Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes
“Do you know what I miss about the Internet?” asked Red.
“Not a clue,” replied Serpent.
“Old school message boards,” said Red.
“Oh they were awful,” cried Serpent. “So many bad designs and layouts. The nasty trolls. Nobody could miss them!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Red. “I’m all forum.”
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“Where have you been this morning?” asked Blue.
“Just went to a P.A. meeting,” sighed Black.
“P.A. meeting?” asked Blue.
“Pessimists Anonymous,” replied Black.
“Oh,” said Hydra. “How did that go?”
“The turnout wasn’t great,” grumbled Black. “The room was half empty.”
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“Well, that’s stupid,” moaned Flower.
“What is?” asked Hill.
“Just bought a can opener,” grumbled Flower. “It doesn’t open cans though.”
“Ah,” said Hill. “Can’t opener.”
Flower groaned.
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“So, why did you suggest Serpent changes shape?” asked Hydra.
“Well,” sighed Red. “Humans seem to confuse serpents, snakes and evil people.”
“So she sometimes wakes as an evil woman?” pondered Hydra. “That sounds awful.”
“Oh it gets worse,” said Red. “She’s woken up as a British politician a few times.”
“The horror!” gasped Hydra.
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“Don’t beat yourself up,” said Red. “At least your form stays the same.”
“How do you mean?” asked Hydra.
“Serpent seems to be the collective idea humans have of serpents,” replied Red. “They often see her as inherently evil.”
“She’s alright though yeah?” pondered Hydra.
“Oh, she’s lovely,” replied Red. “Though she does obsess over offering people apples.”
Considering how undeniably London I am, there’s a distinct lack of cockney slang on the Little Fears…
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“I got kicked out,” sighed Scorps.
“Of what?” asked Fuen.
“Fire starting contest,” said Scorps.
“Oh dear,” said Fuen. “What for?”
“Match-fixing,” grumbled Scorps.
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“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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“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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“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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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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Little Fears 