Thursday, 19 June 2014

Why Does This Mocking Bird Kill Herself?

The Metamorphosis of Elissa Brown (currently available on Amazon http://amzn.to/1jBjuSV)

Melanie laughed gently at this last remark. As she threw her head back a little she glanced off Elissa’s shoulder. Elissa shivered, though it was certainly not cold. ‘Well, I better get back before the lunch break is over.’ She stood, retrieving her bag again. At the doorway she stopped, looked back and said, ‘You’re welcome to join us?’
Melanie did not reply. She did not look round but sat still as stone staring out over the low wall that gave way to the sheer cliff face. The wind picked up a little and just as Elissa thought to go, Melanie stood up and, in one swift movement stepped towards the wall, clambered onto it and stood tall and straight, arms outstretched.
Elissa’s heart leapt into her throat in an instance. Surely, Melanie did not intend to… Her internal thought stopped at the urgency, for Melanie was indeed leaning forward, bracing herself against the sudden stiff gale.
‘What are you doing?’ shrieked Elissa darting forward to pull the girl back. Her long fingers clutched at air. Melanie leapt from the wall, leapt forcefully so that she seemed to momentarily fly. She uttered something that was whisked away by the wind and was gone.
Elissa stared, rigid with shock, leaning over the battlement. The figure of Melanie Smythe, resembling a crumpled canary, was just discernable in the mud below. The bent pages of her book ‘To Kill a Mocking Bird’ fluttered like trembling angel wings on the flagstones by Elissa’s feet.

Why does this apparently contented teenager suddenly challenge the wind and plummet to her death? This signifies the start of a series of terrifying events for Elissa Brown...

Read more on Amazon  http://amzn.to/1jBjuSV


Thursday, 12 June 2014

To Spoon or not to Spoon

I'm guessing that the term to 'spoon' someone is derived from actual spoons. Being of the same shape a spoon will naturally fit snugly into another spoon rather like a person snuggling up to curl around their significant other like two spoons, a perfect fit.

If it is derived from cutlery then my husband and I are a knife and fork. 

For me there are a number of issues with spooning.

If you are the Spoon-er you will be faced with the problem of what to do with your arm. The free arm curls about your lover quite happily but, unless the other arm can be unscrewed and left on the side, it has nowhere to rest comfortably. It can go under your partner's neck but there will come a moment when it's necessary to try to extract this arm without waking your slumbering partner. You can squeeze this arm down your side and get pins and needles or you can put it in the really uncomfortable position above your head without jabbing your spouse with your elbow.

Should you be spooning someone with wind then there will be a moment when they fart in your lap and the stench ripples up between your pressed bodies to be released up your nostrils.

If you are the spoon-ee and like me have long hair you will find that your lovely curly tresses, much admired during the day become a choking hazard when spooning at night.

Generally humans do not fit together like spoons. It's also a safety hazard. Valuable seconds could be wasted disentangling ourselves if there were a fire or intruder in the middle of the night. 

It's like being clamped in a hot, sweaty human vice. 

Before marriage I spent most of my life being free to sleep as I choose and never felt the urge to wrap myself in a heavy, human sized teddy bear.

For me, the answer would definitely be not to spoon or as a compromise, set a time limit to finish spooning before pins and needles, sleep or leg cramps set in. 




Thursday, 5 June 2014

Incy Wincy can f**k off

A vivid imagination is not always a good thing...

Opened car door today to reveal a huge nest of baby spiders covering a vast majority of the interior. Shat my pants and swept them off with tissue and tried to release them into a nearby hedge. Job done...or was it?

For the rest of the day my mind repeatedly wheeled around the following ideas;

1) A host of spiders witnessed my clumsy attempt to 're-home' their next generation and mistook it as an attempt at mass annihilation and were now plotting their revenge. I pictured a multitude of fat, hairy Arachnida descending en masse to crawl on me, taunt me with their eight beady eyes and generally nest in all my nooks and crannies ready to leap out at me.

2) I'm convinced baby spiders are now nesting on my person. They will crawl up my nasal passage into my brain where they will make a web, grow fat and encourage flies up my nose to feast on. The result will be either madness induced by the incessant crawling sensations in my skull or a whole nest of baby spiders being born in my head and swarming out of every orifice in divine retribution.

Must go - after my tenth shower I intend to seal myself in cling film and hide in a cupboard with an industrial sized can of bug spray.

'Incy wincy spider climbed up my snotty nose,
Down came a sneeze and out the f**cker goes,
But this little beastie was such a frigging pain,
And promptly turned around to climb up my nose again.'

I may be found singing the above while rocking back and forth.