Saturday, September 10, 2005

"MY PIRATE POWERS ARE UNSTOPPABLE" is a tiny little tale that exposes what's beneath the eyepatch of a pirate.

Argh !

Today's visual inspiration comes from the very talented Rebecca Chaperon, whose exceptionally literate website does such a great job of grounding whimsy in intelligence that you are left believing she does have a collection of robots that do her every bidding.
Myself & My Associate copy


A pirate's work is never done.

Everyday I wake up early squirly. Even before the man who calls himself my new and improved dad is in the shower trumpetting out the gunk from his nose, I'm working on the treasure maps and plans for the day. After I've poured over the maps long enough so that if they were to fall into enemy hands I would have them memorized, I slip them into the belly of my co-pirate: Natsuki.

Then, after he's gone to work, we eat breakfast in silence because I don't want my mom figuring out what my plans are. She's always so curious. Too curious.

After breakfast I roll Natsuki to school. He's a robot on wheels. I only speak to him in Japanese.

"Tokomate yono sabe. Matta ne," I say to him. I don't know what these words mean but I'm thinking of what I mean and I just say these words. He understands me. That's how smart he is.

The Japanese are the most polite people in the world and they know more about robots than anyone else. I knew Natsuki would make a great co-pirate because even though he's from that kind of world he's rude and wild. If you are rude and wild in Japan then you are extra good at being rude and wild because you have millions of polite people to rebel against. You get a lot of practice offending people.

I know a lot about Japan because my old and outdated dad wanted me to grow up to be the smartest girl in the world, so we had a homestay student live with us. He wanted me exposed to another culture. Midori was quiet and didn't really expose me to anything except a cold once or twice. But when Midori wasn't looking I went through her belongings. I also started reading about Japan in one of the zillions of books my old and outdated dad bought for me.

A pirate must know about everything. I learned that lesson after my mom left my old and outdated dad because he was doing things she didn't know about. Right under her nose.

With Midori. She was too polite to say anything.

"Kakatome sate wa Midori conobe," I say to my co-pirate Natsuki. He understands. Then he smashes himself into a mailbox to be wild and rude.

I let him be wild and rude and I focus on cunning. A pirate must know about cunning and before school starts I always make sure to have any test answers inside my eyepatch. I'm always playing with my eyepatch so Mrs Singleton doesn't think anything of it.

Ahoy, you swarthy bitch !!

Those are some of the things that I have to do and that's just the beginning of the day.

Friday, September 09, 2005

"QUICKSAND MY BELOVED" is a fast fiction that will sink into the sandy vicosity of your heart.

One again I'm pleased to say that visual inspiration has come from the enormously talented Eduardo Recife.


She loved the way he sang in his sleep. Softly yet masculine. Motorhead songs sung in dulcet tones. Awake, he claimed that he couldn't hold a note and that he was tone deaf. This was simply one of a countless number of beautiful peculiarities.

Unfortunately his body consisted of nothing but quicksand.

As much as Samantha loved Jake, she had to accept the fact that she'd never be able to touch him. If her fingers went to his lips, the rest of her hand, arms and body would be sucked into the sandy pull of his body.

Like so many others.

One day it became too much to bear and she filled her pockets full of cement mixed with precious metals. (Her father worked in construction and her mother ran a jewelry shop.) Prepared in such a way, she threw herself in a lake.

Her last wish was that he would never find her. She knew that he could never immerse himself in water without fear of dissipating into a million pieces of mindless sand.

But of course you can see the ending when you look up into your own past; he followed her.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

"FACING THE MIND THAT BIT YOU" is a fast fiction that dives into a pool full of LSD in order to get that twoonie at the bottom. A dip into abstraction for some minor distraction.

Today's illustration comes compliments of the very talented Ehren Salazar. Visit his site to mess around with the masked face of Jean Chretien. Very fun.

Ehren has also illustrated a fast fiction which will be included in a book that I hope wil be in stores sometime soon. The money made from Fast Fictions for the City will go to the InterUrban Gallery.


"They call it a flashback but I would prefer that it be called a flash-in, you see what's going on inside yourself. Flashin'. The universe is flashing you, showing you its true nature, your true nature," he explained to his grandson. "And sometimes it ain't pretty."

"Grampa, are we going to the park today ?" Tommy asked. His eyes were big enough to burst. Blue water balloons filled with fun. Tommy was six.

"We're always at the park. You can always reach out and touch the blue of the sky or the soft green of the grass. Conversely, the fangs of a vicious dog that's off its leash is never far away. There things exist at all times around us. The mind is always lurking in the dark ready to bite."

And grandpa once again stepped out of this plane of existence.

And Tommy played with his glasses.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

"THE ANGEL WHO DREAMED OF BEING A COSMONAUT" is another teany-tiny fast fiction that I'm typing with my nose because my wrists are still sore from the 3-Day Novel Writing Contest.

I would like to thank Eugene Smith for fashioning such a brilliant image. He's done an impressive job of establishing himself as a talented artist through a number of different sites. Check out his monster blog to see for yourself.


After an eternity of hymns, harps and wiping God's ass with delicately perfumed silk, Stan the Angel wanted a change of pace.

"What are you nuts ?! We've got it all," Al shouted in disgust.

"Do we have massage parlours ?"


"Do we have cigarettes ?"


"Do we have just a single second to ourselves in a day ?"


Stan stared at Al whose face, while being exceptionally angelic, was also somewhat vacant.

"I know, I know. One crummy angel can't have it all. Nobody can have it all... except for of course the Big Guy. All I want is to experience total aloneness in space and then a bottle of vodka afterwards to celebrate. Is that too much to ask ?"

Al was too confused to respond.

"I want to be a cosmonaut."

And that's when he was thrown out of heaven in a thunder bolt firing. No two weeks. No severance pay.

No nothing.

Just the blackest of deep space, a belly full of vodka and death.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

"DIALOGUE 33: THE CELEBRITY IMPERSONATOR STALKER" is an extra fast fast fiction just for you. You know who you are.

I really like the way your fingers tap dance on the keyboard.

I like watching you.

Oh I'm totally joking. I'm just trying to warm you up for today's topic: stalking !!"

Special thanks to Jody Weinmann for sending me this photo out of the blue.

Today's fast fiction can be printed out and given to your friends who are studying English as a Second Language.



Mr A: So you dress up like Elvis and then you stalk people ?

Mr B: No, no, no !! I stalk celebrity impersonators. I think they're more interesting than the real thing. There's more of a gap between the persona and the actual person. The stalking... is more satisfying.

Mr A: Sounds like you're really into it.

Mr C: I like building little shrines for minor celebrities. I don't need to stalk them because they're always in my thoughts.
Mr A: Wow. That sounds neat.

Monday, September 05, 2005

"PILLOW TALKS" is my first fast fiction to be written after my gruelling weekend typing away to get the gold at the 3-Day Novel Writing Contest.

My wrists are killing me.

So my fingers will quickly limp through a category 3 short story (short-short-short-story).

I'd like to thank the lovely and talented Marieta Tsenova for providing me with this photo.


He waits five heart beats for her to say something and then he dives into his excuse:

It was one of those days when I had all these songs in my head but they were all being sung by Johnny Cash. You know, like that album of his with all the covers. Like that but with other songs. "I'm a virgin" by Madonna," "We've Got the Beat" by the Go Gos, "Straight outa Compton" by NWA. You know anything but done by the Man in Black.

You know, one of those days. One of those days that come like one in a million years.
I guess that's why I was distracted and I forgot about our anniversary.

You know things get into your head and they push other things out. Important things.

He turns to look to the empty pillow. He imagines the angle at which she'll be looking at him.

The pillow is silent.

When she gets home he'll be ready.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

"MY FIRST THERAPIST" is another lightning bolt of fiction that has struck this exact spot hundreds of times. What are the chances !! Zilch to zip. Where does all that electricity come from ?! Who knows. Can I harness the energy from this lightening bolt and power something like a bandsaw or a blender ? No, the "lightning bolts" that I mentioned are purely metaphorical lightning bolts and simply exist as ideas in our heads.

Today's inspiration comes from the brush of Sonny Liew, a very talented artist whose site is free of pretence and full of fun.


"Well that's why I bought it for her in the first place !" he screams out in a spray of spit. (He has over-active saliva glands which is something else that really pisses him off. This leads to more spitty outbursts of shouts so don't get him started.)

"All I'm saying is that you should have consulted me before making such a large purchase." She too is angry but contains her pissed-offedness in a clenched mouth. (She once had her teeth smashed out while in the front row of a pee-wee hockey game so please don't make jokes about hockey pucks de-teething anyone.)

"But why wouldn't we want her to have a doll that doles out little bits of wisdom ? Advice. It's an advice doll."

"Freudian psychology for a four year old !!"

"A very gifted four year old."

(Yes anyway he's your new boss. I know it may seem strange. Us here in the bushes outside their kitchen window. It's important that you understand him. He actually likes to have new employees see him at home. He has ambitions for all of us. Good luck.)