“Did you know your shelf isn’t straight?”
“Yes, thank you David, but yes, I noticed.”
“Alright, I’m just saying.”
The men sit in silence sipping on their beer.
“That one over there’s wonky too.” Said David, pointing behind him. His acute sense of straightness allowed him to see the 5 degree slant.
“Get out,” replied Nathan. “I’ve had it up to here with your shit,” he said holding his hand above his head.
“That’s a bit wonky to the left,” he said as he gathered his coat and left.
We locked our love in the great French capital on the summer of 2008. You told me you would love me forever, but by the winter of 2009, you had left me.
In 2011 I learnt that you had locked your love with another. In 2012 I ordered the destruction of every love lock and their immediate ban.
In 2013 you got married.
Little did I know, in my jealous rage, I had freed you from your obligation. You were finally free to be another’s.
Toeny Jefderson awoke with a sudden start at the site of the big orange fox. He did not look at all happy to find an intruder in his home, he said as much too.
“I am not at all happy to find an intruder in my home, little mouse.”
“I’m no mouse you silly old fox!”
The fox growled, and Toeny’s belly growled back. The fox stood stone silent. And then, he laughed.
A great big laugh that sent him rolling out of the cave, he tumbled down the hill and into the road.
Toeny stood up and ran to the edge of the cave. Just in time to see the big orange fox, splattered by a car.
The moral of the story kids, don’t laugh at someone less fortunate than yourselves.
Ever since he had been given his freedom, Mr Toeny Jefferson felt like a new fillangi. He felt good for the first time in his short life and as he made his way out of the house he had shared with his master for as long as he could remember, he felt ready to take on the world.
It wasn’t long until he regretted his sudden departure. He had no clothes to warm himself, no food, which until now he had not needed but since developing consciousness, it had become vital and no place to lay his head, which again, he suddenly found he needed to be able to function.
He walked and walked but as the temperature dropped, so did his joy, his pride and his hope. He shivered from toe top to toe bottom and something in him that must have been his belly growled.
Eventually he came across a field. And as he walked past, he noticed a little hole dug into the ground. It looked a little dry and dust, but warm and cosy too and as he was only small, Toeny had plenty of room.
He clambered up the hill, crawled into the mouth of the cave and looked at his resting stop. The mouth of the hole was as warm and as dry as he had hoped, he was a little afraid by the pitch black of the sudden drop at the back of his new home but after calling down into the darkness, he decided that it was probably safe.
He slept peacefully on the ground. For hours he slept and then days, it was such a wonderful and new experience for him, he loved sleep as not even his growling belly could wake him up.
The only thing that could shake him from his slumber was a big, orange fox, nudging him with his nose, his big sharp white teeth bared. But that is a story for another day.
With the nail bent and twisted, it burrowed into the soft flesh of the toe like a screw into wood. It got in deep, bled, pussed and with the sweat from hard working feet, it got infected.
It bulged, a big bulbous red, throbbing entity. It look angry, embarrassed, painful, revolting and marginally decayed, all at once.
It was ignored, hidden beneath socks and shoes and dulled by pain kills and alcohol. It became a limp, a distraction, a constant pain.
One day, it could not be ignored any longer. After several long weeks of keeping it out of sight, out of mind, it eas revealed.
There, upon the nail bed, a face had grown. Amongst the angry redness, life had formed. And it spoke.
It spoke of how it wanted to be free, that it had heard so much of the world that it wanted to see it. It was alive and it wanted to live.
So, the toe was severed. The pain was both excruciating and relieving. The toe was freed, and aside from a little shakiness in my balance, I was back to normal.
The toe meanwhile, well, he lived a long life on the read. But that is a story for another time.
Mary had a little lamb. Had a little lamb. A little lamb. But those bastards and bitches and no good lying scum took her from me. They took my name, they took my land, they took my people, they took my gods. They rolled across this fair and wonderful land and left it godless, destroyed and defaced.
No more. It is time for pay back.
Corporal Weiderhaim led the American soldiers out of the pub doors and into the dark alley that led out onto the houses bordering the pub. One of them stumbled off home, apparently loosing interest in the beautiful woman now that the temperature had dropped,whilst another soldier remained in the pub toilets, passed out on the tiles with his own vomit and other peoples piss covering him. Sergent Von Houff followed the woman and her two companions out.
Weiderhaim had pushed them gently against the wall and had begun to work her way out of her top when Von Houff and his soldiers emerged and, in thick German accencts told them to hand over their weapons. They did as they were told before being asked (or commanded, depending on what side of the fence you fall on) how to get in to the army base.
The pub was bristling with people determined not to let Hitler and his comrades bring their spirit down. The windows were taped, to stop the glass shattering over the patrons of the small local and the doors were heavily defended with two feet of piled sandbags, neither bomb nor flood would disrupt the drinkers, who themselves were crammed into small booths or standing at the bar with elbows tucked in and shoulders pressed to their ears, patiently waiting their turn.
Darkness was beginning to fall outside and already thick heavy curtains were being pulled across the glass and taped down to prevent any light escaping. The Great British Blackout, a vanishing cloak for the country.
Somewhere near the back of the hall a young woman was laughing, cackling really, at a joke that two American soldiers had made about a third who sat looking glumly at his empty glass. Elsewhere, four older gentleman (who’d taken full opportunity of their night off from watch duty to get as blindly drunk as watered down alcohol could get you) shook their heads and fiddled with their dry wispy moustaches. They’d lost sons recently, or grandsons, you could see it in their wrinkles.
In a corner, positioned next to the window, which was on their left, as you looked at them with the bar behind you, a fire place on the other side and then a group of couples who were talking so loudly over one another that it was difficult to make very much of any conversation. The pub was thin, old, small (both floor space and ceiling height and stank of smoke and tobacco. It was not a smell that Sergent Von Houff had much of a taste for. He adjusted his borrowed uniform that he liberated from an American, a private of all ranks! – and kept his eyes firmly fixed on the actual American soldiers who were growing more and more inebriated with every passing minute. He scratched at his neck, the cheap material coarse on his clean shaven skin. Their friend, Corporal Weiderhaim, better known as the busty blonde currently seducing the American soldiers so as to…
165 Years Later
“This is it fellows! Now is the time! What we have been waiting for. We are the decedents of a genius, a true wizard. Let us join our talismans and bring him back, for then we shall have ultimate power. Finally, we will be rewarded for our families long struggle.”
The group of young men and women touched the necklaces together, the cold heart of the grey glass didn’t move. They tried again, the clink ringing in their ears as silence followed.
…and what you must swear never to tell them – nothing is going to happen, but it will keep the family together, keep the magic alive and will make me laugh from heaven above.
And so, in my last will and testament, I hereby state, that upon my death, my ashes are to be split into seven equal pieces and those pieces in turn shall be turned to necklaces. And these necklaces, in turn, are to be passed to each of my children who, in turn are instructed to pass them to their eldest child, and so on and so forth for seven generations. And with each passing of these talismans, it is my request that the following story be recited for them to learn for their own children. They shall be told nothing more than this story…
A very brave but muddied old man, on the brink of his death, discovered the trick to immortality. Not as it has been showcased in many a work of fiction, but in a whole new sense. When his soul be brought back together, after generations apart, he shall be reborn. And in his rebirth, he shall have the powers of a wizard, the wishes of a genie and the intelligence of a world renowned scientist. Seven shall be his guide and all shall fear his power.
Harry Daniel 