“Yeah,”
grumbled Claws. “A hundred pigeons led a violent uprising.”
“Oh
dear,” said Yuffie. “Did they take legal ownership of your farm
as well?”
“All seventy-six acres,” cried Claws. “I tell ya, it was a planned coo.”
For anyone in need of a laugh this morning, there’s a bird I follow on Twatter. Jon Pigeon. A biscuit obsessed London pigeon who can work social media. twitter.com/pigeonjon
“No
horse,” sighed Sprite. “Your spellings as bad as the
illustrators.”
“Well,
the English language is stupid,” grumbled Horse. “I before e my
fuzzy mane.”
“It’s
a given rule mate,” replied Sprite. “Except for when my foreign
neighbour Keith, a weightlifting financier from Leith, was in a
feisty heist with eight reindeer.”
The old neon lights
flickered annoyingly, giving a cheap stroboscopic feeling to every
move the barman made, behind the counter. Bolt pushed his empty glass
on the bar.
“If I keep the
refills coming, you’ll get totally hammered. You know that, right?”
Bolt’s stare back
was probably intended as a clear request to shut up and fill his
glass, but since the bar tender didn’t show any intention of reaching
for the scotch bottle, Bolt mumbled…
“That would be the
plan. Unless you suddenly have scruples?”
The barman laughed,
and his very white teeth blinked like a Cheshire Cat disco smile.
“And what is the
occasion, if I may ask?”
Bolt frowned, still
waiting for his booze.
“Remember the red
head girl I offered a ride home, last Friday?” The barman nodded.
“Well, I gave her a ride, home. I nailed her. “
The bar tender
finally reached for the bottle on the shelf.
“Did your
wife….?”
“Yup, she found
out. I am a terrible liar.”
The man poured him a
double and gave him a sympathetic look.
“Oh, Bolt… I am
sorry.”
Bolt downed the
drink, and handed his glass for another.
“Yup, I’m screwed.”
This week’s Sunday collab was written by Cyranny of Cyranny’s Cove. Pretty sure y’all know Cyranny by now. A long time Fears’erer, prolific blogger and scribbler of words.
I lost two episodes during the WordPress 5.0 troubles. If they turn up, I’ll slot them in. Until then, I hope you enjoy Copper and Irons complete story.
“I got sacked from my job at Equine Bank,” grumbled Horse.
“Aww, I’m sorry to hear that,” said Red. “What happened?”
“Well, some old lady came in and asked me to check her balance,” grumbled Horse. “So I pushed her over.”
Now I know there’s a fear of horses! Equinophobia!
The only fear I have of ponies is that my hands getting sunburned and a pony mistakes my fingers for carrots. Shetland ponies are lovely until they see orange. Then all bets are off!
I wonder what that’s called… Carroponyfingerphobia?
“Could someone
give DCI Lily a call,” asked Reala.
“Sure,”
replied Lucy. “Something up?”
“I think Sprite
just stole my anti-depressants,” grumbled Reala.
“Darn,”
said Fuen. “I hope he’s happy with himself.”
I didn’t find any particular phobias of pills, although there’s a lot of people with a fear of swallowing pills. I did discover there’s a medication phobia known as pharmacophobia. A fear of pharmacological treatments. That’s gotta be a bit of a bother to have.
The corvid sat in
the tree outside. Peering through the window. Crows, ravens, rooks
and magpies assembled underneath. They’d peer around the curtains,
always looking for the televisions.
He left the curtains open and TV on to see if they’d get bored and leave him alone. They sat outside all night. Watching the static and listening to the white noise. Only moving on, when they’d received their instructions.
For all the Fuen’isms I’ve written on this website, she’s never been in a horror/weird fiction story. Funny thing. As a crow spirit, I have a lot of scope to shift her to the weird fiction side. It’s just never occurred to me to do it before.
Do you know what has occurred to me? Putting her on a t-shirt, and I’ve put her on loads over on my Threadless store. Need a link? littlefears.threadless.com
Currently with free shipping, just copypasta the following code: FREESHIP4197cca8e
Little Fears 