The Crab and the Turtle

thethemeis: Selfishness

theauthoris: Deadbeat

One summer's morning, young Turtle was out looking for food. He had already searched down by the rock pools and over by the great pipe where sometimes human waste can be found, but found nothing. He decided to try his luck on the shore. On his way to the shore he came across old Crab going about his business.

"Good morning Crab," he said. "Busy looking for food too are you?"

"Piss off," said the grumpy old Crab. "This is my fucking spot."

"Don't worry Crab, I won't take anything from your spot. I was just on my way to see if there was any food washed up on the shore."

"The shore, good idea." mumbled Crab, and he scuttered off towards the beach.

"Brilliant," said Turtle. "We'll go and look together, oh what fun.

As the pair approached land they could see a dozen seagulls flying overhead. Sensing food was near they hurried up the beach. Lying on the sand they found the fresh carcass of on oil covered baby dolphin. They couldn't believe their luck, they had hit the jackpot.

"Oh wow! With this dolphin carcass we can feed all of the creatures in our neighbourhood for months." said the excited Turtle.

"Fuck that! I found the fucking thing, no other bastard's having some of my dolphin!" yelled Crab.

"Well, technically Crab, WE found it."

"Ok then, we'll split it. You can do whatever the fuck you like with your half, but no fuckers their hands on my half." reasoned Crab.

"Ok then Crab, it's a deal." replied Turtle.

Together they spent the rest of the day tearing off chunks of dolphin flesh and taking them back to their homes. As the sun was setting and a small amount of the dolphin was left, a lone Seagull flew down to the Crab and the Turtle.

"Evening gentlemen. Pardon my intrusion, but I have just heard of this dolphin carcass from my friends. I would have gone flying with them earlier but I had to stay home and look after my sickly son. I would greatly appreciate it if you allowed me to have some of this food to take back to him. I struggle to find food for the both of us at the moment,"

"Piss off you scavenging twat!" yelled the Crab. "This is our dolphin carcass, go find you own food!"

The seagull began to fly away, but thr Turtle took pity on him.

"Here you are Seagull, you can take what is left of my half of the carcass."

"Thank you very much kind Turtle, my son and I are in your debt. If you ever need a favour, please just ask."

The Seagul took half of what was left of the Dolphin, Crab took the other half and they all went back to their hoes to eat.

The next day, the other sea creatures in the neighbourhood who had heard of the carcass that Crab and Turtle had found began to visit the pair in an effort to get some food. All that asked Crab for something to eat were turned away. However, all that visited Turtle were invited inside for a feast. Turtle entertained Blowfish, Conga Eel, Lobster, Octopus, Squid and Starfish all enjoyed many great feasts at Turtle's house, where they all ate, sang and danced 'till the early hours.

One day though, Turtle went to his cupboard and found that all of his Dolphin carcass had been eaten. He went out and looked for food but found none anywhere. That night he went to visit Octopus.

"Hello Octopus, sorry to impose but I have run out of food. I was just wondering if you could spare any."

"Ohh, sorry Turtle. I already have Squid over and we really only have enough food for the two of us."

"That's ok," said Trurtle. "I will try elsewhere."

Next Turtle went to visit Lobster.

"Hello Lobster. I'm very hungry and I was just wondering as I let you eat my dolphin for many nights if tonight I could eat with you."

"Who the fuck do you think you are!" said Lobster. "I could never stand you really, I just wanted to eat your dolphin. Now bugger off and pester someone else."

"Oh, that's a shame." whimpered Turtle.

Everybody that Turtle asked for food that night either had none or were unwilling to give to him. He went to bed that night very hungry and very sad, but said to himself that he would try even hard to find food tomorrow. The next day he decided to try and search by the shore again. He went up to the beach and looked all over, but was unable to find any food. Just as Turtle was beginning to lose hope he saw a familiar face flying overhead.

"Hello! Excuse me! Hello there!" yelled Turtle.

"Alright there, what do you want?" said Seagul.

"It's me, Turtle. I gave you some of my dolphin for you and your sick son a few months ago."

"My son?" replied Seagul.

"I'm sure it was you." said Turtle. "It was very tasty if slightly oily dolphin. You said to ask you for a favour any time."

"Oh yeah, I remember." said Seagull. "That was good dolphin. Look, I don't really have a son mate. I just said that because, well....a guys gotta eat. I'm sorry but I couldn't help you even if I wanted to, there's no food around at the moment mate. My advice is, when you do find some, keep it to yourself next time. Why not ask that Crab, he had the right idea."

With that the Seagull flew away to search for his own food. Now feeling very hungry and out of ideas Turtle went to visit Crab to see if would give him any of his dolphin.

"What the fuck do you want?" said an angry Crab.

"I was just wondering if you had any of that dolphin left." said Turtle meekly.

"Why, what the fuck did you do with all yours?"

"I shared it amongst the other creatures of our neighbourhood and now it's all gone. I asked them all for some food, but nobody else would give me any. I know you don't have to give me anything, but I would only want a little bit. Please Crab, I am ever so hungry."

"Tough! You should have been such a stupid cunt!" yelled Crab and slammed the door in Turtle's face.

A few days later Crab found Turtle dead by the great pipe where sometimes human waste can be found. He took his body home and scooped out the flesh which he added to his pile of decaying dolphin flesh. He used the shell as an armchair.

---------------------

Sometimes it pays to be a little shellfish.

No Apologies Necessary

thethemeis: Aftermath

theauthoris:  Deadbeat

"In other news, Jamie Barnes has been released from prison today after being cleared of all charges connect to the abduction and murder of 7 year old Jessica Trent 12 years ago. This comes after Sarah Trent, the girl's mother, gave a report to the police citing her ex-husband Peter as the perpetrator of the murder. After finally admitting his actions in court 2 days ago the police have sufficient grounds to grant James Barnes his freedom. The chief of police Donald Sutherton has apologised profusely to Mr. Barnes for the grave miscarriage of justice. It is believed Mr. Barnes could receive in excess of £2 million in compensation."

You'd be hard pressed to find a news report any longer than that on the subject. Sure, there had been pages and pages written about the new evidence coming to light and the subsequent arrest of Mr. Trent. Channel 4 were even commissioning a documentary on the whole saga, but in reference to the releasing an innocent man after 12 years of what can only be described as some kind of personal hell, you be lucky to find a full 2 paragraphs.

None of the tabloids had the audacity the put the story on the front pages. James' release was squashed down into the bottom two lines of stories with headlines such as "Animal Admits Daughter's Murder". Ironic really, given the extensive coverage they'd previously given their poster-boy of child murder. One of the more self-important broadsheets cast James as the protagonist in a "hard-hitting" expose of miscarriages of justice and failings in the legal system. It was nice to see them give a new role to their one-time star of a a piece explaining failings in Britain's orphanages which were capable of "churning out maladjusted and sick individuals into society".

I was impossible to find a quote from the man himself anywhere.

People in pubs and dinning rooms up and down the country struggled equally with discussing the news. The police often got a good bashing for their incompetence in the affair. How dare they allow the general public to vilify and launch a campaign of hate on an innocent man. There were no shortage of semi-drunk men giving graphic descriptions of what exactly they would do to the girls father if they got their hands on him. If was often exactly what semi-drunk men would have done to James 12 years ago. If anybody happened to bring up his name then it was generally agreed he was a lucky bastard to get so much money out of it.

Besides, he always looked a bit weird. "I wouldn't surprise me if he was into that sort of thing anyway."

The disappointing thing for most people was that it was so clear cut. If it had been a witness testimony which had become invalid, or some new DNA evidence that had been found then there could be some element of doubt over the whole thing which would mean nobody would have to change their opinion on the matter. Mind you, there were a few smug people who claimed to have know it was the parents all along. There nothing quite as satisfying as being able to spot a kiddie murderer just from a few press appearances. They should really have put some money on it.

----------------------------

I never got to see James after his release. The truth was, I didn't know him that well before his arrest, I just worked with the guy briefly. Even still, I found it hard to believe he'd done what they said at the time. Then again, I found it hard to believe anyone would do  that. I guess I just remained decidedly uninformed about the whole situation, whilst people all around me aired their thoughts on what happened.

I never heard or saw anything about him again after those reports.

Fresh Start

thethemeis: Let Down

theauthoris: Deadbeat

I've always dreamed of seeing the future, who hasn't. This isn't really the ideal scenario for doing so, but it's a silver lining. I could see my mum in my dad's arms, struggling to hold back her tears. Sure i'd miss them and as any parent will tell you, this situation is 10 times harder on them than it is on me. But we all knew there was no alternative, I'd been to just about every specialist I could afford to see and they all said the same, it was inoperable. It was either this or being dead within 2-4 weeks.

At first, when the doctor from the Royal London Hospital suggested it to me I thought he was joking. I'd seen reports of it on the news and in the papers, you couldn't miss them, but i'd assumed it was beyond anything I could afford. He explained that they were accepting a cross section of patients with incurable illnesses to be frozen with the understanding that they would be the first to be operated on once the methods had become available. It seemed as far as he knew there should be no reason why the deep freezing process should make any future operational methods any more complicated as all current test patients had awoken in almost identical physical state. The test subjects were mainly just for legal protection, I imagine if they had overlooked something crucial, they much rather find out by killing one of us than one of the soon-to-be-many millionaires and billionaires who would use the service. Either way, I had nothing to lose.

The closer it got to the date, the more excited I got about the prospect. I hadn't had a bad life, but it'd be a stretch for anyone to say that I had lived it to the full. They was certainly nobody that would really miss me, except for maybe my parents. I was only 33, if I could start again then who knew what I could do. They had no accurate estimates for the length of time it would take to find a cure for these things, but it was generally considered that what I had would take longer to find a solution to than most. The world could be an entirely different place by then, I could live out every child's dream. See unimaginable technology, travel at unbelievable speeds, maybe even experience space travel, who knew.

The day came and I went up to the centre, with my parents as companions. They administered various tests to certify that there would be no problems with my stasis. Then they checked that my brain tumour was severe enough and that there would be no other complications that they would have to resolve upon my "awakening", as they referred to it. And here I was standing in front of what was to become my home for the undeterminable future, in a hospital gown, with a mixture of sadness and excitement.

"Once you get inside the chamber you will feel very cold and after approximately 10-15 minutes you will fall into a deep sleep. You shouldn't experience any pain and once you have reach stasis time you fly past without you being aware at all. The next thing you know you'll be waking up on a hospital bed in the future and it will feel as if no time has passed at all. I will give you a few moments to say goodbye."

I said goodbye to my parents and entered the tank. Damn right it's cold. Having taken off all of my clothes I was seriously concerned for my extremities. I adopted the fetal position and began to wonder what I might wake up to find in what would appear to me to be a few moments time. Perhaps the world would become a more peaceful place, the Utopia that science fiction films are based on. Perhaps I was due to awaken into a world where I could no longer die of any physical illness. Perhaps technology would remove all jobs and menial tasks from our world. Perhaps....

"Hello. Are you awake, hello sir. Hello?"

"Err, where am I?"

"Hello sir. It is currently the year 2134, you are in the awakening room in the Royal London Cryo-stasis Centre."

"2134, really? What is the world like now? Am I cured now?"

"Well sir, the world is very different now, in many ways. I believe over the next few days you can learn  all you wish to about the differences between our time and yours. However, I also have some bad news for you. in the 122 years that you have been frozen  we have made many advances in the medical world, but unfortunately we haven't got much closer to finding a solution to your particular problem."

"So why on earth have you awoken me?"

"Well, although we cannot provide a solution to your problem, we have been able to find ways of combatting the majority of medical problems that faced people of your time. Because of this and the many successful and positive responses to the service we provide, stasis procedures have become very popular. The problem for our company is that space has become very rare in our over populated world, so i'm afraid that your pod has been released for a more significant investor."

"Wait a minute, you can't simply cart me out. I have a contract!"

"I'm afraid the contract you signed became obsolete after the legal reform in 2128. All legal documents made before 2078 were defunct from that date on. Now that our facilities are overcrowded we have begun emptying out all pods which are not financially backed. I'm afraid all we can offer you is a place to live for the remaining few weeks of you life."

"Bummer!"

Erm...

thethemeis: Shame
theauthoris: Deadbeat

I just stood there starring at the floor.

“What the fuck man!”

The only bare section of carpet in which a complete version of it’s pattern could be seen was between the chair and the wall. Five and a half pattern lengths by eight and a bit the room was.

“Are you actually going to say anything?”

My fingers were dancing. It wasn’t their usual measured & co-ordinated jig. They skittered and tripped, frantically trying to work out the pressure growing in my pounding head. It was a futile effort.

“Do you even remember what you did last night?”

It was something to do with the kitchen. I’m sure there were many things, but the really bad one involved the kitchen. I couldn’t see it from where I was standing. I’d been confronted before I had the opportunity to check on the results of my previous night's actions. Perhaps i'm wrong. Domestic issues can be easily forgiven, he looks far angry than that. How long has that newspaper been under the sofa.

"You do this all the fucking time! You get so pissed up that you don't know what you're doing and you fuck it up for the rest of us."

This is definitely about more than the kitchen (unless i've broken his Jura Impressa 27, chrome). I must've done something to damage our reputation. That's always the problem when I get on the charlie. Nine times out of ten i'm the bomb. My wits are sharp, the girls love me and the guys hate me. But every now and then it goes horribly wrong and I come off as an absolute cock. Perhaps that's it, maybe I went rogue and fucked it up for the other guys who were onto a sure thing.

I switch my view from the floor to the new Sony 65" LED backlight TV, HD & 3D. The news is on, something about atrocities in some North African country. I know it's important to stay on top of current affairs, but I struggle to motivate myself to do so. Personal i've never found it that useful, my conversation is always built more around the moment. I wonder if always carrying things on your head like that has some sort of long term effects on the brain.

"So what was she like than, was it worth it?"

She? Who's he talking about. There was no one in my bed this morning. I say morning, it is nearly noon. Maybe she's already gone. Why would he be angry though? Unless... Marisa, she was there last night. I wouldn't though, would I? I mean, I definitely would! Who wouldn't? But I wouldn't actually. We have always got along though and she wouldn't have any problem doing it, not the way it ended between them. If it was Marisa then it's a cruel shame that I can't remember the night's events but still face the repercussions.

A Trip to the Shop

thethemeis: An Endless Cycle

theauthoris: Deadbeat

I awake in a room that looks as though it belongs to an anally retentive student mid-way through exam season. Two of the walls are custard yellow with small paper notes and the TV has been turned into a noticeboard, complete with calendar. I recognise it as my house, though laid out very differently. My head is pounding and mouth is desperately dry, I must've been on the booze last night. I make my way into the kitchen and sure enough, standing on the kitchen counter is a police line-up of possibly guilty, non-branded spirits. Personally I think the white-label gin is acting as though it has something to hide. Now I can add on to the increasing pile of questions I have surrounding the state I find myself in, "why have I reduced myself to buying such cheap, nasty booze."


I reach out to the cold tap and place my head open mouthed underneath it. I doubt there's a clean glass in this room. I twist the stainless steel faucet, but to my arid throats disappointment nothing happens. Upon closer inspection the tap and sink look as though they haven't seen moisture in a considerable amount of time. It is only at this point that I begin to realise just how much of a state my house is in. Having woken up feeling like George Best's adopted and equally mistreated liver, I missed the more obvious signs and simply assumed that my house was the victim of a weekend long binge. Now I look closer I see that all of the windows are covered. A large metal dustbin stands in the corner surrounded by empty tin cans. All the electrical appliances are either missing or used for other purposes. There are no homely comforts at all in fact. It's as though i'm living in some post-appocalyptic squat.


Eventually I find what seems like a bucket of rain water near the front door and quench my thirst before setting off to find out what the hell has gone on here. It seems that the yellow post-it-notes which cover the walls are instructions written by my own clumsy hand. I make my way over to my new 42 inch TV which seems to be the centre of the whole operation. A sign above the calendar reads:


CROSS OFF THE NEXT DAY ON THE CALENDAR AND COMPLETE THE SET TASKS


Apparently today is 13th February, a Tuesday. There's only one task for today. SHOPPING. I glance back through the previous months, noticing that shopping is a fortnightly activity for me. Ah well, at least I can get myself something half-decent to drink now.


I still can't remember a damn thing. It's not just the previous day that i've lost, no matter how hard I can try I can't picture anything that explains my situation. I still have all my old memories of Adriana and Chris, of moving here. They all feel distant though, like a film I watched a long time ago. I'm not exactly sure how much time has passed, but I can tell it's been this way for a while.


Also attached to the derelict TV set are some basic instructions for my shopping trip. It tells me where to go, even though there's only the one shop in town. It says that there's a shopping trolley just outside the house which I can use and to make sure I stock up mainly on bottled liquids and tin foods. Even though I know the instructions are from my own hand, I can't help but feel irritated by their patronising tone. I trail off half way through and decided to just head down now to get something which will settle my stomach. After searching through the living room for about 5 minutes, I find my wallet and head out of the house.


I wasn't quite ready for the sight that awaited me on the other side of the door. It appears that it is not just my house which is in a state, the whole town appears deserted. Not just that, the buildings all looked as though they'd faced some great bombardment. Windows were smashed in, doors hung loosely off of their hinges. Some even just had great big holes through the walls. You could be forgiven for thinking that nobody had lived in this town for years. I notice the trolley that was mentioned in the note a few meters away from my front door. I begin to push it down the road, still in awe of what had happened to our small community.


After 15 minutes I come to the local food store. It was big enough for all your essentials, but we still tended to make a monthly trip up to City to get all the other things we occasional needed. We used to anyway. I hadn't seen a single trace of life all the way here and the store seemed to offer no more reason for optimism. As I approached the door, it hit me. The foulest stench I could imagine, like old garbage that had been left to rot beyond all recognition. I may not have seen a single living person in the town, but I wondered briefly I was about to encounter one, or possible many deceased ones. Barging my trolley through the broken, automatic doors I got a sight of what it was that had caused the unholy smell. Rows and rows of putrid vegetables. And further beyond that, what used to be the fresh meat section. There were flies everywhere, it was like one of those relief videos for an african village. I had absolutely no desire to investigate the scene further, so I quickly made my way to the opposite end of the store, where the liquor was kept.


I noticed that all over the store, the shelves were largely bare. The only shelves which seemed well stocked were the ones containing rotting produce. Upon reaching the liquor section, I found the answer to at least one of the questions buzzing around my head. The reason I had taken to drinking such low quality spirits was that there was next to nothing else left. All the beers had gone and most of the wine. There was only the cheap red left, which I wasn't fond of at the best of times. Naturally all of the whisky had gone. I was only left with a few dozen bottles of various budget spirits and a mixture of liqueurs that I hadn't (to my memory) tried before. I decided to be conservative and only took a few bottles of what was there. Besides, excessive drinking probably wasn't helping whatever was causing my memory loss.


I spent the next 20 or so minutes collecting various tinned food and some dried produce. I had to venture near the bakery section for the jars of jam which was another less than pleasant experience. I found a few post-it-notes in various places around the store too. One informed me that there was some extra supplies in the back, but I discovered that I must've followed this note several times previously as there was significantly less in the store room than it seemed their should be. The empty cardboard and plastic packaging also pointed to my previous hoarding. On closer inspection I decided that there probably was still more than enough throughout the store to feed a person for many, many months. It's just that I had (I assumed) already taken a lot of the good stuff.


As I went to pick up a sweet snack for myself on the way out I wondered just how many times I had done this before. Working my way through the chocolate bars I noticed that all my favourites had already gone.


ONE PER DAY!


...a note screamed assertively at me from the top shelf. "Fuck you" I thought and scooped an entire box of Twix's into my trolley. They're by no means my favourite, but given the choice they'd have to do. But what will I do next fortnight. Milky Way probably, then the Smarties, then god knows. I was stuck in a loop. Performing the same tasks month after month and probably thinking exactly the same thoughts every time. Perhaps two weeks ago I was stood going through exactly the same shit in my head. But this loop can't last forever. There are supplies here for now, but they'll eventually deplete. I've got to find out what the fuck is going on.


I leave my trolley where it is and run out of the store. I go house to house looking for clues, breaking in through the window where I need to. Most homes look as though they've just be left in hurry, others seem as though they've been turned over and left in a state. Not to the extent of my house, but definitely squatted in briefly. There's no sign of people (or bodies) in any of them and I begin to turn my attention to going through their kitchens whilst i'm there. A few places still have some useable supplies. One house even had a half full bottle of Jack Daniels. I take a few swigs as I go through the rest of their larder. I polish a few tins a sardines and make my way upstairs to see what else is about.


I find a study that appears to have belonged to the man of the house. In the top draw of his desk I find a journal and begin reading from the end to see if it offers any clues as to what has happened. The last entry details a fairly uneventful day in which the writer has to attend a meeting in the city about some merger or other. It's hard to tell exactly what he does for a living, he spends most of the entry describing in great detail how much he despises the head of the opposing companies board. I drink a little more JD and carry on reading backwards. Nothing out of the ordinary seems to happen in the town. In fact his personal life seems to feature very little in his journal at all. Eventually I decide it's a waste of time and put it back in the drawer.


I've only been awake for 3 or 4 hours, but with quite a large amount of Jack Daniels now in my system and still feeling quite drunk for yesterday I begin to feel drowsy. Admittedly I got up a little early on account of being so incredibly thirsty. I decide to have a quick nap in the master bedroom before I take the shopping back to my house. I finish off the bottle of JD and lay down.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I awake in a room that personifies middle America with it's huge wardrobes and meticulously tidy decor. This certainly isn't my house. I feel slightly tipsy, though not overly hung-over. Despite this I struggle to remember how on earth I came to be here. It seems to be late afternoon. I get up off of the bed, fully dressed, and move to the door to listen out for anybody else that may be in the house. It sounds eerily silent out there. I slowly make my way downstairs to find that the place is completely empty. It looks as though somebody has burgled the place,  the window is broken and everything has been turned over. I haven't got a clue what i'm doing here but i'd decide to leave before any blame can be put at my door.

I open the door slightly to make sure I can sneak out unseen, only to discover that the whole town is deserted. Not only is the town devoid of people, it looks as though it has been hit by some natural disaster. I walk out into the middle of the road to take in the whole scene. The house that I have just come from is not far from the local food store. In a state of complete confusion I run back to my house to see whether my wife and son are there and to make sense of this whole thing.

I run in through the open door and find myself in a room which feels as though it belongs to a mentally unstable poet. I search through all of the rooms but find no trace of either Adriana or Chris. Then I notice the new 42 inch television which is now absolutely covered in paper. I read the notes which explain that I have damage my brain such that I am experiencing life through a series of short passages, after which time my memory disappears. I large note on top of the TV set reads:

CROSS OFF THE NEXT DAY ON THE CALENDAR AND COMPLETE THE SET TASKS

I look at the calendar which states that today is 14th February, a Wednesday.

My Dark Longing

thethemeis: Monsters

theauthoris: Deadbeat

They'd call me a monster, if they ever knew. Perhaps they're right.

I've always said to myself that i'd never actually do anything. No matter how great the urge became, i'd never act on it. 'There are always other ways to get my kicks' i'd think to myself. 'The internet is full of stuff, there are literally thousands of videos out there. It's horrible to think of the immense suffering and mental torture that those videos capture, but it won't cause any more hurt if I watch them. The damage is already done. And if it silences the voice in my head for a week or two, then it's for the best really.' And so I was able to control my desires for a while.

I often saw stories on the news that awoke my interest. It was hard not to, they're usually everywhere. I can't get on a train or walk down the street without seeing the graphic and shocking images staring back at me. It's a struggle not to show my keen interest and delight as people stand around the office retelling the gory details to each other. I'm sure on more than one occasion I have been caught smiling innapropriately by my colleagues. Perhaps they already know what I am. The amount of rumours going around that place, it'd be a miracle if there wasn't one about me.

On occasion i'd let myself imagine that I carried out one of these grave acts. Pictures of my handy-work on the front of all the national newspapers and on television screens up and down the country. I'd lay in bed and plan out how i'd go about it. The way I would pick the target, how i'd pick a date and the excitement would build in the weeks before. I'd go through ever little detail in my mind, the scenario was rarely the same twice. It seemed harmless enough, so long as I always knew that they were only fantasies. So long as I never believed I would actually do it.

My dad always knew what I was like, what I was into. We never spoke about it directly, but he could tell. Looks he gave me at times when he caught me staring too long, the way he'd always change the channel or move a conversation on if it ever got to near to the topic. It's as if he knew just as well as I did what might set me off. Perhaps he was into it to, spending all his life putting off his urges. Who knows, maybe he'd actually acted on them at some point. Maybe one of those stories I remember so vividly from the television during my childhood was his doing. He could've even made it onto my wall-of-fame.

Then one day, I saw something so beautiful that I knew I wouldn't be able to keep my urges to myself anymore. Whilst waiting for the bus I saw a young mother pushing a pram with a care-free toddler following behind. The your girl was skipping down the road swinging her arms and singing to herself. She was wearing the typical blue chequered dress that many young schoolgirls are seen in. Her hair was bright blonde and in pigtails, with two red ribbons tied into bows. She was the very picture of joy and innocence and I could help but find myself watch her skip down the road.

As she crossed the road with her mother, she noticed me watching her. She stopped and smiled back at me, wavy with her tiny hand. I could barely contain my excitement, I was full of energy watching the scene before me. I had watched countless videos and seen thousands of graphic pictures on the internet, but i'd never come so close to something so erotically engaging.

Though I could see the car slowly approaching her, the little girl just stood waving oblivious to her impending fate. I saw the whole scene unfold in fantastic slow motion. The young girl was not much taller than the bonnet of the BMW which collided with her, but the impact was enough the snap her body back and carry her up onto the car. As she flew through the windscreen she already looked like a small crash test dummy. Glass flew in the direction of the male driver and his young female companion and to my joy I could just make out another tiny passenger in the baby seat behind the couple. The small girl flew straight through the back window and rolled twice before coming to a stop on the tarmac. In the panic the driver veered off towards the sidewalk making his way towards a old couple that had no chance to escape the chaos. The old man was thrown several feet onto the pavement whilst his wife was pinned against a wall by the now stationary BMW.

Once the scene had come to a rest the whole street exploding in such noisy despair that nobody seemed to notice my joyous laughter at the whole event. Of course i'd seen far more chaotic scenes on my laptop, far greater disasters with much higher death counts. I've almost lost count of the number of times i've brought myself to an ecstatic climax watching footage of the twin towers going down or the 2004 Asian tsunamis. This was nothing in comparison to those events, but it was so real to me. Everyone else from the bus stop had got up and run over to offer help to the victims, but I dare not move anywhere for fear of showing my now raging erection. I'd never felt any rush like this, to think that i'd spend most of my life running from this experience. The moment that car made impact I knew there was no going back, I would be doing everything I could to see scenes like this again. My years of strategic plans had to be put into practice. I simply had to see such chaos up close again.

The Shiny Happy People

thethemeis: Shiny Happy People

theauthoris: Deadbeat

Isabella set off down the polystyrene pathway. Soon she would come to the dark wood where the branches twist & turn and the birds sing evil songs. She looked back at her brother James who hovered subserviently behind her. He remained under the spell of the aged shaman who had sent Isabella on her great quest. She stopped by the side of the road to sit on a great whooping mushroom and eat her provisions. She sank quickly into the purple mass as it let out it's characteristic sigh. She knew she would needs her wits about her if she was to make it through the dark wood safely.

Suddenly she heard a rustle from the edge of the wood and dropped her cantilla bread to the floor. There was a small round face with two bright green eyes popping out from between the branches. The creature made it's way toward Isabella and she could see that if was built like a long, muscly snake with several small pairs of legs along its body. It stopped a few feet short of Isabella and said in a booming voice, "I am Ganzar, king of the mighty Slythax. Who is before me?"

Isabella cleared her throat and replied, trying not to sound too afraid. "I am Isabella of the Jokula tribe. I'm off to see the Shiny Happy People of the Golden Bubblegum Castle in candy floss forest. I'm off to get my brother fixed. He has been got at by the darkness bringers."

The creature smiled widely showing off its many pointed teeth. "I am pleased to meet you young Isabella. Perhaps it is by holy Lyzar's great design that we meet, for I am too off to see the Shiny Happy People. You see, my people are facing a great crisis. A great drought has struck our lands and our crops do not grow as plentiful as they once did. There is just enough to go around, but my people are used to a bountiful harvest and they do not like the idea of receiving far less than before. Ferocious anger has filled many of them and I have taken it upon myself to seek the advice of the Shiny Happy People as to how to solve this situation before they destroy one another."

Isabella listened intently to the tale of this majestic creature. Never before had she seen anyone so composed and commanding. Having spent all her life in the small camp inhabited by her tribe she had heard many tales of fascinating creatures and mesmerising places and had always dreamt to see them for herself. "Well Mr. Ganzar...sir. I'd go to the Golden Bubblegum Castle with you and feel most delighted if it is holy Lyzar's way."

The creature laughed merrily, "I'm sure holy Lyzar would be a great fan of your spirit young Isabella. Let us make our way through the dark wood at once." And so the three of them set off for The Golden Bubblegum castle in candy floss forest where the Shiny Happy People lived.

They eventually made their way out of the dark wood, through the treacle lakes and across the candy floss forest. Before them hovered the awe-inspiring Golden Bubblegum Castle, gently swaying in the breeze and reflecting back the gleaming sun onto them. They moved forward and set foot onto the winding glass staircase that led up to the grand entrance-way of the castle. As they approached the top of the stairs a small opening appeared in the front of the castle and began to grow and grow until they could see the splendour that lay inside it. A small pink man, no bigger than a swamp toad, waited in the newly created doorway. He skin was the texture of marble and he wore a glorious silver jacket encrusted with various diamonds and rubies in intricate patterns. He spoke in a high pitched voice that flowed like a gentle stream.

"Welcome weary travellers, you are pure of heart and so have been granted access to the Golden Bubblegum Castle. My name is Edgar, I am delighted to meet you and already consider you personal friends. Can I do anything to make you fell more at home please?"

Ganzar bowed to the small pink man before addressing him directly. "Greetings Edgar! I am Ganzar, king of the Slythax and this is Isabella. We come seeking your assistance, we must speak to whoever is in charge here at once."

The small pink man smiled gentle, "It is an absolute pleasure to meet you king Ganzar, but i'm afraid no one is in charge of the Golden Bubblegum Castle sir. I merely have the pleasure of meeting you friends first, but if another is lucky enough to have to pleasure of greeting the next weary travellers first, I will feel only only happiness for his good fortune. Perhaps I may help you, what assistance is it you seek?"

Ganzar explained the troubles of his people to the delightful pink fellow and he in turn led him through the corridors of the golden castle to a room filled with thousands of bottles full of green liquid. "I am deeply sorry for the troubles of your people friend" Edgar spoke, "but do not fear, this problem is frequent across the many beings of our world. We Shiny Happy People have created this magic liquid which has helped many people relinquish their anger and live in peace with one another."

"How does it work?" enquired Ganzar.

Edgar picked up a small knife on a nearby table and began his explanation. "This liquid creates calm and lowers the desires of anyone who it enters. It removes desires of a sexual nature, it relinquishes any intention to seek fame and favour with ones peers. The being feels no worth for physical possessions and experiences no anxiety over the fate of others. Once the liquid enters you, you feel only love and seek only base comforts as you live out the rest of your existence. Your people will become content with their situation, whatever it may be and you can rule a peaceful kingdom. To experience the liquids effects you need only slice a small cut into your heart and pour it in. The wound will heal itself within seconds of the liquid entering the system. You are welcome to as much of it as you like."

Ganzar marvelled at the glorious potion and thanked the small pink man intensely. The love filled Edgar then turned to Isabella who stood meekly beside the king of the Slythax. "Now young lady, what is it I can help you with?"

Isabella played with her hair, before explaining her situation. "I am Isabella of the Jokula tribe. I'm here to get my brother fixed. He has been got at by the darkness bringers. I was sent by the aged shaman who illuminates our tribe with wisdom."

"I see,"said Edgar. "What exactly have the darkness bringers done to your brother?"

"It's what comes from his mind," began Isabella. "He draws great dark visions from in his head. He sings slow songs, ones that fill the heart with heaviness. He talks to the people of the tribe, tells them things which he has thought of. Things which don't bring smiles but something else. Stories which are of sad things, things which ought not to be spoke of. Some of the people of the tribe have started to listen to his tales, started to take a liking to them. The fill their ears with his slow songs. Songs they don't dance to, they just lay down and fill their ears. People have began to look at his dark vision drawings, just look and look. The aged shaman sent me to get him fixed, said the darkness bringers are using him to get at the tribe. Said he will fill the tribe with darkness. But my brother is a good boy, he only means love by it."

"I'm sure he does," replied Edgar. "Isabella, your brother doesn't need to be fixed. Your brother is one of the special people. We Shiny Happy People love all living creatures and do all we can to fill them with our happiness, but some people we cannot help. Some people, maybe for just a short time, maybe for all their lives are resistant to our happiness. But they seem to have something else, something we Shiny Happy People have never understood. We cannot help these people to receive what it is they need, but there are special ones, like you brother, who can. He has a great gift, and because of that we Shiny Happy People love him even more. You should cherish you brother Isabella as he is a healer of your people. He may not be needed but everyone all the time, but he is always there to provide the something else."

Isabella gave out a beaming smile. "I always knew James was only good. He is special. I always knew, but forgot, just for a bit. But what of the quest the aged shaman sent me on. What do I tell him sir?" Isabella Inquired.

Edgar held Isabella's hand delicately and looked up into her innocent eyes. "Tell him that the Shiny Happy People have sent your brother back as their ambassador, to do the work that they cannot. Tell him to respect James as an important man in your tribe. And if he still fears of the darkness bringers and their presence in your brother Isabella, then give him the magic liquid."

My Birthday?

thethemeis: Deception

theauthoris: Deadbeat

I awake in a room that looks like it belongs to an OCD sufferer with severe agoraphobia, or a criminal investigation team. The walls, the furniture, nearly every inch of the place is covered in little yellow post-it notes. After a while I realise that i'm in the open-plan ground floor of my new house, though I don't quite recognise the layout. I'm lying on the sofa bed, facing the front door which is blocked by a chest of drawers. All the windows are boarded up and there's a dustbin in the corner of the room with a small fire in it. I don't know what the hell has happened here, something severe I imagine.

I soon realise that my headache isn't going anywhere, so I get out of bed to explore my surrounds for some clue as to what's gone on here. I search every room of the house, but find no sign of my wife or son.  There are not even any clothes or toys around the place to suggest that they have been here recently. I can't quite work out how far back the gap in my memory stretches, it all gets quite hazy not long after we move here. I remember everything fairly well up to that point, my childhood, meeting Adriana, our wedding day, the birth of our son Chris. I got a new job down in Texas and we moved down here to make a new home. Then, i'm not quite sure. I could be a week that i've lost or several years, I just don't know.

I peek through a gap in the wooden planks that cover what used to be my sons bedroom window to see what state the rest of the town is in. It's only a small place, the sort with one shop and one bar where everybody knows everyone else's name. We weren't too sure when we first saw the house, everybody has these ideas about people from the south being very unfriendly and accepting towards strangers. Once we had met the community though, we fell in love with the place. Everybody was so friendly and happy to help one another, a real-life small haven. But now the whole town looks derelict, as though no one had lived there for years. It looks as though some great catastrophe had struck the town, maybe a hurricane. They weren't unheard of down here.

I make my way back downstairs to see if these notes stuck everywhere would give some clue as to what had happened. I notice an absurd large bundle of power extension-cables next to the front door. I can't imagine any use for them. One of the first things I noticed after I woke up was that there seemed to be no power here and anything which required power was discarded or used as a light blocker for the windows. My "new" 42 inch TV is up against the far window and covered in detailed notes of some description and a calendar. I walk over to the cables and notice that they are all connect together. Above the pile are a set of post-it-notes, each with a single letter on them spelling out the instruction:


DO NOT LEAVE THE HOUSE WITHOUT ATTACHING THIS CHORD!


I next go over to the TV to see what is written on it. I stop by the coffee table which has a stack of empty paper on it, a small mechanical timer and a carefully written set of instructions.

MEMORY TEST

WRITE A WORD ON A PIECE PAPER. NOTHING MEANINGFUL OR VISIBLE WITHIN THE ROOM, SOMETHING RANDOM. TURN THE PAPER OVER & PLACE THESE INSTRUCTIONS ON TOP OF IT. SET THE TIMER ACCORDING TO THE LIST BELOW AND PLACE IT ON TOP OF THESE INSTRUCTIONS. 

ONCE THE TIMER HAS GONE OFF ATTEMPT TO REMEMBER THE WORD WRITTEN ON THE PIECE OF PAPER UNDERNEATH THIS ONE. IF YOU FAIL TO DO SO THEN ADD A TALLY MARK NEXT TO THE TIME PERIOD YOU HAVE TESTED. ONCE THE TALLY REACHES TEN, CROSS OUT THE CURRENT TIME PERIOD AND ENCIRCLE THE NEXT ONE.

12 HOURS                                                 ||||   |||| 

11 HOURS                                                 ||||   |||| 

10 HOURS                                                 ||||   |||| 

9 HOURS                                                   ||||   |||| 

8 HOURS                                                   ||||   |||| 

7 HOURS                                                   ||||   |||| 

6 HOURS                                                   ||||   |||| 

5 HOURS                                                   ||||   |||| 

4 HOURS 30 MINUTES                           ||||   |||| 

4 HOURS                                                   ||||   |||| 

3 HOURS 30 MINUTES                           ||||   |||| 

3 HOURS                                                   ||||   |||| 

2 HOURS 30 MINUTES                           ||||   |||| 

2 HOURS                                                   ||||   ||

1 HOUR 45 MINUTES

1 HOUR 30 MINUTES

1 HOUR 15 MINUTES

1 HOUR

50 MINUTES

40 MINUTES

30 MINUTES

20 MINUTES

10 MINUTES

5 MINUTES

2 MINUTES

1 MINUTES

Christ, have things gotten this bad. How long has this gone on for? The idea that my memory consistently fails after such a short period of time doesn't seem so ludicrous to me somehow. My head is still pounding. I walk over to the TV and look at a note above the calendar which reads:


CROSS OFF THE NEXT DAY ON THE CALENDAR AND COMPLETE THE SET TASKS


How can I possibly know that i've only read this note once a day and not crossed off too many dates. How can I know whether i've read this note at all. I guess when these instructions were made my memory still functioned much better. Still, some direction is better than none. I take the black pen resting on top of the TV and cross of the next empty date on the calendar. July 20th, my birthday. I notice a small note of the calendar wishing myself a happy birthday and offering me a piece of cake in the kitchen. Looking at the various other days on the calendar there seem to be a great many tasks, each with a detailed set of instructions somewhere else attached to the dysfunctional TV. Food gathering, which seems to take place down at the local mini-mart. Wood collecting, house searching, a fitness regime, memory tests. Every day was planned out, as best as they can be for a human goldfish. What chance was there that this was even close to my birthday, which birthday was it? Oh well, if I do get two birthdays this year then I can hardly complain. Either way, i'm starving and could use some cake.

I go over to the kitchen area and open the various cupboards looking for my gift to myself. The fridge has been turned on its side and used to block the back door. It seems that all the food I have in the house is tinned, and not the good stuff. There is also one cupboard full of jams and spreads, apart from peanut butter to which I am highly allergic. I can't imagine I have a great many things to spread these products on. Under the sink I find a small brown cake with a single unlit candle in it. It doesn't look overly appealing, I imagine fresh ingredients are hard to come by. Still, i'm famished so I find  fork and tuck in. It's incredibly sweet, overly so. All I can really taste is the sugar and the cocoa powder, but it does the job. It's only once I start eating that I realise just how hungry I am. The cake is gone in a matter of moments and I notice a note written on the base of the paper plate. I hope the ink isn't toxic.

OPEN YOUR CARD ON THE DINING TABLE

I hadn't noticed it earlier but on the table is a small blue envelope. I open it up to discover a blandly anonymous store bought card wishing me a happy birthday. Inside is a message written in my usual, clumsy, block-capital hand writing.


DEAR GEORGE

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

I MAKE THIS YOUR 32ND BIRTHDAY (THOUGH I MIGHT BE WRONG). FIRSTLY, I'M AFRAID I CAN OFFER YOU NO GREATER EXPLANATION AS TO WHAT HAS HAPPENED IN THIS TOWN. AT THE TIME OF WRITING THIS I AM ONLY CERTAIN THAT YOU ARE THE SOLE SURVIVOR AND WHATEVER EVENT HAS OCCURRED HAS RESULTED IN NO SUPPORTIVE ACTION FROM ANY GOVERNMENT AGENCIES. I AM WRITING THIS ON YOUR 31ST BIRTHDAY (AGAIN, POSSIBLY NOT) AND I SINCERELY HOPE THAT BEFORE FINDING THIS YOU CAN DISCOVERS OTHER SURVIVORS. IF NOT AND YOU HAVE JUST EATEN YOUR CAKE THEN I CAN ONLY APOLOGISE FOR WHAT I HAVE DONE. I ESTIMATE THAT BY THIS POINT YOUR MEMORY CAN ONLY STORE INFORMATION FOR UP TO 2 AND A HALF HOURS AND YOUR HEAD INJURY IS BECOMING SEVERELY WORSE. ONE THING I DO KNOW FOR SURE IS THAT YOU WIFE AND YOUR SON ARE DEAD. I AM GREATLY SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS. GIVEN YOUR DECREASING HEALTH AND THE SORRY SITUATION YOU FIND YOURSELF IN, I HAVE LEFT INSTRUCTIONS FOR YOU TO BAKE YOURSELF A CAKE WITH A LETHAL AMOUNT OF PEANUT BUTTER IN IT. THERE APPEARS TO BE NO ONE COMING FOR YOU AND SOON YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO FUNCTION PROPERLY. IT IS BETTER YOU GO THIS WAY. AGAIN, I AM DEEPLY SORRY.

LOVE

GEORGE

The Great Scoreboard In The Sky

thethemeis: Lifetime Achievement

theauthoris: Deadbeat

As Kane watched the counter spin away he began to consider just how blessed he was. It's not uncommon to enter into a religion and allow it's laws and customs to dictate the way you run your life. It's fairly normal to learn a set of beliefs and be entirely convinced by them. But it's incredibly fortunate to reach the afterlife and discover that the majority of your beliefs are true, especially when you've invested so much in them. Kane thought to himself, "A lot of people are gonna be pissed."

                               ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was almost 15 years prior to Kane's death that he was first approached to begin 're-education'. He'd been working at the London office for a few months and had just started to make a name for himself as an up-and-coming name in the financial sector. Of course, he didn't believe any of it at first. Nobody did. But when a senior director of one of the countries biggest banks invites you to a incredibly private function with other high powered members of society, you claim to believe anything he tells you to.

"Now don't ask too many questions, just remain polite and assertive. These first few meetings are designed to test the character of the new intake pool. I'm sure you don't quite believe all of this yet, but thats ok, I didn't either. You seem like a very promising individual and fit the mould perfectly for a follower of the Church of Vita Reliquum. Trust me, this is something you'll want to be part of."

Kane believed that instantly. He had been a member of enough societies, distinguished clubs and university sports teams to know that networking was essential to success. They all had their own strange customs and practises, but the contacts you made in these places far outweighed the indignity of reciting the occasional absurd oath or donning the riduculous neccessary clothing.

The first few meetings contained very little information much as Kane had been told. There was talk of some of the values held within the church and a very vague history of the religion way back to the earliest civilisations. But eventually after the 4th weekly meeting of the ever decreasing 'intake pool', Kane was pulled aside by the Dux Ducis and told to attend the church the next night to 'ascend into true wisdom'.

He went back as asked, now admittedly slightly curious as to what secrets this church truly had. There were two other guys from the intake pool there. He learnt their names, but neither seemed particularly important so he wasted little time on them. There were also what he assumed to be several higher ranking members of the church there too, in ceremonial gowns. Two hours were spent explaining just how secretive this church was and how private it was determined to remain. There were stories told of members who had exposed the secrets held with the society and the grim fates that awaited them. No knowledge of your involvement with the Church of Vita Reliquum was to be told to friends, family or ever spouses. An opportunity was given to leave the church at one point and exclude yourself from it's teachings. One of the men from the intake pool nervously got up and left, Kane had already forgotten his name.

The Dux Ducis pulled out a highly decorated scroll and began his speech. "For thousands of years our church has know the truth behind the mystery of the afterlife and with it we have an insight into the true meaning of this life. Despite our great history, we aim to practise as a relatively modern church and pride ourselves on teaching only what we know for sure to be true. Whilst there are many great men who have dedicated their lives to proposing theories for the gaps in our knowledge of the world and it's creation, we feel no shame in being unable to answer many of the great questions that other religions childishly guess at."

"For centuries we have obtained and catalogued anecdotal evidence of the first moments of the afterlife as experienced by those who have come close enough to death to witness them and return to us. You will both be familiar with the bright light and tunnel visions that are so often associated with near death experiences, but those are merely the first moments of the afterlife. We have repeatedly heard of people who have soared through a tunnel to a great, light-filled plane where they possess no physical presence, but feel a great control over their barren surroundings. Here they are greeted by a giant entity which calculates and tallies the accomplishments of their life. We refer to these achievements as factum and the value of these factum is measured in venerate. The anecdotal evidence differs greatly over what form the entity takes, it appears to assume a form which feels most natural for the individual viewing it. Much of the recent accounts have likened it to a ticking, numerical display very similar to a computer screen. Some of our followers refer to it as the 'Great Scoreboard in the Sky'."

"By collecting what information we could on the various factum that people were rewarded for and where possible, the value of the venerate they received, we were able to make a list. For many years this was a very short list with many contradicting factum, but with the advancement of modern medicine, as well as the disciplined development of our own methods of gaining information, we have been able to create a far larger and more detailed catalogue of factum. We call this the 'Universal Marking Scheme', or UMS for short. The UMS is the churches most valuable asset and one which as you now know, we a re prepared to keep secret at any cost. With the UMS you are given a comprehensive yet incredibly open guide by which you can live your life. A life which will give you the best possible chance of progressing to whatever lies beyond this world."

The Dux Ducis went on to explain various set life-paths that would lead to success in accordance to the UMS and all the existing and emerging theories into what attaining various ratings on your own 'Great Scoreboard' would mean. It was a lot to take in and Kane was still sceptical of religion, but over the coming weeks and months he would read more and more on the topic. He made an effort to talk to various devout followers and even some of the highly revered indium ereptorum (individuals that had witnessed the 'Great Scoreboard' first hand). He began to find the evidence of the Church of Vita Reliquum's beliefs harder to dispute and though there were corruptive and power abusing forces at work within the religion, as there were with any powerful organisation, it's overall message seemed innocent and truthful. So Kane dedicated the next 14 and a half years of his life to following the UMS in hope of being truly successful in life and progressing to whatever came next.



                               ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------



As Kane watched the counter slowly rising, condensing his life's achievements into numerical values and tallying them together, he rejoiced in accuracy with which the Church of Vita Reliquum had foretold events so far. He had no physical form, but felt and thought exactly as he had when he was alive, if not more powerfully. He was able to comprehend and control he environment totally. He had access to all his memories at once, even those long forgotten and erased by alcohol and other narcotics. Whilst the counter ticked away he could see all of the factum that he was receiving and the value attached to each one. But he could also see the factum he had failed to achiever, the various paths he could have taken and ways in which he could have maximised what the venerate he received. It was an amazing and spiritual experience like no other he had encountered, but his mind was focused entirely on the rate at which his score increased.

All of his professional accomplishments had already been taken into account and Kane was more or less on track. He hadn't done badly in that department, whilst he was alive he was considered one of the most successful businessmen in his field expertise. Moderately rich from years of working towards a highly distinguished position and widely envied and loathed by those that knew him and those that didn't alike. But here he was up against everyone that had existed throughout history. The UMS didn't mark professional success by financial gain so much (though there were points for that). It focused more excelling within any given field.

The majority of the ways venerate were distributed suggested that the highest rewards were for whoever made the biggest impact on the world, in whatever shape or form. There were no ethical or moral boundaries to overcome. There was as much opportunity to succeed by being an incredibly compassionate individual who had saved and natured a great deal of live as there was a psychopath who had ruined and ended many. Doctors and warmongers both ranked equal, as did architects and terrorists, liberators and dictators, teachers and serial child abusers. It all boiled down to the impact you had and the way in which your legacy and actions would be viewed by others. This wasn't a fact that the church liked the emphasise, but it was all there on the list for all to see.

This in itself created a problem for Kane. He had mapped and calculated his own score for years, tallying his factum and their venerate carefully to ensure that he would obtained what was widely believed to be a score capable of allowing passage to whatever came next. But he could only guess at he would be perceived by others. He had been sensible when projecting data for it. He gave modest estimates to ensure that there would be room for error, but even still...

Kane's interpersonal relationships were next to be calculated. First up, marital status. Kane had always cared deeply for his wife, they had met at a young age and married soon after. He knew as soon as he met her that he would be lucky to have her and once the ring was on her finger he would do all he could to ensure that he never let her go. He loved many things about his wife, but what he adored most about her was just how jealous nearly ever man who met her was of him. She was an aspiring model when they met (though he soon made her give that up), but even well into her thirties, she looked absolutely stunning. And she wasn't just beautiful, she was smart too, caring, great company and most of all, loyal. Even before he joined the church Kane knew she was a great catch, but once he began to fully understand the UMS, he realised just how good an asset she was.

The thing is, the UMS doesn't favour massively the idea of monogamy. There is a faithfulness factum based on relationship type and duration, but it is widely known in the church (though rarely spoken of) that the most efficient route to take is to have other sexual partners. It would be irresponsible to openly have multiple sexual partners, despite the teachings of the church you still have to fit you actions into a modern western world. Equally it would be pointless to have only a few sexual partners, as the venerate gained would fail to out way the amount lost of voiding the faithfulness factum.

So throughout his marriage Kane made a habit of having multiple discrete affairs with as man women as possible. He took as many business trips as he could and made the most of the time away. There was also an added incentive to try and impregnate as many women as possible as this carried with it added venerate. The amount was nowhere near the value you'd receive for a child you helped raise yourself and you wouldn't be entitled to any bonus venerate brought about by that child's future success, but it was still easy moneys for a few minutes work. Obviously this was not always possible to do without causing future problems, but when business trips took Kane away to another continent where he actions would never come back to haunt him he could sew his oats freely.

Another well known but rarely spoken of element of the UMS was that there was no distinction between consensual sex and forced intercourse. This made things a lot easier as often the prostitutes in these foreign countries had easy access to contraception. It was much easier for Kane to rent a car for the day and make his way to a small village before selecting an appropriate woman to potentially bare his child. He had no idea how many illegitimate children he had whilst alive, but here he could see the sheer number of them. The venerate they carried with them individually wasn't much, but when put together they outweighed the majority of his other achievements in life. They made his many hours of charity work look like a complete waste of time, even his educational accomplishments paled in comparison. He could have used all the time he spent working out fathering more illegitimate children, and even with the venerate he would have lost by being out of shape, he'd have enough extra to cover not nurturing the children he had with his wife. If Kane had any idea he was this fertile he would have changed his life-path a long time ago.

The counter kept on going but Kane knew by now that it was enough. He just hoped that the target so many in the church thought was enough to get you through to whatever was next was right. He watched it climb higher and higher. He saw the accomplishments of the children he had raised and the legacy he had on the financial world. It counted the smaller effects he had had on peoples lives, brief encounters and the unknown inspiration he had given people. Slowly the speed of the counter began to decrease as it reached its final resting place. The last number ticket over and everything went silent. Kane waited patiently to see what happened next.

He considered the many wild theories as to what form of reality would follow. Many believed that the world would start again in a much similar fashion but with fewer people. They claimed that this may have already happened before and people are just being whittled down to the best few. Others carried the idea that the absolute best scorers would live eternally in a heaven like existence, with the lowest scorers forced to spend eternity in hell. It had even been suggested that the lucky few qualify for an entirely new an unconceivable reality with new challenges to faces and a fully wiped memory. Kane had no idea what was coming, but he had spent the majority of his life ensuring that he would be able to participate in it.

Then the 'Great Scoreboard' disappeared and was replaced with a message.

                               ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CONGRATULATIONS KANE JACKSON, YOU SCORED 1,356,534,765,037!

YOU FINISHED IN 7,635,027,836th PLACE!

                               ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Then everything went black.

Would You Rather?

thethemeis: The Grass is Greener

theauthoris: Deadbeat

"Megan Fox.....with no limbs, or no face?"

Craig pondered the question a little, he always had to fill out the details, make the thing more believable. "So does she have any facial features at all?"

"No eyes, no nose & no mouth. So that's blowjobs out of the question."

"What about ears and hair?"

"She can have hair, but no ears. Like a shop mannequin with a wig on."

Craig smiled a little to himself as the image sank in. "I'd go with no face, can you imagine doing it with someone who has no limbs? It'd be a logistical nightmare, like fucking a pillow."

"Are fucking kidding me, you'd do the mannequin! This isn't just any face we're talking about, it's Megan Fox. I'd still smash her back doors in if she was covered in dog shit."

"But that's just you Andy, you're an old romantic at heart." Typical sarcy little prick. "What about you Dan, no face or no limbs?"

I'd almost forgot the guy was in the room, you couldn't blame me. He hadn't said anything for about 20 minutes and he just sat there starring at his jack & coke as if he were about to fling the thing across the room at any second. Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike the guy it's just that he's always been much more Craig's friend than mine. The two of them worked together at some shitty service industry job years ago, the first job Craig got whilst we were still at school and being the good samaritan Craig is he adopted the loser with no friends. But even after Craig moved on he kept in contact with the guy. The joke is that Dan's still there doing the same shitty little job. Mind you, the good thing about Dan even back then was that he had his own place. It's just a small bungalow in the middle of bloody nowhere, but it was all you needed for a weekend drinking session. Even long after Craig and I had both moved out of our parents houses we regularly came down here to shoot the shit and give our livers a pounding.

"I dunno, faceless I guess." Dan mumbled into his half empty glass.

"You too!" I couldn't believe these two. "May I just remind you that have a choice between burying your bone in quite arguably the worlds sexiest woman or throwing one up some faceless freak. It's Megan fucking Fox!"

"Who's Megan Fox?" enquired Dan.

"Jesus Christ, it's like hanging out with Rain Man." I poured the rest of my drink down my throat and set off to the fridge to make another.

"She was in Transformers." said Craig, throwing Dan a rope.

"Haven't seen it." he replied.

"Of course you haven't." I yelled from the other side of the room. "You've probably not been to the cinema since they released Independence Day. Do you ever actually leave this place other than to go to work? I don't even know why we're asking you about this scenario. The only thing you've fucked in the last ten years probably is a shop mannequin." He just sipped his jack & coke and continued to stare straight ahead of him.

Craig chirped in. "Alright Billy big bollocks, calm down. You can have the human pillow and me and Dan will spit-roast the mannequin."

"Sounds good to me." I sat back down at the table with my fifth G&T of the night. It was far more G than T by this point. "Go on then Rain Man, it's your turn."

Dan slowly turned and looked me in the eye with a small smile forming at the side of his mouth. "Ok then, i've got one. Would you rather drink a pint of warm piss or eat a cracker with shit spread on it."

"That's easy," I abruptly replied, "a pint of piss."

"Yeah, i'd have to go with the piss too." Craig added. "Wait, how big is the cracker. Are we talking ryvita here, or just one of those small, salty tuc ones?"

"What does it matter? I'm not eating shit! Besides, you don't know until you've chosen one." I took another sip of my drink.

"Oh, we're playing those rules are we, then i'll stick with piss." said Craig.

Dan, inhaled loudly. "Ok then." He got up and walked towards the kitchen. Craig and I both watched curiously as he made his way to a cupboard in the far corner by the sink. He couldn't be getting another drink, he's still got a good third of his current one left. He pulled open the loose fitting door and produced two pint glasses full of yellowy-orange coloured liquid. Surely not.

"What the fuck have you got there, apple juice?" I was almost impressed that he'd bothered to think far enough ahead to do a prank like this. Even if it was a really shit one.

"Now you don't have to do it in one go, you can take as long as like, within reason." He laid a pint each in front of us and stood back as if waiting for us to begin. I gave my pint a curious sniff and recoiled in disgust.

"Christ Dan, you sick bastard! I suppose that's the colour you'd expect from a lifestyle of drinking nothing with an ABV below 5%." He smiled slightly to himself. "Good prank mate, you really fucking got us. Now take this stuff away from me, it's making me feel sick."

"No, you made your choice Andy. There's no switching now."

I looked across at Craig and he face showed a mixture of confusion and fear. He didn't really believe this tool did he. "It's called would you rather Dan, not you fucking have to." I barked at him, growing weary of his little joke. "There's no man with a gun to my head, i'm not going to drink your piss!"

Dan laughed through his nose in that little irritating way he does. "Well actually..." He reached down behind his back, pulled up his t-shirt and pulled out an old looking pistol which he slowly raised towards my head. I looked across at Craig again, I couldn't believe he was being sucked in by this stupid prank.

"Oooh, where did you get that Dan? Buy it in one of those antique shops in town? You can stand there trying to look as moody as you like, i'm never gonna believe that that thing's loaded, let alone that you know how to use it." He raised his arm holding the weapon above his head.

BANG!

"Jesus christ! You fucking lunatic!" I bellowed at him.

Dan smiled back at me, "To answer your previous question, this gun used to belong to my dad, I found it some years ago." I didn't know anything about Dan's family, come to think of it I didn't know much about the guy at all. I do seem to remember Craig telling me some years ago that Dan got the house after his parents died somehow. I bet the fucking psycho killed them. I always knew he was a freak, the amount of times I told Craig I didn't want to hang around with the fucking reject. "Now are you two gonna stop wasting time and drink up?"

I looked across to Craig, he reached out and grabbed the glass shaking slightly. He really believed this. Still, he knew the guy better than I did, maybe he knows when to play along. He recoiled slightly, experiencing the smell I had a moment ago. At least I knew this wasn't a stunt aimed at getting me to drink piss whilst the other two laughed on. He took a good mouthful and then screwed his face up letting a highly disapproving sound. Dan slowly turned the gun back onto me again. "Andy?"

"Ok, easy." I replied hurriedly. I reached out and grabbed the glass as Craig went for a second mouthful. He wasn't joking about it being warm piss, it felt like it was a fresh bash just cooked up today. But there was no way he could've pissed this much today, how long had he been planning this? Was there some sort of heater set up in the cupboard, Jesus Christ. I leant in and held my nose, if I was gonna do this then i'd do it in as few goes as I could. I poured what felt like a large amount down my throat before the taste finally got to me. I've read that some people regularly drink their own urine because of some sort of health benefits, but fuck knows how. Mind you, they probably aren't anywhere near as constantly dehydrated as the casual alcoholic with the gun standing in front of me.

I put the glass down and opened my eyes. I must have had at most an eight of the pint. I've never been a beer drinker and i've never been great at drinking large quantities of liquid in one sitting. After the third horrific mouthful with still three quarters of the glass to go it dawned on me what a mammoth task this was. Why didn't I go for the cracker? Sure it would have been disgusting, probably far more rancid in taste than this, but I could have done it in one go. One quick horrible moment, then be done.

The grass is always greener.

Five very long minutes later and I was finally done. Craig was done long before me, maybe he did have apple juice after all. He's always been closer to that psycho than me, maybe they did plan it all.

"Ok Dan, i'm all done. Joke over, i'm going home whilst I still have my fucking eyeballs."

"Whoa, you guys have been taking turns on this all night. I've only done one." Dan barked at me.

"Seriously Dan, i'm done. Game over."

"I'LL TELL YOU WHEN IT'S FUCKING GAME OVER!!!" In the 8 or 9 years i've know Dan, he's never been more than a self-pitying, melancholic slob. But it's seemed like finally something had snapped, the little awkward kid has finally caved in and gone into school with a semi-automatic. The look in his eye suggested he really wasn't playing and i'd have to bide my time if I was to get out of this unscathed.

Dan calmed himself down and continued. "Now, would you rather shove a cactus up your arse or masturbate with sandpaper?" We both paused for a minute, was he really gonna make us do this? "Andy?"

"Erm, how big is the cactus?"

"You don't know until you've chosen one." he replied.

"Oh come on, are you fucking serious!" I barked back.

"THOSE ARE THE RULES WE'RE PLAYING WITH!"

"How long do you have to masturbate for?" said Craig, finally plucking up the courage to speak for the first time since this evening took it's horrific departure.

"Good question Craig." Dan replied, notably more animated than usual. He was really getting a kick out of this now. "Until you cum, but don't worry, I will provide some materials."

I finally lost it, i'd had enough of this mad shit. "Why the fuck are we discussing this, we don't have to do this, i'm out of here."

"You have to do this because there is a man with a gun against your head." stated Dan cooly.

"You may have a gun and it may be loaded, but that doesn't mean fuck! You still don't have the balls to shoot anyone. Seeya never dickhead!" I tried to sounds as unfazed as possible before turning and making my way to the door.

BANG!

Suddenly my left leg gave way. I couldn't work out what had happened in time to break my fall and with the amount of alcohol I had consumed that night, I fell flat on my face. I turned my head to see what had happened and the searing pain in my calf began to soar. My jeans were slowly turning brown around the wound and a pool of red was growing underneath my leg.

Dan looked almost as shocked as me, but he wasn't going to let his dominance of the situation fade. "Right...now you see. Now you see what's at stake here!"

"You fucking madman, I can't believe you actually shot me. You're nuts!" I yelled at him.

"I'm getting pretty fucking sick of your comments Andy! Now I suggest you two choose, now."

My leg was really screaming now, the pain seemed to build silently until it reached a point where I felt I might pass out. I looked over at Craig and he was just staring at the floor. He seemed to accept this whole situation too easily. Maybe he always knew this day would come. He knew the guy much better than me, he was the one that brought this fucking lunatic into my life. Maybe Dan had said something to him, shared his fucked up thoughts and Craig had just carried on caring for the little rescue dog.

"Well, cactus or sandpaper?" Dan pushed the question.

"Jesus Christ, sandpaper I guess." I still didn't quite believe he was going to make us do this.

"Cactus." Craig muttered sheepishly. The poor bastard. I didn't what sort of stuff he was into sexually, though he met his wife 10 years ago and to my knowledge he's never done it with anyone else. But even if he has experimented with putting stuff up there, a fucking cactus! That area is gonna be a disaster zone afterwards. Mind you, had I really considered my choice. I'm not sure how much skin damage sand paper can do, but even a quickie is likely to leave me with a very red dick at the end of this. Jesus Christ!

Once again Dan made his way to the cupboard at the back of the kitchen, making sure not to turn his back to us and keeping his gun facing forward in case we tried anything, not that I could move anyway. He came back with a fairly modest cactus, the sort that you might find in an office cubicle, some sandpaper, a handful of porn mags and a tub of vaseline. Now that I looked at it the cactus was probably no bigger than a normal sized dildo and it was far more hairy than spiky. I mean, i'm sure they'd still sting a little, but it's nowhere near as bad as it could've been. He gave Craig his implements and made his way over to me.

He passed me the sandpaper and laid the magazines on the floor close enough for me to reach, but out of the way of the ever increasing pool of blood I lay in.

"Now there's quite a range of material there, from fairly soft stuff up to the real hardcore. I know how keen you are on smashing in back doors." He leant in and flashed a toothy, shit-eating eating grin at me. "Now, i'll let you get it up and hard, then it's on with the sandpaper, ok?" I didn't answer, I just wanted to get this done in the hope that he'd end it here, it couldn't get much worse. I started flicking through the material, suffice to say I wasn't really in the mood for a quick wank. On the other side of the room I could see Craig slowly pulling down his trousers under the watchful eye of Dan. That sight definitely wasn't going to help me get into the mood, so despite the immense pain and discomfort it caused me, I turned my body just enough to get the image out of my visual range.

"You might want to try and loosen yourself up a little before you try the cactus." I could hear Dan instructing on the other side of the room. Oh God! Right, get your mind in it, find something you can focus on. How am I ever going to get it up in this situation. I flicked through an entire magazine, unable to find anything that would do the job. By now Craig was tentatively trying the cactus out from what I could hear, but I tried desperately not to focus on it. I decided to try some of the harder magazines, it's only with a truly depraved mindset that I can get it up now. That might work, I was closing my eyes and trying to recreate some of the filth i'd seen on my computer in the past. Any of it, christ there's so much but I couldn't think of a damn thing. I hadn't even picked up the sandpaper yet.

"You'll never get it in with that attitude, here let me help." Dan barked. Suddenly Craig let out an almighty scream. I couldn't help myself, out of the corner of my eye I let myself see the whole disturbing scene. Craig stood bent over with his trousers and underpants around his knees and behind him stood a menacingly gleeful Dan with one hand on the base of the cactus, currently with it's tip in Craig's rectum, and the other holding the gun against Craig's temple. Christ, he'll be done soon and I don't want that maniac over here helping me.

I was semi-erect by now, so I closed my eyes tightly and pictured the most disturbing thing that I could find sexual arousing. My leg was still searing with pain, but I used it. I picked up the sandpaper, wrapped it around my penis and began to rub. I focused entirely on the pain in my leg and went as fast and hard as I could, flashing images through my mind, convincing myself I was enjoying the whole thing. Craig's screaming started to subside and turned to a wounded whimper.

"I think you'r done Craigy-boy." Dan said calmly, "well done." Oh shit, oh shit. He was coming my way. I couldn't concentrate, my mind slipped and I allowed myself to stop and look down at what I had done to  myself. It was a real mess, the sandpaper was covered in red, my penis was covered in red, my leg was covered in red. "Come on Andy, you'll never finish with that attitude." Dan grabbed my hand with the sandpaper in it and wrapped it around my penis. I was growing too weak to put up any sort of fight, i'd lost a lot of blood. He gripped incredibly tight and went furiously at it. It stung like hell but i'd just have to go with it.

Why hadn't I picked the cactus. Craig knelt on the other side of the room finished. Sure it'd hurt like hell, but I was in enormous pain too. What the fuck will my penis be like by the time i'm finished, could I ever use it again. Craig could still shit out of his arse, he probably won't be able to sit down for a few weeks, but he can still fuck his wife.

The grass is always greener.

After who knows how long my little member finally coughed up the smallest amount of semen it could muster. Dan had been doing the legwork down there since he came over and I guess he realised it was the most he was going to get. Don't ask me how I managed it, it took some immense pyschological gymnastics to get myself aroused throughout the ordeal, but the job was done. I couldn't bring myself to touch my penis, let alone put it away. One look down there showed me that it was a disaster zone. My entire crotch was filled with blood and I couldn't make out any sort of shape to the thing.

Dan wiped his hand on my shirt and moved back to the centre of the room. "Right guys, one last question."

"Fuck Dan, when will this end!" I whined.

"Just one more, then we're all done, honest." I'd given up the fight by now, I felt like I was going to pass out any moment and had fully surrendered myself to the situation. Craig never had any fight to begin with. "Okay then, I have two bullets left. I started with six, one for mommy, one for daddy, one in the ceiling and one in your leg Andy." He shot me the shit-eating smile again. "The question is, would you rather die or watch your best friend die?"

The room went silent. As soon as he shot me in the leg I kinda knew there was only one way this could end. I looked over at Craig, he was still kneeling, starring at the floor, crying. How could he introduce me to this mad bastard. How could he let me spend so much time with this blatant social reject. He must've known this would happen. The look on his face said it all, this was an inevitable outcome to him. "What happens if we both pick the same option?"

"You won't find out until you've chosen." he replied.

"FOR CHRIST'S SAKE DAN, THESE ARE OUR FUCKING LIVES YOU'RE PLAYING WITH!"

"YOU KNOW THE FUCKING RULES!" he screamed back. "I tell you what, you can both answer after three, ok?"

"1..."

How the fuck did we get into this situation, i've know the guy for 8 years. How could I not know what he's capable of?

"2..."

I mean, I always knew he was moody, eccentric even, but this! Craig always assured me he was a cool guy, just a little misunderstood.

"3.."

He was Craig's friend, he brought him into our lives. Why should I die because he chose to nurture a lunatic. There's no sense in us both dying. Jesus Christ!

"Answer's please."

We both spoke at the same time. "Me." "Him." Craig looked over at me, his face still covered in tears. He looked so hurt, so betrayed.

"There we have it." Dan interjected.

BANG!

Craig fell to the ground almost instantly. Dan turned to me. "Why would I want to live in a world where the only friend I have is a complete cunt!" He put the gun in his own mouth and closed his eyes.

BANG!

                      -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks on and my leg is still unusable. My penis is healing, but I still try not to touch it if possible when I urinate. There was no way to explain what happened there to anyone, I think the police finally believe I didn't do it. Craig's wife came to see me. I tried to explain what happened, well, some of it. I don't think i'll see her again. His funeral was the other week, I couldn't bring myself to go. Perhaps if i'd have said me Dan would have spared us both. Perhaps he just wanted to end his own life and the rest was just a fucked up game. A test. Every night I lay awake wishing i'd said me instead of him.

The grass is always greener.