On Mondays I like to allow myself a little more freedom from the discipline of the more structured writing schedule that I have set for myself and simply do something stupid.
… I had suggested, and I thought quite wittily, that she fetch me a sandwich and a nice cup of tea …
Now as it turns out, across the collective 11256 recognised civilisations registered at the Central Galactic Office for Sentience more than two thirds have something culturally equivalent to a nice cup of tea.
“Bloody hell Charlie! his father shouted, dragging himself upright. “Could you not just give me 5 more minutes like I asked?” His head pounded and Charlie could smell the cigarettes on his breath. “Why cant you just be patient?”
“Do I really have to go out again today?” Mina asked, already knowing the answer but hoping that today might be the day when she wouldn’t have to go out onto the streets.
There were lots of things that he couldn’t remember any more, no matter how hard he tried.
“All I really wanted to do was spend a bit more time down the pub and read a bit, but you should see my foxtrot, I’m not bad you know”
I did some research, worried that smelling like Satan’s anus might be a permanent fixture…
“I think that today I shall stay in the pool” said Hippo as the sun began to creep over the horizon, a fiery line drawn against the silhouette of the hills beyond.
“Imagine the world as a sheet of double ply toilet paper.” Ichabod continued, “This world is one sheet and the other sheet is one of countless others. I exist in-between those two sheets.”
“As scientific explanations go” Armitage snapped, “that is bloody awful!” His breathing quickened, his head started to pound and he started to feel sick again.
Today I walked past your old house and thought of you. With it’s red brick wall and it’s grey slate roof it looked just as it did all those years ago when we first met
That Christmas I asked for a typewriter, thinking that I had found my calling, and I bashed out a few teen angst inspired poems about solitude and rainy days …