Do you expect me to mix with the rabble?"

"Err..."

"I was thinking more of a snack or something. It was a long drive."

"Oh. I could make you a sandwich?"

"A sandwich? Okay, I guess that's fine."

It took him half an hour to clean the mirror in his changing room enough to be able to use it. He was also afraid to touch anything else in the room for fear of it collapsing. Everything was held together by an inch of dust.

Suddenly, the door flung open and a man dropped a plate onto his dresser, leaving as fast as he came. Arthir scrutinised the sandwich.

"Peanut butter and banana?"

Not his first choice. But he was hungry, so he scoffed it. Before he knew it, his teeth glued together. He checked the sandwich while trying to pry his teeth apart and saw it was like glue.

"You're on!"

Arthur grabbed his ventriloquist dummy and flew onto the stage, jaws stuck tight. He bombed that night. And the next.

32 - The Big 'No-no'

(centaur, megalomaniac, the oracle of all knowledge, abandoned outhouse)

As a kid, you always do what you shouldn't. You're not even aware of any limits. If told not to do something, that would be priority number one. That burning desire to find out why you shouldn't do always won you over: climbing the large vine hedge in front of the house and killing it, lighting a fire under the oldest tree in the driest summer on record and watching it burn, or even throwing bricks over a wall until someone screamed. We broke our word every week, we swore we would never again do something bad, but we did. Those were just some of the more memorable ones. But there was one which beat them all. The big 'no-no'. The neighbours.  
Across the road lived our neighbours in a nice little bungalow with a neat little front garden. They were the typical retired English couple. But they had something else, something which our eyes caught sight of every day. On a huge patch of land next to their cosy home they had a huge abandoned outhouse. They never went near it. We spent hours guessing just what exactly was in that building: treasure, gold, we came up with a whole variety of fantastical things, perhaps even a time-travelling or wormhole device to another time or world, a world of wizards and witches, orcs, centaurs and fairies. It took two weeks into the summer holiday for us to pluck up enough courage to go over and try to get in, once we'd agreed we'd do it.  
My brother was the first to try the high window hidden from our neighbour's view. It was open and I saw him disappear inside. A few moments later, he reappeared and beckoned me in, his eyes shiny and bright. With a feeling of intrepedation, and holding my nose as a strange damp odour came from within, I went in through the window. After some seconds, I acclimatised to the light and saw I was standing on stacks of paper and books, stacks so tall we would've been buried alive if they collapsed. We carefully climbed down and started looking through those stacks we could. It wasn't much of a collection, it didn't take us long to realise that we weren't going to find any 'oracle of all knowledge' let alone any treasure within the stacks, but it still didn't diminish the feeling that we had found something special, something secret and hidden from other eyes. As we searched, we began to babble and laugh like crazed men, meglomaniacs filled with power and greed, being feed by our newly-found discovery. Our voices grew louder and soon we were shouting and screaming like drunken fools celebrating some forgotten gain.

To our horror, the door suddenly flung open to reveal our irate neighbour, shouting profanities and moving towards us at great speed. We scrambled up the stacks and out of the window, running back across the road to safety.

The next week, at our neighbour's funeral, we kept quiet.

Autumn Equinox Open Elimination Round - Reynold's last laugh

(balloon animals, Lydia the tattooed lady, tontine Centre Court Wimbledon)

"Good weather for it? Sure is. No clouds, not like 2002. And that streaker, well...spoiled that match. Yeah, I'm a regular here, haven't missed one for...hang on, let me think...sixty-odd years? Yeah, sixty-five years. Hard to believe, huh? Well, believe it or not, it's true. Started back in '47 with the guys. Only me and Reynolds were here last year, though. But I got a letter from his granddaughter back in February saying he wouldn't be making it this time. I travelled across state and visited him at the hospital he was in before he passed away. Poor guy. Nothing left of the old Reynolds, just a sack of bones. No more jokes, no more gags, none of the old vigour and sparkle in his eyes.

He used to do the odd prank, yeah, well, nothing harmful, he just kept us all from going crazy. I remember when the fighting ended, we found ourselves at an old inn in Austria somewhere in the woods, our platoon from the 88th. There was a piano, an open hearth fire, then someone broke into the cellar and raided the wine and we had a whale of a time! It was Reynolds who made that night special, always there to bring our spirits up. It was him who did a show, making some animal shapes from balloons he found in the kitchen. He saw it at a USO show earlier, a performance by Johnny Ford or whoever. Anyways, the highlight was when he sang that Groucho Marx song, 'Lydia, the tattoo'ed lady' from 'At the Circus'. 'Course, he changed the last verse, adding some of us guys in it. He even sang the original Hitler line, it was a must. Oh, and that's where we found the Brunello, an 1891. Just so happens that Cicerello was a wine buff. He came up from that cellar like a man who'd found treasure. We wanted to open it right there and then but he fought us off, kept it with him, never let it out of his sight. He got shot by a farmer two days later. I put the wine in my pack.

Back in '47, we came here to Centre Court to watch Tom Brown at Wimbledon. You know, Brown won in straight sets, great match. We got tickets from the Major-General himself, as Stokes had saved the guy's favourite nephew's life just outside Anzio. We then decided to all get Debanture tickets and swore to meet every year, here at Centre Court. After the match, we made a tortine from the Brunello, the last one alive gets to drink it. We put it in a locker in the men's changing rooms and kept the key. If we couldn't get here, we'd send our regards or someone else in our place. Ain't missed a final yet. Ehh? This? What's this? It's a balloon dog. Now I know why the mother had a smile on his face. I'd kill him if he weren't dead already."

Autumn Equinox Final - Miley Cyrus?

(Sadomasochistic Machiavellinism, tatting shuttles, rickshaw, bagpipes)

I felt like a weekend dad doing the tourist route with my eldest beside me. But it was okay, I knew better, crammed into the back of a cut-off Polski rickshaw, whizzing through the sights of Budapest.

"Tell me, why are we doing this again?"

"Because I want to."

We bumped around in the backseat, my daughter busy with some weird kind of embroidery I'd never seen before.

"You could've asked for something else, like a tandem bicycle, a horse-drawn carriage, or even some of those 2-wheeled contraptions, a couple of Segways. There's even a motorboat..."

"Next time, Daddy."

"Great."

The way she was engrossed in her craftwork, we could've been anywhere. Watching a DVD at home, for example, my favourite pastime.

"What are you doing?"

"Double stitching."

"What are those things? Are they shuttles?"

"Yes, they're tatting shuttles. I'm making a lace necklace, see?"

She held up the half-finished article, quite intricate in design.

"Nice."

"I'll have it done soon."

"Wonderful."

Always give encouragement, that's what they say, but this embroidery was yet another hobby to add to the rest; swimming, Hiphop, Judo, and her favourite, music. At first, she wanted to play the bagpipes after seeing them in a movie, but as there were no bagpipe lessons in the whole damn country, and that we already owned a piano, we persuaded her to start with that. The main thing was, she got what we could give, and I gave her my English. That extra knowledge made her naturally hungry for more. Unfortunately, she wasn't too good at Maths or Science, but she showed talent in the Arts. Perhaps that was her direction. The lace necklace was coming along fine, better than her earlier attempts at knitting and crochet.

"So, you really like creating things, huh?"

"Yes, I want to create things when I grow up. I want to be just like Miley Cyrus."

If I had been drinking, I would've spat it out.

"What?"

"Miley Cyrus, I want to be like Miley Cyrus."

"Last time I checked I wasn't Billy Ray."

"Who?"

"Her father."

"Oh."

"Don't you mean Hanna Montana?"

"No, Daddy, I don't! I mean Miley."

"Oh, right."

I needed a little time to compute.

"Isn't she going through some kind of 'sadomasochistic Machiavellinism' at the moment?"

"What?"

"All that twerking douchebags, wreaking walls..."

"It's 'Wreaking Ball', Daddy. Get it right, please."

"She destroys walls with a ball in that video, naked, I might add. 'Making history'? A bit more like desperate to leave her teenage image behind, if you ask me."

"Sorry, Daddy, I don't understand."

The best defense from a bilingual child.

"She's not exactly a good role model."

"I like her music."

"Right, music. I did music once, you know, I was..."

"Daddy! Don't remini...remini..."

"Reminisce?"

"Don't reminisce in a rickshaw, Daddy!"

"Sorry. But Miley?"

"Look Daddy, I'm only following your example."

"Really?"

"Yes, I watch what you do and I do the opposite."

She unpicked a few stitches while suffering from the giggles.

33 - Grandpa

(Leviathan, any George Formby song, jar of bacon fat, necklace)

"Grandpa, what's that you're whistling?"

The old man put the newspaper he was using to dry the window down and sat on one of the lower rungs of the stepladder.

"Oh, it's just an old George Formby song from my youth...'when I'm cleaning windas'...ha, ha."

The boy sat down, recognising a typical reminiscence. A break from their chores.

"Oh, that brings back memories, that does."

"Of the time when you were on Broadway, Grandpa?"

"No, not then."

"When you accepted an Oscar for your rendition of 'Little White Bull'?"

"No, not then, either."

"Or the time when you brought Stalin's regime to a standstill with a freeze-dried Chinese chicken and a broken bicycle?"

The old man held the chain hanging around his neck.

"No, it was the time when I retrieved this from the depths of..."

"But you got that necklace from Grandma."

"Chain, it's a chain. Yes, I got this from your Grandma, but there was a moment when it was lost to all."

"When did you lose it, Grandpa?"

The boy made himself comfortable on the grass.

"Well, there was a time while in the Navy when..."

"You hate water, Grandpa."

"Are you going to interrupt me all the way through?"

"Sorry, Grandpa."

"Yes, well. It was a difficult and dangerous job onboard a destroyer in the Navy, what with enemy submarines and ships on the warpath, but I would've never believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

"What's that then, Grandpa?"

"The most terrifying creature you could ever imagine!"

"Even more terrifying than that cashier in the local corner shop, Grandpa?"

"Even more so, yes. I remember it now, I was assigned a most treacherous task of cleaning the windows..."

"Do they have windows on destroyers, Grandpa?"

"Of course they do, now, stop interrupting."

"Sorry, Grandpa."

"So, there I was, hanging from the port side in those turbulent waters of the Atlantic, cleaning windows and singing that very same song I was whistling just now, when out of the cold dark blue abyss leapt a...Leviathan!"

"A what, Grandpa?"

"A Leviathan, the largest, deadliest and most frightening of all sea monsters!"

"What happened, Grandpa?"

"The shock knocked me off my perch and I fell into the sea. As I was travelling in mid-air, this very necklace...chain slipped from my neck and entered the large teeth-infested mouth of the beast!"

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes! I watched as the Leviathan swam away nonchanlantly, with your Grandma's neck...chain."

"Oh, Grandpa! What did you do?"

"I did what any man would do, I called to a passing sailer walking up on deck. He wanted to throw me down a life-saver but I called him back, I needed a jar of bacon fat."

"Bacon fat? Whatever for, Grandpa?"

"The sea was freezing and I was blasted if I was going to let that good-for-nothing monster take my ne...chain away! The bacon fat would keep me warm on the long swim to catch it up!"

"But Grandpa, you can't swim...ouch!"

34 - Got him back

(Dressed herring, tuba, space station, phone booth)

I hate my uncle. That's why I did it. Well, he's not really my uncle, he's more of an old friend of my mother's. They do a lot of laughing when they're alone together. I don't like it, not one bit. When I was younger, he sold me what he said was part of that space station which came down all those years ago. Took it to school, I was so proud of it until one of the older guys told me it was part of a plastic tube they use for air-conditioning in offices. He'd seen some of them in the back of his Dad's van. Never heard the end of that one.

And then there was that time with the tuba. My mother had pushed me into the school band and the only instrument not taken was that. I never really got on with it, too big and heavy for me, but I was able to blow out a few notes, enough for the music teacher to give me a B at the end of term. My uncle got wind of it and thought it was a scream. I remember he got me out of bed at about 2 am in the morning, drove me and my tuba, with me still in pyjamas, into the centre of town. We parked up at one of the phone booths and he told me to play the 'Jaws' theme over the phone to the person he was going to call. He cracked up as I played, listening between the notes to the shouting on the other end. I was so sleepy and using all my energy to concentrate on the notes that I didn't pay any attention to the blue and red flashing lights behind me. He'd scarpered. Apparently he'd called the mayor. Mother got into a lot of trouble with that one. All he did was give her roses.

I had to get him back. He's Russian. Likes fish. In our last cookery lesson of the year, the teacher said we could make anything we liked, so long as we were able to get the ingredients. So I asked her about Russian fish dishes. She immediately told me about Dressed herring, or 'herring under a fur coat' literally translated. It was perfect. Everything diced and grated, tons of small little vegetables and bits of herring, all put together to make one dish. Other kids did Toad in the Hole or Barbecue Baked beans, I did Dressed herring and got an A+. What the teacher didn't know was that I'd used an old fish that'd been hiding in my mother's fridge for months, it smelt like herring...but it wasn't. I also mixed some very strong spices like paprika in with the grated vegetables, unnoticable unless tasted.

You should've seen him when he first caught sight of it. He scoffed the lot, didn't give my mother or me a chance. We couldn't use the bathroom for the rest of the night, either.

Grudge Match 1 - 60 seconds

(murderous unicorn, The Apollo Lunar Roving Vehicle, A fantasy football draft must be a part of the main scene of the story, The story must be written from the POV of someone with a mental illness or developmental delay)

An unfinished draft pick on Fox Sports? A.Morris at Washington was 10th? Absurd. What? What time is it? 10:23, morning, by the rays through the window.

"Halle?"

Not here. Where did she go? She was here a minute ago. Or not? Now, what was I doing? A draft pick? Yes. Wait. There was something on my mind. What was it? Minimise. Now, what was it? Good background, when was that changed? The Apollo Lunar roving vehicle. Nice.

"John?"

He's not here, either. Maybe he changed it. It's okay, it can stay for a while. What was I doing? Mmm, hungry. After 10, perhaps get something from the kitchen...

Look at that, these shelves are a bit dusty. Halle really should get round with her duster more often. She's good with the hoover but I guess she skips on the dusting. That evil wizard figure is covered in so much dust he looks like he's suffering from radioactive fallout. And his favourite piece, the murderous unicorn, isn't so much a raven black anymore, more like goose grey.

The computer's on. Did I turn it on? Browser's on. Maximise. Draft pick, fantasy football on Fox Sports. Unfinished. Is this John's? Better not close it, might be important for him. Was that my stomach? Gotta get something to eat...

"Halle?"

Not here. What was I doing?

"John?"

Not even John. Oh, the computer's on, good, I wanted to do something. What was it? What's this? Fox Sports fantasy football draft pick? Great. Is this John's? He's got some strange picks here. But he can do whatever he likes. Is there a way to save this and have a go myself?

"John! You left the computer on!"

I'll save it under his name. Good. Now, is McKoy available? Yes! Cool, he can be my running back. Now I need a few from the Giants, not much left. Where can I find that menu with the rankings, no, not...

What is this? A draft pick? Where was I? Minimise. I need to do something, now what was it?

"Halle?"

Where is she?

"Halle? You back yet?"

Guess not. Did I write it down somewhere? Wow, the dust on this desk. And the mess, so many bits of paper and...stuff. What is this for? The junk I find...should get Halle to do a bit of spring cleaning. This room could surely use it. Look at my fantasy figures up on the shelf. My murderous unicorn is covered.

"John?"

He's not here, either. That's strange. I'm hungry, when did I last eat? Perhaps I should go and get something...

That is a nice background picture, I guess John put it on. I don't think I could take too much of the Apollo Lunar roving vehicle, but it can stay for a while a least. Now, what was I doing?

"Halle?"

No reply. Guess she's not here. The front door.

"Halle?"

"No! It's John!"

"Great! John? Did you change the background on my computer?"

"Guess I did. Sorry."

35 - Fat bird

(Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, Twister (the game), hot air balloon, fishnet stockings)

Fat. No other word for it. Obese. Okay, so there is. But fat fit better. And not big-boned, or overly plump. Fat. She was so fat she made Israel Kamakawiwo'ole look anorexic. Sadly, she couldn't play the ukulele as well as him, maybe it would've helped. When researching the definition of 'fat' in the Oxford English Dictionary they even considered her name as a candidate for a reference.

And guess who was going out with her, well, going out is a stretch of the imagination, more like molested and bullied. One moment I was enjoying a pint in the club with a couple of friends, the next I was suffocating under a mountain of meat. Voluptuous love handles there were not, only folds of fat, one over the other. The first time I tried - what was I thinking? - all I found was one fold after another. Collected a few cents, though.

Now it's been two years, going out to places and hiding the glances, staying in and surviving the intimacy. The worst was when she'd hired a hot air balloon ride for my birthday and it couldn't take off, not with her inside the basket. She got really upset about that one, and I never heard the end of that one. It was my fault for asking for it. I'd leave her if it wasn't for the fact she's destroyed any self-esteem I'd ever had with her constant negative banter about myself.

Tonight was inside, thankfully only a nostalgic trip from her childhood, playing Twister. An elephant doing yoga would be more successful. She was crushing my leg with her double chin.

"Spin it! I can't hold this position much longer!"

I was the one holding her up. One false move and goodbye grandchildren.

"Left hand, green."

"Oh, that's easy!"

One swing of her flabby arm across my body and I collapse with her weight crushing down on me. Her fishnet stockings, probably made from real fish nets, not only made her legs look like roast hams, with fake suntanned flesh squeezing through the reinforced mesh, but also left a mark on my face.

"You're so pathetic, I win again!"

It was better to let her win. Her 'forcing me to make up with her' ploy when she lost was always a bad move.

"Look...I've got something important to tell you."

Oh no, not the summer holiday! Not another trip to the beach. Last time they called out the local Whale Watch and tried to put her back out to sea.

"I've...I've found someone else!"

Under the folds? Where?

"I'm sorry, but it's just not working out, it is? We're just not going anywhere, are we?"

What is this? A push for a proposal?

"I can see you're in shock, I know, after all we've been through, but I think it's for the best."

Who's the lucky guy?

"If you want we can talk about it, perhaps there's a way we can make it work?"

Where's the door?

36 - Two's a crowd, three's company

(12 sweaty Sumo wrestlers, indestructible filing cabinet, wooden hanger, Big Wheel (tricycle))

"Just like Kanagawa, this."

"What?"

"'A 'sinch' you said."

"What are you going on about?"

Dan's voice echoed under the metal structure.

"'In and out, quick as a flash' you said. 'No problem'."

"What?"

"You never told me we were robbing a Japanese gym, though, did ya?"

"Oh, shut up, Kaye. I'll have it done in an hour, max."

"Make that 25 minutes, I've got plans tonight."

Dan banged the metal to no avail.

"Yeah, what a 'sinch' that was, twenty sweaty Sumo wrestlers..."

"Twelve."

"Oh, I stand corrected. Twelve sweaty Sumo wrestlers come running in, demanding we explain our situation."

"I got us out of there, didn't I?"

"Yeah, right. Only after my arse was ripped apart by a ton of wasabi!"

"Stop complaining!"

The gig hadn't gone well so far. Told to be an easy job, Dan and Kaye came quite unprepared. 'Get in that office, open the filing cabinet and extract these files.' Those were the orders. But no one had bothered to tell them what they'd be up against. The office door was child's play, a skeleton key and they were in, but once they saw the target, a large metal filing cabinet, they knew it was going to be a long night. They'd never seen anything like it, no keyholes, metal an inch thick at least, and no way in. Initial hits with a large hammer had only jammed the drawers shut even more, making them impossible to open. Dan was trying a way in from the bottom.

"Did you bring the screwdrivers?"

"Yes."

Kaye dropped them under.

"Nope, not one of them is good."

"Great, What now?"

"Look around the office...I tell ya what, find me a hanger, there must be one here."

"A hanger, okay."

It didn't take long for Kaye to find one in a wall closet, with a fine suit hanging from it. He admired the suit in a full-length mirror as he passed the hanger to Dan, who came out from under the cabinet.

"What's this?"

"A hanger."

"It's a wooden hanger."

"And?"

"I need a wire hanger."

"In this kind of office? Come on."

"What? Can't you see what I'm trying to do here? This...this is an indestructable filing cabinet. We were set up."

Kaye went back to the mirror.

"What'ya think?"

Dan threw the hanger back at Kaye missing him by an inch.

"Hey!"

"What...shhh! Shut up! What was that?"

"What?"

They both listened.

"I can't hear anything."

Kaye ignored Dan's concern and tried on the suit. Both heard a sudden continuous squeak coming from outside in the corridor.

"Shit!"

They dived for some cover, away from the open office door.

"What do you...?"

"Shhh!"

The squeaking came closer and closer until it finally stopped.

"What...?"

The lights in the corridor flickered on to reveal the source, a little boy chewing gum, sitting on a Big Wheel tricycle.

"What the...!"

Before they could react, the boy turned around and sped back up the now lit corridor.

"Get him!"

37 - Deranged

(Perry Mason, The Lone Ranger, Daisy Duke, The Bionic Woman)

"Kemosabe, me learn of trouble down in town. Me think her say heap big trouble."

"Doctor, what is he saying?"

"I think it's Tonto. Can I see his chart?"

"Yes, doctor."

Nurse Griffin passed Doctor Rhodes the patient's chart for the day.

"No wonder. Who put him on this?"

"Come on, Tonto! We have to save the town from those rustlers. Hi-ho, Silver! Away!"

The patient grabbed an old Halloween mask and sat on a broom, riding it around the corridor.

"Who was that masked man, doctor?"

"Ah-ha, the Lone Ranger. Nurse, where was he sent after lunch?"

"To the usual place, the communal room. I found him in front of the television, flicking through the channels."

"Yeess. This isn't good."

"No, doctor. His acting skills aren't so good."

"Wrong medication, it has certain side-effects, namely hallucinations."

"We gotta get daun there, Uncle Jesse! They're gonna get caught and get thrown in jail!"

"Oh, doctor, this looks serious."

"As serious as they come. 'The Dukes of Hazzard' if I'm not mistaken. And Daisy Duke for that."

"I'm gonna have to shake my ass to get them out. Damn that old Boss Hogg!"

"Not exactly in the right outfit for that, is he, doctor?"

"No...sorry, what?"

The nurse caught the doctor sneaking a look at the flaunting patient.

"Doctor!"

"What did you put in my head?"

"Doctor, I don't recognise this one. Still a woman, I presume."

"Yes. Let me think..."

The patient listened out to a non-existent sound far far away and began to run across the room in slow motion, accompanied by a bionic sound effect.

"Thought so! The 'Six Million Dollar Man'!"

"'Woman', doctor. His moves are bionic but quite feminine."

"Oh, Then it's 'The Bionic Woman'. Never...(cough)...really watched that one...(cough)."

"What did you do to me? You turned me into a soldier!"

"Definitely, the 'Bionic Woman', yes. Jaime Sommers, if I'm...not...mistaken. What?"

"Doctor! I'm astonished! A man of your calibre?"

"Sorry, nurse. Now, to business. Who prescribed him this medication?"

"It says here..."

"It has been suggested that the medication was given by another doctor."

"Why, yes, of course."

The nurse answered the patient's stern question.

"You seem to be an expert on medication, my dear."

"Well, I should be, I've worked as a nurse for more than sixteen years! The cheek!"

"Nurse. He's moved into another character."

"Oh, I see. Sorry, doctor."

"Nurse, you have no objection to our verifying your observation scientifically?"

"Err...?"

"As the defense attorney to the doctor not yet mentioned, I feel it is my duty to inform you that..."

"Perry Mason!"

"Excuse me, doctor?"

"I'm sorry? Are you addressing me, sir?"

"Yes, that's Perry Mason. I liked him better when he was in a wheel-chair."

The patient suddenly broke character and put on a black hat and started smoking a cheap cigar.

"My God! This patient is clearly deranged, nurse. He must be suffering from Chinese Chickenitus or Sadomasochistic Machiavellinism, depending on which self-published author you ask. Quick! Get the tranquillisers!"

38 - A Complete Git

(Roman Merchant Sailing Vessel, flour sack girdle, Bunny, the wonder elephant, The Royal Shakespearian Company)

He's taking off the first side of his cherished vinyl of 'Trout Mask Replica' and flipping it over, threatening to play the other side. Shit!

"But I'm really a Marillion fan."

There's always a reason why someone is an ex-pat living in a city far from home. I think I've just found it.

"Are you a Marillion fan, Dave?"

"Not really, never had the chance to listen to them..." Wrong thing to say! Recovery needed quickly! "I'm a Zappa fan."

"Oh, yes, 'Zappa'. He worked for Beefheart for a while."

"I don't think Zappa ever..."

"Beefheart brought him in as a producer for 'Trout Mask Replica'."

"I think you'll find that Zappa volunteered..."

"Beefheart is a genius. He paints, too."

"Right."

Bookshelves are always a good escape. Wow, there's a whole shelf dedicated to Shakespearea.

"Shakespeare, hey? I've got the 'Complete Works' at the flat."

"Inferior copy. I have every play, with historical notes, references and forewords from the greatest Shakespearean scholars. I used to be in the Royal Shakespearean Company."

And I'm the queen.

"Really? Which roles did you play?"

"Does it matter? Look, I have a whole collection of works, including literary criticisms, the older the better. Do you collect anything?"

"No, I don't. But my Dad does, he's the collector in the family, not me."

"What does he collect?"

"Elephants."

"Elephants? Does he have a big garden?"

"Err..."

"Does he have his own reserve, like that elephant sanctuary in...in Tennessee?"

"Err, no."

"Next you'll be telling me he has the bones of Bunny, the wonder elephant."

"No, he collects elephant sculptures and models."

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?"

"I thought it was obvious."

"Didn't you say your Dad was...American?"

"Yes, I did."

And out comes the smug superior grin of a pure-blood Brit.

"What is an 'American' doing in the UK?"

"He came over with the USAF and decided to stay."

More of that grin, it's turning into a sneer.

"Oh, the airforce? I was in Vietnam."

When the lie's too big...

"Vietnam? That was some time ago. Wouldn't you have been a bit young for that?"

"I lied about my age, I got in as a medic."

"I didn't even know the British were there."

"The Americans weren't there, either. Officially."

Smart arse.

"My Dad was, but only as an aircraft technician. He had to fix some colonel's plane with a bit of cloth and some chewing gum. Got a medal for it."

"I got one, too. I had to keep someone's guts from falling all over the floor."

"Really?"

"Yes, I made a girdle from...a flour sack."

"A flour sack girdle?"

"The doctor said I saved that man's life."

That's enough, I'm off.

"Sorry, I really have to go, got to get the car to the garage."

"A car? Ha! A complete waste of time in this city."

Git.

"I like sailing. For my next summer project I'm building a life-size Roman sailing merchant vessel from banana skins."

Right, that's it.

39 - Like father...

(can of Campbell's Alphabet Soup, the phrase "Live long and Prosper", 2000 year old Map of the Earth, empty Snuff Box)

"Why can't he be like other boys of his age, play Angry Birds, or collect football cards?"

Don chased his wife around the house as she put the ironed clothes away to their places.

"Do you really want him to be like all the other boys? That's not the guy I used to know. Whatever happened to the 'my boy will be different' speech?"

They had now moved to the kitchen and were getting the lunch ready. She opened a can of Campbell's Alphabet soup and shared the contents out into three bowls. Don put the first into the microwave and set it off for 1 minute 30 seconds.

"Gone. Especially when he starts collecting every Star Trek collectable he can find, wears those poxy suits everywhere we go and says that stupid phrase 'Live long and prosper' whenever he leaves a room!"

Their son came into the room wearing a red 'guess-who-will-be-killed-in-the-next-scene' Star Trek security guard shirt and a Geordi La Forge VISOR (Visual Instrument and Sensory Organ Replacement) device over his eyes. His mother waited for the microwave to 'ping', took the bowl out, put it on a tray along with a spoon and handed it over to her son. He left the kitchen, but not before...

"Live long and prosper."

"See?"

"So he has some...eccentricities."

"Eccentricities? Eccentricities! That boy needs help. We should call a psychiatrist."

"What? No way, darling, we're not calling a shrink. Our son's just going through a phase, that's all."

"Like the cutting and scribbling phase?"

"That was 10 years ago, Don. Perfectly normal for a five-year-old."

"What, taking my antique globe down from the shelf and scribbling all over my priceless copy of Agrippa's 2,000-year-old Orbis Terrarum which was wrapped around the top? Why couldn't he draw on walls like any other kid?"

"How was he to know that map was priceless? It was your fault for leaving it out like that."

Don slammed his palm on the counter.

"It was five feet up on the top shelf!"

"He's a good climber, isn't he? His P.E. teacher says he's doing well."

"What? I don't care what his P.E. teacher says! He's not the one whose 17th century snuff box just got turned into a James T. Kirk communicator!"

"You must admit, the lid does flip open like one."

"What?"

"Besides, you never used it for anything, it was always empty."

"It's an antique! Not a toy!"

Don's wife passed him a ham sandwich.

"Thanks. Look, I don't care what you say, he's not right in the head. I'm calling Doctor Leanstein."

"If you must, darling. But really, I think you're just as much to blame as anyone."

He put the phone down before having a chance to dial.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm as liberal as a wife can be, but there will come a point where I'll have to make a stand."

Don stood up in his pink negligee and matching silk brassiere and knickers.

"What are you talking about?"

40 (Grudge 2) - The Hungry Shark

(Kahlúa, motherboard, told from the POV of a shark looking for a meal, must be written in 'Terza Rima')

Where is my food, it was here yesterday,

This isn't how it's meant to be, is it?

I hope I'll find some, but is this the new way?

That new kid on the block, he's a real git,

Maybe he ate the fish, well, what a friend.

But if it was him, I'm gonna have a fit.

If I find out it was him, he won't attend

My next birthday, that'll be in the fjord.

If I had my way, he'd never ever mend.

I'd call my cousin, a fish with a big sword,

He'd slice him, and shove him in a tuba.

Or squash him so flat, he'd be a motherboard.

Or perhaps I can think of something newer.

Blend him up and put him in (without head)

A cocktail with a layer of Kahlúa.

Oh, where the hell is the food, is it all dead?

Do I look under stones, or under slugs?

If it goes on like this, I'll go to my bed.

Did they die of diseases, or cuts or bugs?

Did they go on holiday, Spain or France?

Or is it the case that I'm just a big mug?

This emptiness reminds me, that special dance

With the fish of dreams, one and only Hayle.

It ended with me doing a stupid prance.

Sprat, eel, hake, cod, tuna, flounder or fishtail,

I'm missing them so much, I can't tell you.

I think I'll write a list and send it by mail.

My hunger, it grows, my lips are going blue.

But there's no food to eat, not over here.

So the rest of the group are suffering too?

The last big fish I ate was not so near.

It was a huge Conger oceanicus.

I might have to swim some miles, I fear.

If I'm dumb, not careful or meticulous

I won't get a bite, or nothing to eat.

And the fall from grace would be so stupendous.

I've even had a nibble of human feet

In warmer waters, blue, close to the shore.

But I tell you now, It wasn't such a treat.

So disgusting, I didn't want anymore,

Those humans made a big fuss over it.

The way they reacted, hurt me to the core.

I even miss that stupid clown fish's wit,

The seaslugs walking with that silver trail,

And the sight of the Octopus' deep pit.

Where the hell is all the food? I feel frail.

Is there a party I don't know about?

I think I'm in trouble, I'm going quite pale.

Will I ever get food, I'm starting to doubt,

My teeth are even beginning to itch.

Oh, here comes that new kid, what a fat lout.

He's such a crafty one, I don't trust his twitch.

But what can I see? A little backpack?

I would love a cheese and cuccumber sandwich.

What? Hey? He has no food, no scrap? Nothing, not even a snack?

Oh, what the hell, I'm going over there to give him a whack.

41 - Strange Awakening

(The Antikythera Mechanism, voodoo witch doctor, Kryptonite, Houndstooth shoes)

"Come on, it'll be fun."

"I know a lot better things to do than go and visit that voodoo witch doctor uncle of yours."

"Voodoo? Ah, that's just rubbish, that is!"

Kevin rang the bell and I stood there wondering why. He'd mentioned his crazy uncle before but I'd never thought of him before now. Even the bell had a deep sinister ring to it. Was I frightened? The front door swung open, showing a dark hall inside.

"Okay, so he does a bit of the old Tarot cards, but no sticking pins in dolls and stuff. He doesn't do black magic, he does...I dunno really."

The wallpaper in the hall stopped me in my tracks. It had a strange look to it, some mathematical geometric pattern to it, rather like my mother's old Houndstooth shoes.

"Hey! Dave!"

"What? Hello."

"This is my uncle Jake."

"Nice to meet you, Dave."

I shook his hand but they continued to stare, with Kevin's uncle smiling.

"Sorry, but what's the problem?"

"You."

"What about me?"

"Dave, you've been staring at my wall for well over half an hour."

"What?"

The man was completely mad. I turned to Kevin who looked worried. He nodded his head in agreement.

"I'd say forty minutes."

"Ah, come one, you're kidding me. I haven't."

Kevin's uncle Jake walked into the first room to the right, and both myself and Kevin followed him. I had no idea what game they were playing, I had to be wary.

"Dave, please sit here."

"Why?"

"It's clear to me that you are susceptible to the 'powers' beyond."

"Powers beyond? What is this?"

"My tessellation wallpaper in the hall showed that you have a weakness, shall we say, to fall into a trance."

"Eh?"

"It is your paranormal 'Kryptonite', so to speak."

"Hey?"

"Let me show you."

I moved away from the chair but Kevin placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Dave, this is so rare, man. I've never seen anyone do that before."

"My nephew is right. Very few people are affected as much as you. Perhaps you have a hidden gift. If you allow me, I can help you..."

"This is rubbish."

I went to leave.

"Dave, please, he's not going to hurt you."

This was all nonsense, a silly prank Kevin had set up for me. I'd already cottoned on to their little scam. But why not see where it led?

"Okay."

I sat down and Kevin's uncle Jake took out a pocketwatch.

"Now, follow the movement...."

"What the hell is that?"

Kevin's face was staring at something on the table. It was a drawing, complex in design.

"It looks like some kind of clock, see the gears and levers?"

Kevin's uncle took a closer look but gave it back, baffled.

"It's the Antikythera Mechanism, an astronomical clock. Though you'd probably think of it more as an analog computer." Was that me talking? "I don't understand, where did it come from?"

"You drew it, Dave, it's your drawing."

"Is it?"

42 (Grudge 3) - Damn Injun

(supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, buried silver julep cup, there must be two main characters and one must be responsible for the death of the other, synchronous fireflies (photinus carolinus))

"You gonna be long, Wasichu?"

"Just hold onto that rope, injun."

Diwali stood on the clifftop overlooking his forefathers' territory, the 'land of the blue mist', and held the Wasichu's weight. His ol' grandpappy would've loved the view.

"If you're bored why dontcha sing one of them fine injun songs of yours?"

He looked down and watched the Wasichu hammering into the rockface. It was amazing the man could still see in this fading light.

"I don't like them, never did. I prefer musicals. Anything Julie Andrews. 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious', that's my favourite."

"Well, don't start singing that one. Almost done. I'm getting to it."

"What are you getting to, Wasichu? Why did you bring me all the way out here and make me miss my re-run of 'Victoria's Secret Fashion Show'?"

"My name's Dirk. Shut your mouth and I'll pay you well."

"'Well'. My grandpappy used to say 'do a good thing, do it well'."

"Is that an old Cherokee saying?"

"No. He smoked the pipe too much, he always opened his mouth and said something. He lived up to his name of 'Chattering Little Woodpecker'."

Diwali lost his footing for a second and a shower of rocks fell.

"Hey! Watch it! I almost lost my book!"

"Sorry, Wasichu. What book? Why do you have a book when you are hanging from a clifftop on a rope held by an 'injun'?"

"This book..."

As though Diwali could see it in the dark.

"...this book was my great-grandpappy's diary. In it he describes how he stole the silver Julep cup of John Quincy Adams, the 6th President of the United States of America, and hid it in this specific cliff-face at this certain height in a sealed leather pouch."

Diwali didn't know how to respond to that. His family did weird things: rituals, dances, dressing up in old costumes, but these Wasichus...

"Why?"

"Because Adams was a damn Yankee! How dare he drink a Southern cocktail of our fine bourbon whiskey!"

"Mmm, I see."

"And, and it's worth a goddam fortune!"

"How much you paying me for this?"

"Enough. Now hold on, I've almost...yes! I can feel something! Hey, injun, you gotta light?"

"I don't smoke."

"No, a light, a torch!"

"If you wait a little, there'll be some fireflies coming along soon. It's the season for them. They like this spot."

"Fireflies? Photinus carolinus?"

"Those flying insects with flames in their butts."

"Yes, synchronous fireflies. Really?"

"No, I like to open my mouth as did my grandpappy. Yes. See?"

Diwali watched as a swarm of fireflies gathered close by and flew slowly across the cliff-face as if by magic.

"Great! Okay, I'm done here! Haul me up, injun!"

"My grandpappy used to say 'do a good thing, do...'."

"'...it well.' Yeah, just pull me up, injun."

"He also said 'do a bad thing, do it quick.'"

"What?"

Diwali let go of the rope and watched the Wasichu fall to his death. He'd collect the cup later, after the re-run on TV.

43 - 2456 - A Space Pomposity

(Voyager Spacecraft (satellite), female MMA fighter, needle and thread, 10′ long, 12″ diameter PVC pipe)

"I can't believe that I have to do this."

Jane Rose 244 pulled the last stitch through the deep circular wound in her leg and made a knot with the remainder of thread.

"'Needs must' as your ancestors used to say," remarked Pal 1150. "Was the dose enough, Jane 244?"

"Yes, Pal, I didn't feel a thing, thanks."

She put the needle and thread back into her deceased colleague's sewing kit and allowed it to float away along with other items in the compartment.

"It's Lucky Dora loved sewing."

"I apologise for the situation, Jane 244. It appears very few of my functions are working to their required capacity. Maintenance teams are down."

Jane took a look at the destruction and chaos in the compartment, finally resting her eyes on the 10' long 12" diameter PVC pipe which used to be the main ventilation pipe until it became imbedded in the top of her leg. The last few 100 light years were hell.

"Any news on the others, Pal?"

"I apologise but there are no other life signs onboard."

She could see Dora 457's body floating below in zero gravity, her head severed by a cable.

"Stephen 116?"

"There are no other life signs."

It was Stephen who'd spotted the anomoly, but too late. Their light drive had flipped out from the set course and the ship filled with sirens and flashing red lights. She couldn't remember what happened next, but she'd woken to immense pain in her leg and found that she was impaled on the ventilation pipe.

"Any chance of some gravity, Pal?"

"In your condition, Jane 244, it is best if you stay in zero gravity. Your injury is in your femoral artery. If I was able to turn gravity back on, which I am not, then you would suffer more, even with your rudimentary treatment."

"Rudimentary? I'll have you know I was well respected for my stitching. I've done better, I'd admit, but this is pretty good."

"My records show that you have no medical experience, Jane 244."

"Did some stitching back in the MMA, many, many years ago."

She pushed herself off the wall and headed for the control panel. There was a particularly interesting green one flashing.

"Yes, the MMA. Were you a good MMA fighter, Jane 244?"

"I wouldn't say that, but I could hold my own."

"A dislocated shoulder, smashed kneecap and minor facial injuries."

"Thanks for that, Pal."

"You're welcome, Jane 244. I have some good news."

"Good news? Bring it on."

"Unfortunately my functions are limited. I cannot bring anything on."

"Give me the good news, Pal."

"Yes, Jane 244. We have achieved a new record for deep space travel, surpassing Voyager 1 by a mere 1000 AU."

"Yippie. What's this green button, Pal?"

"Which green button, Jane 244? "

"This one."

"Unfortunately my functions are limited. I cannot tell you what green button you are talking about, Jane 244."

"I see this is going to be a long ride."

44 - The trouble with twins

(child's wagon, bug zapper, cranberries, faded dragon slayer manual)

"Now boys, you did a bad thing, a very bad thing. I want you to know that."

Those twins, always getting into trouble. I never thought much to it before, boys will be boys, but this time they'd gone way too far. They sat there, on the sofa, looking at the floor and kicking their legs. They didn't care. It was like water off a duck's back.

"I want to know exactly what happened."

As usual, nothing. Not even a cough or sniff. Jess spoke up first, finally. He was the strongest willed of the two. Tom was quieter though had more brains. Neither of them had looks, unfortunately.

"We were just playing."

"Rather dangerous playing, Jess. Extremely dangerous. So?"

Silence. Let's turn to the other one.

"Tom, tell me, what is this, hey?"

He looked up from the floor and glanced at exhibit one, the faded exercise book I was holding.

"It's our dragon slayer handbook. I made it."

The pictures inside were amazing, perhaps we should enrole Tom to an Arts school after the summer. A bit too much blood and gore though, but still very good.

"A faded dragon slayer handbook. Really? Dragons?"

Oh, how I wish...to imagine dragons again would be heaven.

"It's a very old book, past down from generation to generation of dragon slayers!"

"Jess, Tom made it. It's weeks old."

Silence.

"And why do you need a dragon slayer handbook?"

"To kill dragons, of course!"

Stupid question. Exhibit two.

"What about the wagon, boys?"

"Our chariot."

"Chariot?"

They'd borrowed the neighbour's kid's wagon. He'd left it in the garden yesterday. A child's wagon was a chariot?

"Let me guess, it's your chariot of war."

"Not really. It's just faster to travel by chariot."

"What, from the garden to the lounge?"

Silence.

"Boys, why the cranberries? A soldier's snack?"

"Warriors!"

"Sorry, warriors."

Why was I apologising?

"Cranberries are our secondary weapon! Drop a few into a sleeping dragon's mouth and it's 'Goodbye, dragon!'"

"Cranberries?"

"Yes."

They aren't the families favourite food, I admit, but to consider them poison...

"Okay, boys, I'm beginning to see the whole picture now. And this...?"

"It's our main weapon of mass destruction!"

"It kills dragons at one hundred paces!"

"Boys, it's a bug zapper. It kills flies and mosquitos at five millimetres."

Silence.

"Okay, so this is your chance, boys. Tell me what happened. Now."

"We..."

"Yes?"

"We went on a dragon hunt in our chariot."

Jess pulled Tom across the garden in the wagon.

"Through the dense forest of Petuna."

The petunia flower bed.

"And into the cave of the dragon from the east."

Into the lounge.

"We crept closer and prepared the poison."

They opened the can of cranberries.

"And dropped them into the sleeping dragon's mouth."

"Yes...?"

"The dragon woke up and tried to grab us with its sharp claws and kill us with fire!"

"Oh no."

"We used our weapon of mass destruction, shoving it deep into the dragon's soft fleshy stomach!"

"You zapped Grandma."

45 - Winter Equinox Open Elimination Round - Selfish Little Monkeys

(judge, victim, liberal, conservative)

"Greetings."

Zaxoon hated these early morning cases, they seemed to always run on into the afternoon, completely messing up his siesta.

"Sor...sorry? Where am I?"

"More to the point where am I?"

He watched the two humans for a moment. One was a liberal, the other a conservative, both from the most destructive yet influential area on the third planet.

"Order in the court!"

He banged his hammer with boredom.

"Court? I demand an attorney!"

Zaxoon pointed at the first human.

"You, liberal..."

"Democrat!"

"Whatever. You and your friend..."

"He's not my friend!"

"Apologies. Yourself and your co-representative, a conservative..."

"Republican!"

Zaxoon reached for his cup and drank some coffee. He'd have to order sandwiches.

"This is a court of law. I am your judge."

The Democrat was the first to bite.

"What's the charge?"

"Ah, I see one of you is awake. The prosecution is represented by Mr. Aphandra over here."

A large tree shook its branches and rustled its leaves.

"Translation, please."

A small alien ran over to the tree and listened.

"I am a victim."

"Thank you, Mr. Aphandra. Now, as humans, you are here on a charge of pollution and gross misuse of the third planet, and prejudice and elimination of other species. I have already seen an immense amount of evidence Mr. Aphandra presented to myself..."

"Sorry, who are you?"

"Zaxoon 48892, member of the UCP and as I said before, your judge today. Keep up. How do you plead?"

The two senators, recovering from shock, answered in unison.

"Not guilty."

"State your defense, humans."

"May I?" asked the Republican to his colleague.

"Why not? It'll be a novelty for you to be first."

The Republican shrugged off the remark and continued.

"We use this planet responsibly. If anyone feels we have misused it or created a victim of any creature it is because it wasn't profitable enough to..."

The Democrat stopped his colleague in mid-sentence.

"Please, excuse my fellow representative."

"Excused. Please continue."

The Democrat coughed and began his speech.

"The planet and its environment are infinitely precious, and we as a race must protect it from pollution and destruction from thoughtlessness, and by creating such legislation as to both benefit ourselves, our economy and the planet, we..."

"Stop. I've heard enough."

"But..."

"In your lease agreement, as signed by OgOg, supreme leader of the human race..."

Zaxoon showed the humans the lease contract.

"What's that 'x'?"

"It's OgOg's signature. As I was saying, it's clear that your species have broken most, if not all, articles written under your agreement."

"Our what?"

"It's all here in black and turquoise."

"What?"

"I hereby evict you from the third planet."

"Are you holding a gun to America's head, sir?"

"You must leave the planet as soon as the papers are through. Do you have anything further to say?"

The Democrat thought a while.

"How long does that take?"

Zaxoon calculated the difference.

"With your time system, 200 years."

They conferred, smiled and answered in unison.

"Okay."

46 - So close

(haboob, high diving horse, Birmingham Jail song, Yves Rossy, the Jetman)

They sat huddled together inside the building, one reading a magazine.

"A dust storm. A damn dust storm!"

"Actually, in these parts, it's called a 'haboob'."

"I don't care what they call it in these parts! It's stopping me...us from reaching that temple!"

The temporary cover over the entrance was taking a beating.

"Yes, so close, and to be stopped by an intense wind of sand carried on an atmospheric gravity..."

"Will you shut up! Can't we just go walk there in this? It's only a few hundred feet below."

"It's not safe. We might get blown away, or get lost, even in this short a distance. You might even go blind. I'd say dive for it, but you could be scooped up by the sand and taken elsewhere. It's best if we wait."

"We can't wait. We've already lost our horses, most of our kit and run out of food and water. And we still need to somehow get back."

"Did you know, horses can dive?"

"What are you going on about?"

"Well, if we hadn't lost them, we could've used them to dive down."

"You know, I have absolutely no idea what you're going on about!"

"There was a high diving horse attraction back in Atlantic City at the beginning of the century. The girl was blind, too, the one who rode them down."

"Blind? Atlantic City? Is it the sand or the heat which has razzled your brain?"

"Neither."

"We're here to get that treasure in the temple! Not swap trivia!"

One stood up, the other went back to his magazine. The sand hit their shelter hard.

"Lucky we found this place."

"It's the gatehouse to the temple."

"Oh, yes, so it is. Oh, look."

"What? What have you fou...oh, your magazine."

"There's an article on Yves Rossy, the Jetman, quite interesting. He almost died in his first attempts."

"We will too if we can't think of a way to get out of here."

"If only we had one of those jet-propelled wings."

"Do you know how they work?"

"Err, no. Hang on...no, the article doesn't go into such details."

"He jumps out of a plane and then deploys the wings."

"Oh. Not much good on the ground, then?"

"No. Anything else which can help in that magazine of yours?"

"No, but it'll be handy in a minute, my stomach's giving me jip."

"That's all I need. Can't you take that outside...no, I guess not."

They were on opposite ends of the shelter, one at the entrance, the other in a corner.

"Oh, well, time for a sing-a-long, I guess...

Down in the valley, the valley so low

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow

Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow;

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow.

...hey, that's a bit appropriate, isn't it? Hello? Are you here? Must've gone out for a moment. Well, I can wait, I've got all the time in the world until that haboob calms down..."

47 - Winter Equinox Open Final- Marital Strife

(The Golden Fleece, A Mudskipper, James Bond Mini Spy Kit, A rhinestone Tiara)

"Right! That's it! I've had enough!"

She popped the sucker dart from her forehead without tripping over the seen-better-days goat puppet from the 'Sound of Music', grabbed the toy Colt 45 that Little Timmy was playing with only a moment ago, and put it in the attaché case of her husband's James Bond Mini Spy Kit target game, apparently used by Sean Connery himself when promoting the toy way back in 1965.

"Hey! Be careful, that's a collector's piece."

"Then why is he playing with it?"

"Because he knows how to be careful, not like you and your elephant feet. You bust Audrey Hepburn's rhinestone tiara from 'My Fair Lady' the other day."

She stood there fuming.

"I tell you why he's playing with it! Because we don't have money to buy him any real toys! You keep buying all this 60's movie memorabilia crap!"

It was his turn to get upset.

"Crap? They are pieces of classic movie history! How dare you, you troglodyte!"

She moved over to the table and picked up a blue toy.

"What about this, then? A Muddy Mudskipper cereal bowl caddy? This isn't classic movie history!"

"Come on, woman! 'The Woody Woodpecker Show'? Duh! Not to mention Harris Peet!"

How could she argue with such nonsense?

"And this?"

She pointed to a plastic figure.

"That's a sword fighting skeleton prop from 'Jason and the Argonauts', 1963, created by the late but great Ray Harryhausen."

"'Jason and the Argonauts'?"

"The golden fleece?"

"But that movie's not even a classic!"

"Dynamation! Before all this terrible CGI!"

"You've really gone too far! You spend all our money on these! Even Little Timmy had to spend his first few months sleeping in the original black cot from 'Rosemary's Baby' because we had no money to get another! You're crazy, absolutely crazy!"

"Oh, don't talk rot!"

She picked up an old chewed end of a cigar.

"You almost ripped my mother's head off when she tried to throw this away!"

"That's a stubbed out cigar from 'The Good, the Bad and the Ugly'!"

"This house is full of your shit!"

"Shit?"

"You can't move without tripping over something!"

She threw a pair of flippers at him which were sitting on the sideboard.

"Hey! They're from 'The Graduate', priceless!"

"And these?"

A worn-out disgusting looking pair of dirty white undies.

"They stink! I'm going to wash them!"

"You can't do that! They're Tom Courtenay's shorts from 'The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner'!"

Next was a piece of wood.

"And what the hell is this?"

"A broken cue from 'The Hustler', 1961!"

"I just can't believe you, I really can't!"

Red faced, she dragged Little Timmy out of the room to help him put on his pyjamas and clean his teeth before bedtime.

"I guess that means no chains and restraints as worn by Charlton Heston in the 1968 version of 'Planet of the Apes' tonight, then?"

She shouted back from the hall.

"Only if you do the washing up!"

48 - A Eulogy for Suzie Wobblebottom?

(Mati Hari, toilet roll hat, single roller skate, house plant)

"Suzie Wobblebottom..."

Suzie what? 'Wobblebottom'? Who the hell has a name like 'Wobblebottom'? I wish I'd had time to be briefed on this one. Still, it's a paid job.

"...was many things if not interesting."

Not many people, those ones in the front pews over on the left are watching me, they must be the reason why I'm here, the small deaf contingency. They're shuffling a bit, though.

"Gathered here today, I see many friends, family and neighbours, who now pay their respects to this wonderful woman."

That part over there set aside for family is almost empty, save for a few shifty-looking people seated way at the back.

"Suzie, when she was young and fancy-free, could never stand by without putting a smile on any passing young lad's face..."

Eh-up. What?

"...with a love life which would put Mata Hari to shame and make even the whores in Mustang Ranch blush."

What the...? Are you serious? Does this man expect me to sign that?

"She was the flower of her district, her state, her country, especially when the circus or army came to town."

Who is this man? Is he insinuating that this woman was the local bike?

"Sadly, her overflowing love for all was to come to an untimely end after one night of passion with a Swahili deck swabber on a long-distance ocean liner when she caught an extremely violent case of Gonorrhea."

You have got to be kidding! How much am I getting paid for this? Whatever it is, it ain't enough!

"After many years of loneliness and depravity, those close to her watched her turn from an open, free wandering butterfly of a girl to a dry, insane, barren spinster, the cocoon of which you see before you now."

Who was this guy?

"Whoever can forget that local fete when she came dressed in nothing but her birthday suit and a toilet roll hat while carrying a Californian flannelbush, her favourite house plant. When asked why, she replied that she loved the plant so much that she kept it with her at all times, forgiving its irritation to her skin and eyes. The toilet paper hat was there as a convenient way to wipe away her tears. Of course, no mention of her nudity, the batty old dear."

Uh-uh, some people are leaving. There's a guy over there on the phone.

"And of her merits, the versatile and skillful way she tore through the town on a single roller skate, her Sunday best black lingerie slip flapping in the wind, among other things..."

Oh, that's sick! The poor woman!

"Suzie was the life of the party, a friend to all who'd have her..."

That guy with the phone, he's pointing over here...Police, he called the Police!

"Stop that man! He's ruined my Great aunt Nellie's funeral! And grab that damn sign language interpreter of his, too!"

What? She's not Suzie...I knew it! Where...? Where'd he go? He owes me money! Shit, the Police! I'm off!

49 - Muppet Respect

(muppet, escalator, stop sign, any 1970s book)

(Names have been changed to protect the innocent, namely to save me from any incrimination of copyright)

"What's on?"

"Let's see...oh, right, the Muppet Show! Always good for a laugh."

We sat down on the sofa to get ready for some entertainment.

"Dermit! We've gotta have that flamingo dancing act on right now!" Cooter came racing backstage.

"But Miss Hoggy is stuck in the elevator!" said Dermit.

"Dermie! Get me outta here!"

"We're working on it, Miss Hoggy!"

The elevator engineer turned to the camera.

"If you'd kept to the maximum weight restrictions..."

"I heard that!"

"Dermit!" shouted Cooter.

"Send in the clowns!"

A collection of crazy clowns with chainsaws ran onto the stage. Dermit heard the sound of screams from the audience and the motors slicing through limbs.

"Send out the clowns!"

A clown with a bloody chainsaw came back offstage.

"What? We're killing them out there!"

"That's my problem! Cooter, get them off the stage!"

The clowns left, disappointed.

"No one likes clowns anymore."

"Especially with chainsaws," retorted Dermit. Fonzie appeared with a green zombie.

"I'll go on, Dermit, with my new partner, Braindead."

"But he's a zombie!"

"And you're gonna hold that against him?"

Cooter appeared again.

"Dermit, they've started throwing food!"

"Oh, Dermie! When exactly are you going to get me outta here?" asked Miss Hoggy, still stuck.

"In a moment, Miss Hoggy!"

The engineer shook his head and restarted his cutting torch.

"I promise!"

"Now they're throwing their colostomy bags and _Prosthetic limbs!_ "

Bonzo walked by with an artificial leg.

"Hey, I can use this in an act.Where's my wonderful Camilla? Camilla?"

Fonzie went down on one knee.

"Please, Dermit, please!"

"Oh, okay, then! Go! Get out there!" Dermit sighed.

The music started and the double act went on, wearing large blonde wigs.

"I tell ya Fonzie, I got stuck in an elevator the other day for 3 hours!"

"3 hours! Derrrrrmiiiiie!" shouted Miss Hoggy offstage.

"3 hours?" asked Fonzie.

"Yeah, it was torture."

"Well, that's nothing. I got stuck on an escalator for six!" Fonzie looked towards the audience, accompanied by a drum roll and cymbal crash.

Stafler and Warndorf woke up in their balcony seats.

"If I had a joke that flat..."

"...it would be a pancake!" They both laughed.

Braindead was now holding a sign showing a red cross painted over a sine function.

"Hey, what ya doing?"

"I'm protesting against Trigonometry."

"Really, well, what's that?"

"It's a 'stop sine'."

Another drum roll and cymbal crash. Stafler and Warndorf started again.

"Well, that one really 'divided' the audience."

Fonzie tried to ignore them.

"What have you got there, buddy?"

"It's Bruce Lee's "Tao of Jeet Kune Do"." Braindead was eating it. "I like to read and digest a book."

There were a few laughs.

"Man, I don't know about you, but I'm always hungry an hour after eating Chinese."

Stafler and Warndorf beat the drums.

"I don't know about you, but I found that one 'wonton'."

Drum roll and cymbal crash.

Fonzie and Braindead left the stage.

"How did it go, Fonzie?" asked Dermit.

"Don't ask, just don't ask."

49 - One in a Million (the story entered on TIW)

(muppet, escalator, stop sign, any 1970s book)

I guess the signs were there early on that Jeffrey was different. In kindergarten you could see it. All the others had teddy bears and fluffy pink elephants and horses for comfort toys to sleep with. Not Jeffrey. He had a Gonzo puppet, a grotesque, cross between a bird and a who-knows-what smiling purple muppet. Running around shouting 'The Great Gonzo' and searching for chickens were two of Jeffrey's favourite pastimes while the others hit the swings and slides.

It didn't get better. When we got stuck in an escalator in that Greek hotel, he announced to all those present whom we'd befriended, a French family and an elderly Englishman, that to calm us all down he would recite the Lord's Prayer. It was okay until about the twelfth time around, he was quite cute in his little bowtie and cardigan, his eight year old eyes shining through his prescribed glasses. But it took hours for help to arrive. We never saw those people again. Ever.

Then he got heavily into sci-fi, what with Star Wars, Star Trek and all. The greatest for him was Douglas Adams. He used to be a huge Hitchhikers fan. For years he'd celebrate Adams' birthday with the towel thing and post a picture of it up on the web. He was even the leader of a local HHGTTG fan club, until that is he picked up an old British copy of the book in one of those conventions he was always going to and found out that the words 'Belgium', 'kneebiter' and 'swut' were not the original words used by Adams. Now, whenever he sees or hears of any reference to 'Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy', be it book, film, TV series or any actor or quote connected to it, he throws himself into a rage and rants on about how Adams debased himself as a writer with the use of coarse foul language and that it was actually American censorship which brought the artistic quality out of the book.

And it's grown from there, really, his ever annoying behaviour. Still with the glasses and bowtie, he starts shouting in a crowd and goes off on one, telling someone about how everything is just one big conspiracy theory and that we should stand up against the oppression around us.

One of his latest stunts was to sit at the crossroads waiting for cars to come by and step in front of them with a Stop sign in hand, making them screech to a halt. He then proceeded to tell the driver, from where he stood, how their car was destroying the environment and that they should go to work or wherever they were going on foot or by horse or bicycle. Usually the driver beeped him out of the way with force and he begrudgingly moved. I also saw them get out and belt him one. Serves him right, really. He's one irritating piece of s**t.

Sorry? Who am I? His mother, that's who.

50 - Never again

(snow rollers, harpy, nail gun, motorcycle airbag)

Escaping through the door, still clutching the paper bag, he slipped and slided to where he'd left his bike. No snow had fallen since entering but a cold penetrating wind had begun, cutting through his thick ski jacket and woollen undergarments. Climbing onto his bike, he placed the key into the ignition and fired her up. By his reckoning, he had a few minutes jump on the beast. With both feet on the ground, he rode his bike out of the carpark and took the quickest way home, along the farm road and through the forest. There was a loud smash behind him as though a window had been broken. It was free.

"Goddamn it!"

He revved his motorbike to max and sped down the road, hitting bumps and almost losing his seating once or twice. The bike bounced badly once more and he narrowly stopped himself from joining the large snow rollers in the fields to his left. Sighing with relief, he heard an ominous sound of beating wings overhead. With a screech, the Harpy divebombed him, scratching its claws into his helmet, but he swerved to the right preventing it from keeping its grip. It screamed in frustration as it saw the forest appear, forcing it to fly higher, unable to get to him.

Once in the cover of the forest, the Harpy could only follow him from a distance and he felt safer. He looked up to see its progress and his bike hit a rock, sending it straight into a tree, head-on. Luckily, he'd listened to his uncle's advice and bought a Honda Gold Wing with airbag instead of some fancy speed killer. But even with the airbag, his helmet broke in two and rather shakily, he picked up the paper bag and left his beloved bike, running through the deep snow in the direction of home.

A few metres into the cover of the trees, he noticed Old Ted's place, a small wooden hut, and he remembered something. Clearing the snow from the outside workbench, he found what he was looking for, Old Ted's portable combustion nailer. Losing no time at all, he turned around and started shooting nails at the Harpy, who was now racing towards him on foot through the snow. The nails had no effect on the creature.

He dropped the now useless nail gun and ran back into the forest, but to no avail, the Harpy clutched onto his back and flung him down into the soft virgin snow. Its claws ripped at his jacket and he could do nothing to stop its onslaught. The end had come.

"Oh, all right, goddamn you!"

He threw the paper bag as far away as possible and the Harpy scurried away to retrieve it. Searching in the snow, with a final screech it took the paper bag and devoured its contents. Sitting up watching, he pointed his finger at the beast.

"But I'm telling ya, that's the last time I'm taking you to KFC!"

51 (Grudge 4) - Tunktan eh Lamar

(no 'to be' verbs, dying in a dream, "Punch and Judy" - it can either be a literal use of a Punch and Judy show, or an interpretation based on the common storyline of your typical Punch and Judy show, one of your characters must have a secret crush)

Squening im ulm loval smay, flaffling dun, wheaped upe du kartnal, du bartli henness uff du narted yoff mitt u. Nat zark ohn loval smay, varnig loval smay. Ha!

"Tunktan! Tunktan! Offanar il? Tunktan!"

Ulm fissart turpt, e narnared imtu du kartnalnu.

"Lamar, ulm balting fiss, dute datte il dana?"

"Tunktan, ulm balting Tunktan! Luzorn wid u!"

Olm luzorn fanass du kartnalantar, sissing eh flissing ath lovatt datte.

"Pah, Lamar, il gontlo ath olm datte im olm finky lanty marr."

"Tunktan, il luzom ath il mingala datte."

Olm smuzzeed eh kluzzeed eh crottched mumuze.

"Tunktan, u kakat ningning."

"Kakat ningning? Arrag? Eh olm lovat tutai?"

"Olm lovat tutai il karrang."

"Karrang?"

"Karrang, Tunktan, karrang. Dana il linige?"

"Pah, dana linige, dana linige. Il kaat ningning."

E kluzzeed eh crottched u.

"Tunktan, u lovat batta."

"Na, na, lovat batta. Sini!"

"Sini!"

U fissart turpt kakat ningning eh u karrang olm lovat tutai, nat olm lovat tutai zazakani!

"Lovat tutai! Ani, ani zazakani!"

E zazakani boll, yuka boll.

"Lovat tutai! Fi poff zazakani, gi u errofalli! Parning?"

Olm lovat tutai zazakani, yuka. U errofalli eh olm lovat tutai yuka yuka zazakani. Ulm fissart turpt leekakat ningning.

"Tunktan! Offanar il? Tunktan!"

"Lamar! Fleele?"

"Tunktan, dute...dute datte il dana?"

"Olm lovat tutai zazakani, yuka."

"Zazakani? Yuka? Eh il dute datte? Il errofallit?"

"Na, na, u errofallit."

"Dutte il fanapilar, Tunktan? Fanapilar?"

"Ani fanapilar! U errofallit!"

"Ani errofallit! Olm lovat tutai mingala! Mingala!"

Du moolonoh-ho ningning, e datte fliff-fliff ulm fissart turpt? U kajzah e fliff-fliff?

"Moolonoh-ho, sisi."

"Sisi, Tunktan, Lamar. Dute dana fleele?"

Du moolonoh-ho fliff-fliff wikiniki ulm fissart turpt! U ani kajzah, u kaj!

"Dute datte il dana, moolonoh-ho?"

"Dute datte dana il, Tunktan?"

"U errofallit olm lovat tutai. Eh il? Il fliff-fliff ulm fissart turpt?"

"U ani dute datte!"

"Ani datte! Ani datte? U kajzah, u kaj!"

"Ani, ani, il ani kajzah. Na, na, il ani kaj."

"Fanapilar, moolonoh-ho! Fanapilar!"

E ani jajtah fliff-fliff eh ulm fassart turpt ani kaj.

"Ani, ani, Tunktan! Il errofallit olm lovat tutai. Il fanapilar!"

U errofallit du moolonoh-ho.

"Tunktan, ulm balting Tunktan! Dute datte il dana? Dute fanapilar?"

"U errofallit wikiniki errofallit!"

U errofallit ulm fissart turpt. Du moolonoh-ho wheaped, flaffed dun.

"Tunktan! Fo poff eroorfallit! Fi poff!"

U errofallit wikiniki du moolonoh-ho yuka eh yuka. Olm lovat tutai zazakani, yuka.

"Olm lovat tutai, ani zazakani!"

U errofallit olm lovat tutai.

"Tunktan, ani, ani errofallit olm lovat tutai!" ulm fassart turpt marmared.

"Errofallit? Errofallit? Hart du kass o datte dana! Hart du kass o datte dana!"

U narte eh warkkate, eh u toolt im ulm majmuj.

"Tunktan?"

U flaffed dun, yoff mitt u.

"Yoi datte?"

"Tunktan?"

"Yoi datte!"

"Du slizzola."

U yoff mitt u, yuka eh yuka!

"Slizzola? Dute il datte dana?"

Ulm chiki terlaplap.

"Il fanapilar, Tunktan."

"U fanapilar?"

"Na, na. Howlet kaj."

"Howlet il kaj?"

"Na."

U errofallit du slizzola.

"Tanktan! Ani, ani errofallit! U slizzola!"

"U slizzola gi ani u slizzola! U errofallit!"

Du slizzola ani flaffling dun olju du blaffing terke tungtung.

Only for my loval smiploff (nonsense poetry)

(based on Challenge 51 entry)

Squeening in maloppal ossmaj,

Flaffling, wheafing in the tooknaj,

Bartli henn a narted moz-yoff,

Only for my loval smiploff, only for my loval smiploff.

Fissart turt narred in kartnahnu,

Wheeking on a loozarn dahtoo,

Sissing and a flissing lovatt,

Klozzing for my crotchled hollatt, klozzing for my crotchled hollatt.

"Tunktan, Tunktan, kakat ningning,

Arragag our lovat tooning?

Karragang and dana linning.

Pah! You katta sini pingping!"

"Zazakani yuka bollmoll.

Errofalli! Para nollhall!

Fissart turt leekakat offnar,

Moolonoh-hoe kajzah tiklar!"

Wikiniking in the pilaar,

Jajtah fliff-floff under feela,

Lamar dana tutai kassa,

Lizzo geejee blaffing tassah, lizzo geejee blaffing tassah.

Squeening in maloppal ossmaj,

Flaffling, wheafing in the tooknaj,

Bartli henn a narted moz-yoff,

Only for my loval smiploff, only for my loval smiploff.

52 - Mon 'anime'

(how you would quit your job, the scent of rain, Kiwi bird, Joan of Arc)

Escaping the torrential rain outside, Kourano burst into the room, a room dark, dank, forbodeing. In a corner lay a pile of rags glowing in blue flame. Her flame.

"Jeanne! Jeanne! Is that you?"

He stopped dead from the sight of a red flamed hand held outstretched towards him, emerging from the rags.

"Jeanne!"

She sat with her head in her knees, the outstretched arm trembling. This was the dreaded Jeanne D'Arc, Drifter killer.

"Mon 'anime', do not come another step closer or I will in-flame you as I have with so many before. You are nothing but a heretic to me."

"But Jeanne, the Black King, he summons you! Toyohira is drawing near and you must battle!"

"Go, I tell you, go! I have no use of such things! I renounce all such destruction and carnage!"

"But...!"

The hand trembled and fell, the flames died to mere cinders. Kourano heard the sound of weeping.

"Jeanne!"

She wiped her tears and stood, her Christian upside-down crosses clearly showing on her armoured apparel.

"I...I...I hate this rain, this never-ending rain!" cried Jeanne, her head still in her hands. "The sound, the cold, the scent of the rain...."

Kourano saw that she had lost it, broken, in remorse. He stood opposite her, careful not to come within reach.

"Jeanne, Jeanne, where is the woman...."

"Woman? Am I a woman?"

A face with streaks of mascara appeared from her hands as Kourano took one step back.

"Err...?"

"Do I not wear man's attire? Do I not have a monster's appetite for death? Are my breasts not small?"

"...err...well...err..."

"Do I not eat turkey?"

"Turkey? Jeanne! Where is the warrior in you? Where? In this time of great need, where is she?"

"Gone, mon ami, gone."

"What? You are an End! You kill, destroy Drifters with fire, burn the world to ashes! You have great manga lines like "There they are! There they are! I can feel their stench. The stench of Pine Fresh Deoderant!" or...or...wait, there was that really good one, err..."Kiwi birds, kill that cassoway! I will eat this chicken!" Yes, that one!"

"She is...gone, no more, mon ami, she...she..."

The flames grew and Kourano retreated back further towards the door.

"But you, mon ami, you are...a man."

He didn't like the sound of that.

"Err...yes?"

"Then take me! Take me as the English Lord did when I was imprisoned in my cell, take me as I have never been taken before!"

Jeanne ripped open her armour to reveal her bare self. Kourano gave out a yelp and cowered. After some moments had passed, she slowly covered herself again and slumped back down to her defensive seated position, head in knees, sighing. Kourano took the chance of opportunity.

"Err...Jeanne?"

He stepped closer once more.

"Jeanne, this...this Toyohira..."

"What about him?" wimpered Jeanne.

"Well, I've heard he's...he's a bit of a 'ladies' man."

The soft sobbing halted and one eye peeped through flaming arms.

"Pardon?"

"A bit of a charmer."

A smile appeared...

Weekend Quickie 1 - Bradán, the moaning sod

(image - burning wicker man, element - applesauce, emotion - abject despair)

It was a typical annual get-together at the burning sacrifice with the relatives, sitting and watching the Druids perform their wonderfully detailed rituals. The women had brought the usual picnic. Trust Bradán, the moaning sod, to ruin it.

"Where's the applesauce, Genovefa?"

I heard his request and poked Genovefa with a stick.

"Applesauce? I thought I...oh. Sorry, left it. The kids were playing 'hide the acorn' and I..."

"What? Oh, Genovefa, how can I eat my pork without applesauce?"

Bradán started to whine. Another of the women tried to help him out.

"I got some cranberry."

"It's not the same! Oh, you've brought me to abject despair, you really have! How can I enjoy this poor man burn without applesauce on my pork?"

"There, there, Bradán. Look, his arm has fallen off first. That's different from last year."

"I don't care! Oh, how could this have happened? No applesauce!"

"Bloody hell, Bradán, put a rag in it!"

"Oh, the pain! Pork without applesauce!"

"Shut up, you're spoiling the sacrifice."

"Haerviu, go and take Bradán away, could you, dear? Let him go and sulk elsewhere, over by the crannog...oh look! His head has rolled off!"

"Ah, the gods will be pleased."

Weekend Quickie 2 - Lunch with Austen

(image - Victorian women fight over a pair of breeches, element - a can of alphabet soup, emotion - elation)

"Lucy, trust you to only pack one pair of breeches."

Fanny stirred her alphabet soup with increasing irritation.

"Yes, Lucy. You know young Mr. Braithwaite would like to go riding this afternoon on the Downs. It's not sporting of you to not think of your other sisters in this matter."

Her mother also played with her soup and suprised herself.

"Oh I say, I've spelt 'cad'. Would you believe it?"

"How wonderful, mother! May I?"

Charlotte, the youngest of the siblings, reached over to admire her mother's soup.

"I'm sorry mother, I never thought to pack more than one pair."

"You did it in spite, Lucy! You know how much I'd like to ride with him."

"Looks like I get to ride with him...alone."

They sat in silence, spelling out words which appeared in their soup.

"It's only right you hand over those breeches."

"What? These?"

Lucy held up the aforementioned item and she jumped from the table, chased by her sisters. A playful, screaming fight broke out, with no outright winner.

"Girls! Please!"

Their mother's plea quietened them down.

"Oh my, that has brought on such...elation!"

"Yes."

"Let us try again."

"Oh, lets!"

And so they began yet again.

Weekend Quickie 3 - Three or more

(image - pink bird of paradise, element - snowglobe, emotion - Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia)

"I see you're back to your old snowglobe."

Doctor Fleur scratched some notes down on his pad.

"Yes, it helps in times of stress, you know that. It reminds me of when my Dad came home for Christ...mas."

He noticed Rik's twitch had come back.

"Only 3 syllables, Rik? Tell me, what happened?"

"I had to read my Mum's pres...medi..."

"Your mother is ill?"

"Yes, I had to read the back of her bottle."

"And..."

"Too many."

"Ah, yes, I see."

Rik suffered from Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia or Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia as they would say. His mother's prescribed medicine was always a constant threat.

"I'm almost calm now."

"Sure, go ahead, shake all you like. There's still some time left."

Doctor Fleur sat and waited, looking out of his window, sometimes admiring his new collection of framed birds of paradise he received as a gift from another patient.

"They're nice."

"Sorry?"

"I said, they're nice, doctor."

"Oh, the pictures? Yes, Birds of...birds."

"The pink one is very nice, the wings and all."

"Yes."

"But, you know, there's a flower called that."

"What? Pink bird of...yes, I believe I know that one. Isn't that Caesalpinia?"

"Ahh!"

Rik went straight back to shaking his snowglobe.

"Sorry."

Weekend Quickie 4 - Two-timing bitch

(image - hurricane off the south coast of the USA, element - Flora-Bama (bar), emotion - sugar-induced hysteria)

"Max, you gotta stay, just for a mo."

He was about to leave but John the barman grabbed him. To be honest, he couldn't watch his ex with her latest boyfriend any longer. Everyone else at the Flora-Bama Oyster Bar was having fun, except him. His ex-girlfriend was being extra-squeaky tonight, too.

"Why, John?"

"Something special."

John moved across the bar and put in a DVD.

"I don't do that Media class for nothing, Max. She deserves it, that two-timing bitch."

"What?"

John flicked over the channel on the bar's main screen so all could see.

"Newsflash. This has just come in. A hurricane has just appeared off the Alabama-Florida coastline. Residents are warned to stay indoors..."

The lights and power went out, followed by the windows and door opening with the force from a wind outside. Screams went up, especially Max's ex.

"What? What's going on?"

"Been filling her with extra-sweet Sangria's all night. Sugar-induced hysteria, they call it. Should kick in right about now."

"I don't..."

Before he could finish, Max watched as his ex-girlfriend ran from the bar, screaming and shouting.

"Got some of the lads to bring along their airboats. Great, huh?"

"Fantastic. Thanks."

"No problem."

Weekend Quickie 5 - Samples needed

(image - autumn, element - 1909 penny covered in Mars dust, emotion - d _éjà vu_ )

Autumn. Leaves fall, winds blow, all living things hide from the coming winter, but we sat on a park bench. Bunt surfed on a new android phone he'd taken from one unfortunate sample.

"Primitive, but they're getting there. Nice colour."

"Anything new?"

He did his usual searches, anything space or NASA-related. That was our job.

"Hey, this one's new, look."

A picture of a small dirty brown coin with Abraham Lincoln's bust popped up on the screen.

"What's that got to do with space?"

"That Curiosity contraption took it up to Mars as a calibration tool. That dirt, it's Mars dust."

"Ah. I feel a little d _éjà vu_ , I think."

"Hey?"

Bunt continued searching but found nothing more of interest.

"They still haven't sussed us yet."

"Good. Search for 'moon dust watch', will ya?"

"Sure, okay."

A few images came up and he clicked on one.

"Oh yeah. The things they do with dust, huh?"

"Thought I'd seen it all before. Just think, what would they do with our stuff if they ever found it?"

Bunt burst out laughing.

"What?"

"They'd probably sell it on eBay."

Another homo-sapien walked by.

"That one will do."

"Good. It's getting cold out here."

Weekend Quickie 6 - We're going to die

(image - white lizard, element - a can of pumpkin, emotion - bravado)

"We're going to die!"

After uncountable days in the desert, they'd found shelter in an abandoned trailer in the middle of nowhere filled with nothing but sand.

"Oh, don't talk such rot! I'm the greatest scavenger, I am! We're going to pull through!"

The idiot searched through the cupboards and boxes in the trailer, making more mess. It was his idea that they should escape from the prison and head in this direction.  
"We found shelter, now all we need is food...ah-ha! You see? I'm never wrong!"  
The guy held a large can, read the label, and threw it over to him.  
"It's...it's a can of pumpkin."

"Pumpkin, yes. For you. Not really my favourite."

"I'm allergic to squash. If I eat that, I'll die."

He threw it back.

"Waste not, want not."

The guy opened the can, took a huge gulp of pumpkin and spat it out in a flash.

"1946? A little bit past its sell-by date."

"I saw a white lizard outside as we came in. It might still be there."

"White lizard? Ah-ha! I'm the greatest hunter, I'll catch that for us, don't you worry!"

The idiot ran out into the sun.

"We're going to die..."

Weekend Quickie 7 - Grandma's favourite nephew

(image - Batman & Batgirl kissing, element - a cake walk, emotion - confusion)

Never get your Grandma to organise your birthday party. After the usual pass-the-parcel game, which of course her favourite nephew Bobby won and not me, the birthday boy, we're now playing something she calls the 'cake walk', some musical numbered square walking game they do in the local _fête_ every year. You get a cake if the number you're standing on is called out when the music stops. As if the superhero costumes fancy-dress wasn't enough!

But I've got a plan. I'm gonna beat her. When Grandma's 'favourite nephew' won the last game, Mary went and kissed him, which upset Bobby so much he threw off his Batman mask in disgust. I'm wearing a Batman costume, too, not so good as his, though, but I'm getting more glances and smiles from Grandma now I've switched our masks. Bobby didn't notice, either.

"Nine!"

"Yeah!"

Wayne got the cheese cake.

"Four!"

"Yippie!"

Bruce got the vanilla sponge cake. I want the chocolate cake, that's next. Grandma's looking in my direction.

"Twelve!"

"Yes!"

I got it! I got the cake!

"Oh, err, sorry, erm, my mistake..."

What?

"I meant..."

She's spotted him, damn!

"Twenty!"

"I won!"

Bobby's got the chocolate cake! How...? Wha...?

Weekend Quickie 8 - Dog in Snow

(image - snow-ridden road at night, element - a lost dog, emotion - incredulity)

"Trust Bono to go and get lost now!"

The snow had been coming down all day long, keeping them indoors with cabin fever. It wasn't a surprise when Bono their labrador jumped at the chance to escape as Justin opened the French windows to rescue one of his toys from the garden.

"You would've thought it'd be easy to find him, what with footprints in the snow and that."

"Paw prints. And no, it started snowing again after he got lost."

He'd changed to winter tyres only last week after watching the 10-day forecast predicting this. But the car slid around like a dodgem on grease.

"We going the right way?"

"There's only one way to go. Bono went this way, for sure."

They passed by another car struggling to move through the snow-ridden road.

"Whoa, that was close."

Suddenly he lost control of the steering wheel and the car followed the slope of the road. For five whole minutes they both sat and watched the world go by at two miles per hour as the car left the road, slid between trees and came to rest in a ditch.

"I just can't believe that."

"Me neither. Look, there's Bono."

Weekend Quickie 9 - Lifesaver

(image - Italian restaurant with family sitting outside, element - tangerine lifesaver, emotion - inspired creativity)

"Our customers, they say our toppings stink, Luigo!"

The whole family were out in front of the restaurant. It was a sunny afternoon but they should've been all working hard inside, serving customers, making money.

"I know."

"But our crust, our crust is the best in town!"

"A crust doesn't make a pizza, Grandpa."

"And you canna make a pizza, Mario!"

Grandpa smacked Mario around the head.

"When you gonna learn, boy? You go to waiting tables!"

"Then who will bake, Grandpa?"

"Anyone can bake, except..."

As Grandpa pointed towards Mario, he started choking, his face going even more red than usual, his lips turning purple. Mario was afraid to slap his Grandpa's back but he overcame his fear and gave him the hardest hit he could muster. The tangerine lifesaver Grandpa was sucking on flew out from his mouth and landed on the pavement right next to Luigo. It took a few seconds for the idea to appear in his mind.

"Grandpa! You're a genius!"

"I am?" Grandpa was trying to recover. "I am, yes. Why?"

"More crust! On the outside AND the inside! Come on, Mario, let's get in that kitchen and make history!"

And so they did.

Weekend Quickie 10 - Here comes the choo-choo train

(image - chocolate cake with '14' candles, element - a son or mother, emotion - extreme devotion)

"You're gonna regret ever crossing me!"

The warehouse echoed with his victim's whimpering, blood dripping from the man's tied wrists. Vince's soldiers stood nearby, waiting. Another entered through the sliding doors and ran over, catching his ear.

"Boss?"

"What? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"It's your mother, boss."

"My wha...oh Christ."

Vince saw her coming in, the small wrinkled little thing, carrying a large cake.

"Mother! What are you doing here? I told you I was busy."

"Busy, busy, you're always busy, no time for your dear old mother, eh, Vincent?"

She passed the cake to one of his soldier's and expected a kiss on the cheek. It came reluctantly.

"That's better. Now, Vincent, I've got you a cake."

"What for, mother?"

His victim spat some blood. Vince slapped him.

"Respect! This is my mother!"

"Sorry."

"Better. Mother, it's a birthday cake."

"And? You looked a little pale and thin this morning, I thought you needed something sweet."

She took out a knife and cut the cake.

"It's got candles on it, mother. I'm not 14."

"It's all I could get at the 24 hour. Open wide, dear!"

"Ah, mother!"

Vince opened his mouth.

"And here come's the choo-choo train!"

Weekend Quickie 11 - Just what did little Tim do?

(image - large turkey float in parade, element - a lava lamp, emotion - thankfulness)

There was something wrong with the picture. Standing with Tim in the middle of the crowd while watching a stupid-looking massive turkey go by on a float in the annual parade, I knew something was up. But I couldn't put my finger on it. Something didn't sit right...

As the floats continued going by, my body started sweating uncontrollably. Something wasn't right. I had the feeling to leave the throng of people and go straight home. Why? I had to get home but why?

With Tim in my arms I made the decision, but I had to set off on foot as there wasn't any public transport for the duration of the parade. What was bugging me? Had I forgotten something? Was it my mother's birthday? What was it?

When I entered the flat, pissed off that we'd missed the rest of the parade, I saw it. Tim loved my lava lamp. He could watch it for hours, but this morning he'd put it on the stove without me knowing to make the horrible stuff inside move around faster. Consciously knowing, that is. I ran to the kitchen and switched it off. Thank god for women's intuition. And that turkey.

Weekend Quickie 12 - Memories

(image - storm in the distance down a long road, element - musical notes, emotion \- a longing inspired by beauty, that you thought you'd overcome)

The radio played in the background as his partner yapped on about how he should do more about the house and fix the terrace so she could hold her afternoon social gatherings with the local bridge club and...he recognised the musical notes in the air, such beauty he had long forgotten. They swirled in his mind and brought back a time when his life had some meaning, a longing for beauty, for life, a longing for happiness and love. Mozart Symphony No. 4 in D Major. How had he remembered that?

"Are you listeing to me, Winston?"

"Yes, dear."

He tried to concentrate a little more on driving down this forever-ending road towards her relatives' house, but the music enveloped his mind once more and he lost all sense of reality, lost in the beauty of a time he wished back.

"Hey, Winston, Winston!"

"What?"

His partner's shout shook him and he awoke from his reminiscing. He hadn't noticed the sky turning black, the wind buffeting the car. He was driving right into a storm, and not just any storm, the largest he'd seen for a while.

Something about it was comforting, warm, beautiful...

"Winston!"

He put the radio up.

Weekend Quickie 13 - Revisited

(image - Melissani cave on Kefalonia, Greece, element - cyclorama, emotion - enchantment)

I know now we should have let him stay there, instead we thought only of ourselves, our own selfish lives, responsibilities and future schedules. We should have allowed him to pass away on Kefalonia, among the nymphs of Melissani cave.

"I'm back, Lucy, back!"

"Yes, father, you're back."

How could we have not foreseen this? Did we not see the new shine in his eyes while we were there for real, revisiting the place he had loved as a younger man full of vigor, strength and a lust for life?

"I can see them, Lucy. They are so...enchanting."

"Yes, father, yes, I see them."

Luckily Tom had taken a panoramic view of the cave and was able to have some custom wall-sized prints made up to fit the spare room. A few fake rocks, shells and a shallow tray of blue Mediterranean-looking water placed in the foreground made up the cyclorama. After one slow drive around the block, followed by a nap in the car, I was able to convince him that he was in the cave when he woke up.

"Oh Lucy, the nymphs, they are singing!"

"Yes, father."

He closed his eyes, leaving a smile on his face.

12 Days of Christmas (Weekend Quickie Special)

Part 1

(image - man jumping across train carriages, element - partridge in a pear tree, emotion - infinite possibility)

"Quick! Get him, before it's too late!"

Brad saw the attacker escaping from the carriage, holding a partridge?

"Are you okay?"

The attacker's victim brushed himself off.

"Don't worry about me! Worry about him! Him!"

"What?"

"If he finds a pear tree, we're all doomed!"

Brad showed the man his badge.

"Detective Brad Shaw. What is going on?"

"Infinite possibilities are within his grasp!"

The train rocked as another passed by.

"I don't understand."

"He stole the Device, and the partridge! He must be stopped!"

There was a scream and Brad ran into the next carriage. He saw the attacker leaving by a side window. A woman was standing there in a state of shock. Looking out, Brad saw a maintenance ladder which led up to the roof. In spite of himself, Brad followed, to see the man leaping from this carriage to the next. Once up on the roof, Brad noticed they were travelling through a large orchard...of pear trees.

"What is going on?"

He watched as the man, still holding the partridge, jumped from the train towards a pear tree. A strange portal opened up and the man disappeared. In a flash Brad jumped through the same portal.

Part 2

(image - woman blowing dust from her hands, element 1 - magic beans, element 2 - two turtle doves)

The first thing Brad saw was a woman. A nice looking woman, but she was covered in dust.

"Who are you, eh?"

"I...I've just come through some kind of wormhole."

She stared at Brad and shook her head.

"Next you'll be goin' on about magic beans and giants! Who the hell are you?"

The woman cleaned her jacket, bashing debris off herself and blowing dust from her hands.

"You'll be paying for that damage. You an' that other guy."

"Other guy?"

Brad got up and saw he was in an outhouse, now with a huge hole in the wall, in some country backyard.

"Where am I?"

"You're on my land, that's what!"

A loud fat man came into view, holding a shotgun.

"Detective Brad Shaw." He showed his badge. "I'm...I'm following a man."

"What, 'im? Oi! 'E's got two of my turtle doves!"

"Turtle doves?"

Brad saw the same man who'd jumped off the train leap over a large fence.

"My priced turtle doves! You! You're gonna pay for them!"

"Sure. But first I have to catch that man. Excuse me."

What was going on? Two turtle doves? A partridge? Did this man have something against birds? Brad gave chase.

Part 3

(image - old bottle with sample tag, emotion - anticipation, element - three french hens)

Brad ignored the shouts from behind and followed the strange man over fences, gates, fields and outdoor toilets. He finally got within earshot.

"Stop!"

He showed his badge once again but the man shrugged it off.

"No one can stop me."

The man grabbed three chickens from another yard.

"What are you doing? Why are you taking these birds?"

"Leave before I begin to care about your existence!"

"Are you making a bird stew?"

"A partridge in a pear tree, two turtle doves and three french hens! Can't you see the plumage? Lovely plumage..."

"Are you collecting for a school Christmas performance or what?"

The man took out an old bottle with a sample tag and held it to Brad.

"With this pus from her ganglion cyst which she saved in this here bottle, I will bring her back to life! Muhahaha!"

"Who? With pus?"

"Not just pus! With this device and the twelve elements of Babarossa from the ancient incantation of Babylon, she will once again be mine! I am in excited anticipation of her glorious return!"

"Who?"

The man hit a button on the device and disappeared through another portal. Brad had no other plans for the day.

# 
Part 4

(image - old man and woman sitting at an upright piano, emotion - euphoria, element - four colly birds)

He was lost with no sign of the man. If this followed the twelve days of Christmas, then four calling birds were next. Walking down an almost empty street full of terrace houses, he heard a piano playing. The sound was coming from a house with an open door. Whoever it was, they were playing that same song! Was this...? It had to be him! Brad ran into the house and there he was, playing an upright as bold as brass.

"I'm arresting you for the theft of...!"

"You know, we used to sit together playing the old upright piano...ah, it was euphoria to hear her play Rachmaninoff."

The man had four blackbirds in a cage next to him on the stool.

"I thought it was meant to be calling birds?"

"Four 'Colly' birds, blackbirds. Common mistake."

"You learn something every day. Now, you're under arrest for..."

The man turned and fired his device at Brad. Apparently it doubled as a weapon. He went down like a ton of bricks. As Brad lost consciousness on the carpet, he noticed the man continuously pressing a button on his device and swearing. The last thing Brad saw was the man running out.

# 
Part 5

(image - woman pushing a trolley/pram with twin boys and a christmas tree inside, emotion - an irresistible urge to disco, element - five gold rings)

"Are you alright, dear?"

Brad woke up to a cup of tea.

"Sure."

He sat up and took the drink. The old woman offered a plateful of biscuits.

"Are there any jewellers in the area?"

"Jewellers? Why yes, in the town centre. I took my pearl necklace there some months ago. Lovely man."

Feeling better for the tea, Brad said goodbye and once outside instantly tripped over a trolley filled with twin boys and a christmas tree. Other than the swearing from the mother, he heard a distant alarm. The jewellers. Reaching a pedestrianised square, he saw the place, with its alarm screaming above the door. The owner was there, doing the giddy-down and looking bemused and exhausted.

"Detective Shaw." Brad showed his badge. "What happened?"

"I was robbed by a guy who zapped me with a strange raygun. I now have an irresistible urge to disco."

The man changed to a bunny slope.

"He took five rings, right?"

"How did you know? Five gold rings. He could've taken it all."

Retro hustle.

Which way did he go?"

"That way."

Brad had to stop this before it went too far. He knocked the man out and ran after his prey.

Part 6

(image - giant hand picking up a car from a carpark, element 1 - Six Geese a Laying, who will only lay to the sound of ABBA, element 2 - Uncle Boom-Boom, your mother's sister's second husband)

The street led out to a riverbank frequented by OAPs on benches. A few of them looked shocked.

"Excuse have you...?"

They all pointed downriver, and Brad saw the man some distance ahead.

"You! Stop! Stop this nonsense now!"

The man turned to him and laughed. This was not the same man he saw playing the piano. Yes, he looked the same, but something had changed, something inside.

"Who's going to stop me? You and your Uncle Boom-Boom, your mother's sister's second husband? Muhahaha!"

The man was completely crazy!

Brad tried to grab him but he moved too fast. The crazy man hit something on his device and the man's hands grew to an immense size. Ignoring Brad's attempts at stopping him, he picked out six geese who were brooding on eggs in the reeds.

"I will take six geese and they will lay!"

He now danced a strange jig along the riverbank, while holding all six geese in one hand.

"Six geese a laying! Six geese a laying only to the sounds of ABBA!"

Before Brad could think, the man picked up a car from a nearby fisherman's carpark with his other enormous hand and threw it at him.

Part 7

(image - caravans in a 'spend the night party', emotion - a numinous feeling, element - seven swans a swimming)

The man threw like a girl. The car rolled into a nearby caravan park. A sign said 'Spend the Night Party 8pm start'. There'd be a few less tonight with the wreakage spread across the lot.

"Swans, swans, glorious swans!"

More buttons pressed, more insanity. The river rose like a large water snake, writhing in the air. Seven swams were on its surface. They tried to fly away but seemed stuck by some unseen force.

"Seven swans a swimming! Haha!"

Brad didn't see it coming. The river swayed behind and caught him in its wake and the force that held the swans also held Brad. Upside down. It didn't take long to start drowning. He panicked, his lungs emptied and he was helpless, all alone. A curious peace came over him, a numinous feeling, a feeling you get when you entered a church. Was this the afterlife? Was he dead?

A tree hit his head and somehow the force that held him disappeared and he dropped through the branches and leaves and fell onto the ground.

Rubbing his head, Brad knew a direct approach was not on the cards any longer. But he had to keep going, no matter what.

Part 8

(image - Santas wearing beards in a Santa school, emotion - Psithurism, element - eight maids-a-milking)

When he'd got to his feet, he was alone. All he could hear was the sound of the wind in the trees, the rustling of the leaves. Psithurism. Funny how certain words stuck in your head during literature classes. Brad enjoyed the brief moment until a cow broke the spell with a moo. Of course, eight maids-a-milking! There were farm buildings some distance away, and Brad got to them as fast as possible, only to be surprised by the sight he saw when entering a barn. Eight Asian girls with white beards sitting on stools and milking cows.

"What the...?"

"Help!"

Brad spotted the man in the back of the barn and hid in the shadows.

"Help, please! We au pairs. We from down woad, we help out Santa school. He take us and we milk cow."

Maids were far and few between nowadays. He had to give it to the man, au pairs were a sensible choice. Now, how to stop...too late, the crazy man had already opened another portal and the au pairs and cows were being sucked in. Oh, for a few moments to think! Brad grabbed hold of the last cow's tail and was taken through.

# 
Part 9

(image - lightning strikes on Bay Bridge, San Francisco, emotion - exhiliration, element - eight ladies dancing)

Lightning struck the bridge across the bay. Where was he? When following the man through the portal there was no way of knowing where he'd find himself. San Francisco? Did he catch a glimpse of the Golden Gate far off to the north?

"Ha ha! I feel the exhilaration of victory! Soon she will be mine again!"

The madman was oblivious to the world, with his huge hands helping him leapfrog along the bridge and leaving Brad behind.

Brad kept to a steady jog and followed the long line of stunned pedestrians and motorists he found. Resting to catch his breath, he saw men being thrown out of a nightclub. That must be it. As he opened the doors, screams filled the place. There was chaos inside as people scambled to escape. In the centre of the dancefloor, his man was surrounded by a group of dancing woman. Nine ladies dancing. Time was running out. What was it the first man said? 'We're all doomed, infinite possibilities are within his grasp'. What did that mean? Why were we all doomed if this man succeeded? A portal opened up again, and the dancefloor was empty. Brad jumped into the closing dimension.

Part 10

(image - night sky with stars and a church, emotion - wonder inspired by a miracle, element - ten lords a leaping)

He lay on the heath under the night sky among the stars and near an abandoned church, now only a remnant of what it once was. To his right was a mansion, with its windows lit up by the party inside. He didn't need to count how many lords there were, he already knew. Ten lords a leaping, jumping across the long table in the lavish dining room, singing and drinking to the music inside. The crazy man was with them, dancing and laughing, so close to his goal. Brad turned back to the stars.

What was the point? In only hours, Brad's sense of reality, right and wrong, had been blown out of all proportion. Was he doing the right thing? Did he care anymore? With all the insanity he'd seen and experienced, was it worth continuing on with this wild goose chase, literally, or any other come to think of it? As he gazed on looking up at the sky, three green shooting stars swooped by. For a moment, it was like he had been inspired by a miracle, the wonder of the universe, in all its entirety and infinite possibilities. He knew what he had to do.

Part 11

(image - girl and boy kneeling in front of Christmas fireplace, emotion - joy and anticipation, element - eleven pipers piping)

The front door was wide open and the music spread out into the darkness. Brad ran inside, not wishing to miss the next move. On entering the dining room, he saw the lords a leaping, and also the source of the music. Bagpipes, eleven pipers piping.

Brad hid behind a chair as the crazy man danced on the table.

"Soon! Soon, I will see her again!"

Yet more of his ramblings!

"Oh, Daphne! To hear your voice once more, to play as we once played together!"

The crazy man stopped dancing and his attention was taken by the great fireplace covered in Christmas decorations and stockings.

"We used to kneel by the fire in joy and anticipation of the morning to come, our Christmas morning. The presents, the chestnuts! Oh, I miss you so, my dear darling sister!"

This man was doing all this for his sister? They must've had a strong bond, Brad guessed. Through instinct, he thought about taking the man by force though stopped when he saw the hands. He knew what he should do.

But once again, the man pressed more buttons on that damn device and a portal appeared. Brad had only one chance left.

Part 12

(image - people in church at the Midnight Mass, emotion - the peace that passeth all understanding, element - twelve drummers drumming)

It was all there at the Midnight Mass, the partridge in a pear tree, the doves, hens, lords, maids, everything and everyone. The church was full of people. The final piece to the puzzle, twelve drummers drumming, a group of children from the local school, were making one hell of a racket performing. The crazy man with huge hands was standing nearby, watching a light in front of him grow larger and larger. The image of a woman appeared and was beginning to solidify.

Then it happened. The roof disappeared, the sky opened up, lightning struck, thunder, torrential rain, snow, fish, locusts, cats and dogs. People screamed and ran. Brad was reminded of the premonition of doom.

Brad acted quickly. He jumped in amongst the twelve children, found a pair of bongos and sat down. Anyone can play the bongos. Brad caught onto the rhythm and was playing along with them in seconds.

"Oh, my darling, my lov...what! What is this?"

The woman faded, the skies cleared, snow fell. The clock struck midnight.

"What?"

The man saw Brad.

"You! I'll...!"

Brad felt the peace that passeth all understanding as the man strangled him.

"And a Merry Christmas to you, too."

Weekend Quickie 16 - Nicked in time

(image - typewriter, element 1 - "Some people could look at a mud puddle and see an ocean with ships." Zora Neale Hurston, element 2 - 365 days)

365 days. Three hundred and sixty five days and he couldn't do it.

"Just write something, we'll publish it for you, make you a star, a career," said his friend at the publishing company.

And now was the last day.

Zora Neale Hurston once wrote "Some people could look at a mud puddle and see an ocean with ships." He saw nothing. All his life he'd wanted to be a writer and now he'd blown his chance. He hadn't a creative bone in his body.

There was a knock. He moved himself away from his unused typewriter and went to the door. It was the man from downstairs.

"Hello."

"Hi, err, I'm a little busy right now..."

"Sorry, sorry, but I heard that you were a writer?"

He stopped himself from closing the door.

"Yes, I, err, yes, I'm a writer."

"Well, I know it's a bit of a nuisance for you, but could you do me a big favour and have a look at my old manuscript? I've been working on it for over ten years now and I'd like someone with an eye for these things to peruse it, so to speak."

"Why, of course, I'd be delighted..."

#

Weekend Quickie 17 - For Love

(image - Aurora Borealis, element - Halcyon (bird), emotion - distraction)

He watched as the Aurora Borealis lit up the night sky. How insignificant he felt, in this infinite universe. Was his uncle really correct? Did it all matter? Were human morals and social constraints meaningless?

"But uncle, what would the neighbours say?"

"I don't have any neighbours, dear boy. And I don't see what all the fuss is about. I love all my works of art, as you know, and this would be no different."

His uncle's trailer was filled with stuffed animals, from dogs and cats, a fox, a squirrel, some strange looking marsupials posted over to him from an Australian relative - the postman gave those packages a curious glance - and his pride and joy, a Halcyon, a type of kingfisher he'd hit with his Landrover on the 'can-never-be-forgotten' African expedition. His uncle wanted a lion but couldn't get anyone to bag him one. So the poor roadkill became the taxidermist's African prize.

"But uncle..."

"I loved her. Why can't I turn her into a work of art?"

"Because it's wrong, uncle, so wrong!"

"Oh, you will send me to distraction, dear boy!"

His uncle stroked her hair.

"Why can't you just bury her like everyone else?"

Weekend Quickie 18 - Exquisite pain

(image - man and woman making a large sailing boat indoors, element - a birthday wish, emotion \- a feeling of "la douleur exquise")

He thought that hiding himself indoors for a few weeks, making a 7 foot sailing boat would keep his mind off her, but he'd forgotten about his birthday. She'd never miss that. Since his brother was being held captive by Taliban terrorists they'd spent a lot of time together.

"Can you just hold this line?"

"Sure."

Everything she did now drove him crazy: smiling, sitting, holding string, speaking, listening, flicking her hair, anything. Why did he have to fall in love with someone he couldn't have? Admittedly, there were few girls on the island, but your brother's wife?

"Happy Birthday!"

She laughed and passed him a small flat present, presumably a book.

"Thank you."

He tried to hide his pain.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

"It's...it's your copy of Shakespeare's Sonnets, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. You said you'd love to read it, so..."

Another laugh, another stabbing wound to his suffering heart.

"I see you have a cake."

"Yes, mother brought it over earlier."

"What did you wish for?"

"If I tell you, it won't come true."

"Yes, I guess so."

She looked over at the photo of his brother, her husband, on the mantelpiece and started crying.

Weekend Quickie 19 - Cowboy Frolics

(image - cars in the parking lot of Gruene Hall, Texas, element - the lyric from "Ramblin' Man", by the Allman Brothers "...And I was born in the back seat of a Greyhound bus, Rollin' down highway 41″, emotion - acquiescence)

Randy lent against the open door of his Dodge pickup truck with the 40 watt double bass stereo system blaring out "Ramblin' Man" by the Allman Brothers. He sang a few lines as he waited for Scott in the Gruene Hall's parking lot.

"...And I was born in the back seat of a Greyhound bus, rollin' down highway 41...″

Scott swaggered over and stood there, legs apart, staring him down.

"If I remember right, you were born in yer Mami's backyard, with a shovel up yer arse and a greasy rag for a diaper."

"You got what ya wanted earlier, now why d'ya call me here?"

"I want that too, for the whole weekend."

Scott pointed at Randy's Dodge, his pride and joy. What could he do except step aside in silent acquiescence?

"Thanks, 'Buddy'. Keys in the ignition?"

Randy nodded. Scott opened the glove compartment and cleaned his Cuban heeled cowboy boots with Randy's chamois, smiling triumphantly. Straightening his Stetson in the side mirror, he closed the door and started the Dodge.

"Now, boy I'll have this right back after I'm done. Don't yer worry about a thing. And Randy? You know now that I always go on top."

Weekend Quickie 20 - Naughty Mrs. Mibbley

(image - trapdoor under carpets at the bottom of oak staircase, element - lavender, emotion - a feeling of incongruity)

Shaw waited for the doctor to come down from the bedroom. It was a simple case, only paperwork needed for this one. The constable had driven him over from the station.

"There's something wrong with this picture."

"What, this picture, sir?"

The constable pointed to the Brueghel hanging on the wall.

"No, the whole picture, the hallway. There's something not right here."

The doctor walked down the large staircase, holding onto the polished oak rail at every step.

"Well, I'm all done here, Inspector. Died in her sleep, the poor thing."

"Okay, Doc. I'll put that in my report. Could you come and look at this, please?"

They stood there, all three, looking at the large staircase from the front door.

"Sorry, Inspector, but what are we looking at?"'

"I have a feeling of incongruity about all this, the placing of the furniture, the carpets. And all that lavender?"

"Yes, she loved lavender, dear poor old Mrs. Mibbley, God rest her soul. Did a lot of flower arranging for the church. Always used lavender."

Shaw bent down and removed the Persian rugs to reveal a trapdoor.

"So, did Mrs. Mibbley like a little something extra with her tea and biscuits?"

Weekend Quickie 21 - The Power of Love

(image - a forest, element - a portent that provokes fear, emotion - infatuation)

Somewhere, they must be somewhere! He ran through the lush green undergrowth of the forest, searching, hoping. If only he could...a rook cawed deep in the forest. A sign of impending doom! He began to sweat not only in exhaustion but also fear, the adrenalin racing through his body. He saw dark foreboding shadows rushing between the trees. Were they real? No matter, he didn't care! Come hell or high water he had to complete this task, for her, for the one! To hold her, to have her as his own! They said he'd been taken over by an infatuation, like a disease but she was his life, his love! Every living moment he could think of no one else but her! Tripping over a thornbush, he lost a shoe but he could not stop! He had to find them! He tried to remember, retrace his steps...there! He had passed this way earlier! Yes! There they were! He picked them up and ran back from whence he came. Running through the trees, ignoring sounds, visions, all distractions, no matter how frightening! He was back to the road and turned the keys in the door.

"I'm back." He kissed the dashboard.

Weekend Quickie 22 - The urge to tell

(image - girl bouncing along on a space hopper on an empty highway, element - just brewed coffee, emotion - the urge to tell a secret)

My mind geared up with the freshly brewed morning coffee as I realised the quietness in the house. Deathly quiet.

"Maddy?"

I told her the secret last night. I had to, she bullied it out of me with her pleading and whining. John had left for the airport a day before and Pappy lived over ten kilometres away, so I had no worries she would tell. Or did I?

"Maddy!"

An empty house. So, she'd gone to tell Pappy. But how? Her punctured bike lay in the garage and she hated walking. One look around and I realised she'd taken...the space hopper.

I climbed into the car and sped down the road towards Pappy's. Over ten kilometres on a space hopper? I passed by a few cars going the other way until I spotted something ahead. I couldn't believe my eyes. Some way in front, a long-haired Maddy bounded along on a red sphere of rubber.

I stopped the car on the hard shoulder and watched her go, making distance along the almost empty highway wearing only her morning tights and slippers, the urge to tell stronger than the need to dress. I gave up the chase, she deserved it.

Weekend Quickie 23 - Artistic Ideal

(image - artist's studio, element - newborn baby, emotion - fascination)

Just any nude was no longer enough. The more she concentrated on her subjects, the more she noticed the imbalance of colours, blemishes, the asymmetry and texture of skin and bone. Subjects came and went, each more grotesque than the ones before. Her fascination for perfection and absolute beauty finally drew her closer to her own artistic ideal. She no longer cared for society's norms or expectations, her subjects growing younger and younger, her reputation preceding her. Some were plucked from the street, while others found her.

This time, however, she was sure she'd found perfection. With every stroke of the brush her canvas came to life, the smooth texture, the facial symmetry and glowing colours, the roundness of...

"This is the Police! Open the door!"

The shout shook her from her dream.

"Open the door! Please!" screamed a frightened woman.

She paused and looked over at her subject. A newborn baby girl was sitting quite still on the background setting of a long flowing piece of white silk.

"Madam! Please open the door or we shall have to force our way in!"

She dropped her palette, the paints mingling together on the wooden floor.

"Oh, what have I done..."

Killing Brian - Cannibalising Brian (excerpt from 'How to')

"What do we do now? Go explain what happened to the chief?"

"No, it's best if we keep it quiet for now. We still have some meat left, see?"

"Oh, yes."

They both went over to the cauldron, and saw Brian happily splashing in the soup, pouring vegetables over himself.

"Hello boys! Oh, I'm so happy I could be a part of this! It's wonderful to know that my death will be of use to someone else's nourishment, and in such a great soup! Oh, if only my grandchildren could see....me..."

His last few words were lost in a mass of bubbles as Brian Rogers was pushed under the surface of the soup with two very large poles.

Relay Event T1 (Part 10)

(word given - razored, 100 words limit)

Was this one weakness, one fact, perchance, my inch of opportunity, my path to destiny? Was this one flaw in the dragon's mantle my chance to right the wrongs which my King hath done? With all the courage and experience of my many years in this one foolish life, I stood tall, sword erect, and called to the dragon.  
"Hathore, if that may be your name! Hathore, dragon among dragons, skillful in smelling abusers of women, I call upon you today to hear me! Hear me, I COMMAND you!" The tongue, once slithering along its razored claws, halted, then disappeared.

Relay Event T2 (Part 1) - 'The Pink Pineapple'

(150 words limit)

Nothing worked. The dreary comedy on cable, some cool JAZZ music on his 4 track, the book he'd bought months ago from the Antiquarium because he loved the cover but hadn't had time to read. He still had that feeling. Something wasn't right. Pouring a brandy, he watched the seconds hand on his kitchen clock. Somewhere something...his mobile phone rang. It was an unknown number, landline. He picked it up and stared out through his lounge window into the night, overlooking the flats opposite.

"Hello, Todd here."

"Mr. Lehr, I think I may have something which would INTEREST you."

The voice on the other end wasn't familiar, in fact it sounded alien, like some voice effect was being used.

"Who is this?"

He was sure the voice sniggered hoarsely, away from their handset.

"That is not important. What is, however, is what I am about to say."

Todd listened intently.

List of elements for Challenges 27-52 (including Grudge Matches 1-4 and the Autumn & Winter Solstice Opens) and Weekend Quickies 1-23

27 - Millennium Falcon, GI Joe Action figures, waffle iron, Slim Whitman

28 - goat powered washing machine, petri dish, fried green tomatos, menacing stranger

29 - Nummo the alien, banana slippers, a cricket ball, an Elementary School spelling bee

30 - Pareidolia, jousting female knight, feather boa, bag of doorknobs

31 - live Griffin, peanut butter and banana sandwich, ventriloquist, Delorean

32 - centaur, megalomaniac, the oracle of all knowledge, abandoned outhouse

Autumn Equinox Open Elimination Round - balloon animals, Lydia the tattooed lady, tontine Centre Court Wimbledon

Autumn Equinox Open Final - Sadomasochistic Machiavellinism, tatting shuttles, rickshaw, bagpipes

33 - Leviathan, any George Formby song, jar of bacon fat, necklace

34 - Dressed herring, tuba, space station, phone booth

Grudge Match 1 \- murderous unicorn, The Apollo Lunar Roving Vehicle, A fantasy football draft must be a part of the main scene of the story, The story must be written from the POV of someone with a mental illness or developmental delay

35 - Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, Twister (the game), hot air balloon, fishnet stockings

36 - 12 sweaty Sumo wrestlers, indestructible filing cabinet, wooden hanger, Big Wheel (tricycle)

37 - Perry Mason, The Lone Ranger, Daisy Duke, The Bionic Woman

38 - Roman Merchant Sailing Vessel, flour sack girdle, Bunny, the wonder elephant, The Royal Shakespearian Company

39 - can of Campbell's Alphabet Soup, the phrase "Live long and Prosper", 2000 year old Map of the Earth, empty Snuff Box

40 - Kahlúa, motherboard, told from the POV of a shark looking for a meal, must be written in 'Terza Rima'

41 - the Antikythera Mechanism, voodoo witch doctor, Kryptonite, Houndstooth shoes

42 - supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, buried silver julep cup, there must be two main characters and one must be responsible for the death of the other, synchronous fireflies (photinus carolinus)

43 - Voyager Spacecraft (satellite), female MMA fighter, needle and thread, 10′ long, 12″ diameter PVC pipe

44 - child's wagon, bug zapper, cranberries, faded dragon slayer manual

45 - judge, victim, liberal, conservative

46 - haboob, high diving horse, Birmingham Jail song, Yves Rossy, the Jetman

47 - The Golden Fleece, A Mudskipper, James Bond Mini Spy Kit, A rhinestone Tiara

48 - Mati Hari, toilet roll hat, single roller skate, house plant

49 - muppet, escalator, stop sign, any 1970s book

50 - snow rollers, harpy, nail gun, motorcycle airbag

51 - no 'to be' verbs, dying in a dream, "Punch and Judy" - it can either be a literal use of a Punch and Judy show, or an interpretation based on the common storyline of your typical Punch and Judy show, one of your characters must have a secret crush

52 - how you would quit your job, the scent of rain, Kiwi bird, Joan of Arc)

Weekend Quickie 1 - image - burning wicker man, element - applesauce, emotion - abject despair

Weekend Quickie 2 - image - Victorian women fight over a pair of breeches, element \- a can of alphabet soup, emotion - elation

Weekend Quickie 3 - image - pink bird of paradise, element - snowglobe, emotion - Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia

Weekend Quickie 4 - image - hurricane off the south coast of the USA, element - Flora-Bama (bar), emotion - sugar-induced hysteria

Weekend Quickie 5 - image - autumn, element - 1909 penny covered in Mars dust, emotion - d _éjà vu_

Weekend Quickie 6 - image - white lizard, element - a can of pumpkin, emotion - bravado

Weekend Quickie 7 - image - Batman & Batgirl kissing, element - a cake walk, emotion - confusion

Weekend Quickie 8 - image - snow-ridden road at night, element - a lost dog, emotion - incredulity

Weekend Quickie 9 - image - Italian restaurant with family sitting outside, element \- tangerine lifesaver, emotion - inspired creativity

Weekend Quickie 10 - image - chocolate cake with '14' candles, element - a son or mother, emotion - extreme devotion

Weekend Quickie 11 - image - large turkey float in parade, element - a lava lamp, emotion - thankfulness

Weekend Quickie 12 - image - storm in the distance down a long road, element - musical notes, emotion - a longing inspired by beauty, that you thought you'd overcome

Weekend Quickie 13 - image - Melissani cave on Kefalonia, Greece, element - cyclorama, emotion - enchantment

12 Days of Christmas (WQ special) - Part 1 - image - man jumping across train carriages, element - partridge in a pear tree, emotion - infinite possibility

12 Days of Christmas (WQ special) - Part 2 - image - woman blowing dust from her hands, element 1 - magic beans, element 2 - two turtle doves

12 Days of Christmas (WQ special) - Part 3 - image - old bottle with sample tag, emotion - anticipation, element - three french hens

12 Days of Christmas (WQ special) - Part 4 - image - old man and woman sitting at an upright piano, emotion - euphoria, element - four colly birds

12 Days of Christmas (WQ special) - Part 5 - image - woman pushing a trolley/pram with twin boys and a christmas tree inside, emotion - an irresistible urge to disco, element - five gold rings

12 Days of Christmas (WQ special) - Part 6 - image - giant hand picking up a car from a carpark, element 1 - Six Geese a Laying, who will only lay to the sound of ABBA, element 2 - Uncle Boom-Boom, your mother's sister's second husband

12 Days of Christmas (WQ special) - Part 7 - image - caravans in a 'spend the night party', emotion - a numinous feeling, element - seven swans a swimming

12 Days of Christmas (WQ special) - Part 8 - image - Santas wearing beards in a Santa school, emotion - Psithurism, element - eight maids-a-milking

12 Days of Christmas (WQ special) - Part 9 - image - lightning strikes on Bay Bridge, San Francisco, emotion - exhiliration, element - eight ladies dancing

12 Days of Christmas (WQ special) - Part 10 - image - night sky with stars and a church, emotion - wonder inspired by a miracle, element - ten lords a leaping

12 Days of Christmas (WQ special) - Part 11 - image - girl and boy kneeling in front of Christmas fireplace, emotion - joy and anticipation, element - eleven pipers piping

12 Days of Christmas (WQ special) - Part 12 - image - people in church at the Midnight Mass, emotion - the peace that passeth all understanding, element - twelve drummers drumming

(no Weekend Quickie 14 and 15 - taken by Christmas special)

Weekend Quickie 16 - image - typewriter, element 1 - "Some people could look at a mud puddle and see an ocean with ships." Zora Neale Hurston, element 2 - 365 days

Weekend Quickie 17 - image - Aurora Borealis, element - Halcyon (bird), emotion - distraction

Weekend Quickie 18 - image - man and woman making a large sailing boat indoors, element - a birthday wish, emotion - a feeling of "la douleur exquise"

Weekend Quickie 19 - image - cars in the parking lot of Gruene Hall, Texas, element \- the lyric from "Ramblin' Man", by the Allman Brothers "...And I was born in the back seat of a Greyhound bus, Rollin' down highway 41″, emotion - acquiescence

Weekend Quickie 20 - image - trapdoor under carpets at the bottom of oak staircase, element - lavender, emotion - a feeling of incongruity

Weekend Quickie 21 - image - a forest, element - a portent that provokes fear, emotion - infatuation

Weekend Quickie 22 - image - girl bouncing along on a space hopper on an empty highway, element - just brewed coffee, emotion - the urge to tell a secret

Weekend Quickie 23 - image - artist's studio, element - newborn baby, emotion - fascination

Other work by Dani J Caile

'Dani's Shorts' (Volume 1)

'Dani's Shorts' is a collection of 500 word short stories based on the elements given in the Iron Writer Challenge. These 28 short stories show a range of Dani's favourite writing styles, including pair dialogues, internal thoughts and sardonic parodies.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/351327

"I hope you find the stories creative, serious, humorous, filled with pointless nonsense and poignant emotions. I hope you get angry, I hope you laugh, I hope you cry. I hope you share this work with everyone you know. Isn't that what good writing is for?"

B Y Rogers (The Iron Writer Challenge)

If you are 'up to the Challenge', then go to...

http://theironwriter.com/

...the 1st book ...

'Man by a tree'

Take a devilish romp through a world of death, where souls pay for experiences, monkeys are the hosts, and Reginald is the service provider.

Reginald has been in control for millennia. With His staff of hundreds, and millions of souls passing through to experience the delights of physicality, his reign has become complacent. His servants, Satan and Lucifer, jump at the chance to take what they see as rightfully theirs.

The Grim Reaper, or Graham Reader as he calls himself, has been doing his job of transporting souls ever since he can remember to gain his wings. But he has become tainted by the actions of the monkeys living on the planet. Unbeknown to him, a plan is afoot to change the status quo of 'up above' and 'down below', where he is a linchpin to both interested parties.

"Sharp, dark and sardonic are rarely found wrapped in single package" Greg Levin (Notes on an Orange Burial)

<https://www.createspace.com/3731273>

...the 2nd book ...

'The Bethlehem Fiasco'

With only one sane man in the desert, can the answers he seeks be found? Or will it be the death of him?

In a time when hobgoblins and angels run amok, can the universe survive the petty struggles of the powers that be? Based on as yet unreleased papyrus scriptures found in a 2nd floor bedsit in Lewisham, England, this is the 'true' story of one man.

"Irreverent, quirky and fun" Fredrik Nath (The Cyclist)

"...a light and breezy read..." Iso Nuys (Paid on Return)

"I loved it!" Dave Tarragon (The Chemo Diaries)

<https://www.createspace.com/3783797>

...the 3rd ...

'The Rage of Atlantis'

Bombs, angels, dolphins, hobgoblins, crazy monkeys, Reginald in a rage, Satan on the toilet...all mixed with absurdly serious issues.

Will a selfish plan for immortality destroy the human race? Or will there be light 'beyond' the end of the tunnel?

High Chief of Security Sipho, with his female dolphin sidekick Kang Dee, investigates the latest in a long line of terrorist attacks by the 'unseen' against Atlantis, the utopian gem of the physical universe, and finds more than he could have ever imagined.

"If you loved Douglas Adams, then you're bound to love Dani J. Caile!" Jasper T. Scott (Escape, Dark Space)

"Hilarious" Eponymous Rex (B.O.T.)

"Flash Gordon meets Water-world" Karen Bates (Faking it in France)

https://www.createspace.com/3845760

...the 4th ...

'Manna-X'

Reginald sends Graham Reader (aka the Grim Reaper), out on a mission to find Code 237-Manna-X, the Manna Machine after the Overlords warn him of an imminent (3000 year old) threat against the security of both the physical and non-physical realms.

Will Graham find the fantastic yet deadly device before anyone or anything else does?

"I haven't come across anything quite like this..." Debbie Roxburgh (Speedy McCready)

"With your wily work [Dani], I tend to focus on what's in parentheses. (I also think you are very misunderstood...and possibly always have been.)" Eponymous Rox (B.O.T.)

"Manna-X is one roar of laughter after the next!" Jasper T. Scott (Escape, Dark Space)

https://www.createspace.com/4151484

...and also another small freebie...

'TDX2'

(Too Dull to Die)

Guido's dead, but he hasn't lived yet. Will he get a second chance? Or will Satan have his evil way?

Dull Guido has kept himself out of trouble (and life) for 34 years 5 months and 14 days, only to die on the night before he finally has his first big adventure, a world cruise. Graham Reader, the Grim Reaper, tries to help him navigate the world 'up above', only for Guido to find out that there are worse things than death - Satan's tool cupboard.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/273975

And remember, if you are 'up to the Challenge', then go to...

http://theironwriter.com/

