Friday, 30 December 2011

Hippie New Year

New years eve. 23:02

Less than an hour now, man.

I'm going clean at midnight. I've been smoking the stuff for so long now man, it's like.. err..addled my brain... I think.... Maybe... Maybe not... I'm not sure... I can't seem to think straight any... y'know... like... err... any more.

I finished rolling the joint and fired it up. Puffed furiously on it, smoked as fast as I could, I wanted to get as much inside me before midnight as possible, one final splurge.

I'm not giving it up for y'know for like health reasons or nothin' like that, man, everyone knows that a joint a day is medicinal, y'know... don't they man? So my dozen or so a day must have turned me into a super healthy untapped well of sprints, push-ups and star jumps, an' other y'know, like athletic stuff. And god knows, all the relaxing I do must be beneficial too, man.

They say it's addictive, oh man that's such a load of cobblers, I smoke it all the time man, so I should know.. like... y'know... know what I'm talking about.


I stubbed the roach out in the ashtray, grabbed the makings and started working on another.

Y'know, man... I've heard people say that it can cause y'know like.. err... delusions an' paranoia. That's bull, man... Total bull! And when I get to be king of Europe the first thing I'm gonna do is bring out a law making rumours like that illegal.

An' paranoia, I'm gonna make that illegal too, well, I will if nobody manages to get to me first, cos kings have... err... y'know... enemies, lots of enemies. I think so long as I sleep with my head under the covers I should be okay though, I mean... if they can't see me they can't get to me, can they? They can't... can they?


Stub. Grab. Roll. Light.

Yeah, I feel good, man. I can't really see my health improvin' at all when I go clean. My mate Jethro says that as long as the blood I err... y'know... err... vomit up every morning ain't coagulated then I have nothing to worry 'bout, an' he knows... err... y'know... err... knows what he's talking about, man... he's been using the stuff for years too.


Stub. Grab. Roll. Light.

The last one, yeah, definitely the last one, man. Jethro won't half be surprised when I errr... when I err... tell him I'm going clean. He won't understand of course. Well, what is there to understand about it, man? Nothing, that's what. I think... or maybe something. I'm not sure.


I grabbed my stash and went into the bathroom, took a final drag from the joint then threw it into the pan, as I exhaled I upended the polythene bag and poured the contents from that into the pan too.

With a feeling of supreme confidence and superiority I pulled the chain and flushed the weed out of my life.


I can already feel the new me coursing through my veins, I feel on top of the err... on errr... top of the world, man.


All this new me coursing through my veins is making me kinda jumpy, y'know man... like... err... edgy.
What was that noise? Why am I itching all over like this? Why do I feel so restless?

I picked up the phone and punched the numbers.

The phone rang, and rang, what the hell was he doing that was taking him so long to pick up? Friends are supposed to be there for each other aren't they?

Aaaah... At last!

“Jethro? Hiya man, what're ya up to? ... Uh? Oh... sorry man, tell Babs I'm sorry too. Look I need you to come over... Yeah, like... err.. now man, I'm having some kind of panic attack and I can't face it on my own, I need you here with me man.... And Jethro?... Bring your stash with you man, I seem to have run out.”

What the... err... what the... err... hell, next year man... next year I'm definitely gonna go clean man.

©2011 Stephen. J. Green.

Happy New Year everyone.

Friday, 23 December 2011

The happiest Christmas ever

Several feet beneath the antarctic ice crust the hull of the immense mothership gave out a low hum as the crew initiated engine start-up. Inside the operations room the final briefing was under way with all chief military and scientific personnel present.

Senior scientist Jabal addressed the room.

“After many years of planning and development the moment is finally here. The strike ships are all programmed with their individual target co-ordinates, altitudes and pace of dispersal. The mission-to release the developed virus into the cloud cover, which will then be brought to Earth via the forecasted snowfall.”

“Why can't we just release the virus directly into their atmosphere?” This from the strike commander.

“The virus is extremely complex and volatile, it will only follow the required behavioural pattern within minute parameters of element combinations and temperatures. The virus will bond to the snow crystals, separating at an altitude of zero to thirty feet from the ground. The virus then reaches the second phase triggered by the slightly higher temperature and altered oxygen and nitrogen combination. After ingestion, either through the skin, or any orifice, the virus begins to attack and destroy the central nervous system, while at the same time causing the subject to experience a state of extreme euphoria...”

“Euphoria? What is that?” Interrupted one of the military staff.

“Happiness.” Replied Jabal. “To the humans euphoria is a state of extreme happiness. This euphoria will intensify as the virus strengthens, and will continue until the moment of death. This would be from several minutes to several days depending on many physical and physiological variables within the subject. The euphoria will work in our favour... the humans will die happy”

“How many other species will be affected by the strike?” This from Under-officer Eybro.

“None. Only the dominant species will be harmed by the virus.” Answered Jabal. “Humans, the biological make-up of the virus causes it to ignore all other life forces.”

“What is the success rate of the virus?” The commander enquired.

“Absolute.” Jabal said, confidently. “There are no recovery percentages, no immunity percentages.”

“Surely there will be some survivors, the snow clouds are not due to cover the whole planet, and as we know, some countries are too warm to have snow.” From the commander again.

“The snow clouds will drift, spreading the virus further than the initial cover area. Most of the warrior nations will be annihilated, of the ones that are left, there will be insufficient co-ordinated force remaining to pose any serious threat to our invasion force. The planet will be ours.”

Several hours later hundreds of strike craft running under stealth shields released their payloads into the dense cloud mass that covered the whole of continental America, and over ninety percent of the northern hemisphere.

Just before midnight on Christmas eve the first flakes of snow began to drift down on New York City.

“Hey folks.” Said the jubilant TV announcer. “The countdown to Christmas day starts in less than a minute, and for all you snow lovers out there, the weatherman says that for almost everyone in the world this year it's gonna be a white one. Happy Christmas everyone, and may it be the happiest Christmas ever”

Background music tuned in with the mellow tones of Bing Crosby...

“I'm dreamin' of a white Christmas....”

Happy Christmas everyone.

©2011 Stephen. J. Green.

Friday, 16 December 2011

Breathe and push

“That's it darling, breathe... breathe and push... breathe and push.”

My own breath was ragged in my throat, my heart pumping furiously.

“You're doing great darling, breathe... breathe deeply... that's it... breathe and push... breathe and push. C'mon darling... nearly there... nearly there...”

I spoke to her in a gentle and encouraging tone, she was in pain, and it was all my fault.

When I had first suggested we do it she hadn't wanted to. I can still hear her response now.

“I don't want to do it.” She had said with utter conviction.

But the urge was upon me, I had never done it before, I had heard so much about it and desperately wanted to try it. It sounded so exciting, stimulating, satisfying, and I thought maybe the exercise would be good for us.

I begged, cajoled, pestered, sulked, hinted... all to no avail. She still wasn't for giving in.

Until Christmas eve.

We were cuddled up on the couch, both feeling the glow of the after dinner drinks. She draped her arms around my neck and nibbled on my ear.

“If you could have a Christmas wish come true, what would you wish for? She whispered.

“You know what I want to do, what I want us to do together.” I answered. I could feel expectation rising. Hope blossoming.

“Okay then darling, let's do it.”

“Only if you really want to... I mean, you don't want to do it just to satisfy me, do you? You really want to do it too, don't you?”

“Yes darling I do, I know how much it means to you, and so I'm going to make your Christmas wish come true.”

We embraced, kissed passionately, and made beautiful, beautiful love.

* * * * *

The happy event would take place in the last week of September.

As the spring came, then drifted into summer I could tell she was having doubts. The closer the date came the more afraid she seemed to be that things would not go well. And although she never mentioned it, I could tell she was unhappy about the weight she had put on over the last few months. I tried to reassure her, she would always be beautiful to me.

And now all the waiting was over.

* * * * *

“Nearly there darling, nearly there... just keep pushing. Just keep breathing... and pushing”

She gulped air, emitting a small high-pitched grunt on each exhale, on each push.

I lifted my head and turned sideways to look at her, it saddened me to see her like this. Her face contorted, straining, with each breath hard fought for. Every ounce of her being, every fibre of her muscles, every calorie of energy, every inch of her willpower, all channelled and focused into the act of breathing and pushing.

And it was all my fault. It had been my idea, my need to experience, my selfishness that had led us to this moment.

I wanted to reach across to her, to hold her hand, but couldn't. I was afraid to let go.

I wanted to offer more encouragement but couldn't find the strength to speak.

And I was so proud of her. Proud of her for agreeing to do it. Proud of her for loving me enough to do it with me.

My heart really went out to her. Cycling up this steep mountain road was probably one of the hardest things I had ever done in my life, and she had matched me pedal push for pedal push.

As we reached the summit, and began the free-wheel descent down the other side, both of us puffing and blowing, I decided that maybe she had been right all along.

The bicycle riding mountain tour had looked so good in the brochure, and last Christmas she had secretly booked it for us as my present knowing that it was something that I really wanted to do. I don't think I realised just how much hard work was going to be involved, neither of us was any where near fit enough to take on something like this.

I think the next time I come up with one of my bright ideas for an adventure holiday and she says “I don't want to do it.” I may just take more notice.

©2011 Stephen. J. Green.

Friday, 9 December 2011


I woke up this morning feeling totally shattered. My night had passed in a kaleidoscope of fragmented dreams and broken sleep. As the first rays of light cracked through the window my unfocused mind flickered with splintered thoughts and fractured logic. The more I tried to snap out of this mood the more I felt I was going to pieces, falling apart.

All in all, I felt rather fragile.

I think maybe I'll go to the pub tonight and get absolutely smashed.

©2011 Stephen. J. Green.

Friday, 2 December 2011

Desert fare

I watched them from the scrub line at the top of the desert ridge. The long black robes and pointed hats stood out sharply in silhouette as they danced around the high flames of the fire.

I watched as they discarded their clothes and continued to hop, pirouette, and gyrate around the flames. The pitch of their voices rising and falling, chanting.

I watched as the coven joined hands, completing the circle of sisterhood.

I watched as the circling ceased, and the coven stood and swayed, deep in entrancement.

Then I made my move.

I set off at a sprint, raising the axe high above my head as my feet pounded the soft sand.

The coven, alerted by the rapid footfalls sprang to motion and scattered in alarm, I splintered the skull of the nearest one, as I wrenched the axe free she fell face first onto the scorching fire. I immediately looked for a second target.

After several minutes of futilely chasing flitting shadows I gave up, I had lost the element of surprise, and these witches of the sand were nimble and agile. No matter, one would be enough.

Returning to the fire I dragged the by now well burnt body out of the flames. After leaving her to cool for several minutes I ripped one leg off and took a huge mouthful of meat from the thigh.


I had eaten witchmeat from just about everywhere at some time in my life.

Juicy casserole made from the sinuous tree witches who lived in the eastern forests. They were a bit tough, but made a succulent meal if cooked slowly on a low light, and with plenty of fresh vegetables.

The northern ice witches from the glacial slopes, roasted, then served covered in melted butter with side salad, followed by ice cream and syrup.

The west coast sea witches were a bit salty, and had to be marinated in sauce for a few days first, then mixed with plenty of peppers and spices and curried overnight, served with naan bread and hummus... Mmmmm!

But sitting by a roaring fire gazing up at the star-filled desert night sky, nothing hits the spot quite like a hot toasted sand witch.

©2011 Stephen. J. Green.