Complete with a little toy windmill.
not my idea just something that made me smile
Category: Fiction
Pieces of short fiction I’ve written.
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The new thing… Vigilante Justice
The new thing… Vigilante Justice
So, my sources tell me that a masked vigilante is out there, in the city. Well, that’s nothing new. This one, is perhaps a bit different though. He’s driving an electric car, wearing a wrestling mask, and carrying a sawzall. He’s been seen parking in front of houses that are watering their lawns excessively, in clear violation of the water restrictions. He’ll walk up to the house, turn the tap fully off, and then with his sawzall, he’ll cut the head off the faucet. Then he’ll apply a sticker to the side of the house, before getting back in the car and driving away. The sticker is printed with a copy of the current water restrictions and an oddly deformed smiley face at the bottom.
Strangely, the rumours about this man differ greatly. Some describe him as 5’5″, blond hair poking out from the mask, chain smoking, while others have described him as 6’6″, a big bear of a man, who drinks from the hose before he shuts it off. One person even stated that she was sure that the vigilante was in fact a woman.
In any case, my lawn has gone brown and grey, and will stay that way.
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Advice on ants
A dying man once told me that time was like a river of angry ants, devouring our flesh and pressing ever onward, down a path we can’t accurately predict, leaving a clear swath behind them.
While most of you can accept that part, it was the rest of it you’d have trouble with.
It’s when you start playing with time travel that the similarities really stick out. Just like with the ants, you can try to change the flow, but they just continue to climb over whatever you toss in. Sure, with a large enough obstruction, you might cause some of them to route around, but in the end, they’ll reconnect with the mass.
It really doesn’t matter what you throw at them, they’ll continue to move forward, endlessly.
His final warning was to avoid anything that might create one of those damn ant balls. I can only guess he meant a time loop.
Of course, given that he was me, I’m pretty sure he knew his advice was likely to be passed down ineffectually when I became him, watching me fail to understand the lessons that we shared.
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True North Facts : Water Features
Before foreign architects included water features in designs for their buildings, Canadians needed to travel into the wilderness to take part in recreational ice climbing. Now that many buildings include them, urban Canadians can enjoy a nice climb during their lunch hour. The practice has become so popular that a some restaurants have included a “winter entrance”.
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ISLE
The Irresponsible Scientists League of Earth (ISLE) claimed responsibility today, sort of, for the horrific events of last week. They admitted that they installed the intelligence expansion devices in churches, mosques and synagogues around the world, but claim that the devices were intended to slowly increase the intelligence of attendees and not cause rapid cranial expansion. ISLE had expected depression and confusion, followed by enlightenment and an increased interest in science. Not the showers of blood and gore that accompanied the head explosions.
“Apparently one of the guys overclocked it for better performance, and the result was perfectly logical.”
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A military academy, really?
So, this morning I woke up with memories of having taken a giant ant robot out to a military academy, by way of a golf course. While I was out there, I had to deal with a rather hardcore religious ceremony, befriended by some Ukrainian orthodox crew who had some strange rituals of their own, including some strange complicated handshake. The nuns had strange crucified monkey puppets, something that made sense, but confuses me now. Then the giant ants got into a fight with a half dozen other ant robots that had been hidden around the grounds. And then the data was somehow uploaded, despite the military safeguards. At which point it became clear that something strange was going on. Then we found out that the academy was haunted, by something that whispered into the ears of the cadets and influenced them. Except the band, because they were deaf to it’s whispers, and another group for similar reasons. It had the most influence over the religious types, since they spent plenty of time in silence.
Prior to all this, there was a strange rave in a school, for some sort of planetary alignment. This involved the destruction of many of the facilities in the school, especially the toilets; on every damn floor.
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More strange dreams
Warning. This will probably be disturbing to some readers.
This was an unexpectedly violent dream.
Writing in strange places, like a wooden picnic table, cantilevered over a pool. Having to adjust the table, so it wasn’t sinking into the pool. People asking for the WiFi password, and not taking the hint that I didn’t want to give it to them.
A computer set up in my old bed room; someone stealing files from it. A confrontation with the guy who’d taken the files, being told they were nothing to worry about, just my porn collection; broken up by his friend. Killing the friend in the other room, after being told it was blackmail material, coming back for the original thief, trying to get answers from him; choking him to death.
Running commands on the PC, finding out that they’d stolen kickstarter promo files that had been sent to me; nothing important, just a curiosity.
Depression. Hiding the bodies. People still around, not realizing how far things had escalated. Normal socializing, some conflicts, guilt and then admission of what I’d done. Discussions of suicide; conversations on best methods, some arguments. Find a poison that kills my liver, taking it. Feeling it failing. Wanting to write before the end. Setting up the laptop and writing until I passed out.
Waking up, in bed. Different house, memories fading. Breakfast, then writing this.
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Drunkard Dance 0.56
Duggan regained his balance. He was standing in a bathroom; it was somehow familiar. His attacker hadn’t followed him in, just shoved him through. Duggan turned and twisted the bolt on the door, locking it.
His head spun for a moment, and he stepped towards the sink. He twisted the right hand tap, ran his hand under the water and then splashed it up into his face. He stared into the mirror, collecting his thoughts. A sticker on the bottom corner of the mirror caught his eye and he focused on it for a moment.
His head cleared, he turned back to the door. He listened for a moment, his breathing slow and calm. Positioning himself, he unlocked it and pulled it open, ready to deal with the crazy old man. In front of him was an empty hallway. He closed the door, and glanced room. Locking the door once more, he stepped towards another door and pulled on the handle. It didn’t open, seemingly locked. His eyes focused on the lock.
He placed his hands to his forehead, rubbing briefly and then brushed back his hair. Pulling his key ring off his belt, he flipped through it until he found a key labelled ‘Janitorial Master’. The key slid into the lock and disengaged the cylinders smoothly. He pulled the door open, revealing a supply closet.
“I was in the bar, and now I’m at work. What the fuck.” His voice was calm and quiet. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “And it’s Tuesday.”
His phone began to beep as text messages started coming in at a rapid pace. The voice mail indicator flashed on the screen. He had 16 new messages.
He shook his head and went back to the sink, washing his face again.
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Drinks unfinished – 0.47
Gorman held the bottle up to the light. “Well, that’s just about half the bottle. And according to the letter, I should save the other half.” He paused dramatically. “For the Future.” He raised his glass towards Duggan.
“Right. The future. Does the letter mention the next bottle?”
“Believe it or not, it does.” Gorman reaches down under the table again, into the little cabinet that has been installed there. “I think that’s the main reason I’m playing along. My uncle had good taste.” Duggan toyed his glass and set it back on the table, a little bit left in it. Gorman pulled out another bottle and set it on the table. “I’ll grab us some fresh glasses. No point tainting the bouquet.” He smirked as he said it, his tone raised; he stood up from the table and walked towards the front of the building.
“John. I’m surprised to see you here. This is unexpected.”
Duggan turned, seeing an older gentleman approaching the table from the rear of the building. The man looked quite a bit like James Gorman, though his hair was grey and his skin wrinkled. Duggan narrowed his eyes, and he blinked, shaking his head. “James? The fuck?” He closed his eyes for a moment, set his hands on the table, and then opened them again, looking at the new arrival. “You look must be his…” He trailed off. “I thought he said he didn’t have any family left. I guess that makes you the ‘dead uncle’, right?”
“Actually, yes. Though not the way you think. John, it’s been a long time, and while I’m glad to see he has a friend, I wasn’t expecting you here tonight. This complicates things.” He reached out and picked up Duggan’s glass, raising it to his lips and finished the glass in a single gulp.
Duggan frowned, his posture changing. He stood up and stepped out of the booth, standing a foot away from James’ ‘Dead Uncle’, examining his face. “The resemblance is strong. Since it was your bottle, I can hardly object to you taking a share. Though you could have just poured a fresh glass.” His stance had widened, his weight over the balls of his feet.
“True, but this saved some time.” The older gentleman tossed the glass at Duggan, who caught it reflexively. His hands full, his reactions were slowed as the man brought both his hands together, clapping him hard in the head. “I’m sorry about this John, I hope you don’t land in the middle of next week.”
His head fogged by the combination of the alcohol and the unexpected blow, he shifted into a defensive pose, as the man threw his full weight at him, shoving him through the doorway behind him. His sense of balance shifted and he felt himself falling backwards.
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Drunk man down 0.45
Despite the allegations against Gorman, he and Duggan had remained friends. They weren’t as close since the school had been putting pressure on Duggan to provide evidence that Gorman had been involved in the disappearance. That had understandably strained things between them.
It was a few days after Duggan’s birthday, and Gorman had invited him out for a drink. He’d skipped out on the party that Duggan’s staff had thrown for him the weekend before and felt a bit of regret about it. He’d known he shouldn’t attend, given how some of them felt about him.
They had met in a dive bar, down in the bad part of town. It wasn’t the faux dive bar where hipsters hung out, it was a legitimate down on the luck sort of place. A place that hadn’t been bought up by the forces of Gentrification and Urban Renewal. Duggan had been surprised that they’d been given a booth in the back, and more surprised when James had reached down under the table and pulled out a bottle of decent scotch and set it on the table.
“They let you bring in your own booze?”
“We have an arrangement. I’m renting this booth.” He poured the scotch into a pair of glasses. “And a room in the back.”
“Why the hell would you want to do that?” Duggan picked up his glass and sipped it, smiling as the liquid danced it’s way down his throat.
“It was easier than changing bars all the time. It made sense. I made some deals and now I don’t need to worry. University ID won’t get in the door.” James chuckled. “Well, with the obvious exception of yourself.” He held out his glass to Duggan.
“Seriously? What kind of cash are you paying for that kind of treatment.”
“Less than you’d think. I wasn’t exactly accurate when I said I was renting the booth and the room in the back. It would be more accurate to say they’re the only part I’m not renting.” He gazed deeply into the glass and then tipped it back, swallowing it in one gulp.
“You bought this place?”
“Inherited, apparently. From my namesake uncle. Who I’d never heard of, before his lawyer showed up at my door. He left me this building, a collection of fine wines, and a shitload of money. And some really weird letters.” James poured the scotch into their glasses. “Including the letter that told me that we needed to drink this bottle tonight.”
“We? I’m mentioned in these letters?”
“No, actually quite the opposite. It says I should drink this bottle alone here tonight.”
“Then why am I here?”
“You really think I’m going to follow the instructions of a dead ‘Uncle’? I’m grateful, but I’d rather not drink alone.”