While we were waiting...

Indulge me whilst I share a project from my online writing group..

While the participant were enthusiastically enrolling, I threw in an ice breaker (as I do) and suggested a quick challenge. I'll post a picture, and please write a paragraph or two to explain, or hint at the back story. It has been well received and the responses are quite sensational.

But in keeping with good writing protocols I shall only share my response. If others wish to add theirs in the comments, I welcome it as there are some talented folks out there

From me...

Thank you all for attending at short notice...I shall read from a prepared statement.

“I would like to confirm that I was involved in a late night incident approximately three weeks ago in the London Olympic village, and would like to clear up some of the scandalous rumor and innuendo that has been circulating on social media since.

Some have questioned why I was in London in the first place given that I had no interest at all in the royal family up until now. I will admit the prospect of a chance meeting with Pippa Middleton’s butt may have been a contributing factor, but can I state for the record that I was there to “visit the Queen”.  

My attempts to access the palace were initially successful, but the unfamiliar surroundings meant that instead of frightening a little mouse under a chair i was accidentally locked in a closet in one of the Royal corridors. I may have been stuck in there for longer, but was saved by the fact that it belonged to Prince Edward, and he wanted to get back in there. I was ejected from the palace by a burly Guardsman named Precious, but I digress, this was not the incident I am here to explain..

Later that evening I found myself at the Olympic village precinct, accepting an offer from Usain Bolt to Party. Prior to this I had never drank Powerade.
Yes, I will admit that I was under the influence of electrolytes and red food colouring, and yes I should have stayed with the Swedish Handball team, but instead I found myself in the company of the Siamese Judo squad. I was coerced into drinking jello tequila shots with another outsider within the group, whose flowing mane of black hair and elfen like features hypnotized me. Her sleek long body and the signature white stripe that ran from her neck to the tip of her tail...and it was only when I held her close in an alcoholic embrace that I realized she was not who I thought she was. This was the second worst mistake of the evening.

I have now come to realize that screaming out “SKUNK” is not the smartest thing to do in a room full of strangers. Compounding this was the fact that my tequila speech defect made it sound like “Skank”. These two elements led to half of the room deciding to make a frenzied rush for the nearest exit, which was just behind me, and the other half of the room taking personal offence at my name calling. Last thing I remember was high pitched screeching, breaking glass and the unsettling sound of ping pong balls falling to the ground...then darkness.

Doctors say that I will make a reasonable recover, regain 90 % vision in my left eye, and full lateral movement in my neck. They still wonder how I lost my right front leg, as do I, but avoid asking why I have difficulty sitting..and when I do, why can I smell coriander and peanuts.

I have nothing more to add at this point in time, except to say that I look forward to Rio 2016 Paralympic games...

Thank you
Bronson ‘Tripod’ Rangaman”


Now...back to your own beds and I'll tell yer fer why

DB

The Frank No Pants GPS

The GPS is a strange device, considering many of us don't like being told where to go. Apparently the recorded voice which gives the directions can sometimes have a bit of a meltdown and start saying things that make you uncomfortable.
"Well, Clarice - have the lambs stopped screaming?."
Or just paranoid...like they are HAL the computer from 2001 A Space Odyssey.
"I'm sorry, Dave. I'm afraid I can't do that..."

Recently I had the pleasure of participating in a number of writing exercises with a group from the USA. Unfortunately I was accompanied by the Esteemed Frank No Pants, and was obliged to include him in the above mentioned exercises.

One of the exercises has relevance to the topic of GPS and what can happen when you are guided by the misguided. For your reading pleasure.

Warning: May contain adolescent humour

The Quest

Frank’s voice reeked of “I told you so’s”

“This is important so please stop your whining, have a spoon full of concrete and toughen up. You got us into this mess and I’m going to have to get you out of it!”

I hated every word that came out of his self-righteous mouth at the moment, even more than usual.

“Frank, I’m still on the Riverside Expressway heading west. The GPS seems to have been reprogrammed to make flatulence noises followed by giggling every time I try to press a button..”

“Well that’s a problem then isn’t it”

“Yes, it is a problem!!”

“I thought I had it reprogrammed to only do that when you took a wrong turn”. Frank paused to consider the implications of this, dismissed them as irrelevant and continued with the task at hand. “Once again, as with most things in life, I will guide you.”

Although I had the phone on loud speaker, the urge to pick it up and yell at the pompous twit on the other end was simmering.

“Please concentrate then, and no messing me around. I’m under a lot of stress at the moment. Which exit do I need to take and how long do we have?”

Frank No Pants adjusted his headset and opened the screen for Brizgoogle Hanidmaps.

“Ok, coming up on your left is the exit for Margaret Street. This is a one way street leading to Eagle street pier.”

“So I’m heading for Eagle street?”

“No, you’re heading for Elizabeth street, which is the second exit on your left”

“Why did you tell me about the Margaret Street exit if I’m not taking it?!!”

Frank seemed miffed. “I just thought you’d be interested to know where Eagle street Pier was. There’s a nice fish place there called C Food & Eedit. We should go there sometime...”

“Do I take the Elizabeth Street exit?”

“Yes, weren’t you listening earlier?”

“Ok, turning off now”. The white van handled like a dream in the busy city streets, but unfortunately I was in the Red Festiva and it groaned everytime it was asked to react to my actions, like it was some kind of four wheeled sullen teenager.

“Frank, where am I heading?.....Frank?....FRANK!!”

“Steady on, Fangio. I was just checking some information”

“Frank, get off Facebook and help me here. How much time do we have left?”

“You have twelve minutes and thirty seconds, and ….yes!”

“What? Something I need to know??”

“I just scored sixty three points with SPURN on Words with Friends”

“Frank!!”

“Now now, remember Groundhog Day ‘Don’t drive angry’...You are heading to the Myer Centre so you’ll need to turn left at the next set of lights...but proceed with caution as the road conditions change slightly”

“Ok, I have a green light...Frank? Is this a pedestrian Mall? Why are you asking me to drive into a pedestrian mall??”

“It’s a short cut. Proceed with caution”

It was at times like this I wished I had repaired the air conditioning in this car. It was midday on a hot Tuesday in February, and here I was...trying to be inconspicuous in a red hatchback driving through a crowded pedestrian mall. The sweat was pouring off me, and the band of the black baseball cap had long ago admitted that it had one of the crappiest jobs going and had refused to soak one more drop up in protest. Winding the window down wasn’t an option either, not with the mall full of lunchtime office workers who seemed to be taking offense at my attempts to nudge them out of the way. Time was ticking.

“How long now, Frank? And where am I heading to?”

“Ten minutes and thirty seconds...oh did I mention that you are heading to a loading dock on your left?”

“A loading dock! What is a loading dock?!”

An area for delivery vans and trucks, It should be a driveway.”

“Like the one I passed twenty seconds ago? And by the way....I don’t have a van or a truck!!”

“Well back it up then, that a good lad. I’m sure you will blend in.”

“Like I am now, reversing through a crowd in a pedestrian mall....”

Frank rehearsed the next instruction in his head. “Best to treat it like sticking plaster”, he thought, “and just rip into it.”

“Do you have the satchel?”

“What satchel?”

“The large red bag on the back seat”

I checked over my shoulder. Yes, of course there would be a red satchel I knew nothing about on the back seat.

“Why is there a red satchel on the back seat??? And WHY am I just finding out about it now!!?”

“Nine minutes...you can be such a whiney little sproglet sometimes. Always with the questions...Why is there a red satchel on the back seat? Why do I have to drive to the city?? Why cant I walk barefoot in the bathroom?? Just trust me..”

“Last time I trusted you I ended up handing out fake How To Vote cards for the Pheasant Plucker’s Party. I still can’t get that jingle out of my head.”

Frank whooped with laughter, “That’s was classical gas. I’m not a Pheasant Plucker, I’m a Pheasant Plucker’s son, and I’ll keep on plucking Pheasants ‘till the Pheasant plucking’s done”

“Oi Frank! Seriously...where am I heading to now? I’m at the bottom of the driveway!”

“Ooh you said bottom! Hahahahah!!!!”

“Frank!”

“Seven minutes! Alrighty then. Serious from now on. You need to park somewhere on the left hand side of the basement area, grab the satchel and find the service lifts marked 14 & 15.”

On the far wall there was an open landing and a pair of elevators, and just as Frank had described they were marked “14 & 15”. As I waited for the lift to arrive I scoured my mind for a reason for this day unfolding as it has, and the time frame.

Random phone call..not so strange coming from Frank at any hour of the day...going to a vacant lot, finding the car that belonged to Frank’s spiritual advisor (I didn’t even know he had a car) ...the keys hidden behind the mudflaps. “Just stick your hand in the flaps and grope around a bit....” and he had amused himself with that one. Then following vague instructions like “just drive to the city for a bit”..

The ping of the lift arriving snapped me out of the dazed state I was beginning to enjoy, and satchel in one hand, phone in the other, I stepped forward.

“What floor, Frank?”

“Go to the fourth floor and exit to the left”

Specific helpful instructions....about time.

“Four minutes” Frank chimed. I’m glad someone was relaxed.”

The doors of the lift opened and I stepped to the left, which incidentally was the only direction you could go without walking into a wall. I followed the service corridor with what seemed to be a blue marble tiled floor glazed with glitter. This opened out into a vast food hall and cinema complex with an atrium style glass mosaic roof. And it was crowded.

“Three minutes, thirty seconds!” Frank chanted, “come on, I promised you could do this within the time frame”

“Well, where too now?” I waited for a vague and condescending response.

“This is the technical part or the task. head to the left and follow the railing around to amusement arcade. There you will find a door with the numbers 432 on it. Knock three times on the door and a Chinese man will answer. You need to say to him ‘the lamb is cool, chillin in the fridge’. Got that?”

“Yeah, I got that...seriously? Whatever..”

“Three minutes!”

And of course I followed the instructions to the letter, knocked on the door and a sleepy Chinese man in a dirty apron answered, looking blankly at me.

“The lamb is cool, chillin in the fridge.”

He slammed the door shut.

“Frank, what the hell was that about?”

“No time to explain...two minutes. Head towards the cinemas on the far side of the atrium. Start walking and I’ll explain...Do you still have the satchel?”

“Yes, I still have the stinking satchel. I’m heading over but there are slow moving over weight geeks everywhere in sweaty T-shirts..”

“That’s right, Star Wars 3 D is playing. Be careful, don’t stand still and look like a Cheeseburger. It’s after midday and they probably haven’t had breakfast yet.”

I finally made it through the throng of “Biggest Loser” contenders (in more than one context) to the ticket box area.

“Ok, what now?”

“To your left there are two elegant gentlemen seated at a small coffee table. One is laughing hysterically at you, and the other has a laptop and a mobile phone.....”

…........................................................................................................................................................

“OMG Frank, he really is a gullible Numnuts....”

“Yes Coco, I told you he would do it.