Drink me

August 14, 2010

Head pounding Steve wandered into the kitchen looking for a coffee, but expecting a fight. However Jen was nowhere to be seen. Last night they had been drinking, then brawling, and he had ended up sleeping on the couch.

On the table was a glass of juice accompanied by a note in Jen’s familiar scrawl; ‘Drink Me’. Steve swigged it down wincing at the bitter taste.

The room swam.

As the neurotoxins entered his bloodstream Steve felt his chest contract, squeezing the breath out of him. He slumped to the floor.

Under the table was a cup-cake labelled ‘Eat Me’.


The Romantic

March 20, 2010

Spencer was a hopeless romantic. His easy charm and deep brown eyes, which hinted misleadingly at hidden depths, had broken hearts across the country. From Beth the dental assistant in Charlotte to Cindy the attorney in Philadelphia.

Each and every romance was passionate, all-consuming and ultimately short-lived. What started with flowers and poetry ended with accusations and unreturned phone calls.

It was not as though he intended to be a Casanova, but after yet another angry break-up he wondered if love could ever last forever. That was until he met Dr Julia Spires owner of the Portland Institute of Cryogenics.


March 6, 2010

General Richards strode into the control room where klaxons wailed and alerts flashed on a wall of monitors.

‘What’s the problem Lieutenant?’ he barked.

‘It’s the telemetry, Sir. The subject is recording increased levels of serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine. His heart rate and blood pressure have gone through the roof,’ replied a young officer.

Richards scowled, ‘What about brain activity?’

‘His anterior-temporal lobe just lit up like Christmas tree,’ the lieutenant looked up, visibly shaken. ‘Do you know what this means?’

‘Indeed I do,’ the general grabbed the nearest phone. ‘Get me the Pentagon immediately… the President is in love!’


February 13, 2010

As shadows lengthened across the studio Pygmalion knelt and wept. His tears splashed to the ground amid the dust and debris that had accumulated during his labours of the last three years.

A broken man he beheld his creation. Galatea was perfection, the purest representation of femininity, without whom his life was void.

Merciful Venus took pity upon the wretched sculptor.

Lying prostrate he felt a gentle touch and looked up into beloved’s face. She was as beautiful in life as in marble; from her long flowing antenna and delicate vestigial wings to her exquisite proboscis. She transfixed him completely.

[First posted Tue Aug 25, 2009]

On Diplopoda Beach [part 2]

February 13, 2010

Walking along the shore three years after Mike asked me to marry him it is clear that the beach has not changed, but that we have. Ironically everything that made it work in the beginning now comes between us.

It has got so bad that I do not think that Mike can even watch me eat. Not that he would admit it. And that is why I despise him, his cowardice.

“It’s over” I say. Mike looks at me with tears in his eyes, he knows it too.

After I finish eating his corpse I walk back to the car.

[First posted Sun Jul 05, 2009]

On Diplopoda Beach

February 13, 2010

I sit in the shade of a palm trying to light a campfire with three matches and a screwed up copy of The Daily Mail.

I look up to see the girl emerging from the breakers. She has been diving for shellfish to wrap in palm leaves and bake on the fire. Removing her mask she shakes loose long black hair across her pale shoulders. She wears a stunning white two piece. Her figure is full and what legs! So many legs.

‘Stop staring at my tits asshole,’ she shouts snapping her mandibles coquettishly.

My God, I love this girl.

[First posted Mon Jun 29, 2009]


February 13, 2010

I cross the cafeteria and find a seat close to the object of my affections. My heart races; could the most popular girl in school fall for the king of the chess club, a nerd like me?

I feel a peculiar sensation on my lip. Oh crap, a nosebleed! I clutch my nose, hoping against hope that nobody has seen.

Everybody is looking, not at me, but at the table. I look down and see blood splattered to spell the mocking message:


I am betrayed by my body! The room erupts, and I flee fighting back tears.

[First posted Sat May 09, 2009]