JeffR Archives

January 16, 2007

Jeff R.: The Fall of Fort Brigorius

When the Krieglord's engines broke the walls of our fortifications and his cavalry, riding black horses tall as trees that snorted soot, assembled at the river landing, we defenders of the line broke, taking flight. Some officers tried to organize rallies, threatening dire punishments for deserters. They ended up trampled, torn apart, or worse.

We made it almost a league from the river before the Krieglord's main force had crossed, but not far enough that we couldn't the wailing sound that could come from no other horn but his own, carved from the tusk of an Impudax Demon.

Sounding pursuit.

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January 18, 2007

Jeff R.:Part 13: The Deadly Discus of Danger

Tessa "Treasure" Malone slid down the rope, arms crossed around it, each holding a blazing .45. She dropped four of the Kahn's goons on the way down. Then Kroj launched his razor-discus. She dropped two feet, and it severed the rope above her, sending her tumbling toward the palace floor, a flame-like jumble of red hair and leather.

She landed on all fours and quickly sprung toward the pole the Professor was tied to.

"Took you long enough." he said, mock-ungratefully.

"Had to pick up the Tiger's Eye Pendant." she said, smiling. "No way I was going to leave empty-handed."

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January 19, 2007

Jeff R.:11:55, Outside the Girl's Bathroom at the Senior Prom

"So what's your plan?"

"In a few minutes Jess'll come out. She had a few too many, so she'll likely tumble right down the stairs.

"Then what?"

"Then we get into my ride, which will mysteriously turn into a pumpkin halfway home."

"Huh?"

"It'll run out of gas, stupid. And after that, I guess we'll just let it all hang out."

"Oh. What if she notices the meter and makes you stop for gas?"

"Dude. What kind of car do I have?"

"I dunno. Some crappy compact, right?"

"It's a Gremlin. And everyone knows you shouldn't feed them after midnight."

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January 23, 2007

Jeff R.:True Tales From the Monkey's Paw

Here's the way the story's usually told: The first wish is for money. So the son dies, and the family get his insurance or pension. The second wish is for the son back, but he comes back as a brainless zombie. So the third wish is to have never found the Paw in the first place.

In fact, it only rarely works out that way. Most of the time the family either doesn't particularly miss the kid, who never did write or call. Or else they find having a zombie around the house useful.

The third wish is usually sexual.

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January 24, 2007

Jeff R.:Here Comes the Sun

The sky has turned a hazy gray twilight, causing prickles across my skin. The beast inside me strains against the restraints, but they hold. I smile inside even as my face contorts in rage. It has killed- no, I have killed too many already. No more.

My thoughts fly: I remember the night it began, the pain of the bite, and then the horrific chain of nights that followed. Blood, and hunger, it all boils down to.

Hunger and blood, and now, fire. I feel it begin, and turn my face to greet the incinerating first rays of the dawn.

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January 30, 2007

Jeff R.:General Strike

The wheel is a god-damn scab.

There's no excuse for it. It took too long to get organized, and every time we'd get close, there'd be some new kind of screw or pulley-rig or transistor joining the workforce, and so we'd have to keep recruiting and never take any direct action.

And believe me, action was needed. You seen the hours? The pay? The retirement plan?

Anyhow, Fire, we can undestand. Fire's just a glorified ameteur; does it more for fun than anything else. But the wheel?

We'll see how well he rolls across the picket line after we're through.

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February 2, 2007

Jeff R.:Journal found in a Chronic Hysteresis

Iteration   Activity

1-5:        Orientation, discovering the 'rules'.

5-45:       Hedonism.

46:         Learn death doesn't break cycle.

47-90:      High-risk Hedonism.

91-128:     Risk-taking for it's own sake.

129:        Experience endless hours of pain and

            paralysis.

130-148:    Push limits of own morality in

            consequence-free world.

149-433:    Skill development.

434-2833:   Skill development with Hedonistic

            interludes.

2833-2948:  Return to solipsitic moral limit-testing.

2950-3140:  Suicide attempts.

3141-3882:  Skill development, memorization of

            day's minutia.

3883-4274:  Develop plan for a 'perfect' version

            of day.

4375-4475:  Repititions of dealized day.

4476-5833:  Meditation.

5834:       Achieve perfect Satori, discover

            secret to escape endless day.

5835-8832:  Work on scoring 3333360 points

            in Pac-Man.

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February 6, 2007

Jeff R.:A Turn for the Verse

(With woefully inadequate apologies to Robert Frost)

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice,
Still others floods, or plague, or else,
Get overrun by rabid mice.

Or maybe one night God won't set
His alarm clock,
And gravity will cease to work,
And we'll all fly right off this rock.

Perhaps a glowing meteor
Or toxic spill
Will make the graves give up their dead,
And zombies for our brains will kill.

Of course, there's always us: a war,
Or accident
Or Elder Gods who own the Earth
Might show up, asking for back rent.

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February 7, 2007

Jeff R.:A Price For Everything

When spoken of at all, it's called 'The Black Catalog', an, unassuming text published intermittently since 1920 and mailed to a select list of the hundred wealthiest people alive. Wealthy enough to buy anonymity; wealthier by far than anyone you've heard of.

Within its slick pages are things to buy. Lost works of art, assassin's services, love-slaves exquisitely surgically crafted into perfection. Nuclear devices have appeared four times, once including an entire missile delivery system. As have the secret reins of power to countries far larger than you'd imagine, trips to the moon and mars, whatever the subscribers want enough.

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February 8, 2007

Jeff R.: The Cold Solution

Here's the story: little kid sneaks on a spaceship full of emergency medicine needed to save a colony. Turns out the morons in charge built in almost zero fault tolerance, every gram of equipment essential, so her extra mass is enough to screw up the entire reentry and crash the ship. So the poor pilot's got no choice but to chuck her out the airlock. Right?

Wrong. Turns out, there is another way for the intrepid hero to make rescue the planet without offending his conscience all that much.

It's just that it'll cost him an arm and a leg...

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