-
Search Results
-
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
“I don’t have time for that” Godfrey said loudly, grumpy at being woken up by the smikst alert. “There are some people who do actually have real work to do.”
It was not difficult for him to ignore the “come back here right this instant!” of Liz’ when he walked away to the secret passageway that let him pop in and out of scenes like a peanut from its shell. He still had earplugs from his sleeping attempt, and thought they were actually quite useful.
Liz’ was far more than capable of handling the German and her ex without him.In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
“Finnley, go and tell Roberto to bring the ladder. I can’t possibly climb up through that trap door with those rickety steps, I want a proper ladder. And proper gardener to hold it steady. I wouldn’t trust any of you lot,” she said, glaring at them each in turn.
Finnley made a rude sign behind Elizabeth’s back, and clumped back down the stairs. Increasingly heated bickering between Liz and the Inspector ensued. Godfrey wandered off down the hallway tutting and shaking his head, and then darted into a spare bedroom and fell sound asleep on the bed.
Expecting a tongue lashing from Liz for being so long, Finnley was surprised that nobody noticed her return. She cleared her throat a few times trying to get their attention.
“Go and get yourself a spoonful of honey and stop making that ghastly croaking noise, Finnley!”
“The thing is, Liz,” replied the maid, “He’s gone.”
“Who?”
Exasperated, Finnley’s voice rose to an alarming falsetto. “The gardener! Roberto! He’s gone, and what’s more, he’s taken the sack with him!”
“Do get a grip, Finnley, he’s probably just taking the rubbish out. Now then, Walter, if you think I’ve forgiven you for that day when you….he’s taken what? What did you say?”
Elizabeth blanched, waving her arms around wildly as if she was drowning.
“I know a good gardener who’s looking for a job,” the Inspector said helpfully.
“You utter fool!” Elizabeth rounded on him. “My babies have been stolen and you talk about gardening! Never mind that German, or whatever it was you said you’re doing here, go and catch that thief!”
Raising an eyebrow, Finnley wondered if this was just another fiasco, or was it really a cleverly engineered plot?
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
“What was in the bag, Finnley, tell us!”
Everyone was looking at the maid after the Inspector had left hurriedly, under the pretext of taking care of a tip he had received on the disappearance of the German girl.Godfrey was the most curious in fact. He couldn’t believe in the facade of meanness that Finnley carefully wrapped herself into. The way she cared about the animals around the house was a testimony to her well hidden sweetness. Most of all, he thought herself incapable of harming another being.
But he had been surprised before. Like when Liz’ had finished a novel, long ago.“Alright, I’ll show you. Stay there, you lot of accomplices.”
Godfrey looked at Liz’ sideways, who was distracted anyway by the gardener, who was looking at the nearby closet.
“Liz’, will you focus please! The mystery is about to be revealed!”
“Oh shut up, Godfrey, there’s no mystery at all. I’ve known for a while what that dastardly maid had done. I’ve been onto her for weeks!”
“Really?”
“Oh, don’t you give me that look. I’m not as incapable as you think, and that bloodshot-eyes stupor I affect is only to keep annoyances away. Like my dear mother, if you remember.”
“So tell us, if you’re so smart now. In case it’s really a corpse, at least, we may all be prepared for the unwrapping!”
“A CORPSE! Ahaha, you fool Godfrey. It’s not A corpse! It’s MANY CORPSES!”Godfrey really thought for a second that she had completely lost it. Again. He would have to call the nearby sanatorium, make up excuses for the next signing session at the library, and cancel all future public appear…
“Will you stop that! I know what you’re doing, you bloody control machine! Stop that thinking of yours, I can’t even hear myself thinking nowadays for all your bloody thinking. Now, as I was saying of course she’d been hiding all the corpses!”
“Are you insane, Liz’ —at least keep your voice down…”
“Don’t be such a sourdough Godfrey, you’re sour, and sticky and all full of gas. JUST LET ME EXPLAIN, for Lemone’s sake!”Godfrey fell silent for a moment, eyeing a lost peanut left on a shelf nearby.
Conscious of the unfair competition for Godfrey’s attention Elizabeth blurted it all in one sentence:
“She’s been collecting them, my old failed stories, the dead drafts and old discarded versions of them. Hundreds of characters, those little things, I’d given so many cute little names, but they had no bones or shape, and very little personality, I had to smother them to death.” She started sobbing uncontrollably.That was then that Finnley came back in the room, panting and dragging the sack coated in dirt inside the room, and seeing the discomfit Liz’ with smeared make-up all over her eyes.
“Oh, bloody hell. Don’t you tell me I brought that dirty bag of scraps up for nothing!”
She left there, running for the door screaming “I’m not doing the carpets again!”
And closed the door with a sonorous “BUGGER!”
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
Finnley woke with a start. She’d been dreaming that she was chatting and giggling with a group of girlfriends. At one point they all held hands and starting running through a field of flowers, singing at the tops of their high girlish voices.
Thank flove that was just a dream, she thought, breathing deeply to calm herself.
“Finnley! What are you doing curled up on the chaise-longue? Don’t tell me you are sleeping on the job? Good grief, what next!”
Finnley felt an unexpected rush of emotion towards Liz. Don’t ever change, you rude, dictatorial, bossy tart, she thought, still shaking off the remnants of the awful nightmare.
“You want me to get rid of the German?” she asked gruffly.
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
Ronaldo, the new gardener, came out of the same nowhere as Godfrey, which Finnley with her eyes in every corner of the house found quite suspicious. She still hadn’t found the secret passageways these two were using and most of all she didn’t understand the WHY? of their strange behaviour.
“I’m going to dust the fireplace,” she said looking at the two men at the same time; she had learned that looking at chameleons. If there was a secret door there or a secret button to open one, she’d certainly find it by now. The men didn’t react much.
She left the room and pushed Ronaldo on the side with a twist of her hip while at the same time clicking on her phone screen to send a message to a friend. She had mastered that particularly useful move last summer at the Know Your Buddy Body seminar. She was quite glad she attended as she also met that lovely woman, a kindred spirit if she dared say. The only problem was that she had a girl with a German accent, and Finnley suspected Jingle was that girl. What was the name of her new friend again ?
She went to the fireplace and began to probe every corner with her duster, still texting to her friend.
Her last message “Why have you sent your daughter?”
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
Liz was furious. She stormed into the living room of the manoir where she found Finnley, swishing her duster lethargically and rather randomly with one hand while she texted with the other. Liz frowned but decided to ignore this blatant breach of cleaning protocol. There were more pressing matters on hand!
“My fury knows no bounds, “ she said, rather dramatically, to Finnley.
Finnley grunted non-committedly. Liz was encouraged by the unexpected response.
“That child, Jingle — and what a ridiculous name — that child is the rudest person it has ever been my misfortune to meet. Do you know what she said to me?” She glared accusingly at Finnley.
“No”, said Finnley.
“I was kind enough to read her an extract from my latest novel and she had the audacity to say, in that awful german accent of hers, that I was getting on her nerves with my outpourings. That “I” was getting on “her” nerves! The cheek of it.”
“That is quite rude,” agreed Godfrey, who appeared from nowhere, as usual. “But don’t worry, dear Liz, it is just a projection of her own insecurities. It always is. Unless it is you being rude one, of course, in which case it is no doubt most profound and accurate,” he added hurriedly, wisely thinking it was best to cover his bases.
“Just get rid of her,” said Finnley.
In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions
Geraldine von Truff, also known as Gelly by her friends was sweating profusely and had opened all the windows to get air.
“Fracken hot flashes” she said, taking a wet towel to freshen up. It was barely start of spring, and the temperatures were doing yoyo in the most peculiar fashion.She logged onto Spayce to check if her next client was there. Maybe she’ll put him on audio, because at the rate she was undressing, he would wonder whether he’d signed on the right account. After all, she was a licenced psychoregressor and helped her clients connect to their subconscious in hypnotic trances. This was all very serious.
Actually, to be honest, she was quite baffled by the crock of bollocks the subconscious was telling at times, but hell, it was cathartic for her clients, and their well-being was her utmost priority.
“James? Are you here?”
James was her client from Glasgow, an affable middle-aged man, who seemed to have taken to her robotic German accent and her hypnoregressive sessions.“Yes, Doctor” the sound came in all distorted. “Is it normal I don’t have visual?”
“Ja, alles ist gut my friend, the internet is playing tricks today. Let’s have it just audio, OK?”
“Alright then.”
“I think our session today will be splendid. I already feel all the energies building up.”In reply to: Rafaela’s Random Ramblings
Pooh
– An Original Song
by Consuela
I get on with life as a writer,
I’m a loose kinda person.
I like basketball on Sundays,
I like diving in the week.
I like to contemplate scooter.
But when I start to daydream,
My mind turns straight to exercise mat.Boom boom shake da boom-boom-boom!
Do I love exercise mat more than scooter?
Do I love exercise mat more than scooter?
I like to use words like ‘pooh,’
I like to use words like ‘tart.’
I like to use words about scooter.
But when I stop my talking,
My mind turns straight to exercise mat.Boom boom shake da boom-boom-boom!
Do I love exercise mat more than scooter?
Do I love exercise mat more than scooter?I like to hang out with Godfrey,
I like to kick back with Flove,
But when left alone,
My mind turns straight to exercise mat.Boom boom shake da boom-boom-boom!
Do I love exercise mat more than scooter?
Do I love exercise mat more than scooter?I’m not too fond of italian bank,
I really hate germans,
But I just think back to exercise mat,
And I’m happy once againBoom boom shake da boom-boom-boom!
In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
There was something familiar with the road. The trees, the warmth. It was a fine weather for the season. Almost 70°F. Janet Mendyourhall had a strong feeling of déjà vu. She was on her way to Sedona to attend the annual Glasnik meeting. The Threshold to 2013. Since she had been posted to the West Coast, she was to attend every psychic or ET manifestation in the area. And believe it or not, there was a lot of them. The Lightbearers, Glasnik, The Crimson Feathers, and all the less famous ones like Birgitt’s Wheel from Germany, the reincarnation of Von Bingen.
Janet was trying to go to those events with an open mind, which usually means that as a premise you didn’t believe what you were going to see. And she had seen a lot of crap and a few gems.
She realized the car needed gas, luckily she was not far from Cottonwood. That name triggered steamy memories and a blush on her face. She had always loved meeting that young boy, he had such a sense of service, and such a wonderful body. She turned left without even thinking of it. The sun was high in the sky and the light was playing through the trees, still green her mind registered.
When she arrived at the station, the boy was discussing with another woman in a red car. Her hands squizzed the wheel and her lips tightened. That feeling of déjà vu again.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
« … local time in Sydney is 5:55 PM, temperature on the ground is 55°F (23°C)… »
— Seems like five fives… a hazy Mavis emerging from a heap of plane sheets said, still with her yellow hand-knitted blindfold on her eyes, probably for herself more than for the benefit of her bedazzled neighbours.
As no one was answering, she continued her monologue while the man near her was looking embarrassed, avoiding the gaze of the cackling woman.
— You know, I’ve always got lots of fives in my life, I was the fifth girl of my family, born May 5 th, “Mavis”, my first name’s got five letters, and the coincidences go on and on, once you think of it, that is positively amazing, I daresay. German say five is “fünf”, so for me, it’s fun and play, when I put that in perspective… Still better to have that kind of outlook on these coincidences as they are piling up so well, don’t you think…Still getting no answer from them, she continued imperturbably.
— Oh, great, we are arrived… That journey was exhausting, not that I lacked any sleep for that matter, but you know, my legs got all swollen, and my bladder is playing tricks on me… Good thing I had these socks, you see, the vendor told me they were perfect for long-haul plane trips, not that I can see any difference anyway… Worse thing, if you ask me, was that rushing through the Japanese airport… I would not have made it without the help of this Spanish couple. Man was kind enough to push me on a trolley to the boarding gate… Now, where is this lovely couple,… hope they didn’t leave without me. It seems we all go to the same destination, how funny isn’t it? An angelic spa in a heavenly island… Sounds lots of fun… I can’t wait to see my friends here!
Mavis was now standing on the seat of the plane, to get a better outlook on the back of the plane, for any chance to see Jose Maria and Paquita, while most of the other travelers were in a rush to go outside, already reaching for their bags and switching on their mobile phones. Truly, as stout and short as she was, standing on the seat hardly made any difference, for she was barely able to see past the high seat, but she finally got what she wanted.
— WOOOHOOO! I’M HERE! she started to wave at the couple, busy reaching for their belongings.
