Having made the most of the electric wheelchair he was given by his Grandmother, John had subconsciously elected to burn it along with himself in the woods on Sunday. Before that though, he needed to find a way to get there.
You make no sense. I have raped a pig but did not eat it. I think you ate that one.
Spider Pt 1.
Sat on my soft and luxurious toadstool among the phosphorescent glow of the forest at twilight contemplating my evening’s sustenance, I caught glimpse of a shadow amongst the dappled shades thrust upon me by the trees above. It was a beautiful and damp autumnal evening, up until a certain point I felt serene and secure within my sanctuary. “Hello.” A deep velvety voice. The hairs on the back of my...
Carnage. FIN. Not really. But carnage it was. It’s a bit like a faux glam middleclass music festival. Actually, that’s a lie, it’s not thinking about it; It’s as diametrically opposed as a small blissfully eyed Labrador pup with an amorous nature and the cold calculated machinations of a chomping spunky lawnmower wearing a hairy but the wanton recklessness of those who participate is the common...
Most of his life, the Red Mischief has lived in the clouds, woo-ing the rays of sun and frolicking with the high-soaring birds and sprites that dwell therein. Since he was young, he has been obsessed with catching rainbows. He now has a collection of thousands of rainbows which he keeps as pets, feeding them on pure thoughts and smiles which keep them happy. He has many different types of...
As if by a shear fluke in the planetary alignment, a slight shift in the atmospheric pressure, the manifestation of another wormhole in space, or simply because two people had sinful and unhealthy sex, Mr Chadney Twatter was born. Actually, it wasn’t this at all. Mr Chadney Twatter was born of sheep. It was around the year 1873 although no-one can verify the actual date. A slimy slippery...
The fetid hole from which the mustard yellow frown appeared from has also housed a giant house spider called Mr. Johnson who, as legend has it could predict the dreams of human children many hours before they fell asleep. He would then whisper into their ear as they dozed and fill their heads full of drizzly nonsense. He wore a silk paisley robe and was partial to a cigar and brandy. He is dead...
I’ve often thought that if you were able to see inside a salmon that you’d find the workings of a clock, a sophisticated and intricate cog system that enables the fish to relentlessly power itself upstream. At the forefront there is a tiny little salmon driving via telepathy, captured by an improvised helmet that transmits its thoughts. The cogs are made from the bones of ancestral...
There is a place I know where the earth is made from hardened candy floss, the trees taste like nougat and the rivers flow with rich neon coloured love. The inhabitants are edible although not particularly nourishing and too small to fill you up anyway. The clouds are made from your laughter, they are also bi-sexual and the sky is a shade of pinky russett. The warm air cuddles you...
And then the lonely mouth with translucent teeth and grade ‘A’ dental records slipped down the alley like mercury into the night. it wasn’t his fault, he was misunderstood. Catapulted into solitude by the very faces that once understood the need for a perfect mouth; his cherry red lips flapping slightly in the wind he contemplated his own existence. “One day,” he...
Apparently giraffes are carnivores and feared amongst the greatest predatory animals. It seems that inside the twenty six ravenous stomachs of the giraffe there is a mincing machine operated by a small well dressed inuit who takes charge of the digestion. When the giraffe expels the minced animal you are left with a perfectly edible sausage. This is eaten by hungry, large mouthed butterflies...