2658. Oh that’s terrible

It wasn’t a good time for Beatrice. She found herself dreaming of what she would do if her husband of eleven years would pass away. They had plenty of money. They had drifted apart. She would perhaps go on a world trip. She would buy a new wardrobe just for herself. She would sell the house and buy a property with a little lake. There was so much to dream about.

Of course she knew she shouldn’t indulge in such fantasies. Her husband’s death would be a sad time; a very, very sad time. But wouldn’t it be wonderful to be independent again and do whatever she liked when and where?

It was a Thursday and husband Vaughan was driving home. He had just been to the doctor. “I’m sorry,” said the doctor, “but it’s terminal. I would give you a month at the most.”

Vaughan arrived home. He told Beatrice. Beatrice’s heart missed a beat. “Oh that’s terrible,” she said.

1988. Granny’s gift

It was the year 2064. Mary (such an old-fashion, uncreative name for the 2060s) had come across some old (really old) family videos. They were in a box in the attic. At first she didn’t know what they were. Then a friend suggested they were videos and Mary spent quite some time going from expert to expert to find out how they should be played. Eventually a state-of-the-art studio managed to copy them for Mary onto her Clockdropia.

The first one she watched was labelled “The Family – 1991”. Mary didn’t recognize anyone in it, and presumed (even though the house with the attic where they were found had been in the family for generations) that the video was not of her own family.

The second video was more revealing. Mary recognized her late grandmother when her grandmother appeared to be in her teens. Grandmother was holding paper bags, and in them she said were wads of money. “Wads and wads of money. I’ll show you where I’m going to hide them so that a person in the future who finds and watches this video is welcome to get the money and become instantly rich!”

Would you believe! The paper bags were under a loose floorboard in the corridor cupboard. It was a miracle the house hadn’t burnt down accidentally or that the house hadn’t been sold or that someone hadn’t accidentally stumbled across the bags of money while returning the vacuum cleaner to the corridor cupboard. Mary went to the cupboard immediately.

There underneath the floorboards were bags. Inside each bag was an unbelievable pile of money. Mary counted it. It came to just over four hundred thousand dollars!

Goodness! It was 2064. What does one do with worthless paper money? Mary chucked everything into the dumpster.

1871. Good morning, Creative Writing Class

The Head of the Laboratory was an arch-bastard. His name was Regis. As his name suggests, he thought he was King of the Roost. He ruled the laboratory technicians with an iron fist. They hated him, but the laboratory had such an extraordinary reputation that everyone under the sun wanted to work there.

This was the laboratory that pioneered taking bones of long dead creatures, especially humans, putting them together, and bringing them to life. This might sound ridiculous but it is four hundred years ahead of where you, Dear Creative Writing Class, are currently sitting in your backward and immovable mind set.

Regis decreed that his bones should be reassembled and infused with life. He was not particularly enamoured with the thought of getting old, so he did himself in, and he left specific instructions that he was to be immediately reassembled.

I know what you’re thinking, Dear Creative Writing Class. You’re thinking that the laboratory technicians refused to put him back together. You would be wrong. Perhaps you’re thinking that the laboratory technicians muddled his bones up with those of a crocodile or something. You would be wrong. Perhaps they put his legs on backwards. You would be wrong.

No! What happened was this:

 

1855. Fate deals the cards

Olga stumbled across a free online webpage that would interpret the four tarot cards clicked on. The entire deck of cards was spread out, face down. Things hadn’t been going well for Olga recently and she was searching for something positive to cling to. She had been threatened by strangers several times in the past week because she had been seen going into a fast food establishment that was no longer considered woke.

Olga clicked on four cards, even though she thought that such things online were bogus hocus-pocus. The four cards when clicked on turned their faces up. An interpretation of the selected cards was proclaimed by a computerized voice.

The first card shows that you are insecure and do not know whether or not to accept a recent invitation to a birthday party. Go! Go to the party!

That’s true, thought Olga. I have been invited to Elaine’s birthday party at the solstice and I wasn’t keen to go.

The second card indicates what sort of gift you should bring to the birthday party. Nothing too expensive; nothing too ostentatious. Just a pleasant gift that the person would enjoy.

How right that is, thought Olga. I am so pleased I bought Elaine a simple peace lily in a lovely pot.

The third card indicates someone else at the party whom you meet for the first time. It could be a person of the opposite sex. The card indicates that they will become a significant person in your life.

That is so exciting, thought Olga. I’m well into the marriageable age and have yet to find Mister Right.

The fourth and final card indicates…

It was then that Olga’s phone rang. Hello. Hello, said Olga. It was Elaine. Could Olga email her the online address for party games she had told her about? Sure she could. She would do so immediately.

What a shame that Olga never heard the reading for the remaining card she had selected. Otherwise she may not have been murdered at the party by “Mister Right”.

1818. A bird’s-eye view

It had been an inconvenience. Owing to the huge amount of looting going on during the week that the government banned all cigarettes – just for the week mind you – it was dangerous to venture outside from early dusk to late dawn. “Stay inside” was the government’s cry. It was both a command and a warning. Those seen venturing out after six in the evening would be shot.

The curfew had at least one good thing coming out of it; there were no traffic accidents between dusk and dawn. For the whole week there were no deaths on the roads. Those whose lives had been spared because of the curfew naturally had no idea that their lives had been spared. If there had been no curfew they would be dead.

Of course, being a writer gives one a bird’s-eye view. We know who was spared and who was not. I’m telling you now: Elwin Frisby was spared. He had sat at home in a bad mood. Here he was nineteen years old, and locked up at his parents’ home on a Saturday night. A Saturday night! What a difference it may have made to his mood if he had been able to be told that if it wasn’t for the curfew he would be in a body bag lying on a shelf in a morgue somewhere.

There are other things we writers glean from our bird’s-eye view. Elwin Frisby eventually married Anita and they had three children. One of them was Cornelius. Cornelius became the greatest tyrant in the history of the country. Thousands died at his hand. He was a raging megalomaniac.

How much better it would have been if years earlier there had been no curfew and his father had been killed off in a car accident. But who was to know?

Poem 88: The stream that flows near my house

The stream that flows near my house
comes from goodness knows where
and goes to goodness knows where.

I never visit it with dull skies,
but some days when sparkles shake the water
the dog takes a bath.

Has the stream perhaps scampered passed death;
a wild pig’s corpse
or maybe a tatty rotting bird?

Has it greeted fish of every sort;
eels and trout,
and cockerbullies* cowering in caverns?

Have the rough, rocky tumbles
bestowed both cheer and fear
on this joyful jolly journeyman jongleur?

Today I see it hubbubs happily on,
forgiving its past
and singing only of tomorrow’s adventures.

* Small New Zealand freshwater fish.

 

To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.

990. When this generation gets old

Don’t think that when the clever boys and girls of today get old, that they will have lost their ability to be clever.

Way down the track, miles from hence, Granny Boyle was angry; real angry. Some upstart-little-technological-savvy twerp had thought it fun to digitally go into the innards of Granny’s microwave’s electronics, and with the push of a button on a cell phone, make Granny’s microwave explode. Just as Granddad was using it. It killed him. Granny Boyle wasn’t simply sad; she was furious.

Getting her own cell phone, she started pressing numbers. Tap tap tap. Click click click. She pressed the final button.

“Hopefully,” said Granny, “that will have exploded the technological-savvy twerp’s phone and blown their head off.”

Listen to the story being read HERE!

920. Futuristic memo

Hi Sweetie. We’re going to have to put grandma down. She’s 114 and keeps having babies.

I wonder when you take her in if you can get the cat done at the same time. It’s piddling on the floor. It’s been a good cat. I’ll be sad to see it go.

To listen to the story being read click HERE!

813. Happy New Year… again!

It was New Year’s Day! What an exciting year lay ahead for Jocelyn! Her youngest daughter was expecting twins in March! A granddaughter was to be married in April! Jocelyn and hubby would celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary in July; they were going to Vienna! Jocelyn was putting in a fishpond! I know it’s a silly thing, but Jocelyn had always wanted a fishpond, and it was in the making! No water yet, she was letting the concrete “season”. Not to mention all the little delightful things that could happen in the coming year, such as going for walks, and camping trips, and… and… just smelling the flowers!

Oh what a happy day! The children and their spouses and all the grandchildren came for lunch! Jocelyn had prepared simply cold meats and salads.

Everyone had a great time. And so, Dear Reader, may you have a wonderful year too! This story goes to show that bad things don’t always happen in these tales. So many of you are so darn cynical, expecting me to kill everyone off in a story. But no one drowned in the fishpond, for example. That comes later. The fishpond’s not finished yet.

To listen to the story being read click HERE!

716. Humbot

It was the year 2127. Minniebella267 gave birth to a humbot. A humbot is half human half robot. How did she do it?

“It’s quite easy,” gushed Minniebella267 on Facebook. “You’ve simply got to know how to turn a robot on.”

Listen the story being read HERE!