Tagged: mind powers

Poet, Sir?

  • by jenPoet, sir?
  • lie festering in the crowded alleys
  • inherently disturbing but not gory
  • a jar of warm sputum
  • concentrating on my landlady’s cat

Poet, sir? You dare call me a poet? Do I have the look of one who would lie festering in the crowded alleys of Paris, drunk and penniless? The insinuation behind your “casual” inquiry is inherently disturbing but not gory, much like a jar of warm sputum. It tells me much about you, this assumption of yours in regards to my occupation. You presume I am concentrating on my landlady’s cat in preparation of writing an ode or a sonnet or — shudder – a limerick, when that is not the case at all. I am concentrating on my landlady’s cat so that I might learn to read his thoughts and gain valuable intelligence about my landlady’s comings and goings. Good day to you, sir. I say, good day!

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“Are You Telepathic?”

  • k-avatarand feeling for a zipper
  • and a felt hat like a helmet
  • Are you telepathic?
  • Better than getting drunk!
  • the finest esprit de corps the world has ever known
  • Also 50 yards of extension cord

“Are you telepathic?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Because if you were, I wouldn’t have to waste time speaking aloud. But, unless you’re hiding your true abilities behind a bland denial, I suppose speech is going to be necessary.”

“Does anyone ever say yes?”

“One man did once, and elderly fellow with a bow tie and a felt hat like a helmet. I thought about cars at him, and he stumbled away swearing and feeling for a zipper. So I think he was lying.”

“How about you? Can you read minds?”

“Sometimes. Better than getting drunk! But I need two live doves to make it work. Also 50 yards of extension cord.”

Telepaths have the finest esprit de corps the world has ever known.

“I quite agree.”

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Sacre Coeur Was Yet Another Cathedral

  • k-avatarpuffed up like a toad
  • no mere statue
  • You had two. They were thick
  • “Stand back, you imbecile!”
  • the 200 year brawl
  • yet another cathedral

Sacre Coeur was yet another cathedral trammeled in the 200 year brawl between transubstantiationalist rebels and the materialist establishment.

“Stand back, you imbecile!” bellowed Mordecai, chief pyrotechnician of the rebellion. “Out of the way so I can take down that minotaur.”

“You had two. They were thick. It’s my turn,” groused Stephanie, a talented psionic.

Both were struck speechless when the icon St Gridiron, which it seemed was no mere statue, puffed up like a toad.

“But this would be blasphemy to the materialists!” cried Mordecai.

In a grating voice St Gridiron explained, “They have formed an alliance with the couch-potato legions.”

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Spoiler Telepathy

r-avatarAn important way that we’ve kept one foot in the writing universe while distracted from our usual routine is by attending our critique group meetings. In that environment, we are sometimes two people and sometimes just one.

If the work being critiqued is someone else’s, then Kent and Jen each provide separate feedback. Rune Skelley, per se, doesn’t offer any suggestions. However, when it’s Rune Skelley’s pages under discussion, then it’s Rune Skelley sitting at the table. We pass significant looks and sometimes literally pass notes to each other, but Jen usually finds just stepping on Kent’s foot under the table is enough to make her point.

The need for all this clandestine communication arises from spoilers. Maybe not every critique group runs this way, but we like to get “an honest read” on our material. Plot points and character motivations often look quite different when you’re clued in about where it all leads, which means a spoiled reader will see connections that others might miss. To get a feel for whether the story is tracking, we keep our readers in the dark.

But the whole point of the group is to talk shop. Sometimes you want to throw out hypothetical edits and see if people feel they’d improve the flow or clarity. Sometimes you simply need to confirm, “You guys know Wiggins robbed the bank and Jinks is just taking the fall, right?” Delving into real analysis of the text means flirting with spoilers.

This is where telepathy comes in handy. With a quirked eyebrow, Kent can ask if it’s okay to bring up a plot detail, and Jen will know which one he means. We can ride the line to keep our readers honest while still being able to have a conversation with them. And if Kent starts to babble, Jen can always step on his foot.

“I Never Should Have Gone To That Frat Party”

  1. by jenCharacter – recently hypnotized male college student
  2. Setting – whorehouse
  3. Object – large pink balloon with 25 live bees inside
  4. Situation – servicing the addiction

“I never should have gone to that frat party,” Josh grumbled. The situation he found himself in grew stranger and more worrisome by the second. Josh tried to remember what had happened.

At Kappa Delta Rho house, the brothers had decided to try something different. Instead of a band, which inevitably led to noise citations, they hired a hypnotist for entertainment. Josh thought that it was supposed to be the girls who were hypnotized out of their inhibitions (and clothes), but he wound up being one of the first “volunteers.”

Next thing he knew, he was here, wearing a frilly, pink and white teddy and holding an oversized pink balloon.

And now the balloon was buzzing.

Josh gave the balloon a shake and the buzzing grew angrier. Something inside thumped against the taut membrane. Josh frantically ripped at the white ribbon which connected it to his arm, to no avail.

The red velvet wallpaper and faux-fur bedspread added to Josh’s unease, as did the rhythmic creaking of bedsprings and regular grunts from the other side of the wall.

Josh drew his knees up to his chest and hugged himself, the balloon bobbing just above his head.

Moments later a hidden door opened and two people entered. One was a middle-aged woman in a long silky robe and fluffy, high-heeled slippers. The other was the university president, wearing a cowboy outfit.

“Thank you, Miss Kitty. This one looks mighty purty,” the president said.

“Don’t you go hurtin’ this one, Tex,” the madam replied.

“I won’t, I won’t. Are all the bees in there?”

Josh glanced worriedly at his balloon.

“All 25,” the madam said, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

The university president peered down at Josh while slipping out of his spangly, fringed shirt. “Well now, Missy. There’s no need to be so worried. As soon as I get my bee fix, we’ll get down to business.” He popped the balloon.

Josh screamed.

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In the Darkened Room

  1. k-avatarCharacter – Russian game show host
  2. Setting – behind enemy lines
  3. Object – model trail
  4. Situation – seance

In the darkened room, objects moved though on one was touching them. Some of this was due to the tanks rumbling by, and some due to spirit activity.

The medium and the game show host sat on opposite sides of the small table. Gradually all fell silent.

“Are you here, Mikhail?” the medium asked softly.

There was a rapping sound from the table. “Comrade Bagski, you may talk to Mikhail.”

“Well, Mikhail, answer this one right and you win the model train. Ready?”

The table rose and began to twirl.

“Good! Okay, rap once for true and twice for false: The Romanovs got what they deserved.”

Two distinct rapping sounds were heard.

“Correct!”

The medium was troubled.

“Comrade, isn’t this a very touchy subject for a game?”

Bagski brushed it off.

“It’s the people’s model train anyway, he can’t keep it.”

“For a couple of reasons.”

A sudden bomb-burst shook dust from the ceiling and halted conversation.

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