Monday September 12th, 2022

The exercise:

Write about: a write-off.

Apt description for the day. Got off to a rough start and never improved. Might as well finish it off with a migraine.

2 comments:

Greg said...

Well, that doesn't sound like a good day at all, but at least there was a migraine to look forward to at the end of it :) I hope there was a quiet, dark room for you to fall asleep in by the time that happened.

A write-off
Sylvestra oozed into Dr. Septopus's laboratory like oil creeping suffocatingly across a pond and the shadows all jerked and writhed in response. The doctor, who was gazing at a pile of twisted metal that might, if you squinted, look a bit like a vehicle, looked up. He glared at the shadows, which did nothing, and said, "I know it's you Sylvestra. You can come out where I can see you."
"You've been a bit grumpy all day," said Sylvestra, emerging from a particular dark and dense shadow. She was wearing an evening gown with a slit in the skirt that rose to her waist and a high, ruffled collar. The whole thing was an emerald green that made Dr. Septopus think of forest groves illuminated by dappled sunlight peeking through gaps in leaves, and there was a necklace with an expensive-looking purple stone set in it around her neck. "I didn't want to disturb you. What is that?" She gestured towards the pile of metal.
"A write-off, according to the insurance company," said Dr. Septopus. "It used to be a clockwork carriage with heat-seeking missile defences, x-ray lasers and a squid-gun."
"What happened to it?" asked Sylvestra, and then her brain caught up with her ears. "And what's a squid gun do? Fire squid at people?"
"It fires a lemon-fresh liquid," said Dr. Septopus, "that just happens to be the mating pheromone of the Kalahari Kalamari. He can smell it from up to eight miles away and it drives him into a leg-humping frenzy."
"Nasty," said Sylvestra, admiringly. "I certainly wouldn't want old Yukky Tentacles trying to breed with my legs--"
"Think higher," murmured Dr. Septopus.
"--but you haven't told me what happened to it."
"Green did," said Dr. Septopus. He heaved a sigh. "I know, I know, I shouldn't lend him anything, but he kept on and on until I snapped and told him to shut up and take it. I'm lucky to get this much back, I suppose. Where is he? I should go and shout at him."
Sylvestra coughed gently and seemed to fade slightly as though the shadows were taking her back. "The Make a Wish foundation took him," she said, in the tone of voice you ask a murderer to reconsider killing you.
"Really? Isn't he a bit old for them? I thought you had to be physically a child, not just mentally, for them to grant you a wish."
"Not like that," said Sylvestra.
"And he's not dying again, is he?" Dr. Septopus finally listened to her. "What? What do mean, not like that?"
"Apparently there's a child out there who has the Green Lightbulb as their hero," said Sylvestra, letting the shadows swallow her completely as Dr. Septopus, in a fit of rage, started spraying ink everywhere.

Marc said...

Greg - as I recall I did feel better the next morning, so there was that at least.

Hah, always a treat to see these two together. I am left a tad worried about that child and how that wish is going to turn out though...