8FOLD: Mighty Medley # 8, August 2014, by Alambre, Brenton, Perron, Russell and Russell
pwerdna at gmail.com
Sun Aug 3 20:50:37 PDT 2014
On 8/1/2014 6:54 PM, Tom Russell wrote:
> "The Song in the Night", by Andrew Perron
> A story that contains multitudes. The Unseelie and their song; a
> lesson about littering; the indescribable valley of electrons and
> reflections in the gibbous moonlight. And ladies that kiss each other.
> So, pretty much the perfect story.
> I answer the phone and it's my insurance agent. Half through my
> morning bagel she's telling me about the afternoon accident they're
> predicting I'll be in.
These two sentences deliver a strong punchline in and of themselves. They
almost make the rest of the story redundant...
> I rush out the door and down the block. Good thing I chose a shop
> nearby. Checking my watch, I see I've _just_ enough time to get there.
> Looking up and down the busy street, though, I don't see an ambulance
> anywhere. Goodness sake, don't they know about regularly scheduled
> rush hour?
> Rounding the corner, I finally hear sirens heading my way. And
> across the street I see my lawyer sitting at the shop's patio. That
> good chap even has a piping hot cup waiting for me! I wave to him,
> take a deep breath, and relax. Things are looking up after all.
...but frankly, this ending is fun enough to warrant the whole thing.
> It was a more-or-less tyrannosaur
> looking creature which was decked out in local police department
> colours that looked suspiciously like brownshirt livery, and was being
> ridden like a horse.
> .oO( Now, wouldn't *that* be an impressive looking image for the
> opening of the second act of a story, ) she thought sardonically.
The meta just smacked me upside the head with a 2x4.
> "They were first introduced back in the mid-seventies. It was
> supposed to be a way of avoiding the OPEC oil crisis," Lee explained.
> "Then they were kept around because... well..."
> "They were cool?" Deidre asked with a grin.
Hmmmm! Interesting. You'd think that...
> And she strongly suspected that if she
> checked the municipal records that this would indeed be what had
> happened. But she wondered how far she would have to go before she
> crossed back into a version of history where it had not. And whether
> that line was stationary.
> "Your wife?!" scoffed Adams reflexively. Then he thought about how
> much he liked having his head attached to the rest of his body. "Your
> wife. Aw, Hank, that is a damn shame.
> "Don't know his name," said Hank. "Only that he's fond of flaying
> people alive.
> "Now, hold on," said Adams.
> Silke stared at him; Hank stared at him. Adams stared at the tree.
> "Never mind; let's get going."
> Became a little bigger, and it weren't
> no knight at all, but a man what was made of metal, and a horse of the
> same. The metal man wore a hat, and a suit, and upon its lapel was a
> Became a little closer, and Silke could read the badge. "Marshal
> number nine, nine, nine."
...well I didn't expect *that*.
> One steaming hot day on ancient Earth, the Twain find themselves atop
> a cliff and surrounded by a pack of atypically aggressive
Aggressive Cliff's Notes!
> The Twain fight fearsomely, but are steadily losing ground. By
> which I mean that soon there won't be any ground left for them to step
> "Hmm?" says Quasha, momentarily distracted from the joyful
> decapitation she was presently occupying herself with. "Oh, yes;
> hadn't noticed it. Really, friend Danalee, this is hardly the time to
> be admiring it."
That is a good paragraph.
> "You are the worst," says Quasha. "I'm going to kill you after I'm
> done saving you."
<3 <3 <3
Andrew "NO .SIG MAN" "Juan" Perron, adorable.
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