Dec 29 2005

Fictionlet

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Greg awoke from a dream that his ears were on fire, only to discover that something warm and furry was in fact wrapped around the top of his head, creating an effect much like earmuffs.

He blinked. “Ozymandias?” he said. “Is that you?”

“Meow,” said Ozymandias.

“Why are you wrapped around my head like a pair of earmuffs?”

“Meow,” Ozymandias repeated.

“Right, well, at least there’s a good explanation. While I’m flattered by your apparent pro-‘me’ bias, I really must remember to tell Brigid to warn me when you’re coming over next time.”

Ozymandias flicked his tail across Greg’s face, in an apparent effort to make him shut up and go back to sleep. Greg weighed his options, and finally decided the cat had the right idea.

-The Gneech

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Dec 21 2005

Fictionlet

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“Why are you staring into space like that?” Brigid asked. “You’ve been like that for twenty minutes now.”

“I have a problem,” Greg said. “And it’s bothering me.”

“Is it that small particle of brain in the back of your skull? ’cause we can have that removed.”

“I’m wondering when it stops being ordinary ‘foolery,’ and becomes ‘tomfoolery.'”

Brigid blinked. “What?”

“I mean, what is tomfoolery? Who is this ‘Tom’ and why is his foolery so much more egregious than any other fool’s, um, foolery? And when people say they won’t stand for any tomfoolery, does it mean they would stand for ordinary foolery?”

“You haven’t really been thinking about that for twenty minutes, have you?” she asked. “You’re just pulling my leg … right?”

“I just hate the way people casually toss these things around, like they don’t mean anything. It’s like hearing somebody say ‘I could care less.’ Don’t they even care what they’re saying?”

“The ol’ train of thought left the station years ago for you, didn’t it?” she said, heading off to bed.

“Is there such a think as ‘dick-and-harryfoolery?'” he called at her retreating back. “And if so, how will I know it if I see it?”

-The Gneech

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Dec 13 2005

Fictionlet

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Greg pointed to the newspaper. “Well according to this, ‘salicadoola’ means ‘menchacaboolaroo.'”

“Well yes,” said Brigid. “But the thingamabob that does the job is ‘bippity boppity boo.'”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Very sure.”

He shrugged. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it. You are the expert after all.”

“You’d better take my word for it,” she said. “Or I’ll turn you into a frog.”

-The Gneech

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Dec 09 2005

Fictionlet

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Greg shook his head and sighed. “You ever get the feeling that people aren’t listening to a word you say?” he asked.

“You ever get the feeling that you were better off just not saying anything?” Brigid replied.

“You ever notice that some people answer questions with another question?” Greg continued.

“You ever notice that some questions aren’t worth answering?” Brigid concluded.

-The Gneech

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Dec 07 2005

Fictionlet

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Greg struck a wild, exaggerated martial arts pose, one hand high over his head, the other brandishing a men’s safety razor. “New! From Gillette!” he said dramatically. “The X-17 — a little number we like to call … The Widowmaker!

Brigid stood in the hall and blinked at him, struggling to keep at least one eye open against the malicious morning glare. She didn’t bother to say anything, though. What would be the point?

“Some razors have two blades; others have three. A few have four! But X-17, The Widowmaker, blows them all away with an unprecedented SEVENTEEN BLADES!” He shook his hands violently, making cheesy thunderclap noises. “You may not think it was possible, but we did it! That’s X-17, The Widowmaker, new from Gillette! The man’s razor that BLASTS your face smooth!” More thunder noises.

Brigid blinked at him, wordlessly. He began to look around, sheepishly, still standing in the martial arts pose.

A moment passed.

A moment later, another one passed.

Finally, Greg slunk back off to the bathroom, and Brigid let her eyes squeeze mostly shut again and continued towards the kitchen for her breakfast.

-The Gneech

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Dec 05 2005

Fictionlet

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Brigid sat curled up on the sofa reading an editorial in the newspaper; Greg, who’d been sitting at the table wearing his headphones and tapping away on the laptop like always, suddenly let out, “Why don’t we duh-duh-DO it in the roaaaad? Why don’t we DUH-DUH-DO IT in the roaaaad? No one will be watchin’ us, so why don’t we DO it, in the rooooohooooaaad?”

“Hey!” Brigid called over at him. “That’s pretty randy talk for you isn’t it, Mr. Courtly Ideal?”

Greg pulled off one half of the headphones. “What?”

“‘Why don’t we do it in the road?'” Brigid said. “I’d think you’d be shocked and offended by such a breach of ettiquette!”

“Hmph,” Greg replied. “The Beatles transcend such worldly concerns, young Brigid!”

“Paul and Ringo are still kicking,” said Brigid. “Maybe they’ll do a cover of ‘I Like Big Butts and I Cannot Lie.'”

“Please. Paul and Ringo? No. The Rolling Stones, on the other hand, I could see it.”

“Actually, didn’t Spinal Tap do that originally?”

-The Gneech

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