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Bad Seafood posted:While we're on the subject, only six hours left for Muffin and Twist.
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Dec 27, 2014 04:01
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:Breaking kayfabe, you can't do that. I didn't agree to a toxx and you can't suddenly give me one just before the deadline. SurreptitiousMuffin posted:HEY CHUCKLEFUCKS, I AM INTRODUCING A NEW THREAD RULE lol
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Dec 27, 2014 04:10
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Dec 27, 2014 04:12
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blue squares fucked around with this message at 04:26 on Dec 27, 2014 |
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Dec 27, 2014 04:23
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 That's a wrap for sign-ups this week! I look forward to reading all of your mer-stories. Grizzled Patriarch fucked around with this message at 06:15 on Dec 27, 2014 |
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Dec 27, 2014 06:11
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Oh loving fine. You assholes never listened to me or enforced it before. How lovely you're choosing to start now. I can't do this poo poo right now. I can't write any more. There's nothing there. three leaves I Rain stings his skin. He grasps his jacket; as if he floated below an ocean seeking to reclaim the land. His hair carves rivers down his back in drips and drabs. He shivers thrice and swears to never leave her side again. II Dressed in pristine white, the town is swept clean. Snow covers every street and every scene of longing. Intolerable peace of mind, buried beneath deep drifts and easy dreams. Water trickles down his boots- summons memories of the past promise. He fears the future- but keeps a hearth alight. III The earth bursts with new life lifted up out of loam in fragile honeyed scents. He removes his jacket- a bulwark against the budding sense of rebirth, and the new- and the old restored to beauty. They drift together through winter's laughing child. He kneels to pluck a yellow flower. A gift given thrice- from earth to him, to her. Epilogue day without number Warm rain bathes them walking home through tumult and bustle they come across a jacket left lonely and crumpled at the corner by the store. Water trickles down his back and he remembers a promise kept. They dance without cease, with the passing of each brutish day, in a fury gorgeous to behold. Restless, endless- a charge towards some slice of heaven while the years bear on down.
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Dec 27, 2014 06:57
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:Oh loving fine. You assholes never listened to me or enforced it before. How lovely you're choosing to start now. I can't do this poo poo right now. I can't write any more. There's nothing there. Hi muffin please calm down There's actually been a lot of confusion about your rule, so we're going to codify and clarify in the next thread. Brawl toxxes are here to stay, but it's up to the individual brawl judge to declare a given brawl a toxx brawl. So in the future, it will hopefully be a lot more clear because toxxes will not count unless the brawl judge specifies a toxx and all participants agree. Babbies take note though, as ornery as muffin is being, it's better to post than fail.
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Dec 27, 2014 07:19
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:Oh loving fine. You assholes never listened to me or enforced it before. I've assumed every brawl since then was an auto-toxx. I almost didn't think to even mention it in my warning.
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Dec 27, 2014 07:25
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Closer Than They Appear 1932 words E: Archives Ironic Twist fucked around with this message at 23:56 on Jan 1, 2015 |
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Dec 27, 2014 07:32
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Bad Seafood posted:I was under the impression it was always being silently enforced, just that nobody's tripped up since then except I think Benny (who was, in fact, banned). A lot of us threw our weight behind your declaration, in the thread and IRC. 100% agree with this. I was the one who took the brunt of the last few unbanned no-shows, so I was grateful for the rule, and still am.
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Dec 27, 2014 07:39
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Technically you can't be toxxed by someone else or by the rules of a thread or anything like that. You actually have to post that you're toxxing yourself. Also if someone does toxx themselves the judge can't just give clemency. So make sure your kidneys are in good shape before toxxing for a brawl, as someone is likely to alert amod regardless.
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Dec 27, 2014 08:03
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:Breaking kayfabe, you can't do that. I didn't agree to a toxx and you can't suddenly give me one just before the deadline. lolol
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Dec 27, 2014 08:13
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newtestleper posted:Technically you can't be toxxed by someone else or by the rules of a thread or anything like that. You actually have to post that you're toxxing yourself. In my everso humble opinion, if you're gonna toxx, it needs to be explicit (because assumptions make muffins cry) and should probably be part of the challenge before a judge appears so both challengers are accepting of the stakes before anyone wastes grey matter on a prompt.
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Dec 27, 2014 08:25
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:Breaking kayfabe, you can't do that. I didn't agree to a toxx and you can't suddenly give me one just before the deadline. Not gonna resile from the lolol because come the gently caress on that poo poo is hilarious but with this as a spur we're gonna jump the gun a bit and turn off kayfabe for the year. Until the new thread comes in on 1 Jan, all may speak and not be shouted at. this is the time for careposts and feelposts and rageposts, what you want more or less of, to say what you like, what you loathe, what you find weirdly arousing about this dome of thunder. All existing prompts and deadlines still stand, of course. sebmojo fucked around with this message at 08:56 on Dec 27, 2014 |
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Dec 27, 2014 08:43
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Fumblemouse posted:Just for historical accuracy, Benny self toxxed during our duel. This is pretty much the way we are looking to go, though the mechanics are tbd. Brawls are important and should be meaningful, and that can't happen if people blow them off. That was the intent of Muffin's ragespasm up there (lolololol) and he was right. Toxx is a great way to do that, but there needs to be an explicit statement somewhere or the mods won't enforce them. My first thought was to talk to the mods and get confirmation that a brawl was always a toxx, and put that in the OP. Second thought was to only make brawls toxxes when the brawl judge said so; so it's up to the judge. This would also need a bit of mod concurrence but adds a bit more flexibility. Third option is i guess the status quo, but it's a pretty bad option. The assumption is and should stay that if you're calling a motherfucker out then something is on the line. but whatever we pick has to have the minimum of rules tied to it. what do u think
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Dec 27, 2014 08:56
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sebmojo posted:This is pretty much the way we are looking to go, though the mechanics are tbd.
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Dec 27, 2014 09:00
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:Okay you can shut the gently caress up now thanks. This is a thread of nice people Muffin-pants! Nice people with positive dispositions!
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Dec 27, 2014 09:05
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stop brawling so much over Fun Good Times and brawl over actual arguments. Like right now. also i'll probably be entering again starting next week
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Dec 27, 2014 09:06
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SurreptitiousMuffin posted:Okay you can shut the gently caress up now thanks. I hope tomorrow is a better day for you than today was.
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Dec 27, 2014 09:23
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sebmojo posted:
I'm for this option as well. If the judge and participants all agree on a toxx, that's fine. If someone doesn't want to brawl, they can either talk it out with the other people involved or back out like weak baby pansy flower. Brawls were intended to be a way to resolve grudges. The whole idea of the toxx rule is that people shouldn't brawl unless they've got enough of a beef that it's worth upping the stakes. This attitude isn't always applicable, for whatever reason, so I think there should be flexibility. But really I would like the approach that causes the least rules lawyering. SurreptitiousMuffin posted:Okay you can shut the gently caress up now thanks. 
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Dec 27, 2014 10:07
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Don't preface your story.
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Dec 27, 2014 10:37
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Brawl toxxes shouldn't be mandatory, because the point of a toxx is to be voluntary and self-imposed. You should toxx your brawl, because people who fail their brawls are the worst people ever. Like, literally the worst. Ever. Any self respecting judge will refuse to prompt non-toxx brawls. Cleanse the slacker. Purge the failure. If you see any suspicious activity regarding non-toxxed brawls, report to your next BALLs station. For real though, toxx your brawls you babies.
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Dec 27, 2014 14:08
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Dec 27, 2014 16:16
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sebmojo posted:Until the new thread comes in on 1 Jan, all may speak and not be shouted at. this is the time for careposts and feelposts and rageposts, what you want more or less of, to say what you like, what you loathe, what you find weirdly arousing about this dome of thunder. In that case, I'm going to carepost, for whatever it's worth. I agree that the rules around brawl toxxes were unclear. I would be just as frustrated as Muffin if I were threatened with enforcement of a nebulous non-rule that's still being worked out. I also think his reaction was completely valid and appropriate in a forum that encourages aggressive or frustrated posting. As for kayfabe, I get that it makes for a good show to kick someone when they're down, but when the person is legit hurting to the point where they can't write anymore, I think the thread ought to be better than that. Muffin is smart and talented and I look forward to the day where he feels like he can write again. Invalidating his perfectly reasonable feelings/reactions isn't going to make that day come any sooner.
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Dec 27, 2014 16:26
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gently caress you ignorant rear end holes you're all dumb as poo poo and know nothing about my writing abilities, i'm also in my mid 30s so you're just literal children. you're all weak and make the worst attempts at fronting which is evident in the typical fat carb munching nerd passive aggression in the last two posts. i would have owned all you biches in high school and college and own you today in social status, wealth and happiness per capita
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Dec 27, 2014 17:49
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You may own me in happiness per capita but rgats only because i own a lot more heads than you do
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Dec 27, 2014 18:08
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crabrock posted:gently caress you ignorant rear end holes you're all dumb as poo poo and know nothing about my writing abilities, i'm also in my mid 30s so you're just literal children. you're all weak and make the worst attempts at fronting which is evident in the typical fat carb munching nerd passive aggression in the last two posts. i would have owned all you biches in high school and college and own you today in social status, wealth and happiness per capita u also own us in girth (u fat)
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Dec 27, 2014 18:09
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Dec 27, 2014 18:51
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Broenheim Your brawl entry is due in 10 hours.
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Dec 27, 2014 20:09
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Jitzu_the_Monk posted:In that case, I'm going to carepost, for whatever it's worth. By carepost, you mean jokepost, right? RIGHT?!
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Dec 27, 2014 20:20
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blue squares posted:By carepost, you mean jokepost, right? RIGHT?! your just too much of a two-balled bitch to carepost
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Dec 27, 2014 20:25
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Jitzu_the_Monk posted:In that case, I'm going to carepost, for whatever it's worth. On the one hand, I'm sympathetic. Muffin's having a lovely time right now and that sucks. And yeah the rules-free nature of the dome makes things like brawl toxxing more confusing than they should be, which is why we're nailing it down for next year now. On the other hand, lots of people round here have the shittiest poo poo going on in their lives, so that in itself doesn't make you special. Also, failing a toxx is not that big of a deal. If you can't afford the  then either wait until you can or someone will likely help you out. It's a bit humiliating, but that's the point.Muffin (who i love like a weird, stressed-out brother and who is, on a good day, probably the best wordsmith in the place) has a long history of assuming the rules, such as they are, dont apply to him. So preemptively assigning a rule to everyone then acting all hurt and baffled when he's expected to apply the rule to himself is both typical and deeply lolworthy. This thread isnt the place to bring your pain and expect to get it cared about; that is not what its for.
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Dec 27, 2014 21:45
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fumblemouse wins by default in a stupid benny brawl
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Dec 28, 2014 00:46
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The Lockbox Words: 916 I looked out the window as raindrops splattered against the pane. Calvin fooled around on his phone in the livingroom, the distant music of some mediocre IOS game humming in my ears. The honeymoon phase had worn a bit. The neighbors’ SUV pulled into their driveway, and the happy family jumped out in their bright yellow raincoats. Their young girl seemed like the happiest creature on the planet as she bounded through the puddles. “Calvin,” I said. “Yes?” “We should adopt a child.” Calvin put down the phone, and gave me the look of a parent telling their kid there isn’t a Santa Claus. “You know we can’t. It’s illegal here for gays to adopt.” ### Calvin and I walked through the plaza, the puddles left over from yesterday already beginning to dry. I kept my head tilted downward so I wouldn’t have to make eye-contact with anyone. As we passed by an alley, we saw he crawl from the shadows. He wore an overcoat, long and seemingly made of black leather. This, coupled with his wide-brimmed hat made him look more like a character from a movie than an actual person. He walked towards us, a small grin on his face. “Hey, strangers.” Neither of us answered. “Strangers, I’ve got the solution to your problem.” “What problem?” “Why, your childless situation.” Before I could reply, the man tossed a small object at me, which I caught thanks to years of forced football practice. The man vanished back into the alley while my brain tried to process what had happened. I inspected the object in my hand to find it was a small, steel lockbox. Still shaken I placed it in my pocket. Calvin and I cancelled the rest of our shopping trip and bussed straight home. ### When we got home I decided to inspect the lockbox further. A padlock secured the box shut, and the lid had something written on it in what looked like permanent marker. “To open, please ask for Mr. Nachash at your convenience.” Wiggling the lock, I thought how dumb this was. Ask who? He didn’t leave a phone number or email anywhere on the box. After grabbing a pair of metal cutters, I snapped the lock off with ease. Inside the box sat what looked like a clump of silly putty and a small instruction booklet. Opening the booklet I found it contained one large pictogram of a finger pressing down on the putty. For some reason I decided to risk poisoning myself by touching the pink mass. It felt warm and moist as I pressed my finger into it. The mass jiggled the second I took my finger off of it. Varicose veins appeared on its surface, and the texture took on a visceral appearance. The goop grew to the size of a football, and what appeared to be a heart bubbled to the surface before disappearing back into the mass. Fear and disbelief gripped me as I stood, my own heart pounding against my chest. In a few moments the mass fell off the table, unidentifiable things squirming beneath the pink and purple surface. Disgust overtook me and I couldn’t look anymore. I turned my head away until I felt a small tug on my jacket. “Dad?” I to see a small, blond haired girl looking up at me. Her face and eyes reminded me of my own in a way that sent simultaneous waves of fear and joy up my spine. She giggled when she saw how startled I looked. “Daddy, you’re silly.” Looking down at her, I asked her name. “Carrie, daddy,” she said with a smile. ### It proved difficult to explain the girl to Calvin, even after showing him the instruction booklet and the box. He probably have thought I kidnapped someone’s kid at first. However, my daughter’s adamant defense of me seemed to keep him from calling the police. It must’ve been the eyes that won him over. When he got a good, hard look into them he saw my eyes. He stopped threatening to call the cops after that. The three of us embraced after that, finally a full family. ### Carrie was watching TV in the livingroom when I heard a loud knock on the door. When I opened it to answer, I almost choked on fear. The man in the overcoat stood there, looking pissed. “Going to cheat me out of payment, eh? I’ll fix you good, human being.” He slammed the door before I could say anything back. From the living room I heard Carrie crying. I sprinted into the room to find her arms and legs bloated in size to the point that they looked like nothing but tubes of fleshy fat. I took a step to approach her, but her stomach exploded into a shower of acid, gore, and half-digested food, forcing me back. Her tiny arms ripped open, worms or maggots or something crawling from the muscle and wriggling onto the floor into whatever dark corner they could. “Dad! It hurts!” My baby’s bright and loving face bloated in size as what looked like strawberry jam poured from her nose and tear ducts. Those eyes, my eyes, looked at me one last time before melting into a white broth that flowed all over her now massive body. The entirety of her being was soon reduced to a puddle of pinkish fluid. When Calvin came home he found me on the floor, weeping into the slime.
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Dec 28, 2014 02:09
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Tyrannosaurus posted:fumblemouse wins by default in a stupid benny brawl 
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Dec 28, 2014 04:29
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Brawl Vs. bluesquares in Order to Prove My Dominance of the Porcelain Throne Word Count: 886 Black Cherries Sarah heard the front door slam close like every night. She wanted to follow her father out tonight to see how far he had gotten. She held back that desire like every night and fell back asleep. Her father would always sneak out in the night. The first time Sarah heard the door close, she went out into the night to find her dad. She found him in a corner of the park, digging. She watched him dig for a couple minutes, wanting to ask what he was doing. She never did. She woke up that morning to her dad knocking on her bedroom door, with the smell of bacon in the house and a smile on her father’s face. Like every day. That morning there was no knock and no smile. The house smelt empty. She went downstairs to find her mother throwing another napkin on her growing pile. Sarah went up to her. “Dad’s gone.” Sarah hugged her mom. She wanted to tell her where her dad went, that he must’ve found what he was looking for. She knew her mom wouldn’t understand, call her silly, or just ignore her. But Sarah couldn’t sit by. She knew she could find her father. So that night, she snuck out into the garage and grabbed the muddy shovel. She carried it to the hole. Once there, she peered down into it. A wooden door was at the bottom of it. It looked like if it was opened, it would only lead to more dirt. Sarah opened it and a powerful vacuum sucked her through the door. She slid across gravel, cutting her skin. She pulled herself up and found herself in a strange place. The sky was dark, the stars and moon having disappeared. Trees with black leaves lined a path leading to a golden tower. Sarah steeled herself and walked towards the tower. As Sarah approached the tower, she noticed that the bottom of the tower was a cell. A shivering man laid in the corner of the cell, his clothes tattered. Her father. Sarah ran up to bars and shook them. “Dad!” she shouted, but her father didn’t move. A hand touched Sarah’s shoulder. She turned back slowly to see a person standing above her, wearing a leather cap and a white mask. The cold from his hands seeped through Sarah’s clothes, chilling her bones. “Do you want to free your father?” The man asked. Sarah nodded. “Then I want you to do something for me. Go into the fields. There will be trees filled with cherries. I want you to give me a basket full of cherries. Once you have them, come back to here and I will free your father.” Sarah looked at her father, cold and miserable. She wanted to save him. “Ok.” # Sarah dragged the basket through the black dirt. She had been picking cherries for what felt like hours, but the basket was filled halfway. Sarah reached for another cherry. Just before she placed the cherry into the basket, her stomach growled. She took the cherry and ate it. It was the most delicious cherry she had tasted, sweet and juicy. She reached into the basket and grabbed another cherry. She kept eating and eating. She couldn’t stop herself. As Sarah reached into the basket again, she found none. In her trance, she had emptied the basket. Sarah looked around, and found that all the trees had been picked clean. Sarah imagined her father in that cell, freezing and confused. She could see her mother, tears falling from her eyes. Sarah started crying and her tears landed on the dark ground. A hand moved across Sarah’s face, catching her tears. She opened up her eyes to see hundreds of white spirits floating in front of her. They moved around her, trying to cheer her up. She smiled at them, but the spirits kept dancing, knowing that Sarah was still sad. “What’s wrong?” the spirits whispered together. So Sarah told them about her father and what she had to do. The spirits took off into the forest. Each came back with a cherry, filling up the basket. Sarah grabbed the basket and the spirits led her out of the forest and back to the tower. The man stood in front of the cell and Sarah offered the basket to him. He looked at it, then at Sarah, and snapped his fingers. The bars rose out of the ground, releasing Sarah’s father. Sarah ran to him and hugged him. He shook his head, losing the fog that clouded his mind. He hugged Sarah back. Together, they took the path back to the door. They left that dark world behind. When they walked through that door, the sun shined on them and they walked back home. When they stepped into their home, Sarah’s mom rushed over to them and embraced them. Sarah’s dad looked at her and smiled. The next morning, Sarah woke up to a knock on her bedroom and the smell of her father’s cooking. She went downstairs to see her mother at the table, smiling at Sarah. Sarah sat down at the table, and her father sat down next to her. “So, where did you two go?” Sarah’s mom asked. “It’s a crazy story.” Her dad said.
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Dec 28, 2014 05:37
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Thunderbrawl CXXI - Results First my crits Blue Squares - Savvy Sara and The Markers (Book 23 of the Savvy Sara Series) A story and a series of footnotes. The story, aimed at the children, is a simple story about a girl chasing her markers around her room. The footnotes contain the tear-jerking revelation that the authors daughter has died. For a start the story was very nice and sweet and is actually a story. Logistically I think it is about the right length to be a board book, and there are heaps of really obvious places to put page breaks. This stuff is super important for a children's book. More important than the above point, in many ways. The personification of the markers is great, they would make lovely colorful pictures. The onomatopoeia is a great touch too, these are some of my favourite parts to read out loud to Ellie. The sentences also read well out loud, which is obviously really important. A good example of this is "They wiggle and giggle but Sara doesn’t let them go." The books I pull out of the shelves most often are the ones that are fun for me to read. However the "footnotes" sub-meta-text-plot thing doesn't sit well with me at all, especially when combined with a short video of your cute niece. If this were really the last in a series of much loved picture books this would have worked because it would be a sincere memorial to their daughter. If it were a clever meta-text where the footnotes commented on the story in a way that made it more engaging for adults it would work. In actuality it wasn't either of these things, it was just cheap, dishonest sentiment that trades on a cute video of your actual alive niece in a slightly scummy way. It would be far better without it. Broenheim - Black Cherries Sarah follows her Dad and rescues him from a dark fairy-tale world. My first impression, before I started reading at all, was "wow this is too long". My daughter is two- her books typically have 5-20 words per page. This would have long blocks of text before turning pages and she would probably get cranky. My second impression was that it was really dark and scary. I was very clear that the story should be nice, and that doesn't just mean a happy ending. An example of this is the man in the leather cap and white mask with cold hands. That's scary as gently caress. I will be all for exposing my daughter to stuff that gets a bit dark (like Roald Dahl) but this is way too much. Also the cherry symbolism is pretty hosed up too. Now that I've established two major problems that prevent this from fitting the prompt, does it work well for what it is? I generally like the tone, inappropriate for a two year old as it is. I get a bit of a "spirited away" vibe from it, a combination of cute and dangerous. I think this is hampered somewhat by a bit of a lack of clarity. As we are dealing with the strange I think there is a bit of a burden on the story to provide a precise description of what we are dealing with. This could be handwaved somewhat by saying that it will be illustrated but I don't think that's fair in a writing competition. An example of this is "As Sarah approached the tower, she noticed that the bottom of the tower was a cell." Very confusing. The story itself is perfectly reasonable for a two year old's book, even down to the arbitrary task to fulfill and the goofy ending that doesn't fit the tone. However I think that these would both be problematic for the age group that the book is more appropriate for. I have some problems with some of the prose as well, but I prefer to focus on big picture stuff for my crits. I'm not a great proof reader. Now Ellie's crits. Blue Squares - Savvy Sara and The Markers (Book 23 of the Savvy Sara Series)  Broenheim - Black Cherries  The Verdict Blue Squares wrote a cute, enjoyable and fun to read story with an unfortunate failed gimmick. Broenheim wrote an age inappropriate fairy tale, that was flawed regardless of a certain dark charm. Blue Squares is the winner, by unanimous judge decision. Well done! I actually thought this was great if you ignore the crappy footnotes.
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Dec 28, 2014 10:15
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Chairchucker posted:Yes. 407 words. Panda for the Masses “Miss Flores, these nice men from the press are here to chat with you.” Miss Flores chewed on her bamboo stalk, but did not respond. “I feel like you’re wasting our time, Mr Baer,” said one of the nice men from the press. “No wait, just let her finish her bamboo,” said Ranger Rocky Baer. Another of the men shook his head. “I should’ve known this tale of a talking panda was codswallop.” “No, they all talk!” said Rocky. “Rosa just makes the best conversation!” A woman, who was understandably upset at having been lumped into the collective of ‘these nice men from the press’, sniffed dismissively. “Utter nonsense. I can’t believe I came on this wild panda chase when I could be interviewing the gentleman who grew the pumpkin with the image of Mary J. Blige on it.” The ‘nice men’ and a few disgruntled women departed as one microphone, camera and clipboard wielding mass. “Way to leave me hanging, Rosa,” said Rocky. “A lady does not speak with her mouth full,” she said. “It’s difficult to find you at a time when you’re not eating,” said Rocky. “And we could’ve really used the extra publicity.” “Oh well, who wants to be treated like some kind of curiosity, anyway?” “Rosa, with all due respect, you’re a zoo exhibit.” “Your point is taken,” said Rosa. “You know, I overheard some time ago that I’m kind of built to be eating meat instead of this bamboo. Maybe if you hooked a sister up with something a little more substantial, my meals would last me a little longer and I wouldn’t have to be eating all day.” “Not sure how I’d justify that in the budget.” “Budget? Just chuck me a couple of rabbits, we have plenty of those guys.” Rocky scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Those guys are kind of jerks, as well.” “Right? So what do you say?” “We’ll trial it. But don’t tell anyone. And next time, you really must speak to the press when I bring them around.” “Speak to the press? But you just said not to tell anyone.” “What? No, just speak to them in general, not about that.” “Oh OK.” “Any preferences on which rabbits you’ll try for your first meal?” Rosa scratched her chin thoughtfully. “Not to be too petty, but Gerald and Doris called me fat the other day.” Rocky nodded, and went to fetch Rosa’s meal.
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Dec 28, 2014 12:45
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The Bog 1497 words Ranger Dan slipped the truck into four wheel drive just the wheels bogged down. Winter came late this year; or rather it had suffered a manic breakdown in early December. The permafrost had set in during a cold snap, but the quickly setting boreal sun wasn’t giving up its warmth just yet. The trails had turned to a half frozen slush; his daily patrols took twice as long because of it. He shifted down and blew a puff of cherrywood smoke out the open window. If he’d been younger, he’d have been tempted to gun it and send a roostertail flying out behind the truck, wearin’ away the mud till the tires connected with frozen earth. Being almost forty, he enjoyed the finesse required of a real mudder. The truck slid forward, slowly. He made sure to keep it on a diagonal so the back wheels missed the ruts left by the front. A few kilometres later the mud turned to gravel and then he was roaring towards the ranger station at sixty miles an hour. Early morning sun glinted off the tinted windows of a luxury SUV parked outside. “Who the hell is it now?” he muttered to no one in particular. His supervisor was off for the month and the park was nearly empty. He dreaded having to explain to another yuppie moron that no, he wasn’t in charge of cutting firewood and the nearest store was thirty clicks outside the park. He parked his truck and hurried inside, making drat sure not to make eye contact with whoever was in the SUV. No sooner had he sat down at his desk he heard a car door slam. “gently caress sakes,” he said, putting on a fake smile. Now he knew he wasn’t supposed to use the word tranny no more, and to be honest he wasn’t sure that this person was trying to fake a gender. A poorly dyed and impossibly coiffed toupee (or was it wiry hair?) framed a face smeared with cheap foundation. Bits of makeup were caked into her widow’s peak, her eyeliner had started to run and her fake lashes were peeling. She fished a king sized Marlboro out of her fur coat and smeared lipstick all over her face trying to light it. Her hands were shaking pretty bad. “You cold or something, lady?” Dan asked. “N..no,” she stammered, “I’ve had the worst night of my life, and I’m Rosa Flores!” she said. “I’m Dan. Nice to meet you.” “You don’t understand! I’m L.A’s foremost, premiere paranormal investigator! Do you know how many clients I’d lose if they saw me like this?” She finished the smoke and lit another one. “Y’here on rehab?” “No! of course not! I told you, I’m Rosa Flores! L.A’s…” he cut her off. “I got it. Paranormal whatever. Great. Fantastic.” “You really don’t get it do you? You go out there alone and you’re not worried?”she screeched. “’Bout what? Got a gun for ‘em bears ‘n coyotes. Got me four-by for the mud. Been out here since I was twenty two, ma’am.” “The bigfoot! The aliens! The bigfoot alien holograms! These forests are FULL of spirits and the unknown!” She gesticulated wildly, sending cigarette ash all over the office. “My client, I mean I was hired, well, you see…” she continued “See what?” Dan asked. “I’m looking for the spirit of a little girl. My client in L.A. wanted me to find his daughter and I’ve traced her spirit here. From L.A. Do you know what I saw last night? And the night before?” “The northern lights?” Dan asked. “BIGFOOT! I saw him with my own two eyes. He was down there!” she pointed out east towards the cedar bog, “he was there one moment and he disappeared the next. THEN I saw the northern lights.” “I’m sure ya did” Dan said. “THOSE TWO THINGS ARE RELATED! It’s like you’ve never even read Joan Ocean!” she shrieked, exasperated. “Alright, tell ya what lady, how ‘bout I fill out this here Park Report Form and I’ll go have a look-see tomorrow morning?” She hovered over him as he filled out the sheet, writing Bigfoot Hologram – Possible UFO in the Complaints field and Paranormal Investigation in the Action Taken field. As a final courtesy he wrote down her number. He looked her straight in the eye and said “Lady, if I don’t call ya by noon tomorrow it means ‘em aliens or bigfoots or what have you have taken me and I want ya to call the RCMP.” She nodded and turned to leave, dropping a business card on the table. “La Florenzi Pasta Shoppe” Dan read aloud “FLIP IT OVER!” she yelled from the door On the back, in crayon, was written ROSA FLORES PANORONAL INVESTUGATOR, L.A., LOS ANGELES. ### The first few rays of sunlight cut through the pea soup fog and lit up the cedar’s frosted branches. Where most would see bony fingers grasping at a barren sky, Dan saw tranquility and the promise of spring leaves. He crouched down low, looking for prints in the snow. He wasn’t much for believing in Sasquatch but he knew full well that other critters loved the bog near as much as he did. Grouse and deer and rabbits had all been out last night, meandering between the trees. “Welp, if ‘em bigfoots are here least they don’t scare ‘em little buggers,” Dan said to no one in particular. He followed the grouse tracks until his truck’s headlights had vanished in the fog. At least he could use this hike to keep an eye out for poachers. The trail ended in a freshly formed drift. Dan reached into his parka for a smoke. Something rustled in the bush. He stood stock still. Seconds or maybe minutes passed before Dan realized the bog was deathly silent. Not even the crows were out today. Something must have spooked ‘em. He realized he was letting that Rose lady get to him, so he lit the smoke and breathed in real deep. Something rustled again, louder and closer. Coloured lights flashed somewhere deep in the forest. Before he knew it he was off running. It was only when his boot caught a stray branch and sent him sprawling into the snow did he stop. He lay there for a few moments, letting the dampness and the sulphur bog-smell wash over him. He felt light headed, probably from the running. “I gotta quit smokin’ ” he said, realizing his smoke had gone out. The lights started up again. Blues and reds and yellows dancing between the tree trunks. He sat with his mouth agape. They were coming closer. He swore he heard deep panting and heavy footfalls. He didn’t feel the fear this time, instead a light-headed giddiness. If the bigfoots was gonna get ‘im, so be it. He brought the lighter up to the smoke and flicked it. The world exploded in a flash of light. His body was burning, paralyzed with fear and alien rays. He could hear himself screaming. The alien bigfoots was beamin’ him up. His whole body shook. One name ran through his mind before he passed out: Rosa Flores. ### When he awoke the world was a shimmering paradise. Blue ocean water and endless beaches with sand white as driven snow. He broke the surface of this dream-ocean and flicked his dolphin tail. He was a merman now. He smiled as he watched his iridescent scales glowing in the purple sun. Everything he touched began to glow. ### Rosa watched the clock, holding her phone in one hand. She had already dialled the first two numbers, and her finger hovered over the last digit. The clock flashed noon, she mashed the button, already hyperventilating. ### The RCMP cruiser left the bog just as soon as it had pulled up. The fire crews were on their way, geared up for a methane fuelled forest fire. Rosa parked her SUV just off the access road, waiting to talk to the chief. She managed to flag him down when he was taking a piss in the woods. “Officer! Officer! If you find bigfoot’s body I need to take a hair sample. It’s absolutely vital for my investigation!” The chief sighed. “Lady, I’m not gonna tell you to get the hell outta here, but you should. This bog’s been offgassin’ methane worse than a borehole. You spend any time here?” Rosa nodded. “You familiar with what a low oxygen environment does to the human mind? Y’start seein’ things. Hearin’ things. Doin’ crazy things like running buck-rear end naked through the forest and settin’ things on fire like our friend the ranger did.” “Thank you sir, I’m sorry to take up your time,” she said. The fire chief nodded and walked back to the blaze. Rosa furiously scrawled notes into her journal. Official Report: Alien bigfoot hologram abduction, possible anal probing. Evidence destroyed; Suspect government conspiracy. UFO/spirit interference, investigation results inconclusive.
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Dec 28, 2014 15:37
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Six hours before submissions close!
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Dec 29, 2014 00:01
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