Startled guy

Cylon head

Bertie the Muppet

Creative doormat

Dedicated to Em, the inspiration for this unusual effort.



(Damn, I just realised I forgot to add a beret. Oh well, I'm sure the cliche is clear anyway).

Shenanigans TV

Here's a picture I drew a while ago, which was going to be used as the on-air logo for Shenanigans TV. Uncharacteristically, we didn't follow through on creating our media empire, and so this picture never got air time.

Bravo, gumby crimelord

["This is just a title in search of a story, isn't it?" the narrator asked himself.

"What do you think all these blog entries are?" he replied.

"Self referentialism is so 1992," he dismissed himself, "Get on with a story!"]

The balding tyres squealed in agony as Bravo arced through the intersection, sirens close behind.

These pigs ain't gonna catch me! he thought to himself in cliched gangster.

A surprisingly dull high-speed chase later, Bravo sat relaxing in his club, the sounds of pursuit receding rapidly into the distance.

Aah, a job well done, Bravo was congratulated by his own mind.

THE END

No more excuses

I've just dumped into this blog the remainder of my pre-existing SSS's, which I'd been parcelling out as if making new stuff on a regular basis.

Thanks to Liv for letting me get away with using a back catalogue, largely hers, as my pretence of creativity, but now I have to write some new ones!

Fish and their Mums

"Where do you think you're going?" questioned Marvin's Mum.

"Out." replied Marvin simply.

"Well that's all right then." continued Marvin's Mum.

"Good." said monosyllabic Marvin.

So Marvin proceeded to flap (or flip, depending on your viewpoint) his tail, and swim out into the calm blue ocean.

"Byeee!!!" called Marvin's Mum in his wake.

"Bye Mum!!!" shouted Marvin back.

THE END

Quintessence

Rapidly the platoon floated whimsically upon the rancid ovoid transport, vapidly pillorying their intransigent neighbours - the Smiths - as was their wont.

"Oh happy day!" warbled Willy Warbler the Warbler.

Spotting his unctuous perfidity, the leopard leapt upon him, besetting him with spots.

Such is the cruelty of nature.

THE END

Frink the dog

"When travelling sideways through the blank letterbox of time, it is often necessary to finagle the balance of your hedge against some other tree trunk, in order to ensure you are categorised adequately in the case of a merciless catharsis."

Frink yawned, as he often did during Dr Rutabaga's hyper-convoluted visionary lectures, and was surprised when an episodic caveman ran juggling through the boudoir located beside him (logically speaking - the boudoir was actually in 18th Century France, where it belonged).

Dr Rutabaga grinned a self-satisfied grin at Frink's surprise,

"If you had been listening to the crap I've been spouting the past six hours, that event would have enlightened, rather than surprised, you."

"Touche" replied Frink, as he peed on a nearby fire hydrant.

THE END

Sedentary Nature

"Stop sitting there!" quailed the ornamental, oriental, accidental pudding.

"But that's what I do!" expectorated Nature.

THE END

Whiney Worry Wart

“Wiggle wiggle,” whispered Whiney with wiles.

“Wander wonderful.” wangled Worry worrisomely.

“Whatever!” weplied Wart.

THE END

Razzle and then some

Cleveland was cool this time of year. Well, cool in a stupefyingly, stultefyingly humid and intensely, inspirationally HOT kind of way. Which was why Horace had decided that this was the way it had to be. For all time.

THE END

Bink-a-tonk-hoy

“Splatter!” spluttered Splitter Splotter.

THE END

Mark my words

"Oh dear!" wailed Finnegan morosely.

He had long since given up on receiving his annual cucumber disbursement and had been planning on getting a good deal on black-market squash instead. However, that rapscallion Grimley had snaffled up the entire local supply and it was looking like a long, squashless winter.

Meanwhile, Grimley began putting his secret army of animated squash to work - on nothing less a task than taking over the world!

Squashina didn't think much of life as a soldier in Grimley's militia, and had her own plans to foil Grimley's dastardly plot. These plans, though, will not be revealed until the next instalment : "Figure of speech"...

THE END

Martini

"Pickles McLachlan here, Sir. I just received your call."

"Good, Pickles. We need your special talents down here immediately."

"I'm on my way!"

A hasty taxi ride, a short pogo stick romp and an interminable jog had Pickles at the crime scene within days. By the time he arrived, everyone had left the area and, in fact, the crime had been solved. It had been under the washing machine the whole time!

An hour later, Pickles sat in the Rusty Smog, his favourite all-you-can-eat restaurant, sipping a martini out of a bucket.

THE END

Sorghum pasties

Greg wasn't achieving much with the mortar and pestle as he viciously, sickeningly wrenched the green goo from its antithetic hiding place. He continued trying, nonetheless. It wasn't so much the frying as the ketchup that bothered him. His Aunt Theba had said there'd be blue pants like these, though, so he was reasonably well prepared. Except for the lumpy grenade, but that turned out to be porridge, in any case, so won't be mentioned here.

"Augur well!!!" wailed the field of pasties (so it sounded more like "Auuugur weeeeellll !!!", but that was probably obvious, so I'm just irritating you with this exposition. I can stop it if you like... Oh, you would?... Fair enough). Enormous egg-like explosions garnished the pasties with sorghum, as they slowly died, gasping, gasping, recovering a little, wheezing, snorkelling and, finally, breathing their last.

Cement Cadillac

"Oooh... aren't we the clever one!" shouted Mandy, very sarcastically.

"Shut up!" screeched Sam distractedly, as a large volume of cement poured steadily into the passenger seat of his Cadillac.

Norghul, the gramlak, thought this was very entertaining behaviour, until his Cadillac passenger seat began similarly filling with cement. Which made Joe laugh, up to the point when the cement covered his head, sitting in Norghul's passenger seat as he was.

THE END

Where Oh where?

“OK, where do you want this?” wheezed the conspiratorial handbag.

“Over by the fastening, behind the lizard.” replied mysterious-figure-numero-uno.

“Sure thing boyo!”

“That’s Boy Oh to you!”

THE END

Edgo the hippo

Edgo manfully (well, hippofully, since he's not a man) shifted the filing cabinet, revealing the faded, tattered slip of paper which had fallen to the floor and been blown underneath the cabinet by a mysterious gust of otherworldly wind.

[The narrator pauses to gulp for air after that overlong sentence].

When Edgo tried to stand up straight, though, he found his back disagreed strongly with the concept of straightening. He called immediately for his three monkey masseurs.

[A two hour massage session later].

"There. That's better," sighed Edgo as he slumped into his heavily reinforced recliner. "Now where was I?"

[Edgo was dead soon after, his absent-mindedness and tendency to amnesia making him easy pickings for a disgruntled hyena who Edgo had helped send to prison].

THE END

Erstwhile entropy

"Howdy pardner!" shouted the Cockney cowboy.

"Shhhhh... There're dinosaurs around," whispered Franky.

"What's a dinosaur?!?" questioned Bill (the cowboy), loudly.

"I'M A DINOSAUR!!!" growled a tiny ornithosaurus, as it bit into Bill's leg.

"Yowee!!!" yowled Bill.

Then, thankfully, the universe collapsed under its own entropy, allowing an escape from this tale of cowboys, dinosaurs and Franky.

THE END

Tomatoes are people too

Farouk screamed. It was a surprisingly high-pitched scream for such a large man. Why was he screaming? The answer to this question is not readily apparent. For the answer we need to go back to a time when Farouk was 20 years younger than he is now. A time 20 years ago. That means that if the year is now 2000 (which it is) that we are now going to have a look at 1980. Or thereabouts.

The year: 1980. The place: Farouk's local fruit stall. The fruit: a tomato. As Farouk lifted the tomato, it screamed. A high, keening wail.

"What's wrong, Mr.Tomato?" asked Farouk, simply because it seemed to be the kind thing to do.

"Well..." was the beginning of a painful seven hour talk of woe and misery from the tomato, culminating in "... and now I'm here."

Farouk had no choice. He became the first ever tomato counselor. Tomatoes everywhere came to Farouk's office, lay down on his comfortable couch, and unburdened themselves of their many and varied problems.

Then, one day, probably 20 years after the fruit stall incident, since that would almost make sense, the Psychiatrists Association of the World took away his license. They had just discovered Farouk's specialisation in tomato head-shrinking and considered it reflected poorly on them. Which caused Farouk to scream,

"Noooooo!!! Tomatoes are people too!"

THE END

For the love of walnuts

"How can I get him to notice me?" sobbed Collie van den Berg.

"Sugar-coating might work" replied Marion, her assistant, helpfully.

"But what could he possibly see in a peanut like me?" wailed Collie, tears flowing in translucent, torrid streams down her nutty cheeks.

"Oh, even walnuts like Prince Vernon need the support and acceptance of nuts as wonderful as you, no matter what your differences might be."

"Maybe a good salting would do the trick?" attempted Collie, the tide of her tears receding somewhat, as she allowed herself to dare hope for the love of a walnut so grand as Prince Vernon.

"Yes! That's the spirit!" smiled Marion, glad to see her friend and employer find some comfort.

"Hmmm..." pondered Collie and Marion, plotting simultaneously.

THE END

Denominator

"Go on then! Divide me!" screamed the already fractured fraction.

"But we have no common denominators!" returned the more stable fraction.

"Can we still be friends?" queried the first fraction, hesitantly.

"Of course!" answered the second with unbridled enthusiasm.

THE END

Manic oxygen

"Screech!!!" gargled the pneumatic Wolfman.

He had a very large purple handbag hanging from his left hand. It contained two oxygen welders, with floral patterns adorning them. They didn't actually work though, which made them useless, except as paperweights, or unwieldy weapons for hand-to-hand combat.

Trouble was a-brewin' at the old Walston mansion. This was to be expected, as it was totally nonsensical. Which made it paradoxically easy to understand. But still quite confusing.

THE END

Master Top

"Oh, how glorious!" startled Mrs. Boxingworthy.

What she had neglected to mention was just how glorious it actually wasn't. But never let the truth stand in the way of a good startle.

"Um..." remonstrated Master Top, remonstratingly.

Then the figurative fireworks began, with aliens landing; cardboard boxes spontaneously flying open, and then closing themselves again; grass growing backwards; and the ever-present Catalogue Fairy providing much amusement with her impression of Mikhail Gorbachev.

Luckily, even with all of this, no one was hurt.

THE END

Sam the rocket

   "Kablooey!" argued the pernicious salamander.
   "Oik." replied Warren, eater of salubrious, red ingots. She was not happy.
   Marigolds grew gloriously from the tempting aromas of a fallow trigonometry, masticating their parenthetical, obverse giraffes.
   Elsewhere, Sam the Rocket.

THE END

Alan and Patrice

   "The armadillo needs a good buffing!!!" screeched Alan.
   "What about his extensive awning collection?" queried the unintroduced Ferdinand.
   "Well, yes, there's that." agreed Patrice.
   "You realise we're not making any sense, don't you?" asked Alan impatiently.
   "Yes!" exclaimed Ferdinand and Patrice simultaneously.
   "Probably time to wind this up then?"
   "Yes!" came the agreement.

THE END

Borgle the Wheezlesnap

   “Ho ho, Borgle. I see you have certainly made the most of your unusual talents!”
   “Yes, oh serene-and-wise-and-occasionally-a-little-cranky master of mine.”
   “You breathe particularly well!”
   “To have the talent of breathing is indeed most useful in staying alive, oh venerable-but-yet-still-lacking-in-a-certain-something guru.”
   “As it most obviously is!”

THE END

Spence pony weasel

   “What on Earth is that?” cried the smitten bangle.
   “Squidgy alligator bean?” queried primal spore.
   “Ellen pod vixen?” inquired venal mandible.
   “No!!! I am Spence pony weasel!!!” exclaimed Spence pony weasel.

THE END

Ultraviolet flowers

   "Stop disembarking my inventory, you fool!!!" screeched Mandrake.
   The object at which he screeched had attached itself to a large mushroom which Mandrake had been hoping to enter in the County Fair Mushroom Growing Contest next week. And the mushroom was shrinking. Rapidly. Luckily for Mandrake, his sister's ultraviolet flowers quickly disposed of the rampaging object, and had quite a tasty meal, now that it was suitably mushroom flavoured. All's well that ends well!

THE END

Work haikus

Here are a couple of haikus I wrote to some work friends of mine back in 2000, which amused me upon re-reading them this morning:

My eyes are so sore
I don't want to read a lot
But I still have to

So tired am I now
Makes it very hard to work
This is a haiku

Gadzooks

   "How rambunctious you are!" snivelled Blandsforth.
   "And, indeed. How snivelly you, indeed, are!" replied Gladsbury, in a manner which - it must be said - was entirely rambunctious.
   "Pass the moonshine!!!" screeched their mother, who was feeding a lizard to her large pet grapefruit.
   "Quite!" answered her two sons simultaneously.

THE END

Andy waterfall

   "It's much easier collecting the water we need with this waterfall so nearby!" exclaimed Character #1 cheerfully.
   "Indeed! Very convenient!" agreed Character #2.
   "Sure is! Very 'andy!" added their Cockney friend, Character #3, in a very contrived manner, to tie in the title of the story.

THE END

Warble over the ocean

   “Inconsequential floods have rampaged over the Pacific Ocean, as we cross to our correspondent being tossed around the deck of U.S.S. Warble”
   “Thanks Matilda. Yes, here I am aboard the U.S.S. Warble on what I thought would be a lovely holiday but is, instead, a very waterlogged trip indeed.”
   Amazingly, an enormous tidal wave of dry beach sand dropped out of the sky at that exact moment, depositing itself directly on the point of Matilda’s head. Some aliens from the Candelabra Nebula were rather surprised by this and let out several gasps:
   “Gasp! Gasp!” gasped Carrotron the alien.
   “Gasp ...gasp ... gaspgasp!” gasped his brother Wenford.
   And they all lived happily ever after.

THE END

Ralph the hedgehog

   “Ole!” screamed Ralph the enigmatic hedgehog. He wasn’t at all Spanish, but he was of the (mistaken) impression that such outbursts made him seem somewhat exotic.
   “Obviously it wasn’t something any of us would have expected, but there you have it.” mused the antiseptic bloodwort, coincidentally named Myrtle, who had mysteriously appeared, as if by magic, from the depths of the magic Magic Man’s magic bag of magic.
   “But since we’re all here anyway, perhaps a more appropriate approximation would be to ensure that all the cardboard we are responsible for is suitably polished and parcelled, so as to make delivery more convenient for those lovely little turnips.”
   “Whatever you say?” questioned Sontrana querulously in the rather uneasy manner of speaking that we have all become familiar with over the course of the story.
   “But, but, but ...” shrilled Farnsworth, the footman, strangulatedly, warning us away from a fate worse than pumpkin sausages, a warning we will not have sufficient time to heed, for this is ...

THE END

Plaid THE Box

   “Gurgle...” went Binko the ostrich-headed hippopotamus.
   When that was over, all the blank mimeographs decided that it was well past time to be heading over to the Furnished Blanket.
   Of course, they would soon discover that this was not such a good idea after all, and many a plaid box (including Plaid THE Box himself, Grand Ruler and High Whotsit of the Society of Boxes, Packages and Assorted Wrapping Paraphernalia) would regret the day that was said, “Oh, is that what they’re for?”

THE END

Flange the flange

   “Good evening Flange! How nice to see you again!” stated the Concierge politely.
   “Of course! It is always nice to see Flange the flange!” exclaimed Flange the flange rather arrogantly.

THE END

Sprinkler the furry bear

   “Oh my goodness!” exclaimed Sprinkler, who happened to be a furry bear, for no apparent reason. That is to say, he had said “Oh my goodness!” for no apparent reason, not that he was a furry bear for no apparent reason. It was very apparent that the reason Sprinkler was a furry bear was exactly that, that he was in fact a furry bear.
   “What’s the matter, dear?” asked Sprinkler’s Mum, another rather furry bear-type creature.
   “Nothing.” replied Sprinkler.
   “Well that’s all right then.” admitted Sprinkler’s Mum.

THE END

Mud and prams

   “Try it again,” suggested Mandragor the porcupine, who was coincidentally draped in smoggy blue jeans.
   “If you like, then I won’t!” replied Janz the large grapefruit.
   “But the prams won’t be very pleased,” pleaded alligator Simon, fancifully attired in purple breeches and a grey overcoat made entirely from bottle-tops.
   “They’ll just have to learn to cope with being stuck in the mud then,” interjected Captain Stupendous, the heroic foghorn, who wasn’t much of a pram fan it must be said.
   “Yes, let’s!” chorused the entire group.
   And so they did.

THE END

Then Birdie cried

   “Oh, brother!” exclaimed the turtle, who had recently picked up the habit of nonsensical rhyming [although, obviously, he broke the habit in that first statement. Unless ‘nonsensical rhyming’ means not rhyming at all...]
   “Fancy that!” semi-replied the facetious otter bedecked in a sparkling turban of green sweater.
   Hog the Tarkanian mystically retched a voluminous wedge from the underground maintenance puddle of his otherwise stationary bicycle.
   In contrast, the weather stale-ified progressively from winter to umbrella-season and hunting was on the prowl.
   “Legumes!!!” cried Birdie (saving the author from this degenerating SSS™).

THE END

Randolph and The Tree

   “Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!!!” cried Randolph (who was obviously a pirate).
   The Tree decided that Randolph was being a bit loud and proceeded to sit on him, which was quite painful for Randolph, since The Tree weighed more than an average African elephant.

THE END

Lazy returns

Back to some copy and paste. Not only that, Liv's seen that one before... Gotta put in more effort...

Frank the Cat

   “Moooooo!!!” growled Frank (the Cat).

THE END

Wondering minstrel

   "Oh fa lee lay la dee la do," trilled Andar.
   A single, explosively loud gunshot.
   "Why?" expired Andar.

THE END

Murder most livid

   Permeating the mandibles was a fallible intricacy. Mr. Trenton had long since decided to abandon candour and, instead, opt for intransigence. Odd it's true, but understandable, given a penchant for irreversibility.
   Exactly then, the covers exploded, raising awareness of fulcrums to undreamt of heights. Why would they have flown so carelessly? Mr. Trenton was tasked to find out. Was he successful? No.

THE END

Rehash

All the SSSs I've added so far have been blasts from my past, from letters I gave to a couple of good friends of mine, L and M. But copy and paste isn't really a creative endeavour so, finally, I've written a couple of new tales of suspense and tragedy, thanks to an hour sitting in the Canberra Centre waiting for B to finish work and have dinner with me. So here goes, new stuff!

Genuinely stupid?

   "You're not really, truly, genuinely stupid!" shouted Max.
   "Am so!" replied Gerald, angrily it must be said.
   "But what about the pink squid?" asks Max, cunningly linking this story with an earlier one, to trick Gerald into a serious blunder (as well as changing tense).
   "Huh?"
   "Ah ha! I have fooled you totally!" screams Max somewhat triumphantly.
   "Huh?"
   "It is I who am genuinely stupid!!!"
   "Huh?"
   "Me! ME! MEEEEEE!!!"
   "Oh. Me?" questions Gerald.
   "Yes! Hahaha!"
   "Die! Red-blooded scum of Earth!" screams the suddenly interjected alien toothbrush.
   "I disagree."
   "WHO SAID THAT?!" asks the alien toothbrush timidly.
   "That wasn't timid!"
   "TRUE!!! Who said that? BETTER?!!" amended the vicious and strangely anomalous toothbrush.
   "Yes, quite." answered the mute sponge bath.

THE END

Then the pig cried

   "Ouch!" cried the ping.
   "Hurties!" screamed the pop.
   "Waah!" wailed the crackle.
   Then the pig cried out, "ENOUGH!"

THE END

Pink squid

   "Then the squid said to the --"
   "Hang on! What squid?"
   "The attractive pink squid with the blue denim jeans, of course!"
   "Oh."

THE END

So there was one

First there were ten of them.
Then one went to pick up the dry cleaning.
So there were nine.
Another wanted to take a walk.
So there were eight.
The one who had gone for the dry cleaning came back, because Bells wasn’t very far from his house.
So there were nine.
They had a party with lots of friends showing up.
So there were 84.
The party finished, but a couple of their friends were idiots and couldn’t remember where they lived (and they were some of the ones that hadn’t been drinking).
So there were twelve.
One of them laid a bomb in the middle of the house and went across the road to use the detonator, blowing the house and all that was in it to pieces.
So there was one.

THE END

Maxine says "Hello"

   Franz decided that it was a good day to go shopping for a new pair of lederhosen, despite the fact that he knew not what they were. In fact it is rather culturally biased to suggest that just because he has a name like Franz, he should have any association with an item of clothing such as lederhosen. Franz decides he will start again, with a new name...
   Jakob decided that it was a good day to go shopping for a new pair of clogs...
   Ralph decided that it was a good day to go shopping for a new pair of basketball shoes...
   Fred decided that it was a good day to go shopping for a new pair of thongs...
   Zextlpnghjk decided that it was a good day to go shopping for a new pair of thrglsnaps. Well, it was a good day if you happened to breathe ammonia, and enjoyed walking through dense boggy marshes subject to frequent, violent lightning strikes. Which meant that it was a day that Zextlpnghjk liked very much indeed, since it not only breathed ammonia, but also enjoyed walking through dense boggy marshes subject to frequent, violent lightning strikes. How lovely!

THE END (almost)

   “Say it then!”
   “Do I have to?”
   “Yes!!!”
   “Oh, all right then! Hello!” said Maxine.

THE END (really!)

Mum, what's that?

   "Mum, what's that?", asked Little Suzie.
   "It's a tree", replied Mum.
   "Mum, what's that?", repeated Little Suzie.
   "It's still a tree", said Mum.
   "Mum, what's that?", said annoying Little Suzie.
   "I'd say, based on previous experience, and the constancy of physical objects, that it is, as before, a tree", said Mum, rapidly growing impatient, as was her wont.
   "Oh. A tree. I thought so.", said smart-alec Little Suzie.
   "Yes. A tree. Die, Little Suzie, Die!", screamed a hideous alien, who had surprisingly appeared from nowhere, and joined in the conversation.
   "Mum, what's that?", asked Little Suzie.
   "It's a tree!", Mum replied, having had enough.
   "No, that."
   "Oh. That's a hideous alien come to destroy you."
   "What?!?!"
   "Yes, nothing strange there."
   The hideous alien ("I am not hideous, you just have a rather narrow view of beauty", interjected the alien. "Oh, sorry. I s'pose you could be right", agrees the narrator) then proceeded to fire a massive neuron disruptor cannon at Little Suzie. It did not affect her at all.
   "But this weapon should have made your brains explode!" exclaimed the strangely-attractive alien.
   "Oh. She has no brains." said Mum matter-of-factly.
   "Yeah. So you can't kill me!" taunted Little Suzie.
   "Hmmm... I must ponder this situation" said the alien, disappearing in a flash of energy.

THE END (for now)

Where did Harold go?

   "Mum! Where's Harold?" screamed Harold's sister.
   "Mum. Where's Harold?" whispered Harold's brother.
   "Mum! Where's Harold?" screamed Harold's other sister.
   "Mum! Where's Harold?" shouted Harold, just to be part of the action, "Hang on! I only have one sister!"
   "Correct, you scum-sucking, leech-infested, brainless, maggot-eating, festering swamp of putrescence! I am in fact an alien!" growled the other "sister" ferociously.
   "Well, that's no excuse for such insults!" interjected Mum indignantly, "It's to bed with no supper for you!"
   "Sorry." replied the alien simply.

THE END (of Part One)

Blurg the Intelligent (Part Three)

   “Is a tomato and cheese omelette OK, oh mighty Emperor of the Galaxy?”
   “Yep, sure is!” answered Blurg the Intelligent quite cheerfully.
   “Well that’s good, because that’s all I can cook.” said the clone of Shauny Shorts.
   (Don’t ask me to explain how the clone of Shauny Shorts changed from wanting to conquer Blurg the Intelligent’s galaxy to being Blurg the Intelligent’s personal chef. You couldn’t possibly understand. All you really need to know is that Blurg the Intelligent has once again coped extremely well with the threat of galactic destruction.)
   (Oh, and the answer to the third question is: Yes this story could get much more stupid than this. But it won’t. Because this is... THE END

Blurg the Intelligent (Part Two)

   In our first episode, we saw that Shauny Shorts had seemingly come back to life, and was in the process of becoming a menace to the entire universe! Shock! Horror! Shaun’s jokes! But enough exclamation marks(!), let us continue with our story...
   “Watch out for the salmon sandwiches!!!” screamed the population of the galaxy which was, coincidentally ruled over by Blurg the Intelligent (Emperor of the Galaxy).
   “Um, what salad sandwiches?” asked Blurg the Intelligent.
   “SALMON sandwiches, oh mighty Emperor!!!”
   “Oh.” said Blurg the Intelligent.
   Then he ducked, because there were, indeed, several trillion salmon sandwiches flying through the galaxy at rather faster than average speeds (faster than average for salmon sandwiches, anyway). And he quickly noticed (he wasn’t called Blurg the Intelligent for nothing) that on the largest of all the salmon sandwiches was perched Shauny Shorts (or at least someone looking remarkably like him).
   “Hey Shauny Shorts (or person looking remarkably like him)!” shouted Blurg the Intelligent, rather cleverly since it is hard to shout brackets quite as well as he did.
   “What do you want? (Oh, and by the way, I am actually a clone of Shauny Shorts).” replied the Shauny Shorts clone, showing that he, too, could speak brackets with the best of them.
   “(That clears that up anyway). {I was just wondering why you are riding that large [and rather tasty looking] salmon sandwich}” said Blurg the Intelligent, simply showing off, because speaking three different kinds of brackets at a time is just stupid.
   “Because I am an evil, all-conquering devastator-of-galaxies!!! (And they were out of spaceships at the Spaceship Rental Store).”
   “Oh.” said Blurg the Intelligent.

   How will the mighty Blurg the Intelligent cope with this surprising turn of events? Will he have time to arrange some lunch (because the sight of all those salmon sandwiches has made him decidedly hungry)? Can this story get any more stupid? The answers to these questions and more (No, actually, not more, because those are hard enough questions to answer by themselves) will be revealed in Episode 3 of “Blurg the Intelligent”. Be there or be a tube of toothpaste!

Blurg the Intelligent

   "I hear you’re rather a smart little thing, Blurg. Is that true?” said the blue thing.
   “Dunno.” replied Blurg the Intelligent.
   “Ahhh...I see.”
   “Marvellous!” exclaimed Blurg the Intelligent.
   “Quite.”
   “Quite what?”
   “Yes!”
   “Hmmm...”
   “I don’t think so.”
   “Don’t be so difficult!”
   “Why are they doing that?”
(The narrator takes this opportunity to apologise for the conversation above. Steps have been taken and the next conversation should make much more sense.)
   “How convolutingly fastidious of you.”
   “Quite.”
   “Quite what?”
   “Yes!”
   “Hmmm...”
   “I don’t think so.”
(Um...Obviously that didn’t work. We’ll try again.)
   Blurg the Intelligent, master of all he surveyed, acted quickly and decisively. Anything less could have allowed the tragedy of mixing strawberry jam with the peanut butter instead of boysenberry jam. You can no doubt see just why Blurg the Intelligent’s heroic actions were necessary, and why he was proclaimed Emperor of the Galaxy for his efforts.
   However, a clone of Shauny Shorts (the original Shauny having been destroyed) was soon to provide rather a nasty surprise for Blurg the Intelligent...
   Tune in next time for the continuation of this exciting tale of space-faring intrigue and salmon sandwiches.

THE END (for now)

Stupidity breeds eggs

   “Good morning, Clarentina!”
   “Good morning yourself, Stupidity!”
   “What a fine day it is for a pair of hens like ourselves!”
   “Yes!”
THE END

Bill the Worm

   “Gee! It’s really nice and cool down here, isn’t it, Bill?”
   “Yeah, I s’pose so,” said Bill somewhat dejectedly.
   “What’s wrong, Bill?”
   “I’m a worm, aren’t I?”
   “Um...No...You’re a fern!”
   “A fern?”
   “Sure!”
   “Well! That’s all right then!”

THE END

SSS's

As a starting point, I'd like to introduce the Surreal Short Story (SSS for short) concept. Is it a new, original idea in the world of story telling? Doubtful, but who cares? Basically, I write anything that pops into my head, sometimes triggered by a title, sometimes just an excuse to write fun words and just enjoy the English language. Mostly, it covers for my lack of discipline in telling any story longer than a few sentences (but don't tell anyone :) In fact, the beauty of an SSS is that it doesn't need to make any sense at all.

I've written dozens of SSS's over the years, and while my plan in writing them was always that they were a special, unique gift to the recipient, I think the statute of limitations has passed on them... well, actually I just think that the friends who I've shared them with wouldn't mind if they also saw the brighter light of day. So I'll be posting a whole bunch of SSS material which is new to all but the original owners, and some of which might actually be fun to read. Some (most?) of it is certainly dull, boring crap, but that's really why you're reading this blog anyway, isn't it? Can't get enough of that wonderful refuse :)

Intro

I keep promising myself (and Liv) that I'll do more creative stuff. More writing, more drawing, more whatever. Now my other blog has at least had me writing a bit more, but when I'm there the content tends to lean towards a "Dear Diary" kind of entry. So I thought I'd take the risk that a second blog would create two disused blogs in place of one, and allow this new one to focus exclusively on new things I'm bringing to the world. So any creative writing, pictures or new photos will be contained (or referenced) here. It also gives me a place to store years of ideas, half-realised stories and other miscellany torn from the depths of my brain.

I plan to use this space free of any need for consistency, quality or interesting-ness. If you like things, feel free to comment. If you don't like things, you can also comment, although you're better off spending time creating your own, better stuff than criticising me :)

I'll probably change the default look when I get a chance, to support larger blocks of text. Prepare to be dazzled with boredom!