Category: surreal


The Invisible Mummy was having another bad day.
 
He’d been causing disturbances at the used car dealership, making mild bits of mayhem by disconnecting computers from wall sockets, smearing windows with bandage grease and pushing Mini Coopers out of their parking spaces. But the inattentive car dealers were too bored, distracted or hungover to notice his disruptions….. http://bit.ly/2uq3By8
 

Langston grimly watched the sad-looking clowns go through their routines. The dire moon, with its grey valleys and thin ponds of aquamarine goo, had enough difficulties, the inhabitants eking out an existence from mined stones and subsisting on common dehydrated fruits and flat slabs of compressed meat simulations, without being reminded of the drearier side of life by downbeat performances.

Moon Clown:

Continued: The Clowns of the Moon

“Bet they got ‘em an awesome snack bar on that thing.” Prusella smacked her gum, her eyes on the aerodynamic FlashMychat capsule in the pink-and-cranberry Tour Launch Aerodome.

“That all you can think about?” groused Dexter. “Food? You got your dim brain fixated on food. This is space you’re going into. Why don’t you get your mind on bigger things?” Dexter scratched the bulging stomach-covering portion of his powder-blue polo shirt. “Like…dog nebulas…or some circumference of something.”

Continued… http://bit.ly/2oKSEWb

My Bad Poetry #23

In the country of the blind men, no one-eyed dogs are kings

except dogs that follow the men who are no longer blind

in the country where bled men wander among the mongrels

no longer in the land where the bland man controls the curs

dug into the lead of the men who handled the course where

the men-eyed dawns of the blonde man underlined the dark blur

of the kind man behind the floor where the grim hand curved or

a bold man kindled a flour time hoard with minstrel’s sore

and more staid men with no sense fell into the cold wet moor.

The Chicken Diaries

A Short Play

Glaring sunlight pours through the windows of a Mexican fast-food chicken restaurant.

Two cooks in orange uniforms busily cook chicken on the grill.  At the counter, Pedro and Jorge stand by the register.  The restaurant is empty of customers.

PEDRO

The funny thing is, I don’t even like chicken.

JORGE

This lady yesterday, she wanted extra hot sauce.

PEDRO

(chuckles)

Yeah, man.  Bet you gave her the sauce.

JORGE

Yeah, man.

PEDRO

(sighing)

Some people, man, they come in, don’t even know what they want.  Makes me crazy, homes.  Order some two piece and I’m like, what’s your sides and they stand there like they don’t know what’s a side.  Do I gotta do the whole list for you?  Cole slaw, corn, beans, tortilla chips.

JORGE
It’s the same sides every day, homes.

PEDRO

It’s not like it changes.  Hey, today we got a 2 piece with corn tortillas and, oh shit, look at this crazy shit: candied yams.  Lima beans and bok choy.  Greek olive salad, homes.

JORGE

Some people don’t pay no attention. They don’t know what sides are around ‘em, what kind of chicken’s in the world, don’t even know where they are.  They be going out of the chicken place, man, which way to the mall, dude, I forgot?

PEDRO

Forget the mall, they don’t even know from the mall.  That shit is so past them.  It’s like, where’s my home, dawg? I don’t know which way in the street to go, I’m so out of it.

JORGE

They get their chicken, they forget how to eat it.  What part goes in the mouth, homes?

PEDRO

Hey, boss, do I eat this hard white part that’s all round and looks like a q-tip?

JORGE
What do I do with this rubbery part, homes, that slides around and gets slippery and shit?

PEDRO

Do I got to mash this shit up? Or do I put it on a chip?  What the fuck?

JORGE

Yeah, some homies is messed up.

(sighs, looks out the window)

There’s a lot of chicken in this restaurant, homes.  Some chicken maybe nobody will eat.

PEDRO

Word.

 

Pedro leans against the counter.  Jorge leans back against the wall, and straightens his name tag.

CURTAIN

Ever since my tweet about skeletons on vacation in Bermuda (‘Snorkel? Do I look like I need a snorkel?’) lots of readers might have been wondering, what are your tips for writing about skeletons? Like any subject matter that involves lots of shiny white bones and perfectly skin-free skulls, there are important rules to observe when writing about skeletons in order to come up with a piece of writing that’s entertaining, enjoyable and not too gross. Here are ten of the most important:

1. Know your skeleton’s back story. A skeleton that belonged to a little boy from Fresno will act in a totally different way than a skeleton that belonged to a trucker from Tampa. Hint: The Fresno skeleton will be smaller.

2. Stay away from skeleton romance. The skeleton erotica genre is a tricky one and best handled by experts. If you must include a sexual element, try having your skeleton seductively fondle a rubber Halloween skull mask.

3. Watch out for clichés. As in any genre, certain stories in skeleton fiction have been done to death. Your readers don’t need to see yet another story about the young skeleton boy who loses his beloved skeleton dog. Especially in a freeway accident.

4. You can’t go wrong with a plot line where your main character tries to cover up sordid misbehavior from their past. We don’t have the phrase ‘skeletons in the closet’ for nothing.

5. Don’t fall into the trap of writing about skeletons only from extreme ends of the socio-economic spectrum or skeletons with so-called ‘magical powers’. There’s still a lot to be written about the plight of the typical middle-class skeleton with no extraordinary abilities.

6. A good heart-tugging scene is the one where your skeleton loses its skull and has to retrieve it from a high school biology classroom. This is always great for a ‘skeletons are people too’ kind of moment.

7. Don’t shy away from controversial issues. Such hot button topics as skeleton euthanasia, ceramic surgery and ‘equal pay for equal bones’ can make for solid stories.

8. Focus on what separates your skeleton from other skeletons. Does it have unusually large eye holes? A missing rib? A femur with an interesting malformation? These are the precise details that will stick in your reader’s mind.

9. Scenes in a restaurant, over dinner? Don’t do it. Just awkward.

10. Finally, your own best guidance for good skeleton writing is probably already deep inside you. Take the time fora long hard look within, and if that still doesn’t work, get an x-ray.

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Don’t forget to check out my novel I Was a Teenage Ghost Hunter: http://amzn.to/1gwPt3U

Like mummies engulfed in jello

They were cranberry-drenched

The black raisin eyes squinting

At a spidery destiny.

They made the intermittent, slip-filled march

into the forest of gauzy brambles

on a miniature mission, but no less harmful for that.

Desiccated bees and abandoned abdomens lay strewn along their path.

Lanterns the size of dwarf pennies did little to assist them

Giving each other distrustful stares,

they tramped above ever soggier leaves,

into a horizon of sarcophagus gray.