Category: Andrew Ian Dodge

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.

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.

Do we have another epic tale from Andrew Ian Dodge in the works?

Galad stood before a large window overlooking London; having just gotten off the phone with his mate Ken.
He specifically bid for the contract to do building nearest the water; the most complicated work over lots of tunnels and sewers.
His company specialised in working underground. They were well-known for their prompt and impressive work. Their digging was always precise and straight. His workers never went on strike; neither were they seen terribly often.
He picked up the phone.
“How long for the load of treats from Eastern Europe. We need it motivated for the next phase.”
He growled coarsely.

Andrew Ian Dodge tells a tale of a mighty crew…

“Get out of here! That…thing down there is coming! I warned them! I told them that it was bad being here! I warned them…”
“What’s coming for us?” I tried to give him a talisman.
“Don’t you understand? He knows I know he’s coming, nothing can save me…”
“You can come with us…”
“No! Then I will doom you too. You must go now!” He shoved us out the door. I caught a glimpse of the books on his desk; books with horrible names. There were odd characters scrawled on pieces of paper.
Cal slammed…bolted the ship’s door…we ran free.

Andrew Ian Dodge puts on his Viking helmet and sings…

Æsa was right, of course, he easily defeated the monster and drove him away from their shores. He taught the village how to make sure they were never bothered again. Helping them inscribe his “rune” on their ships and on their weapons. No other people but those of Birger dared to wear the sign however, merely preferring to have it on things not on their own flesh. Very quickly the Vikings began to venture farther a-field to explore, raid and trade…”
“Is that the real reason they were able to reach the Americas so long before Columbus?” asked Claire glibly.

Andrew Ian Dodge is back with another tale of Rupert…

“So what happened to these poor souls? They look like they have seen the devil himself.”
“With God’s loving grace we should be able to bring them round.”
“I hope so for their sake and yours. I would keep that present of mine handy in case one of them is farther gone than he looks…” Replied Rupert.
“You mean?”
“Yes, we lost one as we left the Monastery, that is what turned the rest of them white-haired.” He said. “Look Father it has been a long night, and you’ll be needed inside. We must be off.”
Rupert didn’t say more.

I need to link Andrew’s new podcast to the sidebar. I’ll hit that tomorrow when I settle down with my first cup of mocha coffee with spice.

Andrew Ian Dodge gets to the bottom of a fishy situation…

Rupert returned to his hotel room a bit flustered. And a little sickened; ok a lot.
Rupert went off to bathroom and looked at his pale face in the mirror. He used some water to clean off his face as if to wash away his fear and loathing for what he had seen, not to mention the smell of the bear costume!
As he walked back to the bed and bundled the furry suits into the office, he grabbed his phone and dialled.
“Sage we’ve got a major problem here mate…” He paused. “The fishies plushies weren’t actually in costumes!”

You’ve been seduced by mammon
Money is your king
You don’t care how you get it on
Even if you have to sin
In pursuit of money
weave your web of lies
Greed makes you ugly
I won’t be your damn alibi
There’s no stopping
Your voracious appetite
Even if they’re married
Your excuse is their marriage ain’t right
I’m no longer party
To your little games
I won’t be a witness
When ya house goes up in flames
People are hurting
As you pursue your fun
Dreaming of big villas
Laying in the midday sun
Sunburn…
Sunburn…I just hope you fry

Ah, yes. A fine tale of twittery by Andrew Ian Dodge:

Sage of Wales: They were both stood at the waters edge, Clive felt his feet getting wet and realised that Sarah was holding on tight. He attempted to wrench free, his libido finally allowing sense to take over.
Sarah: (hissing) Oh stop squirming you twit and get in the sea
Sage of Wales: she tossed him ahead of her making sure his feet got no grip.
Clive: (muffled) Help!
Sage of Wales: In moments he was dragged under the water, convinced that it was more than two hands holding him down.
Sarah: It’s time to meet your real family Clive!

Andrew Ian Dodge gives us… the end of Abdul!

Abdul, drifted down towards the city in the sea. There were a few others like him popping into his sight heading towards the same destination. The odd shapes below began to well up in front of him; as did vague outlines of tentacles twisting in the water. One of these forms grabbed Abdul and began to drag him to the centre of the city. He saw the twisted faces of what looked to be thousands of people before him. Their visages showed pain and suffering in extremis. Abdul sped towards them to join them for eternity. HE had to fed.

(Or is it?)