Friday, 28 December 2018

The Pipes!!!!

PART 1

Don't put me in the pipes!

I beg you!

I claw and I scratch.
I try to hold THEM back.
They won't let go.
They whisper threats and I say no!
They whisper:
"To the pipes to the pipes with you!"

ANYWHERE BUT THE PIPES!

"Leave me be!" I cry. 
They don't listen.
OR they don't care.
The latter more likely.
I cannot go to the pipes!

But they won't let go!

PART 2

I was walking one day, maybe my last day, around the corner of what I thought to be nothing more than a safe street a mile no less from home.
  Then it happened...
  They came at me, hands grabbed, like snakes at rats, terrible tendrils of mighty strength.
  They bark like dogs too.
  They throw curses at me.
  Their leader, who stands aside and does not attack, looks down at me, and I see the end of the world in his eyes.
  I knew he meant me ill.
  Then he whispers:
  "We're taking you to the pipes!"
  NO!
  I scream it again NO.
  They do not listen.
  I don't think they care. 
  They muffle my voice and take me away.
  I fight.
  They restrain me with strength!
  NO!
  I cannot bear the thought of the pipes!

PART 3

They carry me far across the city.
  Many eyes watch with lids closed tight.
  And on we go, into the midnight.
  The moon cares more than their sallow faces.
  There is no hope as we draw closer to the pipes!
  "Curse you all!" I cry at the hilt of my lungs.
  "This was not my path!  You broke my road!  I cannot be undone!  My words live like flowers!  Tree pollen survives the root!  So will my words!  I will hold fast like stars, and still burn when the our beloved sun shuns them.   And then my words will burn as bright as the sun!  The mighty star!  I shall hold.  And though you my assailants might shroud me in clouds as deep and as dark as a pit, the star will always hold true.  As true as stone.  Fast We shall hold!  Bring on your waves O dreadful pitiless foe.  Bring on your words!  I shall laugh at them.  For many years I have held my head low, and kept in good favour with many a soul - living and dead.  Now time owes me a favour and it will come back with a trinket to haunt you!'
  I arm myself with this.
  I care no longer for the pipes!

They take me to that sullen location I feared most. 
  Worse than nightmares.
  A shell of a city that once lived.
  The pipe opens its mouth - it calls of me with a hiss of foul smelling vapour.
  They place me inside with little care.
  They close the lid.
  It's all dark.
  It is silent.
  I am trapped in the pipes...
  So helpless I must sing -
  and hope falters with a sting:
  May the air abandon my lungs.
  May my stomach sink.
  I dream for nought but death - sweet dreams take me there!
  Farewell sweet dreams!

THE END


========================================================================
Also take a look at:

My Games

Play Given 'em Hell
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Witches Brew a short text based adventure game!

Also take a look at:

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Tuesday, 25 December 2018

My Uncles Christmas Disaster!!!!!

It was the middle of a cold wet and drafty December when my Uncle Clyde was walking home from work, completely minding his own business, when this crazy man he had never met before leapt out of a hedge and rugby-tackled him to the ground.
  My uncle had the fight of his life trying to get free from the crazy lunatic, when his assailant let him go, brushed himself down and apologised, saying:  'Sorry mate I thought you were someone else!'
  'That's okay...  I think...' my uncle replied.
  He was still lying on the ground, bruised and battered.  The lunatic had the decency to give him a hand up.
  The lunatic introduced himself.
  'My name is Banksy,' he said.  'So what do they call you stranger?'
  Clyde told him his name.
  'Yeah!  I recognise you!  You're the cleaner in that shop right?'
  'Yes I am a cleaner,' my uncle replied.
  'Don't suppose you can put a good word in for me with your boss and get me a discount on any of the food - or anything?'
  'I don't think I can do that!'
  Banksy laughed and slapped my uncle on the shoulder as if they were old friends or something!  'Just joking mate,' he said.  'I like to have a laugh with people that's all!'
  'Well okay I had better get going then...'
  My uncle was desperate to slip away - but it wasn't going to happen that day!
  'Hey what's wrong you?' said Banksy stopping my uncle in his tracks.  'Getting all funny with me?  I thought we were mates!'
  'Look here son I have never met you before!'
  'Well that's nice,' said Banksy.  'I give you a hand up, treat you like a mate and in return you brush me off like I was some kind of dog in the street!  Well that's nice!  And where's your Christmas spirit?  Eh?  Don't bother mate don't bother!  I know when I am not wanted!  I am going to go now but I will remember you!  Clyde!  This isn't over.'
 After that Banksy walked away, and with a sigh of relief, my uncle returned home

  Who was that guy?
  He was mad!
  Back home Clyde made himself a nice cup of teas and went to bed.
  When the morning came round he was back at work again, with his bucket and mop, doing the job he loved so much.
  Clyde was just wrapping up his morning shift, when he heard a voice he hoped never to hear ever again!
  'Alright mate!'
  It was Banksy!
  He was back!
  Clyde's spirits fell right down to the bottom of his tatty boots.
  O no!
  What could that lunatic want this time?
  Banksy walked right up to Clyde and started shaking his hand.  'Good to see you again buddy,' he said.  'And how are you doing my old mate?'
  'I am doing my job.'
  'And so am I,' said Banksy.  'You stay there and I will speak to you in a minute.'
  Banksy vanished into a cloakroom and reemerged wearing a red suit and a fake white beard...
  Clyde couldn't believe it...
  Banksy was plying Father Christmas that year in the shop!
  Clyde couldn't get his head round it!
  Of all people why had his manager chosen to employ such as crazy lunatic to play Father Christmas?
  'Ho ho ho and all that rubbish!' said Banksy laughing and shaking Clyde about.  'This is such a wonderful time of year!'
  'Is it?'
  'Hey!  I'll have less of that miserable attitude from you mate!  This is the season to be jolly remember!'
  'If you say so...'
  'Look Clyde I don't suppose you could do me a favour?'
  Clyde wasn't given the chance to respond - but all the time he was thinking "I hardly know the man and he expects a favour out of me?"
  'I don't suppose you could take over my shift?'
  'I beg your pardon?'
  Banksy explained that he had a bad back.  'I don't think I can do Father Christmas today,' he said.  'But you could.  I will fetch one of my spare Santa uniforms and we'll get you suited up and ready for business.'
  'I don't think so!'
  'You're not even going to think about it?'
  'No!  I'm not!  Damn!  I'm still working!'
  Banksy was furious!
  You could see it in his eyes!
  'Well ain't that nice?' he shouted.  'Here I am, a good mate who needs a little help, you turn him down at his hour of need.'
  'I hardly know you Banksy.  I only met you yesterday, after you attacked me for no reason!'
  'I didn't attack you I was just messing around.  You're too sensitive that's your problem mate!  Now are you going to help me or not?'
  'No!' and Clyde took his bucket and mop and walked away.
  Clyde needed a break.
  He made his way over to the coffee shop but before he could reach the counter or even grab any change out of his pocket, Father Christmas himself came bounding over several tables towards him, dragging this green sack behind him.
  'Excuse me Excuse me!' he was saying as he was pushing people aside.
  He stopped when he got to Clyde and broke the souls of many onlooking children by taking his beard off so he could talk.
  It was Banksy of course.
  He pulled another Santa costume out of the sack.
  'Go on mate!' he said to Clyde.  'Be a sport and put this on!'
  Clyde was incensed with the strange man at this point.
  What was wrong the guy?
  Could he be raving mad?
  But Clyde was determined to hold his ground against the boisterous beast.  'Look!' he said.  'I am not dressing up as Santa  not even if you paid me!'
  'Okay!' said Banksy.  'I'll put it in another way.  If you don't dress up as Santa and take over my shift I'll beat you up!'
  'Are you being serious?'
  'Serious is as serious does!'
  'You're threatening to attack me?  That's a criminal offence.'
  'Not if I take you out in the middle of a back alley where no ones watching.  Then it will be my word against yours.'
  'You're mad!'
  'Not yet!  But I will be unless you put this costume on!'
  Clyde couldn't take it anymore!
  Pushing the lunatic aside he made a run for it!
  He left the building and ran and ran!
  He could hear footsteps echoing in the street behind him!
  He dared to look back!
  And there was Banksy hot on his trial.
  'I am going to beat the living daylights out of you boy!' he was shouting.
  Clyde ran and ran, his legs going like a pair of crazy clappers dancing in a musical play!
  He had to get away!
  But Banksy was the faster man out of the two, and before long Clyde had this crazy Father Christmas bearing down on top of him and finally grappling him down to the ground!
   'Okay you lunatic I will put the damn costume on!'
   Clyde had given in...
  He had no choice.
  He would do anything, ANYTHING just to make the crazy man go away.

So Clyde returned to work buckled up as Santa.
  It must have looked strange, Santa going about with a bucket and a mop, but that's how it was.
  'Only a few more hours and I will be free,' thought my uncle.  'I'll just give this floor another going over and...'
  Out of nowhere two stocky people appeared in his view, and standing side by side their used their great frames to block the corridor off.
  Who were these two horrs?  And they looked like they meant business!
  'You're coming with us Banksy,' said the one who must have been the leader.  'You owe us big time, and you are going to pay up, no matter what it takes!'
  Clyde had to make a stand at this point.
  This nonsense had to stop!
  'Now look I'm not Banksy.  But I do know the guy you're looking forward and I can show you where to find him.'
  'We've heard all before Banksy,' replied the tough looking guy.  'We're running out of patience with your lies and excuses.  We're taking you in now and we're going to finish this our way.'
 There was to be no reasoning with these two...
  Clyde could see this...
  So he did the only thing he could do.
  RUN.
  He made for the cloakroom.  Luckily there was a window just about large enough for him to fit through.  Then when he was in the streets he ran like a mad hair with a couple of hungry weasels on his tail!
  It must of been a sad sight for all the children looking in on the scene, as their hero Santa ran by, without saying a word, with two tough-nut thugs hot on his trail and hurling insults after him.
  Clyde wasn't able to lose the thugs; no matter what alley he turned they were also there in his shadow.
  Clyde thought the nightmare was going to go on forever!
  Then he heard a little voice whisper in the corner, 'This way my friend!'
  Clyde followed the voice.
  Finally he came to and saw a tall man standing at a dead end of a street.
  He was indeed a very tall man, tall and thin, but he was also hunched and his ugly thin face was dressed in a tatty old beard.
  He was holding a sack open in his clawed maw and gesturing it to Clyde.
  'Hey son!' he said.  'Jump into this sack and you'll be safe!'
  'No way!' Clyde cried.  'I don't even know who you are?'
  'Do you believe in elves?' said the strange tall hunched man.
  Clyde replied saying that he did not ever believe in elves.
  'I am going to give you a nice little Christmas wish,' said the tall hunched man.  'Climb into this sack  here and I will save you from those nasty thugs that are after you!'
  Clyde was loath to do it - but the two thugs were  only a few minutes away, and he knew he had no choice.
  So he unwillingly trusted the words of the old crooked man, and stepped into the sack!
  'You won't regret this!' said the tall hunched man.
  As soon as Clyde entered the sack something truly strange happened.
  Something so strange it was mystifying!
  Passing through the stringy texture of the sack my uncle found a door, which he took the handle of and turned, and he ended up entering a beautiful house!
  O it was marvellous!
  Like something truly out of a dream!
  The living room was beautifully decorated and full of Christmas warmth.
  There was a great hearthstone full of a great golden glow of a mighty fire, and its dancing yellow arms cast their light on a great table which was covered in a gorgeous feast!
  'How did I get here?' and Clyde had the right to be confused and amazed - for it wall such an astonishing thing to see and accept.
  The tall crooked man stepped in through the same door behind Clyde.
  He slapped Clyde on the shoulder and smiled.  'This is Elf magic!'
  Elf magic?
  'I am an elf, you see.  A real elf.  I guess you thought elves were like little pixie things that squeak and scuttle about the place.  O no!  Elves look like this, tall, and hunched, and dressed in dark rags with hedge-like beards full of moss and twigs.    We carry frogs in our pockets and wear damp shoes and never wash, for we love to smell of the earth!'  And the elf shoved his armpits in Clyde's face so that Clyde got a good blast of the elves disgusting body odour.
  'Smell my magical breath!' said the elf, and then the thin crooked man breathed freely and heavily into Clyde's face, making the poor man almost pass out with pure disgust!'
  'I am a true elf,' the elf went on.  'An elf of magic!'
  'Well thank you for saving me,' said Clyde.  'I better get home now.'
  'What about the feast?'
  Yes.
  It did look rather nice.
  'Well I suppose I could stay for a bit,' said Clyde, puckering up at the sight of all the lovely mouth watering food.
  'Take a good look because you aren't having any of it!' said the elf.  'You owe me for saving your life!'
  'Owe you?  You can't be serious!'
  'Seriously serious!' the elf replied in a crafty but very jolly voice.  'Your gonna spend the day mucking out the reindeer!  Now!  Here's a bucket and a broom!  Get to it!'
  So Clyde spent the day out in the cold, tidying up after the beasts...
  And my!   A dirtier bunch of reindeer you never did see!
  Covered in muck, the brutes!
  But o well - it was Christmas, and Clyde tried to be jolly about it, and contended himself by looking through the window of the beautiful house, at the feast that the elf gorged on all by himself!
  Imagining what the feast tasted like was almost as much fun as actually eating it!
  In fact, my uncle thought to himself, the thought of eating the feast in his imagination was better than reality!
  Because at least he wasn't going to put any weight on!
  Merry Christmas!


========================================================================

Also take a look at:

My Games

Play Given 'em Hell
Play Elfin Quest
Witches Brew a short text based adventure game!

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Wednesday, 12 December 2018

The 1st time my uncle got himself arrested! (part 3 - Finale)

My uncle Clyde had gotten himself into a mess.
  He had gotten caught up in a drug scam..

And now he was the captain of a ship being run by Russian gangsters!

Clyde was finally introduced to the ships captain - Mr Buster (as he called himself) - and funnily enough he wasn't Russian either.
  Not really a surprise, what with a name like Buster!
  Come on!
  Russian?
  Buster?
  Really?  And what goes well with electricity!
  The only Russian thing about the man was that he enjoyed a glass of Vodka every now and then.
  Glass?
  ...O sorry I meant bottle.
  Yes.
  Mr Buster was the very picture of a drunk.
  He slurred his words.
  And when he walked he leaned ever so dangerously to the left...
  ...and to the right...
  ...and to the ground!
  You could stick a picture of him in a dictionary with the words THIS IS WHAT A DRUNK LOOKS LIKE AVOID HIM AT ALL COSTS and everyone would be fine with it.
  How he ever became the captain of an ocean liner was a mystery more profound than the Bermuda Triangle.
  'Buster Ruster,' said the man, introducing himself while shaking my uncle by the hand.  'But people who know me well call me Reese Vandell Chandelier for short!'
  'I will stick with just Buster thanks,' my uncle replied.
  'No problem.'
  'Good!  So long as your not offended!'
  'Why would I be offended?  I wasn't the one who sneezed?'
  'Okay...  Let's change the subject.  So, Buster, what do you want?'
  'O nothing sir!  Just wanted to check in to see if you are okay!  And also to let you know the ship is about to crash.'
  Clyde heard the man out and laughed.  Of course he thought Buster was only joking about the crash.
  But even though he was drunk Buster had a serious look about him.
  It was the kind of look that made Clyde feel ever so slightly nervous.  'You're not joking are you?'
  'That's why I am drunk right now sir,' said Buster.  'The thought of drinking just makes me want to forget about things!'
  'You want to forget about the ship crashing?'
  'Sure I do?  Who wouldn't want to forget something like that?  If one is going to die then it is better for one to out of this evil world blank drunk.  I mean, who wants to experience death sober?  It's a painful business, sir.  Why, I remember when my old Sally died...'
  'Sally?  O was that your wife?  I am sorry...'
  'No sir, Sally was my pet hamster.'
  'Right okay.  Now listen to me.  You need to tell me more about this crash.'
  'We're currently heading towards an iceberg!'
  'Really?  Good lord!  It's happened again!'
  Here Buster started laughing.
  'Just joking sir,' he said.  'But wouldn't it be great if it was happening like that again?  Why wouldn't that be romantic?  Ha!  And that guy, David Cameron, will be making another film like he did last time.  And we'll be famous and dead!  How wonderful!'
  'Okay.  If we are not crashing into an iceberg what are we really crashing into?'
  'Well you won't believe this sir but we are really crashing into a great big fat old whale!'
  'A whale??!!'
  'Aye sir and I don't mean the country.'
  They were speeding into a whale?  No way!  Buster had to be beyond drunk to be speaking about such crazy things.
  Surely?
  Or surely not - as it turned out they were indeed heading directly towards a whale...
  Clyde didn't who to feel more sorry for, the ship and its crew or the whale.
  'There are two whales out there,' said Buster.  'They are in league with each other, and plan to bring our ship down.'
  'Since when have whales ever been violent?'
  'Since we started charging them for swimming in the Atlantic sir,' Buster replied.
  'Okay.  Look.  We need to get the crew off the ship.'
  Buster heard Clyde and cried: 'Forget that malarkey!  We've got to get ourselves off first!'
  'I thought the captain was supposed to go down with the ship?'
  'Forget that old fashioned nonsense!' said Buster.  'This isn't the golden voyage of Sinbad!  You've got to think about number one in this day and age!'
  'I still feel quite about it.'
  'Fine!  You drown in cold salt water.  I'm getting off with or without you!'
  'Now hang on a minute!'
  Clyde was not a brave man, he wan't afraid to admit this.  He found the idea of drowning abhorrent, so he willingly followed the madman Buster into a safety boat.
  And soon they were adrift amid the might waves - lost in the titanic grip of the sea!
  Clyde look back and he could still see the ocean liner - apparently doing quite well.
  It hadn't sunk yet.
  'The whales don't seem to be attacking?'
  'And they won't sir,' Buster replied.  'I was only kidding you earlier!'
  'What?  No!  You need to get us back!'
  'No chance of that happening now,' Buster replied.  'We've got to keep going to wherever destiny takes us!'
  'You madman!  Why have you done this?  We have no food or water and we're stuck in the middle of the ocean!  We could die!  This must be a joke!  A bad dream!  I'm going to wake soon!  O please wake up Clyde you fool!'
  'No sir!' said Buster.  'I said what I said and did what I did because I felt that we both needed an adventure!  And here we are!  In the midst of the sea, the unknown, the world our oyster!'
  'I preferred it when the world was a snail, stuck in the same place!'
  'Well it ain't all that bad then,' said Buster.  'Snails and oysters are related.'
  That wasn't the answer Clyde wanted to hear.
  'Look, I'll tell you the truth,' said Buster, 'I am not a captain.  Actually, I used to be a bus driver.  I've never been at sea before, you see...  And I am a coward to boot.  I'm the kind of guy who'd hide behind his pet dog in a fight.  I am a mess of a man.  I once did a postman's round for a whole morning because someone threatened to beat me up.  So I am sorry to get you in this mess.'
  Clyde looked at Buster, the drunken oaf, and felt deeply depressed.
  'What about a joke to lift the mood?' said Buster.
  'Go on then,' said my uncle.
  'Why was Watt Taylor called Watt?  Because he kept asking WHAT all the time!'
  My uncle sighed and replied, 'Congratulations, Buster!  You've just been entered into the Guinness Book of World records for creating the worst joke ever in the history of mankind.'
  Buster grinned.
  I guess he saw being the originator of the worst joke ever as something to be proud of.
  But then he was drunk of course so everything was great as far as he was concerned.

Eventually they sighted land...
  Clyde couldn't believe it!
  Hooray!
  Maybe things weren't that bad after all!
  The water carried their boat right up onto the lovely golden beaches of the island, and Clyde leapt out and cried, 'Thank mercy we're saved!'
  And then he had to think for five minutes, and then a little niggling thought yapped in his brain, 'But are we really saved?'
  They could be anywhere!
  Buster was still sat in the boat, moaning very loudly and holding his head with both hands.  'Darn it!  I think I be sobering up!  It's a miserable thing indeed sir it is indeed!  Don't suppose you have a bottle of vodka at all?'
  Buster tried to stand, and then fell down.
  Clyde did not speak to him again that day and was happy not to.
  There was a jungle in the middle of the island.  It was vast, and dark, and very frightening to look at!
  Suddenly an old withered  man came stumbling out of the nearby foliage.
  'Stop there my son!' he cried.  'You are new here?'
  'I hope so,' Clyde replied.  'If I have been here before I wasn't sober.'
  'Well that's okay then,' said the old man.  'My name is Flinster.  I'm a bit of a spinster.  And  a twister.  Nice to meet you!'
  'Hi Flinster.  So where are we?'
  'O nowhere except the middle of old nowhere!  There's nothing here except me and my bubblegum!'
  'What?'
  'Didn't you hear me correctly, sir?  That's right!  I sell gum!  Bubblegum!  The best fruitiest most favourable gum in all the land!  No joke!  Try some!'
  Flinster forced some gum into Clyde's hand.
  Clyde, out of disparity, tried it.
  It actually turned out to taste quite good!
  'I like this gum!' he said.
  'Thank you!' said Flinster.  'I work very hard to make the best most favourable gum.'
  'How long have you been stuck on this island - making gum?'
  'Ten years now,' Flinster replied.  'I make gum in the name of my beloved Samantha...'
  And here the man looked sadly at the ground.  'We built our little gum business together, but sadly she died five years ago.'
  'O I am so sorry!  Was Samantha your wife?'
  'No!' said Flinster suddenly.  'Samantha was my pet chicken.  I've never had a wife.  I never got into all that marrying business.  I'm pretty bad at taking orders you see.'
  'I understand what you mean,' Clyde replied.
  'If you've got time I'll show you where I work.'
  Clyde was stuck on a strange island in the middle of nowhere and wearily explained to Flinster that he was going nowhere fast and he had all the time in the world to do anything random and stupid.
  Flinster heard this and was very pleased.
  With great enthusiasm he led Clyde through the ways of the jungle...
  After some travel they reached a large thatched barn.
  They enter, and Clyde beheld an amazing sight...
  A whole factory of pipes, tins, and huge cauldrons heaving out rings of multicoloured smoke.
  The whole building was alive with the sound of drumming and pipping as the machinery turned and swirled the fruity juices in their steel gullets and vomited out line after line of delicious gum.
  Clyde was amazed, impressed and frightened at the same time.
  Flinster had been very busy - carrying out his industry with great zeal and fervour.
  But the man had to be insane as well  to have built all of that - all those machines...  He could have done anything - ANYTHING.  I mean he had the resources, obviously, why not build a boat and sail away?
  But yet he chose to remain...
  ...And build a factory...
  HE HAD TO BE MAD!!!!
  Flinster started to speak:
  'Do you know what the main ingredient is to my beloved gum?'
  'Apples?  Coconuts?  I don't know you tell me?'
  'It used to be antelopes.  But then we ran out of those.  So now we use...  HUMANS!'
  Flinster grappled Clyde to the ground.
  Clyde tried to shove the madman off - but Flinster had his claws in him and struck out with the strength of a madman.  'I am going to put you in the cauldron boy!' Flinster cried with lunacy flowing freely in his voice.  'I am going to cook you up and turn you into gum!  That's right boy!  We're going to make bubbles out of you!'
  Just when it seemed it was all going to end badly for Clyde there was the sound of gunfire - above and below it came - and before you could say oranges and lemons they were surrounded by the American Army!
  One GI took a hold of Flinster and threw him aside.  Another grabbed Clyde by the hand and pulled him to his feet.  'Thanks son,' said the soldier.  'You helped us track down Flinster McSpinster.  Number one wanted criminal in the known world.  He's been turning people into bubblegum for nine years now.  We didn't know where he was, but thanks to you and your radio message we finally got him!'
  RADIO MESSAGE??
  Just then Buster entered.  He shook Clyde by the hand and explained that he was a secret agent working for NASA all along.  'Thanks for keeping us amused Clyde,' said Buster.  'The drunken thing was really just an act, though I did get drunk in real life in order to make sure nobody discovered my secret identity.  It may have given me gout but it was worth it to get our hands on this most terrible criminal.  Thank you Clyde!  Is there anyway we can do to repay you, son?'
  'Well it would be awfully nice if you could take me home.  All this being adrift is terribly depressing.  I just want my normal life back, yes even my boring old floor cleaning job.  Anything is better than being chased around jungle-islands by mass murdering bubblegum producers.'
  Buster said he was more than happy to help, and within a day Clyde was back home again!

What a crazy time!
  'I better get to bed and get ready for work!'
  Just then Clyde felt in his pockets and brought out piece of Flinster's fruity bubblegum. 
  Clyde looked at the gum and chuckled to himself.  'A souvenir from my adventures!' 
  I don't think so!
  'You don't know where that bubblegum's been!  I don't want it!  Good riddance to gum!'
  Clyde rolled the gum up and stuck it on a nearby lamp post.
  Time to go home...
  Then a voice shouted, 'I saw that!'
  And a policeman jumped out of a hedge!
  'I've been watching you!' he said.  'You looked suspicious, loitering around this quiet and peaceful part of town.  And then I catch you red handed!'
  'Catch me red handed doing what?'
  'Defiling that lamppost of course!' said the policeman.  'That's littering that is sir.  That is polluting the atmosphere!'
  'Polluting the atmosphere?  You must be joking?' 
  'I never joke sir!  And I don't like your lip either!  I shall be adding verbal abuse to the list as well!'
  'Verbal abuse?  List?  Look here I can just grab the gum...'
  'It's too late for that my boy,' said the policeman.  'I am taking you in!'
  'You actually going to do this?  You actually going to arrest me?'
  'It's my civic duty sir,' said the policeman.  'Now follow me to the station!'
  Clyde was eventually charged with loitering, littering, backchat in the presence of an officer of the law and disrespectful conduct in a public area.
  He got a criminal record and spent a week in prison... 
  And that was how my uncle Clyde got himself arrested!
  And it would not be the first time it would happen either...

But that is another story!





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Also take a look at:

My Games

Play Given 'em Hell
Play Elfin Quest
Witches Brew a short text based adventure game!

Also take a look at:

My YouTube Channel





Saturday, 1 December 2018

Does Easy Miner mean anything?

So there I was - far down at the deep end of the cave.
But even that far down I could still see.
The crystals in the rock shone - they shone on the walls - above me.
Like stars.
Thousands of stars shining in a thousand ways.

There were many strangers in that room...
They all talked to me, like they knew me, like we were all friends of old.
But I did not know them, and so our words were as empty as clouds.

And so was carved in the stone the words, "Easy Miner."
Did that mean anything?
Did it have to mean anything?

...I've tried to find a way - but maybe climbing isn't the answer:
Maybe it's time to sit and think.
Maybe it's time to dream, and float.
Maybe I will float to the top -
Maybe my dreams will grant me a prettier picture.

There are set of steps I always see.
They go up and up.
But I just can't get to the top of them.
I know there must be a way.
The gulls make their nests at the top - I hear their wings beat...
But I can never get to the top.

Enjoy the silence if you can get it.
Silence let's you think.
And when you can think who knows what you can come up with?

Your dreams are yours.
Tend them as you would a flower;
Let the garden in your head show many wonderful colours.
Let the songbirds come down to nest,
and dance in their songs.
Paint every colour with your thoughts and cherish them.

THE END

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Also take a look at:

My Games

Play Given 'em Hell
Play Elfin Quest
Witches Brew a short text based adventure game!

Also take a look at:

My YouTube Channel





Saturday, 10 November 2018

Thoughts

beer when I am writing, whiskey when I am thinking, wine when I am happy