Feckin’ Foxes

“Feckin’ foxes,” she yells, kicking the bin bag.

She was baffled by how they kept coming. She’d put so much poison in her bin bags that all the neighbour’s cats and most of the dogs had died. But never all of the foxes.

She ties the top of the bin bag shut, again, and drops it in the metal can. “Feckin’ foxes.”

Last week she moved onto injecting cyanide into meat and treats, and leaving them about the estate. Nearly all the local birds were dead now.

She wanders back indoors. She feels rank break against the back of her neck. She turns. Rows of sharp yellow teeth greet her.

Feckin’ foxes.

Yep. That voice over right there is the onset of my first cold of the Autumn season… 🙂

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Math Tutor

“Bloody teachers,” grumbled Spider.

“What’s up?” asked Serpent.

“My math tutor just called me average,” ranted Spider.

“Oh dear,” replied Serpent. “How mean…”

Normal service resumed! Kinda! You’ll notice my little slider has been removed from below posts, the flavour text at the bottom has changed and the titles are missing from the main page. There’s a handful of other changes I’ve made along with it that most folk won’t notice.

I’ve done what I can to get the like button to show up on new posts going forward, but it’s not something I care enough about to spend more time on. We were discussing on social media last week about removing likes entirely from blogs. I get a lot of people like to show like love. Myself included, I have always been a self-confessed liker. But if likes were missing from a blog, what would change? What would be missed? People won’t stop reading something if they can’t click a button at the end. If anything I imagine it would encourage more comments to be honest. It certainly has this last week.

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Lucy’s Wife

“My wife left me,” sighed Lucy.

“Oh dear,” said Fuen. “How are you taking it?”

“Awful,” sighed Lucy. “I have been so lonely and depressed I bought a dog, and a new motorbike then had sex with two women and spent a fortune on drink and drugs.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” replied Fuen.

“Mmm,” mumbled Lucy. “She’s gonna go mad when she gets home from the shops…”

Well, obviously Lucy was going to start migrating into some of the humorous tales. Everyone loves the wicked spirit, Lucy, right?

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Jelly Pasta

Jellyfish arrived, dressed as pasta.

“OK,” said Reala. “I’ll bite.”

“Not me you won’t!” yelled Jellyfish with a smile.

“Jellyfish,” said Reala, “why are you dressed as macaroni…”

“Fake macaroni,” pipped in Jellyfish.

“Why then,” replied Reala, “are you dressed as a fake macaroni?”

Jellyfish grinned. “I’m an impasta!”

“Good grief,” sighed Reala.

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Crab Football

“She was hopeless,” sighed Crabs.

“That bad huh?” asked Cloud.

“Who at what?” asked Fuen.

“I took Cinderella to a charity soccer match,” said Crabs. “She was meant to be our goalie.”

“Not that good, aye?” asked Fuen, walking into it.

“Awful,” said Crabs. “She kept running away from the ball.”

Fuen winced.

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Bedside Manners

Malcolm wondered how these cases came about. He knew this was going to stick with him.

The young boy drifted in and out of sleep.

Malcolm’s hand brushed over the model aeroplanes hanging from the roof.

The boy stirred.

Malcolm pulled his hammer out of his belt.

The boy smiled up at Malcolm. Malcolm smiled back

Maybe it was better if the boy didn’t live. At least he wouldn’t have to witness the horrors to come.

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Mountain Nights

“Mate, you look wrecked,” laughed Hydra.

“Thanks,” grumbled Mountain, hugging a coffee.

“Late night?” asked Hydra.

“Very,” sighed Mountain. “I stayed up all night. I wanted to know why humans are in awe of the sun rising.”

“Oh,” said Hydra.

“Yeah,” mumbled Mountain. “Then it dawned on me.”

Hohoho! That’s a vintage punch-line right there!

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Clickety Click

The doorknob clicked.

He held his breath, clenching his fingers around his son’s mouth.

Don’t make a sound.

Clickety click.

Those strange footsteps. They sounded distant. From their place under the bed, he couldn’t see any feet or legs.

Clickety click.

That was close. Where was she?

A clawed hand ripped down through the bed from above. He screamed. His son was already dead.

A Little Friday horror for you. I think I’m finally getting better at delivering the horror stories over audio. Finally… 🙂