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Tag Archives: satire
Yes, I just slid off the top!
Ghostly metro passengers?
Ghosts haunt the metro in St Louis? Or has Collapsaricus begun his trip into the Curiositorium of our sets of states of energy already?
Shadowgrass is startled awake from a daydream
Mars land speeder?
Shadowgrass models a model Martian craft craftily.
Just plane within reach
Hive mentality?
Cyberphunk selfie
My clones have landed. Earth, beware!
The story so far…
What is it about black holes that fascinate us little sets of states of energy?
My imagination plays tricks on me at 7:30 a.m. on a Friday morning on the seventh floor of a hotel near the St. Louis airport, while down below me construction crew members, smaller than ants, begin their workday on the local freeway.
A storyline starring Lee and Guin is in the side pathways of my thoughts as I block out time slots for the morning and afternoon to snap some still photographs and video shots to make a video short story about the vainglorious immoral unethical exploits of a black hole.
I had initially named the black hole the Might Blackholio in homage to a television “character” named the Great Cornholio but I’ve changed my mind, not having been a fan of Beavis and Butthead, just a coworker of a fan (an almostfan, like an almost-famous also-ran (but not mistaken for a Ran fan)).
Last night was an almostbreakthrough evening, my wife encouraging me to dance with other people and the two of us almost having fun together on the dance floor. I need to get my wife to show me what she wants rather than tell me — there’s nothing like talking or, rather, instructing your dance partner that does more to ruin a good mood in the middle of the fluidity of West Coast Swing dancing.
Our distance from a black hole gives us hundreds of millions of years of stability in our solar system.
What if a black hole could jump through spacetime?
What if a black hole had the ability to take on a personality like a human?
What if a black hole could hide its personality amongst us?
What would be its motivations, its goals, its dreams, its passions?
I think a better name for the black hole villain in my story is Collapsaricus.
And so it shall be!
Does a Thatcher thatch roofs of mouths?
After a few rounds of “cough medicine,” Tom and Huck commenced to trading stories about their years apart from each other’s friendship.
“Why, Huck, there wasn’t a day that went by I didn’t think of Becky.”
“That ol’ girl? Why’n’t you find someone else to interest you, Tom?”
“I don’t reckon I know. It was like she was the girl what made my dreaming and carrying on worthwhile.”
“Uh-huh. What about now?”
“What do ya mean?”
“Is she still your girl?”
“That, Huck, is a story I can’t rightly tell in my condition. This ‘shine has turned me plumb sideways with sentimentality. But there is this one time I can ‘member clear a blue sky…”
“Tell me more!”
“Well, you see, Becky, being wiser ’bout some things than me, she convinced me to invite her to St. Louis for the annual fair. Thing about it is she had already arranged for us to have dinner at a fancy restaurant down by the River. There was dinner, of course. But at the end of the meal, a band started playing the most peculiar music. You shoulda been there, I tell you.”
“Yes?”
“Better yet, let me show you!”
TO BE CONTINUED…
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