Prompts – Venue

Not sure where this came from…

Going to try do prompts this month. Kind of stream of consciousness stuff as I don’t have time for all that planning or editing lark. Am aiming for about 1000 words a day. Let’s see how it goes. They may be dross, but sometimes it is just fun to write and see what comes out without too much thinking…

First up is Fandango’s One Word Challenge.. The inspirational word was ‘Venue’.

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Snow fell slowly and settled on the cold hard ground as the moon climbed high above the city, her bright lights and pulsating neon signs silent in the distance. Clad in steepling steel and concrete, she was a cruel mistress, wringing every ounce of good intention from those she took to her breast, and making them bend to her irresistible will just to survive.

The clang of steel on rock rang out and a heavy set man, draped in a thick dark coat, cursed as he shovelled reluctant clods of frozen earth into a growing pile.

“Next time maybe you bring two shovels,“ he said, breathing heavily and peeling off his coat, throwing it to a smaller man who was leaning up against the side of a battered 1972 Ford Pinto drawing deeply on a cigarette. The orange glow lit up his sharp features and deep set eyes.

“Hey, watch the wheels, “ he said, catching the coat and placing it on the roof of the car. The Pinto had been a thing of beauty once, long ago, with her smooth curves, emerald green paint and heavy steel fenders.

Now, the only good thing about her was the size of her trunk. Easily big enough for a grown man. Two at a push.

“Shuddup Benny, I don’t see why I always have to dig the holes.”

“Romeo – you know full well that is on account of my back,” said Benny. “Never been the same since Krakow, you remember that, right? Saved your life in that shit storm. Twice as I recall. Remember the place – lovely little venue for a shootout.”

Romeo continued to shovel the cold dirt. “He still alive in there?” he asked.

Benny took out his keys and opened the trunk of the Pinto and a cascade of profanity spilled out into the night, he then slammed it closed again, locking it once more.

“Yup,“ said Benny, finishing the cigarette and tossing the glowing butt into the hole. “Alive and kicking. Easiest ten thousand we’ve ever made.”

Romeo looked up In mid shovel.

“What?” protested Benny, a mischievous grin on his face. “Come on, keep digging, it’s cold out. Shallow will be fine.”

Romeo exploded. “Its Fucking frozen, FROZEN. You wanna try?”

“What you suggesting,” said Benny, “Think we should just let him go. Leave him to wander off, leave him to the cayotes? All because the ground’s a bit frozen?”

Romeo paused for a moment.

“You’re right, he’s gonna get what’s coming to him, he ain’t getting no favours. He’s a piece of shit and I wouldn’t jizz on him if he was on fire, he needs to …”

“Mother fucking what did you just say?” said Benny bursting into fits of laughter.

“That he has to pay?”  

“Sweet baby Jesus, no, what you talking about jizzing on him?” said Benny, almost bent double, tears streaming down his face.

“It’s a saying,” said Romeo, brow furrowed and feeling even more annoyed. “I wouldn’t jizz on him if he was on fire…”

Benny fell back, collapsed against the Pinto.

“Piss, “ he said between gasps and laughter. “You wouldn’t PISS on him. It’s piss”

Romeo leaned on his shovel, glaring at Benny.

“It is not,“ he said, “It’s jizz. It’s about not wasting jizz.”

Benny creased up, barely able to breathe.

“Why would you…fuck Romeo…” was all Benny could manage.

“Piss isn’t a waste,“ Romeo continued, quite seriously. “No one cares about wasting piss. Throw piss on a fire and it might smell but that’s not a sin like wasting jizz. I’m a good Catholic boy Benny, we don’t waste our jizz like you protestants. Especially not on things on fire.”

Benny slid down the side of the car onto the ground, hysterical and clutching his stomach.

“Oh just give me the fucking keys,“ Romeo insisted. “Where’s the gun. I’ll do everything shall I…”  

Prompts – Gather

Waffling away as best I can in July.

Going to try do prompts this month. Kind of stream of consciousness stuff as I don’t have time for all that planning or editing lark. Am aiming for about 1000 words a day. Let’s see how it goes. They may be dross, but sometimes it is just fun to write and see what comes out without too much thinking…

First up is Fandango’s One Word Challenge.. The inspirational word was ‘Gather’.

https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/79388113/posts/4786274648

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Beyond the satellites they gathered, glistening hulks of steel and wrath, bristling with a thousand glowing barrels, ready to blast and pulse their way to victory over the unsuspecting planet below.

The Jengati had arrived first, a dozen of their most ferocious Class A ‘Blastemup’ cruisers settling into orbit, the moon glancing off of the endless angry angles that made up the ship which left you wondering which way was up and where the threat would come from. Everywhere was the answer, the threat came from everywhere.

Next to arrive was an advance party of Zex War fighters, smaller in size, but just as ferocious. They zipped and darted around the Jengati fleet, and there was a moment when it seemed that they would engage each other before sense prevailed. After a short lunch consisting mostly of Paraxial death-beer they both decided that sharing the spoils was not going to be a problem given just how much there was to go around, and that they all now needed a lie down to recover from lunch and shooting and explosions was only going to make the inevitable hangover even worse.

By the time the Balorians and the Holy Upper Order of Sleen turned up, things were getting a little cramped. The airwaves were filled with chatter and bluster of the fleet commanders, each staking a claim of this newly discovered planet for their empire. Some needed the natural resources, others made claims for colonisation settlements, and others wanted the population for the slave markets – a new species always created a huge buzz on the sub-net. And generally each quite enjoyed a spot of shooting and blasting too, so if that could be thrown in then that would be just great and thank you very much.

Admiral Blaarg of the Jengati sent out an all ships broadcast to any craft on the pan-planet frequency. Vid screens flickered across the com decks of the gathered ships, and his bulbous form flashed across the screens. His jade green uniform hugged his lumpy body, from which two stumpy arms protruded and they were topped with were a close approximation of fingers which were as close to being folded in the area where one might imagine his lap to have been. Protruding eyes sat wide upon his face, and a broad wide mouth sat uncomfortably just where a nose might have been. There was definitely space for a nose, but it seemed evolution had other ideas and apparently thought it far too much effort and had given up at eyes and a mouth, thinking that good enough of a job and had promptly proceeded to making several internal organs surplus to biological requirements, but leaving them in place anyway, just for giggles.

Blaarg coughed, and positioned himself squarely in his chair.

“To all assembled vessels, this is admiral Blaarg of the Jengati empire. We stake first claim and discoverers obligations in the name of our peoples and planets.”

There was a moments pause as the assembled craft waited for the translator circuits to process.

“Point of order,“ came a high pitched reply from Fleet Marshall Elver of the Balorians. “The planet was discovered by the Aquillan council, and not Jengati. The full and proper study was completed, all assets logged, all lifeforms catalogued, and all appropriate documentation completed – in triplicate. On that basis a fair and proper distribution of resources should be made equitably between all parties arriving and logging their intentions with one Aquillan cycle.”

“The study was completed when chaired by the Jengati at that cycle,” insisted Blaarg abruptly. “And on that basis we demand that…”

Bedlam broke out across the comms.

The Balorian grinned at the cacophony, the thick rows of teeth deep set in his cavernous mouth showing his pleasure. His scales flushed pink and blue, iridescent in the reflected light of the comms panel.

Blaarg thundered about galactic charters and consequential responsibilities written in charter. The Holy Upper Order of Sleen’s Grand Master informed everyone that would listen that he would happily inform the Jengati where to shove their charter, upon which the Jengati suggested that was hardly speech worthy of a Holy Order. In turn the Holy Order duly started to inform Jengati that the wrath of the sons of a thousand worlds would be unleashed upon them.

However, before anything was able to be unleased on anyone, there was a short series of intermittent beeps followed what sounded like the grand opening bars of an opera. Horns blared and a heavy drum thundered. It was likely the sort of opera where love is about to be declared by a tight trousered lothario, which is most certainly rebuffed, and dramatic angst and consternation in song is to follow.

And angst and consternation seemed to be quite suddenly painted on the faces collected ship commanders.

“You have go to be shitting me,“ exclaimed the Zex group captain, his head in his hands.

Blaarg had muted his microphone but could be seen on the vid screen gesticulating wildly and becoming decidedly and quite visibly more bulbous as he did so.

The Grand Wizard, commander of the Holy Order fleet straightened himself, sat upright in his chair and pulled opened a comms channel.

“Welcome your emissaries,” he said in a calm and measured voice. “To what do we owe this pleasure?” he asked.

For a while there was nothing as the fleets waited. Once more the operatic music played, tailoring off until there was silence. A logo flashed up across all channels. 3 gold coins against the backdrop of a bright supernova suspended on a set of scales.

“Esteemed lords of the fleets, how convenient it is that we have arrived at this time, “ said a thin sharp voice. “My name is Val-Corvano, and I am the district manager of the Galactic Bank, and we are here to register our interest in the assets of this planet against the debts of your givernments”

Each of the captains sighed, warbled, or choked – whichever was appropriate for the expression of disgust, shock or wild disappointment.

The Grand Wizard muted his comms.

“What is it your eminence?” said the communications chief. “Is there a problem?”

“Accountants, “ said the Grand Wizard, his face forlorn and shoulders drooping. ”Tell the engine room to spin up the light drives, we’re heading home. There’s no fun to be had once the accountants arrive.”