“Your house really is an invitation to burglars.” My neighbours told me.
“This really is a high crime area.” They said.
“You really should get an alarm system fitted.” They said.
“You really shouldn't leave your window ajar at night.” They said.
“You really ought to get a stronger back door, and heavier bolts.” They said.
But we like things just the way they are.
The master roams the house at night, silent as a shadow.
The master likes burglars, he likes burglars very much.
He only spits out the nails and teeth.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
Friday, 30 March 2012
Friday, 23 March 2012
Branded
As I stood in the queue I pondered on how such a small act can have an immense impact on a person's life. How something trivial can rapidly escalate into massive consequences in such a short space of time. My only crime was trying to get a free meal.
I've got away with it so many times before, walking into a restaurant, ordering and eating a meal, then apologising to the manager, explaining my predicament, that I had been starving hungry but had no money. Usually I just end up getting the bum's rush out of the back door into the garbage cans, the management can't usually be bothered wasting their time pursuing a few quid through the courts, it's easier to just throw the problem out, and get back to serving the paying customers.
But this time I went a bit too up-market, I ate at Bibby's, the snotty gits called the police.
I was duly charged, tried and sentenced, all in less than twenty four hours. The benefits of our new judicial system. No more prisons, no more fines, just branded then thrown out into society.
Some of the branded never survived more than a few minutes on the street before the mob got to them. The rapists, the murderers and such. Others just faced a life of humiliation, or a life of seclusion, hiding away from the stares of the public.
The blue door at the end of the corridor opened and two guards dragged a man out, the word THEFT freshly burnt into his forehead. They opened the red door in the side wall, the one that led back to the street, and threw him unceremoniously through the opening, slamming the door shut behind him.
The two goons then grabbed the man at the head of the queue and pulled him through the doorway into the room they had emerged from, slamming that door shut too.
The rest of us shuffled forward, each of us that bit nearer to our punishment.
After a few minutes the blue door opened again, the man was dragged back out through the doorway with the word FRAUD lividly telling the world of his crime. Out he went, into the street.
We all shuffled forward again.
And so it went on... MURDER... Shuffle... BIGAMY... Shuffle... RAPE... Shuffle... ARSON... Shuffle... TREASON... Shuffle...
Suddenly a thought struck me, and I couldn't help but smile, in fact more than smile, a huge grin spread its way across my face.
One of the guards patrolling the corridor leaned towards me threateningly, his ugly mug just inches from mine.
“Amused, are we? You won't be so cheerful when your turn comes. What heinous crime did you commit then?”
“I was convicted of 'Obtaining pecuniary advantage by deception'.” I replied, still smiling at my inner thoughts.
“Well, my cheerful friend, they're gonna burn that into your head.”
“Yeah? Well I'm just wondering how the hell they're gonna get it all on there, and if you lot are as intelligent as you look, I'll expect all of the long words to contain spelling mistakes too.”
The next time the blue door opened and I shuffled forward again, I was sporting a nice fat lip to remind me to keep my inner thoughts to myself in the future.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
I've got away with it so many times before, walking into a restaurant, ordering and eating a meal, then apologising to the manager, explaining my predicament, that I had been starving hungry but had no money. Usually I just end up getting the bum's rush out of the back door into the garbage cans, the management can't usually be bothered wasting their time pursuing a few quid through the courts, it's easier to just throw the problem out, and get back to serving the paying customers.
But this time I went a bit too up-market, I ate at Bibby's, the snotty gits called the police.
I was duly charged, tried and sentenced, all in less than twenty four hours. The benefits of our new judicial system. No more prisons, no more fines, just branded then thrown out into society.
Some of the branded never survived more than a few minutes on the street before the mob got to them. The rapists, the murderers and such. Others just faced a life of humiliation, or a life of seclusion, hiding away from the stares of the public.
The blue door at the end of the corridor opened and two guards dragged a man out, the word THEFT freshly burnt into his forehead. They opened the red door in the side wall, the one that led back to the street, and threw him unceremoniously through the opening, slamming the door shut behind him.
The two goons then grabbed the man at the head of the queue and pulled him through the doorway into the room they had emerged from, slamming that door shut too.
The rest of us shuffled forward, each of us that bit nearer to our punishment.
After a few minutes the blue door opened again, the man was dragged back out through the doorway with the word FRAUD lividly telling the world of his crime. Out he went, into the street.
We all shuffled forward again.
And so it went on... MURDER... Shuffle... BIGAMY... Shuffle... RAPE... Shuffle... ARSON... Shuffle... TREASON... Shuffle...
Suddenly a thought struck me, and I couldn't help but smile, in fact more than smile, a huge grin spread its way across my face.
One of the guards patrolling the corridor leaned towards me threateningly, his ugly mug just inches from mine.
“Amused, are we? You won't be so cheerful when your turn comes. What heinous crime did you commit then?”
“I was convicted of 'Obtaining pecuniary advantage by deception'.” I replied, still smiling at my inner thoughts.
“Well, my cheerful friend, they're gonna burn that into your head.”
“Yeah? Well I'm just wondering how the hell they're gonna get it all on there, and if you lot are as intelligent as you look, I'll expect all of the long words to contain spelling mistakes too.”
The next time the blue door opened and I shuffled forward again, I was sporting a nice fat lip to remind me to keep my inner thoughts to myself in the future.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
Friday, 16 March 2012
Sexy Thing
Authors note:
I feel I must warn you in advance that this flash may evoke unpleasant mental images.
If you are squeamish, easily disgusted, or easily offended then please stop reading NOW!
Steve Green.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Still reading?... Okay, but remember, you were warned.
SEXY THING:
“You have to stop forcing me to have sex.”
“Why? Don't you enjoy it?”
“Oh yeah, I enjoy it, but post-ejaculation escape is getting harder these days. I'm not getting any younger you know, and I'm losing too many legs to these monstrous females.”
“How many legs did you start out with?”
“Eighteen, and now I'm down to eleven, which wouldn't be too bad if they were a bit even-sided, but nine on one side and two on the other doesn't give a guy a sporting chance when trying to escape a hungry, post coital female fifteen times his size. If things continue in the same trend I only have two more romps, then all I'll be able to do is run round in circles, well, until my current playmate driven by her orgasm-induced appetite manages to grab hold of me that is.”
“You volunteered for the re-population programme. You signed the form. You should have read the small print, took more notice of the disclaimer. The future of the Polypod race depends on the success of this programme. Now stop wasting time, get in there and give it your all.”
“Okay, but just hang on a minute while I defecate and smear it all over myself.”
“Why would you want to do a disgusting thing like that?”
“I believe it may increase my chances of survival.”
“How?”
“Well, if I'm not quick enough to make it out of there this time, she just might decide to spit me out because I don't taste too good.”
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
I feel I must warn you in advance that this flash may evoke unpleasant mental images.
If you are squeamish, easily disgusted, or easily offended then please stop reading NOW!
Steve Green.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Still reading?... Okay, but remember, you were warned.
SEXY THING:
“You have to stop forcing me to have sex.”
“Why? Don't you enjoy it?”
“Oh yeah, I enjoy it, but post-ejaculation escape is getting harder these days. I'm not getting any younger you know, and I'm losing too many legs to these monstrous females.”
“How many legs did you start out with?”
“Eighteen, and now I'm down to eleven, which wouldn't be too bad if they were a bit even-sided, but nine on one side and two on the other doesn't give a guy a sporting chance when trying to escape a hungry, post coital female fifteen times his size. If things continue in the same trend I only have two more romps, then all I'll be able to do is run round in circles, well, until my current playmate driven by her orgasm-induced appetite manages to grab hold of me that is.”
“You volunteered for the re-population programme. You signed the form. You should have read the small print, took more notice of the disclaimer. The future of the Polypod race depends on the success of this programme. Now stop wasting time, get in there and give it your all.”
“Okay, but just hang on a minute while I defecate and smear it all over myself.”
“Why would you want to do a disgusting thing like that?”
“I believe it may increase my chances of survival.”
“How?”
“Well, if I'm not quick enough to make it out of there this time, she just might decide to spit me out because I don't taste too good.”
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
Friday, 9 March 2012
A beer for Joe (Part 2)
Author's note:-
The original story “A beer for Joe” was written as a stand-alone piece, this week I decided to write this follow-on, anyone wishing to refresh their memory, or to read Part 1 for the first time can find it here:- A beer for Joe.
Thank you for reading.
Steve Green.
* * * * * *
A beer for Joe (Part 2)
That was eight days ago, I've spent each one of those evenin's since then sittin' on Joe's porch, enjoyin' the late sunshine, enjoyin' the catchin' up. We took it in turns to supply the beer.
He told me about how his family was doin' really good, an' I felt the pride swell in me when I told him about my own, how I became a great-grandaddy four years ago, about my grandson's promotions in the Police Department, and anythin' else I could bring to mind.
Not all of the catchin' up was good. I fought back the tears when Joe told me about his heart attack, and the time he spent in hospital. I should have been there for him, but because of that stupid argument I didn't even know it had happened.
“Don't make no never mind.” He said. “What's gone an' done, is gone an' done. You're here now, an' that matters to me, yup, it sure does.”
I drained my bottle and placed it on the porch planking at the side of my rocker. I wasn't feelin' too strong today, in fact I was feelin' kinda strange, like I was hollow inside, and my head was kinda woozy, dreamy sort of. I shook my head a few times to clear my thoughts and vision, it helped a little.
We'd been chewin' the fat a-while, and were now both sittin' quiet, thinkin' own own thoughts, soakin' up the last of the day's warmth as we watched the sun settin'.
Joe's voice broke the easy silence.
“Sure is another beautifu.......... Oh my... Oh.”
Joe's leg straightened suddenly, and his boot heel made a kinda scrapin' noise on the boards. I heard the clunk as his beer bottle hit the wooden floor on the other side of his chair.
I turned to face him, his body was arched backwards, left hand clutching at his chest.
As he slumped back in his rocker, his face, twisted into an agonised grimace suddenly relaxed, slackened, and paled, his hands fell loosely to his sides.
“Joe?... Joe?"
I grabbed a-hold of his hand, already knowin' the truth of it. I kneaded his fingers between my own, as though I could squeeze some life back into him from myself.
“Joe?.. Joe....?”
The woozy feelin' flooded through me again, stronger this time. I sat back down in my own chair, still gripping Joe's hand tightly.
I needed to get up, get to the phone, call for help, but my body just didn't want to move.
My tablets were in my pocket, and I didn't have the strength to reach for them.
As Joe's fingers began to cool in my grip, I could feel my own body begin to cool too. The hollow feelin' returned, I could feel the life slidin' away from me like water drainin' from a bath tub. I laid my head back as the strange, dreamy feelin' washed through me again.
“Goodbye my old friend.” I managed to whisper.
I took a last, long look at the setting sun as it went down behind the hill.
A feeling of calm and peacefulness filled my whole being as I began to fade away, I wasn't alone, and I wasn't afraid.
I swear I could hear beautiful singing as the darkness took us both to our final sleep.
The End.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
The original story “A beer for Joe” was written as a stand-alone piece, this week I decided to write this follow-on, anyone wishing to refresh their memory, or to read Part 1 for the first time can find it here:- A beer for Joe.
Thank you for reading.
Steve Green.
* * * * * *
A beer for Joe (Part 2)
That was eight days ago, I've spent each one of those evenin's since then sittin' on Joe's porch, enjoyin' the late sunshine, enjoyin' the catchin' up. We took it in turns to supply the beer.
He told me about how his family was doin' really good, an' I felt the pride swell in me when I told him about my own, how I became a great-grandaddy four years ago, about my grandson's promotions in the Police Department, and anythin' else I could bring to mind.
Not all of the catchin' up was good. I fought back the tears when Joe told me about his heart attack, and the time he spent in hospital. I should have been there for him, but because of that stupid argument I didn't even know it had happened.
“Don't make no never mind.” He said. “What's gone an' done, is gone an' done. You're here now, an' that matters to me, yup, it sure does.”
I drained my bottle and placed it on the porch planking at the side of my rocker. I wasn't feelin' too strong today, in fact I was feelin' kinda strange, like I was hollow inside, and my head was kinda woozy, dreamy sort of. I shook my head a few times to clear my thoughts and vision, it helped a little.
We'd been chewin' the fat a-while, and were now both sittin' quiet, thinkin' own own thoughts, soakin' up the last of the day's warmth as we watched the sun settin'.
Joe's voice broke the easy silence.
“Sure is another beautifu.......... Oh my... Oh.”
Joe's leg straightened suddenly, and his boot heel made a kinda scrapin' noise on the boards. I heard the clunk as his beer bottle hit the wooden floor on the other side of his chair.
I turned to face him, his body was arched backwards, left hand clutching at his chest.
As he slumped back in his rocker, his face, twisted into an agonised grimace suddenly relaxed, slackened, and paled, his hands fell loosely to his sides.
“Joe?... Joe?"
I grabbed a-hold of his hand, already knowin' the truth of it. I kneaded his fingers between my own, as though I could squeeze some life back into him from myself.
“Joe?.. Joe....?”
The woozy feelin' flooded through me again, stronger this time. I sat back down in my own chair, still gripping Joe's hand tightly.
I needed to get up, get to the phone, call for help, but my body just didn't want to move.
My tablets were in my pocket, and I didn't have the strength to reach for them.
As Joe's fingers began to cool in my grip, I could feel my own body begin to cool too. The hollow feelin' returned, I could feel the life slidin' away from me like water drainin' from a bath tub. I laid my head back as the strange, dreamy feelin' washed through me again.
“Goodbye my old friend.” I managed to whisper.
I took a last, long look at the setting sun as it went down behind the hill.
A feeling of calm and peacefulness filled my whole being as I began to fade away, I wasn't alone, and I wasn't afraid.
I swear I could hear beautiful singing as the darkness took us both to our final sleep.
The End.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
Friday, 2 March 2012
Folded
I was truly saddened when I heard about Jimmy Chang going down for murder.
I never knew a more gentle person in the whole of my life.
T'ai Chi was his thing, and origami, he just loved to make all kinds of wonderful and intricate shapes with paper.
It is said that when the thugs broke into his home and threatened his family something inside him just snapped.
I shudder to think of the shape those thugs might have been in by the time the cops got there.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
I never knew a more gentle person in the whole of my life.
T'ai Chi was his thing, and origami, he just loved to make all kinds of wonderful and intricate shapes with paper.
It is said that when the thugs broke into his home and threatened his family something inside him just snapped.
I shudder to think of the shape those thugs might have been in by the time the cops got there.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
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