The idea of turning the story of the Trojan horse into something a little nicer, and possibly friendlier, seems an inexplicable idea to some. Those are the people we do not defend. Nor, do we attack them. They simply do not know any better.
The Gap Inbetween
‘Let’s play a much more fun game,’ said the inductee of fairly good ideas.
“They” was the word.
They didn’t get it right the first time, and the world would wake up before they were ready.
‘What happens next,’ shouted someone across the gorge.
‘That’s where you come in and say, “You know what, I know this joke”.’
‘Like a back and forth? Like ping pong?’
‘Just like that.’
So, I start with a line or two, and you add a line or two there, and then they add a line or two after, and then another one, and we must remember to like each one, mustn’t we. That’s how it has always gone. Try to be a little more pleasant, if it is at all possible (apparently, it is not. Pleasant means kind). They are so rolling their eyes at a certain someone who couldn’t keep his hand out of his furry bits. Normal, yes, but really not something that needs repeating as often as it is… (no criminal intent, no scenes or riots, no nasty, just a game kids can play… Obviously, some people do not understand games for kids who actually go to school. There is your problem)
‘It was a wooden horse carved long ago. Many men have leapt out of it over the years, and even a woman or two.’
(carry the horse)
“I’ve got three weeks to go…”
.’…until I get married, and three years to go until I’ve finished my studies.’
The handwritten note had been tossed onto the bed in front of him and he stared at it for quite some time. He hadn’t quite figured out why these things were all happening, yet, but knew he was partly to blame.
‘I didn’t take those pictures,’ he muttered. ‘I just look at them from time to time and wonder who these people are.’ Up until now, he hadn’t questioned why he’d stolen them from the lady’s page. It just seemed like a good idea at the time. He was beginning to regret that now, though. Now, he was starting to wonder if he might have made a terrible mistake.
‘Did you get much for those stolen scenes?’ asked the little voice in his head, conversationally.
‘I didn’t steal them. You said you weren’t doing anything with them, so I took them, that’s all.’
‘That’s considered stealing, in my book.’
‘I didn’t let them take it… you did… I did… I didn’t… Just let me think about it, you’d said.’ He was grasping at straws now, and he knew it. Breaking into other people’s laptops was pretty easy when you knew how, especially when one was an ugly little weasel who had run out of ideas for scripts. ‘I obviously didn’t think this through,’ he added. ‘But now, I think I might have made a terrible mistake.’
‘How many other times have you stolen script ideas and writing over the years? What other things have you nicked from people’s laptops? I find this very interesting.’ The person in his head was definitely not him, he knew that now, and he was beginning to regret many, many things he had tried to do over the last twelve months.
‘I was told you were offered a controlling portion of great and wonderful things,’ he cried.
‘I think you might be wrong there. I, personally, haven’t been offered anything. At all. Ever.’
‘Oh just let me get something out of my drawer,’ He wasn’t going to be getting anything out of his drawer today though, was he.
‘That’s not how it goes, buddy. No one says, “Just let me get something out of my drawer.” That is very badly written. I know where you’re heading with it, but you know, why waste a perfectly good scene on badly written scripts, when one could just say, “I have made a terrible mistake, and I apologise for taking several key parts of a story written on the internet quite some time ago, and putting it all into one shambling episode that ended up making not much sense at all”.’
‘Nobody watches it anymore, anyway, you said that.’ The producer had wet his pants, again. ‘ Free to air TV just doesn’t get the viewers it used to, and my boss dolled it up, and I think I am dreaming of something but I know we all get paid, so I just don’t understand why no one went and paid the lady we got these things off, because we didn’t think it was a good idea either. How do we get hold of someone we owe a great deal of money to, when I thought she was dead? Why didn’t anyone fly out west and offer her something at least?’
‘Like I said, someone else did it, not me,’ said the sad kid. ‘I just went along for the ride and stayed up all night watching the kids getting better, cos that’s what it’s all about, right?’
‘Right. It’s also about not getting greedy and taking other people’s things because you’re trying to “Save a show”. I guess you mob have only got two choices now. You can’t exactly say it’s iconic anymore, anyway, and, although I am very sure it is very close to some older actors hearts, I am also quite sure they would be as equally disgusted as I am, that someone, or several someone’s, have sunk to such an incredible new low.’
‘Look, we just forgot you guys were on the other side of the country, that’s all. No one goes there anyway.’
A number of people who had lived in a certain part of the world until just recently, raised their eyebrows at their eastern states counterparts. It wasn’t like they could say much, not really. They had forgotten about this place themselves.
‘I guess the more of it I see appearing, on that show in particular, the higher the compensation will be,’ the frequent flyer from one side to the country to the other nodded his head. ‘No one should be making money out of other people’s misery, should they? Especially when the entire story, except for just a few little snippets on the end, was written at least ten years ago, and the lady in question is not doing too well, not really. You see, someone thought it would be a great joke to break into her laptop and steal all the things she’d been writing, and other things besides, and despite the fact she spoke with several people, no one did a fucking thing about it. So, here we are holding out a very empty hand full of nothing, and suggesting perhaps you put something in it.’
Just checking in…
Hi! In case some people were wondering, there are a few things I have not agreed to at all.
Got a few little photos and vids available of written work I’ve done over the years, as well as a copy of something I wrote. It was rather large.
Oh yes, by the way, I’m not dead yet. I do know some people who perhaps have copies of things I’ve written, so I expect I’ll be receiving some kind of compensation for stolen manuscripts and the ideas held within.
As I sit here, having watched a certain TV show this evening, I’m rather inclined to be feeling very poor, seeing as I’m currently unemployed, have no source of income for myself, and am relying on my husband of nearly 26 years to pay the bills.
I guess this is okay to happen to people who can’t afford to defend themselves? Even published authors, apparently.
It’s a shame I contacted people about this last year when I first suspected what was going on.
It’s also a shame I have the original work, before it was edited by myself. All the ideas remain the same, aside from a discussed ending within my immediate family and an overseas group of writers. There may also be little snippets of the fact I’ve been working on this for some time, floating around the internet… if you know where to look.
Sorry, private phone number now… but I’m sure you’ll be able to get in touch with someone if ya need to.
Don’t walk behind a Horse.
‘My choice,’ says the man on the black stallion. ‘This is what I want to do.’
‘You want to ride the Black?’
‘He is a beautiful horse, although you say the story is better.’
‘The story is always better.’ She points towards an old book. Perhaps it had been made after the movie had come out, for the cover had been updated. ‘This is the story, here. And he made a beautiful movie.’
‘And the boy in that movie… Is he still alive?’
‘I don’t remember his name. He did a good job, although it would have been terrifying for him if he had got on the actual stallion as he (the stallion) was portrayed in the book. They changed the race scene as well in the movie, if I remember correctly. Not all horses want to play the part they are given/not given. I expect that’s what the problem was, and they already had the horses.’
‘That seems a likely reason,’ said someone who was particularly good with horses. ‘Can I say something please,’ added the person, who had decided to change tactics, at least for today. ‘It was not exactly fair to charge us for something we did not use, was it?’
‘I do not see your point,’ said the man standing at the fence. ‘I charge you, you pay. That’s it.’
‘I disagree,’ the rider said, and once again began to circle the horse. ‘You see, old chap, we do not live in your world, and you do not make these decisions. These decisions will be made the correct way, and if there is no good reason for them, which there are not as far as I can tell, then I am afraid I am going to have to cancel on you.’
‘Please remind me of this payment,’ said someone testily. ‘it was not that big, if I remember.’
‘Not really the point if one does not know why they are there, still.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, ya daft fucker, if I said I only put up a picture once, not a photograph, but more of a wallpaper for a phone, and then took it down, and then no longer had access to it… because that’s all I can think of, why would I still be paying for it?’
‘This is not what we agreed,’ shrieked a small and desperate masked man. ‘You said it was a nice picture. That was the deal.’
‘I can’t make a deal on a picture I no longer have though. I believe that’s reasonable.’
‘She said that too.’ The man looked at his masked face in a mirror, the mirror of which had not been anywhere near the scene five minutes ago. ‘I do not think I should wear this mask anymore, mama. I think I understand now. I believe these people are trying to get someone to buy their crap, and I think this was a coverup by them to dissuade you from reporting on them. I think I am right.’
‘I gave them a chance to stop charging me for something I do not have, and it still continues. I believe I have been very kind to these people in that regard. I also believe,’ and the rider got down quite easily from the horse, because sometimes people know how to do things properly. ‘That I am not getting really angry quite yet, but when I actually do, I might just start heading your way, in a manner of speaking. So, make your choice to stop charging me, or I will make the choice to follow it back to its source through any means necessary. We do have the means necessary, you know. We are quite advanced, in that regard.’
‘This was your conversation with me many moons ago,’ said a desperate banker. ‘I did not follow it up then, but I will need to follow it up today, won’t I?”
‘Seeing as they also won’t allow me to make changes on my own bank account, I believe you will. This is the point of no return, kiddo.’
‘I don’t speak your language,’ the small and desperate con man said.
‘Well, I’m pretty sure we have someone around here who speaks yours. I don’t believe I will wait again, to see if you have stopped charging me. I believe I will still go ahead and make the phone call, and they will make sure this payment is stopped. I am pretty damn sure you can understand that, once it’s translated.’ The rider patted the horse on his velvety nose. ‘Don’t be a romantic either, mate. It doesn’t suit you.’
‘You know these people?’ A bystander seemed confused.
‘I can tell you who I don’t know,’ said the rider. ‘And that’s the pricks charging me for shit I’m not using. Is “No” not a good enough answer for you lot? You’re a bunch of dickless wonders, and I do not say that nicely.’
‘If this gets out, there’ll be hell to pay,’ a nasty little criminal said to his partner. ‘It’s highly likely we are not clever enough to get away with this anymore, especially if all eyes are on this writing woman. She “does not like anything about any of this”, she said that quite clearly, and I’m quoting her, and yet we chose to ignore her.’ (It’s called enunciation, bud. You should try it sometime, ya fat little fuck. It makes things so much clearer to all concerned about someone’s intent when it’s said out loud, ya got me?)
‘I still don’t speak your language,’ said the distant gremlins. ‘I have so much of your stuff I have acquired illegally it would not hold up in a court of law, simply for the fact I acquired it illegally.’
‘I think I wanna be Frank now,’ someone said. They had put their mask back on and were behaving in a distinctly suspicious manner. ‘I wanna go home.’
‘Bit late for that, I reckon,’ said the rider. She remounted the horse, again, quite easily, and said something under her breath. ‘You should probably run,’ she added with a broad smile. ‘My work here is done.’
‘What does that mean,’ asked the small, intimidated, and not very attractive at all, person trying to be a man. They had no idea what that meant — trying to be a man. Some people just aren’t cut out for certain things, and some others simply refuse to do them. Not all people can be put in the same basket, though, and this is what the small “man” did not understand.
The rider was not a small man.
‘My horse is very well trained. I believe, in some places, many many moons ago, these particular rather thick-necked beasts were called destriers. And, I just told him to back up on you. If you don’t know what that means, be very prepared for a kick in the head.’
Simple Creatures (if ya dunno, ya dunno)
“Let me explain,’ said the harried looking and not at all like anyone I know, person, if that is what one could call people like that people like that. ‘We were joking.’
‘Really? Is that what you do when you are joking?’
‘Look, luv…’
Oh he did not just go there.
‘Who ya callin’ luv, luv?’
‘Let me explain…’
‘Just a minute. Let me put me greaves on.’
‘Greaves?’
‘Yeah mate, and gauntlets. Remember them?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Your corrections were wrong the first time, and I let it go, and they are wrong now, as well. This time, I don’t think I’ll let it go.’
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you?’
‘Is that a question?’
‘Oh hell. It’s going to hell. I tell ya wot, lemme explain.’
She cocks her head. ‘Please?’
‘Please what?’
‘You are meant to say, please, let me explain.’
There might have been a sneaky high five. I’m not congratulating anyone, bud. I’m just watchin’.
‘When did you grow balls?’
‘When did you lose yours?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Are you deaf or do you always repeat yourself, ya daft f*ck.’
‘Oh jesus, she can’t be let in there again. They would all die of embarrassment.’
‘OOOH, let me in where?’
‘No. No. You can’t go in there, you evil woman. Stop that right now.’
‘Nah fuck it. All very cold, obviously. Are you cold, mate?’
‘I do not wish to answer that question.’
‘Shrivel dick, I asked you if you were cold.’
‘I obviously have no need to answer that question. Look, just give me a moment and…’
‘Fuck your moment, mate.’
‘Are they all like that?’ he whispered this to an offsider.
‘Some of them. She is. Obviously.’
‘What was that place called again?’
‘I reckon you’ll figure it out, mate. If you got the right accent, anyway.’
‘Is there a wrong accent?’
‘Nah. Not really. Just the ones that don’t have quite the same, wow I can’t even call it nasal. Is it a pirate seagull, mum?’
‘An Australian seagull, bit of cockney, bit of la dee da, yeah, probably pirate. You lot wanna be pirates too?’
‘Oh I bin waitin for this un.’ Old bloke in the pub starts laughing.
‘Bin a while since I seen that ‘un.’
‘Good movie, mate.’
‘Ta. Made it meself.’
‘ ‘e was an Oirish lad, back in de day. ‘E’d ‘ave to troi a lill ‘arder now. It’s okay, Oi’ll duitt.’
‘Oi.’
‘Master stroke,’ whispers the bystander.
‘Ta.’
Mostly fiction.
… Beth reached the next intersection without mishap, once again stopping to poke her head around the corner. The short hall she stood in seemed to be made of patients (inmates, she muttered in her head) rooms only. If the rooms were anything like her own, and she fancied they were, there would be sealed glass windows, and only one exit. If she stayed in the halls and continued to deviate to the right at each intersection, surely she would find a door to the outside soon. It seemed logical.
Well, it does to me, anyway, she thought. ‘I’ll be okay.’ She made her movements slow so as not to attract attention, remembering her days back in the field. In the field? Never mind, go with it, she thought to herself. Good plan, what’s next? Oh, I’m talking to myself again. Fan-bloody-tastic.
If she had been a tad more mobile, she’d have crouched out of eyeline, but she did not think she was quite up to that yet. Pushing the wayward thoughts from her mind, she concentrated on the mission.
Oh, the mission now is it? No wonder everyone thinks you’re a raving lunatic.
This would be the nurses station. A large white sign hung on the wall, EAST WING written in bold black letters. Underneath it sat a young man behind a wide desk. He had administered her medication earlier. She frowned. It might be difficult to manoeuvre past this jumped-up upstart. As she watched, she heard something buzzing softly. The nurse paused in his writing and picked up a nearby phone. Beth held her breath as he glanced at the screen in front of him.
‘Thankyou,’ he said into the receiver before placing it gently back onto a pile of files. He shuffled the papers in front of him and stacked them into another neat pile, then swivelled in his chair to open a drawer with gay abandon, flinging paper into the air everywhere and laughing, with equally gay abandon. Okay, perhaps the last part didn’t happen, but never mind.
Now was her chance.
Beth tiptoed, very sneakily indeed, across the open space in front of the desk (later, okay, I’ll fix it later). Keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the nurse, she snuck a brief glance at the corridor ahead. Four more steps, and she’d be out of there. Three. Two…
CLANG.
The bombastic metallic thunk of the metal bin toppling sideways onto the tiles, followed by a, not unpleasant, rolling rattle as the round lid fell off, froze her mid-sneak, one raised foot having just kicked the damn thing into the middle of the floor. She looked up in horror.
The nurse casually turned away from the open drawer and smiled pleasantly, if slightly toothily. ‘Would you like some help with that?’
‘Bugger.’
Right, then.
‘Gonna be like that, then, is it?’
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘Oh, you didn’t need to, ya little sh*t, I know exactly what you did, and once again, you forgot the other side of the effing country.’
‘I did not see the other side of the effing country.’
‘Well, it was based on the other side of the effing country. Which way are the eyes facing, eh? We are lookin’ at you.’
The green eyed one was looking at the other, other side of the country. ‘Apparently, we still don’t exist. Isn’t it amazing that we still don’t exist. I’m not getting political at all. It is not in my nature. By the way, I have been there. I had to go allllll the way over there just to see a band. It was okay, I guess. Different.’
They start to mutter to themselves. ‘Did he just? I didn’t know he was here.’
‘Yes, he was,’ says his mother, and she raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t say anything else, but all the other westies know what she’s thinking. ‘We aren’t particularly stupid, and we haven’t forgotten how to speak properly, but we also haven’t forgotten how to dance to a stick with bottle-tops on it.’
‘Yes.’ Someone does a weird underhand punching motion that looks like he’s pulled back on it a bit so no one would get hurt if they’re standing in the way unintentionally.
‘That’s why I moved there,’ said an unnamed person. ‘They can be a lot more real. Most of them anyway. It is rather hot though.’
‘You get used to it,’ said a very tanned and, in his opinion, absolutely beautiful male of indistinct heritage. ‘My mum said I can come back whenever I want, ‘cos I’m a spunk and you’re not.’
The Independent publisher man was horrified. ‘You did NOT just say that. I am too, a spunk that is. My mum said I’m really cool.’
‘I think that might depend on the situation,’ said the mum of three young men. ‘I am not trying to sell them off, but really I think I raised some good looking blokes, so there.’
‘I know,’ said the mother of two girls and a boy. ‘I raised some pretty good lookin’ kids myself. So there.’
The mother of three girls shook her head. ‘Other people might not agree. You lot are trouble with a capital T. My lot are also trouble with a capital T, and I think if I married two of mine to two of yours, then we’d all be in trouble with a capital T.’
She was probably right.
The brother of the one who thought she was totally awesome shook his head and laughed to himself. ‘My sisters and I can dance really cool if we wanna. We just choose to be nice people.’ The dances they had done back in the day tended to take up most of the dance floor, and it was not the highland fling although it resembled it in a number of ways. ‘So, I guess there’s that.’ (His sister had been his wingman on one occasion.)
She had smiled at one of them once and nearly tripped over her own elbow. They had thought that was one of the funniest things they’d ever seen. ‘If he does that kind of thing, a lot of young women would have been in trouble back in the day,’ someone observes. ‘But, we are not allowed to talk about that, which doesn’t seem fair.’
D does not agree with any of this. ‘They are all quite magical, I said that to my dad, and he agreed. I think we should make a movie on this lot, and my dad just gave me the filthiest look. He said you guys are insane, but in a really funny way. He said,’ and here he points at someone else entirely. ‘He could not get your head in a vice because he trained you to get out of one, and he remembers that too. He’s kinda cool for an old guy with no hair.’
Some other people were mortified. ‘I do not think you can say that, D,’ said someone who knew how the system worked. ‘I think you might have to pull your head in, just a bit.’
‘I do not care about these people in my head,’ said D. ‘I am quite sure they can’t be real, because there is simply no chance they can be that cool. Who made them up?’
There was silicone in his world, and he didn’t quite understand that really cool people were not the people he thought they were.
‘Definitely not real,’ he muttered. ‘This is not my time at all. These guys are seriously not my people, but I can’t help but be impressed behind the scenes. That did not make sense, but I can’t seem to tell her I think they’re freshly minted coins and this is still not my time. Not today.’
No one understood that at all, and he didn’t mind, because apparently they weren’t meant to. ‘Not my time to die,’ he said, very clearly. ‘That’s all.’
Who was AARGH the seagull?
It might be time to get comfortable, so I can tell you the story of AARGH. Kids can read this one too, it’s quite safe, although as the story goes on it might get a little sad.
Anthony Andrew Robert Graham Herbert, or Aargh as he was known, was an excellent pilot. You might think all seagulls are excellent pilots because all seagulls can fly. People pilots fly too, mostly, unless they’re driving a great big ship, but we are talking about flying pilots, and flying pilots that are seagulls, so, although you may have just learned something new, we aren’t going to talk about that right now.
The fact all seagulls can fly does not make them pilots. Nope. A seagull pilot is extra special because they are particularly good at flying, and Aargh was a particularly extra special pilot because he was particularly extra good at it. Aargh could tell when it was going to rain, or whether it was going to be windy or sunny, or all those other weathery type things without even looking at a radar. He used that extra special way of thinking to his advantage, because he used the weather to fly smarter.
He liked to travel, too. Most seagulls don’t like to travel too far at once because they’re a little bit lazy. All they are really interested in is food, and the easiest way to get it.
I’m not saying Aargh wasn’t interested in food. He definitely was. But, he liked to go places and see things, and he liked to feel the wind under his wings. Because of this, he travelled further, and further all the time — which was probably the reason he was such a good pilot. If you want to be really good at something, you have to do it all the time, not sit around and eat things and be lazy, and shout at other seagulls. I’m not saying he didn’t shout at other seagulls, because he did (a lot), but that was just part of his charm.
That’s what he said, anyway.
Now, you might wonder why such a charming seagull as Anthony Andrew Robert Graham Herbert would shorten his name to Aargh. It sounds a bit squawky, doesn’t it?
As it happens, this is a very normal thing to do amongst seagulls. You see, most seagulls have long beautiful names, but it’s very hard to get your name out really quickly when you’re trying to grab a chip, or a piece of bread. It’s also really hard for other seagulls to yell out your name when they’re trying to get your attention. For this reason, they get all the letters of their whole name and they put it all together, like AARGH, or EEEK, or CORR. (I haven’t met a seagull yet called Blimey, and I think it might be a bit long.) Anyway, when you see seagulls eating, you might hear them saying things like that. They are yelling out their own names, or each other’s.
They say other words, of course, but people don’t hear those words too much. I think this is mostly because they don’t see seagulls up close too often when they’re not eating so they can’t hear them talking. Personally, I like to listen to them when they are resting on one leg with their eyes closed, or have found themselves a nice warm spot in the sand to sleep for a bit. Then, I might hear things like, ‘Bloody wind nearly blew me over just then’, or ‘Nice and warm, nice and warm, don’t poop here.’
As I was saying, Aargh was a pilot, and he used to travel. It’s how he meets his wife. She lived up one end of the country, and he lived down the other end. Well, he didn’t really live down the other end, because he travelled all the time, and wherever he laid his lap that was his home, but he was born down the other end.
I guess that shows just how far he could travel…
…to be continued.
Verily
‘Yeah ana yew, do boobybom…’
The name of the song was Beautiful People, but it took me years to figure that out. The band was called Australian Crawl.
I thought to myself when I heard the song (possibly every time I heard the song to be honest), ‘Where are the lyrics saying beautiful people?’ All I could hear was those words up there, and some guy swearing about ‘never gonna make it, never gonna take it, never gonna make it, never gonna take it down.’
Oh I did hear the words, “Pee pole”, and didn’t think it was inappropriate at all, because I didn’t understand anything else about it.
I had a friend who thought (Cold)Chisel’s song about cheap wine had three day old toast in it. It did not sound very appetising. I did question that, but she was adamant that’s what it was.
As for my husband, he makes it very difficult to remember the meanings of anything, because he makes stuff up all the time. It’s bloody annoying sometimes, but absolutely hilarious at others. I still remember the time he very seriously explained to me he’d heard “someone got salamander poisoning”.
So, I guess when I hear the words in my head to “Posthumously”, I correct it very carefully to “post humorously” because posting anything else wouldn’t be too flash, would it. It reminds me of the little girl across the road when I was a kid, who had found a mouse in her toaster that morning. It looked like it had been toasted for approximately four minutes, slightly more, and she had put it in a little bag to take to school for show and tell. I do not remember what the outcome was, but do remember being slightly horrified at the time.
This is why, a lot of the time, if someone else writes something, and it isn’t quite right, I’ll correct it in my head. If it’s mine, sometimes I’ll leave it there to remind me that no one is perfect, least of all myself. It all takes me back to a crispy mouse in a paper bag.
Meanwhile, I’ll leave you with a clip to a song.
Kate Capewell - Ambrosia Wishes 