Apr 9, 2010

NON STORY POST-- About Stuff

Hey you, yup you. This is NOT a story. I like to make this clear in most of the occasional non-story post here. Cuz hey, we need to get to know each other better. You barely know me, even when you've been reading my blog for god know how much time. Ok, some of you know me, but you DON'T really really know me. Few do. Very few. But let's not go there.

I have some news, some views, and some links.

NEWS : I am off facebook. I told trusted parties to change my password to something I don't know so that even if I want to I cannot login there. It's a time waster, I'd rather spend that time writing. The friends who really really care can easily contanct me on email or call me or whatever, if I love them I'll pick their calls or something.

I have frozen the twitter account because I realized that twitter was an idea dump. The best ideas that could've been kickass blogposts were getting wasted as 140 character tweets of no particular significance. I might take up twitter again in future, but that's till I can rack up my personal word count. TO those who are reading this from twitter. I'm not really sorry guys, I know you'll miss me there, but I have to get my life in order and do awesome things. Twitter was taking too much brain juice, now that I know I am off it, I can work on more interesting things like painting stones and drinking red bull and listening to music and ofcourse, writing.

VIEWS: There are "Outside Forces" working to mess with me. Sorry Outside Forces, that's not going to happen. :)

LINKS: Serial Fiction has hit blogsphere in full force and I'm lucky to have my friends here doing some awesome mindfuck work. In no order of authority,

  • Mr Dinners writes about Angels Over London and a war between good and evil. With brit humor and sarcasm and kickass lucifer character. Lots of drinking, sex and mindfuckers going on here. Check it out here. Judgement Day. Go and leave some comment love.
  • , our old drug user and sex addict friend who writes only when he is high as a kite and low like a rapper thug. Kid is insane, in short. He is writing something which I am yet to catch up on, but he's got an interesting format. And his Google Image Fu is strong. Check it out at his serial fiction here > The Coup.
  • And last but not the least, Mr. Jason Evans, he of the awesome Clarity Of Night fame is doing some serial science fiction at this joint, Clarity Of Night. Great quality of writing, short, snappy and hard driving, check it out here > The Seed.
  • *EDIT>> We can't ignore the young guns of blogger,
So as the weather gets hotter, the weekends should be spend indoors, reading and enjoying as many blogs as you can, and ofcourse, when you read, do leave comments, it's only good manners and even a single comment can be fuel for the writer to write more. It DOES make a difference. Writer folk survive on feedback. Be giving.

And, for the hellions among us, those who like their beer strong and their heavy metal loud >> One Million Beers For Metal. This is where it was conceptulized. So, if you're attending a concert and drinking beer, send these peeps a pic, should be easy enough no? They are planning to collect one million pics. So yay!

That's about it for now.

More stories next :)

Apr 6, 2010

The License to Fuck

Note: Think of a future where the pollution along with the climate and biological changes has mutated the male genes and the government has erased all memories of sex from people's minds because horny people are trouble. So, in such times, those who need a baby need an official Governmental Fucker to procreate on their behalf. They pay money for people with License To Fuck. The thoughts of people are garbled and fucked up, excess TV, junk food, and information explosion has made them stupid. This is the story of one such stupid couple. Needless to say, but I shall say this anyway, fuck off if you're offended easily.


Mrs. and Mr. 50390 had wanted a baby for such a long time. But they didn't have the license, The License To Fuck.
The sky was a musty gray that evening when the hover car floated to a stop outside house number 50390. Mr. 50390 looked at Mrs. 50390 and saw the light of joy in her eyes for the first time in 25 years of their marriage. He was happy too, he was happy for her. He sat on the couch and waited for the Governmental Fucker to barge in through the door. Like they always did. Governmental Fuckers didn't need to knock. All doors were thin air for them. They had the power. Among other privileges.
The man who appeared through the door was an image of slightly less than perfection. His eyes were blue and his hair was black, he was tall with broad shoulders but somewhere something was missing. There was no spark of intelligence in his eyes. His eyes were tired and he was nervous. But he was all Mr. 50390 could afford to get his wife impregnated.

"Please come in," Mr. 50390 said to their guest, even though he was already in, "have a seat."

The man walked to the small couch and sat down across the table where the husband and wife were seated. He said nothing and opened the thin briefcase he was carrying. He took a small cube out of the briefcase, closed the briefcase and set the cube on the briefcase. The cube threw up a spray of mist and the molecules of mist hung in the air to form a screen in which the man started to speak.

"Procreator X2ZZN @50390. Biological Breeding to be initiated by the agent as the subjects don't have a LTF. The agent is geared to breed male chromosomes only."

The husband-wife duo looked mystified at the agent talking numbers and barely intelligible gibberish sentences into the mist. Then, the mist vanished.

He placed the cube back in the briefcase and shrugged. "Datawork. Got to keep the books up to date."

He looked at the husband wife who sat across him, looking at him like dumb sheep. "This is first time for you guys?" the agent asked.

They both nodded in unison.

"Fuck my luck."

"Allright, Mr. 50390, you probably don't want to watch this. Natural insemination is not a pretty sight. No use telling you since you don't have a License To Fuck, but still, you might want to go to another room."

"But this room is all we have," he said, "we sold everything else to get an appointment with you."

The agent looked at the wife. "This might hurt."

She looked back at him, like a terrified but excited animal and nodded.

"The couch it is then." the agent said to himself and started telling the wife everything that happens during the natural process. The husband started setting up and ancient video camera he had bought in a scrap shop. He didn't want to miss his would be son's conception at any cost.

The agent looked at the camera, gave Mr. 50390 thumbs up sign and opened his zipper.

Mrs. 50390 gasped and so did Mr. 50390.