I could have been on the set of a horror movie – moronic ghouls lurching and traipsing and dribbling. Instead I was in Burger King on the M5.
‘Do you want me to cook it myself?’ a friend complained as he lamented the death of customer service.
‘Ogggg uurrrgg,’ the ghoul replied.
It had been a superb bank holiday spent climbing Snowdon, mooching around Conway castle, endless food, and now we were addling back to Reading, eyes flickering in the grip of a meat-coma and contemplating both the loss of fresh air and a return to work.
A change of scene and a complete (work-related) cerebral shut-down gave rise to gargantuan inspiration and a realisation that I have been slacking of late in my literary quest. Subsequent ideas for short-stories include:
‘Perception and reality’ – a elderly actress is involved in a car accident and mistakenly pronounced dead. Waking up she reads a series of damning obituaries about her endless failure and sets about proving otherwise / turning the tables on the journalists who dismissed her achievements.
‘The one true religion’ – reads like a joke – a priest, vicar, imam, rabbi and Buddhist wake up in a sealed room with no idea how they got there.
‘All the food groups’ – black comedy – plane crash survivors huddle in a dingy and spectacularly fail to get on.
‘Plate-spinning’ – deja-vu, too much work rotations and repetitions.
I’ll post them on www.martincororan.com as soon as they’re ready – plus am recommencing entering some short story competitions…