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    #11
    I do like this one.

    It reminded me of Dunbar in Catch 22, who attempts to prolong (his perception of) his time on the planet by being as bored as possible.

    I think you'd enjoy it if you haven't already read it.

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      #12
      Cheers MS. Being OCD it occurs to me there is a flaw in my "logic". If the drug had already taken affect he would not have been able to open his eyes. Need to change that bit.
      bloggoth

      If everything isn't black and white, I say, 'Why the hell not?'
      John Wayne (My guru, not to be confused with my beloved prophet Jeremy Clarkson)

      Comment


        #13
        Originally posted by xoggoth View Post
        Cheers MS. Being OCD it occurs to me there is a flaw in my "logic". If the drug had already taken affect he would not have been able to open his eyes. Need to change that bit.
        It is a really good story - the ending is great (I think maybe you sometimes struggle with finishing off?)

        Do you enter competitions? Might be worth polishing and entering (but remove it from here - they often insist they're unpublished)

        Comment


          #14
          You gonna do one? When I started this thread I was hoping it would be a few of us like a few years back. Darmstadt used to write some if I recall.
          bloggoth

          If everything isn't black and white, I say, 'Why the hell not?'
          John Wayne (My guru, not to be confused with my beloved prophet Jeremy Clarkson)

          Comment


            #15
            Will do! But my writing tends to be pretty depressing - yours is much more upbeat. Have an old one that might fit the bill - will dig out.

            Comment


              #16
              Footie frustration

              Women and the world cup. Go together like custard and gravy. Both great, but there’s a time and a place and you really don’t want to mix them up. Take mine - she hasn’t a clue. Just doesn’t get it. When England scored against Sweden, she complained because my cheering woke the baby. She protests when I close the curtains during matches - apparently I should be “enjoying the sunshine”. Not when it reflects off the telly screen I shouldn’t! She complains about the flags on my car. They make her feel stupid. They waste fuel and contribute to global warming. Hang on, wasn’t she all for enjoying the sunshine two minutes ago! You just can’t please some people. But things reached a low point when she sat down to watch Sunday’s match with me. Was pretty surprised and can’t say I was best pleased. Like I said, custard and gravy. Turns out she’d picked Ecuador in her work sweepstake - she actually wanted them to win! She rattled on and on during the match; “Which team is which?” (she asked that twice), “Who’s the one with the ball?” and on it goes. If she’d been watching properly instead of checking facebook or whatever she was doing on her laptop, she might’ve known! I soon switched off to the constant inane babbling. Mmmm. Yes dear. Standard responses. Well, the match ended and she seemed remarkably cheerful considering “her” team had lost. Clearly not a real fan.

              It was a few beers later that the phone rang. “Mr Wilson?” the voice said. “You booked a holiday online with us earlier, and I need a few extra details”. I what?? Morag (did I mention she was Scottish? Explains a lot!) Well Morag grabs the phone out of my hand, “Yes, thank you. No, we don’t need travel insurance” and so on. Holiday? Travel insurance? What the hell is going on? She looks affronted. “The holiday. I asked you about it earlier. You said to go ahead and book it”. I press her on the matter. Apparently “Mmmm” had agreed to two weeks in Florida. “Yes dear” was go ahead and book it. No wonder she seemed so happy. Well, I suppose in the scheme of things two weeks in Florida isn’t such an ordeal. It could even be fun. I roll my eyes and resign myself to it. “Sounds fun,” I force myself to say. “So when are we going?” She hands me the itinerary. 19th August. 19th August!! Doesn't she realise that’s the start of the new season! She’s filing a nail. She just doesn’t get it. Or is she looking just a bit too innocent? It dawns on me. Maybe she gets it all too well...

              Comment


                #17
                Excellent. I bet Mr MS was annoyed. Personally I'd much rather go to Florida than watch boring football, I am obviously not a real man.
                bloggoth

                If everything isn't black and white, I say, 'Why the hell not?'
                John Wayne (My guru, not to be confused with my beloved prophet Jeremy Clarkson)

                Comment


                  #18
                  Hyperanthopomorphism

                  He had seemed a very normal little boy when he was younger. What little boy does not cuddle his teddy bear or other favourite toy, does not talk to it and share his dinner with it?

                  The trouble was, the passing years showed that this very normal phase was not a phase at all for Alan. His parents had started to be concerned during his last year in primary school, when he was still treating his stuffed toys as human beings, like the brothers and sisters he did not have. They had discussed it several times and had never reached any firm conclusions. He was bright and always got excellent school reports, had friends, normal boys’ hobbies and was good at football. But could they be sure it was not some early symptom of a more serious psychological illness?

                  It took a few weeks but their meetings with a psychologist were reassuring. Hyperanthropomorphism, an excessive tendency to treat animals or inanimate objects as human, was a very rare trait but had never been observed to have any associations with more negative psychological conditions; indeed those who had it were often intelligent, imaginative and successful in life. He was right. Alan got good A levels and a first class honours degree. Just eight years after graduation the success of his innovative business enabled him to buy a decent house in the country outright, not many under thirty managed that these days. Mr Toogy and all his little stuffed friends loved it too, most teddy bears would die for a room of their own, a big garden to sit in and massive coddling.

                  But it wasn’t just stuffed toys that Alan cared for, he had involved himself in animal welfare charities for many years. At university, like so many university students, between drinking and sex obviously, he had looked for the meaning of life. The idea of established religions that the universe was created for the benefit of man made no sense to him at all. What would be the point of all the things within it, comets in distant galaxies for example, that had no effect on man whatever? It was clear to him that the main role of living things on Earth was to serve their own species and that man’s current dominance was just a blip in history, no different from that of the dinosaurs.

                  As the years passed, his ideas developed and consolidated. If there was nothing special about man, was there anything special about animals either? He believed there had to a meaning behind everything so why did that distant comet exist if it had no purpose? If it affected nothing else, then the only purpose had to be its own existence. It was not alive but perhaps life was just one version of existence which we see as especially important only because we are biased. And what was so special about the way life propagates? The process of being artificially created by men or animals was as valid a means of reproduction as sex or cellular division. More and more he saw his hyperanthopomorphism as enlightenment, not a condition.

                  As the years went by and his wealth grew he put his ideas into practice. There were plenty of animal charities, what was missing were enough organisations to care for the inanimate objects that humanity treated so badly. Not just stuffed toys like his beloved Mr Toogy but all the many other things, like tools, vehicles and household goods, that men destroy or discard without proper thought to their welfare or how they might suffer in a way we cannot comprehend. He did not see anything wrong with discarding or recycling goods that no longer worked and were not economically repairable, after all, that was only the equivalent of the death that we suffer and is the natural way of the universe but, while they were in good order, they should be used as intended. He did all he could to promote their welfare by setting up free recycling organisations so that unwanted goods could be offered to others who could make good use of them. They could not qualify as charities and appeared to the outside world as useful services to human beings but he and Mr Toogy knew the reality.

                  The decades went by and the second heart attack was fatal. The obituary in the local paper described him as a man who had helped poorer people obtain those things they could not afford to buy. Only Mr Toogy and his other toys, cared for by an understanding nephew as a condition of a substantial inheritance, knew how much he had done for the welfare of manufactured goods. It was a drop in the ocean compared to the cruel wastefulness of men but he had done what he could.

                  The pain had been intense for a while but death had come quickly and Alan had moved towards the light. “Welcome Alan To the place you deserve” said god “for you have done all that can be expected of a mortal man” With senses beyond those of living man he experienced the infinite and beautiful panorama and was aware of the consciousness and living existence of all the things, near and far, that dwelled within it and the equality that existed between them. There were no distinctions here between man and animals, between animate and inanimate. Yet there were very few human beings. God felt his puzzlement and said quietly. “Sadly, no, few humans show kindness towards other forms of existence and most are in another place”

                  He gestured downwards and the light glittered off the almighty’s white casing. Today god was a dishwasher.
                  Last edited by xoggoth; 14 May 2015, 18:25.
                  bloggoth

                  If everything isn't black and white, I say, 'Why the hell not?'
                  John Wayne (My guru, not to be confused with my beloved prophet Jeremy Clarkson)

                  Comment


                    #19
                    PS Like most of my stories the above is a bit autobiographical. I thank tools after using them, always park my van where it has a nice view etc.

                    If anyone wants to join my new "Church of the Universal Soul" in which all animate and inanimate objects are equal under god please PM me. You must be prepared to sign over your wealth for the good of the church community but that is a tiny price to pay for enlightenment. My own enlightened state enables me to communicate with your credit card and it agrees.
                    Last edited by xoggoth; 14 May 2015, 12:28.
                    bloggoth

                    If everything isn't black and white, I say, 'Why the hell not?'
                    John Wayne (My guru, not to be confused with my beloved prophet Jeremy Clarkson)

                    Comment


                      #20
                      Where do I sign up?

                      Your bear changes name during the story - unless there are two bears? My bear was called Teddy. Very original.

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