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We had to write a piece of flash fiction for school in a genre that we've never really written in before, so I chose to do a fun little detective type story.
"...and with all that said, I would love to take you on as a client!" The Detective leaned forward over the heavy desk and grinned, his chair creaking slightly from the movement.
The Scarfed Woman recoiled slightly and tightened her grip on her clutch. "Um," she began, her voice raised an octave higher than normal. She cocked her eyebrow and coughed slightly. "No thanks." Her voice had returned to its usual pitch, perhaps with a speck of sarcasm.
The Detective looked taken aback. How could she turn him down? He was one of the city’s greatest detectives! Isn’t that what people had told him? Ah, the correct wording escaped him. But he did have to find out why she turned him down, so he asked.
“I’m just not sure you’re going to be of much help,” she said, adjusting her eponymous scarf.
“What a strange thing to say!” he said, standing up. “I could definitely help you, um—.” He touched his hand to his face and looked up at the slowly spinning ceiling fan, the red light from the camera situated just above it glowing in the dark.
“Find…” The Scarfed Woman said slowly.
“Oh, yes! Find your… missing?”
“No, not missing!”
“Oh, well that’s good.”
The Scarfed Woman sighed. “No, not good. Nobody’s missing.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I wanted you to find out—.”
“Oh, yes! Find out if… your…”
“Hu—.”
“Housekeeper! Find out if your housekeeper—.”
“No, not housekeeper! I asked you to find out if my husband is cheating on me! If I could afford a housekeeper I wouldn’t care if my husband was cheating on me. At the moment there’s potential for me to upgrade if things aren’t going well.”
“Okay, well I can definitely help you with things like that. I’m a detective, after all. The Detective.”
“No, you can’t help. Not after you said all that.”
“All what?”
“All that. The stuff before you said you’d love to take me on as a client. You said that you were a hopeless detective due to your what you called memory issues, and that there was probably no chance you could be of any real service to me. It wasn’t the greatest sales pitch.”
“I don’t remember that,” The Detective said, slumping his shoulders.
“Well there you go. You also forgot to light that cigar you’ve been smoking this entire time. Look, you seem like a great guy. The setup you have here is great. I love your… antique?” The Scarfed Woman gestured towards the desk between them.
“Faux,” The Detective sighed.
“Faux-antique desk,” The Scarfed Woman corrected herself. “I love your faux-antique desk. The blinds on the windows are perfectly shabby, the fan is spinning just slowly enough and the black and white in here is really setting the mood.” She looked around and nodded. “I just don’t think actual detective work is your true calling. Maybe you should change your name. But I really do have to get going. Thanks for your time.” She quickly stood up, put on a pair of sunglasses and hurried out of the door, slamming it closed behind her.
The Detective took in the silence of his office. He returned to his chair with a creak, and reached for the unlit cigar resting in the ashtray on the desk. He put it in his mouth, leaned back in his chair and slowly but surely forgot about The Scarfed Woman.
"...and with all that said, I would love to take you on as a client!" The Detective leaned forward over the heavy desk and grinned, his chair creaking slightly from the movement.
The Scarfed Woman recoiled slightly and tightened her grip on her clutch. "Um," she began, her voice raised an octave higher than normal. She cocked her eyebrow and coughed slightly. "No thanks." Her voice had returned to its usual pitch, perhaps with a speck of sarcasm.
The Detective looked taken aback. How could she turn him down? He was one of the city’s greatest detectives! Isn’t that what people had told him? Ah, the correct wording escaped him. But he did have to find out why she turned him down, so he asked.
“I’m just not sure you’re going to be of much help,” she said, adjusting her eponymous scarf.
“What a strange thing to say!” he said, standing up. “I could definitely help you, um—.” He touched his hand to his face and looked up at the slowly spinning ceiling fan, the red light from the camera situated just above it glowing in the dark.
“Find…” The Scarfed Woman said slowly.
“Oh, yes! Find your… missing?”
“No, not missing!”
“Oh, well that’s good.”
The Scarfed Woman sighed. “No, not good. Nobody’s missing.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I wanted you to find out—.”
“Oh, yes! Find out if… your…”
“Hu—.”
“Housekeeper! Find out if your housekeeper—.”
“No, not housekeeper! I asked you to find out if my husband is cheating on me! If I could afford a housekeeper I wouldn’t care if my husband was cheating on me. At the moment there’s potential for me to upgrade if things aren’t going well.”
“Okay, well I can definitely help you with things like that. I’m a detective, after all. The Detective.”
“No, you can’t help. Not after you said all that.”
“All what?”
“All that. The stuff before you said you’d love to take me on as a client. You said that you were a hopeless detective due to your what you called memory issues, and that there was probably no chance you could be of any real service to me. It wasn’t the greatest sales pitch.”
“I don’t remember that,” The Detective said, slumping his shoulders.
“Well there you go. You also forgot to light that cigar you’ve been smoking this entire time. Look, you seem like a great guy. The setup you have here is great. I love your… antique?” The Scarfed Woman gestured towards the desk between them.
“Faux,” The Detective sighed.
“Faux-antique desk,” The Scarfed Woman corrected herself. “I love your faux-antique desk. The blinds on the windows are perfectly shabby, the fan is spinning just slowly enough and the black and white in here is really setting the mood.” She looked around and nodded. “I just don’t think actual detective work is your true calling. Maybe you should change your name. But I really do have to get going. Thanks for your time.” She quickly stood up, put on a pair of sunglasses and hurried out of the door, slamming it closed behind her.
The Detective took in the silence of his office. He returned to his chair with a creak, and reached for the unlit cigar resting in the ashtray on the desk. He put it in his mouth, leaned back in his chair and slowly but surely forgot about The Scarfed Woman.
This is so good! So well written too! The way it opens more as you read was brilliant. You really are talented... Looking forward to reading some more I hopeWe had to write a piece of flash fiction for school in a genre that we've never really written in before, so I chose to do a fun little detective type story.
"...and with all that said, I would love to take you on as a client!" The Detective leaned forward over the heavy desk and grinned, his chair creaking slightly from the movement.
The Scarfed Woman recoiled slightly and tightened her grip on her clutch. "Um," she began, her voice raised an octave higher than normal. She cocked her eyebrow and coughed slightly. "No thanks." Her voice had returned to its usual pitch, perhaps with a speck of sarcasm.
The Detective looked taken aback. How could she turn him down? He was one of the city’s greatest detectives! Isn’t that what people had told him? Ah, the correct wording escaped him. But he did have to find out why she turned him down, so he asked.
“I’m just not sure you’re going to be of much help,” she said, adjusting her eponymous scarf.
“What a strange thing to say!” he said, standing up. “I could definitely help you, um—.” He touched his hand to his face and looked up at the slowly spinning ceiling fan, the red light from the camera situated just above it glowing in the dark.
“Find…” The Scarfed Woman said slowly.
“Oh, yes! Find your… missing?”
“No, not missing!”
“Oh, well that’s good.”
The Scarfed Woman sighed. “No, not good. Nobody’s missing.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I wanted you to find out—.”
“Oh, yes! Find out if… your…”
“Hu—.”
“Housekeeper! Find out if your housekeeper—.”
“No, not housekeeper! I asked you to find out if my husband is cheating on me! If I could afford a housekeeper I wouldn’t care if my husband was cheating on me. At the moment there’s potential for me to upgrade if things aren’t going well.”
“Okay, well I can definitely help you with things like that. I’m a detective, after all. The Detective.”
“No, you can’t help. Not after you said all that.”
“All what?”
“All that. The stuff before you said you’d love to take me on as a client. You said that you were a hopeless detective due to your what you called memory issues, and that there was probably no chance you could be of any real service to me. It wasn’t the greatest sales pitch.”
“I don’t remember that,” The Detective said, slumping his shoulders.
“Well there you go. You also forgot to light that cigar you’ve been smoking this entire time. Look, you seem like a great guy. The setup you have here is great. I love your… antique?” The Scarfed Woman gestured towards the desk between them.
“Faux,” The Detective sighed.
“Faux-antique desk,” The Scarfed Woman corrected herself. “I love your faux-antique desk. The blinds on the windows are perfectly shabby, the fan is spinning just slowly enough and the black and white in here is really setting the mood.” She looked around and nodded. “I just don’t think actual detective work is your true calling. Maybe you should change your name. But I really do have to get going. Thanks for your time.” She quickly stood up, put on a pair of sunglasses and hurried out of the door, slamming it closed behind her.
The Detective took in the silence of his office. He returned to his chair with a creak, and reached for the unlit cigar resting in the ashtray on the desk. He put it in his mouth, leaned back in his chair and slowly but surely forgot about The Scarfed Woman.
We had to write a piece of flash fiction for school in a genre that we've never really written in before, so I chose to do a fun little detective type story.
"...and with all that said, I would love to take you on as a client!" The Detective leaned forward over the heavy desk and grinned, his chair creaking slightly from the movement.
The Scarfed Woman recoiled slightly and tightened her grip on her clutch. "Um," she began, her voice raised an octave higher than normal. She cocked her eyebrow and coughed slightly. "No thanks." Her voice had returned to its usual pitch, perhaps with a speck of sarcasm.
The Detective looked taken aback. How could she turn him down? He was one of the city’s greatest detectives! Isn’t that what people had told him? Ah, the correct wording escaped him. But he did have to find out why she turned him down, so he asked.
“I’m just not sure you’re going to be of much help,” she said, adjusting her eponymous scarf.
“What a strange thing to say!” he said, standing up. “I could definitely help you, um—.” He touched his hand to his face and looked up at the slowly spinning ceiling fan, the red light from the camera situated just above it glowing in the dark.
“Find…” The Scarfed Woman said slowly.
“Oh, yes! Find your… missing?”
“No, not missing!”
“Oh, well that’s good.”
The Scarfed Woman sighed. “No, not good. Nobody’s missing.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I wanted you to find out—.”
“Oh, yes! Find out if… your…”
“Hu—.”
“Housekeeper! Find out if your housekeeper—.”
“No, not housekeeper! I asked you to find out if my husband is cheating on me! If I could afford a housekeeper I wouldn’t care if my husband was cheating on me. At the moment there’s potential for me to upgrade if things aren’t going well.”
“Okay, well I can definitely help you with things like that. I’m a detective, after all. The Detective.”
“No, you can’t help. Not after you said all that.”
“All what?”
“All that. The stuff before you said you’d love to take me on as a client. You said that you were a hopeless detective due to your what you called memory issues, and that there was probably no chance you could be of any real service to me. It wasn’t the greatest sales pitch.”
“I don’t remember that,” The Detective said, slumping his shoulders.
“Well there you go. You also forgot to light that cigar you’ve been smoking this entire time. Look, you seem like a great guy. The setup you have here is great. I love your… antique?” The Scarfed Woman gestured towards the desk between them.
“Faux,” The Detective sighed.
“Faux-antique desk,” The Scarfed Woman corrected herself. “I love your faux-antique desk. The blinds on the windows are perfectly shabby, the fan is spinning just slowly enough and the black and white in here is really setting the mood.” She looked around and nodded. “I just don’t think actual detective work is your true calling. Maybe you should change your name. But I really do have to get going. Thanks for your time.” She quickly stood up, put on a pair of sunglasses and hurried out of the door, slamming it closed behind her.
The Detective took in the silence of his office. He returned to his chair with a creak, and reached for the unlit cigar resting in the ashtray on the desk. He put it in his mouth, leaned back in his chair and slowly but surely forgot about The Scarfed Woman.
Brilliant!!!!!!
You are going to be seriously rich one day!
AntiGretel
...TRUMP 2020..
Was the detective a fan of hungry jacks who sat on his bum all day ?
If yes, we have found a worthy candidate for the off-broadway play
" A Day In The Life of Mr. Ass Burger "
I wonder if he is from Israel.....hmmmm
This is so good! So well written too! The way it opens more as you read was brilliant. You really are talented... Looking forward to reading some more I hope
Thank you so much!
Haha, fingers crossed!
I'm getting a xena warrior princess meets tomb raider
Pencils and inks as before. Just playing with the background ideas...
Cheers
Sean
SeanE
I loathe sport on TV...
She's X-23 from X Men...
Oh. Well you did a great job
Columbo
Never again
(Two fish. One blue fish and one red fish are sitting in a bucket smoking cigars and drinking brandy.)
Blue fish: Edward, the local fish elections are coming up soon.
Edward (red fish): So they are, Terrence, so they are.
Terrence: Hope they have better candidates than last time.
Edward: Well last time there was one candidate as a result of that shark, Richard Wastrel, eating the other fish.
Terrence: Yes, I remember that. Most unfortunate.
Edward: Quite. Although Richard has done a fine job.
Terrence: You couldn't ask for anything better could you?
Edward: No you couldn't. I'll be sad to see him lose the next election.
Terrence: Lose? Did you say lose?
Edward: Yes I did.
Terrence: But Richard is going to win this election. Everyone knows that. I mean he has done a fantastic job so far, and even if he hadn't done he would probably eat all the other fish.
Edward: Yes, but you have to remember that Richard has become a vegetarian. He doesn't eat fish anymore.
Terrence: I thought that was a joke?
Edward: Nope. No joke. He hasn't eaten fish in ages.
Terrence: How do you.....oh, nevermind. I'm sure you have your ways you sneaky devil. So come on, tell me how Richard is going to lose?
Edward: We are going to put up our own candidate, a real winner.
Terrence: Well thank you, Edward. I'm quite humbled by....
Edward: I don't mean you, I mean this.
(Edward reaches out of the bucket and gets a boot. A large brown boot.)
Terrence: What is that?
Edward: It's a boot. A glorious brown boot. I found it the other day.
Terrence: Does it talk?
Edward: No. But that doesn't matter.
Terrence: It doesn't matter if it can't talk? Are you insane? This fish election will be the most important election that will we ever have. You are making a mockery of the political process with that thing.....hey that boot kind of looks like a seahorse don't you think?
Edward: No, I thought it looked like a sea turtle.
Terrence: A sea turtle? It looks nothing like a sea turtle.
Edward: Yes it does. A yorkshire sea turtle.
Terrence: There is no such thing as a yorkshire turtle.
Edward: Says you!
Terrence: Yes, whatever. Anyway, how are we going to get this boot to defeat Richard.
Edward: We can teach it to talk?
Terrence: Yes we could.....wait, I thought you had a plan already put in place?
Edward: No, I'm just making it up as I go along.
Terrence: Typical! Say you have a big idea yet know nothing of the details. Can't you do anything right?
Edward: But I had a great idea!
Terrence: It was a stupid idea.
Edward: I'm tired of getting abused by you.
Terrence: You deserve no less.
Edward: I deserve more than you.
Terrence: What are you going to do about it? You are a pathetic....
(Edward starts to attack Terrence. Terrence starts to fight back. Some nearby buckets call the fish police who come and arrest both Edward and Terrence. Edward and Terrence are charged with fighting and keeping an improper bucket. They are sentenced to three years each and thrown into jail)
Blue fish: Edward, the local fish elections are coming up soon.
Edward (red fish): So they are, Terrence, so they are.
Terrence: Hope they have better candidates than last time.
Edward: Well last time there was one candidate as a result of that shark, Richard Wastrel, eating the other fish.
Terrence: Yes, I remember that. Most unfortunate.
Edward: Quite. Although Richard has done a fine job.
Terrence: You couldn't ask for anything better could you?
Edward: No you couldn't. I'll be sad to see him lose the next election.
Terrence: Lose? Did you say lose?
Edward: Yes I did.
Terrence: But Richard is going to win this election. Everyone knows that. I mean he has done a fantastic job so far, and even if he hadn't done he would probably eat all the other fish.
Edward: Yes, but you have to remember that Richard has become a vegetarian. He doesn't eat fish anymore.
Terrence: I thought that was a joke?
Edward: Nope. No joke. He hasn't eaten fish in ages.
Terrence: How do you.....oh, nevermind. I'm sure you have your ways you sneaky devil. So come on, tell me how Richard is going to lose?
Edward: We are going to put up our own candidate, a real winner.
Terrence: Well thank you, Edward. I'm quite humbled by....
Edward: I don't mean you, I mean this.
(Edward reaches out of the bucket and gets a boot. A large brown boot.)
Terrence: What is that?
Edward: It's a boot. A glorious brown boot. I found it the other day.
Terrence: Does it talk?
Edward: No. But that doesn't matter.
Terrence: It doesn't matter if it can't talk? Are you insane? This fish election will be the most important election that will we ever have. You are making a mockery of the political process with that thing.....hey that boot kind of looks like a seahorse don't you think?
Edward: No, I thought it looked like a sea turtle.
Terrence: A sea turtle? It looks nothing like a sea turtle.
Edward: Yes it does. A yorkshire sea turtle.
Terrence: There is no such thing as a yorkshire turtle.
Edward: Says you!
Terrence: Yes, whatever. Anyway, how are we going to get this boot to defeat Richard.
Edward: We can teach it to talk?
Terrence: Yes we could.....wait, I thought you had a plan already put in place?
Edward: No, I'm just making it up as I go along.
Terrence: Typical! Say you have a big idea yet know nothing of the details. Can't you do anything right?
Edward: But I had a great idea!
Terrence: It was a stupid idea.
Edward: I'm tired of getting abused by you.
Terrence: You deserve no less.
Edward: I deserve more than you.
Terrence: What are you going to do about it? You are a pathetic....
(Edward starts to attack Terrence. Terrence starts to fight back. Some nearby buckets call the fish police who come and arrest both Edward and Terrence. Edward and Terrence are charged with fighting and keeping an improper bucket. They are sentenced to three years each and thrown into jail)
hahaha Oh, reepbot, this is brilliant!
Columbo
Never again
(Four rats, grey with large tails are gathered together on a ;arge pile of rubbish. One rat is holding a piece of paper and ticking off names.)
Rat 1: Larry.
Larry: Here!
Rat 1: Bob.
Bob: Here!
Rat 1: Simon?
Simon: Here!
Rat 1: And that only leave me: Harry.
Bob: So what's this all about, Harry?
Simon: Yeah! I've got some garbage to eat!
Harry: Calm down, it really is quite simple. I have decided to form a band, and I want you three, along with me of course, to be in it.
Larry: A band? Sounds interesting.
Bob: Sounds looney to me.
Harry: Nah, it's not, Bob. I really thought about this. We four are going to become a funk band. Or a band that plays funk.
Simon: Will we get to eat garbage?
Harry: Ummmm, yeah, sure.
Bob: You sure don't mean a punk band?
Harry: Nope, a funk band. A funk band called 'The funky rats of funktown'. Or 'funky rats' for short.
Bob: 'The funky rats of funktown'? Are you serious?
Larry: Not sure about the name. What do you think, Simon?
Simon: Why couldn't it be called 'Yummy garbage'?
Bob: 'Yummy garbage'? That is even worse you fool!
Larry: Hey! Don't call him a fool. He hasn't eaten his garbage yet.
Simon: Yeah. My stomach feels like it hasn't eaten in weeks.
Harry: Rats, rats! Please, no fighting. Now, can we move on to the nitty gritty of this. Are you all in?
Bob: Ok, whatever. I'll give it a go. Better than destroying those mouse traps.
Simon: Hey, Harry, if I join will you pay me in garbage?
Harry: Yeah, sure, go nuts.
Simon: Yes!
Larry: I always wanted to be in a band.
Harry: And you will be, Larry! The funkiest band this side of funkytown.
Larry: Will I get to be the lead singer?
Harry: No, that will be me.
Bob: No fair! What about holding auditions?
Larry: Bob's right, Harrry. Only fair we hold auditions. What do you think, Simon?
Simon: I don't care.
Harry: You can be the drummer.
Simon: Is that like eating garbage?
Harry: Wellllll, in a way....yes.
Simon: Well I guess I'm the new drummer!
Bob: Yayyyy! Good for you,. Now, about these auditions, Harry.
Larry: Yeah, be fair.
Harry: Auditions will be a waste of time Everyone knows that I am the best singer out of the four.
Bob: I've never heard you sing, and I have known you most of your life.
Harry: Well I do sing.
Larry: Well?
Bob: Yeah, everyone thinks they're a great singer. So go on, prove it.
Harry: Ok, you know. I think you are right, Bob. Maybe auditions will be better?
Bob: Damn right it will be better. When will they be on?
Harry: I don't know. How about next week?
Bob: That's fine. Tuesday after lunch?
Larry: Sounds good. I can't wait to audition.
Simon: I can't come to the auditions. Eating garbage.
Bob: We weren't inviting you, Simon.
Simon: I know. I just wanted everyone to know I was eating garbage.
Harry: How awesome for you, Simon........ok, so next Tuesday after lunch? I'll sort out all the audition details later. Because I have written our very first song.
Larry: First song? That is impressive.
Harry: Yep, first song.
(Harry gets out a piece of paper and starts to read from it.)
Harry: Ok it goes: 'I'm just a rat of love, my feelings fit me like a glove. Eating garbage avoiding traps, my heart always knows what it wants. Let me be your ratatouille and i'll cook for you....
Bob: That doesn't sound funky at all.
Harry: You are wrong. What do you think, Larry?
Larry: Well, it doesn't sound funk to me either, Harry. Sorry.
Harry: Amatuers. What are your thoughts, Simon.
Simon: I liked the part about eating garbage.
Harry: Of course you did.
Bob: Why don't I write a song, Harry? It will be much better than your garbage. Larry, could help me.
Larry: I could?
Bob: Yeah. We would be a great songwriting team.
Larry: You really think so?
Bob: Yeah, you are quite creative, and...
Larry: Well I did write that nice story back in.......
Harry: STOP IT! THIS IS MY BAND AND I WILL NOT HAVE YOU RUINING IT! NOW FIRSTLY....
(Suddenly a big human appears looking at all the garbage (not to eat of course), scaring the rats who all scatter off in different directions. The meeting is over.).
Rat 1: Larry.
Larry: Here!
Rat 1: Bob.
Bob: Here!
Rat 1: Simon?
Simon: Here!
Rat 1: And that only leave me: Harry.
Bob: So what's this all about, Harry?
Simon: Yeah! I've got some garbage to eat!
Harry: Calm down, it really is quite simple. I have decided to form a band, and I want you three, along with me of course, to be in it.
Larry: A band? Sounds interesting.
Bob: Sounds looney to me.
Harry: Nah, it's not, Bob. I really thought about this. We four are going to become a funk band. Or a band that plays funk.
Simon: Will we get to eat garbage?
Harry: Ummmm, yeah, sure.
Bob: You sure don't mean a punk band?
Harry: Nope, a funk band. A funk band called 'The funky rats of funktown'. Or 'funky rats' for short.
Bob: 'The funky rats of funktown'? Are you serious?
Larry: Not sure about the name. What do you think, Simon?
Simon: Why couldn't it be called 'Yummy garbage'?
Bob: 'Yummy garbage'? That is even worse you fool!
Larry: Hey! Don't call him a fool. He hasn't eaten his garbage yet.
Simon: Yeah. My stomach feels like it hasn't eaten in weeks.
Harry: Rats, rats! Please, no fighting. Now, can we move on to the nitty gritty of this. Are you all in?
Bob: Ok, whatever. I'll give it a go. Better than destroying those mouse traps.
Simon: Hey, Harry, if I join will you pay me in garbage?
Harry: Yeah, sure, go nuts.
Simon: Yes!
Larry: I always wanted to be in a band.
Harry: And you will be, Larry! The funkiest band this side of funkytown.
Larry: Will I get to be the lead singer?
Harry: No, that will be me.
Bob: No fair! What about holding auditions?
Larry: Bob's right, Harrry. Only fair we hold auditions. What do you think, Simon?
Simon: I don't care.
Harry: You can be the drummer.
Simon: Is that like eating garbage?
Harry: Wellllll, in a way....yes.
Simon: Well I guess I'm the new drummer!
Bob: Yayyyy! Good for you,. Now, about these auditions, Harry.
Larry: Yeah, be fair.
Harry: Auditions will be a waste of time Everyone knows that I am the best singer out of the four.
Bob: I've never heard you sing, and I have known you most of your life.
Harry: Well I do sing.
Larry: Well?
Bob: Yeah, everyone thinks they're a great singer. So go on, prove it.
Harry: Ok, you know. I think you are right, Bob. Maybe auditions will be better?
Bob: Damn right it will be better. When will they be on?
Harry: I don't know. How about next week?
Bob: That's fine. Tuesday after lunch?
Larry: Sounds good. I can't wait to audition.
Simon: I can't come to the auditions. Eating garbage.
Bob: We weren't inviting you, Simon.
Simon: I know. I just wanted everyone to know I was eating garbage.
Harry: How awesome for you, Simon........ok, so next Tuesday after lunch? I'll sort out all the audition details later. Because I have written our very first song.
Larry: First song? That is impressive.
Harry: Yep, first song.
(Harry gets out a piece of paper and starts to read from it.)
Harry: Ok it goes: 'I'm just a rat of love, my feelings fit me like a glove. Eating garbage avoiding traps, my heart always knows what it wants. Let me be your ratatouille and i'll cook for you....
Bob: That doesn't sound funky at all.
Harry: You are wrong. What do you think, Larry?
Larry: Well, it doesn't sound funk to me either, Harry. Sorry.
Harry: Amatuers. What are your thoughts, Simon.
Simon: I liked the part about eating garbage.
Harry: Of course you did.
Bob: Why don't I write a song, Harry? It will be much better than your garbage. Larry, could help me.
Larry: I could?
Bob: Yeah. We would be a great songwriting team.
Larry: You really think so?
Bob: Yeah, you are quite creative, and...
Larry: Well I did write that nice story back in.......
Harry: STOP IT! THIS IS MY BAND AND I WILL NOT HAVE YOU RUINING IT! NOW FIRSTLY....
(Suddenly a big human appears looking at all the garbage (not to eat of course), scaring the rats who all scatter off in different directions. The meeting is over.).
That was amusing. Thank you for writing that. My favourite bits were with Simon the rat and his obsession with eating garbage. Haha.
The little spider had found a beautiful place to in which to spin his web to catch insects. For three glorious nights his web was filled aplenty with little insects on which to gorge himself upon… he was protected from birds and other creatures due to the protective cage around him. He was also protected from all of the elements… rain could not ruin his glorious web. He had a wonderful view of the whole garden around him…he could stay there forever!... or so he thought…
A big spider had seen his abundance of food from down below… he began his slow crawling ascent towards the little spiders new found home… to the horror of the little spider he saw the big spider approaching him. He was not going to give up his new found home without a fight! …
The big spider slowly inched closer and closer towards the little spider… the little spider decided to attack first. He lunged forward as hard as he could and tried to injure the big spider as much as he could possibly do before the big spider had time to injure him... or kill him. The big spider took the initial damage from the little spider until he managed to go on the attack back at him.
Even though he managed to fight valiantly his bravery was to no avail… the big spider had bitten off one of the little spiders legs. The little spider had no other choice but to retreat and quickly run as far away as he could for fear of being killed. The big spider did not pursue him… he had no need to… he had a new home.
The little spider retreated into a safe little corner of the barbecue pergola to recover from his ordeal. The big spider had wasted no time in gathering all of the food in the old web and then destroying it to build his own web in his new home. The little spider sadly watched the big spider building a magnificent huge-sized web in his old home… it glittered so beautifully in the rays of the setting sun.
Night had fallen… the little spider could only sit in a safe corner for a while to tend to his injury. He was not going to be eating too well tonight.
The male human had decided to cook the steaks for dinner on the barbecue in the outside pergola. He walked towards the barbecue and turned on the pergola lights. He then turned on the gas to the barbecue and lit up the hotplate. A moth started fluttering around his face after being attracted to the pergolas lights. He reached over to the nearby power switch… he turned it on…
‘ZZZT!...ZZZT!... KAZZZZAP!’…
The little spiders old home had instantly lit up with such a bright blue light!... the big spider died instantly. Once he had recovered after a short while the little spider decided to venture out to look for a new in home in which to build his newer, bigger web that very night. He is one lucky little spider.
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...two of my very young grand children at the time... (they were about 4 and 5 methinks)... asked me to tell them a story while we were sitting in the barbecue pergola in the back yard one day... I had to make it up on the spot so this is it... they are 16 and 17 years old now... they still remember it to this day lol!... cheers.
A big spider had seen his abundance of food from down below… he began his slow crawling ascent towards the little spiders new found home… to the horror of the little spider he saw the big spider approaching him. He was not going to give up his new found home without a fight! …
The big spider slowly inched closer and closer towards the little spider… the little spider decided to attack first. He lunged forward as hard as he could and tried to injure the big spider as much as he could possibly do before the big spider had time to injure him... or kill him. The big spider took the initial damage from the little spider until he managed to go on the attack back at him.
Even though he managed to fight valiantly his bravery was to no avail… the big spider had bitten off one of the little spiders legs. The little spider had no other choice but to retreat and quickly run as far away as he could for fear of being killed. The big spider did not pursue him… he had no need to… he had a new home.
The little spider retreated into a safe little corner of the barbecue pergola to recover from his ordeal. The big spider had wasted no time in gathering all of the food in the old web and then destroying it to build his own web in his new home. The little spider sadly watched the big spider building a magnificent huge-sized web in his old home… it glittered so beautifully in the rays of the setting sun.
Night had fallen… the little spider could only sit in a safe corner for a while to tend to his injury. He was not going to be eating too well tonight.
The male human had decided to cook the steaks for dinner on the barbecue in the outside pergola. He walked towards the barbecue and turned on the pergola lights. He then turned on the gas to the barbecue and lit up the hotplate. A moth started fluttering around his face after being attracted to the pergolas lights. He reached over to the nearby power switch… he turned it on…
‘ZZZT!...ZZZT!... KAZZZZAP!’…
The little spiders old home had instantly lit up with such a bright blue light!... the big spider died instantly. Once he had recovered after a short while the little spider decided to venture out to look for a new in home in which to build his newer, bigger web that very night. He is one lucky little spider.
---------------------------------------------------------------------THE END---------------------------------------------------------------------
...two of my very young grand children at the time... (they were about 4 and 5 methinks)... asked me to tell them a story while we were sitting in the barbecue pergola in the back yard one day... I had to make it up on the spot so this is it... they are 16 and 17 years old now... they still remember it to this day lol!... cheers.
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Dolorcito all you need is a mirror. xo
...SeanE your artwork seriously blows my mind away every time that I see it... it is such a credit to your talents... you are one highly gifted artist... great work my friend... cheers.