Flashie Things V1
ByNVaughn7
With illustrations by Practically-A-Flake
Copyright 2010/2013 NVaughn7/Learning To Surf Publishing
Contents:
Volcanoes and Polar Bears
Stupendous Stu
Band of Robbers
Reality hits...
Once there was
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Never go to Newfoundland
Coming Soon:
Volcanoes and Polar Bears
Matherson could not believe his luck. He had survived the U- Boat attack and over four hours in the Indonesian Sea. At first, he thought he was a goner. As he had jumped overboard, he had lost sight of Ogilvy. Only once the initial wild dash away from the sinking ship had passed and he had had the presence of mind to look around for other survivors, did he realise his plight. Hundreds of miles of sharks infested waters and wreckage greeted him with no other soul in sight. He had screamed then. And shouted futilely, only giving up when he had spied what he thought to be a fin.
Matherson was just about to give up and stop treading water, accept what seemed to be the inevitable, when an unexpected wave rolled him over and he saw the reason the sun appeared to be taking so long to set. Just a few miles away was a volcano erupting majestically into the evening. It was lighting up the sky and making a low whoosh noise, which Matherson had taken to be the water swishing into his ears.
Having no other alternative, Matherson started to swim for the erupting mountain, not thinking what he might find there. Any hope was better than none.
He might not have made it if it had not been for the Polar Bear.
Matherson ran out of steam a tantalising few metres from the breakers. He tried to tread water, but was cramping badly by then. He kept going under and having to use more energy to splutter up for air. It was during one of those energy draining leaps for air that he first caught a glimpse of the Polar Bear. He thought it was an old cream carpet at first. Dipping down again, he thought he saw a reddish gleam of a claw, but his mind could not comprehend at that stage. Stubbornly, Matherson fought the loosing battle with the water and exhaustion, soon losing sight of the floating shag carpet. Then it hit him in the back with a massive jar, expelling all his hard won air. He started to sink and lost consciousness.
Matherson awoke in a sodden mass of smelly fur. He found when he moved briefly, that he was being held gently by the bear as an otter does a stone. Every so often, a wave would break over the bear's belly and wet Matherson's hair.
Man and bear floated tranquilly into a narrow bay full of people who stared in wonder. They soon fled as the bear reached the shallows; and releasing its passenger, shambled onto shore.
Matherson followed warily, wondering if he was going to be dinner for the bear, instead of the sharks. Much to his surprise, Matherson found that the bear indicated only friendship and its collar. Matherson laughed and was very very grateful to the "Property of Coney Island Menagerie".
Stupendous Stu
Stupendous Stu looked in worry at his navel, which seemed to be rising more and more these days in a bid to reach his nose; although, of course, that would never happen with the mirror he was using.
Band of Robbers
Crazy Luke robbed a bank
with his brother Fed Up Frank.
“You got the loot?”
Luke held up his lute.
“Don't you try to be cute!”
And Frank kicked Luke in the glute.
“Now take this sum...”
Luke grabbed a drum.
“Just you be mum!”
And Frank kicked Luke in the bum.
“Now get this right!”
Luke got ready to fight.
“I know you're not too bright,
but things are tight.”
Said Luke, “I gave you a hand,
but this I can't stand.
You treat me like sand!
I'm quitting this band!”
Reality hits...
hard against the pane of dreams.
Shattered illusions.
Once there was
a young sailor. First he sailed to new lands in the South. Then he sailed to some islands in the East. Then he sailed to the Far North. Finally, he sailed to the West. When he returned home, he refused to ever go sailing again. People would always ask why, but he never said. Not once. He just never left his homeland again.
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The advertisement caused a stir; unusual for such spam. We had become used to such a bulk of missives that we often deleted them before as much as a scan. This particular one, being so outdated and retro, had roused the nerdish curiosity of one of the operators. Talbot was his name. He had translated the instructions easily enough; and what do you know: it had played back its advertising message in such a simplistic way that was almost moronic. It wasn't anything we hadn't seen before either: a stream of badly recorded primitive languages, low-res pics and some interesting-looking pseudo-scientific symbols which the science guys were quick to point out were a load of gibberish. Once the techies had had their laughs, it was marked for deletion. It was me who saved it – not because of its amusement value, but because the damn disc was made of gold. That's right; real GOLD – the stuff we haven't seen on Orbos-Kree for the past two hundred years; not since our last little tiff with Serembus-Kree (S'ok, was a war) when they vaporised all our (and by default their) supplies – seeing how they never had any in the first place. So I saved the disc, carrying it carefully under my arms on the way to see the Chief-Chiefsinsin.
He looked down his snooty nose, gave a big sniff, sneezed (all that cosmic dust) and looked at me with bright, piercing eyes.
“How did it arrive? By way of Serembus-Kree?”
I shook my head. “Other side of the galaxy. This thing,” I tapped the gold disc still held by the Chief-Chiefsinsin, “came by means of a primitive – very primitive – space drone. Sends info back by Quark Freks.”
“Quark Freks!” snickered the Chief-Chiefsinsin. Then so casually that I knew he was thinking along the same lines as me, “Anything else...of interest...on this thing?” He was tapping the gold disc, in a not quite absentminded way. Gold, real gold, has that effect on you.
I nodded. “Water.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Quark Freks, eh? This...er...drone, show any other sign of advancement? Or...?”
I obliged. “They aren't above Level 2 GalRes Interference. Much lower actually.”
“Hmmm.” He contemplated the air above my new quiff. “Humanoid?”
“Barely,” I stressed, adding, “Still remains of tails at the end of spinal columns and very small frontal lobes. Lymph systems are still pre-EUT. Can't have evolved more than 25 Eutans ago. Well within GalRes Interference physically.”
“Hmmm.” He was still stroking the gold again – Real Gold! My own fingers itched. He cleared his throat. “Can't have the Serembus-Krees beating us to this location then, can we, Elfdarsonson?”
“No, sir,” I more than agreed, “especially if there is water there too.”
His bright eyes pierced mine again. He probably liked what he saw for he said, “How would you like to be a part of this expedition to Goldur-Dusc-Nee. Elfdarsonson?”
I grinned back at him. “I'd love to, sir.”
“Excellent. Excellent.” His gaze was on the gold again. “I'd like to keep the drone that brought this here too,” he said, “for my collection – and posterity.”
“Naturally, sir. I believe it's called 'Voyager for Travel' in the native tongue.”
“Ah, yes,” smiled the Chief-Chiefsinsin, “Definitely well below Level 2, these humanoids.”
We reached Goldur-Dusc-Nee less than two Kreesons from leaving
Orbos-Kree; not all that far from us really. Our scouts landed in a parched desert dead-centre of one of the smaller landmasses. It was a red desert full of strange creatures and balmy temps perfect for summer. Strangely, this lush land lacked water. Our sensors told us that the great waterforms were salt; and that the native higher lifeforms (confirmed to be closer to Level 1 than to Level 2) were mostly congregated near and along these great salty waterforms as well as other bodies of water, ignoring the more ideal climate in this centre. Looking back, it would have been easy enough to share with them, I suppose, with the resources of this world being plentiful, but that has never been the Egdason way.
We had galactic clearance and all rights sewn up before Serembus-Kree even got wind of our find. The Chief-Chiefsinsin's instructions were clear. We couldn't risk Serembus-Kree getting their hands on all that saltwater and destroying our monopoly. Besides, the easiest way to harvest and then transport gold across a two Kreeson expanse was, naturally, deneutronically instead of lugging the whole world body along. Best thing said for the natives was that it was all humane. They never saw it coming. One could almost have felt sorry for them if they hadn't been such spammers; not to mention idiotic enough to advertise their resources, level of advancement and real location! What else could they have expected? Contact? At least the universe is a smarter place now.
Never go to Newfoundland
There were three flowers: a red dahlia, a white rose and an orange gerbera. They were floating on the water. Dark water. Black water. Like obsidian before it cuts you. I lost sight of them as they disappeared under the bridge. It only took a second or two. And then I knew for sure.
There were three butterflies: one white, one black and one orange. They were flitting around the later September blooms, just here and then there, following some path of their own. Until the swallow swooped down. That's when I first knew. Sorta. Just wasn't for sure.
There were three dogs too. But they weren't real, so that's another story.
Now all I know for sure is: Never go to Newfoundland.
Coming Soon:
Look for these upcoming titles from
SeeThroughIt/SeeItThrough Mag Vol.2
Gilbert: From The Life and Times Of Gilbert MacD by Anushka Haakonson
Flashie Things V2 by Vaughn7
Other Titles By Learning To Surf Publishing Authors
Kieron's Tale by Anushka Haakonson
How Not To Meet The Man Of Your Dreams by Leenna Naidoo