ACME (09) – A Final Thought for Old Mrs. Misserly

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A Final Thought for Old Mrs. Misserly
(erased from memory, stabbed back with realisation)

The kettle on the stove was boiling with bubbling cacophony.  It was a frightening sound, when analysed, with its random and violent blubs and pops.  But old Mrs. Misserly, after years of hearing its wet crackles, found it a comforting noise; a sort of school bell for the end of a long day plagued by peripheral pranksters.  Her days had been the same for some time now.  She would arise every morning as her patch of ACME was only just being tickled by the imagination of dawn’s light. …   [continue reading]

ACME (08) – Ancestral Jottings

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Ancestral Jottings
(in the lands before ACME)

Chipped rock flew through humid, bubbling air.  Disordered lines in cave walls connected and separated in haphazard heavy-handedness.  Architects of some new place, intangible and distant to even its benefactors, hacked with primitive bashers and scratchers; patterns even they didn’t understand.  This was when man still bawled its aimless evolutionary whines – a communication, but with all the lexical weight of bleats and barks.  Here, as language was beginning to grind into motion, so too were the first wild lunges made in the direction of creativity.

A beat rose up in the night, rolled out on rocks and animal skin. …   [continue reading]

ACME (07) – The Mothers, The Fathers

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The Mothers, The Fathers
(and all of their nurture)

Did your mother weep when first setting eyes on your moist, fresh body?  Did your father not smile when he rocked your helpless frame in his overwhelming arms?  If not, such a thing is surely the opus of tragedy; but these matters are questions of our own world.  For Petey, the appropriate queries would concern the activities of Wallace following the final key strike of his character proposal.  Did he light a cigarette in rest?  Did he sleep, or perhaps enjoy an evening in town as his younger self at the time so often enjoyed? …   [continue reading]

ACME (06) – Seasoned Immortals

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Seasoned Immortals
(a Wabbit, a Ghost, a perpetually Smiling Mouse and a hulking, Yellow Stupidity)

A door creaked to an opening ahead of our swine subject.  The wall that housed the door was free from this construct moments previous and, as an odd, ethereal light slowly burst through the door ajar, he came to the realisation that he had somehow escaped total deletion.  He guessed the klaxon had meant the dawning of his destruction; the opening door signalled some hope for an opposing possibility – he would meet the Seasoned Immortals.  Perhaps there was yet time for Petey to harness the secrets they offered. …   [continue reading]

ACME (05) – The Douglas Anvil™ Shower

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The Douglas Anvil™ Shower
(careless destruction and its terrible waves)

He’s really done it this time.  His laugh rolled out like giddy cavalry.  Fool.  This contract will be framed in my memory forever.  Creative control – his “children” are mine.  Emil Douglas rubbed his sweaty, manicured hands with an uncontainable elation at what sat before him – a ruffled paper edge, sliced through by blunt fingers, the letter sprawling out below.  He always wasted characters, Wallace.  He only got the job because better writers died, always knew I could do better.  Look back into envelope.  Something else?  A new script! …   [continue reading]