Chock Lit

He wasn't a man of many words. Many considered him to be mildly quirky, if not completely forgettable. In truth, most people's thoughts of him rolled out of that brain like water off a duck's back. And that's exactly what he was going for.

Martin was in fact an international soy who worked for multiple agencies in a multitude of countries. While on or off assignment, he would throw caution to the wind till the cows came home. He truly feared nothing...

Except pitbulls.

Sure to a transfer childhood experience, Martin was deathly afraid of pitbulls. Which was why, when Martin found out the flash drive full of nuclear launch codes had been hidden in the doghouse, Martin retired.

No more paying lip service for Queen and country. No more reverse interrogations, maintaining focus till he'd have stars in his eyes. From now on, Martin would simple be.

David Clarke.

Carrier Pigeon

Cat Mihos
for Neil Gaiman
4470 Sunset Blvd. # 339
Los Angeles, CA 90027

Dear Mr. Gaiman,

I am currently working through a book entitled Take Ten for Writers by Bonnie Neubauer. It is a book of writing exercises designed to get the creative juices flowing. The exercise I'm currently working on involves writing a letter to a creative hero and sending it in the most creative way. Bonnie recommends carrier pigeons. I am, unfortunately, poor and lack the experience to train pigeons myself. But a coconut seemed fairly simple. I am happy to send Lorraine a few mangoes as well. I just need to know where to send them. But I digress.

Many years ago I was enthralled by a fantastic film called Stardust. I can't tell you how many times I went back to the theaters to see it again. When Stardust hit the dollar theaters, I made another exodus or five. Everyone I spoke with had to hear about this wonderful new addition to my life. Until I met someone who had read the book. Almost immediately I obtained the book and read it cover to cover. "This Gaiman guy is a genius!" I said to myself. Shortly thereafter, I was introduced to American Gods, Anansi Boys, Neverwhere, and Coroline.

And then my world changed completely. A friend of mine lent me a copy of Good Omens. I am sure you have heard people who eloquence and language skills far exceed my own go on about how great a book Good Omens is. So I will not bore you with another description of how much I loved the book.

Instead, I simply want to thank you for writing.

I have recently begun reading your blog and have found lots of great advice for aspiring writers. As the author—or compiler—of said advice, I'm certain that you are much more aware of how great the advice actually is.

Keep writing. The world is full of troubling events and people who, quite frankly, terrify me. But I have found that a good book, a movie, television series, radio broadcast, any engaging work of art has the power to hold all the dark forces of the world at bay and bring respite to the audience, the reader, the viewer. Even if only for a couple hours, art has the power to change.

Thank you for your art.

Sincerely,

Matthew Farnsworth
mcfarns@gmail.com

Captain of Captivating Captions

LOCAL PALAEOBOTANIST SUCCESSFULLY CLONES PREHISTORIC TOMATO

New Boston, MI—Dr. Renee Kendall, daughter of local businessman Frank Kendall, announced last Friday that she and her team had successfully cloned an early ancestor of the modern tomato. According to Dr. Kendall, the cloning of the Lunarum lycopersicum was made possible only after the partially fossilized remains of the plant was discovered in a dig site just west of Hannan Road. Dr. Kendall recently returned after completing her doctorate in palaeobotany from the Biodiversity Institute of Kansas University. Kendall informed the New Boston News that she was "quite surprised when [her] home town was mentioned as a possible origin for the prehistoric fruit." Kendall speculates that this ancient tomato probably had more in common with our modern potato. According to her research, the L. lycopersicum, or moon tomato as Kendall calls it, grew under a thin layer of soil and was  almost entirely unknown to prehistoric humanoids. She hopes to reintroduce the crop to the world later this year.

-D. McFarns

Word Bowling and a Turkey Dinner

Frame 1:

Ladies and gentlemen, it is with honor I take these scissors and cut this ribbon, signifying the grand opening of the official Chocolate Hall-of-Fame. Many years of research and scientific studies have gone into developing this sweet treat. I personally remember getting chalk all over my suit late into the night, living off soda and granola bars. But Mark was a real champ and together we created something great. I'm thankful for all the support we've received from our families who, thankfully, did not choke on our many failed experiments. We've also had to deal with an occasional spy or two trying to cheat us out of our success. But here we are. And now, without any further adieu...

Frame 2:

Chalk outlines stream across the road. Hollow promises he had made, the Champ. If only they had known he would cheat. He had only put a drop in each chocolate bar. He couldn't have known that it would case them to choke on the first bite. If he had run scientific tests he would have known. All he had to do was add a little baking soda. If he had known. But he had been a spy in school, leaning on better shoulders for support. And now, every candy bar is more dangerous than running with a pair of scissors. 

Frame 3:

To the Commander: General Hertz, the spy that we have been searching for, has been apprehended. The documents were located in a crate of soda bottles that were found with him. His plan had been to choke the pilot and deliver the documents, evidence that the Red Hare is a cheat, to his Elbonian contact, code name: the Champ. We were able to use adhesive chalk to immobilize the target while we waited for tactical support to arrive. The only weapons he was carrying was a large knife and a blow dart gun disguised as a pair of scissors. We also found a box of chocolates in the target's possession  We are running scientific tests to toxins and other anomalies, but have found nothing as yet. End transmission.

Calligrammes

The Biopic

INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY

A lonely coffin stands open in a stark, white room with a floral wreath resting on an easel nearby. Inside the coffin is an OLD MAN wearing a tuxedo.

MATTHEW (V.O.)

I am happy to tell you that this is not me. I would like to tell you that this was a good man.

BEGIN FLASHBACK:

INT. OFFICE - DAY

OLD MAN is shaking hands with a poorly dressed man while handing him a large sack with a dollar sign on the side. Both men wear large smiles.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

And maybe he was. You see the first time I saw Patrick...

END FLASHBACK:

INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY

A preacher and congregation have been added to the stark room.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

...was at his funeral. But I'm sure he was a great guy.

An choir of angels materializes behind the preacher. A bright, angelic glow surrounds the choir.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

I was asked by the granddaughter, a friend of mine, to sing at the funeral.

The angelic glow fades and the "angels" turn into ordinary singers dressed in concert attire.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

And I am certainly glad I said yes.

EXT. FUNERAL HOME - A HOUR EARLIER

A sleek black car pulls up and parks in front of the funeral home.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

Because the funeral was also the first time I met Mindy.

The car door opens and out steps MINDY (26). Imagine the most attractive woman on the planet and you'd be on the right track of describing her.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

Turns out that Mindy was also singing at the funeral. Best funeral I've ever been to.

INT. MATTHEW'S HOUSE - LATER

MATTHEW (25), Mindy, and several other choir members are playing board games around a large table.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

After the funeral we went over to my place for games and refreshment.

INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT

Matthew, Mindy, a couple choir members and several others sit around a table eating, laughing and having a good time.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

Shortly thereafter Mindy and I went on a date...

Matthew puts his arm around a girl, not Mindy, and a CHOIR BOY (27) puts his arm around Mindy.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

...just not with each other. At least not yet.

INT. MATTHEW'S HOUSE - NIGHT

Matthew and Mindy are sitting on a couch, watching a movie and holding hands.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

After a few months I realized the error of my ways and asked Mindy out on a proper date.

INT. MATTHEW'S HOUSE - ANOTHER NIGHT

Matthew and Mindy are dancing in the living room while a movie plays in the background.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

Shortly thereafter we enjoyed our first dance...

Matthew draws Mindy closer and gently kisses her on the lips.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

...and our first kiss.

Matthew and Mindy smile at each other. They kiss again.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

... and our second kiss.

INT. MATTHEW'S HOUSE - AFTERNOON

Mindy sits on the couch solving a Rubik's Cube. Matthew sits on the ground watching.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

And it wasn't too long before I decided to ask her a question.

Mindy finishes solving the Rubik's Cube and the pieces fall apart revealing an engagement ring.

Matthew gets onto one knee, picks up the ring, and slips it onto Mindy's finger. They hug and then kiss.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

The day before we were married was the last day I lived at my folks' house.

EXT. MATTHEW'S HOUSE - DAY

Matthew and Mindy drive away in a decorated car that says "Just Married" on the back windshield.

MATTHEW (CON'T)

And life is good.

FADE OUT:

Bear Stories

New York was a wild place back then, and so was William's Tavern. See Willie and I had grown up near each other and often would get the other in or out of some sort of mischief. But the worst was the summer of 1628. It was common in those days to have the young men spend some time up in the hills to trap fur to make blankets and clothing and such, not to mention the meat and lard. I was a pretty good tracker for my age, but when it came to killing, nobody could best Willie Preston.

Anyway, 1628 Willie and I went up to the hills looking for deer or elk. About the third or fourth day we came across some massive tracks. I figured they had to be a bear since nothing else I knew of could leave tracks that big. Willie and I talked it over and decided that we could only spend 2 days on the bear before heading back for supplies. We were doing just fine until we were hit by a freak tropical storm. At the time we were sure that God himself was unleashing his full wrath down on us. It wasn't half an hour before we lost the trail as well as any sense of where we were.

After stumbling around for an hour, we came across a cave that could keep us from getting too much wetter. Willie started work on a fire while I surveyed our surroundings and started hunting for any clues as to where we were. It wasn't too long before I noticed the stench of death on my tongue. I tried getting Willie's attention, but it was too late.

A large flame erupted and doused the cave in a ball of yellow light, illuminating a massive, 24 foot bear, swiping his paw in full fury. Willie never did stand a chance. I got lucky. I never did tell his folks exactly how Willie died. I just couldn't bear it.