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Attention! Fiction!
ZJGent:
--- Quote from: Melodic on 02 Mar 2008, 22:45 ---A Pocket Calculator in a Distant Hand
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First, please think of a sandwich. A sandwich has fairly basic elements – two sides of bread, one filling, crusts/no crusts, mouth, eat, done. Marvellous – now if you can imagine the universe as being a sandwich. Except, in this circumstance, the sandwich is infinitely large, with an infinite number of fillings, infinite slices of bread, extending beyond the depth of human perception into the corners of reality usually occupied by the dangerously insane, brilliant geniuses, and the eighteenth century English poet Clancy Forthright, who whilst dawdling one lazy afternoon in Hyde Park, took a wrong turning in his own imagination and got lost there.
More of him later.
For now, let’s keep thinking of our infinite sandwich with its endless and eternal flavour.
‘Aha,’ you are thinking, ‘I have put a variety of different fillings in a sandwich before, and with my regular normal sandwich-sized sandwich, the more fillings I add, the less agreeable the taste on my palette.’
Now comes the hard part. With our sandwich universe – and yes, this does push the boundaries of human belief just a touch (and we are talking about the same humans who, in large quantities, believe that God is a man) – we must understand that each flavour of which there are infinite varieties, each flavour will taste completely separate from every other flavour. So were you to bite into the universe, you would effectively be tasting every single flavour, at once, separately, for ever, in one moment.
The main proponent of Sandwich Theory, as you might have guessed, went mildly kooky after incorrectly dropping a decimal place, and is now incapable of eating sandwiches whatsoever. In a recent interview, he spoke of improving on basic mathematics in the field of circles using only steak and kidney Pi.
Johnny C:
--- Quote from: ZJGent on 02 Mar 2008, 21:29 ---The perp turns his head. The guy's handsome, got a sharp jawline you could cut cocaine with, but he’s got dirty eyes. You know that this slice of shit is just screamin’ to rat out his buddy boys left, right and centre. All he needs is the right pressure. That’s when I exit the beat-up Chevy and pull the hammer back on my .45.
There’s more than one kind of pressure, that’s for damn sure.
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Remarkable. Not to mention that last one.
Please write me a piece in the style of Mexican Magic Realism, based on the theme of being unable to change our pasts but being able to affect our present and embrace our future.
Tom:
--- Quote from: ZJGent on 02 Mar 2008, 23:10 ---
--- Quote from: Melodic on 02 Mar 2008, 22:45 ---A Pocket Calculator in a Distant Hand
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You sir, are amazing.
ZJGent:
--- Quote from: n0t_r0bert_b0yle!! on 02 Mar 2008, 23:02 ---Shopaholic at Miskatonic
--- End quote ---
Caroline sat in the whirlpool spa at the Miskatonic Uni gym and sighed as she thought of Hugo Love and the masculine voice that haunted her dreams. He had lectured on the Necronomnicon only that morning, and his strong, imposing voice had curled round the name of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred in ways that made her want to jump on him and rustle that tousled, curly brown hair. It was her first year at the university in Arkham, and she had already fallen madly in love. If only there was some way to make him notice her. Unfortunately, her own hair was a mousy blonde concoction and she hardly had the body of Aphrodite. She was sure if only she could show him how passionately she felt about the study of the human body and its extrasensory limitations, that he could at least fall in love with her brilliant mind.
Later that evening, she hit upon the perfect idea - perhaps if she were to coax him into the laboratory where she was preparing the dissection of that strange fish-creature that the Norwegian sailors had let her keep on her gap year visit, then he would realise their common interests. She immediately took a taxi cab to the lab and examined her other 'catch'. The creature was hideous, a monstrous satire on the human form - tentacles extruded from the back of the spinal apex. The monster was indescribably horrific - it was then that she noticed the strange stone statuette ensconced in the creature's stomach cavity. Donning a pair of thick rubber surgical gloves, she carefully withdrew the article. At its peak was a creature similar to the one in front of her, its head a mass of cephalopodean tentacles, with scaled wings, and short, muscled arms. The base was covered in strange markings that appeared to align at strange angles not in line with this earth's geometry. Placing the statuette carefully on the metal tray, she saw then the blood on the ground beneath her.
"Oh emm gee, I totally forgot to change my tampon!"
Tom:
Thankyou, it was much funnier than I'd hoped.
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