Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Eggs Over Easy



Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, (with his girlfriend Eglantine )
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. (more like he was pushed when confessing he had cheated on Eglantine with her sister Egberta and wanted to break up "officially" )
All the king's horses and all the king's men ( the ambulance and police arrived after a call from a hysterical Eglantine about her boyfriends "fall" )
Couldn't put Humpty together again. (Humpty Dumpty was dead and with no other witnesses or evidence of foul play the "accident" was ruled as tragic and a "no eggs on wall" sign was posted.)

Posted on behalf of L.C.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

A Very Validating Wednesday

 



 It was a great day for Reginald T Mawthinsawl. Breakfast at the new diner was superb, perhaps even life affirming. What was even in those eggs? Lobster? Perhaps a smattering of paprika? Fantastic. A perfect start to a perfect day. The years he spent replicating dinosaur DNA and combining it with that of the majestic Rhode Island Red were finally worth it. Of course there were naysayers; an onslaught of simpletons who couldn't see the reality of his genius. "It can't be done!" They said. "You're mad!" They said. "You're an accountant, how did you even get access to frozen utahraptor sperm?" Fools, the lot of them. 

The look on Cheryl and Jerry's normally smug faces brought new feelings of warmth into Reginald's heart. Their decaying minds must have been shocked to realize how wrong they had been all those years. Cheryl was especially agog. He recalled, with fondness now, how she had laughed when he had asked her to be his date at his cousins wedding. 

 "AM I A JOKE NOW, CHERYL?" Reginald bellowed as Cheryl screamed, running from a six foot tall rooster who had been trained to chase anything with blonde hair since it was first hatched in a vat of beautifully preserved but ancient stem cells.

It was no small task to euthanize a 150 lb bird. He wondered if he was too closely bonded to the creature to even make the attempt. But after the lengthy seminar he attended on taxidermy, he knew what he had to do. It took Reginald 3 hours. "A new record" whispered his taxidermy instructor as he watched Reginald slip into his majestic new outfit made of genuine giant chicken. He asked Reginald where he plans to bring his new costume. 

 Reginald laughed heartily, locked the old taxidermist in the closet, and headed outside towards the photography studio. As his feathers glistened in the sun and the man's muffled screams faded into the distance, he remarked to himself that it was like wearing a second skin. He chuckled, "Of course! That's exactly what it is, old boy!" 

That night, for the first time in his life, he slept soundly. Nothing was going to bother Reginald Mawthinsawl ever again. 

Monday, November 3, 2014

The Harvest

3 November 2009 Twelve days remaining. So much left to do. The journey of a 1000-miles begins with a single step and at least the first step has been taken, the harvest started. The amygdala was much smaller than anticipated, less than a quarter of an ounce. Must redo the calculations and certainly identify additional sources. Discretion is of the utmost importance. They would not understand. If discovered, they would say I was crazy, a monster. They said Mendel was crazy, refused him the time of day. Today they have changed their tune haven’t they? Today he would get a Nobel Prize. My ambitions are not nearly so lofty. I do however fully expect first place on my debut at the Northwest Food Festival.

Pâté (de Amygdala)
3/4 cup Cognac
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 cup minced onion
2 1/2 pounds ground amygdala
12 ounces bacon (8 to 10 slices), finely chopped, plus 14 bacon slices (for lining pan)
3 garlic cloves, pressed
2 1/2 teaspoons salt
2 1/2 teaspoons dried thyme
1 1/2 teaspoons allspice
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/3 cup whipping cream
Coarse sea salt
Serve at room temperature with a touch of Dijon and a sprinkling of salt on a baguette.

An Unexpected Trip...

Hector's trip to India was not turning out as he had anticipated. Coming to India had been a life long dream of his. Even as a boy, he'd don his khaki vest and grab the machete he'd made from cardboard and packing tape and would bush whack his way through old man Sorensen's elaborate garden. Old man Sorensen was the meanest old man alive, Hector was sure of this. All he cared about was that garden. Hector was able to spy on the old man a few times, watching him walk the garden, gently talking to the plants as if they were alive. When he came across the trails Hector had made with his "machete", you'd think the old man was going to explode from the contorted purple his face would turn. Hector would then imagine himself spying on a warrior scouting party- stealthily retreated deeper into the wood. If the Sorensen cat happened to be in the garden, it became an elusive Bengal tiger... if he happened to actually get close to the cat, that elusive quality quickly became paw at his trouser pockets friendly hoping for that bit of liver pate he'd brought along to help him survive getting hopelessly lost in the jungle amongst the wisteria in the back left corner of the property. Old man Sorensen would eventually discover his trespassing once again, and as he was chased out of the garden by the surprisingly spry for his age old man, Hector would imagine that the warrior scouting party had finally discovered him and were chasing him across crocodile filled rivers and through ancient temple grounds.

 Hector went on to become a luggage salesman, placing every tip he received into his own travel fund. After 10 years of savings, he had exactly 34 dollars in the tin. So it was with some surprise when he received a visit from old man Sorensen's estate lawyer telling him that the old man had left him some funds and a travel itinerary. Hector wasted no time and the following afternoon he was on a train with India on the horizon. The itinerary that Sorensen had provided was detailed and thorough. He'd walked the spice markets- where it felt as if he were really using his senses for the very first time in his life. He'd toured ancient temples- more exotic in real life than he could have ever imagined while playing in an English country garden. He was touched that old man Sorensen had been so thoughtful and generous to him, of all people. As he sat on a bus heading deep into India's green heart, Hector smiled to himself thinking how much he'd misunderstood the old man. He supposed that the old man must have enjoyed having a little life injected into what seemed like a very dull existence.

Friday, October 31, 2014

Our Huddled Masses

 


Our Huddled Masses

a prologue by Pat Condie Bak

By the time the general population became aware of the new super bacteria, the reactionary responses of prominent medical doctors and renowned scientists from all over the world had already escalated from curiosity to concern, to worry, to fear, and finally, to panic. Inevitable leaks of the frightening new discovery first trickled out, then flowed in torrents from the countless fissures in top secret documents. As soon as the inevitable consequences of the new Bacillus fasilmeria became clear, Earth’s inhabitants collectively wailed and plunged headlong into a universal hell.

Because of the unprecedented robust nature of this proficient killer, familiar apocalyptic scenes of B grade movies were replicated throughout the real world in frenzied, fast-forward time. First came the inevitable looting: electronics, then food and finally, any type of protective paraphernalia imaginable: from useless face masks, to surplus World War II parts and pieces and on to government issued state-of-the-art Ebola gear stockpiled in inefficiently secured facilities. What quickly followed those days of mayhem and ruthless anarchy was a quiet settling-of-the-dust atmosphere in which most hapless citizens of every country merely walked, trance-like, over decaying bodies in search of a crust of bread.

In just five weeks after Dr. Kumar Banerjee’s first wide-eyed, jaw-dropping scrutiny of the extraordinary bacteria, over seventy million people had succumbed to the terror, and the daily death count grew exponentially. A small number of intellectuals who had stayed one step ahead of the ever-growing carnage labored on several continents in a desperate attempt to understand this destroying angel. Their determination paid off as these exhausted men and women uncovered the one vulnerability of the bacteria: persistent, torturous cold.

 And thus it is that our determination to insure the survival of the human race has led us to seek sanctuary at the frozen poles or atop towering, ice-crusted mountains. In diverse locations throughout the world, small clusters of huddled masses have been brought together by fear and grief.  It is in this bitter frozen stillness that we few survivors are finding salvation. The forced abandonment of all mankind’s superfluous trappings has compelled us to rediscover our humanity


Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Halloween Challenge!

Choose one of these vintage Halloween pictures as your writing prompt! Anything goes- story, poem, limmerick... Just have fun with it.