Writer's Block

Thanks go to Kimmie and Cois for tagging me. It's my own fault - I still haven't wrought my revenge for last time and clearly there's no visible deterrent to this reprehensible behaviour .



Anyway...(rules from Stomyr's blog)...5 jobs I'd never do and why.

1) Working in a Boots store. See, those stores sell perfume...and unlike some other places, the stores reek of dozens of them all mingling together into something that makes me physically nauseous. I avoid them whenever possible.

2) Gameshow Host. All those insincere smiles, the retakes, edits, the morons, the mistakes that show up on blooper reels for years to come? This won't always be fiction.

3) Anything medical, doctor, nurse, whatever. I don't have the temperament for it - I'm not good with ill people. Or to be more precise, I'm bad with people who I don't think are as ill as they make out.

4) Sports Commentator. How do they do it? To keep up an inane drivel for an entire football match? ("...and here's Giggs, picking up the ball on the left..."). To speak without a breath for a whole horse race? ("...it's Dodgy Curry, leading by a nose from Running Badger with Much Unpleasantness coming up on the inside..."). To manage to talk for an entire F1 race - "...and coming into the final turn, it's Rubens Barrichello..."?

5) Spammer/Virus Writer - aka Internet Parasites. Just not me. Making a living by pissing off millions of users, devouring over half the bandwidth, stealing from the gullible and the careless and screwing up millions of computers? I utterly despise these parasites, and I hope that very soon they start to get their come-uppance in the most cruel and painful way .

Now for 5 sacrificial lambs to help me lift the curse, let's see...:

Dennis
Esther
Callya
Marcus
Flamingo Rinse

you know, last time I was tagged I didn't post a story for three weeks afterwards

Foedus cautiously took a mouthful of the steak, chewed it thoughtfully and swallowed.

"This is excellent, Master."
"Take a piece from the middle."
"As you command, Mistress."

A moment later another mouthful was his, devoured eagerly. A short distance away sat the Aldernaks, studying him intently and looking for any sign of ill-health.

He grinned happily at them and took a mouthful of wine.

"Absolutely delicious steak. And the wine - superb!"
"Enough!"

Mr Aldernak snapped his fingers, and a minute later he and his wife were devouring their own steaks. Suddenly, Sophie stopped eating and sat up straight. There was a brief little gulping noise, then a deafening belch escaped from her mouth and terrorised the other diners. They stared at her, surprised.
She turned slightly pink for a moment, then gathered her composure.

Then she turned in her seat and stared pointedly at Foedus.

"You!"
"Er...Mistress?"
"Hand over the antidote, now!"
"Antidote, Mistress? But 'twas only a burp!"

Mr Aldernak stood up.

"Are you suggesting that my dear lady wife would lower herself so?"
"Er..."

At this point Mr Aldernak himself let out a powerful burp.

"Egads! You've poisoned both of us! Grab him!"
"B-but..!"

Two of the guests grabbed his arms, and pushed him face-first against the wall. Mr Aldernak walked closer, and frisked him thoroughly.
"Ok, where is it? Where's the damn antidote?!"
"There's no poison, Master!"
"I don't believe you. You have precisely five seconds to confess before I slit your throat."
"But..!"
"One."
"There's no poison!"
"Two."
"Please, Master, I'm begging you!"
"Three."
"Oh, please, no!"
"Four."
"Okay, okay, okay, I'll tell! It's in the wine I drank! The wine!"
"Wise choice."

Mr Aldernak handed the wine glass to his wife.

"After you, my dear."
"Thank you, Robert."

She drank half the glass, then handed it to him.

"Ah, much better! I can feel the poison fading already. Servants! Dispose of this steak at once!"

Sophie turned to the two men that were holding Foedus.

"Throw him out of the window - he'll have plenty of time to repent on the way down."
"What?! No!!!"

He struggled desperately against his captors, but to no avail. A minute later, a dwindling scream marked his departure.

As the Aldernaks and their guests resumed eating their first course, the kitchen staff quietly but quickly made their exit. When Mr Aldernak burst into the kitchen twenty minutes later in a rage, all he found was a large pot of rapidly-cooling baked beans.

The first story for a while - it could do with a bit more work but I need to post something

The Dread Lord Aldernak leaned slightly forward on his throne and glared balefully down at the snivelling servant.

"Is that it?! Just 5000?!"
"Er...yes, Your Unspeakableness."
"Over 10 months of work, and only a measly 5000 souls trapped?"
"But...Your Horribleness...we weren't expecting anywhere near that many."
"I remember different."
"Look, it's all written down in the project objectives, see here on pa-"

There was a sudden blur, then a loud burp. Aldernak grinned evilly at the remaining servants, who shrank back and tried not to meet his eye.

"You! You'll do."

A huge arm shot out and grabbed one of them, lifting the terrified creature up to face height.

"I'm sure you're thrilled at this opportunity to serve your master."
"Y-y-y-y-y-yes, Your Balefulness."
"I want MORE souls, many more."
"Of course, Your Wickedness."
"So...."
"Er...more traps, Your Vileness. Better traps, with better bait. And...and...we'll bring people to them as well!"
"Acceptable...for now. I think a million souls is an appropriate new target, don't you?"

The servant's eyes grew wide.

"Er...er...by when, Your Maleficence?"
"Shall we say six months?"

Huge, blood-red eyes bored into those of the servant.

"Eek! Er...I mean, yes, Your Foulness."
"Now go!"

He released his grip. The new project coordinator fell awkwardly to the ground, scrambled to his feet and dashed off to do his master's bidding. Aldernak watched him leave, smiling maliciously. It wouldn't be long now...


this is my little way of saying : 5000 visitors at last!

"Can you smell that?", said the courgette. "Smells like stew, and you know what that means for us".

The vegetables huddled together in terror.

"Can you tell what kind of stew it is?", said the biggest King Edward.
"I think...no, I'm sure...it's beef!"

Most of the vegetables relaxed, all but three.
The potatoes just sat there, eyes wide with shock and fear.
The onions tried to hide behind the large marrow and started crying.

But the carrots were made of sterner stuff. The biggest one, a mammoth carrot named Malcolm, had an idea. He assembled his troops.

"Now then, lads, this is it. The big one! It's time to show the world that we carrots aren't going to knuckle under! We are going to fight! The moment that cupboard door opens, I want an all-out assault on whatever comes in. And I want it to hurt them worse than it does us!"
"But Malcolm, how?"
"How? HOW?! Use your brain, boy! We're not the only things in this cupboard. See that pineapple? That has everything we need..."

---

"Ow! Something bit me, mommy!"
"Don't be silly, Susie, it's just a load of vegetables and fruit in there."
"But..."
"Now get me some spuds, onions and carrots like I asked, ok?"
"Yes, mommy....OW!"
"Susie..."
"I'm bleeding, mommy"
"What the-? Hmmm, it's only a scratch. Run your hand under the tap for a minute while I take a look in the cupboard. Maybe there's something sharp in there.."

She knelt down, opened the cupboard door wide and was promptly hit full in the face by a large piece of pineapple rind liberally doused with juice. She fell backwards and knocked herself out on the sink.

"Mommy?!"

Susie ran off screaming to find her dad.

---

"Ready, lads? Then off we go, out there to freedom!"

A minute later, an orderly queue of vegetables with Malcolm in the lead marched out of the cupboard and through the living room, past the bemused eyes of the cat, before escaping through the catflap to pastures new.

Five hours later, a very confused family sat down to eat a rather dull stew.

This rather bizarre little story is for Kimmie on her birthday

Santa glared at the recalcitrant reindeer. It hadn't been the same since Comet retired, but that near-collision with the jumbo jet had made him a nervous wreck. Unfortunately his replacement, a young buck called Schnitzel, was a bit of a troublemaker.

"What's the problem this year, then?", sighed Santa.
"Overtime and workload", said Schnitzel. "Me and the brothers" - the other reindeer shifted uneasily - "feel that you're taking unfair advantage of being able to control time for one night a year. We feel that we're working much longer than what the timesheets say."
"But you only work one night a year! The rest of the time you just laze around and get pampered by the elves".

Ok, maybe he shouldn't have said that. Blitzen had just shot him a dirty look.

Schnitzel took a couple of paces towards him and bared his teeth.

"That ONE night feels like over a year. And I'm appalled that senior management does not recognise the rigorous training routines which I and the other reindeer have to go through."
"Rigorous training? Five years ago the reindeer helped with moving the toys around - now you just lie there and let the elves bring you moss and other nibbles. Dasher can't dash anymore, and the last time Dancer decided to live up to his name the elves thought there was an earthquake."
"Well, you can't expect us to risk our livelihood on tasks that aren't in our job description. Remember that year when half the kids asked for toy trains? And the accident? It's a wonder Vixen didn't lose a leg."

The red-suited man and the reindeer stared at each other intently for a moment, sizing each other up. Santa spoke first.

"So what is it that you want?"
"Ah, now we're getting somewhere. Well, after some discussion with my colleagues, we have the following demands. Firstly, we demand a lighter sleigh. We cannot see any reason why all the toys have to be delivered in one back-breaking trip every year, and a lighter sleigh will mean that we can work in shifts. Secondly, a better pension scheme. We're a little concerned that we haven't seen Comet since his retirement."

Santa was suddenly very glad that his reindeer fur waistcoat wasn't visible.

"Thirdly, we want a better cafeteria. No more standing awkwardly next to the elves, and more variety in the food on offer. Finally, you need to go on a diet - this relates to our first demand."
"Is that it?"
"For now, but obviously we will be continually re-evaluating our position as circumstances change."
"Hmmmmmm...."
"If our demands are not met, we will have no option but to down sleigh tomorrow."
"You leave me with little choice...but obviously these aren't very detailed requests. Would you care to come with me so we can discuss them in greater detail?"
"That sounds reasonable."
"We'll use the office in my grotto."

...the next morning...

Santa bounded out of his grotto to where the reindeer were lining up ready for work.

"Morning, lads! Well, I've got some good news for you. After a night spent in fierce negotiation, it's been agreed that there'll be some changes around here. You were right - it didn't make sense to do all the toys in one go, so the sleigh will be a little lighter this year. And there'll be more variety available to you in the cafeteria - today you can get meat if you want it. I think that was all, wasn't it lads?"
He stared at them intently, and they nodded one by one.
"However, there was also some bad news. I'm afraid that Schnitzel over-exerted himself during the negotiations and won't be joining us today. We'll be one reindeer short, but with the lighter sleigh I'm sure this won't be a problem. Right?"
More nodding.
"Now let's get cracking, shall we? These toys won't deliver themselves!"

He heaved himself awkwardly onto the sleigh and squeezed into the front seat. Maybe it was time for a diet...no, he'd just get the elves to extend the sleigh a bit next time.
At least his feet would be nice and warm this year in his new reindeer fur boots.

Er...Merry Christmas?

It was Thursday night, and in the little town of Mupit-on-Sea that night was their first ever Bingo night.
A hundred people packed into the little church.
A hundred pairs of eyes staring intently at pieces of paper.
The vicar cleared his throat and set the machine going.
The first ball appeared. He studied it, and consulted his little book.
"Er...Dirty Gertie, thirty."
The sound of scribbling filled the church.
"Ahem...all the sixes, sixty-six."
Silence. A cough.
"Never been kissed, seventeen."
Scribbling again.
"Dinky doo? Er...twenty-two."

It continued in this vein for some time, until finally :

"Over the hill, forty."

...and a hundred voices cried out at once : "Bingo!"

The vicar turned wearily to the curate.

"You used the photocopier, didn't you?"

Just a silly little story

Ridiculous.
Utterly ridiculous.
Aldernak glared furiously at the screen one more time, then stood up and began pacing around the room, coffee in hand.
Why was this happening to him? Why now? All these years of ideas appearing from nowhere, and now he had nothing?
No, that wasn't quite true. He had a dozen ideas, all of them now converted into unfinished pieces. On each of them the initial spark of inspiration had fizzled out after a few sentences. Right now one stared out mockingly at him from the screen, daring him to continue.
He needed something new, something a little different. He stopped pacing for a moment and quickly scanned the room, seeking something to spark an idea such as an unusually-shaped shadow or a misread book title. Nothing happened.
Then his gaze was drawn by the flickering lamp-post outside, down to the young woman waiting beneath it, and his world stopped.
She was...breathtaking – he couldn't take his eyes off her. The way the light caught her hair just right, the quiet smile he could see playing on her face, even just the way she stood – perfection.
For a while he stood there motionless, just staring out of the window. Then a car pulled up, she got in, and a moment later she was gone. A moment later Aldernak shook himself free of the spell, and stared down at his cold coffee. He felt different somehow, more alive, as if a light had suddenly shone inside him.
What’s more, he felt like writing again. He had a sudden compulsion to write a story about an angel...

This one feels a bit aimless to me... But I'm hoping to do another one pretty quickly