“Is it really the ocean that makes that sound inside the seashells, Dad?” Continue reading The Seashell
“Let me feel your breasts,” he said to her, and the very brazen formality with which he said it was, itself, a kind of violation. Continue reading A Game of Both
The phone rings unheeded, while across the room Diern lolls his head, eyes closed, tripping out to Miles Davis radiating from a pair of speakers. A stranger creeps in silently through the open balcony. He stares at Diern for several minutes. The stranger’s face contorts slightly, almost as though groping for the memory of facial expressions, filled with a strange psychopathic fondness for his prey. Diern’s body writhes in tandem with the hesitant tremors of the stranger’s face, the former seeming to be a magnified, more complete expression of the latter. Continue reading Killer Trip
Rice was invented in 4E-17x, the Year of the Noneger, by the late scientographer Maxillimus Magoo, whose prowess with a replicator exonat pen was unmatched in the fourteen megaspheres of Earth-Like for the duration of his life-term. In its undyed form, rice appears as small pink globules of crepuscular mucus suspended in a medium of bile. It is so named because of its resemblance to Pre-Androidian descriptions of an ancient granular food supplement of the same name. Some psioresearch gacks believe that Magoo’s invention does not so much resemble Pre-Androidian rice as it does another, more obscure, dish known as “grits”. Only two known surviving docuchips from the Meta-Moronic Era bear any mention of grits, and some scholhardassians doubt the dish’s existence at all.
Rice is used in situations where it is desirable to have an inedible substance that vaguely resembles food, but not so much that anyone will make the mistake of trying to eat it. It is a popular dish for android office parties, because it is cheap to buy and available in many different colours.
This manuscript was found attached with scotch tape to a bloated body that washed up from the river wearing a pair of headphones connected to an mp3 player in a waterproof bag that played Tim Hecker’s “Ravedeath 1972” on continuous repeat. Upon removal of the manuscript, the body disintegrated into small crystalline shards that blew away on the wind of regret. It was written on foolscap with a ballpoint pen. Continue reading Tim Hecker’s Ravedeath: How Music and the Curse