Tag Archives: superhero

Nemesis Convention…

derelict-building-sandra-crook

‘Last year’s Nemesis Convention was held in a heavily fortified hollowed out volcano!’

Des Troyer slammed the door on his cape and cursed.

‘Times are tough my friend,’ Kat Tastrophy replied menacingly.

‘It looked way nicer on the invitation.’

‘Well, that’s what happens when you miss your sales targets three quarters in a row. Successfully dissolve a few more superheroes in acid and we’ll see about holding the next meeting in space.’

‘Oh no, look, Booby-Trap’s car’s parked out front!’

‘That’ll be where the front door went.’

‘God I hate that infernal temptress, always out-blackmailing me…And I never know where to look!’

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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Nuts Allergy / Allegory…

The starting point is a pug-dog with two broken back legs. The legs are strapped up behind him like he’s a superhero in flight and his butt languishes in a leather harness that sports two mini-bicycle wheels. Never the less he seems happy enough as I walk by every morning, and well he should, for dangling between his wheels, just shy of the ground, are a set of disproportionately huge, pendulous testicles. I don’t mean to make it weird for his owner (a sweet looking, short woman), but the logistical questions alone are worthy of pondering. How did he keep them off the ground before the wheels? And is this why he broke his legs?

The park in which his owner walks him is by the River Thames. Ducks cross our path ferrying their young into the water. The pug chases and frolics, but never bites or savages them.

Then, one day (yesterday), the dog is there, and the wheels, but the cojones are gone.

It’s not like I make a habit of staring between his legs, but the change is so obvious that if you were presented with a spot-the-difference picture you’d shout ‘FOUND IT,’ within a nanosecond.

Man it caused me consternation, watching him wheeling around in a circle, all  sad and confused. How much womanising (or bitching – he is a dog after all) could he have been doing? (Unless his wheels jack up and down like a low-rider).

Later that day I’m listening to a motivational speaker and thinking about murder when it occurs to me – If someone had the courage (or permission) to lop off this guys balls (or break both his legs and convert him into a wheelbarrow (or both)), I wouldn’t have to think about solutionizing the future. Sure he’d be a little wistful and forever after infused with melancholy, but I wouldn’t have made-up nonsensical words floating around my head. He would have been de-douchified. There would also be fewer kids (Douchina and Douchopher) roaming the earth, spreading their douche ways and gravitating inevitably towards hedge fund management.

I saw the pug again this morning on the way in – Hey little buddy! Nothing – His joy intrinsically linked to his nuts. His owner seemed chipper enough (which is pretty insensitive) prompting images of pet revenge…so now we’re pumping her full of testosterone (that sounds way ruder than was intended) and she wakes up on a gurney with a beard and a receding hairline and wheels for hands, and she’s (or he’s) like ‘WHHHHHHYYYYY?’ and I’m like, ‘Holy shit this got away from me,’ and the dog’s just staring at me like he wasn’t the catalyst for everything, and the man-woman starts with the bargaining: ‘If you let me go I’m never tell,’ and I know she can never keep that promise so I’m forced to abscond into the forest and we all end up in a cave for years and years until we turn feral and I lose my grip on the English language and start talking like a motivational speaker…

Wow, I’m surprisingly angry about the whole thing…

Maybe someone should sneak up behi…

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Epic Fail 2 – Fail Harder

…We left our hero coming to the aid of a damsel in distress. The evil double-glazing empire had dispatched an army of horny, if slightly retarded, window fitters to steal her virtue, but had been cunningly repelled by the use of reverse psychology (essentially pretending to be gay). A great victory had been won, but not without cost. One of the windows had fallen at the hands on some conniving chipboard and now lay vulnerable to attack. The testosterone-filled rascals had vowed to return and finish what they’d started. Our saga continues….
The phone was ringing. The sun glistened across my muscular arm as I answered masterfully. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello Mr. Cororan?’
A lesser man would have used many words at this point, but brevity was the key. ‘Speaking.’
Reeling from my duo-syllabic response (etc) my adversary replied: ‘This is Alex from [INSERT COMPANY NAME HERE]. We’re standing outside your house with a window.’
‘OK…Is this the beginning of a joke?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘There’s no need to be.’
‘Where are you?’
‘I’m at work.’
‘But we’re here with a window.’
‘…Nobody told me you were coming.’
‘Is there any way you could get back?’
‘Not any time soon I’m afraid. I can do Wednesday.’
‘We’re fully booked for the rest of the week. Could anyone else let us in?’
On reflection it was probably the wrong thing to say, but I couldn’t help myself. ‘There’s a flimsy piece of plywood boarding up the bathroom. You could climb up on the roof and punch your way in?’
There was a moment’s silence where the man seemed to be weighing up whether or not to use colourful language. Finally he erred on the side of caution. ‘…OK sir. I’ll get back to you.’
‘OK, speak soon.’
I rang off, putting the whole thing down to simple miscommunication, but ohhhh noooo, larger calamities were afoot. An hour or so later the phone was ringing once more.
‘Alex here…again…when will you be…home from…work?’
‘Why?’
‘…We appear to be locked in your house.’
‘How on earth did you get in?’
‘We did what you suggested and climbed onto the roof.’
‘You’re joking?’
‘Weren’t you being serious…oh…I can see now that you weren’t!’
‘Explain to me what has happened.’
‘Well, we fitted the window, but then realised that all the doors and frames on the ground floor need a key.’
‘So what you’re saying is that you are calling to inform me that you have broken into my house?’
‘…erm…well…no, you suggested it.’
‘AS A JOKE! OK, can you wait there while I phone the police, or are you planning to break back out again?’
‘…’
‘Is Jason there?’ (see previous post)
‘Yes.’
‘Can you put him on the phone?’
There was a brief muffled conversation. ‘He doesn’t want to come to the phone.’
‘I bet he doesn’t!’
‘Do you mind if we climb out of a bedroom window and leave it open till you get home?’
I began to consider the possibility that I was dealing with one of mankind’s more primitive ancestors. An idea for testing this hypothesis occurred to me.
‘Don’t do that. You might set off the Halon system.’
‘The what?’
‘In the event of a fire halon gas drops from the ceiling. This sucks all the oxygen out of the room and extinguishes the flames.’
‘I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.’
‘Deadly serious. There’s one in the kitchen and one on the stairs…they look like smoke alarms…Look, just stay relatively still and get your boss to phone me.’
I rang off. Moments later their boss was on the line. ‘I take it you’re joking about the halon system.’
‘Of course.’
‘What a couple of clowns. Is there any way they can get out?’
‘Yes, there’s a spare key in [INSERT MEANS OF BURGLARISING ME HERE]’
‘Thanks.’
‘I hope this won’t affect their employment.’
‘I was thinking of having them both killed. Does that qualify?’
‘How would I notice any difference?’
‘Quite. Sorry about this Mr. Cororan. Rest assured they’ll both be flogged.’
‘I would expect nothing less. Oh and one more thing…last time your guys came over Jason left me a rather saucy note. Could you let him know that, whilst flattered, I’m not interested?’

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