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Over 9 million words. Over 7000 stories. Over 700 authors. This is Thunderdome.  Thunderdome 2012: FYI, I do take big dumps, holla. Thunderdome 2013: If this were any other thread we'd all be banned by now Thunderdome 2014teen: Stories from the Abonend Bunker Thunderdome 2015teen: Weekly Stories with Positive People Thunderdome 2016teen: Fast Writing, Bad Writing Thunderdome 2017teen: Prose and Cons Thunderdome 2018teen: Abonen Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here Thunderdome 2019teen: Writing Our Wrongs  CLICK HERE FOR CURRENT PROMPT (and tell Sitting Here or Crabrock if this link is not working)Join us. Thunderdome is a community of fiction writers. It’s also a bloody, no-holds-barred weekly flash fiction contest. Every week brings a different prompt, new judges, a fresh opportunity to prove your mettle against other writers. Get in. Weekly prompts are linked at the top of this post. The prompt post contains a signup deadline, a submission deadline, a maximum word count, and a writing prompt. Sign up by the deadline indicated in the prompt post. Submit your story by the deadline indicated in the prompt post. Follow the instructions in the prompt post. Most weeks, posting a simple ‘in’ is enough to indicate your participation. Read the prompt post to find out if you need to do anything else to sign up. Judge. From our most ancient texts: quote:Ius iudicis: judge’s right, judge’s responsibility, judge’s law. quote:Three shall be the number of judges, and the number of judges shall be three. First time judges: click here. The winner of the current week judges the next week. This boss judge chooses the prompt, word count, and deadlines. After submissions close, the boss judge and their co-judges select a winner, loser, and any honorable or dishonorable mentions. It is the winner’s responsibility to recruit two co-judges. The winner should also be prepared to offer some sort of critical feedback to the writers who submitted stories. At minimum, the boss judge should make three posts: A post containing the prompt, a post containing the results, and a post containing their critiques. Click here for a comprehensive post on critique, including general critique guidelines. Thunderdome crits can be raucous, irreverent, and hyperbolic, but they should still be helpful. And be judged. If you post a story, you may win or lose. Winners become judges, losers get a sweet avatar:  Your story stands a better chance of doing well if it’s formatted correctly. Click here for a formatting guide. As a participant, you will most likely receive critical feedback on your story. Don’t respond to critiques in this thread (a simple “Thank you for the crit” is okay). If you want to talk about critiques, skip to the bottom of this post for a list of resources. Act as you see fit, and face the consequences. There are things you could do to make your time here more effective. Reading the following list is one of those things.
Kayfabe. quote:Kayfabe /ˈkeɪfeɪb/ is the portrayal of staged events within the industry as "real" or "true," specifically the portrayal of competition, rivalries, and relationships between participants as being genuine and not of a staged or pre-determined nature. Kayfabe has also evolved to become a code word of sorts for maintaining this "reality" within the realm of the general public From Wikipedia Kayfabe is the showmanship that makes Thunderdome different from other, similar contests. Kayfabe gives participants the opportunity to show a little swagger, or act out grudges and rivalries within the arena of words. Kayfabe is optional, and it’s meant to be fun, not abusive. Come find out what you’re made of, you unblooded weenies. Glossary of terms and abbreviations.
HM - Honorable mention; a story that was in consideration for the win, or had some notable positive quality. DM - Dishonorable mention; a story that was in consideration for the loss, or had some notable negative quality. DQ - Disqualification; a disqualified story. Stories that were submitted before judgment, but after submissions close. Also includes stories that went over word count and stories that were edited after posting. Disqualified stories can’t win, but they can lose, which is better than failure. See also: Redemption. Flashrule - A sub-prompt given by the judges as part of the main weekly prompt, often serving as an additional challenge or piece of inspiration. Hellrule - A particularly unfair flashrule, requested at one’s own risk. Not every judge will issue hellrules. Redemption - A disqualified story submitted after judgment has been posted. Better than failure. Toxx - Adding  to your signup post indicates that you will forfeit your forums account if you fail to submit. Banned accounts may be unbanned at the owner’s expense. FJGJ - Fast Judging, Good Judging. A thing impatient morons begin shouting the moment submissions close. Brawl - A duel between two or more writers. Brawls are separate from the weekly prompt. See On Brawling by Sebmojo for a detailed explanation. The Archive - A repository of all Thunderdome stories, faithfully maintained by crabrock and Kaishai for several years. Losertar - Another name for the free avatar given to losers of the weekly contest  Quick resources. The Thunderdome Archive. Account required to view stories. You must have submitted at least one story to the weekly contest to gain access. Archive features include:
The fiction advice thread. A good place to discuss the critiques you receive in Thunderdome, and procrastinate by writing about writing (instead of writing). Discord invites available upon request. PM me, or let us know how we can contact you. Alternatively, join #Thunderdome on SynIRC. For forums-related concerns, contact Sebmojo. Sitting Here fucked around with this message at 05:34 on Nov 7, 2020 |
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Jan 1, 2020 20:03
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On Brawling, by Sebmojo: brawling what so someone said something mean and your bottom lip is doing that quivery thing and you feel like you can't go a single second more without punching a motherfucker? thunderdome has just the thing. you can't fight here it's the Thunderdome when two people hate each other very much, and one of them is you, you get to slap down a challenge. make it big, make it brassy; you're slapping your sex bits down on the bar, try and make 'em bounce a little. help someone's slapped me with something help accepting brawl challenges isn't required, but if you like to sling the poo poo around (and you should) then failing to back up your bad words with good ones will be remembered. brawl stories are good, being able to beat someone you're mad at is better. how does it work? once you've thrown down a challenge, and had it accepted, a brawl judge will step up just like that weird bartender in The Shining. they'll give you a prompt, a word count and a deadline. they'll also, and this is real important, state the this means if you fail to submit by the deadline then you get banned. the judge doesn't need to give you an extension.what do you mean banned brawl toxxes are obligatory. if you're actually a literal secret agent and you've just discovered you're parachuting into Syria in two hours time then get on irc, snivel at your judge and maybe they'll remove the from the prompt, but expect that to be a one-time mercy if you gently caress it up.anything else? don't challenge anyone until you've done a few rounds, good grudges take time to fester, don't step up to judge a brawl unless you've at least got an HM or the participants have asked you to, and declining a random drive-by brawl is more acceptable than one with a grudge behind it. this place runs on words, and hatred, and you gotta fuel the fire. brawl judges, don't grab brawls if you don't have a prompt ready and don't be dicks; what matters is whose story is best, don't gently caress around. is that it yes, fight well you horrible monsters sebmojo fucked around with this message at 20:30 on Jan 1, 2020 |
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Jan 1, 2020 20:03
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Assembled for Your Convenience: The Thunderdome Archive! Once upon a time, two Thunderdome veterans who shared a love of statistics and a touch of OCD conceived of the greatest project ever imagined: the Thunderdome Archive, where everyone's literary shame could be displayed forever. crabrock bought a domain and coded his visions into reality. Kaishai assisted him by trawling the threads for prompts, stories, and relevant .gifs. To this day, they fight to preserve Thunderdome's coprophilic heritage. The Archive's purpose is to store the millions of words written for TD to date. If you want to make use of it to the fullest degree (which includes reading the stories), you'll need an account, and you can request one through the link at the top left of the index. Note that accounts are open to participants only! If you're desperate to read about Vorpal Drones and vambraces at sea without searching the threads, you must first shed blood. We have graphs!  We have lists and rankings!   We have mad libs!  (Please read "Rural Rentboys," Thunderdome's most beloved classic, to understand 2020ty and to reach true spiritual enlightenment.) And much, much more! Visit the Thunderdome Archive today! Kaishai fucked around with this message at 20:06 on Jan 1, 2020 |
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Jan 1, 2020 20:03
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Thunderbrawls of 2020pre:Thunderbrawl 320 by SlipUp: Entenzahn vs. Sitting Here Round 1 Entenzahn Thunderbrawl 321 by Anomalous Blowout: cptn_dr vs. SurreptitiousMuffin vs. sebmojo vs. Captain_Person Round 1 cptn_dr Thunderbrawl 322 by Anomalous Amalgam: Flesnolk vs. Azza Bamboo Round 1 Flesnolk Thunderbrawl 323 by sebmojo: steeltoedsneakers vs. Carl Killer Miller Round 1 steeltoedsneakers Thunderbrawl 324 by Antivehicular: cptn_dr vs. arbitraryfairy Round 1 Pending Thunderbrawl 325 by Chili: SlipUp vs. Anomalous Amalgam Round 1 Anomalous Amalgam Thunderbrawl 326 by flerp: Saucy_Rodent vs. AstronautCharlie Round 1 Saucy_Rodent Thunderbrawl 327 by Flesnolk: Anomalous Amalgam vs. SlipUp Round 1 SlipUp Kaishai fucked around with this message at 17:18 on Mar 23, 2020 |
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Jan 1, 2020 20:04
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Happy new year Thunderdome. Here is a reading of The Merman's Package, by Kaishai  https://drive.google.com/file/d/1NlIeQiYPIgc62ZvKrT1o0r_kM92EgTMt/view?usp=drivesdk
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Jan 1, 2020 21:57
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Right, let's get this out of the way.
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Jan 1, 2020 22:30
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NEW YEAR NEW THREAD NEW PROMPT LET'S GO Thunderdome CCCLXXXVII: Losers Gotta Stay Positive  Many moons ago, back in Week 70, Jeza gave the thread a song week with a difference: a week with a single song at its heart, where each prompt was a single line. This week is going to work the same way. Jeza chose a song from Nobel semi-laureate Bob Dylan; I'm going classier and more relevant to the modern condition. This week, your prompt will be a line of your (or my) choice from Beck's "Loser": quote:In the time of chimpanzees, I was a monkey When you sign up, pick a line or ask me to pick one for you. Each line can only be picked once; if we somehow get more signups than we have lines, I'll double up, but for now, grab it or lose it. To make this a little more fun, and because it's the new year and we need to start this with a positive jam, I have one more rule for you: your story this week should have a happy, hopeful, or otherwise positive ending. Bad things can happen, but there should be a light at the end of the tunnel. Please do not be ironic or otherwise cute about this. Just write happy. I know you can do it. No erotica, fanfiction, topical politics/political screeds, Google Docs, archive-breaking coding, or dick pics. Word Count: 1500 Words Signups Close: Friday, January 3rd, 11:59 PM Pacific Submissions Close: Sunday, January 5th, 11:59 PM Pacific Judges: Antivehicular Flesnolk maybe YOUUUUU? Contenders: 1. flerp -- A slab of turkey-neck and it's hanging from a pigeon wing2. Thranguy -- Kill the headlights and put it in neutral 3. crimea -- I'm a loser, baby, so why don't you kill me? 4. Yoruichi -- With the plastic eyeballs, spray-paint the vegetables 5. Doctor Eckhart -- (Drive-by body pierce) 6. Anomalous Amalgam -- Butane in my veins and I'm out to cut the junkie7. Carl Killer Miller -- Got a couple of couches, sleep on the loveseat 8. Mrenda -- In the time of chimpanzees, I was a monkey 9. magic cactus -- (Get crazy with the cheese whiz) 10. Something Else -- The forces of evil in a bozo nightmare 11. Sham bam bamina! -- So shave your face with some mace in the dark 12. selaphiel -- 'Cause one's got a weasel and the other's got a flag 13. SlipUp -- Saving all your food stamps and burning down the trailer park 14. Ironic Twist -- Yo, cut it 15. Chainmail Onesie -- Stock car flaming with the loser in the cruise control 16. Barnaby Profane -- About a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt 17. Pththya-lyi -- Baby's in Reno with the vitamin D 18. Chairchucker -- You get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve 19. Azza Bamboo -- And my time is a piece of wax falling on a termite 20. a friendly penguin -- Who's choking on the splinters Antivehicular fucked around with this message at 08:52 on Jan 4, 2020 |
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Jan 1, 2020 22:36
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in give me line
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Jan 1, 2020 22:39
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flerp posted:in give me line A slab of turkey-neck and it's hanging from a pigeon wing
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Jan 1, 2020 22:44
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Kill the headlights and put it in neutral.
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Jan 1, 2020 22:48
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Let's cut to the quick. In with 'I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?'
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Jan 1, 2020 22:52
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With the plastic eyeballs, spray-paint the vegetables
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Jan 1, 2020 22:53
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I’m in: (Drive-by body pierce)
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Jan 1, 2020 22:56
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I'm in
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Jan 1, 2020 23:00
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I'm in, gimme a line.
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Jan 1, 2020 23:03
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In In the time of chimpanzees, I was a monkey
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Jan 1, 2020 23:05
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My new year's resolution is to write more, so IN and I'd like to be given a line please!
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Jan 1, 2020 23:15
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IN The forces of evil in a bozo nightmare
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Jan 1, 2020 23:17
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I don't really have anything in the tank but want to participate in the first week, so I'll help judge.
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Jan 2, 2020 01:22
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So shave your face with some mace in the dark.
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Jan 2, 2020 02:14
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In. 'Cause one's got a weasel and the other's got a flag
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Jan 2, 2020 02:46
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in Saving all your food stamps and burning down the trailer park
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Jan 2, 2020 02:47
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Anomalous Amalgam posted:
Butane in my veins and I'm out to cut the junkie Carl Killer Miller posted:I'm in, gimme a line. Got a couple of couches, sleep on the loveseat magic cactus posted:My new year's resolution is to write more, so IN and I'd like to be given a line please! (Get crazy with the cheese whiz)
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Jan 2, 2020 03:40
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in with "Yo, cut it"
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Jan 2, 2020 03:53
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In with Stock car flaming with the loser in the cruise control
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Jan 2, 2020 05:53
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In with About a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt .
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Jan 2, 2020 20:30
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One line, please!
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Jan 2, 2020 23:17
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Pththya-lyi posted:One line, please! Baby's in Reno with the vitamin D
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Jan 3, 2020 11:19
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in give it to me
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Jan 3, 2020 14:20
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Late entry, but I've never really written anything before and someone said "you should try this thunderdome thing." As the Tory said to his business associate: give me a line.
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Jan 3, 2020 16:10
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in accordance with my ancient vow, here are crits for teh first of the last two weeks I failed: Thunderdome presents: Two Guys and a Pencil, a play by Entenzahn This is what we might characterise as a slab of chairchucker words, and i like those when they’re well done - as an adjunct professor in applied chuckerology i can advise that key elements of good chuckerwords are a mostly light tone, low affect protags, enjoyably weird story elements, a loose attitude to the existence/importance of the fourth wall, and (crucially) knowing when to get out of the story and hit post. This hits all those really well and i enjoyed the heck out of it on first reading; but didn’t like the toss off ending for all that’s also a key part of the form. It also tries maybe a bit too hard with images like the five meaty hand tentacles. However it was good, and funny, and i didn’t feel angry after reading it. Byra, by Haven Hmm, i was sort of prepped to yell at you for the intensely mundane he said then she said then he picked up the thing opener, but you know what? It actually works with the story, it’s about a couple making an ikea dresser which is (lol) notoriously difficult (chortle) i mean airline food, and the portions so small, &c. It’s a hackneyed bit but that makes the solid details, reasonably well chosen words and recognisable human interactions important, you’re not just leaning on the cliche gag. The vital sprinkle of actual interest comes from the strange helpline lady, and that’s also well done - i like how there’s really zero bizarre occult nonsense, it just needs her wise quasi-swedish words, but it’s still lightly strange. You maybe missed a trick in the name of the drawers - byra just means chest of drawers, and i’d probably have put another sprinkle of oddness in there for those with a willingness to google search it. Solid workmanlike piece though, all the bits fit together. Growing Apart, by lofi These are competent social realist addiction intervention words, though not therefore particularly interesting or intriguing; we’ve all seen this movie. The twist at the end is nice enough, though unheralded; it’s more fun if she’s addicted too, not fun at all if she’s just taking it away from him (bc if so why not do that before?) but neither option is really supported so it falls flat. This is called robbing story peter to pay dumb twist ending paul, and is generally bad, and that leads me to the actual crippling flaw with this story: wtf does an alien artefact look like? Smell like? Does it talk? Squeak when you squeeze it? How do you investigate it? What is the actual thing that’s being complained about here? Without that all we have is a booze/drugs substitute, and that’s well enough done on a technical level but it’s also super dull. Random Access, by jon Joe This grabs me from the first line, and weaves some fairly heady concepts into a well-drawn two-nerds-in-a-basement chitchat scene. That said, it’s all so abstract that the end is a flop. The whole story is a blinking cursor after the prompt DO_INTERESTING_STUFF.EXE and that’s disappointing. Always Winter Break, But Never Christmas, by anti-v This is the first one that actually ties its weirdness to something metaphorical and vaguely interesting, and I love the precisely odd details like the OH OH OH depression santa. Because of this there are some actual stakes here, and it’s satisfying seeing the protag turn a wrongness into a small and tatty rightness by sheer force of will. Not sure i love the ending line, it’s fine, it’s adequate, but with a few slightly better words (maybe replicating the fractal reference from before?) this would soar; as is it’s just really good. The Bet, by thranguy A heady brew of precisely deployed and very Borgesian phrasing and intricately imagined oddness, with beautiful detailing that doesn’t quiiiiite pay off its body swap ending twist, i think? The bland title doesn’t help - i think the title is a good place to put a time bomb that goes off when you finish the story, so the reader can realise the twist was staring them in the face the whole time. (edit: thrangles has pointed out that Bet is the second letter of the hebrew alphabet, and the Aleph is a super famous borges story so disregard this - i'm a dumbass and that's a great title) There’s also the issue of the nameless interlocutor - where/who/when are they? Don’t know, don’t care, and that makes the whole thing fall flatter than it should given the considerable talent on display. Fly The Coop by Slipup I read this as fly the co-op and was primed for a splendidly weird tale of preparing a fruit and vegetable purchasing consortium for flight, but you know what your v solid first para set me right. The story takes a slow but inexorable downward parabola from then on, regrettably, with our bikie leader doing a bunch of pointless cartoony stuff and dying stupidly, then the story ending with the nameless antagonist flying to the moon for reasons that are both unclear and dumb. Last Call, by carl killer miller This is a strong piece, and is an instructive comparison with lofi’s similarly addiction focused yarn - this works and that didn’t, because of the details, which are both vivid and authentic. I raised an eyebrow at the literally trapped in a bottle bit, bc come the gently caress on my man there are metaphors and then there are achingly on the nose metaphor boops and that’s for sure the latter. I liked the personification of the bottle via the label and its sneakily magic realist ability to be always just within reach though, and the ending where he fails, is the hard and right choice for the story i think. The Distance Between Atoms, by flerp Hell yeah MAGIC REALIST GAP STORY GOGOGO i honestly think this is a good practice at this length, just flop out whatever the story is about, bammo just lay it on the table in a solid dgaf manner. That said, there’s almost nothing else in this story so it had better be good. It is, and your words and images are very shiny, but i do think it’s lacking some progress through the course of its very good words that could make it hang together for me. E.g. the gap is there at the end, but they’re touching, but before they were touching and it wasn’t? The story points at a thing and keeps pointing at it, and it’s an interesting thing, but if it did more than point i’d like it more. The Ghost Box, by quoproquid Nice opener, and a delightful tonal choice with the bedsheet. I also really like your dialogue - oblique, awkward - and the almost but not quite on-the-nose metaphor of the emotions kept in a little box (it works because the box already has a purpose, so the metaphor is laid on top). I don’t think the ending lands though; i got some good advice about writing this kind of strong emotion, which is to be dangerous and surprising. Sobbing is very much the google “pictures of sad people” choice. Challenge yourself, and then you have a strong image to end a fairly strong story. A Wake in a Forest, by black gryphon EhhhHHHhh, this really doesn’t land for me at all. So there’s a guy in a clearing, and he gives our protag the ability to be a super paramedic, and…? I mean seriously, so what? Words are a few shades below good (a quiet broken by the machines of men is legitimately a Bad Line) and then we get to the stopping point and there’s no more reading and my shoulders are caught mid-shrug PLAN Ω, by magic cactus Just a personal note, the only person who can write ‘permitted herself a small smile’ and not have me permit myself a thunderous frown was frank herbert and he dead, magic cactus, he dead. Also hot drat this it a flabby first four paras that you have inexplicably chosen to give me with only a single carriage return. If i was minded that way i’d be rollin’ my eyes at the fearsome sluttiness of our protag and her devilish desire for reproductive autonomy, but eh, write what you write imo just make it good. Is this good? It’s florid, to the point of being overwritten, (the slide as uterus is sort of clever in an overheated kind of way) but i think the overall structure is fairly solid and I like the ending. See above for interesting ways to convey cliches though - i love you is fiiiiine i guess but is there another place you could have gone? Still, this is p solid, i guess for all i itch to scissor away a few adjectives. Tesseract, by sephiroth ira Oof that’s a clunky opener, just packed full of names and stuff that do you know what i don’t really care about. Nothing actually then goes on to happen apart from Lookin at the Weird Box and Not Really Givin a poo poo about it. This isn’t a story, it’s a scene, and a fairly dull one - an audacious move but not necessarily a wise one. Love & Sacrifice, by anom amalg Nice little thunderdome metaphor in the opening there i’m sure u will agree. I actually really like your opener, its vivid and mystical, with a sense of an unfamiliar fairy tale, and the transition to flashback is ok too - i feel oriented! However writing ‘He was ready to relive the memories when his bloodlust was cut short as he felt a gentle familiar touch on his shoulder.’ is at least one subclause too many - it’s always worth splitting those into multiple sentences if they feel clunky. The second half i like less, not least because killing the protag is a risky move that you haven’t really got the chops for (dude pulls out his own heart? really?) and the end falls super flat because we don’t actually know or really care about the kid who survived, and sacrifice is a vague Capitalised Concept that will never be as effective as a strong image or relationship. sebmojo fucked around with this message at 22:07 on Jan 3, 2020 |
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Jan 3, 2020 21:53
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In Who's choking on the splinter.
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Jan 3, 2020 21:54
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Unfulfilled Crit Exchange! Thunderdome presents: Two Guys and a Pencil, a play by Entenzahn I believe another TD goon commented on this, but the opening dialogue felt a bit awkward. I don’t think it’s unnecessary, but it was a weird place to start, like the conversation had already been going and you walked in at a strange part of it that makes things more confusing than clear. I’d either preface the conversation with that explanatory follow up, start the conversation earlier or remove it altogether and just jump to the explanation. Could just be me /shrug. The narrator has a distinct voice that almost seems like it’s one of these guys, or another fool succumbed to the pencil. At times the narrator pulls me away from the story with character judgments, insights and analysis that feels like it should be coming from the character’s themselves, but is clearly a cheeky observer’s? It’s a deliberate move on your part, and it’s not at all bad, but I feel like the narrator’s voice shifts from personal to more explanatory and story like. It’s like watching found footage of shmucks loving up, and the person showing it to you is also giving you a funny, but low-key terrifying play by play. quote:He looked at his hand, dumbfounded. His five meaty hand tentacles looked back at him, equally confused. They had done everything their master had told them to. And yet, the pencil was missing from betwixt them. quote:There was silence between them. Silence, and a pencil. Silence, a pencil, and stale, musty air ripe with the exhausted breaths from one-hundred-and-fourteen failures. Come to think of it, maybe there were even more things between them, but let’s move on for now. It was ten in the evening. Time flies when you’re having fun. All in all, I don’t know what I’m doing when I’m critting, but I enjoyed this story. I feel like there is the occasional clash of competing tones, but what do I know? I probably would have given this an HM because it speaks to stuff that I like personally and I think was fairly competently arranged, written and told. Anomalous Amalgam fucked around with this message at 22:45 on Jan 3, 2020 |
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Jan 3, 2020 22:43
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A crit of Trash Baby by anatomi, a redemption story for week 349. There are some cool ideas in this but they're all over the place, and nothing really comes together. We've got Benny's relationship with Karen his social worker, with his (deceased?) mother, his alcoholism and the fact he steals from his neighbours... Any of these could have been the focus of the story in their own right, but because there is too much in here they end up feeling like unresolved sub-plots. The thing the story is actually about - the vomit-egg or whatever it is - doesn't even show up until a third of the way through. Fortunately, things then start to get super interesting, because then Karen discovers the egg and then-- Oh, then the story just stops. I was genuinely disappointed by the ending, because I really wanted to know what the heck this egg thing was, and how Benny and Karen were going to resolve their strange and strained relationship. Should you feel inclined to do another version of this, I reckon delete everything before "Benny gripped the toilet rim, feeling like his eyes were going to burst from the sisyphean dry heave," and focus on what the egg means for him, and for Karen.
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Jan 4, 2020 02:48
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Chairchucker posted:in You get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve Azza Bamboo posted:Late entry, but I've never really written anything before and someone said "you should try this thunderdome thing." And my time is a piece of wax falling on a termite And with that, Signups are closed.
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Jan 4, 2020 08:52
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Line: "In the time of chimpanzees, I was a monkey" Amateur Geology 1,496 Words Ever since I was nine I've hated chimpanzees. loving despised them. It happened after our class on evolution. I was in the yard, and all I was doing—standing on my own—was finding some peace bashing rocks together. The night before, the awful, free sports channel we received showed European rock climbing. It didn’t impress me. What did impress me was the grit, or rock-sand, they used on their hands. What I wanted, by bashing my two stones together, was to have dust like the climbers used; to stop the sweat on my always dewy, moist palms. I was happy, making dust, bashing rocks, until Charlie Dunstable, in his huge, already-broken voice yelled, "Look at Marty! He's evolved and discovered tools like the chimpanzees!" Of course everyone laughed. Chimpanzees were the topical event, and when the topical event met the everlasting humour of my torment the class erupted into a riotous uproar, all at my expense. I know, I know, sticks and stones and all that, and I was used to harsh words, but it was from that point onwards stones were occasionally hurled at my head. That left a mark. I should hate Charlie Dunstable, maybe, but he’s a doctor now, with a beautiful philosophy professor wife and a country home in the mountains, and I work unplugging hair from college dormitory drains. It’s easier, maybe healthier, to ignore Mr. Successful and direct my ire at something immaterial: those tool using chimpanzees, who, for some reason—a reason beyond me—have just discovered fire. Which brings me to my protest at the zoo. The pyromaniac chimps were rescued after hunting drove them out of their reserve, and much to everyone’s surprise, when at the wildlife park, they showed the onlooking zoologists they could make fire with dried kindling and flint. They were even starting to cook their food. Learning about this changed something in me; I no longer hated chimpanzees. In much the same way I felt sorrow for nine year old me I feared for those chimps. I guess you could say their fire lit a fire in me. “Stop! Go back!” was my first protest sign. “Monkeys! No! Stop!” was my second, with one of those ‘No-Smoking’ designs but with a fire instead of a cigarette. It was then someone pointed out they weren’t monkeys, but apes. “It’s a mistake! Ignore evolution! Stop developing, you drat dirty apes!” was my third sign, and that got me noticed. First, by a guy called Stevie Grunge—a stoner, I’ll admit—but he was happy to share so I was fine with him. He was also good looking (and possibly a dealer) so he brought in a few college students. My movement was gaining momentum. We were going to save the chimps, and maybe even ourselves. It was during one of our think-ins—as we all got together to discuss the ways higher level thought was a hindrance—that a sound-tech, covering the zoo’s discovery for a local news agency, recorded the first, and only, surviving document of our new approach for the world. I still remember the tech explaining to the newscaster we could be a side topic for her coverage. “They think this discovery will bring human plights and strife to the monkeys! Eventually, I guess. I’ve got it all on tape!” He might have called us ‘kooks,’ but I interrupted. I pointed out they were actually apes, not monkeys. But this was my problem; I still couldn’t escape the higher level need of wanting to be correct, and more, to prove to people I am correct. I explained this to them, what I’d just done, and how we all needed to halt our domination desires. How we needed to save the apes from their coming torment, and just as much people too. We weren’t featured on the news channel but he did sell the interview to the college radio station. That was the next step for my movement: Ms. Ellie Downton-Dunstable, a very affable woman, and coincidentally Charlie Dunstable’s beautiful wife, was listening in her campus office. Something must have clicked for her, because soon, she and a few grad students were down at the zoo with video cameras and digital recorders documenting every movement from the chimps; disrupting the already frantic zoologists. I found this out when one of my student campaigners talked to her BFF, a philosophy grad, over one of Stevie Grunge’s pre-rolled wonders. “Heidegger, you see!” she said. I didn’t see. “He said things are either available for our use, or we have to figure out their use. It’s a part of ‘Being.’” I still didn’t see. “As Being-creatures we have the ability to contemplate our existence and so others’ existence; everyone’s, our own, animals’, even objects’ existence. We think now the monkeys have fire, soon they might begin to wonder about their, and everything’s, place in the world!” This scared me. Whether I was pulling three foot congealed clumps of shampoo ridden hair from drains, or standing in that schoolyard smashing rocks—soon to have them flung at me—I was aware of my place in the world. And by this point I was feeling more and more like those chimps; watched and at the centre of something I couldn’t quite comprehend, let alone direct. I wanted peace for them. By then our protests had grown to ten, fifteen, sometimes twenty people. I wondered if the zoologists would discover more studying me than the fire-making apes, who, of course, drew more protestors, mainly from animal rights groups. They always had a bigger crowd than us, and less than putting purpose to humanity and chimp-kind’s place in the world they wanted humanity to stop. Plain outright stop. I could kind of see their point, except then we’d be without hot water, restaurants, and dedicated beer-fridges, so I’m not sure I fully accepted their grievances. Eventually, after a few days, on a cool dry morning, the inevitable happened. I’d noticed quiet talking among new people—better dressed and generally more showered—moving through the animal rights groups. After a while those solid looking people slowly disappeared. That’s when the crusties stormed the zoo gates. The few security guards did what they could. My group ran the other direction, but I stood my ground—or more than stood my ground—ran between the zoo and the violent protestors. I feared for my chimp-friends. I feared for the violence they might see, frightening them, corrupting them. Of course, the police came. The very angry, very bash-friendly police. They wanted to break up my protest along with the animal rights groups. That’s when my nemesis’s wife, Ellie Downton-Dunstable, stepped in for us. “He has a point,” she said. “He should be allowed make it.” “I’m sorry, Miss, who are you? Are you with the zoo?” the cop asked. “I’m lead philosopher of the Apes and Friends Philosophy Team.” “Sure...” the cop said. “My point is there’s something very valuable, according to Heidegger—” at this I nodded like I knew all about him, “—with being aware of the tools we use in the world.” The cop looked scared. “I’m sure you’re familiar with Ready-At-Hand and Present-At-Hand, and how these chimpanzees may be discovering the core destabilising but unifying issues of higher level thinking with advanced creativity such as fire!” The cop nodded. His grip on his riot baton tightened. “They may very well have encountered Being!” His eyes darted towards his sergeant. “Actual Dasein in something other than humans!” continued Ellie Downton-Dunstable, now in full flow. The cop retreated to his training. “He can’t be here!” he said, as he poked me right in the chest. “He’s coming with me,” Ellie said, ignoring the cop, waving her zoo pass, leading me through the gates. Eventually we were standing before the chimps’ enclosure. I hadn’t actually seen them in person before. They looked absolutely inconsequential. “They’ve stopped making fire,” she said. A still quiet seemed to empty the world around us. Even the enclosure was silent, as though the chimps were cowed. “They’re probably embarrassed,” I said. "You do something new, then everyone gawps at you? I’d stop doing it too.” “We’ve found a reserve that can accommodate them. The zoologists tell me they need peace and isolation to continue what they’ve begun.” “Same,” I said. “No-one, not even me—looking for the next philosophical breakthrough, thanks to your interview—could object. They’re discovering, playing, finding new ways. It’s how any real advancement is made.” I only half heard her—busy feeling the lump in my throat—as I watched one small, chubby chimpanzee, proudly standing before a larger group, happily bashing two rocks together. “That’s normal behaviour,” Ellie said, pointing at him. “A young chimp. Learning. What spark!” The lump in my throat disappeared. I smiled. ### I disbanded my group after that, no longer annoyed at higher level thinking. Stevie Grunge bought a van. The students returned to college, all a little high. And thinking of that young chimp I realised I actually enjoyed rocks, so I took up amateur geology.
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Jan 4, 2020 17:09
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| # ? Dec 6, 2024 07:56 |
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I'm judge also
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Jan 4, 2020 20:19
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