Author: R.

Galad (Part 4)

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Andrew Ian Dodge continues the story of Galad:

Unlike some of his fellow mass exterminators; Galad didn’t have an army protecting him from his persecutors. He once had a small army around him to make sure no one got near but that was not really possible in the modern day. He had a few helpers and that was it. His fate would to be stuck in a sound-absorbent padded cell until death. His captors wouldn’t be keen on any chanting or praying lest he calls for help. He would be fed three meals a day. He wondered how long he would take to revert to his true form.

Andrew has a new podcast called Dodging Reality that’s an eclectic blend of various contributors. If you’re got an opinion and a moment to record your thoughts, why not give Andrew a shout and send your recordings his way?

Arthur’s Trick

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Arthur’s trick was he’d take a fruit, turn around, and when he’d turn back a second later he’d have the empty peel in one hand and the fruit in the other hand.
We checked his pockets and his jacket, but he wasn’t concealing an already-peeled fruit anywhere. And if you’d draw something on the rind with a magic marker, that exact mark would be on the peel.
Tommy wanted to watch it happen. He stood behind Arthur, and Arthur turned…
I have never heard a scream like that, animal or human.
We don’t ask Arthur to do the trick anymore.

Galad (Part 3)

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Andrew Ian Dodge continues the creepy saga of… GALAD!

Galad wasn’t known to panic. He generally eliminated his problems without prejudice. He was feeling a bit of it now it has to be said. The delays to the project due to lack of raw materials was getting the Evening Standard interested. And Galad was wise enough to know in his business it was unwise to go around knocking off reporters. He really did need to get some more supplies and quick. His trickle of addicts and homeless from London was not doing the trick. Galad impatiently waited to see if his Scottish source could supply any more from Glasgow.

Robbing the Dead

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Haven’t you robbed enough from the man?
His home.
His son.
His strength.
His life.
Body’s not cold yet, laying on the couch, they’re talking about taking one last thing.
“He’s got one of those dick implant pumps,” Catfish says. “Good model, too.”
“Cut it out, and we’ll sell it in Mexico,” says The Bitch.
They go into the kitchen, looking for knives and a bag.
Don’t need to be delicate when the man’s dead.
“Wait,” says The Bitch.
“Yeah,” says Catfish. “This ain’t right.”
“No,” says The Bitch. “Put him on the floor. We can sell that couch, too.”

Satin

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Andrew Ian Dodge brings us another weekly ponder from The Sage:

The Sage: “Satin. The Devil’s fabric or a friend of the righteous? An odd question you might think one imagines. Anyone who has tried to get frisky on satin sheets knows that it is to leaping on the bed what a wet road is to a 60s Corvette 487. Flying off at speed while in the buff leads to interesting rug burns. Priests wear it, fat women wear it to weddings so it must be righteous right?”
Those on the other end of voice-over-ip conference sat at their computers befuddled… again.
The Sage smirked.

Exploration

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Tina sat on her towel and watched the galleons at anchor.
One lowered a rowboat to the water, and it approached the beach rapidly.
An explorer stepped from the boat, knelt in prayer, and then stuck his flag in the beach to claim it in the name of some queen or another.
“I’m, sorry, but this beach is already claimed,” said Tina.
“How about over there?” asked the explorer, pointing to the South.
“That one’s claimed, too,” said Tina. “Would you like some sandwiches?”
The explorer shook his head, got back into the boat, and rowed out to his galleon.

Weekly Challenge #10 – Eyes

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Welcome to the tenth Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was eyes.
Six stories were submitted this week with three of them being rookie first-timers (technically, Chris Doelle’s tried the format before, he’s never risen to the Weekly Challenge until now), plus the usual madness from the planet of insane bards, Planet Z. Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorite:

Who wrote the best story this week?
Elisson of blog d’Elisson
Chris Doelle of Riding With The Window Down
Kolek from The Kolektive
Lisa of Lemons and Lollipops
Andrew of Dodgeblogium
Sharon of Oh Bladio Blah Blog
The Mystery Man From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


Thanks to everyone for sending in their stories, and I look forward to what you’ve got to write (and say) next week.
The theme will be posted shortly.

Return To Ascender

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“Ever since he came back, he’s been a real dick,” said Luke.
“We were out walking when we saw a boy with a crippled leg,” Matthew said. “He begged to be healed, but Jesus broke his crutch and struck him lame in the other leg.”
“Don’t forget the wine!” said Timothy. “We were going to celebrate his return, but he waves his hands and poof! It’s turned into water.”
“There’s no way we can make this church work with him screwing around,” said Mark. “Finish him off?”
Everybody nodded, and they drew straws.
“We’ll just say he… ascended,” said Luke.

Unlicensed to kill

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Bond’s license to kill was revoked last year because he shot too many bartenders who stirred his martini.
“I said shaken, dammit!” he’d shout. “Shaken!”
Three warnings later, he was disarmed for the good of mixologists around the world.
“What do I do now?” growled Bond as his trademark Walther PPK was returned to the gun vault.
“Run really fast,” said the controller. “Or call the cops.”
Assigned to spy on Taleban slavelords, Bond lasted seventeen hours in the field. He was last seen dialing 999 on his bowtie cellphone as three midget ninjas carved him into itty bitty pieces.

Galad 2

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Andrew Ian Dodge follows the creepy tale of Galad…

Galad slammed the phone down in frustration; his food supplier had been arrested in Dover on his way in with another load.
His arrogance, as was typical with Romania gangsters, had got the better of him. Baiting the BBC had not helped either. It was a hindrance more than a problem; he would now have to deal with the Russians.
“Work” on the fill under the Olympic area would probably end for a few days; as it did not like working hungry. Galad could get a few homeless rounded up to keep things moving; dangerous in London.
People gave a shit here.