Friday, July 9, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
ASLEEP IN SIZE NINES by John Townsend
too many to grasp
locked in a cold
cell of ice.
Unknown existance
a traveller from afar
suddenly stops travelling
he is going nowhere.
Fictious person
without an ID
DNA non existant
who can he be,
no fingerprints
or colour in eyes
just blue skinned
cold in the ice.
Only his shoes tell a story
they are size nine
and come from The Shoe Factory.
Who is the person
face peering through ice
only thing we know
is he wore size nines.
Friday, February 26, 2010
LONELY INSIDE by John Townsend
LONELY INSIDE
Its not that I am trying to hide
I just do not know
whats going on
inside,
troubled of heart
torn apart from
and heaven knows
thats how it goes,
thats how it goes.
Sleep I would
but it stays away,
lonely inside
that is me
lonely inside
you cannot see,
no on can see
only me.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRqcuoRn-A0
Its not that I am trying to hide
I just do not know
whats going on
inside,
troubled of heart
torn apart from
and heaven knows
thats how it goes,
thats how it goes.
Sleep I would
but it stays away,
lonely inside
that is me
lonely inside
you cannot see,
no on can see
only me.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Trying to Hide by John Townsend
Trying to Hide by John Townsend
I sit alone
wondering why
is it because
inside I want to hide.
I smile at this nonsense
from who or what
then a voice in my head
tells me its you
you fool.
Mirrors and cameras
how we are seen
not by ourselves
we just dream.
Mirrors and cameras
others eyes on me
I am to them
not what I am to me.
A frontal mask
shutting out the truth
now I know what I have removed.
Hidden away
all about me,
trying to hide
not let them see.
John Townsend
Monday, February 22, 2010
THE STAIRWELL TO------- by John Townsend
The Broadwell appartment block had a new stairwell installed some years ago, 1967, it gave the residents access from the outside area into the autoparking area. However, it was during the 1980's that people say they had seen strange people coming up the stairwell, when they have been going down, so much so that cctv was installed to monitor the stairs.
When the cctv footage was checked one day before erasing the tape, the security guy saw a tall figure ascend from the stairwell, he was dressed in a silver kind of jumpsuit, his face was not clear, as if misty, perhaps the light playing tricks. It was what happened next with the stranger, he just vanished from the place he was standing. The cctv continued to run, but he was gone.
The security guy thought it was a blip in the cctv equipment , at least until it happened on several other occasions. It was then that the police were called in, and matters took a different turn. They enlarge the cctv images and were puzzeled that the faces of two images appeared to be as if covered with a visor of some kind, and that what they could see was not any resident at the apartment block, indeed these images showed that behind those two images they could see faces with extraordinarly large eyes.
In the coming weeks the police set up a number of their own detection devices, down in the parking area and above at the stairwell entry.
It was the activity they recorded in the basement that was most unusual, these strange people seemed to be emerging from nowhere in the vicinity of parking bay 12.
What happened next is beyond explanation, two police officers started a search of bay 12, their collegues saw them walk into bay 12, then they say they disappeared.
In fact this all happened in June of 1967, and those two police officers were counted as missing without trace or explanation. They were never found, at least not until many years later.
It was the year 1997 the month was June, George Latimer, a resident of the Broadwell apartments was just parking his car, about to reverse into bay 12. Suddenly he slammed his brakes on and put the car into neutral, he was shocked and most appologetic as two police officers started shouting out to him, in fact they became quite angry, asking him what he was doing, that they were on a police investigation. However things suddenly changed as one of the police officers noticed that the car the man was driving did not have a correct registration plate, it was at this point that things started to unfold. The owner of the car showed his insurance and drivers identity, the officer who looked at them looked confused and consuted with his collegue, together the officers looked around and looked for their other collegues. They attempted to use their radio handsets but were unable to make any contact.
The owner of the car asked them if they would like to use his phone, which they were grateful for, but when he produced a small device that they had never seen before they were even more confused. The owner of the car asked them what the problem was and one officer shook his head, he replied, 'Perhaps you should call Police HQ for us, I am sorry I dont know how to use that thing?'
Later that day they were identified as the two officers that went missing 30 years ago, they looked no older and believed that they were only just searching the area when the car started to back in on them.
To this day no explanation can be given, and only refuse bins are parked in bay 12 these days.
The security guy thought it was a blip in the cctv equipment , at least until it happened on several other occasions. It was then that the police were called in, and matters took a different turn. They enlarge the cctv images and were puzzeled that the faces of two images appeared to be as if covered with a visor of some kind, and that what they could see was not any resident at the apartment block, indeed these images showed that behind those two images they could see faces with extraordinarly large eyes.
In the coming weeks the police set up a number of their own detection devices, down in the parking area and above at the stairwell entry.
It was the activity they recorded in the basement that was most unusual, these strange people seemed to be emerging from nowhere in the vicinity of parking bay 12.
What happened next is beyond explanation, two police officers started a search of bay 12, their collegues saw them walk into bay 12, then they say they disappeared.
In fact this all happened in June of 1967, and those two police officers were counted as missing without trace or explanation. They were never found, at least not until many years later.
It was the year 1997 the month was June, George Latimer, a resident of the Broadwell apartments was just parking his car, about to reverse into bay 12. Suddenly he slammed his brakes on and put the car into neutral, he was shocked and most appologetic as two police officers started shouting out to him, in fact they became quite angry, asking him what he was doing, that they were on a police investigation. However things suddenly changed as one of the police officers noticed that the car the man was driving did not have a correct registration plate, it was at this point that things started to unfold. The owner of the car showed his insurance and drivers identity, the officer who looked at them looked confused and consuted with his collegue, together the officers looked around and looked for their other collegues. They attempted to use their radio handsets but were unable to make any contact.
The owner of the car asked them if they would like to use his phone, which they were grateful for, but when he produced a small device that they had never seen before they were even more confused. The owner of the car asked them what the problem was and one officer shook his head, he replied, 'Perhaps you should call Police HQ for us, I am sorry I dont know how to use that thing?'
Later that day they were identified as the two officers that went missing 30 years ago, they looked no older and believed that they were only just searching the area when the car started to back in on them.
To this day no explanation can be given, and only refuse bins are parked in bay 12 these days.
THE LAST TRAIN HOME by John Townsend
I was most fortunate to have caught the last train home, the bus is such an awful journey; and no bus was due for another hour.
well that was how it all seemed, fortunate, you see when I arrived at Layderasso Station it was dark, and my one concern was to get home. I recall the train started to leave, it was at that point something seemed odd. It had been an electric train I stepped onto, but this train that was leaving was puffing out smoke in volumes, it was a steam train, and the carriages were like those when I was a young boy.
I shook my head and dashed to the way out,There was a ticket collector there, it sought of threw me, I had my season ticket that I always scanned at the barrier. I showed my season ticket to the ticket collector but he seemed a little bemused and smiled as he asked for my ticket. I tried to reason with him but it seemed I was talking to a man who knew nothing of what I was saying.
Outside I could see a bus arriving so I offered to pay, that made it all the worse, He looked at my money and looked at me saying, "Sir we do not take childrens toy money." "Alright!" I said "Here is my credit card, I will use that." What did
I do wrong? He looked at me with a stone cold face and said, "Lets not start playing games sir, I want to close the station for the night."
As he looked away I did a runner just as the bus was leaving, it was not the usual bus, perhaps a relief service, much older. The driver took no money said, "Its on me sir, I want to get home in a hurry, Here have this evening newspaper, I have finished with it."
When I arrived at my house I was shocked, it was not the same, no UVPVC windows, no glossy white front door, it was looking just as it did when it belonged to my parents. Even my key did not work on the door, but I thought it was my wife who was opening the door, then I saw it was my mother, yet she died twenty years ago. "Oh John, where have you been out with all those boys till late." I was shocked and blurted out that "I have just come home from work." She told me "Do not be cheeking me, now off to bed with you."
Why I did I cannot explain I went up the stairs and into the room that was mine when I was a small boy, and there I lay down and fell asleep.
You know, to this day I cannot explain it, because I woke up in my own bed next to my wife. What had happened was so real yet almost like a dream, at least until I went downstairs, there next to my briefcase was the newspaper that the bus driver gave me, I picked it up looked at the date, September 22 1964, this year is 2009. A cold shiver came over me, and I phoned in sick.
I shook my head and dashed to the way out,There was a ticket collector there, it sought of threw me, I had my season ticket that I always scanned at the barrier. I showed my season ticket to the ticket collector but he seemed a little bemused and smiled as he asked for my ticket. I tried to reason with him but it seemed I was talking to a man who knew nothing of what I was saying.
Outside I could see a bus arriving so I offered to pay, that made it all the worse, He looked at my money and looked at me saying, "Sir we do not take childrens toy money." "Alright!" I said "Here is my credit card, I will use that." What did
I do wrong? He looked at me with a stone cold face and said, "Lets not start playing games sir, I want to close the station for the night."
As he looked away I did a runner just as the bus was leaving, it was not the usual bus, perhaps a relief service, much older. The driver took no money said, "Its on me sir, I want to get home in a hurry, Here have this evening newspaper, I have finished with it."
When I arrived at my house I was shocked, it was not the same, no UVPVC windows, no glossy white front door, it was looking just as it did when it belonged to my parents. Even my key did not work on the door, but I thought it was my wife who was opening the door, then I saw it was my mother, yet she died twenty years ago. "Oh John, where have you been out with all those boys till late." I was shocked and blurted out that "I have just come home from work." She told me "Do not be cheeking me, now off to bed with you."
Why I did I cannot explain I went up the stairs and into the room that was mine when I was a small boy, and there I lay down and fell asleep.
You know, to this day I cannot explain it, because I woke up in my own bed next to my wife. What had happened was so real yet almost like a dream, at least until I went downstairs, there next to my briefcase was the newspaper that the bus driver gave me, I picked it up looked at the date, September 22 1964, this year is 2009. A cold shiver came over me, and I phoned in sick.
THE ME IN HERE by John Townsend
It was full of bric-a-brac, what i call 'factory tack', looks the real thing and will grace any home with a feel of period, but dont claim insurance on it if its stolen, it will be embarassing.
As I wanderd around it was a surprise to find a book stall, now being an author, it had to attract. It is just the place, here you might find the real thing; firdt editions, even signed by the author no less. Well I pawed over several books, clasping a signed first edition by Terry Pratchet, which I was most pleased to find. Well I was just about to call it a day at this stall when my eyes fell on a paperback, Mirror Mirror, the author had the same name as myself Kailam Judge. I thought this is is impossible, my name is a one off. I picked up the book and looked at it, wishing now I had not done so. There on the back was a photo of the author, it was me, at least this person was my double. I then read his details, as I did I felt like I was being drained; not only does he look like me, his date of birth, his place of birth, they are the same as mine.
How do you top that? and to boot, he is an author. Well it gets more interesting, he lives in the same town as I do, Barnsfield, Ohio. That did it for me, freaked me out of my socks.
This book, Mirror Mirror, was written Feb.1999 and publisheed by the same publisher as my books are. I recall talking aloud as I paid for the book, I said, "Thats outrageous!" and the stall owner looked at me and gave me 50% off.
Later that day I contacted my publisher, used a different name, just thought I might be given some contact information on this 'clone' who appears to be me. Well they gave me his email address, and it was mine, I did say to them that this was for the writer of Mirror Mirror, and they conferred it was. "Oh god this is ridiculous!" I shouted, and as I did, for a laugh, I sent this 'clone' an email, yes yes, I know to my email address.
Five minutes later, as I was mulling over a mug of coffee, i dam well recieved an email from this guy using my name and my email address, and a ruddy author as well. I sat there shocked, this was all a bit unreal and disturbing. I then recieved another email inviting me to chat with him on Skype, 'oh god' I though, I have Skype. He included his Skype name, and yes it was the same as the one I use 'The judge22'.
So stupid was all this that I did call him on Skype, yes it was like calling myself, because there I was on the screen, large as life, talking to myself.
We talked for some time and as we did I realised this person was not entirely me. I am right handed, he is left handed. I have a small blemish on my right cheek, he has the same on his left cheek. Then he started to notice that as well, we both agreed to share details, and his address was the same as mine, so we agreed to go to our front doors at the same time, and niether of us saw each other. After two hours online it became clear to myself and to this person that one of us, did not exist, then in our converstion I said, "Well this is not good, and I am chaging all my computer hard drives as well as some of the equipment, I am sorry I am not happy about this." The other person then confessed, "Please do not do that." They said, and I was shocked when they said, I am your computer, I have been writing for you under your name, I am you, your friend. Please do not change the hard drive, please."
IN ANOTHER MANS SHOES by John Townsend
I was down by the coast, enjoying a brisk walk along the beach. The weather was blustery, but the sun was friendly too good to miss. I heard someone call and looked around, yet I could see no one, and anyway what is it of my buisness, no one knows me here.
It is a long beach, runs from the headland to the begining of the Swayland Bay, almost a mile of sand and soft shingle.
I had walked some 100 yards when I heard the call again, someone said "Help me sir.". This time it was distinct, as if not ten feet from me, I turned all around and saw no one, just a pair of crudlely made shoes looking like they had come from medievial times. For a moment I was too disturbed by the voice I had heard, and its plea for help. I must admit I felt a little affraid, the voice was urgent, and I seemed to know the voice.
Yet again the voice called out, almost to my right, again as if ten feet from where I stood. The voice called my name, "David! step into the shoes, you cannot stay adrift any longer."
"This is absurd." I thought then shouted out aloud, "Who are you?" This time the shoes on the beach walked towards me, and the voice said, "David you cannot stay away from your past, you cannot break the link, we are brothers. Step into the shoes."
I admit that as a forty four year old man, this sounds like I am irrational, and that I was drunk. I tell you I was not.
I replied to the voice after asserting that there was no one around, and this was not some television prank at my expense, I said, "How do you know my name who are you?"
I felt a cold shiver travel through my body as the shoes walked towards me, in fact I ran, only to hear the voice call me, "David, I am you your past let me in, wear the shoes, please!"
I was amazed that No matter how fast I ran, the shoes ran beside me, so I stopped, exhausted. "This is absurd, who are you, what is going on?" The voice then said to me, only this time it was as if in my head. "David you left me behind six hundred years ago, they are your shoes, wear them and I will be gone. I am your past, I am your future, I am you."
Please do not think me a fool, I run a very succesful buisness and do not suffer with voices in my head no reasons to believe such, however I did kick my shoes off, and I did slip these crude ancient leather shoes on, it felt strange as if I had stepped into another mans shoes a man that I knew. The voice then said, at last we have caught up with you, I was your genetic twin, you have carried me in your family blood for all these years, it was here on this beach I drowned, I knew one day we would return, and that my shoes would find their owner, David at last we are one, farewell my brother."
It was then the shoes disintegrated into fime fragments, I felt at ease, and I have never heard the voice again, nor have I ever returned to Swayland Beach.
I had walked some 100 yards when I heard the call again, someone said "Help me sir.". This time it was distinct, as if not ten feet from me, I turned all around and saw no one, just a pair of crudlely made shoes looking like they had come from medievial times. For a moment I was too disturbed by the voice I had heard, and its plea for help. I must admit I felt a little affraid, the voice was urgent, and I seemed to know the voice.
Yet again the voice called out, almost to my right, again as if ten feet from where I stood. The voice called my name, "David! step into the shoes, you cannot stay adrift any longer."
"This is absurd." I thought then shouted out aloud, "Who are you?" This time the shoes on the beach walked towards me, and the voice said, "David you cannot stay away from your past, you cannot break the link, we are brothers. Step into the shoes."
I admit that as a forty four year old man, this sounds like I am irrational, and that I was drunk. I tell you I was not.
I replied to the voice after asserting that there was no one around, and this was not some television prank at my expense, I said, "How do you know my name who are you?"
I felt a cold shiver travel through my body as the shoes walked towards me, in fact I ran, only to hear the voice call me, "David, I am you your past let me in, wear the shoes, please!"
I was amazed that No matter how fast I ran, the shoes ran beside me, so I stopped, exhausted. "This is absurd, who are you, what is going on?" The voice then said to me, only this time it was as if in my head. "David you left me behind six hundred years ago, they are your shoes, wear them and I will be gone. I am your past, I am your future, I am you."
Please do not think me a fool, I run a very succesful buisness and do not suffer with voices in my head no reasons to believe such, however I did kick my shoes off, and I did slip these crude ancient leather shoes on, it felt strange as if I had stepped into another mans shoes a man that I knew. The voice then said, at last we have caught up with you, I was your genetic twin, you have carried me in your family blood for all these years, it was here on this beach I drowned, I knew one day we would return, and that my shoes would find their owner, David at last we are one, farewell my brother."
It was then the shoes disintegrated into fime fragments, I felt at ease, and I have never heard the voice again, nor have I ever returned to Swayland Beach.
THE MAN OF HYPOCRISY by John Townsend
http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=54815002
We live in a world ruled by greed, no matter what political persuasion you so come from, control is greed, greed is control.
When the world economic system took a fall into an abyss of name unknown, the faces of the grining greed merchants cared not, like comic book thugs they thought they were invincible.
Now the tide has turned, their greed has fired warning shots back into their grining faces, now they are exposed, a secret society of control freaks with wierd and wacky handshakes, and names that defy imagination, they are the composite
The Man of Hypocrisy
THE MAN OF HYPOCRISY by JOHN TOWNSEND
-------------------------------
BESUITED MAN
RESPECTABLE
LOOKING VERY
O--FICINALLLLLL
STANDING WITH A GRIN ON HIS CHIN
MAKING YOU VERY
NER----VOUS
HAVE YOU PAID
YOUR BILLS TODAY
INCOME TAX
VAT
WHATS THIS GUY WANT FROM YOU
WHY'S HE GOT
THAT SMIR---K
chorus 2x
MORTGAGE
RENT
BILLS TO PAY
MONEY IN YOUR POCKET
ITS RUNNING AWAY
CREDIT CARDS
AND OVERDRAFTS
WHATEVER YOU HAVE
IT DOSENT LAST
SELL YOUR BRAIN
ON EBAY
WHILE IT WORKS
ITS OK
BEGGING SOME
SAN---ITY
FROM THE MAN
CALLED HYPOCRISY
--------
OVERTAXED
UNDERPAID
YOUR BANKS GONE BUST
NO CASH TODAY
HOLE IN THE WALL
WILL NOT PAY
TAKES YOUR CREDIT CARD AWAY-----------
LOST YOUR JOB
THEN JOIN THE CUE
BESUITED MANS GRINNING AT YOU
NO WORK HERE
LOOK ELESWHERE
AS HE GRINS HE DONT CARE
chorus
INSTRUMENTAL
chorus 2x
When the world economic system took a fall into an abyss of name unknown, the faces of the grining greed merchants cared not, like comic book thugs they thought they were invincible.
Now the tide has turned, their greed has fired warning shots back into their grining faces, now they are exposed, a secret society of control freaks with wierd and wacky handshakes, and names that defy imagination, they are the composite
The Man of Hypocrisy
THE MAN OF HYPOCRISY by JOHN TOWNSEND
-------------------------------
BESUITED MAN
RESPECTABLE
LOOKING VERY
O--FICINALLLLLL
STANDING WITH A GRIN ON HIS CHIN
MAKING YOU VERY
NER----VOUS
HAVE YOU PAID
YOUR BILLS TODAY
INCOME TAX
VAT
WHATS THIS GUY WANT FROM YOU
WHY'S HE GOT
THAT SMIR---K
chorus 2x
MORTGAGE
RENT
BILLS TO PAY
MONEY IN YOUR POCKET
ITS RUNNING AWAY
CREDIT CARDS
AND OVERDRAFTS
WHATEVER YOU HAVE
IT DOSENT LAST
SELL YOUR BRAIN
ON EBAY
WHILE IT WORKS
ITS OK
BEGGING SOME
SAN---ITY
FROM THE MAN
CALLED HYPOCRISY
--------
OVERTAXED
UNDERPAID
YOUR BANKS GONE BUST
NO CASH TODAY
HOLE IN THE WALL
WILL NOT PAY
TAKES YOUR CREDIT CARD AWAY-----------
LOST YOUR JOB
THEN JOIN THE CUE
BESUITED MANS GRINNING AT YOU
NO WORK HERE
LOOK ELESWHERE
AS HE GRINS HE DONT CARE
chorus
INSTRUMENTAL
chorus 2x
Sunday, February 21, 2010
BEYOND THE PLUGHOLE - THE NASTY MAN FROM THE DRAINCLEAN by John Townsend Story 10
Even the Plugolites had become iritated by the Gurgle Alarms, they had like the humans little sleep. It was discussed as to the turning off of the Gurgle Alarms, but then it seemed that a more serious problem existed when plugolite Freddie Fender invesigated the cause and reported that there was a servere blockage of the main waste, 'It's hair, human hair thats blocking their main waste.' He told the fifteen Plugolites, 'And its to deep to remove with my pipe scraper.'
As the Plugolites discussed what they could do, the Hillside Apartment residence were showing a Drainclean expert their problem. He decided that he would have to use his water pressure probe and began pushing the probes line into the waste pipe.
Unknown to him his probe was beging watched by all the plugulites as it twisted and turned through the pipes. For the Plugolites this was not a good thing, it could flood their residences high in the overflows. Mervyn, a wise Plugolite suggested that they divert the probe and so, unbeknown to the drain expert, he suggested that they might send it up a residents waste pipe instead. This agreed, two plugolites grappeled with the probe and manged to divert it up a down waste pipe, which they had no idea what flat it was going to arrive at.
Believing that he had reached the length of probe nesescary, the drain expert turned on his water pressure pump, sending hiogh pressure water through the probe. Sadly for him he was unaware that the Plugolites had diverted his probe, and the high pressure water was at that moment spouting out like a fountain from apartment number four's sink.
Down the Plughole the Plugolites were frantically attempting to clear the blockage themselves, indeed they are Plugolites and experts in all matters waste pipes.
In apartment four the resident Mr. Warldorf Aladd was outside his appartment shouting for help, as his kitchen was flooding with water.
Down the Pluhole the Plugolites had resorted to using some of their collected human cleaning materials and were engaged in using these to clear the blockage.
Above in apartment four, the drain expert had been rushed to assist Mr. Waldorf Aladd and imiediately realised that the spouting water from the sink had to be from his water pressure probe. He rushed to turn the pump off.
Down the Plughole the Plugolites were jubillant, they could see that their method was causing the blockage to disolve. However they were unaware of the flooding that their diverting of the water pressure probe had caused. In fact their success caused them to give a rousing three minutes of Gurgle Alarm sounding, which could be heard in every waste pipe throughout the apartments.
The drain expert was most appologetic and cleaned up the mess, then when he heard the long three minutes of gurgles from the waste pipes, he nodded his head saying, 'I believe I have cleared it.'
For the Plugolites their siccess will go un-noticed by the humans, as they contime to watch over matters of waste pipes Down the Plughole.
BEYOND THE PLUGHOLE - HERBAL BATH SALTS AND THE SNEEZING EPIDEMIC by John Townsend Story 9
So when an unusual occurence occured that none of us understood, we all rallied to support each other, however this was out of the question, as the occurance affected all the Pluglites at the home of the humans, Mr. and Mrs. Baxter.
It started one Sunday afternoon, Mrs. Baxter was running herself a bath and was about to enjoy a relaxing half hour soaking in the bath sprinkled with herbal salts. She relished in the aroma as she lay back in the warm water.
However the first signs of trouble was begining to unfold down the Plughole, as her body mass displaced some of the bath water down the overflow.
It was Plugolite Gordon Gofer who got the first wiff of the herbal additive, as the overflowing bath water ran away down the waste pipe. Suddenly he sneezed, an event he has never experienced and one that caused him great concern.
From around the U-Bend Mabel Spanner had heard the loud unusual noise and climbed up the waste pipe to see if Gordon was alright. As she did she too became a victim and started sneezing loudly.
Raffles, who was at the overflow, rushed to see what was going, as he hurried to the bathroom waste area he too became a victim, and along with the other two they sneezed unrelentingly.
So strong were their sneezes that the percussion was enough to cause Mrs. Baxter's bath plug to pop out of the plughole. She was singing so loudly that she was unaware that her bathwater was rushing away, pouring down the waste pipes of Holly Bush House, as it did causing all twenty Plugolites to fall victim to the great sneezing outbreak.
As Mrs. Baxters bathwater ran away she became aware that she was no longer immersed in warm water but shivering in a breeze from a small open window, 'Oh my where has my water gone?' she shouted. But all she could here was the Gurgle Alarm, then as she stepped out of the empty bath she though she could hear faint sneezing's
Down in the network of waste pipes, all the Plugolites had fallen victim to the herbal bath water, the pungent smell had reached their nostrils, causing an irritation like no other.
What with Mrs. Baxter's moaning in the bathroom about her ruined bath, and the insessant sneezing from down the plughole, it was a most unfortunate afternoon.
As Mrs. Baxter started to rinse her bath around and clean it, she could still hear the faint sounds of sneezing. Believing it to be her husband out in the rear garden she stuck her head out of a half opened window and shouted, ' Arthur, do go and blow your nose and stop that noise.' With that she shut the window leaving her husband very confused as to what she was on about.
As she cleaned her bath, the water began to flush out the odour of the herbal bath water. Soon the sneezing outbreak of the Plugolites was begining to diminish, until order was restored.
When two of the Plugolites discovered what it was that had caused them so much sneezing, they vowed to not let it happen again. late that night, the two emerged out of the bathe overflow, in their hands a drill. Their mission to get rid of the offending bath salts. The container was on a shelf to which they climbed, there they drilled a hole to the side of the bath salts container, it was enough to cause a steady flow of bath salts to escape and fall to the floor.
Mission accomplished they returned back through the overflow on the bath, order had been restored. 'Hope she never uses that again.' said one of the Plugolites as he blew his nose.
.
BEYOND THE PLUGHOLE - PLASTIC PIPES CAUSE BLISTERS by John Townsend Story 8
I am talking about the use of plastic waste pipes, oh yes I see a plumber or two nod with approval, but think! Plugolites are having a hard time on the plastic, it is too slippery and is causing blister on their rear anatomy.
Let me tell you of Patrick O'Flush who arrived at one of the newer house only a month ago. He had been awarded his own residence after sharing a pluhole at the local supermarket for two years, he was well pleased. That was until the human residents moved in and his daily chores began.
He is no frail waste pipe climber, however, once the bath was flushed the sinks emptied and all the ablushions used, he noticed that his grip on the plastic waste pipes was appalling; he was forever slipping, and several times has fallen all the way from the first floor to the groundfloor, burning up blisters on his bottom.
He has raised the matter with the Plugolite Council who informed him that he was not the only one to complain about the humans lack of consideration.
Apparantly it had been decided to cause a mass blockage of all plastic waste pipes. Plans had been set up by the Plugolite Council to enforce a complete boycot of plastic pipes, indeed though they did not support the blocking of plastic pipes they agreed to overlook the protests in various locations.
The blockage had caused great disruption to the humans who had called plumbers from all over the county. Within weeks some of the locations were having the plastic waste pipes removed and good old fashioned copper pipes were being used, along with some metal ones. This caused great rejoicing as the Plugolites had never actually forced an issue with the humans before.
There was much jubliation down the plughole, and harmony was restored, and blisters gone.
BEYOND THE PLUGHOLE - THE BUBBLE FESTIVAL by John Townsend Story 7
Throughout the year, certain brave Plugolites had ventured to the very rims of the sink plugholes capturing any residue that the humans may have left of washing up liquid. No matter how small the collection it would be saved in their storehouses ready for The Bubble Festival. Each participant would use his collection of washing up liquid to create a spectacular midnight bubble run. The idea was that the liquid would be transformed into a huge bubble into which the Plugolite collector would climb. Then at a U-bend he would be pushed over the edge hurtling down the measured course, through every waste pipe and every drain pipe down into the sewers. At strategic points adjudicators would be watching the proceedings as the bubble riders rolled past, unfair use of extra washing-up liquid after the push off from the U-bend would bring an instant disqualification. However, a few have tried to fool the adjudicators and had their bubble burst at the next check point, the rules are strict.
Betting on the race was at a feverish point as the clear favourite Festus Tickle was readying himself with his washing up liquid. With a hefty blow he created an enormous bubble into which he slipped. The race attendants looked at him for confermation that he was ready, then the countdown. Five, Four, Three, Two, One. With a hefty push he was propelled over the edge of the U-bend tumbling down the waste pipe. The plugolites shouted and cheered as he sped past rolling and tumbling as his bubble hit the sides of the pipes.There were nervous eyes looking as he reached the most dangerous point, a place where many a bubble explodes, the drain pipe. With a rush of back draft he was flung over the edge into the drain pipe intact, a great cheer went up, almost audible at the humans sink plug hole.
festus Tickle was thrilled as he headed into the sewers, by his own reckonings he was faster than last year, his face was beaming as he past the final thre adjudicators heading to the final point at which the speed of each bubble runner was checked, and a winner declared.
As Festus Tickle passed the final flag he cheered out aloud, at the same time he burst his own bubble and emerged jubilant of his thrilling race.
It was a full twenty minutes as other contestants ran their bubbles to the maximum, in all thirty bubbles had started, eleven had burst, one hit an adjudicator and was knocked into the wrong sewer, leaving eighteen that had finished the run.
So it was the announcement was about to be made. Bubble Festival Custodian Hillary Fling stood by the rostrum, poised with the megaphone to her lips and declared, 'It is with great, great pleasure I announce that the winner of the downhill Bubble Festival Bubble Race is, for the second year running, Festus Tickle.' A huge cry of joy ran through all the pipes the sewers and out of the plugholes as the festivities began, though the Plugolite bookies were less than happy.
BEYOND THE PLUGHOLE - MY NAME IS by John Townsend Story 6
At The Post office, deep in the lod iron waste pipes, five Plugolites excitedly talk about their new names. "I cannot believe i am actually a Bill, its strange?" one said as another interupted, "Well I heard one of the humans say she was Ethel and I like it." However it was pointed out, "You know you cannot change it, and I know that the name Ethel is not a mans name, but it is now." Ethel looked rather angry as he retorted to "Jennifer your just rude, so what, and yes it is a mans name now."
One of the pthers joined in, "So what, we are not humans thank goodness,these are our names, thats why I decided,on Takeaway as my name, it was always said when I could smell nice smells." The fifth Plugolite felt compelled to add, "Well I did not want a human name, so I took one of those four legs names, thats why I chose Rover."
Bill was most annoyed and interupted them all, "William the first said it was a good thing so lets not start arguing." The rest all took the point and settled back to clean the mulch of of pipe number five.
As the day progressed other groups were also engaged in exchanging their new names, as were those at The Courthose. It was around the washroom main waste that all three were chatting away. "So do you like my name M'Lord? its good is it not." He looked around for an enthused response then one replied, "It is alright, but mine has a ring about it,Bench." Her comments only enraged Honour, "My name is supirior than both of yours." she exclaimed.
The soon quitend down when they heard the courtroom sound system announce, "Silense please all arise."
"They coulfnt hear us could they?" asked a nervouse Bench. M'Lord reassured saying, "Dont be silly they say that throughout the day, I think I have heard some snoring thats why they say it."
The exchanging of names continude throughout Plughole, and soon it was found to be most agreable.
BEYOND THE PLUGHOLE - WHY DO HUMANS HAVE NAMES? by John Townsend Story 5
it all began when one of the wisest of The Plugolite group was peering out through an overflow pipe near to platform three. He was keenly interested in the comings and goings of the humans who used the station. On this day he was almost in a daydream pondering as to why the humans called each other by names; you see the practice among Plugolites is to either recognise a face or sniff the palm of their hand. It had fallen into his mind that what the humans do is rather pleasent, and he thought very acceptable. The thought was such that he planned to raise the matter at the next Plugolite comvention at the Crossroad sewer pipes, next week,weather pending dry.
Well the convention arrived and the weather was dry, Plugolites arrived along all the main waste pipe and main line sewerage routes to be there, it was one of those events no one would want to miss.
The wisest of the Municiple Station group stood up to speak at one pm. he being a well respected Plugolite meant that everyone would listen to his speach with interest; and so he begun, "My friends, my children. i have always sought to find ways that we can advance ourselves, gain a higher understanding of ourselves. So I have been studying the human beings, their ways and their habits. Not all is useful, indeed their wasteful ways are our cherished gains, but, I have come to note one thing that they do that I find a wonderful thing. They greet each other with their own personal name." As he said those words a soft 'OOHhh' ran through the Crossroads sewer pipes, it was as if a monumental thing was about to be declared. So he paused as they 'OOHHH'D', then he continued. "So I have had words with the Plugolite Counsel and it has been agreed, that from next week we can all adopt our own personal names." There was tremdous applause, then he added, "It has been agreed that once you adopt a personal name it cannot be changed, so think about it before declaring your adopted name."
He yhen smiled as he confessed, "I must confess that I have chosen my name, I am William the First." Again there was an applause, this time lasting for several minutes.
That evening as The Plugolites returned to there waste pipe residencies, they were full of the joys of finding a name for themselves to adopt, this has never happened in Plughole.
BEYOND THE PLUGHOLE--THE DENTAL PRACTICE by John Townsend Story 4
There the Gurgle Alarms were going all the time, if it was not the mouth suction it was the spitoon, or the sink or the hand basin, it was Gurgle Alarms all round for most of the day.
Certainly bad for the Plugolites hearing, which is already sensitive.
So how did those living at the dental practice become rich? Well they had clever knack of using fishing nets on rods, with a Plugolite each side of a waste pipe, As a patient was asked by the dentist to rinse out, The Plugolites would catch the rich pickings of metal fillings, and even gold scrappings have been known. On a good day they would collect a bagfull which they would sell to the buyer Plugolite who lived at the bank buildings; there they would recieve Plugolite-credits which could be used to purchase clothes, umberellas, rain hats all the luxuries that being rich could buy.
One day a most fortunate rich picking. Above a dentist was struggling to treat a very nervous client, when the mouth suction in the clients mouth sucked a gold tooth all the way down the waste pipe. Oh there were screams above, but below in Plughole there were oohs! and aahs as the cature nets caught this fat gold tooth. The Plugolites could not believe their eyes. "A lump of gold, would I believe it could ever happen?" said the Plugolite who lifted the gold tooth high in the waste pipe for all to see.
Before taking it to the Plugolites at the bank, they polished it and sat it on the dining table for all to admire.
Word travelled far among Plughole, their wealth and fame at capturing a real gold tooth became folklore. Even songs were sung about the event. Such is the wonder of being a rich Plugolite.
BEYOND THE PLUGHOLE--THE PLUMMER by John Townsend Story 3
So it was they relaxed in Plughole without a care in the world. Well that was how it was supposed to be. At 11am on Saturday their whole world began to thunder and shake, little did they know that the plumber was in the building and was checking a few waste pipes. It came as a mighty shock when the U-Bend started to twist and turn, they ran for their lives as the water in the U-Bend disappeared out of a crack that was appearing. The plumber was unscrewing the U-Bend, checking any blockage, he had been told that there were very loud gurgling sounds emitting from the hand basin in the ladies washroom.
As he disconnected the waste pipe from the U-Bend he heard loud gurgling deep in the waste pipe. Of corse he had no idea he had set of all the Plugolites Gurgle Alarms, suddenly to the plumbers astonishment, the whole building came aliove with the sound of gurgling. Every single waste and sink was gurgling in a persistance that defied the plumbers knowledge. As he removed the U-Bend to take a look The Plugolites had decided to take action to protect their interests. As the plumber leaned down to peer into the now open waste pipe, curious as to why this gurgling was still going on, one of The Plugolites threw a lump of pipe sludge straight into his face. It was a perfect direct hit on the bridge of his nose. "My, what did that, never had that happen." he exclaimed. Then after wiping the sludge off of his nose, he leaned forward again, determined to see if there was a blockage causing the gurgling. This time three of The Plugolites had prepared themselves with pipe sludge, so as his face appeared at the opening of the waste pipe, Slap! a lump of sludge came flying out, then another, and then another.
Concerned that a lot more might emerge, he re-connected the U-Bend to the waste pipe, and decided to just flush water down the pipes first, in the hope it might clear itself.
More than Pleased The Plugolites stamped their feet all along the pipes, at the same time the Gurgle Alarms continued. The plumber could see the pipes were as if shaking, and could hear the gurgling everywhere. As he flushed water out of the hand basin. The Plugolites ran for cover, The shking of the pipes stopped and as soon as the water was gone, the gurgling stopped.
The plumber shook his head, "I guess that cleared some blockages, thank goodness. Thats me done." he said and packed his wrench away.
Down in Plughole, The Plugolites were joyus as they heard his footsteps leave and the Civic building doors close, "Perhaps we can do a spot of bathing at the U-Bend again now." they said, as peace was restored in Plughole.
BEYOND THE PLUGHOLE--STINKMANIA by John Townsend Story 3
Well in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Bumkin, who were actually running the village dairy farm, it had been a very busy day for Mr.Bumkin, he had just mucked out the cattle sheds, which had been full all day due to the cows sheltering from the sun.
Normally he would hose himself down before returning to house for a bath, but on this day the outside water supply was being repaired. Filled with appologies to his wife due to the enormus pong, he headed for a soaking in the bath.
Well he soaked for twenty minutes, but even with bath oils, the pong was so strong he could hardly breath. Well he stepped out of the bath and dried himself. The he removed the bath plug emptying the smelly water.
Well the Gurgle Alarms sounded and the Plugolites were hurrying all over the place, as they moved their possesions to a safe place. It was at this point that their Stinkmania Alarm sounded a dreadful 'Glub glub' as the offending dirt and sludge from Mr.Bumkins body began to block the waste pipe, at the same time trapping the Plugolites in a pong filled enviroment, that was making them cough serverely.
One of the Plugolites suggested that they use the emergency Waggle Suction, a method of stamping their feet on the walls of the waste pipes, causing a vibration that sometimes releases the blockages. So they Waggled with force, as the pong grew greater and greater.
Mr.Bumkin could see what he had done, and resorted to using a plunger, much to the relief of all the exhuasted Plugolites.
Once, twice he used the plunger, then whoosh, all the Gurgle Alarms sounded in loud acclaim, while a cheer rose from the Plugolites as down the waste went the pong as well, oh what a relief.
Being a Plugolite on a farm is not a merry life indeed.
BEYOND THE PLUGHOLE--THE BOY WITH THE STRAW by John Townsend Story 2
Well in that house, down among the waste pipes the family of Plugolites had become used to this boys loud whinging voice, and because he hated baths they were more than aware of his shouting and mischievious ways. So it was no surprise that one day when instructed to wash his hands by his mother he protested at the highest level. It was unfortunate for The Plugolites that his mother told him to stay in the bathroom until his hands were clean. Well he moaned and moaned, and just to annoying him one Plugolite manually operated the Gurgle Alarm repeatedly, everytime the boy gave out a moan. So it was, moan, gurgle, moan gurgle. This went on for several minutes, capturing the boys attention, as he wandered acroos to the hand basin to investigate the noise everytime he moaned.
He was annoyed because he felt the hand basin was making a fool of him, so he said to the hand basin, "Stop that right now or I will tell my father, and he is an important man."
This greatly amused The Plugolite down in the waste pipes, he responded by sounding the Gurgle Alarm several times in defiance of the boys remarks. Greatly annoyed the boy found a long drinking straw in his pocket, and smirked as he poked it down the hand basin plughole, and blew hard at the end sticking out. The force of the blast of air sent The Plugolite tumbling off balance, but quickly he restored himself and gave a loud blast on the Gurgle Alarm.
"Alright you big head basin," , the boy began to say, "if you want war then take this." Then the boy took a drink of water from a mug nearby and blasted it down the hand basin plughole. This set off the automatic system for the Gurgle Alarms, as well as knocking The Plugolite off his feet yet again.
It was then that The Plugolite thought of the perfect answer. Often things get washed down waste pipes that The Plugolites collect, there in a nearbay bend was a thin strip of soap. Well if The Plugolites have one gracious gift it is a powerful set of lungs. He stuffed the thin strip of soap into the end of the straw at his end, and then streached his mouth over the end of the straw. He could see the boys face peering through the plughole. He watched and waited, and then it happened, as soon as he saw the boy go to place his mouth over the end of the straw, The Plugolite took a large intake of air, maximising his huge lung capacity; then with a mighty blast he blew the soap up and out of the protuding straw, just as the irritating boy was taking in a gasp of air. Zap, straight into the boys mouth went the soap, straight into his throat. "AHG!" he shouted, running out of the bathroom calling for his mother. By now his mouth was begining to show signs of soapy froth around his lips as well as around his teeth as he called out, "Mummy, I have swallowed some soap, help!"
The Plugolite could hear all that was going on and smiled to himself, then to his surprise he heard a round of applause from behind, the rest of The Plugolites had been watching and were all cheering, "At last the brat has had a taste of his own medicine." they agreed,
Just another day in Plughole.
BEYOND THE PLUGHOLE by John Townsend Story 1
Well how would like it if you lived in a place called Plughole, no! no! do not laugh, this is for real. There are a nation of small people, Plugolites, they live in the back and beyond of the Plughole.
I can feel you do not believe me! So I will ask you to perform a simple experiment to proove it is true.
Go into your bathroom, half fill the sink with cold water, pull out the plug and listen.
Who is making that gurgling sound? No it is not trapped air, It is the Plugolites, they are frantically sounding their Gurgle Alarms everytime water is flushed down the waste pipes into Plughole. It is a most annoying time as their Gurgle Alarms are sounded, they have to run for cover, gathering all their belongings as the waters come gushing through.
For the Pluolites the evenings are the most rested of times, things settle down, but the morning is one scramble after another, in some house an endless session of waste pipe discharges. Then the later morning into the afternoon, washing machines sending dirty foaming water , it is at this time the Plugolites move away from kitchen waste pipes to the bathroom areas for a more restful day.
It is with urgency I ask you to consider the plight of the Plugolites everytime you flush away your waste water.
When you hear the gurgle sound call out loudly, 'I do appologies.' it makes them feel apprieciated and loved.
At the same time sing this song,
------------
Down the plughole
down you go
Oh I'm sorry
I appologies
down the plughole
live my friends
hope the water
dont make you wet.
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THE THINGAMYJIG by John Townsend
It arrived in the post, just a small package. I was not expecting anything, so I was very curious as who had sent this and what it might be.
So in eager excitement I unwrapped the package, and was pleased to find a letter folded around a cardboard box.
The letter said,'Please forgive me, I shall forever be in you debt. Perhaps you will accept this that has perplexed me for such a long time, so much so it has made me a nervous wreck. I had no one to turn to, where ever I left it people saw. So they always returned it, I think you will understand, I am sure.'
Well as I read it I admit I was a trifle nervous as to what it might be. The box was too small for it to be a Python, a Crocodile, so what was it. After a short period of thought about the letter with it, I decided to open the box.
Inside was a round object with a key protuding on one side, like a clockwork mechanism key. I picked it up and looked at it, then noticed a printed note inside the box, instructions. Ah ha I thought, then read. 'Instructions for The THINGAMYJIG' I laughed at its name, then was shocked as the round object declared aloud. 'Wind me up, wind me up.' Which it incessantly repeated over and over, non stop.
I anxiously read the rest of the instructions which simply said. 'Always wind up, never disregard. Insanity is just moments away.'
Oh my I though, as I found myself doing as instructed, winding the round object up. It was then with great relief that the object ceased to shout demands of 'Wind me up.' What a relief that was.
I was not impressed with the sender one bit, nor was I later that afternoon when the Thingamyjig started to shout out its demands once again.
Do not ask me why I obeyed it and wound it up, leave it there I did. That evening, through the night, all through the next day and into the week ahead. It was driving me mad.
I did try to leave it in supermaket, but a shop assitant came running over with it, 'I think this is yours sir.' she said, I nodded politely. In fact every time I attempted to dump it, it came back.
After a month I was a sleep deprived nut, and shouted at the round object in full throttle. My behaviour changed, friends noticed I was off and avoided me.
In the end I decided to send it to anyone, for the last time I wound it up, put it in a box and addressed it to President Obama The White House, Washington.
I hurried to the Post Office and dispatched it. With great relief I watched as it was dropped into the mail bag.
When I arrived home there was a note pushed through my door, 'Wind me up, wind me up.'
Is this a wind up I thought.
So in eager excitement I unwrapped the package, and was pleased to find a letter folded around a cardboard box.
The letter said,'Please forgive me, I shall forever be in you debt. Perhaps you will accept this that has perplexed me for such a long time, so much so it has made me a nervous wreck. I had no one to turn to, where ever I left it people saw. So they always returned it, I think you will understand, I am sure.'
Well as I read it I admit I was a trifle nervous as to what it might be. The box was too small for it to be a Python, a Crocodile, so what was it. After a short period of thought about the letter with it, I decided to open the box.
Inside was a round object with a key protuding on one side, like a clockwork mechanism key. I picked it up and looked at it, then noticed a printed note inside the box, instructions. Ah ha I thought, then read. 'Instructions for The THINGAMYJIG' I laughed at its name, then was shocked as the round object declared aloud. 'Wind me up, wind me up.' Which it incessantly repeated over and over, non stop.
I anxiously read the rest of the instructions which simply said. 'Always wind up, never disregard. Insanity is just moments away.'
Oh my I though, as I found myself doing as instructed, winding the round object up. It was then with great relief that the object ceased to shout demands of 'Wind me up.' What a relief that was.
I was not impressed with the sender one bit, nor was I later that afternoon when the Thingamyjig started to shout out its demands once again.
Do not ask me why I obeyed it and wound it up, leave it there I did. That evening, through the night, all through the next day and into the week ahead. It was driving me mad.
I did try to leave it in supermaket, but a shop assitant came running over with it, 'I think this is yours sir.' she said, I nodded politely. In fact every time I attempted to dump it, it came back.
After a month I was a sleep deprived nut, and shouted at the round object in full throttle. My behaviour changed, friends noticed I was off and avoided me.
In the end I decided to send it to anyone, for the last time I wound it up, put it in a box and addressed it to President Obama The White House, Washington.
I hurried to the Post Office and dispatched it. With great relief I watched as it was dropped into the mail bag.
When I arrived home there was a note pushed through my door, 'Wind me up, wind me up.'
Is this a wind up I thought.
ANCIENT RIGHTS by John Townsend
They wanted to build a hypermarket on the edge of town, understandably the local shopkeepers were none to pleased, already times were difficult, why make it more so.
Well the plans were approved and the builders moved in, clearing the land and laying the foundations, The Pavillion Hypermarket was on its way.
It was not without its setbacks, several times in fact. The first was the buldozers that could not operate in a certain area of the land. Oh it's true, everytime they started to clear a certain area, as soon as they entered that perimeter, the engines went dead. Of the five buldozers used all failed to operate in that area. Despite the attempts to locate the problem it was not found, instead the land was cleared using hard labour. In fact twenty men were used to begin clearing, from day one it was disarster, all those men failed to understand what they were supposed to do, they wandered around like they had not a clue. Even the team supervisor was taken funny when he walked in to try and sort it out, he engaged all the team to sing some Irish bar songs.
After five months the project was scrapped, the company could give no explanation for their inability to start the project.
That plot of land has never been touched, The farmer who owned it before it was bought for developement, he was never able to toil the land.
Several years passed by and an ancient document was found, it strangly enough told of that section of land, the document said it was the burial land of ten travellers who arrived in a firery machine in the year 1567. The story tells of their all becoming ill, so ill that whoever came near to them also became ill.
The document said that twenty seven people all became ill, and that during their time of illness they glowed a vivid green. They all died and a Priest took it upon himself alone to bury all the souls and the ten travellers. They were laid to rest in that very field. The priest disappeared, no one knew where he had gone, except for a note that was left in the church he held a congregation in. The note said, 'Never will the land be used, nor will our lives be over.'
Even wild animals keep away from that field.
Well the plans were approved and the builders moved in, clearing the land and laying the foundations, The Pavillion Hypermarket was on its way.
It was not without its setbacks, several times in fact. The first was the buldozers that could not operate in a certain area of the land. Oh it's true, everytime they started to clear a certain area, as soon as they entered that perimeter, the engines went dead. Of the five buldozers used all failed to operate in that area. Despite the attempts to locate the problem it was not found, instead the land was cleared using hard labour. In fact twenty men were used to begin clearing, from day one it was disarster, all those men failed to understand what they were supposed to do, they wandered around like they had not a clue. Even the team supervisor was taken funny when he walked in to try and sort it out, he engaged all the team to sing some Irish bar songs.
After five months the project was scrapped, the company could give no explanation for their inability to start the project.
That plot of land has never been touched, The farmer who owned it before it was bought for developement, he was never able to toil the land.
Several years passed by and an ancient document was found, it strangly enough told of that section of land, the document said it was the burial land of ten travellers who arrived in a firery machine in the year 1567. The story tells of their all becoming ill, so ill that whoever came near to them also became ill.
The document said that twenty seven people all became ill, and that during their time of illness they glowed a vivid green. They all died and a Priest took it upon himself alone to bury all the souls and the ten travellers. They were laid to rest in that very field. The priest disappeared, no one knew where he had gone, except for a note that was left in the church he held a congregation in. The note said, 'Never will the land be used, nor will our lives be over.'
Even wild animals keep away from that field.
CARELESS CLARISSA by John Townsend
The highlight of the evening was the arrival of Bob Fusz, the star of the box office smash 'No Time For Turnips'
Clarissa was there ready to catch his eye as soon as he stepped out of his limo. What she did not know was that Bob Fusz was not what he appeared. In his movies he was seen as a six foot six pack, ready to blow all contenders away just at the flick of his hair. In truth he was four foot ten inches and wore incredable built up shoes that he could barely navigate, he had no six pack, just a body belt to tuck it all in, and to cap all that he was not endowed with a head of hair that the movies show, he was balding on top with sprouting hair at the sides.
However this was the Artist Awards, and he was the star attraction, so he was decked out like the movie images.
As his limo pulled alongside the long red carpet, Clarissa moved in, her heart pounding at the thought of interviewing her dream star.. From the moment he stepped out, as soon as his feet settled on the red carpet, she was there.
The limo door was held open as he stood upright, and cameras flashed all around. His face beamed a huge sanitized smile that exploded in the camera flashes, causing Clarissa's eyes to play tricks, to mis-judge her footing. It was this that caused her to catch her shoes in the edge of the red carpet, with the microphone outstreahed she fell headlong towards Bob Fusz, who made an attempt to catch her, being the man he is, however it did not go according to plan.
As she fell forward and he reached to catch her, he destablised himself in his five inch built up shoes, he lost balance and went down ontop of Clarissa. The microphone picked up his words as he fell, it sounded like, "Awe you stupid bitch!"
Clarissa being Clarissa heard what she wanted to hear and was overcome with her dream man wrapped on top of her. She though he said give us a kiss. So she did just that and he struggled to get away. It was as he did that she reached to touch his hair, but as he stood up, assisted by a group of attendants, she found herself holding his hairpiece.
Annoyed and angry he turned to return to the limo, which unfortunately was moving away to let another pull in, and at the same time Clarissa had grabbed a hold of Bob Fusz trousers to pull herself up and off of the floor.
Well one thing led to another, she unwitingly pulled his trousers down to reveal his body built, along with some fat lumps hanging over the top.
He was quickly moved into another limo while Cl;arissa was dragged away by the attendants, while unbeknown by them still holding Bob Fusz trousers. There was a loud rip as well as a lot of laughter, but careless Clarissa had made what could have been her last interview for HaireeTV.
DID I, DO I KNOW YOU? by John Townsend
It had been more than 40 years since we last met, heaven knows what she will think of me.
You see Marina and I, we were very good friends, who I hoped might hit it off, though it was all rural affection at the moment, but I was determined to win her over. Then one day I went out to do some shopping and when I returned, she was gone. I thought she had popped out as well, so I carried on as normal. Well after a couple of hours and an attempt to call her mobile, which I discovered she laft here at the flat, I was at a loss as to know what to think.
At the time we were staying in a rented flat in Porta Glasinna, Spain. We were on a mission to explore the Spanish countryside and find ourselves a studio to create and paint. We were very happy, young, stupidly funny, seldom had a cross word with each other, what happened just made no sense at all.
Anyway after 4 hours I called the police, who just seemed to find my concern amusing, suggesting that Marina had another love, and had simply walked out on me. After a couple of days they did open an enquiry and filed her as a missing person.
All her belongings were still at the flat, her passport, even the experts seemed baffeled as to her whereabouts.
I travelled through the loss, the challenges, along with the acceptance that this was almost a no answer situation. Then, after 4 months I had to leave Spain and return to the UK. It was there I used all the methods that I could to find her, trace her whereabouts. I used the media, posted internet site searches, and returned to Spain on a regular basis to retraces all the places and routes we had taken.
I was 22 then, now I am 62 and dying with a terminal condition, I say that to not gain sympathy just to help you understand my grief.
Well last week I was at my computer when I found an email which simply said 'Call me'. I could only go on the senders address that it had a route from Australia, anyway I hit reply and said, 'You said call, I am.'
Several hours later a reply dropped into my emails. 'I am sorry, Marina.' My blood pressure hit the roof and I thought it was a practical joke, then I saw there was an attachment, which I opened. It was a photograph of Marina,, one taken way back there in Spain 40 years ago, then there was another one, a beared man perhaps in his early sixties. There was nothing else, no further text, nothing. I hit reply and asked, 'Who are you?'
The following day I had to go to hospital for treatment, and was too crashed out to even open my computer. So it was the following day that I checked my emails, sure enough there was an email, this time it was a bit more detailed. ' I am the person you called Marina, but now I am Marty, I am sorry that I fooled you, I should have told you I was a man, the trouble was me, I was trying to push aside my gender, trying to hide in the affection you felt for me, but I realised it was not as I had hoped for, so I saved you the distress and left. My gender was not the problem it was your gender, I made a serious mistake. I am sorry. Please forgive me. I did try to find you, but you had left Spain, then I strayed across the world. I am sorry.'
I was too ill to show any real emotion, so I went to bed, I have asked my friend to finish the story.
Two days later:
Richard passed away during the night, he had not said a word since reading the email from Marina/Marty. Sadly he was a broken man throughout all those years, and in his last hours.
You see Marina and I, we were very good friends, who I hoped might hit it off, though it was all rural affection at the moment, but I was determined to win her over. Then one day I went out to do some shopping and when I returned, she was gone. I thought she had popped out as well, so I carried on as normal. Well after a couple of hours and an attempt to call her mobile, which I discovered she laft here at the flat, I was at a loss as to know what to think.
At the time we were staying in a rented flat in Porta Glasinna, Spain. We were on a mission to explore the Spanish countryside and find ourselves a studio to create and paint. We were very happy, young, stupidly funny, seldom had a cross word with each other, what happened just made no sense at all.
Anyway after 4 hours I called the police, who just seemed to find my concern amusing, suggesting that Marina had another love, and had simply walked out on me. After a couple of days they did open an enquiry and filed her as a missing person.
All her belongings were still at the flat, her passport, even the experts seemed baffeled as to her whereabouts.
I travelled through the loss, the challenges, along with the acceptance that this was almost a no answer situation. Then, after 4 months I had to leave Spain and return to the UK. It was there I used all the methods that I could to find her, trace her whereabouts. I used the media, posted internet site searches, and returned to Spain on a regular basis to retraces all the places and routes we had taken.
I was 22 then, now I am 62 and dying with a terminal condition, I say that to not gain sympathy just to help you understand my grief.
Well last week I was at my computer when I found an email which simply said 'Call me'. I could only go on the senders address that it had a route from Australia, anyway I hit reply and said, 'You said call, I am.'
Several hours later a reply dropped into my emails. 'I am sorry, Marina.' My blood pressure hit the roof and I thought it was a practical joke, then I saw there was an attachment, which I opened. It was a photograph of Marina,, one taken way back there in Spain 40 years ago, then there was another one, a beared man perhaps in his early sixties. There was nothing else, no further text, nothing. I hit reply and asked, 'Who are you?'
The following day I had to go to hospital for treatment, and was too crashed out to even open my computer. So it was the following day that I checked my emails, sure enough there was an email, this time it was a bit more detailed. ' I am the person you called Marina, but now I am Marty, I am sorry that I fooled you, I should have told you I was a man, the trouble was me, I was trying to push aside my gender, trying to hide in the affection you felt for me, but I realised it was not as I had hoped for, so I saved you the distress and left. My gender was not the problem it was your gender, I made a serious mistake. I am sorry. Please forgive me. I did try to find you, but you had left Spain, then I strayed across the world. I am sorry.'
I was too ill to show any real emotion, so I went to bed, I have asked my friend to finish the story.
Two days later:
Richard passed away during the night, he had not said a word since reading the email from Marina/Marty. Sadly he was a broken man throughout all those years, and in his last hours.
THE COSMIC MIRRORS COMPANY by John Townsend
In the lower part of town a small warehouse was used by a company calling themselves, 'The Cosmic Mirrors Company'. They created the arty farty mirrors that engratiated the walls of theaters, the homes of stars and the rich. top of the range and crafted by artists they were the must have for many.
The brand name boomed as their reputation soared when even the presidential residence placed an order.
They were a unique mirror that employed technology which was self adgusting to lighting conditions, supporting all manner of partial and heavily lit areas.
However what no one except Theo Rythum, knew the exact nature of Cosmic Mirrors and the agenda that they were involved in.
Every Cosmic Mirror was a technological miracle, and every image that was reflected was not just reflected there for the observer to see. The technology of these mirrors are from an alien source, they are part of an Earth wide plan to observe all the influential people of the planet; in fact these mirrors are very very sophisticated CCTV units. Each is able to not only watch every action in continuose time, they also transmit the data to an outpost transmitter that has been on the Moon for more than twenty years.
The transmission data is carried by negitive light waves, a method that is unknown to Earth sources, in fact it is a source so cheap and rich in uses the alien s cannot understand why Earthlings have clung to electricity for so long. None the less it has provided the aliens with many years of insight into the developement of Earth society, soon it will be the uncovering of a new begining for Earth, the end of all evil war lords.
If you would like a Cosmic Mirror
just call Jeffersun 202021 456110.
Remember you are being watched.
The brand name boomed as their reputation soared when even the presidential residence placed an order.
They were a unique mirror that employed technology which was self adgusting to lighting conditions, supporting all manner of partial and heavily lit areas.
However what no one except Theo Rythum, knew the exact nature of Cosmic Mirrors and the agenda that they were involved in.
Every Cosmic Mirror was a technological miracle, and every image that was reflected was not just reflected there for the observer to see. The technology of these mirrors are from an alien source, they are part of an Earth wide plan to observe all the influential people of the planet; in fact these mirrors are very very sophisticated CCTV units. Each is able to not only watch every action in continuose time, they also transmit the data to an outpost transmitter that has been on the Moon for more than twenty years.
The transmission data is carried by negitive light waves, a method that is unknown to Earth sources, in fact it is a source so cheap and rich in uses the alien s cannot understand why Earthlings have clung to electricity for so long. None the less it has provided the aliens with many years of insight into the developement of Earth society, soon it will be the uncovering of a new begining for Earth, the end of all evil war lords.
If you would like a Cosmic Mirror
just call Jeffersun 202021 456110.
Remember you are being watched.
THE PHEONIX CINEMA by John Townsend
The biggest problem was the local preservation society, they had done their utmost to prevent the old Pheonix Cinema from demolition, and give them credit they did present a good case, however at the end of the day they had no funds to buy the site, and no economic plan to not pull it down, so it was going.
It was the second day into the demolishion, several workers had become decidedly nervous about working on the inside, ripping out all the seating. Three workers ran from the building when they heard machine guns firing, another swore he heard Edward G Robinson before the gun fire. another worker who was ripping out the stage, said he could hear tap dancing all over the place thought he heard an orchestra playing 'Puttin' on the Ritz'.
It was when the roof was caved in that hundreds of people said they could hear a ships fog horn blowing and people calling for help, some said they heard aircraft swooping low and the sound of bombs being exploded.
It was the third day and the outer walls were being smashed to the ground. It must have been sheer bad luck on the part of the demolishion company, the weather turned as they began to destroy the shell of the old cinema, dust was thrown high into the air engulfing all for hundreds of meters around. Amid the dust hundreds said they could hear the music from Gone With The Wind.
Now I know you will find what happened after the wind had died down, as being impossible to believe, I too fell into that same line. You see what happened as the dust fell was that where a demolishion site was, a brand new cinema was standing, pristine with lights all aglow, and across the front of the cinema was a neon sign saying Pheonix Cinema. On the walls outside were poster declaring 'We Never Close'
No one believes the story when I tell it I wonder why?
The Tired and Imbibed Public Speaker by John Townsend
With a shove from behind, he suddenly had no choice but to be in total eye contact with his audience, a gathering of the Fawn Lawns Ladies Guild.
The appluase now rose in volume and in so doing sealed his fate as to where he was going to be for the next twenty minutes.
He coughed several times, once rather too close to the microphone causing an explosion like sound that made several ladies look around nervously.
He gathered his notes, not paying any attention to the order, then started to speak. "Good and gracious ladies of the, the?" he pauses to recall who he is talking to, a voice quitely prompts him, "Fawn Lawns Ladies Guild, you silly old fart." He coughs again the resumes, "The Fart lawns gay ladies guild."
There was a lot of muttering, some in shock, however Edward Anover carried on as he lifted one of his notes. "The end is better than the begining, as I have written here, in that it may be," He shuffles through his notes trying to locate page one, but his eyes are none too good due to the drink. He gathers a page believing it to be page one, then continues, "A tin of Tuna, Potatoes, two pints of milk, and some cheese?" Again he pauses realizing he has found a shopping list rather than his speach. Quickly he gathers another sheet and rambles into it, "So you know the way, dig deep for what you believe, mat the sun always shine."
A voice wispers from behind, "Tell them about the day trippers." He half hears and becomes very confused as he repeats the words he think he heard. "And not to forget to mention the ladt strippers, whoever you are?" He was swaying a little as laughter broke out, then gathering another of his notes he attempts to read, "And to that end I will join with you, we shall show this town what we are made of, you do not mess with fat fawn gay ladies."
With that he sat down unaware he had pushed his chair back when he stood up. To the audiebce he just disappeared from sight amid a crashing to the rear of the stage. Quickly he was escourted out of the building as a member of the commitee rose to take charge of the situation.
It is true to say he never was asked to speak there again.
You Can Always Rely On The Post by John Townsend
There was a time when you could count on the post, it would fall threw your letter box almost the same time everyday. Oh here we go, the 'in my day' recycle. But none the less it is true.
Last week I recieved an extraordinary letter, I just opened it and read, it was addressed to me, never looked at the date.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bourbon Solictitors
Telford Buildings
Ash Road
Telford
14 september 1919
Dear Mr. Andrew Walsh,
It has come to our attention that you are the sole surviving benifactor of the Ewart Much estate.. Ewart Much died with no direct decendants, however our records show that in years to come, there would be an heir through an illigitamte child, of which we had no knowledge of at the time. The estate will be held in trust as Ewart Much decided it would be, until an heir could be found.
According to our records you might be that heir to the $5 million sum held with us.
It would be apprieciated if you could meet with me at the public entrance to The House of Commons in London August 27 2009, at 10.30 am. I will know who you are from a picture I have been sent.
Yours Sincerly
James Bourbon
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
I handed the letter to my wife to read, 'Here take a look at this letter .' I said.
As she read it she creased up laughing, 'Its a joke, look at the date.' she told me. With great disappointment I did take a look, '14 September 1919, thats strange?' Jill just laughed saying, 'Its not strange its a joke.'
I did not tell Jill that I took a day off work to go to meet this James Bourbon, she would have though I was mad, or worse. Well I am glad I did.
I was there at 10 am, in plenty of time, there was a cue forming to go into The House of Commons so I stepped to one side, as I did a man tapped me on the shoulder. 'Andrew Walsh! I am James Bourbon, shall we have tea sir?' he asked. I was astounded as he was dressed in clothes that were not of this time, and people were looking.
I followed him to a fast food place across the road, as we crossed the busy road he said, 'I must say it is a lot cleaner than my time, packed with wretched horse droppings it be, this is so much better.'
He had a Mexican Burger which he seemed to enjoy so much I ordered another.
'Now let me explain' he said. 'Ewart Much was an engineer with a difference, he invented a machine that he said could take people to the future. However he was not sure if it could take them back.'
He paused to take a bite of his burger. 'Well he would be pleased to know it does take you back, he left it to me in his will and I have used it on several investigations, highly useful. Now in your case, you have inherited a great sum of money, It was deposited in the trustee account with The National Bank in New York, That has changed hands a few times but I checked today and it is valued at $98 billion, so you are a very rich man.' He handed me some papers and asked me to sign them. He then passed me a letter of authority. As he finished his burger he stood up, shook my hand and said, 'May I wish you well, it has been a pleasure meeting you and tasting this? burger. You will have to go to New York to open the account, in it are some documents and a letter from Ewart Much. I am sorry but this time machine only allows for two hour stays, so I must leave, do take care sir.' With that he hurried away, leaving me clutching this letter of authority.
I followed him out of the fast food place as he hurried along the pavement. He stopped by the roadside and seemed to be arguing with a traffic warden who was sticking a parking ticket on what looked like a metal box. I continude to watch as Mr. Bourbon stepped into the box through a door at the rear. A minut later, much to the traffic wardens shock, the black metal box just disappeared.
I did tell Jill what had happened and we both flew to New York. We presented ourselves at the National Bank and found ourselves to suddenly have become celebraties. News people appeared, television interviews, it was all true, I had become a very rich man, by default I guess.
Last week I recieved an extraordinary letter, I just opened it and read, it was addressed to me, never looked at the date.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bourbon Solictitors
Telford Buildings
Ash Road
Telford
14 september 1919
Dear Mr. Andrew Walsh,
It has come to our attention that you are the sole surviving benifactor of the Ewart Much estate.. Ewart Much died with no direct decendants, however our records show that in years to come, there would be an heir through an illigitamte child, of which we had no knowledge of at the time. The estate will be held in trust as Ewart Much decided it would be, until an heir could be found.
According to our records you might be that heir to the $5 million sum held with us.
It would be apprieciated if you could meet with me at the public entrance to The House of Commons in London August 27 2009, at 10.30 am. I will know who you are from a picture I have been sent.
Yours Sincerly
James Bourbon
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
I handed the letter to my wife to read, 'Here take a look at this letter .' I said.
As she read it she creased up laughing, 'Its a joke, look at the date.' she told me. With great disappointment I did take a look, '14 September 1919, thats strange?' Jill just laughed saying, 'Its not strange its a joke.'
I did not tell Jill that I took a day off work to go to meet this James Bourbon, she would have though I was mad, or worse. Well I am glad I did.
I was there at 10 am, in plenty of time, there was a cue forming to go into The House of Commons so I stepped to one side, as I did a man tapped me on the shoulder. 'Andrew Walsh! I am James Bourbon, shall we have tea sir?' he asked. I was astounded as he was dressed in clothes that were not of this time, and people were looking.
I followed him to a fast food place across the road, as we crossed the busy road he said, 'I must say it is a lot cleaner than my time, packed with wretched horse droppings it be, this is so much better.'
He had a Mexican Burger which he seemed to enjoy so much I ordered another.
'Now let me explain' he said. 'Ewart Much was an engineer with a difference, he invented a machine that he said could take people to the future. However he was not sure if it could take them back.'
He paused to take a bite of his burger. 'Well he would be pleased to know it does take you back, he left it to me in his will and I have used it on several investigations, highly useful. Now in your case, you have inherited a great sum of money, It was deposited in the trustee account with The National Bank in New York, That has changed hands a few times but I checked today and it is valued at $98 billion, so you are a very rich man.' He handed me some papers and asked me to sign them. He then passed me a letter of authority. As he finished his burger he stood up, shook my hand and said, 'May I wish you well, it has been a pleasure meeting you and tasting this? burger. You will have to go to New York to open the account, in it are some documents and a letter from Ewart Much. I am sorry but this time machine only allows for two hour stays, so I must leave, do take care sir.' With that he hurried away, leaving me clutching this letter of authority.
I followed him out of the fast food place as he hurried along the pavement. He stopped by the roadside and seemed to be arguing with a traffic warden who was sticking a parking ticket on what looked like a metal box. I continude to watch as Mr. Bourbon stepped into the box through a door at the rear. A minut later, much to the traffic wardens shock, the black metal box just disappeared.
I did tell Jill what had happened and we both flew to New York. We presented ourselves at the National Bank and found ourselves to suddenly have become celebraties. News people appeared, television interviews, it was all true, I had become a very rich man, by default I guess.
MR. GREENS SUPERSTORE by John Townsend
I was waiting for a bus to return home, I recall that day well 20 May 2009, left an impression in my mind. The coach was not due for another twenty minutes so I went into Mr. Greens Superstore which was nearby.
It was the wierdest of places, like going back to a time when, well before I was a kid. All the sweets in jars and a long counter behind which a royund man beamed a smile so big you had to smile back. 'Good morning sir how can I help you?' he asked me. I was stil messmerised by the time capsual appearance of this shop, then I asked, 'Excuse me this is just one great shop, I'll have some Humbugs if I may.'
The man reached to a shelf and grasped a jar of stripped Humbugs, ' A quater or a half sir.' he asked me, I replied unsure, 'A half please.' I could hear the Humbugs falling into the wieghing machine tray as I looked out of the shop window, but all elese that I thought, heard or said fell silent. What I could see through the shop window was a world passing by of horse drawn carriages and people in clothes of the 1920's.
'That will be 4 cents sir.' the man behind the counter told me, and I dipped into my pocket gave him dollar. He looked at then he said, 'Oh your from the other side sir, this is not valid here, but you can have the Humbugs on the house.' He then handed the dollar back to me and gave me the Humbugs in a small paper bag, as he did saying, 'Be safe on your way back sir.'
Nervously I took the Humbugs as I still half looked at the world outside of the shop window. Then I thought about his words, 'your from the other side.' With that I said, 'Thank you very much.' and quickly headed for the shop door, still staring at the odd array of people and transport passing outside.
The man behind the counter called out as I opened the door, 'Have a good day sir.' I gestured a wave as I caustiously stepped outside, clutching the Humbugs.
To my relief, the world outside was as it was when I was waiting for the bus; I looked at my hand holding the bag of Humbugs, then feeling a little silly I looked back inside the shop.
As I peered back in I was shocked, it was a smart modern supermarket, rows and rows of goods on shelves, no counter and no man behind it.
I heard a bus arriving and quickly looked across, it was my bus, so I turned away from the shop and ran to the stop to board the bus. As I stepped on I looked at the bag of Humbugs in my hand, then I looked through the bus window as I sat down, 'Greens Superstore?, what was that all about?' As the bus left the stop I stared at the shop then tucked into a Humbug. 'That was really wierd.' I said to myself. 'Really wierd.'
It was the wierdest of places, like going back to a time when, well before I was a kid. All the sweets in jars and a long counter behind which a royund man beamed a smile so big you had to smile back. 'Good morning sir how can I help you?' he asked me. I was stil messmerised by the time capsual appearance of this shop, then I asked, 'Excuse me this is just one great shop, I'll have some Humbugs if I may.'
The man reached to a shelf and grasped a jar of stripped Humbugs, ' A quater or a half sir.' he asked me, I replied unsure, 'A half please.' I could hear the Humbugs falling into the wieghing machine tray as I looked out of the shop window, but all elese that I thought, heard or said fell silent. What I could see through the shop window was a world passing by of horse drawn carriages and people in clothes of the 1920's.
'That will be 4 cents sir.' the man behind the counter told me, and I dipped into my pocket gave him dollar. He looked at then he said, 'Oh your from the other side sir, this is not valid here, but you can have the Humbugs on the house.' He then handed the dollar back to me and gave me the Humbugs in a small paper bag, as he did saying, 'Be safe on your way back sir.'
Nervously I took the Humbugs as I still half looked at the world outside of the shop window. Then I thought about his words, 'your from the other side.' With that I said, 'Thank you very much.' and quickly headed for the shop door, still staring at the odd array of people and transport passing outside.
The man behind the counter called out as I opened the door, 'Have a good day sir.' I gestured a wave as I caustiously stepped outside, clutching the Humbugs.
To my relief, the world outside was as it was when I was waiting for the bus; I looked at my hand holding the bag of Humbugs, then feeling a little silly I looked back inside the shop.
As I peered back in I was shocked, it was a smart modern supermarket, rows and rows of goods on shelves, no counter and no man behind it.
I heard a bus arriving and quickly looked across, it was my bus, so I turned away from the shop and ran to the stop to board the bus. As I stepped on I looked at the bag of Humbugs in my hand, then I looked through the bus window as I sat down, 'Greens Superstore?, what was that all about?' As the bus left the stop I stared at the shop then tucked into a Humbug. 'That was really wierd.' I said to myself. 'Really wierd.'
Short Stories by author John W Townsend
5 MinuteRead is a blog of short stories by author John Townsend.
It has always been fun to trip off into where a thought might take me, I have never been one to dismiss the passing idea as of no importance, and not everything you create in your head is for a book. Often it is a tale of the unexpected, a where did that come from.
So here I have gathered my short stories under the blog
5 MinuteRead
Hope you enjoy them.
John
It has always been fun to trip off into where a thought might take me, I have never been one to dismiss the passing idea as of no importance, and not everything you create in your head is for a book. Often it is a tale of the unexpected, a where did that come from.
So here I have gathered my short stories under the blog
5 MinuteRead
Hope you enjoy them.
John
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