Nice song. Unrealistic lyrics. But hey. That’s me, innit?
Michael Palin and Eric Idle in a 56 second condensed representation of the way last month went for me.
Quite funny, when it’s happening in a fake BBC butcher’s shop in the 1970s…
October has to be better. It just has to be!
I think Kenickie are one of the great lost bands of the 1990s. Both their albums are filled with spiky, spunky girl-pop, a bit ramshackle but witty and catchy and rousing, like good pop music should be.
This isn’t their best song, but it is the doodoodoo bababa-est and today I am enjoying the non-verbal communication aspect of that because I am a bit sick of words, frankly.
Anyone wants to talk to me today, I think I’ll hit them with a doobydoobydoo and maybe a couple of handclaps and a key change until they either join in or go away.
My three regular readers will have noticed that I am trying to write a story a week (if you’d like to read them all, just click “tiny tales” in the categories menu to the right there). I started doing it to try and encourage myself to regularly write something creative, even if it’s only short. And whatever I write on Thursday night, that’s what I’ll post. Which means quality will vary somewhat. It also means tone will probably vary according to my mood, as I’m not giving myself time to edit or rewrite.
It’s instant storytelling, disposable fiction. It’s laziness, basically.
So some of them might be ok, some might not. Some are funny, some really aren’t. Some of them are coherent, readable etc…
You can’t hit a coconut every time, is what I’m saying. Please do feel free to add comments though, whether you enjoy them or don’t. Give me kudos or a kicking. I’d love to hear from you. Constructive criticism will be gladly welcomed – I’m new to this short story lark.
“We could go you know? Come with me,” he said. “Hawaii. We never could before, but now… honestly, it wouldn’t be easy, but we could do it.”
“No… I don’t know… no. It’s impossible,” she said.
“Impossible? I mean… well, it just isn’t. It’s not Narnia. It’s not even slightly allegorical, it’s totally real. They have flights there and everything.” he said.
She looked at him, eyes glistening with tears.
“It’s impossible,” she said, “because I’m in this hole”
“It’s… yes, you are in a hole,” he said, “But it’s quite a shallow hole.”
He peered down into the hole. She looked back up at him and shook her head sadly.
“I’m in this hole and so we can’t,” she said. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“I could help you out, if you’d like,” he said.
“Out?” she said, incredulous, “You?”
“Well, “ he said, “I mean, I could just sort of reach my hand out and you could hold it and I could just help you out of the hole. It might work.”
“But… What if it didn’t? Or, what if it did? Then what would happen?” she said.
“I can’t honestly say for sure,” he said. “But you’d be out of the hole, at least.”
“I might fall back in,” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “You might.”
“Or a bus might drop on me.”
“I…”
“If I was with you, and out of this hole, so many bad things could happen.” she said.
“Yeah. I’ll admit the bus thing simply never crossed my mind.” he said.
“I’d probably be best just staying in the hole until you’ve gone away,” she said. “In case of buses, or whatever.”
“So you want me to…”
“Or evil squirrels, with throwing knives. They can’t get me in here. Hey! You should go to Hawaii without me,” she said, seemingly brightening a little. “You’ll love it there and you’ll meet lots of great people, and you’ll have fun and all the people you meet will be better than me, because they won’t be in a hole. And you’ll be happier.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” he said. “Do you think that’s true?”
“I love you,” she said. “Goodbye.”
He stared into her eyes, eyes which were once again filling with tears. Tears for whom, he couldn’t say. He looked away, then turned and began to slowly walk away from the hole, in the general direction he imagined might lead to Hawaii. He made it five steps away from the hole before stopping, turning and stepping back again. Now he was crying.
“I can’t leave you,” he said, “This hole, it’s not that deep. And I could get a rope. Or a ladder. I can get a block and tackle. Or balloons and helium. A big plunger. Some kind of lever, just flip you out of there like a, like a pancake, or, I… please, just take my hand.”
He reached his hand into the hole, fingers outstretched. His tears were falling, falling into the hole like rain. She raised her head, looked deep into his eyes, looked down again, looked up once more. She smiled, and he could no longer tell if the tears on her face were from her eyes or his. And…
One hundred years later, they were both dead.
******
The Hole by Harris
more tiny tales
Probably the first time I ever heard of Kurt Vonnegut, and the last time I ever watched a film starring Rodney Dangerfield. Who says the 80s taught us nothing?* Obviously a watershed moment for young Harris, so here it is.
*Nobody, as far as I know.
Ramshackle Charm 