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August 29, 2008

Home help.

I have been writing very little of late. The departure of Stumpy has left me with all the work to do around here. The despicable, selfish, vile and astoundingly ugly little cripple thinks only of himself, and forgets who dragged him from the gutter. I hear he’s doing very well for himself. His insane ramblings are proving popular with those of a similar, excessively tolerant group. Should you feel the need to read his babblings, they are here, but I warn you – he’s not quite house trained.

No matter. If Stumpy can restore order to a shambolic life, so can I. Therefore I have engaged the services of a new assistant.

I found this one under a bridge, giggling and wrapped in brown card. The giggling was encouraging. I do like a happy castle. Since this one’s eyes were at the same level, and I would therefore not feel the need to tilt my head when speaking, as with Stumpy, I decided to offer the job.

All went well until we approached the castle. I was ready for this, and administered sufficient sedative to silence my new assistant, so that the Slimy Swamp Thing wouldn’t be roused. Some people become overly excited at the sight of Dume Towers and often choose to express their delight and astonishment at this marvellous edifice by screaming. 

Once inside, I hosed down my employee to remove the accumulated filth and parasites. It was at this point I discovered my new assistant was female. Well, as long as she makes no attempt to paint anything pink, she can stay. I let her choose from my mother’s wardrobe after shooting the moths that attempted to carry her away.

She chose well, a fetching number in funereal black with blackened-steel trim. I even raised an eyebrow. Apart from the bearable face, she could pass for my own mother in a dark room.

I showed her around, and was gratified to hear her express her delight at the laboratory in her usual manner. It was indeed good to hear, although better, I think, if heard from a distance. If there had been any glass in the windows, she’d have cracked it.

Anyway, I left her chained up in the training cell for now. I’m sure she’ll tell me her name when she’s finished screaming.

In anticipation of having the hard work once more in someone else’s hands, where it properly belongs, I decided to try getting back to some writing. But where to find inspiration?

The answer lay in all those comments awaiting moderation. None made any sense, so I deleted them, but they made me think. Perhaps I could make use of them as a get-back-to-work exercise.

Here are the two I’ve kept:

First, from Spammer Supreme Santiago Wilkinson:

“mister lubrication fire grunter uneminently robalito townwear moosa”

And from the self-aggrandising  Nail Fungus Cure, we have:

“Nail Toe Fungus”

For each of them I will attempt to devise a little tale, using the words in the list as inspiration. Even the ones that don’t make sense, although I might adjust them a little for grammatical purity.

Now, if I can just find somewhere where the screaming isn’t audible…

Posted by Dr. Dume at 11:52 PM | | Comments (0)

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August 08, 2008

It's over.

The competition is over and my eyes have grown back after the searing they received from staring at my screen. I must find a less radioactive backlighting system. This will be a short post because only one hamster is running fast enough to power my computer and he’s not looking well at all.

 

I chose a worthy winner, I think, but I wished I could have chosen at least ten. I also wish I had the faintest idea where to start with compiling a book of collected stories because I read so many excellent ones.

 

If there's anyone out there in the mood to compile an anthology of toy-horror tales, let me know and I'll pass on your information to those who entered. I warn you, you might need more than one volume.

 

Well, while all this was going on, Stumpy has left my employment. For good. The ungrateful little cripple has become embroiled in the Outside World and gone on to other things. It's not all bad – it seems he had a baby Slimy Swamp Thing in the dungeons which he was keeping as a pet. It's now where it belongs. In the swamp. He was also responsible for letting Jugular the Clown loose in the castle, something I have to deal with soon before the vicious stuffed maniac finds the kitchen knives.

 

I am therefore in need of a new assistant. Oh, sure, I managed for many years on my own but I have grown accustomed to the convenience of not having to deal with every little job myself. So it's off to the village for me, for a beer or two in the Throat and Razor and a scout around the destitute for someone desperate enough to take up the post. Someone with the right number of limbs might be a better choice next time, and with far less self-assurance.

 

I'll need to train this one more strictly, I think.

Posted by Dr. Dume at 01:43 AM | | Comments (0)

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