Archive for the ‘Brigid and Greg Fictionlets’ Category »
Fictionlet
Greg sat at the dining room table, tapping away on the lappie as Alex lounged on the couch messing with his phone. Quietly, and without fuss, Ozymandias hopped up onto the table, regarded Greg’s Moleskine with a vague air of contempt, and knocked it off the table before settling down into a loaf.
Greg paused, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Cats are nature’s perfect entropic engine.” He then continued typing.
Alex crinkled up his forehead. “Man, you are like peak 2007,” he said.
-The Gneech
Fictionlet
“Due to the peculiar placement of a seam,” Greg said, “my waistband reads ‘Fruit of the Lruit.”
“What in the entire realm of all human experience might make you want to think I wanted to know that?” asked Brigid.
“What in the entire realm of all human experience might make you think that whether or not you want to know something is relevant to whether I will say it?” Greg replied.
“Have you considered the fact that if you were to die suddenly, it would take weeks before even your closest friends might notice if I were clever in hiding my tracks?” said Brigid.
“Point,” said Greg.
-The Gneech
Fictionlet
“So a genie grants you a wish,” said Greg. “What do you wish for?”
Alex looked up from his taco. “Oh, that’s easy,” he said. “Unlimited, inexhaustible health and prosperity.”
“Yeah, okay, that’s pretty good,” said Greg.
Brigid shook her head. “Every movie ever made, retroactively to the beginning of time, and going on forever, no matter how good or how bad, has the same production values, the same script, the same special effects and soundtrack etcetera, but an all-woman cast and production crew. Citizen Kane? Women. Casablanca? Women. Star Wars, The Goonies, Logan’s Run. Not a man to be found. No other changes.”
Greg pondered this, then slowly nodded. “Okay,” he said.
“I want to change my wish,” said Alex.
-The Gneech
PS: Bonus Fictionlet from Twitter!
Me: A joke about Black Panther and Toto. Go!
Brigid: “Watson, I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more!”
Greg: “I bless the reigns down in Africa!”
Brigid: Fuck.
#fictionlet
Fictionlet
Brigid poked about at her cereal, as if she were trying to figure out what it was. “I had the weirdest experience this morning,” she said.
“Did it involve penguins?” said Greg. “Because if it didn’t involve penguins, I’m pretty sure it couldn’t have been the weirdest experience.”
“I was drifting in and out of consciousness,” she continued, completely disregarding his comment as was appropriate. “Every time I woke up, I felt like I was just this close to grasping something. Something important, you know? Something big. About myself, or the nature of the universe, something. But every time I started to really get it… I fell back asleep, and had to start all over again.”
“Vishnu had the same problem, if I remember correctly,” said Greg.
“What?” said Brigid.
“Huh?” said Greg.
Fictionlet
Greg shook his head. “Everyone talks about how sophisticated continental Europe is, but I don’t see it. I mean, can you imagine if Prince had sung about how ‘She came in through the ausfahrt’?”
“Greg darling,” sniffed Isadora. “Would you do me the great favor of putting a sock in it? I am trying to have a conversation with my daughter.”
-The Gneech
Fictionlet
“Well, young Greg, do you see anything on the menu that suits you?” Isadora asked.
“Quite a bit actually,” Greg said. “The hard part is narrowing it down to a single dish.”
“Ugh,” said Brigid. “There’s not enough chocolate on this menu. I’m going straight for dessert.”
“It’s an Italian restaurant,” said Greg. “Where would you possibly put chocolate besides a caffé mocha?”
“Lots of places!” said Brigid. “I mean really, eggplant parmesan? Fuck that noise. Smothered in chocolate is the only way you’d get me to eat eggplant.”
“You’ve never even had eggplant,” said Isadora.
“And nobody ever serves it smothered in chocolate,” said Brigid. “I detect a pattern.”
“Not everything is enhanced by adding chocolate,” said Greg.
“Oh yes it is,” said Brigid. “There’s nothing on this menu that wouldn’t be better with chocolate. Spaghetti? Better with chocolate. Lasagna? Better with chocolate. Garlic bread? Better with chocolate. Hell, I’d eat wasps if they were covered in chocolate.”
“Is that something you’re often called upon to do?” Greg asked.
“Well, no,” said Brigid. “But if the situation ever comes up, I know my stance on it.”
“At least you’ve got it well thought-out,” Isadora said, and quaffed some more of her wine sample.
“Shakespeare would be proud,” Greg agreed.
“To thine own chocolate, be true,” Brigid said, and began to raid the bowl of after-dinner mints.
-The Gneech
