Friday, October 28, 2005

Crab with Nine of Spades

Rusty's Story
Yeah...the Card crab was at it again ...winning hands down since early evening...but then the inevitable happened..the barmaid tried to kiss its pointy claw hopin to get a fat tip...but all she got was a fat lip....and the Crab...well all that I can say is didnt hv a nice evening in the end...but I did get to hv a nice juicy dinner !

GPV's Story
It was on his trip to Papeete that it happened,Andrew was sent there by the office to present the 'Hotel Laguna' project that his customer,Mr Shoo Li wanted to built on the island of Morea that can be seen 5 or 6 miles from Tahiti's airport(Faa). The project was turned down and Mr Li left Andrew to call and let his boss learn the bad news. Andrew couln't get himself to pick up the phone and get it over, instead he went to the shore by the lagoon and just as he reached a cement pier to which were tied a couple of small boats it started to rain thick warm drops, he was drenched
in few seconds but stayed on the concrete, watching nothing,doing
nothing except getting wet, his
senses and his brains were turned off.
The showers in south pacific are heavy but most of the time they won't last very long and when the sun comes back steam rise up from the roads and the heat dries the soil in a few minutes, steam was rising from the pier as Andrew came to awareness, there was no one around when he decided to go and check out of his hotel.As he walked,his eyes to the ground, he saw the red crab, this one came on shore to look for something to eat
but what he was holding in his right claw wasn't really edible,a nine of spade, bad luck "just like me" thought the man. The crab didn't move away when Andrew picked him up and he didn't let go of the card, such character he showed by holding on to his find that the man smiled and let him down on the ground.
He walked to the airport and picked up a public phone and postponing the call to his boss decided to call Mr Li for the last time--Li answered at once-"Shoo Li speaking"--"Oh Mr Li, it's Andrew
Olson again"--"Yes Olson, what do you want?"--"Well Mr Li, I've just met this Australian gentlemen who's interested in our project and since it was meant for you I just want to make sure it doesn't interest you before I sign up with him, courtesy you know"--"Australian? what's his name?"--"Crab,Mr Li, Spade Crab and guess where he wants to build..."--"Now,Mr Olson,this is my project and I'll sue you to your last dollar if you let it go to that....Crab,you hear me?"--"Oh yes Mr Li..but"--"You come to my room at the Taraoa Hotel right now,
Olson, drop that Crab".
Thanks for the tip old red crab,
Yes never let go !!!

Lula's Story
It is a crab in the photo, but what's the rules? Don't imagination rule. So just imagine that it is a spider as I did when I thought of this little story:

The fast flexible fingers of the magician weaves it's daring deceptive web,
as he studies his admiring audiance with wishes of one to woo into bed.
And when he percieves that perky prey all wide eyed and tassle tailed,
he now knows that it's just a mere moment until he has the naivete nailed.
So the fly becomes intangled in all his elaberate schemes to trap,
And he thinks he has the victim just as easy as a hocus pocus snap.
She enters innocently into his room with expectation of further illusional delight,
to dauntingly discover high hopes and dashing dreams are but a fantasy flight.
No, she is not that timid tiny foolish fly he hopes he has in his enchanting clinch,
for she turns him into a spineless noodle, you see, she is a wilely wicked witch!

Dddragon's Story
Daniel looked about nervously as he entered the tarot card reader's tent. What had possessed him to do this? Was his life so messed up that he had come to this?

Would she turn over the Lover's Card? Or the Death Card?

Oh, no ... it was worse!

The Crab Card!!

Mushroom's Story
The Great Canceeri was a hit at parties. No one else had a crab that could do the old "pick a card, any card, then put it back in the deck" trick so well. For that matter, no one else had a crab, let alone one that did parlor magic. Naysayers tried to figure out how he did it, but none of their methods produced any evidence the crab had cheated or marked the cards somehow. Canceeri's human would tell his friends to take a card from the deck on the table, look at it, then put it back in the deck -- some even shuffled the deck for good measure -- and then he'd put Canceeri down on the table and he'd walk sideways up to the deck, nudge a few cards with his claw, then hold up the person's card, leaving everyone around going "whoa!" And like any good magician, The Great Canceeri never revealed how he did it.

Canceeri and his person had a great time and had plenty of free drinks courtesy of bar bets, but all the human's friends and nearby strangers reaches saturation with seeing the trick. It had lost its appeal. Two appearances on the late night talkshows were quite enough for Hollywood too. The human was getting hungry. By this time Canceeri had grown in size as well as fame, so the human started a large pot of water boiling on the stove, and Canceeri's final trick was to vanish.

Jamie Dawn's Story
Just before David Blaine (the street magician) died, he said, "I will be reincarnated. Look for me by the boardwalk."
"How will I find you?" asked his friend, Joe.
"You'll know it's me."

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Mushroom's Story

Note from Indeterminacy: This weekend's set of stories is dedicated to faithful Indeterminacy reader, Mushroom.

Jamie Dawn's Story
Curiosity became too much for Candace, so she plucked a large mushroom from the earth.
She'd been told that those mushrooms were deadly for some and magical for others, and she'd never had the courage to eat one until now. Her life had been such a mess, and she was willing to take the risk in the hopes of having some magic enter her awful world.
It tasted neutral, very bland in fact, and she finished every last morsel, hands trembling with the unknown.

Mrs. Weirsdo's Story
When Hurricane Bob was striking the East Coast, my friend took me to his cabin in VA to get away from it all. Back then I wore skirts so short I didn't like to get out of the car in the New Jersey Turnpike service plazas with all that wind.
The cabin was rural, though you could see three smoke stacks and a minor highway from the porch. Everything was wood, so if you spilled something you just wiped it up. My friend's parents kept bees, so there was always great honey, and usually some to take home. And you were supposed to throw your beer cans off the porch, because every weekend whoever was there crushed them on the big stump in front of the house and took them to recycle.
But you didn't have to have beer, as there was also a selection of liqueurs. I remember one trip, I don't know if it was this one or not, having kirsch and lying back on the redneck porch to watch a spectacular meteor shower.
This trip we did some magic mushrooms--not too many, but enough for a buzz--and drove to the local Civil War battlefield around sunset. Because of Hurricane Bob, clouds at different levels of sky were blowing in opposite directions, and at that hour they were all pink and purple and greyish blue.
Again, I don't remember if it was that trip or not that the drummer from Minor Threat came out hawking his "Ed Meese is a Pig" t-shirts, or that trip or not when we ate a stewed rabbit full of buckshot that the neighbors brought by, but at that place, you could always expect the extraordinary.

GPV's Story
Gohartix,walking slowly through the forest,eyes to the ground, scanning inch by inch the floor of the celtic woods near his home,was praying the gods to find the perfect fly-killer mushroom.Oak trees,turning to yellow,were spilling their seeds among falling leaves and squirrels looked down on the young celt warrior whose attention kept him bent forward scrutinizing underneath the bushes.
Fly-killers are not hard to find since most of the times their bright red color can be seen from far but Go was looking for a special kind of fly-killer and the robe of that one was a bit less flashy;something like the color of salmon's flesh.
After long moments of non-frutuous
searching Go straightened himself,holding his back and moaning relief when stretching sore limbs.Relaxing some he breathed deep,inhaling the fresh scent of humid moss,it was his first day as a senior warrior and before the chief gives him his long blade he had to find his mad-maker mushroom;well prepared by the druids it would carry him through days during battles.As he turned around,eyes level, he saw what he was looking for few steps away,he smiled with glee for it was a good omen to find the fly-killer on the first day of manhood.
High in the sky an hawk yelled:
Eeeeeeeekkka!!!-Real good omen.

Doug's Story
Dreaming, daydreaming and telling fables to herself she did almost nothing and went almost nowhere except into the forest where she now lies, nearly forgotten in a grave unmarked by the hands of men.

Scottish Toodler's Story
If you listen closely you can hear our musical mushroom Trio singing our new hit song: "Five more years til fungus rule the world/rule the world/ rule the world/ five more years til fungus rule the world/ better look out then!"

My Story
Bill had a strange dream, bursts of red and yellow light flashing all around him. When he awoke he was a mushroom in a pleasant patch of soil, near a tree and a running brook. Two lady mushrooms sprang up beside him, beginning a conversation.

"You can be very proud," they told him in unison.

"But why? But what?" he answered, naturally disorientated by the transformation.

"You're bright and brilliant and happy birthday," their voices came, almost a song.

"It's my birthday," he repeated slowly, to see if it might mean anything to him.

"You've just joined us in the Bohemian forest." Their voices again, reciting, as a classroom of children might with one voice tell their teacher, "One plus one is two."

"I've always wanted to have a Slavic soul."

"And now you're part of the collective."

"I'll have ideas! I'll be inspired!"

"If you don't and you aren't, we'll assist!"

He closed his eyes and mused. Under the congenial auspices of the femmes a la fungi he felt inspired. He had ideas. Fairy tales flashed before him. Bouncing and rolling notions swirled into imagery unimagined in his usual trains of thought. Ideas couldn't rush in fast enough before other ideas pounced upon them, merging into a new, ever-evolving inspiration.

"Eureka!" he cried in a sort of mental orgasm of aesthetic certainty. The girl mushrooms applauded. The idea, the forest, and his existence as a Slavic mushroom were the thoughts immortalized in his mind as the Czech mycologist harvested him for his fungi stew, over which he was certain to dream up some great new work of art.

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Tina Dupuy

Tina Dupuy (one of the funniest ladies in the world) contributed this photo. Thanks Tina!

Scottish Toodler's Story
I had for many years been trying to escape the life cycle I had been forced into. Sometimes, when one is able to be exceptionally forgiving or exceptionally helpful, one's life cycle is reassigned. This was my case.

I had at one time been an ordinary dog, and I had loved my master and mistress very much. Like all dogs I did not know anything about their lives or their "goodness" beyond what was extended to me.

I had been the last dog that the mistress has held before she swallowed her fateful pills, and the last dog that the master had ruffled the fur of, and then smoothed back into place a few times. I'd wanted to rest my head against the master's knee, but he'd pushed me away, and then shot himself. He did not have the patience of my mistress to wait for the pills to do their work.

Later, some of us had been fostered, but we were always moving and eventually I died of dehydration, after one of my later adopted owners had been executed and never returned to his home. It was at that time that I was summoned to the on-going Tribunal of my mistress.

Almost nothing had been left of my first master and mistress that could be redeemed. Even the normally neutral Tribunal had been unable to comprehend the atrocities my owners had unleashed upon the earth, and how deeply the master had altered humanity.

In fact, the only thing that the Tribunal could find on which to try either of them was their affection for my species. And because I had been the last one they had touched, I had been summoned from my sweet and undisturbed sleep.

I'd spent the next two of my lifetimes as one of two rottweilers owned by a nice (non-practicing) Jewish couple in North America. The other rottweiler was my former mistress. Next I accompanied her as one of two shepard dogs owned by a half Turkish, half german, lesbian living just outside of Berlin. And so on, and so forth.

Today, I had finally made my escape. This couple, quite bland in appearance, are intellectuals and avid students of the Holocaust. Because they bear such a horror not just of the master, but of the mistress also, she must suffer their affection as the lightest of her many eternal sentences.

I, however, having learned her true nature, have asked the Tribunal on each occasion of my death, to release me from this contract. I have asked to return to the loyal and loving ignorance of a regular dog. Each time I have been refused.

Caught again, I can only hope my story will inspire other canine's to love more wisely and not as well. Not just for being bound to such a mistress beyond one lifetime, but also, because I cannot bear the little sweaters the woman keeps knitting for me. This is the only photograph of me where I am not wearing one, and only because I'd been able to escape. Alas, not far enough...My torture as Eva Braun's companion continues.


Mushroom's Story
Buster was a lucky pup, sure, but cleaning his tracheotomy required two people -- one to hold his head up and body still, and another to do the work. His barks were almost comical.

Doug's Story
Arnie the 2x4 had lain on a lot of sidewalks. He'd fallen off any number of shabby constructions, most recently the scaffold the window washer was standing on. It was a life of endless slapstick comedy and he wouldn't have traded it for anything. As the young couple made jokes at the expense of the fallen corpse and scratched their dog, Arnie wondered where next a man would call on him for support.

Sylphidine's Story
Amigo was no ordinary dog. Even as a puppy it was clear that he wasn't like the other dogs, but it took some time before he was able to use his special powers. It wasn't easy living with these gifts, nevertheless he was chosen and he was conscious of the utmost importance of his task. But he still considered it unfair that he had to save the world in secret - Superman, Batman, even Underdog all had their costumes and were recognized and celebrated as superheros. The only recognition he received was for fetching sticks. The hugs from Sally & Billy were pleasant, but the fact that he just destroyed a fleet of invading aliens from outer space with his laser eyes, thereby saving the world from Armaggedon, remained one of the secrets that he had to live with in his modesty. Who says that the life of a superhero has to be glamerous? That only happens in movies.

My Story
The new reality sitcom was one of those brilliant ideas Tina thought up in her sleep. She dangled dozens of miniature Webcams from a fleet of helium-filed balloons that followed her around wherever she went. She brought her boyfriend Brian along as a living laugh track so that the comically-challenged would know when to laugh. Her dog Clyde played straight man, though he was quite a sit-up comedian in his private life. He sometimes disappeared for days on end, doing shows at pounds and other benefits, and occasionally rescuing cats trapped in trees, just like his hero Lassi would have done. Apart from being funny, the show had everything that an artfully lived real life could offer: drama, love, poignancy and great sex. It won dozens of Emmys, which Clyde invariably buried in Tina's back yard. The series was cancelled 11 seasons into its run, after global warming popped all the balloons. That's 77 in dog years.