posted
Yep, back, slightly tanned, with not a clue as to what I was planning to write next. I may have something written at work, but sod all available here and now. I might be able to post something on Monday, but I've got a lot of catching up at work / getting ready for offshore visit etc to be done. Hally-freakin'-lujah.
posted
Reprieve - now not going offshore for another fortnight, so I might get a couple of episodes in.
From: Scatland | Registered: Sep 2003
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They were locked and loaded. And tense as a foursome of coiled ……. very tense things. With guns.
The doors slid open slowly to reveal……..
Absolutely bugger all of note.
Four held breaths were expelled. There was an air of anticlimax.
They were further up the slope from El Asticpants. The landscape below showed the town that had only briefly been glimpsed through the torrential rain earlier. The rain had stopped now. It was vast. It was expensive. It was beautiful. All except Stacy stared through the open lift doors at the sight below them, mesmerised. She had seen it often enough. Although never from this particular viewpoint.
She had lived in El Asticpants for the last 20 years – a haven for old television stars and starlets. It had been built on TV money, and had a certain amount of Hollywood class and glitz about it, but was no-where near as gaudy. There was a church in the middle of the town that the townspeople were very proud of. It had been built in a 20th century Spanish style, but was no-where near as Gaudi.
And she, and all of her old friends and colleagues had been frog-marched out of their homes by ninjas and tied to a wall and left to die. And she had no idea why. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they hadn’t put up with a certain amount of shit over the last few months anyway. What with that big fucking red dragon appearing from nowhere, breaking down peoples walls and eating them indiscriminately. That really had been taking liberties!
“Wow!” said Harbi, impressed. “That looks like a classy place!”
The sun was still in the process of rising, and the dawns rosy light cast long shadows, creating areas of negative light and space, and other arty nonsense. Shards of light reflected from coloured glass, kaleidoscoping colour everywhere, juxtaposing positive energy with ……….
Bollocks - it was pretty, okay.
Numf and Sonnie peeked out around the edge of the lift doors, making sure that there were no ninjas hiding. There were none. Black all-in-one suits aren’t normally favoured for daytime sneakiness.
“Right, follow me,” said Stacy. “ I know where we can go to get all cleaned up.”
posted
I'm glad someone got it. Thought it was a bit obscure though....
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As they headed down the side of the mountain towards the town several miles off, Harbi quizzed Stacy on what she knew about what had been going on.
Several prominent locals had gone missing over the previous months – Oscar Goldman, John Bosley, Chachi and Steed the first amongst them. Walls had been broken down, houses and contents generally smashed up. And these had been very expensive houses. There had even been several cases of people coming home from their daily routines to find that their houses had been wrecked in their absense. People woke up to find that their cars had been wrecked outside their houses, often with only charred remains left behind.
There had been unconfirmed reports of a huge red dragon flying off with Chachi in its claws. But then there were also unconfirmed rumours about Joanie Cunningham slicing him up in a lovers tif, and filling her freezer with his juicier bits. And she did bring a lot of pies to the Bring-And-Buy Sale for the Blue Peter Appeal just that week …………
However, there had been no sign of the ninja until just the previous week.
As they were walking down the barren landscape towards the beckoning promise of civilisation, or at the very least warm water, fluffy towels and soft toilet paper, Numf had a throw-away comment to make. “Hey, Sonnie, remember the time that I went to the Canaries on holiday?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t that long ago, was it?”
“Nah. But I took a trip 8000 feet up the biggest mountain in Spain, Mount Teide, and the landscape was just like this.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. The same black streaks down the sideof it from a gaping hole, the same lack of vegetation and almost moonscape appearance, and the same dark grey sponge-like looking hard, sharp bastard rocks.”
“Yeah, that’s very interesting, Numf. Get to the point, will you?”
“Well, you see, the dark grey spongey looking rocks were actually…..”
In this case, one of the dark grey looking rocks was actually a ninja. He was ideally suited for hiding in dark grey rock, since his black suit had been through the tumble drier more often than recommended in the ninja secrets handbook. He had been left crouching in just this spot on the off chance that any escape came this way.
He exploded from his crouch, launching himself at the foursome, silent scream ripping through the air, in a pose straight out of a Bruce Lee movie. Unluckily for him, Harbi had the reflexes of a cat. And had been a secret fan of Patrick Swayze. Ssshhhh! Don’t tell anyone.
No one saw Harbis hand move, but before his feet had touched the ground he was grasping at his throat.
He lost his balance. His feet whipped out from under him and he fell on his back, gasping impotently for air. Blood pissed through his fingers.
“Well, there’s no point in trying to interrogate him, is there?” said Sonnie.
“Why not?” asked Numf.
“Cos, umm, I’ve got this,” said Harbi, holding out a clump of red flesh, blood dripping between her fingers.
Stacy looked impressed. “I’m impressed!” she said.
“You’re in Presto!” said Numf in a totally false, advertising smiley way. The smile was quickly wiped away by the swipe from Sonnie across the back of his head. Sonnie gave Numf a patented Paddington Hard Stare to stop his complaint in its tracks.
From: Scatland | Registered: Sep 2003
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posted
A crunching noise was heard; the ninja kicked out once, and then lay still – dead.
Harbi bent close and sniffed. “Bitter almonds,” she said, giving her expert opinion. “He’s committed suicide with a cyanide capsule instead of letting us interrogate him.”
“Nah, I doubt it,” said Numf a tad sulkily, still smarting from the clip around the back of the head.
“Listen,” said Harbi, “I used to watch all the old detective programmes, and spy programmes, and the smell of bitter almonds was always a sign of cyanide. Isn’t that so Officer Sheridan?”
“Absolutely, ma’am,” Stacy replied.
“Like who?” asked Numf.
“Kojak…”
“Dead,” said Stacy.
“Ironside…”
“Dead,” said Stacy.
“Taggart….”
“Dinnae naebuddy moove – therez been a muuuurrrderrrr,” said Sonnie in his best Weegie voice.
“Dead,” said Stacy.
“Perry Mason….”
“Still dead,” said Stacy.
“Okay, I’m going to stop listing all my heroes, ‘cos they’re all stuck on a wall back there,” said Harbi, pointing over her shoulder, tears starting to form in the corner of her eyes.
“Hell no – they all died years ago!” said Stacy. “I was at each and every funeral.”
“And anyway, what they would all have missed is that,” the Numfster said, pointing at a small foil bag sticking out of the ninjas pocket.
Sonnie picked it up and looked at it. He gave a little snigger to himself and read aloud, “Planters New Bitter Almonds!” He sniggered some more.
Numf crossed his arms and looked smug. Stacy sniggered as well, and finally even Harbi burst out laughing.
From: Scatland | Registered: Sep 2003
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“So, lets see this impressive Red Dragon tattoo that we were told about,” Harbi suggested.
“Do you realise,” said Sonnie, “ that we were told about these tattoos away back in May, and it’s now November? A whole six months ago.”
“Well, that’s real time, not story time. It’s only about two or three days , or possibly four, in Storyland, although I’ve kinda lost track. So, what’s your point?” asked Harbi.
“Nothing much – just to point out how blinkin’ long it takes to tell a story, and there’s still no end in sight. I don’t even know if I get to make it through to the end….. And also to point out to whoever’s writing this that there’d better be some kind of point to the whole tattoo business. It’d better not just be a red herring,” said Sonnie. He quickly turned to Numf and put a hand over his opening mouth. “And no jokes about ‘no, it’s a red dragon, not a red herring!’, okay?”
“You spoil all my fun….. Anyway, I thought that the previous ‘different film’ line was enough to justify the inclusion,” argued Numf, not very convincingly. “So, lets give it a look, then.”
“Are you sure we can’t play out the suspense just a bit longer?” asked Harbi, who was down on her haunches, rolling up the black sleeve of the dead ninja.
“Well, I’m sure we could manage just a bit longer…..” said Numf.
posted
Yeah you, just how long does it take you to tell a story?
Hope you get the chance to post some more before you head offshore Ken, and if not have fun while you're out there (think of all that custard!).
Obligatory cry of 'more, more, more!'
-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
From: here, more often than not | Registered: Sep 2003
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posted
“Well, that’s a crackin’ tattoo, Grommet,” said Sonnie to no-one in particular.
“What, that ‘1690 – NAE SURRENDIR!” that looks like he wrote it himself with a biro at primary school?” asked Harbi. “And why is it upside down?”
“Well, that’ll be so that he can read it himself,” said the Numfster. “It certainly doesn’t like the type of tattoo that you’d expect from an elite ninja death machine, does it? Let’s try his other arm. ”
Sonnie rolled up his other sleeve, exposing a rather impressive tattoo of a red dragon. “Hey, not bad!” said Numf, looking rather impressed.
“If you go for Bazooka Joe chic then I suppose it’s okay,” said Stacy.
“How do you mean?” asked Numf, turning to look at her quizzically.
“Well, you see, my little brother used to have one of them, when he was about 8 years old,” Stacy told them.
“Wow, your brother an elite SGG ninja at 8 years old – now THAT’s impre……” Numf wasn’t allowed to finish his sentence. He picked his face out of the dust and rubbed the back of his head, though hurt more by the somehow unexpeccted nature of the slap from his brother. “Whaaaaaaaaaat????” he asked in the manner of a petulant teenager who hasn’t yet discovered the untold joys of worshipping at the alter of the great god Onan to calm his raging hormones.
Not succeeding particularly well in her attempts to not giggle, Stacy explained what she had meant.
From: Scatland | Registered: Sep 2003
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Are you just asking that to see if anyone is reading this or have I missed a post somewhere?
Me no understandee
-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
From: here, more often than not | Registered: Sep 2003
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posted
“No thanks Numf, I don’t smoke a pipe, I don’t need another rug, and I don’t like cormarant-esque sea birds because they smell bad,” replied Stacy, without a hint of irony. She did wonder, though.
If Numfy had had a crest it would have fallen. As it happened, something else did fall, or at least wilt a bit. He had been gearing himself up to ask the question, and hadn’t really been paying that much attention to what else had been going on, although his mouth had been on auto-pilot. It looked like he’d made a fool of himself again ……….
He turned away, red of face and started walking down the mountain, away from the others, head down, shoulders slumped, hands in pockets and kicking small stones as he went.
Harbi looked at Stacy quizzically. Stacy looked at Harbi quizzically. “Have I done something wrong?” she asked in a psychic woman-to-woman mystical way that us blokes’d never understand.
Harbi answered in the affirmative.
“What?” asked Stacy by the merest opening of her eyes and shift of her eyebrows, the subtleties of which would escape a mere male, but the pain of which was easily read by Harbi.
Sonnie was looking back and forth between them, not having the faintest idea what was transpiring. He always seemed to turn just as the person he was looking at had passed their signal. Numfy was his brother, so he was allowed to be a bitch to him, but who the hell did this blonde bimbo think she was treating his brother like a plaything? Tongue sandwich and a quick grope in the lift one second, and cutting down his, admittedly not very subtle and possibly badly timed, advances the next. Sonnie gave up trying to understand, shook his head and went to give some solace to his kin.
“Oi, Humfy, wait up!” he shouted as he started down the hill, leaving the two girls behind.
From: Scatland | Registered: Sep 2003
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posted
“So, what were you saying about your trip up the mountain on your holidays,” said Sonnie in an attempt to distract Numf from his humf.
“What I was saying was that they had the same rough-as-a-badgers-arse stones, the kind that would cut you to ribbons if you just happened to trip up,” replied Numf.
“And?” asked Sonnie.
“Well, you see, the point is that it wasn’t a mountain.”
“Not…. A….. Mountain. Nope, sorry. I don’t get you,” said Sonnie.
“It’s a great big bloody volcano,” said Numf. “The one in Tenerife isn’t particularly active, although you can occasionally see little plumes of smoke in the distance that look like they could be clouds. In fact, come to think of it, they could have been clouds……”
“But,” said Sonnie, “if it were slightly more active then you would possibly get warm water, sulphurry taste, a slight glow and probably some vibration through the ground……”
“You know something, Sonnie? It might be a good idea if we knew what the hell was going on here,” stated Numf. He didn’t realise it, but that statement went straight into the list of “Numfs Top Ten Most Bleedin’ Obvious Statements” at about three.
From: Scatland | Registered: Sep 2003
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posted
“So,” asked Stacy, further back up the hill, “what did I say wrong? Is Numf some kind of bird-fancier, that he objects to me not liking the smell of seabirds?”
“Believe me,” said Harbi, “your love, or otherwise, of seabirds is entirely inconsequential to Numfs happiness at this moment in time. All he’s currently interested in is whether of not you’re going to gie him his hole.”
“I’m sorry, and I mean this with the greatest respect, but I haven’t got the foggiest idea what you strange people are talking about. Can you please at least attempt to speak English? Most of the words make some kind of sense on their own, but when you put them all together ……… well sometimes they just spin around my brain incomprehensibly. Especially when you talk to each other,” said Stacy, looking very confused.
Harbi made an obscene gesture with the thumb and forefinger of her left hand, together with a sliding motion of the forefinger of her right hand. “You know,” she reiterated, talking slowly, raising her eyebrows.
Stacy blushed, and nodded her head. “Oh, that explains things,” she said, very quietly. “And I suppose that shag has nothing to do with sea birds ….. yeah, I get it now.”
“Look Stacy, I like you, so I’ll explain things. If he happens to say “Ony chunsamaholethenight?” you’ll know that he’s actually being deeply romantic,” Harbi tried to explain, patiently.
“Really?” Stacy asked, almost as confused as she was before.
“Well, no, but he’s an ignorant pathetic male pillock, and the best way to make him behave is to laugh at him. Or else a clip around the ear,” Harbi explained. “The ‘get what you want by be-littling the opposition’ method. Although you both want the same end result – apart from the roll over, fart, and fall asleep at the end - he wants to make as little effort as possible, but you feel that you’re worth a great deal more. And so you should. You want to feel appreciated. The problem is that he doesn’t have a clue how to treat women properly, so he treats them as if they were mates down the pub. He thinks that ‘nice rack, love’ is showing the required amount of appreciation.”
“But, at the end of the day don’t we want to be friends?” asked Stacy.
“Of course, my dear. That’s fine if you’re looking for a meaningful one night stand. But if you let him treat you like a mate down the pub when he’s trying to coax you into bed, then you’re going to have a hard time getting him to act romantically later on. ‘Two pints of lager. Oh, and hows about a knee-trembler at half-time in the footie’ might be fine every now and again. But if you then turn around and say you want to be treated like a real woman, well he just won’t know what you mean, will he?”
“Hell no, he’ll think that I want to iron his shirts and do the hoovering,” laughed Stacy.
“Exactly. You get my point. Teach him from the start. And, although it wasn’t deliberate, that was a good start,” said Harbi, reminding Stacy about what had happened a few minutes earlier.
“Aww, but he’s such a gentle soul. I obviously hurt his feelings when I turned down his advances….”
“Don’t be bloody silly. He was just hoping that those big soft green eyes, trembling lip and cute arse would have you running after him, begging forgiveness,” Harbi turned to watch the two brothers further down the track. “And what a fine arse it is.”
“oh yes” said Stacy thoughtfully.
“And don’t even think about a threesome with Sonnie,” said Harbi, noticing a certain look flickering across Stacys eyes.
“Oh. Why not? Have you got designs on him yourself?” asked Stacy warily, just in case this spoiled the fledgling friendship that was obviously growing between the two girls.
“No, but I think some of the blokes back at Legion HQ do.”
From: Scatland | Registered: Sep 2003
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