Posted on September 19th, 2009 No comments
Today is September 19th and that means it is talk like a Pirate Day! So grab your yard arm, moisten up your mast, and listen to Salty Steve’s 100 word adventure.
The Adventures of Salty Steve: Trouble at the ole bunghole.
“Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!” Salty Steve cried in pain holding his eye during his shift on the night watch.
A bung had popped out of a barrel and shattered on impact. He looked on in panic as grog spilled out onto the deck and did the only thing he could. That night, the air dropped below freezing temperatures.
A knock on Captain’s door.
“Captain! Steve stuck it in the grog sir!”
The wooden door creaks open.
“I reckon any time is right for grog. Steve’s put a cock-valve in it then?” the Captain asked.
“Nay sir, no valve.”
Posted on September 16th, 2009 1 comment
Chapter 18: Remy in the evidence room with the lead pipe
The outside of the police station looked like a movie premier. Flashing lights from squad cars and bright white lights mounted on news cameras gave the grungy building a red carpet quality. Arthur drove his boat of a car right up the middle of the crowd. Reporters and bystanders jumped out of the path of the headlights and roaring engine behind them.
“Get out of the way. Come on.” He honked the horn and waved his hand out the window. The camera flashes were redirected in their direction as more people recognized the car and the Martian boys inside.
“Move it!” John screamed out the passenger window holding out his badge to the crowd.
“Detective Martian what is going on inside? Did the neglect of the department lead to one of your own dead?” A young blonde woman reporter in a short blue dress walked along side the car sticking a microphone in Arthur’s face. He batted it away.
“No comment. Tell your buddies to move it or I’m running them over.” After a few moments the front tires of Arthur’s El Dorado caught the curb lifting the front end.
“We’re here,” John said.
John and Arthur got out of car and pushed their way to the entrance of the station. A group of young cadets were standing outside the door keeping the gathering crowd at bay.
John patted one of the young men on the shoulder as they slipped into the doors. “Good job boys. No one else gets in until we come out.”
“Yes sir,” the youngest looking of the men said.
* * *
Remy sat unconscious and handcuffed to a chair in the middle of the lobby guarded by the boy cop. The chief paced in his office talking on a cell phone to the director of the FBI. The Feds decided it was time for them to come in and handle the situation. Arthur and John sat on cheap plastic chairs in the small cramped office while the chief made his case to the director.
“I know this is a big fuck up but we can …” Blackburn’s stubby hand ran through his wispy gray comb over. The short man paced back and forth in yesterday’s brown wrinkled suit still trying to rub the last remnants of sleep from his baggy eyes. He no doubt had been roused from a deep whiskey induced slumber to come and deal with this.
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Posted on September 13th, 2009 No comments
The Starship Peaseria sat in dead-space for forty hours under a constant barrage of high intensity laser bursts from the Admiral’s large freighter. Their engines burned up on the last light jump. Now all power was being directed to their shields while they plotted an escape.
The Admiral’s orders were to not destroy the Peaseria but they would not be taken, and time was precious. So he ordered the use of the microwave cannon to cook the crew inside and followed up with an accelerated particle ray to vaporize the ship.
Two crew members in an escape pod got out.
Posted on September 11th, 2009 No comments
I had the mic hot tonight so I figured I’d record the blog post I’ve been procrastinating.
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