Holiday Request Cancellation Form (623 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.9 on 17 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by orph (View user info) at 2009-04-14 11:16:06 EDT
Kikkoman naturally brewed soy sauce is the gwailo condiment of choice when eating sushi. But the minute I call someone a nip, I'm the racist.
The red morning light rose slowly over the meadows, spreading out like a glowing fan, bringing early shadows to the relatively tended landscape. The scattered hedgerows and collapsing stone fences slice up the fields, creating the straight lines that nature can't quite get the hang of, dividing those that own them from the ones that don't. The sheep cannot tell the difference.
Thin tendrils of smoke are now visible, rising from among the shattered, yet standing sandstone houses of the village nestled in what used to be called the Vale of Evesham. The village had a name once too - Broadway. Yet those who had known this are long gone, and the rusting signposts that remain can no longer be read by those that followed.
The sun is silent. The awesome burning celestial chariot is mute as it's whipped slowly across the sky by Helios, throwing down warmth and light on an indifferent world.
If the gods only live only when they are worshipped, or even known of, then the charioteer and the rest of the Olympic pantheon are long dead. As too are Yahweh, and the god of Mohammed, and the never ending lists of the eastern deities. Mankind know nothing of gods or the supernatural now. In fact, man and his kind do not know much of anything anymore.
It hadn't always been this way of course. Once the globe was dotted and crossed with glass towers and ziggurats of concrete and steel, monuments to man's greatness, only to become follies of his short-sightedness in the end. Such a typical end it was too. An unidentified object streaking towards the eastern seaboard of the old states mistakenly picked up as a nuclear missile. Response in kind kicked off the feared yet anticipated chain reaction of retaliation.
When there was no one left to press any more buttons or flick any further switches, the earth played her final hand, trapping the noxious clouds soaked with radiation beneath her atmosphere, and then returning it to the surface.
But this is not a sad story, or even a story about a post-apocalyptic nuclear winter. I'm not even sure how that all started. The Cotswolds are fine - I repeat - all is fine in the Cotswolds, please stop calling in.
I've got to stop sniffing this Ajax.
Clement moved his thin sagging arse to a slightly less uncomfortable position, which was difficult given that the seat of his straw backed chair had worn almost through. Translucent threads and spider webs were all that stopped him from slipping down and sitting on the rough gravel at the side of the road.
He liked to watch the cars sweep past in colourful noisy blurs of speed and petrol exhaust fumes, spitting up dust or puddle water depending on the weather. Clement had sat by this same roadside for the last twenty three and one half years, and this morning. The little buzz he felt crawling up his spine each time a road-train clattered by almost, but not quite allayed the boredom of doing nothing but sitting at the side of the road watching cars go by.
Little did he realise, that along with the rubbish and fast food wrappers that were whisked and thrown in the wake of the car's passing, little pieces of Clement were ripped from his reality, and thrown through the tawdry barriers of space and time, spawning and colonising the distant planets of other universes.
Perhaps he did know, and had done all along.
Those of you familiar with the stories of King Arthur and Camelot - and I don't mean Disney reproductions or the story outlined in the MPFC Holy Grail movie - but the actual myth of a Roman-based society struggling in the chaos that remained in Britain following the withdrawal of the legions, must also be wondering the same thing I sometimes wonder.
With this story, and given all the characters and happenings that go with it, the question that can be asked is - 'How the fuck can it be so hard to make a movie about this and not fuck it up?'
Whilst I do not know anything about movie making, I think I know that any such movie regarding this subject would be infinitesimally better if it lacked the following items:
- Richard Gere
- A bow and arrow wielding Guinevere
Lists should always have at least three items.
The final topic will cover running in the rain - do you get less wet, or wetter.
User Reviews
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2009-04-17 02:27:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
WE CAN'T SAY 'NIP' ANYMORE????
WHAT ABOUT 'CHINK',CAN WE USE THAT ONE STILLL???????????
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2009-04-15 11:22:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/frumpy
Balls, I thought it meant fat.
Oh orph, it is SOOOOOO good to have you back.
Hot AND talented!
<3 orph!!
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2009-04-15 11:02:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Loved this. Really did.
Even though from memory you're a bit of a gimp.
Frumpy McFrumpalot two below.
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2009-04-15 04:38:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
ive been called lots worse
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2009-04-15 04:37:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'd just been called a frump.
It, apparently, doesn't take much.
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2009-04-15 04:34:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
you wont leave, you were obviously a bit* mad when you posted.
*very
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2009-04-15 04:30:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2009-04-15 09:19:01 BST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2009-04-15 08:08:24 BST (#)
Ranking: 2
You post when I leave?
You fucking git.
:)
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you are still here!
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i know! splendid, isn't it?
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2009-04-15 04:19:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2009-04-15 08:08:24 BST (#)
Ranking: 2
You post when I leave?
You fucking git.
:)
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you are still here!
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2009-04-15 03:08:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You post when I leave?
You fucking git.
:)
Submitted by johnny.b.dumb (user info) at 2009-04-14 20:39:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
tense change in middle of paragraph shows you get lost in your own hyperbole. smoke more, fuck more, eradicate rational thought.
Submitted by LittleMonster (user info) at 2009-04-14 14:40:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good, you're back.
post more.
sgt is right, lovely paragraph.
Submitted by reginajacks (user info) at 2009-04-14 14:09:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
pretty cool
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2009-04-14 12:40:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
ah.
there.
right.
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2009-04-14 12:40:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
hence the file name.
WHERE THE FUCK IS CLOVER?
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2009-04-14 12:39:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
crop rotation I presume
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2009-04-14 11:58:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I know what the fuck just happened there and I'm not telling!
Submitted by SgtHartman (user info) at 2009-04-14 11:24:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"The red morning light rose slowly over the meadows, spreading out like a glowing fan, bringing early shadows to the relatively tended landscape. The scattered hedgerows and collapsing stone fences slice up the fields, creating the straight lines that nature can't quite get the hang of, dividing those that own them from the ones that don't. The sheep cannot tell the difference."
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Awesome paragraph.