Dog Star
Directions – you want
to know how to get here?
Past caring on your right then
keep on until abrupt halt —
you cannot miss it from there
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Category: flash fiction
June 19, 2016
May 21, 2016
Renaissance
‘Yi y am
A Pas s
eN Gerr r
R…
‘Just walks around sweating, does nothing but sweat…and fart. Yeah, sweating and farting, and grunting too. Sweats, farts, and grunts. The man is a disgrace!’ raged Nobby, hopping shrewdly on his good foot.
‘What did he ban you for then?’
‘I called him a fat, lazy, turd.’
‘I see.’
And Henry did see. He had discerned a pattern emerging since Nobby offered to stick a hot poker up his arse in July after a lurgy. Quarterly cycles, circadian rhythms, in-growing toenails, attention seeking behaviour, and six pints of Old Tharg each lunchtime had taken their grotesque toll.
‘ I’m going down the Zephyr from here on in.
Henry was confused.
‘You mean the Zodiac?’
‘Yeah. See you Sunday.’
‘Okay, Boss.’
–
With Flo away and Headcase post-traumatically shocked from a wolfhound goring Henry was all for the quiet life. Summer had been pointless, autumn dormant, and now with winter’s onset…
View original post 61 more words
May 20, 2016
bare naked lady
‘Hello…Flo! Are you in?’
Henry recoiled nearly dropping the enriched uranium in the chicken pellets. Of course he recognized the voice immediately, Gina: Gina Orbit, quite capable of talking her way around a sizeable planet, but somehow got stuck after the piano incident with her late chimpanzee, Alf. While sashaying through town a piano had missed her shoulder by six inches and landed plumb on her head, a detached g-string had severed Alf’s head. The piano was in pieces and Gina had got off lightly with primrose catarrh and mild headaches when she heard Grieg.
‘Flo! It’s me…Geeenah!’
Henry aborted his pastime, wiped the enriched uranium and put it back in the elephant’s foot.
‘Hello, Gina…she’s climbing the Old Man of Hoy and picking up some anchovies, probably be back at teatime Wednesday.’
‘Oh, it’s you Henry’ she said with remarkable powers of perception in one so thick. Perhaps…
View original post 38 more words
May 20, 2016
The Daily Grind
I rose and chose a coffee
from the selection of available
water based liquids.
With this I had a cigarette,
which I made myself:
harvesting, drying, processing leaf,
pulping paper in a big blue pail,
extracting gas from the bio mass
and flattening it to the required
denir aboard my
miniature steam roller.
An exhaustive process
often interrupted by the need
to release toxic waste
from the tee-pee
~
On arrival upstairs in my lift
the day was revealed as misty
and the streets sweat wet.
I dropped my lighter on the floor and left it,
vowing to retrieve it later
with my extended manual claw
that hangs from the hospital bed.
A cursory take on the news
clarified the extent of yesterday’s huge explosion in China.
Jim Al Kalili showed me around Sellafield
nuclear reprocessing plant and availed me of a
brief history of nuclear energy.
He looks very…
View original post 10 more words
May 19, 2016
Splosh!
Some
whERe
…a
dog
slEEps
So, mind is unravelled, wild vermacello reasoning, synapses fizz, associations of associations. Angsty: funny to the left of, not quite centre, achy uncomfyvibe. Jolt of jilted jollyfellow. Banjo, ukelele, zither, mandolin slicers: Whoa- hihosilva. Away. Halt.
Restless & feckless; turnoverturn; hide yerears and snuggling sure, ssh, sure…
Recklessly & festlessly fetchingly and carryingly penly, paper, cup, and ashtray from chair to bed and back again, never sorted satisfactorily speaking. Saturdynite; Worzbirtheven; head sort ails; factor fix ion; lean back, more meat Ona! Quark and Lard, larkquard. Gilly-Mot: Milly-Got: Golly-Mit: Molly-Git Milly gotta gwilmon. Toot Aussea, toot? Molly git migly log gimly glimmily.
Can’t see the cross in the mindsigh!
Flora & fauna!
Spring, springful Spring!
Colours, poor favour; sunbusting, teeming, running, jumping, coursing spring. Lively up yourselves. Don’t be nod rag. Salalsocalls for soundsand noises: bell, ringtone, beep-beep, pause, beep- beep…gedditto. Puce and greymauve plinthlight cabled. Left lug picks up microwavesounds. Raviolin. Ra-rah-rah-ra…penumbral whatsitsname: hyperbolaparabolatombolaspinbola…the thing lampshades do. Raviolout. Tinkle-tap-softchomp. Bolasalad with; goods tart…
View original post 65 more words
May 9, 2016
The Patron Saint of Savages
Derailed Sunday lunch on
Whacko Acapulco juice
Cinnamon sticks
Glum multitudes
Nosey aunties
Hoe are tings on googanbarra?
Hello! Nice to meet me
You too…over and over again
In short, I’m starving
Wrecked & Lazy…
Then
(as god is my judge)
Derelict Cucumberpatch
Appeared in a silver
Killer suit
How could one not swoon?
Tilly asked with oblique reference:
‘Was Ralph Richardson
As thin as that once?’Drunk
February 5, 2016
Pound Shop
Jimson plant querent
conceals Messerschmitt mindset
contorted looking glass…
of late promenading a huge
chunk of cool daytime
Quasimodo sitting room
seeks quiet fulfillment.
A washing machine foxtrots
churns clogs, dog fetches doormats.
The time is three twenty three.
World turned back to front.
top shelves are empty places –
Must go plunder
Pound Shop tundra
December 31, 2015
Sea
Sea I said
…
idly
pointing
over the point
that bit of
Sea
Yea sea so
Sea!
Yeah, yeah…
Please do not get het up,
Sounding like a Gatling Gun.
Quite naturally
I conjectures that i
Touched a raw nerve
December 18, 2015
From Rags to Riches
Dragged up on the mean
streets of Much Wenloch, Salop:
orphaned at an early age
& entombed on death row by four
after eating his grandma!
Yes, indeed, Neil Armstrong was
an unlikely candidate
to become the first man
on the moon.
a modest man with a lot to be modest about,
petty criminal with cannibalistic tendencies.
Till fortune propelled him
into a life of
galactic celebrity,
when,
holed up in a shotgun shack after
an abortive raid
on Dade County Police Dept
to release Jim Morrison,
he was abducted by NASA
& sent,
kicking and screaming,
into outer space.
His last words ‘Goldfish Mandelbrot’ are typical of the man:
succinct yet charming,
dark yet illuminating.
We shall never see his like again.
December 18, 2015
Petrichor
Nose down.
The Saint woke
nose down in a wood:
in a
a vast, dank wood.
Beeches & brambles.
He got up,
raised a knowing eyebrow,
and licked mulch from his
granite chiselled chin.
Petrichor,
he concluded wryly
Grimbeau 