Tagged: parody

California James and the Chapel of Rome

Flash Fiction Month 2018, Day 30

“Come on, Squat Runt!”

“Can we rethink my nickname, Doctor James? I feel as though it crosses the line from affectionately disparaging to actually hurtful.”

“There’s no time! We have to reach the Sistine Chapel before that albino monk gets—”

A hooded figure stepped out from the doorframe. “My ears are burning,” said the monk.

“Well, I’m not surprised,” said California James. “It is an exceptionally sunny day.” Continue reading

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Satan and His Robot Buddy Paul

Flash Fiction Month 2018, Day 29

EXT. SAINT SWITHUN’S HOME FOR EXCEPTIONALLY BIG-EYED ORPHANS – MORNING

We see the sun rising over St. Swithun’s Home for Exceptionally Big-eyed Orphans, which is prominently signposted. Birds are singing. Peaceful flute music – you know the music I mean – plays.

Record scratch. The music stops.

Woman screams.

CUT TO:

INT. SAINT SWITHUN’S HOME FOR ETC. KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS

MRS. WITHERSPOON continues screaming, hands clasped to her face. She screams for some time, eyes wide with horror. Finally, we see what she was screaming about. There is a plate on the kitchen table covered with the smeared remains of a cake. Icing is splattered liberally all around.

MRS. WITHERSPOON: Who can possibly deduce who ate the orphans’ precious cake?

Tyres screech outside.

Brutal guitar solo plays.

TITLE CARD: “SATAN AND HIS ROBOT BUDDY PAUL” Continue reading

Wolf in Sheepish Clothing

Flash Fiction Month 2018, Day 27

“Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in!”

“Not by the hair on your chinny-chin-chin!”

“Guys, seriously, could we not do this right now? The delivery guy called while I was in the bath and when I ran out to try and catch him the door swung shut behind me. I’m wearing nothing but a towel and it’s not even a particularly big towel. Could you please just let me in off the street? It’s freezing out here.”

The pigs conferred with one another.

“That sounds like a lie,” said the first little pig.

“People do tend to throw in a lot of extra details when they lie,” offered the second.

“How do we know you’re not going to eat us?” asked the third.

There was a sigh from the other side of the door. “Look, your house is made of straw. If I wanted to eat you, I could knock it down just by breathing on it. But obviously that wouldn’t help me get out of the cold now, would it?”

“I dunno…” said the first pig.

“Come on, guys! What reason could I possibly have for asking you to let me in if I could just smash right through the wall like the Kool-Aid man?”

“Yeah?” said the second pig. “Well what reason could you have for coming to our house out of all the houses on Lollipop Lane? We’re not exactly on good terms, you know.”

“You think this is the first place I’ve tried? Humptey Dumptey was cracking up, the old woman who lives in the shoe just ogled my butt the whole time, and Wee Willie Winkie wouldn’t stop making dick jokes. Happy now?”

“Yeah, fair enough,” said third little pig, “come on in.” And he unlocked the door.

“Hang on,” said the first pig. “Does the wolf even wear clothes?”

“Actually, now that you mention it…”

“Oh, shit. It’s Dracula.”

“Haha!” shouted Dracula as he bounded inside. “Who’s the sucker now?”

If you’ve enjoyed this story, you can find my work from previous Flash Fiction Months collected in these books:

OCR is Not the Only Font Cover REDESIGN (Barbecued Iguana)Red Herring Cover (Barbecued Iguana design)Bionic Punchline eBook CoverOsiris Likes This Cover

Click any cover to find that book in your choice of format.

Squinter Cell: Pandora Whenever

Flash Fiction Month 2018, Day 26

Challenge #12: Write a story that includes a powerful janitor, incompetent guards, and a substance with miraculous properties. One of these elements must be inverted.

“Intruder is in air vents. Please advise.”

“Do not deviate from patrol route. I repeat: do not deviate from patrol route.”

“But he’s banging around in there and it’s super obvious and the boss is just down the hall.”

“Look. Which of these sounds better? ‘Gee, the Pandora Virus is missing! The guy who took it must have been a total ghost because literally nobody noticed him,’ or ‘Hey, about that dude who got all the way into the bioweapons lab before anyone raised the alarm. He must have been super quiet right up until he started trying to cram his entire body through a flimsy metal duct.’ Because—”

“Oh God,” the guard whispered into his collar mic. “He’s stopped. I think he knows I can hear him!”

“Okay,” said Tim. “Stay calm and repeat after me: ‘Man, I can’t believe that creaky old vent’s acting up again.’”

“Man. I can’t believe that creaky old vent is acting up again.”

From the safety of the broom closet, Tim heard the unmistakable sound of knees mangling sheet metal start up once more. It really was loud: like RoboCop trying to hump a wobble board. Continue reading

Blunderball

Flash Fiction Month 2018, Day 25

“The name’sh Bont. George Bont.”

“George Bont the international super-spy?”

“Uhh…no. I’m a different George Bont.”

Le Chauffeur whipped out his phone. “Are you sure? Because you look just like this George Bont on Facebook: employed at MI6.”

“That can’t be me. I’m an economisht.”

“Really? Explain quantitative easing to me.”

“Uhhh…”

There were skeptical looks from the various scarred and eyepatched people around the Blackjack table.

“Oh, darn,” said George Bont. “I’m really not very good at thish.”

If you’ve enjoyed this story, you can find my work from previous Flash Fiction Months collected in these books:

OCR is Not the Only Font Cover REDESIGN (Barbecued Iguana)Red Herring Cover (Barbecued Iguana design)Bionic Punchline eBook CoverOsiris Likes This Cover

Click any cover to find that book in your choice of format.

Tomorrow Never Lives and Lets a License to Kill Die Another Day

Flash Fiction Month 2018, Day 23

“Do you exschpect me to talk?”

“No, Mr. Bont, I expect you to watch this PowerPoint presentation detailing my elaborate scheme to hold the world to ransom.” Eugene Stelios Boccali directed his laser pointer towards the large screen hanging from the wall and clicked a button to bring up the presentation.

“Thatsh a relief,” said George Bont, international super-spy. “I wash worried that the laysher might have been for something elshe.” Continue reading

The Dearth of Superman

Flash Fiction Month 2018, Day 20

“Today we remember Therm O’Nuclear,” announced Captain Caulk, with tears in his mighty eyes. “Though to those present now, he was perhaps better known as Major Megaton. He will be most dearly missed.”

“Oh, sure,” muttered Tsar Kazm. “I mean, it’s not as if any of us have ever turned up after dying before. Like, that’s not a thing superheroes are known for doing or anything.”

Captain Caulk glowered at him.

Suddenly, the church doors banged open. A lone figure stood spandex-clad and silhouetted in the space between them.

It was Spiderguy.

“Sorry I’m late!” he whispered as he edged his way awkwardly down one of the pews at the back. “Kind of embarrassing: I got stuck in the bath.”

Captain Caulk cleared his throat. “As you will all probably be aware, Major Megaton’s body was sadly never found—”

“Also not a massive hint he’ll be back!” said Tsar Kazm, less quietly this time. Continue reading

How to Pain Your Dragon

Flash Fiction Month 2018, Day 18

“Foolish knight,” hissed the dragon. “Did you think this place would be unguarded? Did you think the moat its only defence? None who pass through those gates return alive, for all who do must face me.”

“Okay,” said the knight. “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? Obviously I’m gonna fight anyone who comes here. Do you really think they’d leave a dragon in a tower just to welcome people in?”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

The dragon made an annoyed little noise. “Only Queen Harriet the Third and the nobles of her court. Geez! You don’t see a lot of dragons guarding pubs, do you? I mean, it’s pretty much royalty or nothing, innit?”

“Why?”

“Because dragons guard treasure and the cash box at the Dog and Pheasant isn’t exactly going to cut it!” Continue reading

Terms and Conditions

Flash Fiction Month 2018, Day 13

“Stop, good citizen!” cried the complete stranger who had just burst through the door. “Sign not that paperwork!”

“What?” yelped the landlord. “What are you doing here? Who are you anyway?”

“Why, I am Apartment Man!” proclaimed the intruder, who wore a hat on his head shaped like a house’s roof.

“And I his loyal sidekick, Rent Boy!”

“And we are here to tell you…” Apartment Man pointed dramatically at the prospective tenant, “that your security deposit should be nowhere near the value of three months’ rent. Not for an unfurnished apartment!”

“Sorry,” said the landlord. “What did you say?” Continue reading

Going Out With a Bang

Flash Fiction Month 2018, Day 12

Challenge #6: Write a story involving a wannabe character in which it is implied someone dies in a spectacular fashion.

It was a beautiful evening, the tranquillity of the gentle pink sunset marred only slightly by the battle raging on between every superhero in the city and the skyscraper-sized fire-breathing dinosaur that had emerged from the harbour an hour or so earlier.

“Hi, Mr. O’Nuclear,” said Tina, rather suddenly.

Mr. O’Nuclear jumped. He hadn’t realised anyone else was on the roof.

“You know you can just call me Therm, right?” he said.

“My mum says it’s rude to call grownups by their first names,” explained Tina, opening the door of the pigeon loft.

Therm considered this. “I think that’s a bit old-fashioned, but it’s good that you do what your parents tell you.”

Tina began to feed the birds.

Therm watched a cloud drift lazily across the horizon.

The dinosaur fired a ginormous laser beam from its face.

“Why are you wearing a big green onesie?” asked Tina. “And a cape?”

“Well,” Therm chuckled. “I suppose there’s no harm telling you this now. The truth is, I’ve been a superhero for about six years now. Ever since I jumped into the path of an intercontinental ballistic missile to prevent World War Three.”

“Oh, cool!” Tina walked over. “Do you have a superhero name?”

Therm swept a hand in front of him as if revealing invisible words in the air: “Major Megaton.” He paused. “I was pushing for Colonel Kiloton myself, but they didn’t want to promote me that far just for the name. Come to think of it, I reckon that’s probably why so many superheroes are ‘Captain’ something-or-other.”

“Got any superpowers?”

“Besides having a 100 kiloton warhead lodged in my ribcage, not really.”

“Oh.”

The dinosaur in the distance demolished the headquarters of the Daily Bungle with a swipe of its tail. On the bright side, Therm considered, the thing was getting farther from the city centre.

“I’ve always wanted to be a superhero,” said Tina. “But there aren’t a lot of girl ones out there.”

“Well…a lot of superheroes start out as soldiers, or scientists, or billionaire CEOs, and since women are still under-represented in those fields there’s kind of a knock-on…” Therm realised this probably wasn’t a helpful way to address the issue. “But I mean, that’s all the more reason for you to do it!”

“Do you really think I could!?”

“Yeah! You can do anything you put your mind to!”

“Can I help out with the dinosaur, then? That would be so cool!”

“Ooh. That’s… Look, that dinosaur’s a biggie. Literally. I mean, you don’t want to tackle something like that on your first try. They wouldn’t even have called me if it wasn’t really, really serious.”

“Oh.” Tina looked at her shoes. “Okay.”

Therm watched the last little snippet of the sun vanish below the horizon.

The dinosaur swatted at a biplane peppering it with machine-gun fire.

Therm wondered when the historical aviation society had gotten involved.

“So…why aren’t you there now?” Tina asked.

“I need to let the other heroes draw the creature a few miles from the city before I can…you know…do my thing,” explained Therm.

“So it doesn’t fall on anyone when you defeat it?”

“Umm…” Therm gave a nervous smile. “Something like that.”

“Superheroes spend more time waiting around than I thought.”

“Oh, it’s not like that! I mean, sure, it is for me. And anybody who relies on one of those big searchlight symbols pointed at a cloud. And then there’s stakeouts…” Again, Therm felt as though he wasn’t exactly doing his bit to encourage the next generation of superheroes. “But there’s much more to being a hero than just waiting for a bank heist to foil. For a supervillain to punch. For a fire-breathing dinosaur to blast to smithereens. The most important things are the small things. Speaking up when someone does something bad. Recognising when they do something good. Being there for your friends. Making new friends! It sounds goofy, but those are the things that are really important.”

The sun, at last, dipped below the horizon. The dinosaur was well out into the suburbs by now. Therm figured that if he had anything else to say, now was the time to say it.

At last it came to him: “The big stuff…” he began. “The big stuff will turn out okay as long as there’s at least one person there to do it. But the small stuff, that’s up to everyone.”

The dinosaur was moving at quite a pace—whoever was in that biplane really seemed to have riled it up—and if Therm was honest with himself he knew he’d already put off leaving longer than he had to.

“Why do you want to be a superhero, Tina?”

“I want to punch bad guys and shoot monsters with eye-beams and use a grappling hook to climb a building!”

Therm nodded. “Those are all really good reasons. But you have to remember that as much of a difference as those things make, what really matters is that people know you’re looking out for them. Because then they’ll look out for each other too.”

“Okay,” said Tina. “But I still think shooting eye-beams at monsters is important too.”

“It is,” conceded Therm, “but that’s not something I can help you with.”

He took an item from his utility belt.

“Maybe this’ll do instead.”

“No way!” Tina took the grappling pistol. “Can I have this? Really?” Then she thought for a bit. “Don’t you need it?”

“Naah. I’m sure you’ll get more use out of it than me.”

Therm dropped off the edge of the building and landed in a dramatic pose before sprinting off towards the dinosaur in the distance.

Tina watched him until he vanished between the buildings.

“Still feeding the pigeons?” asked her mother, stepping out of the stairwell. “Come on. It’s time you went to bed.”

“Can I heat up the hot chocolate with my eye-beams?” asked Tina, excitedly.

“Only if you’re very, very careful,” said her mother. “I’m not replacing the fridge again.”

If you’ve enjoyed this story, you can find my work from previous Flash Fiction Months collected in these books:

OCR is Not the Only Font Cover REDESIGN (Barbecued Iguana)Red Herring Cover (Barbecued Iguana design)Bionic Punchline eBook CoverOsiris Likes This Cover

Click any cover to find that book in your choice of format.