Q: How does French cheese get its distinct flavor?
A: From age.
January 15, 2014
From “Jokes Which Only Work In Print, 17th ed.” edited by “Wry” Ron Pilkinton
Posted by alexp01 under Excerpt | Tags: bad humor, bad joke, cheese, distinct flavor, fiction, French cheese, fromage, humor, joke, story |Leave a Comment
January 12, 2014
From “Costanzo Bros. Bakery, 3:57 PM” by Scoleri “Scud” Callahan
Posted by alexp01 under Excerpt | Tags: bakery, Cosa Nostra, donut, doughnut, fiction, humor, mafia, story |Leave a Comment
Detective Montgomery, Vice, met Detective Hanson, Homicide, at the latter’s request. Monty appeared at the Costanzo Bros. Bakery, which was at least as well known for being a front to the local Cosa Nostra mobsters as for making the best jelly donuts in the city.
Hanson was leaned against the counter, which was empty; Monty slapped down a five and took a few choice selections off the fresh donut tray.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Hanson drily.
“They can keep the change,” said Monty. “So what did you call me here for? You know the chief doesn’t like us buying donuts at Costanzo Bros., even if they are the best.”
“You remember a kid called Remo Aiolfi?” Hanson said. “Twenties, dropout, mellow to the point he probably took Ambien to wake up? Kid was baked, and baked hard.”
“Yeah, I remember him,” said Monty. “Kid was busted multiple times for pot, always was able to slip the charge or get it knocked down to community service. Don Colombera’s boys used him as a bagman, didn’t they?”
“My snitches have it on good authority that the kid was playing both sides, letting Don Anselmetti have a taste occasionally or selling him information,” Hanson said.
“Boy must have been toked to try something like that.” Monty took a meaty bite of a jelly donut, splattering filling all over the place. “God, this isn’t the Costanzos’ best batch, is it?”
Hanson shrugged. “That’s probably why Remo Aiolfi turned up dead,” he said. “Maybe the Colomberas did it, maybe the Anselmettis, maybe they both decided it would be better for business if he went away.”
“I’ll say,” Monty agreed through a faceful of donut. “How’d they off him?”
“Best as we can tell, they put him through a wood chipper and used him as a filler in the Costanzos’ latest batch.”
Monty stopped chewing, held out his donut at an arm’s length, and paled visibly.
“I told you the kid was baked, and baked hard,” Hanson said. “What did you think I meant?”
January 10, 2014
From “Behind the 8-Bit” by Deni Tonn
Posted by alexp01 under Blog Chain | Tags: fiction, humor, story, video games |[8] Comments
This post is part of the January 2014 Blog Chain at Absolute Write. This month’s prompt is “Retro Gaming Icons”
NARRATOR: It all began with an idea.
[DR. JOHN CARLTRON, Distinguished Emeritus Chair of Interactive Media History at Southern Michigan University, appears in an excerpt from an interview]
DR. CARLTRON: The name of the Musjido Co., Ltd. has long been the subject of speculation; the official company line is that it is a contraction of the Romanji phrase “Musekinin-Jigoku-do,” roughly “let the irresponsible ones be banished to hell.” Reportedly coined in response to the firing of Musjido’s first batch of employees for laziness, the name stuck. The company was a small regional developer of pachinko machines before the war, and it entered the lucrative home arcade market in January 1984 with its “Home Electronic Pachinko Computing Engine.” Retooled as a cartridge-based game system for a worldwide release, the redubbed Musjido Multimedia System (MMS) was an astonishing success.
NARRATOR: For the 30th anniversary of the Musjido MMS, Kyoto Processed Ricepaper Concerns Films (in association with Liberty Pictures) presents Behind the 8 Bits: a documentary event reuniting Musjido employees, fans, stars, and more.
[ROBERTO, star of Musjido’s breakout hit Roberto’s Adventure, appears in an excerpt from an interview]
ROBERTO: But-a moreso than the-a fame, it’s-a really the-a memories that-a I cherish. For-a my first title on-a the-a MMS, I had-a to punch salamanders on-a my way to-a fighting Yukke the-a Salamander King. I still-a remember screaming when I got-a their slime all-a over my gloves the-a first time!
[The scene shifts to footage from Roberto’s Adventure while ROBERTO continues to speak. Highlights include Zone 1-1, fighting Yukke in Zone 8-8, and dying in multiple ways to 8-bit salamander attacks]
ROBERTO: You would-a think that-a my fondest memory would-a be punching Yukke into-a the lava for the first-a time. But-a no, it-a is still the-a first salamander I punched. It’s-a been 30 years, and-a I’ve punched millions more-a, but you never-a forget your first.
[MONDO MAN, cyborg star of the multi-platinum Mondo Man series from Rockcom, appears in an excerpt from an interview]
MONDO MAN: Before the release of the MMS, Rockcom only made arcade games. End of line. But the success of the platform led to them starting the series with me. End of line. The original game was programmed by three college kids, but it’s still the template for all games of the same sort ever since! End of line.
[The scene shifts to a montage of Mondo Man gameplay, mostly from Mondo Man 2. Clips include the legendary spike drop in Spike Man’s stage, the notoriously difficult block-jumping segment of Lava Man’s stage, and a montage of 10 different ways to die in the first Doctor Vile stage]
MONDO MAN: How do you choose a moment that stands out from the MMS era, with ten games in ten years? End of line. I could mention the fight against Mushroom Man in Mondo Man 6 or the introduction of the dash mechanic in Mondo Man 4, or even the Mondo Jet I was able to ride in Mondo Man 5 through Mondo Man 10. End of line. I can only say that each time I defeated ten evil cyborgs, unmasked the villain to be Doctor Vile in disguise, and demolished his Vile Fortress, it felt like the very first time. End of line. I’ll always be grateful to Musjido and the MMS for giving me the chance to shine before my developer all but abandoned me. End of line.
[More clips of interviews and gameplay continue to scroll silently in the background, including F’SCOT from Fitzgerald’s Quest, AREOLUS from Subterranoid, and FIGHTER/MAGE from Dragon Fantasy I]
NARRATOR: Behind the 8 Bits, coming this fall from Kyoto Processed Ricepaper Concerns Films in association with Liberty Pictures.
Check out this month’s other bloggers, all of whom have posted or will post their own responses:
Ralph Pines
meowzbark
pyrosama
Anarchic Q
AndreF
MsLaylaCakes
January 8, 2014
From “The Irksome Conspiracy” by Sipriano McCroskey
Posted by alexp01 under Excerpt | Tags: fiction, humor, story, Traffic |[8] Comments
“Okay, our target is leaving the house,” said Central Control. “What have you got for me?”
A pause on the frequency. “We can have a furniture truck that takes up half the road and putters through intersections to make him miss the light on Stephens Drive in two minutes,” said the operative from Traffic.
“Excellent. Do it. Okay, that gets us to Van Buren Avenue,” Central Control said. “We need something on Van Buren before he turns onto Grizzly Drive.”
“Car accident?” said an operative from Disasters.
“Negative. We don’t have any agents there in civilian cars,” said the Traffic operative. “All we have is a groundskeeping crew.”
“Excellent!” cried Central Control, loudly enough that the transmission broke up into static for a moment. “Have them close off a lane.”
“Central?” said Traffic. “A lane? Groundskeepers?”
“If anyone asks, they’re mowing the lawn.”
“But you don’t have to close a lane to mow the grass.”
“Lanes have been closed for less,” said Central. “And the point of the exercise is to annoy the target and make them late for work, not to make sense. You do it, and you do it now.”
“Done.”
“What next. Disasters?”
“We have a few cyclists and pedestrians that can jump out in front of their car on Grizzly Drive, and some motorists standing by who can back out really, really slowly. Not much more than that, not with this short notice.”
“Do it. All to gain time for our big finisher, you see.” Central chuckled slightly. “Construction? What have you got?”
“Oh, it’s a beauty, Central,” said the Construction operative in a heavy–but well-pleased–smoker’s voice. “We got a road closed to ‘replace pipes’ on Grizzly just before the turn the target needs to make.”
“Replace the pipes?”
“Wouldn’t you know it, they’re digging in the wrong place,” laughed Construction. “Oh, and there’s no side street that gets around the blockage. The target will have to go back to Van Buren and take the long way around.”
“Excellent. Great work!” crowed Central.
“Oh, that’s not the best of it. The target’s usual parking lot is closed for construction as well–we’ll think of some excuse–and the other lots are all full. The only one with any spaces is a 10-minute drive away, and Traffic has cunningly lain in several motorcycles in full size spots and people parked across the lines to make notionally free spots unusable.”
“Brilliant,” said Central, voice crackling with approval. “There might even be a promotion in it for you.”
“Just doing my job.”
It was hard work, cutting together a conspiracy to infest a target’s life with tiny annoyances. Death by a thousand cuts…a fitting punishment for someone who had dared to tailgate and then cut off the leader of the Illuminati in his blood-red Firebird near Indianapolis.
There was still more work to be done, however. “Hello, Flights of Birds?” Central said into the radio. “How many incontinent seagulls can you have on station, and how soon?”
January 6, 2014
From “The Run on the Organic Aisle” by Lila-Jenny Swanson II
Posted by alexp01 under Excerpt | Tags: fiction, humor, organic, organic food store, story, winter storm |Leave a Comment
HOPEWELL, MI – The Hopewell Democrat-Tribune has been receiving reports since yesterday of shortages at supermarkets and groceries in and around the city of Hopewell and the Southern Michigan University campus. With Winter Storm Hoth approaching and promising 10-16 inches of snowfall on top of the existing six inches, the Democrat-Tribune set out to confirm these reports.
“It’s a madhouse,” says Peace Waterlily, owner and proprietor of Peace Market on east Adams St. “We have been out of non-homogenized, organic, local milk since yesterday–people were coming in and buying 3-4 gallons at a time! When we ran out, they even bought the homogenized, organic, local milk until we ran out of that as well.”
Speaking on condition of anonymity, produce managers from many other stores agree that they have seen a run on organic milk in the run-up to Winter Storm Hoth.
“Not just organic milk, either,” said one such source. “We are completely out of locally-sourced free-range rBGH- and rBST-free beef. People are absolutely panicked that the storm will cut them off from their supplies of organic foods, and they’ve been voting with their feet and their wallets.”
Another source adds: “We’re out of soy, we’re down to the dregs of our tofu, and our hemp oil pills have a waiting list. Fair trade coffee? Forget about it–we’ve been out of that for two days.”
In fact, after a visit to several stores in Hopewell and near the SMU campus, Democrat-Tribune reporters found perilously-low stocks of all organic, fair-trade, local, and ethically-sourced foods. A concerted search of the largest such store in town, the Hole Foods Market on Estate St., turned up bare shelves and empty racks in the ethical aisles and freezers. A few cans of free-range local creamed eels, a few of vegan soy substitute wadded beef, and a lone carton of organic fair-trade corn nog are all that remain. The only pita bread is expired and has been trampled on.
An angry mob of shoppers formed outside the One World Market once news broke of the shortages inside. “I need kelp and gluten-free unleavened bread for my paleo-diet! Where am I supposed to get them if everyone is out?” cried one shopper who declined to be identified. Some shoppers were reportedly so desperate that they purchased products that were only partially organic, or which were not local, though the Democrat-Tribune was unable to confirm these reports at press time.
January 4, 2014
From “The Mighty Galaxian Lotion Rangers” by Cornelius C. Figueroa
Posted by alexp01 under Excerpt | Tags: fiction, humor, science fiction, story |Leave a Comment
Lotion was extremely important to the Galaxians’ plans, especially after their invasion of Mortimer VI was foiled by a combination of dry cracked hands and a space flu of unprecedented virulence that was spread mostly through handshakes. As the denizens of a wet and watery world, the Galaxians we’re particularly vulnerable to losing moisture and acquiring age lines and wrinkles.
The official supplier of lotion to the Galaxian Empire was Griebel Brothers of Aloe IV. Their patented secret formula, designed to the Galaxians’, exacting specifications, was standard issue for all Galaxian ships of cruiser size or larger. Occasionally, those who chose to resist Galaxian conquest targeted vital lotion reservoirs and lotion supply ships in an attempt to stymie the invaders.
This was of course unacceptable in the Galaxians’ strenuous program of universal conquest, which had to adhere to a strict timetable with intervals measured in galactic standard picoseconds. Hence the creation of the elite Galaxian Lotion Rangers.
Armed to the teeth with the latest Galaxian military hardware, and given access to special reserves of lotion, the Rangers served to protect the vital flow of lotion from Griebel Brothers’ massive orbiting Lotionarim to the cracked elbows of Galaxian invaders throughout the galaxy. They also served as an emergency lotion delivery vector in cases where Galaxian troops were cut off and in danger of nasty scaly skin.
In the 300 years since their creation, the Lotion Rangers were undefeated despite fighting over 3000 engagements. Until, that is, they met their match in the nefarious Rash Riders of Blistex XII.
January 3, 2014
From “The Perks of Being a Coasterwuss” by Altos Wexan
Posted by alexp01 under Excerpt | Tags: Altos Wexan, fiction, humor, roller coaster, roller coasters, story, unpleasant experience |Leave a Comment
For most people a roller coaster is a slice of death-defying thrills inserted into their lives, lives which otherwise politely obey death and invite him over for tea.
For me they have always been a singularly unpleasant experience.
The first drop, when your stomach maintains a holding pattern at altitude while the rest of your body goes into freefall, has always been an intensely unpleasant experience for me. Not to the point of making me sick, usually, but to the point of making me intensely uncomfortable and wondering why anyone would willingly subject themselves to such a treatment. Coasters with no drop are better, and coasters that are all drop are rack-and-hot-coals torture. I could never be an astronaut, since zero gravity is basically like a perpetual drop-at-the-coaster-top feeling. Something tells me that even seasoned coaster junkies would have a problem with that, considering the zero-G trainer plane is called the Vomit Comet.
But the physical sensations are only a part of the picture.
For adrenaline junkies, and indeed for most normal people, roller coasters are a source of pride, a test of manhood (I know very few ladies who are coaster junkies). Turning down a ride is the equivalent of refusing to hunt a mastodon, or perhaps sitting out a football game. Not only do people poke fun at you for doing so, they have a hard time conceiving why anyone would even try to stay on the sidelines.
And yet I must declare that I am a coasterwuss, loud and proud. Or, perhaps, soft and timid as I wobble over to the nearest trash can after a 400-foot vertical drop.
January 1, 2014
From “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve 214” by Jacelyn “Bali Mojo” Marina
Posted by alexp01 under Excerpt | Tags: Emperor Caracalla, fiction, happy new year, humor, new year, roman, Rome, story |Leave a Comment
CAROLUS: And we are back here with our coverage of New Year’s Rockin’ Eve 214, coming to you live from the festivities at the Flavian Ampitheater just before the ball drops on 213.
THOMASIUS: That’s right, Carolus Magnus, and the party below is intense. The vomitoriums are at full capacity as the patrician class seeks to clear room in their stomachs for more decadent feasting, and the Rosa Colosseum Parade is moving through the ampitheater in review before our glorious patron, the Emperor Caracalla.
CAROLUS: This program is being recorded live on clay, papyrus, and slate (simulcast in Greek and Aramaic where available) for syndication on NBR, Networkum Broadcastum Romanum.
THOMASIUS: Yes, NBR subscribers can expect to hear this program in six to eight months–but remember, subscribers to our sponsor Harness High Speed Horsenet get their data at the blazing fast speed of six to eight weeks!
CAROLUS: HHSH: Moving at the Speed of a Flung Pilum™. Okay, we have only six turns of the water-clock until midnight and the beginning of 214. I see that the Marching Trojans Drum and Fife Band has taken the stage in front of the emperor and has begun their routine.
THOMASIUS: The Marching Trojans being from where again, Carolus Magnus?
CAROLUS: Why, Troy IX in Asia Minor, naturally. The parade programmers did take some care to keep them separate from the Marching Hoplites of the Sparta and Lacedaemonia Consolidated School District, you’ll note. And…what’s that? Yes, the emperor is giving a hand signal! Can you see what it is, Thomasius Felix?
THOMASIUS: It’s a thumbs down, Carolus Magnus. Yes, a thumbs down. The Marching Trojans have managed to upset the Emperor Caracalla with their song and dance number devoted to his brother Geta, slain on the emperor’s orders not long ago and currently being chipped out of all official monuments. They are being led away to scourging and execution on the Gemonian Stairs.
CAROLUS: To be fair, Thomasius Felix, I don’t think news of Geta’s death and damnatio memoriae had reached Troy by the time the Marching Trojans set out.
THOMASIUS: All the more reason to subscribe to Harness High Speed Horsenet, Carolus Magnus.
CAROLUS: Right you are, Thomasius Felix. It looks like the emperor is getting ready to throw the switch and drop the ball.
THOMASIUS: Our readers at home should know that the New Year’s Rockin’ Eve 214 ball is made out of authentic quartzite quarried in Cisalpine Gaul, clad in copper mirrors in an iron framework made by artisans in Hispania Citerior, and burning with two hundred oil torches from Aegyptus.
CAROLUS: Yes, and at the push of that lever, the ball will descend a greased pole onto a pile of Emperor Caracalla’s prostrate enemies, setting ablaze those who it doesn’t crush outright.
THOMASIUS: This is it! Count down with me!
CAROLUS & THOMASIUS: Decem, novem, octō, septem, sex, quinque, quattuor, tria, duo, unum! Felix sit annus novus!
December 30, 2013
From “The Library Patron in Yellow” by Brewster Rombach
Posted by alexp01 under Excerpt | Tags: fiction, humor, library, Lovecraft, story |Leave a Comment
“Uh, Ted?”
Theodore Crumb, Hopewell District Library circulation supervisor and sworn enemy to delinquent patrons and overdue books everywhere, walked over, his silvery hair spilling over his customary tweed blazer. “Yes, Mr. Burwell?” he said, his unusual, precise diction and habit of calling even his closest friends by their last names in full evidence.
“Well, someone returned a book with a HDN card in it, but it doesn’t have a barcode or a catalog record. Bound in some kind of strange leather, really old looking, with the cancelled stamp of a Massachusetts university.”
Ted pursed his lips. “Well, who was the volume in question checked out to?”
“Koening, Willy. Willy Koening.”
“Ah, Mr. Koening. I am surprised he was able to check it out at all, considering his propensity for taking our rarest publicly accessible volumes and holding onto them until we practically have to beat his door down to confiscate them back. Did the student at the desk ask him what he meant by returning a book we do not own? Was it intended to be some manner of atonement on Mr. Koening’s part?”
“Well, ah, it was Calvert,” said Burwell, his voice crackling with nervousness.
“And did Mr. Calvert share anything with you?”
“He, ah, said that the person who returned it wasn’t Koening.”
“Then who was it, Mr. Burwell?”
Burwell squirmed. “Calvert said that it was a hunchbacked, skeletal figure in a tattered yellow robe wearing a featureless pallid mask. When he asked for its library card, it removed the mask and Calvert said that beneath it was ‘uncountable, otherworldly, eyes surrounded by writhing tentacles like screaming maggots, and that its voice was as the sound of distant children screaming in fear.” He paused. “Calvert’s taking a mental health day.”
Ted raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “And what does Calvert claim that this patron said in such a voice?”
“That Koening wouldn’t have need of the book, or any book, or his library card any longer, as he had been placed on permanent reserve by the Great Old Readers.”
December 28, 2013
From “Superior Case Grammar Court, Docket 1337” by Lytton Burlew
Posted by alexp01 under Excerpt | Tags: fiction, grammar, humor, punctuation, story |Leave a Comment
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” asked Judge Participle–who was widely regarded as a “hanging” judge.
“We have, your honor,” said the jury foreman, one Mr. Rigg. “On the first charge of willfully and knowingly unleashing wretched prose upon the nations of the earth, and inspiring copycats to do likewise, we the jury find the defendant Stemp Heinemeyer guilty.”
Stemp, seated at the defendant’s table, let out a moan and hung his head in his hands.
“On the second charge,” continued Rigg, “that of willfully and knowingly disregarding the rules of grammar as we know them, and the specific counts of Oxford comma violations, run-on sentencery, purple-proseity, et al, we the jury find the defendant guilty.”
Stemp moaned softly.
“And finally, on the third charge of willfully and knowingly profiteering from these crimes, we the jury find the defendant especially guilty,” Rigg finished.
Judge Participle struck his gavel forcefully. “Stemp Heinemeyer,” he said, “having been found guilty by a jury of your peers, by the power vested in me by the State of Construct, I hereby sentence you to life imprisonment in a third-rate science fiction novel to be determined at a later date.”
“No!” cried Stemp wildly. “Anything but that!”
The judge banged on his gavel once again. “Clear the courtroom!”
Excerpts From Nonexistent Books 