Horror Sleaze Trash: Prose in Poor Taste
Horror Sleaze Trash: Prose in Poor Taste has finally arrived!This anthology includes over seventy pieces of short and flash fiction submitted to Horror, Sleaze and Trash over the years, from inception to this present day. There is no shortage of great talent to be found between these covers (50+ authors!), and it was my distinct privilege to compile it together.
Get the paperback here, entering your discount code (KCNJDZGB) for half off the list price.
And, as with all HST titles, the free ebook is available here.
VIVA LA HST!!!
SaySix wrote: "Pretty fucking good if you can avoid getting slimed"No avoiding that, I'm afraid — everything HST comes with a 100% slime-back guarantee!
Arthur wrote; "No avoiding that, I'm afraid — everything HST comes with a 100% slime-back guarantee! "
How about a warning label on 5-6 of them.
How about a warning label on 5-6 of them.
WassilyF wrote: "Thing got wiped. Just as well. Forgot it. In the overall spirit of things; up India's ass."
Oh my gosh, I'm laughing so hard.
My favorite kind of shoutout.<3
WassilyF wrote: "UP YOURS AND HACKLE'S SIMULTANEOUSLY. Means at the same time, DOODOODOODOO. "FUCK YOU.
Wainscot, I understand you're at work on Genevieve 2. Seeing as how NO ONE will ever read A SINGLE WORD of either Genevieve 1 or Genevieve 2, I was thinking maybe you should simplify things by renaming these books (and any other future Genevieve installments) "Genevieve Zero." The "Zero," of course, would signify the total numer of words that anyone will ever read of said books, while simultaneously providing an approximate but accurate measurement of the overall literary merit of the books. Just a thought.Oh and one more thing....FUUUUUUCK YOOOUUUU, DWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD
Why I never! The sheer incivilty! And bad language to boot! Humph! >:/
WassilyF wrote: "India wrotel "Oh my gosh, I'm laughing so hard.My favorite kind of shoutout.<3 "
I must confess that the inspiration was an obscenity you wrote. Thank you."
I'm so flattered haha.
WassilyF wrote: "Arthur Graham, author of I Ate My Own Ass"C'mon, I'm not THAT flexible...
WassilyF wrote: "Arthur is dead. Yeah, he just told me."Couldn't hurt my book sales...
WassilyF wrote: "May a chicken kick you both with its left leg. You'll know what that means and it'll give Hackle the plot for another shithole Bizarro book."They do say that all the best ideas come from chickens.
Here we go again. It's such a chore to establish an audience.
I know why I post on this thread. It gives me ideas. No shit. Somebody other than me said something interesting in May. I think it was an accident; but whatever So, for today I've removed the intellectual stuff about climbing dogs and replace it with nonsense.
Various, Even Less Focussed Errata
1) Is Pythy worth all the hype; especially considering that his big deal was a regurgitation of both the Egyptians and Babylonians?
2) The squaring of triangular properties sounds like a crime against nature, even if he only did it three times.
3) Is Percy Sledge really Sister’s brother?
4) To carry a grudge is a methodology consistent with the culmination of full blown misanthropy. The seeming contradiction is that to carry such a burden relieves one of it.
5) When will the knight stop obsessing about protecting the queen? She’s quite a big girl and is capable of taking care of herself once she starts moving. Maybe then the knight could occupy the king’s square. I did say maybe.
6) David Foster Wallace would have produced a short circuit; the equivalent of an aneurysm in a human; in AlphaGo had he even a fleeting interest in playing baby games.
7) “It is written, so it shall be done.” That is Yul Brynner’s drunken seven time misreading of his cue card in “Pharaoh’s Plight,” perhaps a function of his fascination with his own slit briefs. But, just to be on the safe side. I’m a billionaire. I’m a billionaire. I’m a billionaire.
The above is from an unfortunate section of one of Genevieve's old books. It would have been published by one of the five viewer low end on-line shit zines if it was today.
Fucca, fucca you graham-hackle doo doo face. May the hairy green things you extract from your big noses turn into the non-discriminating blob. Yeah, you can make another shit bizarro book out of that. I can't be bothered.
Various, Even Less Focussed Errata
1) Is Pythy worth all the hype; especially considering that his big deal was a regurgitation of both the Egyptians and Babylonians?
2) The squaring of triangular properties sounds like a crime against nature, even if he only did it three times.
3) Is Percy Sledge really Sister’s brother?
4) To carry a grudge is a methodology consistent with the culmination of full blown misanthropy. The seeming contradiction is that to carry such a burden relieves one of it.
5) When will the knight stop obsessing about protecting the queen? She’s quite a big girl and is capable of taking care of herself once she starts moving. Maybe then the knight could occupy the king’s square. I did say maybe.
6) David Foster Wallace would have produced a short circuit; the equivalent of an aneurysm in a human; in AlphaGo had he even a fleeting interest in playing baby games.
7) “It is written, so it shall be done.” That is Yul Brynner’s drunken seven time misreading of his cue card in “Pharaoh’s Plight,” perhaps a function of his fascination with his own slit briefs. But, just to be on the safe side. I’m a billionaire. I’m a billionaire. I’m a billionaire.
The above is from an unfortunate section of one of Genevieve's old books. It would have been published by one of the five viewer low end on-line shit zines if it was today.
Fucca, fucca you graham-hackle doo doo face. May the hairy green things you extract from your big noses turn into the non-discriminating blob. Yeah, you can make another shit bizarro book out of that. I can't be bothered.
MarioD wrote: "It would have been published by one of the five viewer low end on-line shit zines if it was today."That's "five-viewer low-end online shit zines" to you, Buster Brown!
Ah, back in the land of the free.
"Yes me friend, me friend;
dem set me free again."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGZo2...
This is early Marley.
That fuggin Douglas. If he spent as much time writing as he does deleting me; constipated bastard might put out a new book with more than 100 pages once every two years.
"Yes me friend, me friend;
dem set me free again."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGZo2...
This is early Marley.
That fuggin Douglas. If he spent as much time writing as he does deleting me; constipated bastard might put out a new book with more than 100 pages once every two years.
Arthur wroye; "That's "five-viewer low-end online shit zines" to you, Buster Brown! "
Yeah, I know that ................. mostly. I was just being petty rebellious. It's catchy around here.
Yeah, I know that ................. mostly. I was just being petty rebellious. It's catchy around here.
"Any trick in the book now baby; all that I can find.
............................................................................................
I'll pick up your hand and slowly blow your little mind."
The writer called it a love song.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9zxj...
............................................................................................
I'll pick up your hand and slowly blow your little mind."
The writer called it a love song.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9zxj...
"I don't want to scare you, but I can very clearly see you dying nobly, one way or another, for some highly unworthy cause."
"The law of the jungle and the sea are your only teachers."
I put this here for Douglas. It's been posted before but the poor boy must have some of this ADD shit or problems with comprehension.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nP85U...
I put this here for Douglas. It's been posted before but the poor boy must have some of this ADD shit or problems with comprehension.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nP85U...
Some still operate like an on-off switch, capable of yes-no decisions. My dog exceeded this. Since about 1870 there have been something called diodes, which can replace them; however the diodes are more expensive for cheap people. We're actually up to hexodes now.
SO SHOVE ONE UP YOUR ASS AND BE CHARGED YOU COMMUNIST BUTTFUCKERS.
SO SHOVE ONE UP YOUR ASS AND BE CHARGED YOU COMMUNIST BUTTFUCKERS.
MarioD wrote: "SHOVE ONE UP YOUR ASS YOU COMMUNIST BUTTFUCKERS"GO TO HELL AND DIE
Arthur wrote: "MarioD wrote: "SHOVE ONE UP YOUR ASS YOU COMMUNIST BUTTFUCKERS"GO TO HELL AND DIE"
What if COMMUNIST BUTTFUCKERS are my oddly specific kink..?
India wrote: "What if COMMUNIST BUTTFUCKERS are my oddly specific kink..?"Communist buttfuckers believe in "from each according to their ability (to buttfuck), to each according to their need (for buttfucking)."
Arthur wrote: "Communist buttfuckers believe in "from each according to their ability (to buttfuck), to each according to their need (for buttfucking)."Sign me up.
Arthur wrote; "GO TO HELL AND DIE."
That strikes me as rather severe. And if I did that, who would then draw attention to your blog and books? Hackle? Fageddaboutit.
I mean, you're becoming quite contrary. A while back you said that to five star one's own books, was a sign of a shithead writer. Now, you're five starring all of your own. Yeah, I know that they are compilations of many, and that the other ones make them better than the crap you (and Hackle) write; but still you have your name on them.
So, since you obviously say one thing and do another; why should any non-retard pay any attention to you? Disgusting lust?
BTW, for whatever it's worth, I find this book a pretty good snack. Most of the stories are quite fine, and if they're not they're over soon enough. It would get five stars if not for the crap you and Hackle put in there.
Ah, I guess it could be worse. At least it didn't have that surprise butt fuck story called the Leprechaun. It was no surprise whatsoever that you CHOSE to SHOVE ONE UP YOUR ASS.
And then another, and then another, and then another .............
That strikes me as rather severe. And if I did that, who would then draw attention to your blog and books? Hackle? Fageddaboutit.
I mean, you're becoming quite contrary. A while back you said that to five star one's own books, was a sign of a shithead writer. Now, you're five starring all of your own. Yeah, I know that they are compilations of many, and that the other ones make them better than the crap you (and Hackle) write; but still you have your name on them.
So, since you obviously say one thing and do another; why should any non-retard pay any attention to you? Disgusting lust?
BTW, for whatever it's worth, I find this book a pretty good snack. Most of the stories are quite fine, and if they're not they're over soon enough. It would get five stars if not for the crap you and Hackle put in there.
Ah, I guess it could be worse. At least it didn't have that surprise butt fuck story called the Leprechaun. It was no surprise whatsoever that you CHOSE to SHOVE ONE UP YOUR ASS.
And then another, and then another, and then another .............
India wrote; "What if COMMUNIST BUTTFUCKERS are my oddly specific kink..?"
Nothing I can think of. I cast no aspersions; just try to say the unbiased truth. In your case I am still not clear if you are saying that you are a communist butt fucker or if you are attracted to them.
And I don't care either way. It's just a matter of that when I get to the bottom of this, I'll write a non-judgemental, descriptive book about it.
Nothing I can think of. I cast no aspersions; just try to say the unbiased truth. In your case I am still not clear if you are saying that you are a communist butt fucker or if you are attracted to them.
And I don't care either way. It's just a matter of that when I get to the bottom of this, I'll write a non-judgemental, descriptive book about it.
India said; "Sign me up"
For what, specifically? The Millennial induced definitions have created a myriad of tiny pigeon holes.
Never mind. That's between you and Arthur in the absence of one of those things which stand at attention.
For what, specifically? The Millennial induced definitions have created a myriad of tiny pigeon holes.
Never mind. That's between you and Arthur in the absence of one of those things which stand at attention.
If any of the aforementioned was unclear, you would be correct in distilling it down to "ARTHUR FUCKS DOUGLAS IN HIS CRACK ASS HEAD, OR VICE-VERSA."
MarioD wrote: "Arthur wrote; "GO TO HELL AND DIE."That strikes me as rather severe."
MAYBE JUST GO TO WALMART THEN
Arthur wrote; "MAYBE JUST GO TO WALMART THEN"
Thanks, but between the two I'll opt for the "hell and die" thing as I've done half of that already. Besides, Hackle got that schizz-up-the-nose greeter's job there; and just seeing him upsets any sense of aestheticism I may have for days.
I guess the bat finally kicked it; but I wish Walmart's "Human Resources" department held out for one. Job market sucks here. They must have modified the app as to not discriminate against mental defectives.
Thanks, but between the two I'll opt for the "hell and die" thing as I've done half of that already. Besides, Hackle got that schizz-up-the-nose greeter's job there; and just seeing him upsets any sense of aestheticism I may have for days.
I guess the bat finally kicked it; but I wish Walmart's "Human Resources" department held out for one. Job market sucks here. They must have modified the app as to not discriminate against mental defectives.
In your description of this compilation you wrote; "50+ authors!" I'd like to inquire as to whether they are codgers; and if so are they on AARP's mailing list. This month they commemorated the 50th anniversary of the summer of love; mentioning how this was not just one year, but a generality; until the Millennials came along and fucked everything up.
Da fackle tee say it no see no papers fo this Rugless Jackle; an it neva wen no skool. Da fugless wacko be copyin' buks by Fats Mackerel an bein' stoopid on dat YouTube shizz.
Beware, if da boi be dancin'.
Beware, if da boi be dancin'.
“Empathize with stupidity and you're halfway to thinking like an idiot”
Iain Banks
"But you'll be popular on GR."
Me
Iain Banks
"But you'll be popular on GR."
Me
In a review David Katzman again used as a method to sound "smart," he wrote; "What app-makers like to call AI, is not actually AI. It's just elaborate if-then decision trees. "
WRONG, DORKFACE.
WRONG, DORKFACE.
Does HST: PPT have anything on enemas in there? Preferably the ones where you shoot oceans of hot, soapy water up your ass and the mixture comes out all over the place; but am not insistent about that.
It'd make a great video for Douglas though.
It'd make a great video for Douglas though.
This is your life, or the lack thereof, Dooooogie Mackrel;
You're a pig and a slob and a disgrace to your family.
COMMIE BUTT FUGGIN', URBAN DICTIONARY STUDYIN"; GANGSTA WANNABE SUGGIN; HEAD NEEDIN' A RUGGIN; AND OVERALL NOT A NICE PUSSIN.
FRACK YO
P.S. AND YOU BEST TELL YO MAMA TO FIX THEM DROOP DRAWERS OF YOURS BEFO SUMBODY BE LAUGHIN" BOUT YO WEENIE.
You're a pig and a slob and a disgrace to your family.
COMMIE BUTT FUGGIN', URBAN DICTIONARY STUDYIN"; GANGSTA WANNABE SUGGIN; HEAD NEEDIN' A RUGGIN; AND OVERALL NOT A NICE PUSSIN.
FRACK YO
P.S. AND YOU BEST TELL YO MAMA TO FIX THEM DROOP DRAWERS OF YOURS BEFO SUMBODY BE LAUGHIN" BOUT YO WEENIE.
"Little fat man; isn't it a shame what the river has done to this poor cracker's land?"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhro7...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhro7...
MarioD wrote: "Does HST: PPT have anything on enemas in there?"Can't remember, but now I'm supremely curious to know what comes out when a troll gives himself an enema... I mean, is there anything even left up there, after spewing so much shit online?
Arthur wrote; "Can't remember, but now I'm supremely curious to know what comes out when a troll gives himself an enema... I mean, is there anything even left up there, after spewing so much shit online?"
Convenient memory lapse. But, in another unwise deference to the self proclaimed "supremo" I'd like to say that this question is another one of those which doesn't very well lend itself to yes-no replies.
In empathetic consideration of your ADD handicap, suffice to say that it seems to depend on a number of variables; those same variables likely closer to anecdotal than empiric; greatly compounded by my lack of a calibrated instrument capable of looking up my ass.
I hope this satisfies your curiousity. Please do not hesitate to contact us at Brookings whenever your ostensible supremacy again manifests itself.
Brookbart D. Humjob
Senior Fellow and Assistant to M. Rayner
P.S. In other words the above means "fuck you," "I don't know and I don't care." "Go blow dicklips Scarlotti at Micky D's," or whatever insult you'd like most not to hear.
AND WHO THE FUCK YOU CALLIN" TROLL? YO MAMA?
Gonna post chapter 2 or 3 of Gen2 when I finish it. Got delayed some when I decided to put a book within a book in its entirety with photos. They're fun to do and I'm wondering if these actions are a reflection of my preferance for pictures over words.
But now back on the edit. It's coming out like an 18th year math or psychology send up- acceptance aimed at those aged 14-18. Market considerations just drive me.
FUUUUUUK DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGLESS.
Convenient memory lapse. But, in another unwise deference to the self proclaimed "supremo" I'd like to say that this question is another one of those which doesn't very well lend itself to yes-no replies.
In empathetic consideration of your ADD handicap, suffice to say that it seems to depend on a number of variables; those same variables likely closer to anecdotal than empiric; greatly compounded by my lack of a calibrated instrument capable of looking up my ass.
I hope this satisfies your curiousity. Please do not hesitate to contact us at Brookings whenever your ostensible supremacy again manifests itself.
Brookbart D. Humjob
Senior Fellow and Assistant to M. Rayner
P.S. In other words the above means "fuck you," "I don't know and I don't care." "Go blow dicklips Scarlotti at Micky D's," or whatever insult you'd like most not to hear.
AND WHO THE FUCK YOU CALLIN" TROLL? YO MAMA?
Gonna post chapter 2 or 3 of Gen2 when I finish it. Got delayed some when I decided to put a book within a book in its entirety with photos. They're fun to do and I'm wondering if these actions are a reflection of my preferance for pictures over words.
But now back on the edit. It's coming out like an 18th year math or psychology send up- acceptance aimed at those aged 14-18. Market considerations just drive me.
FUUUUUUK DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGLESS.
G2, C3; may still need some editing; difficult to say. Anyway, here for you to not read is G's head trip; which leads to action in a roundabout way.
If you require constant action, get the fuck out of here quickly. There's a pro wrestling match somewhere. Or barring that, NASCAR.
Chapter 3
To attempt to find Billy and Jack, it was clear to Genevieve that she’d be making a journey. She’d prefer to do that with some company; especially as being something of a homebody; that journey would take her into parts of Poochville she had never previously seen; and maybe even unsafe places. For her envisioned trip, she’d have fancied someone more close than all excepting Clement, but such a Pacific Laner did not exist.
Genevieve knew what she had to do; but really didn’t feel like it. It was a lot more comfortable for her to be right where she comfortably was and maybe have a nice dream. To avoid any further of the kind of tiring investigations and disturbances she had endured during the Clement affair, she engaged reverie; in hopes it would suggest a logical reason for her to do nothing; while she almost unconsciously countered that by sipping her stimulating coffee.
Genevieve’s thoughts first went to the seemingly simple truth that personally thanking Billy and Jack would not be of much significance to them. Hell, one more or less little thank you was of no consequence. It would be like one of a trillion trillion trillion to the trillionth power of drops in an ocean.
From somewhere a terrible, argumentative voice popped in without invitation. She had been stymied at the cyber level. However, having been a pup before the deceptively-harmless-appearing machine took over everything; her natural instincts were still to seek important information without the use of cheap plastic. In fact, due to her experiences with the machine, she had come to assign a high probability to cyber stymie, misinformation, or the presentation of stupid cartoons which were supposedly funny precisely because they were supposedly purposely stupid. Duh? The concept might work for some a number of times. But, for Genevieve, that number was near six; as the sixth time; more or less; the “intended humor” resulted in a repetition of her own; that being one of bored derision. She had decided upon what she considered an alternative to the limitations which seemed endemic to common twenty first century notions of modern communication; personal contact. But, with who?
Unfortunately, Genevieve had limited experience of the distasteful irrelevance now associated with the “archaic” requirement of the icky personal contact of prior centuries; hers that of long gone Dillon and to a lesser extent, Clement. She was virtually oblivious to the “advances” made through the cyber sociability which had quickly evolved through the use of the computer, to laptops, to tablets, to cell phones, and to smart phones. Like the highly infectious and deadly “Spanish flu virus,” it was back again and now everywhere, supposedly for something akin to up-to-date-death research. But, only if you vibrated the wrong plastic keys.
Today’s tablets were not on any sort of mount. They were flat pieces of disposable insignificance. They were still prone to breakage and replacement; like most every other piece of plastic’s best, yet inadequate imitation of skeletally thin pieces of stone.
Modern tablet; the kind courtesy of Pexels,com under their CC0 license; modified.
Genevieve became confused. She realized that her thoughts might be irrelevant, insofar as they were now possibly just conveniently finding “reasons” to confirm a decision that she had already made; “post-truth” being the fashionably hot word of last year. A minute back she had seemingly decided upon the icky personal contact; the only question; “With who?” Now she sounded as if she was reconsidering the option she had just instinctively rejected.
Which voice was her own? ...... No problem; the answer came immediately. The plastic centered do-nothing scenario she had concocted was almost entirely applicable to the “comically” despairing hominids; her “knowledge” of them almost sompletely attributable to the “The Hominid Family” program her laptop insidiously delivered. The canine and now also feline paws resident in Poochtown are not yet that severely afflicted. For one thing, and not to take the overly emotional and perhaps more appropriate path, they simply have too much difficulty with keyboard keys one fifth the size of their paws.
“The Hominid Family,” an online TV show; property of the author.
“The Hominid Family,” as presented on expanded channel cable TV, as well as certain “cool” websites on the “new” tube, was now right in front of Genevieve’s face again. The first “joke” offered was another of those standardized, polite, failure ha-ha’s which must have been daring sometime before her youthful involvement with Dillon and before half of Pacific Road had been born. The canned laughter approximated the frivolity of a beached whale; or the obligatory mirth a bizarro fiction writer effects when unfortunately confronted with the offerings of another of that ilk. She took her last swig of coffee. The cup now drained, she did exactly what one might have come to expect. The stimulation of the coffee outweighed by the boredom induced by the laptop presentation, Genevieve put her head down on the left side of the “communication module,” and with a fortuitous paw placement shut it off in the rude manner the imposing plastic configuration designed to house an array of zeroes and ones has through “credentialed” flunkies audaciously insinuated what is nothing more than a needy desire for flesh and blood, have sought to hide their mercenary mission through their clandestine advertisements targeted at those who choose to wallow in that which is truly laziness spawned, but nevertheless have become perceived as being successfully sold; Nielsen heir’s the primary determinant of such considerations; a “high” number, ergo fashionable at all times excluding the hindsight correctly seen as aberrant period which roughly ran from 1962-1979, as an ineptitude combined with a thereby illogical overbearance, which the dink hates most; the largest question perhaps being “Who besides other dinks gives a flying?” Specifically, rather than making the prescribed series of entries intended to announce polite departure, Genevieve had perhaps accidentally; that possibly judgmental determination only known to her subconscious and her meta, possibly non-existent and definitively incomplete psychologist, none of which was prone to doing much talking, clarification, or anything else for that matter; pushed the button which the thing liked for turning itself on, but not turning itself off; that alone an unmentioned source of rudimentary imperfection. This plastic thought may take on more meaning if and when the thing makes the rules; but that scenario doesn’t seem likely to anyone other than those few inflicted with egg of head.
Genevieve was an tried and true aficionado of black coffee.
Chapter 4
Genevieve woke for the second time that day and firmly decided that she was going; and that she would first look for a partner. Clement was no doubt occupied now, so she focussed on which of Pacific Lane’s residents were without a current companion. There was slick Willy, Maureen, and Pablo to choose from.
Just re-read it. More editing indicated. This is a bit too jumbled, even by my standards. Sometimes I can get away with a McCarthy-esque laying in of periods and the resultant artistic incomplete sentences, but instincts say no this time.
If you require constant action, get the fuck out of here quickly. There's a pro wrestling match somewhere. Or barring that, NASCAR.
Chapter 3
To attempt to find Billy and Jack, it was clear to Genevieve that she’d be making a journey. She’d prefer to do that with some company; especially as being something of a homebody; that journey would take her into parts of Poochville she had never previously seen; and maybe even unsafe places. For her envisioned trip, she’d have fancied someone more close than all excepting Clement, but such a Pacific Laner did not exist.
Genevieve knew what she had to do; but really didn’t feel like it. It was a lot more comfortable for her to be right where she comfortably was and maybe have a nice dream. To avoid any further of the kind of tiring investigations and disturbances she had endured during the Clement affair, she engaged reverie; in hopes it would suggest a logical reason for her to do nothing; while she almost unconsciously countered that by sipping her stimulating coffee.
Genevieve’s thoughts first went to the seemingly simple truth that personally thanking Billy and Jack would not be of much significance to them. Hell, one more or less little thank you was of no consequence. It would be like one of a trillion trillion trillion to the trillionth power of drops in an ocean.
From somewhere a terrible, argumentative voice popped in without invitation. She had been stymied at the cyber level. However, having been a pup before the deceptively-harmless-appearing machine took over everything; her natural instincts were still to seek important information without the use of cheap plastic. In fact, due to her experiences with the machine, she had come to assign a high probability to cyber stymie, misinformation, or the presentation of stupid cartoons which were supposedly funny precisely because they were supposedly purposely stupid. Duh? The concept might work for some a number of times. But, for Genevieve, that number was near six; as the sixth time; more or less; the “intended humor” resulted in a repetition of her own; that being one of bored derision. She had decided upon what she considered an alternative to the limitations which seemed endemic to common twenty first century notions of modern communication; personal contact. But, with who?
Unfortunately, Genevieve had limited experience of the distasteful irrelevance now associated with the “archaic” requirement of the icky personal contact of prior centuries; hers that of long gone Dillon and to a lesser extent, Clement. She was virtually oblivious to the “advances” made through the cyber sociability which had quickly evolved through the use of the computer, to laptops, to tablets, to cell phones, and to smart phones. Like the highly infectious and deadly “Spanish flu virus,” it was back again and now everywhere, supposedly for something akin to up-to-date-death research. But, only if you vibrated the wrong plastic keys.
Today’s tablets were not on any sort of mount. They were flat pieces of disposable insignificance. They were still prone to breakage and replacement; like most every other piece of plastic’s best, yet inadequate imitation of skeletally thin pieces of stone.
Modern tablet; the kind courtesy of Pexels,com under their CC0 license; modified.
Genevieve became confused. She realized that her thoughts might be irrelevant, insofar as they were now possibly just conveniently finding “reasons” to confirm a decision that she had already made; “post-truth” being the fashionably hot word of last year. A minute back she had seemingly decided upon the icky personal contact; the only question; “With who?” Now she sounded as if she was reconsidering the option she had just instinctively rejected.
Which voice was her own? ...... No problem; the answer came immediately. The plastic centered do-nothing scenario she had concocted was almost entirely applicable to the “comically” despairing hominids; her “knowledge” of them almost sompletely attributable to the “The Hominid Family” program her laptop insidiously delivered. The canine and now also feline paws resident in Poochtown are not yet that severely afflicted. For one thing, and not to take the overly emotional and perhaps more appropriate path, they simply have too much difficulty with keyboard keys one fifth the size of their paws.
“The Hominid Family,” an online TV show; property of the author.
“The Hominid Family,” as presented on expanded channel cable TV, as well as certain “cool” websites on the “new” tube, was now right in front of Genevieve’s face again. The first “joke” offered was another of those standardized, polite, failure ha-ha’s which must have been daring sometime before her youthful involvement with Dillon and before half of Pacific Road had been born. The canned laughter approximated the frivolity of a beached whale; or the obligatory mirth a bizarro fiction writer effects when unfortunately confronted with the offerings of another of that ilk. She took her last swig of coffee. The cup now drained, she did exactly what one might have come to expect. The stimulation of the coffee outweighed by the boredom induced by the laptop presentation, Genevieve put her head down on the left side of the “communication module,” and with a fortuitous paw placement shut it off in the rude manner the imposing plastic configuration designed to house an array of zeroes and ones has through “credentialed” flunkies audaciously insinuated what is nothing more than a needy desire for flesh and blood, have sought to hide their mercenary mission through their clandestine advertisements targeted at those who choose to wallow in that which is truly laziness spawned, but nevertheless have become perceived as being successfully sold; Nielsen heir’s the primary determinant of such considerations; a “high” number, ergo fashionable at all times excluding the hindsight correctly seen as aberrant period which roughly ran from 1962-1979, as an ineptitude combined with a thereby illogical overbearance, which the dink hates most; the largest question perhaps being “Who besides other dinks gives a flying?” Specifically, rather than making the prescribed series of entries intended to announce polite departure, Genevieve had perhaps accidentally; that possibly judgmental determination only known to her subconscious and her meta, possibly non-existent and definitively incomplete psychologist, none of which was prone to doing much talking, clarification, or anything else for that matter; pushed the button which the thing liked for turning itself on, but not turning itself off; that alone an unmentioned source of rudimentary imperfection. This plastic thought may take on more meaning if and when the thing makes the rules; but that scenario doesn’t seem likely to anyone other than those few inflicted with egg of head.
Genevieve was an tried and true aficionado of black coffee.
Chapter 4
Genevieve woke for the second time that day and firmly decided that she was going; and that she would first look for a partner. Clement was no doubt occupied now, so she focussed on which of Pacific Lane’s residents were without a current companion. There was slick Willy, Maureen, and Pablo to choose from.
Just re-read it. More editing indicated. This is a bit too jumbled, even by my standards. Sometimes I can get away with a McCarthy-esque laying in of periods and the resultant artistic incomplete sentences, but instincts say no this time.
DIS SHIT BE FO DAT GAY ASS SHARK SUCKA.
YOU BALL HED MUTHAFARTA; YOUGHTA TEK DEM OL PITCHERS AN STICKEM IN SUM CO-ED TOILET WHERE GRAHAM BE SNIFFIN AN DEN MEBBE YU CUD GIT IN ANOTHER UH DEM ZERO BUCK, ZERO TALENT, ZERO SALES WEB ZINES.
FUGGIN RETARD.
YOU BALL HED MUTHAFARTA; YOUGHTA TEK DEM OL PITCHERS AN STICKEM IN SUM CO-ED TOILET WHERE GRAHAM BE SNIFFIN AN DEN MEBBE YU CUD GIT IN ANOTHER UH DEM ZERO BUCK, ZERO TALENT, ZERO SALES WEB ZINES.
FUGGIN RETARD.
"Well, you should know by now that it's just a scam."
Figured you knew that (not Douglas) but I like the song anyway.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAuPM...
Figured you knew that (not Douglas) but I like the song anyway.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAuPM...
"Do you take me for a fool? Do you think that I don't see that ditch down in the valley that they're digging just for me?"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_jPs...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_jPs...
MarioD wrote: "AG quit writing low income books after the frirst ten; and now takes credit for and benefits from the writing of others who stupidly seek his worthless acceptance."For someone with your grasp of spelling/punctuation, I'm surprised you don't hold us editors and our functions in higher esteem.
But, hey; no value judgements here. If you can dig sliming that's here for you too.
They warned us. The "horror" ain't exactly Bela Lugosi at your neck.