Army Knife

The army was never the thing that Gary Golognite found most interesting, indeed it was the sole reason for his bone-crushing apathy which indirectly caused the death of fifteen thousand turtles and a Brian Blessed lookalike.
The problem was not the people in the army, nor was it the things that went on in the institution itself, but rather simply the fact that it existed. As Gary fingered his knife on the night he planned his massacre the only thing that ran through his head was 'Wow, this building kind of sucks'. And he was right, of course.
Some blame Gary for the death of those turtles. I agree with them.

Rainy Thoughts

The spring day was rainy, just like every day in Depression Alley. The name itself was somewhat misleading, seeing as the average day in Depression Alley was actually fairly enjoyable. But this was no average day. Slipping into his cardigan tuxedo with ease, Traden Fairlad gingerly stepped onto his front step, stepping with all the steps a man could muster so early in the morning.
Without warning he noticed the rain, which soaked into his woolen work-wear with an ease transcending effort. Traden experimentally tried lifting his arm and found that the added weight of the rain made it quite impossible to do so.
“Bugger” he said, waiting for the sun to come out.

The Cat in the Hat Comes Back: a Review

Since I spent quite a while on this piece I thought I'd might as well put it here so someone can actually read it. Enjoy your bonus update! And keep in mind it's all in good fun, I hope this won't make people shout at me like dumping on Catcher in the Rye usually does.


I'm going to start with total honesty; I love Dr. Seuss. If I could choose between having my brain replaced with Skittles, having my toes replaced with olives or having every single line of Dr. Seuss being engraved into my memory at the cost of all my knowledge of the effect of fire on deodorant then I'd pick that last one without hesitating for more than a few seconds while I comprehended your mad request. But maybe that's a bad example.

My point is that I've never read a bad Dr. Seuss book, which is why The Cat in the Hat Comes Back caught me off guard. To start with I'm going to give a basic rundown of the plot, so I'm going to have to issue a, frankly, massive spoiler warning right here.

Ready? Are the people who haven't read it gone yet? Regardless here we go, may your seating comfort levels be damned. The story starts when Sally and...the boy who is only ever referred to in first person. Off to a thoughtful start in that respect, as it seems that the narrator is also the main character who never names himself. Maybe it'll turn out that he and The Cat in the Hat are the same person, who knows. This would be a much different book were that the case, let me tell you.

Anyway the kids are shoveling snow when the aforementioned cat performs an act of the aforementioned returning into their lives by immediately going into their house and using the bath. So begins the biggest, most important plot point of the entire novel, a result of frankly wildly fast pacing. In the first book their was a lot more discussion before things started happening, there was the character development of the kids (regardless of its short length, it was there), then the fateful warning of the fish (which we'll get to later) and only THEN did things start balancing on top of other things.

Moving along, the Cat's fated bath leads to a horrible pink ring mark being left all around the bath, which leads to a huge sequence of wiping the 'spot' off things onto other things which in turn are wiped on other things and then the cycle starts again. This is one of my main criticisms of the book, there is no real variety in the things that are happening here. Everything revolves around this barely logical plot point of pink spots, and if it's one thing integral to my enjoyment of the Seuss, it's logic. The only real deviation from this wiping things on other things go-to plot movement is the Cat's new ability to pull smaller cats out of his hat. This is the ONLY other thing to happen in the entire story and it left me rather underwhelmed.

Let's talk about the first book for a second because I feel we need some perspective on this. The Cat in the Hat lit up my day when I found in my attic the other week. The voice of reason represented by the fish constantly foreshadowing catastrophe, to the point of declaring what the consequences of letting the cat in the house would be, seemed very powerful to me, especially when he was proven right at the end. And what an end! A highly philosophical moral question was posed by the Cat's final tidy-up. Just because he cleaned up all the mess he made in the process of forcing an entry into the children's home, does it really make up for the fact that he messed up the entire house in the process? Does the end fit the means in this case or should a more strict deontolgical set of ethics be put in place saying that his actions were all shameful no matter what he did to correct them. Then let's not forget the obvious symbolism of Pandora's box preceding this. Fabulous.

The Cat in the Hat Comes back does not deliver the same rushing thrills, ending on the snow being cleaned of all the pink spots that stained it after they were thrown out of the house by the Catty Cleaner, which raises another complaint. The fact that the pink spots were thrown out of the house should have meant that the story is over. I'm fairly willing to bet that the mother would not have mourned for too long over the loss of a slight aesthetic of snow outside. Snow melts. Snow gets covered in urine and dog excrement...or dog urine. When snow gets dirty nobody cares. Apart from snowmen, of course. Maybe they were trying to please an unseen and unhappy snow-based creature, I simply don't know.

However I have to admit that the rhyme and rhythm of The Doctor's verse are still on top form here, despite a plot weaker than non-alcoholic beer, and this is the only saving grace involved. This sequel simply does not deliver as much as it should, which is so plain and simple that I can end on it. Goodnight.

Mmmmm

Now that I think about it I'd have to say that it all started the day that I left the phone off the hook. It seemed like a perfectly harmless act at the time, I really wanted some ice cream and I couldn't hang up on the salesman on the line because that would be rude. I rested the receiver on the telephone table and sneaked over to the freezer to inspect the cream-based treats on offer.
With a flash of brilliant rainbow-tinted light I was transported to a different dimension ruled by marshmallow people who would not cease asking me why it was that I didn't like the taste of marshmallow. My eyes rolled constantly like a great wheel in the sky.
When I finally returned to my own reality I found that my phone had been off the hook for a full six hours. Thousands were dead. I have never forgiven myself. Or marshmallows.

Some More Cats

Whoops, my laptop died and I didn't have the internet for over a month for a minute there. Oh well, I'm back now with more updates to come. Enjoy.


Just like the faithful screams of the dreaded Northern Frying Birds, the first thing that happened to Herod Mackowich when he stepped out of the house that morning was that he faded into the distance. There were many reasons for Herod's disappearance but this was not the point. The plain fact was that he had done so, leaving his cat in a very compromising position.
Fluffywuffykins Mackowich the kitty catty living fur-ball purred curiously as he made a quick sweeping check around the house for any sign of his owner.
“The plan” he sauced in a delightfully malicious French accent “She is coming together”

Braking News

The truth about carrots was finally revealed yesterday when the research team of the Lite Corporation found abnormalities during a standard database checkup. The corporation's founder Sherif Lite said 'The abnormalities found are atrocious and I am shocked that we went this long without finding them. It is my firm belief and recommendation that all carrots be destroyed before anyone is affected'.
The Food Standards Commission holds similar views, saying they would like see all carrot crops shot into space, as it's about time something was.
In other news ten frogs were killed in an explosion in Avebury.

Komputer

My worst nightmares have come true all at once. I can't open doors, my clothes stick to my skin so hard that I'd need a chisel to get them off, the air smells like dead animals and I got all the questions to my general knowledge quiz wrong.
It was just weird, I'd learned all of those facts off by heart, they were embedded into my memory and I was as sure they were correct as I was that the sky was blue. I can't believe it.
It turns out that computers were lying all along.

A Tale Too Tall

A legend that always arose in the communities of the Red Candy Swamp was that of the giant mud golem. Every hundred years the behemoth would rise out of the marsh and roar with the sound of six thousand and one pheasants all trying to get to a bar at the same time. But it was one faithful day that a young boy discovered the truth behind this tale.
Young Boy stroked his massive boy chin in an attempt to seem thoughtful as he studied the pages of the tome the legend was recorded in when he discovered on the inside back cover was a note scratched in ink.
'I hope one day this dream journal of mine will be published, really I do. Signed, Young Boy' Young Boy recoiled so fast that he flew into space and took up a career in auditing.

That Bloody Sun

It was sunny again, bloody sun. Never knew when to bugger off, did it? There we'd be, enjoying a peaceful cloudy day when all of a sudden there it'd appear, shining in the sky and burning us into crisps. What an attention seeking ponce, eh? Just expecting us to drop whatever we're doing and applaud its presence as if Audrey Hepburn had entered our front room or something.
And what does it do? Does it say hello with a cheery wave? Does it make some polite conversation? No! It just stays there in the bloody sky all day long, not working, I might add. Why don't you just go home? You're not wanted here!

CATs

My cat is bigger than normal cats and I think she knows it. Every evening I see her on the streets, being alienated by her feline counterparts for her strange size. Living with her isn't bad, considering the circumstances. You certainly get used to it after a while and then you hardly notice that she's five times larger than she should be.
Her diet consists of what you would expect a cat to eat; fish, owls, shepherds, nothing out of the ordinary. But she'll drink nothing but wine.
Oh wait a minute that's not a cat, it's my girlfriend.

Trees and Stuff

The tree had existed forever, which rose a few questions. The man currently asking them was Lance Hoffer, a computer scientist from Detroit in space.
“So how is this possible?” he asked the tree.
“Look, shut up, I've told you and everyone else the answer to that a million times over” spoke the tree in an exasperated voice, ruffling in annoyance..
“No, you said that instead of actually answering the question” Lance corrected.
“I'll tell you what, I'll explain to you how this is at all possible when you tell me the true reason for your questions”
Lance sighed, rolling his eyes.

Hey, you know what?

If it's one thing I've found about making things habits it's that to take any given thing and make it into a habit it has to be somethhing that can be done easily. Blogging giant blocks of fiction isn't easy, especially when you get no views for your efforts.

So here's the plan. From now on I will post on this blog. However it will now be used to post microfiction. And not just any microfiction, microfiction of around 100 words which I like to call micromicrofiction (although the name might be a little generous). This is easy, doable and if someone actually sees it then awesomesauce.

This one's called Humble and Fetching

In a lost clearing in the Thousand-acre Wood, a humble bumble bee said down to drink its tea. It was hard to believe that no-one was as humble as the humble bumble bee. But it was more believable to think that the humble bumble bee's mother would be marginally more humble. But only slightly more humble than the humble bumble bee sitting down to drink its tea. It was eaten by a very fetching cat in a very fetching hat.
“Mrawr” said the cat.
“Roar” said the hat. And that was that. None were quite as fetching as the very fetching cat in the very fetching hat.