Star Jar Jinx

August 26, 2014August 26, 2014 / Steve Lakey / 6 Comments

Photo: © Al Forbes 2014

“Police has asked me to say a few words.

Before I do, I don’t see why I’m taking blame for it. It’s really all our Derek’s fault.

Derek has never been brightest star in galaxy. He knows it. Even Sheila, his Mam knows it, but she won’t hear a word against him. Because, what he lacks in brains, she says, he makes up for in ‘good-natured enthusiasm’.

Fair dues, Derek would do a favour for anybody. He always does as he’s told, and was hardest working Class V Junior Technician on starship Prometheus. They said so. But I doubt he’ll keep his job after this.

I mean, when you’re told to flush a baby Alien creature out of airlock, surely there must be a good reason for it. But no! Too much for him to bear, the soft lad. Now he’s really done it this time.

He secretly brings that creature back home in a glass bottle that wasn’t fit for purpose. I thought it was one of those lava lamps at first. More fool me!

Then Sheila starts screaming! Ahhhhh, she says, Ahhhhhhh! It starts moving and wriggling, it does. Quick as a flash I’ve took it to bathroom and flushed it down WC. I thought that was the end of it. But then Derek finds out and says we have to tell somebody.

Now they’re calling it an environmental hazard. Apparently, if you live anywhere near Mansfield, you’ve got to be very careful when you, you know, go!

So if you’ve got one of these Alien things in your plumbing. Don’t try to tackle it yourself, leave it to the experts. Let Coppers handle it. Thank you!”

This story was prompted by Sunday Photo Fiction, August 24th 2014, hosted by Al Forbes.

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To read the other stories in this challenge, click the Blue Frog!

Pixel Prose Challenge: Operation ‘Match that Garden’

August 24, 2014 / Steve Lakey / 4 Comments

Photos: © Walktheselftalk.com 2014.

Coningshall Parish Council Leader George Sterling turned on the projector and showed the images to a stunned council chamber.

“These images were obtained a few days ago, at great expense, by an undercover operative in Scarsbury.” He was of course referring to himself having taken the pictures in their neighbouring rival town.

“Shocking images, I think you’ll agree. This decorative garden looks the bees knees! They’re just about to unveil it at the height of the tourist-rich summer season, giving us no chance to respond in kind. They’ve even built it right on our border, rubbing our noses in it! So, Ladies and Gentlemen, what do we do?”

After a long silence, a few suggestions filtered in.
“Create our own!” (What, overnight?)
“Ask Scarsbury to go halves with us!” (As if they’d ever agree!)
“Let’s have a Coningshall Air Show!” (We like the sound of this!)

A few heads were nodding at the last suggestion until George pointed out that the lack of an airfield and/or air museum could be a major stumbling block.

Just then then the old-school ring of the Red Phone cut through the chamber. This was not usually a good sign. The phone was the Hot Line from Recently Deceased Solicitor, and Former Council Leader, Peter Kipper.

“My clients, all former Coningshallinans, are not happy. Scarsbury have got one over on us again. George, you’ve got to up your game! I’m working on something from this end, but you’ve got to come up with a response, and sharpish!” The line went very dead.

The meeting broke up and all ten of the councillors adjourned to the Red Lion pub for consolation drinks. The landlord, Reg Lyons (He always answered the phone, “Reg Lyons at the Red Lion!”) was a annoyingly cheerful fellow. But he was a little tight when it came to money matters. He passed round the complimentary drinks to his fellow councillors (one small bottle of out-of-date lemonade or cola per person, maximum.)

Reg spoke up. “I’d be prepared to host a ‘Mice Bucket Challenge’. We could get some mice from the local pet shop. Mind you, we might get some hassle from Animal Rights activists. Still, what’s the worse that could happen?” Not surprisingly, there were no takers.

George was getting a little desperate. “ I’ve got an actor friend, Paddy, who could make the occasional public appearance in town. He once auditioned to be a Dalek in Doctor Who. He didn’t get it though, they said his face didn’t fit.”

Jim Stamp the owner of the Coningshall Gazette spoke for the first time today. “What we need is a bit of controversy to pull the punters in. You know how they found the remains of King Richard lll in a car park? What if we buried a body in the pub car park? Then someone digs it up. It’d make a great headline!” The ideas were beginning to get even more outrageous, when fortunately, a familiar old-school ringtone cut through the conversation.

George pulled out his Red mobile phone and turned on the loudspeaker.

“Hold the front page!” Peter Kipper sounded almost cheerful. Almost. “George, I’ve been doing some digging through title deeds here. It seems that Scarsbury have bungled. Almost all the land they’ve used for the gardens is actually owned by Coningshall. Check your old maps! By rights, Scarsbury will have to give you three quarters of the profits, or sell you the whole thing at a knockdown price. Am I good, or am I good! You owe me one. Good day, George.”

There were cheers all round, apart from Jim Stamp, who still liked the ‘Body in the Car Park’ idea.

Coningshall was to have it’s own Public Garden Paradise! Maybe George’s actor friend, Paddy, could do the official opening?

The photos and story were prompted by the Pixel Post Challenge, hosted by Amanda Lakey at www.UniqueArtChic.com.

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To view the other entries in the challenge, click the Blue Frog.

Pixel Prose Challenge: Tracking Back

August 17, 2014August 19, 2014 / Steve Lakey / 2 Comments

Photo: © Walktheselftalk.com 2014

Brian ‘Buzz’ Oldring, Leader of the Coningshall Parish Council, wasn’t a happy man. Their local rival town, Scarsbury, was steaming ahead economically.

Despite Coningshall benefiting from having a booming Ghost Walk, Scarsbury’s new civic amenities put them at the top of the pecking order. Something needed to be done! A few seconds after those thoughts came to Buzz, the Red Telephone rang.
The Red phone was a specially designed communication interface between himself and recently deceased local solicitor, Peter Kipper.

Peter’s voice came through loud and clear. “As you know, Buzz, I represent the Coninsgshall deceased community. Several of my clients are unhappy at Scarsbury financially outperforming us. We need to get things back on track, so to speak.” “I’m all ears, Mr Kipper!” “I’m forbidden by Deceased Person Regulations from revealing too much. All I can tell you is, you need to spend some time on the ‘wrong’ side of the tracks. Get your man, Kanye, to Conginshall Railway Station!”

Their once-abandoned station had recently been renovated in a retro style, and a few miles of track installed to run old diesel and steam trains out into the countryside. Unfortunately, the tourists weren’t exactly flocking there. Kanye Bell-Eaves, the local Psychic Investigator, had long suspected there was something ‘not quite right’ about the area.

The next day. Kanye bought a ticket and joined a few tourists on an almost empty train. A man who looked a little out of place was Scarsbury Council Treasurer, George Sterling, carrying a heavy briefcase, with a chain attached to his wrist.
As they reached the only destination on the line, the quaint village station at Little Haven, Kanye’s iPhone Paranormal Activity App started flashing crazily, just before his data and phone signal went dead.

The train pulled into the station and everyone dispersed onto the platform. No-one seemed to want to visit the quaint picture-postcard village that was just a short walk down Old Memory Lane. It was almost as if it wasn’t there. Instead, they milled around the Little Haven Station and Museum Complex, before taking the train back to Coningshall.

Not George Sterling. He was heading down the lane with a purpose. Kanye discreetly followed him from a distance. George looked around nervously before heading into the village Bank. Kanye peered through the window and saw George passing over bundles of notes from his case to the cashier.

Kanye took a walk around the village. The detail they had taken, to recreate the late 1960’s was incredible – the cars, the fashions, even the prices! And yet the place was almost deserted. According to the newspapers, it was 1968. There were headlines announcing Robert Kennedy’s funeral, and a story about the Vietnam War.
But wait a minute. Kanye was getting a funny feeling about this. It all seemed too real. What does George Sterling know about it? And what if it really is 1968 here? If you invest money now, how much do you make on it 46 years later! Well done George. No wonder Scarsdale was doing so well.

1968. That explains the lack of mobile phone coverage. There won’t be any for decades!

Just then, George walked by with his briefcase stuffed with Champagne bottles. Kanye grabbed his arm. “Right, George. Tell me everything! I think Buzz Oldring might have an offer for you…”

So, when they got back to Coningshall, Buzz heard the full story. George had walked into Little Haven by chance and realised that the train must travel through a time portal that takes you back to the past! It seems only a few people are sensitive enough to see the village at all.

Months ago, George had found boxes of old-style pound notes in the Scarsbury Council Vault. No longer legal tender. And nobody seemed to know they were there. Using some creative accounting, he re-invested the cash and shared the profits with the council. George was making good money for himself and his employer, but never revealed his big secret. Why would he?

Buzz allowed George to name his own terms, and George was happy to sign up as the next leader of Coningshall Parish Council. On a very generous salary, with extras.
And what of poor old Scarsbury Council? Last I heard, they were having to borrow money from Coningshall. At “special” interest rates of course.

Peter Kipper and his clients were very satisfied indeed.

The photo and story were prompted by Pixel Prose Challenge, hosted by Amanda Lakey at www.UniqueArtChic.com

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For other entries to this challenge, click the Blue Frog!

Pixel Prose Challenge:That’s the Spirit!

August 10, 2014 / Steve Lakey / 6 Comments

The once-popular Coningshall Ghost Walk was slowly dying a death. It felt like the whole village was slipping away with it. But what was to be done?

Every Saturday night for a year, eccentric Psychic Researcher Kanye Bell-Eaves, had lead an ever-growing band of followers around the village, ending at the churchyard. His well-crafted spooky tales were no match for the main attraction – strange noises and ghostly apparitions from the graveyard, as the church clock chimed the Midnight hour.

Every weekend, the local guest houses were full to overflowing, and the two village shops were doing very nicely, thank you very much. One or two visitors had even moved into the area. But then it all started to go wrong.

Without warning, the noises and apparitions stopped.

Kanye worked on his theatrical presentation, but as the numbers dwindled, everyone could see that his heart just wasn’t in it anymore. A Ghost Walk without ghosts? Who needs it? A few more weeks like this and no one would be attending. He’d be finished!

Local Parish Councillor and owner of the Electrical Store, Brian ‘Buzz’ Oldring, was baffled. After all, he was the one who had seen potential for the village in the Ghost Walk. And he supplied the electrical equipment that should be producing the ghostly effects. But nothing seemed to work anymore. He tested the batteries, and even replaced the whole kit. It all worked fine, until he put it in the graveyard.

Buzz hadn’t slept well for some time. He’d just heard the church clock strike midnight, when his bedroom lights started flashing on and off. “Must be that new dimmer switch I fitted!” said Buzz out loud. More to reassure himself than anything.

Then the lights went off and a ghostly figure hovered at his upstairs window! The figure gestured him over! Trembling, Buzz turned on his iPhone Candle app and went to investigate. Well, if it wasn’t the recently deceased local lawyer, Peter Kipper!

“Seems that you’re in a bind, Buzz. My clients feel they’re being misrepresented by these Ghost Walks, and not receiving their due.”
“Y-your clients?” stammered Buzz.
“The ‘Graveyard Residents Association’! Unless things change, your electrical equipment will not work again, I assure you.”
“What sort of changes?” Buzz’s iCandle had gone out, but for some reason, he was feeling a little calmer now.
Kipper gestured towards the churchyard. “Look at the state of the graves. Some of my clients have been there for centuries, and no one seems to care about them anymore, unless they’re making a fast buck!”
“So what’s you’re proposal, Mr Kipper?”
“My clients are happy for the Ghost Walks to continue, and will even provide all noises and apparitions. For ten percent of the profits! A very reasonable offer, in my opinion.”
“And what will they do with the ten percent?”
“They would like the ten percent to be spent on maintenance of the graveyard. Make it somewhere that you’d be happy to spend your final years, as it were. Do we have a deal?”
“I’ll have to okay it with Kanye, but I don’t see him objecting. I won’t mention this to the Parish Council. It might ruffle a few feathers!”

And so it was, that the Ghost Walks became more popular than ever. If anything, the spooky effects seemed even more real. And the Coningshall churchyard became the pride of a prosperous village.

Kanye thought ten percent seemed a fair price to pay.

Story and photo are prompted by the Pixel Prose Challenge, hosted by Amanda Lakey at www.UniqueArtChic.com.

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To view the other posts in this challenge, click the blue frog!

Pixel Prose Challenge: Give a Man a Fish…

August 3, 2014August 3, 2014 / Steve Lakey / 2 Comments

Photo: Ajuy, Fuerteventura 2014.

LOCAL FISHERMAN BETWEEN ROQUE AND A HARD PLACE

Self employed fisherman José Roque (49) has become a local celebrity in the Canary Islands. The little seaside town of Ajuy, Fuerteventura has seen tourists flocking to see the lifetime resident, who has apparently been turned to stone as a result of a misunderstanding with a mythological Roman god.

A passer-by said “You’ve gotta feel sorry for the guy, being like that. Even the fish looks gutted.”

Gravel-voiced Señor Roque told reporter Sandy Beach, “I’d just landed a big catch and unloaded my boat then this weird guy comes out of the water driving a 2 horsepower jet ski. He’s got a long beard, and carrying a spear gun. I thought he was from the Neptune Diving School. And then he said wanted half my catch as a tribute.”
“I’m guessing, José say no way?”
“Too true. It turns out he was the real Neptune, and then he turned me to stone. I’ve got a lump in my throat, just talking about it”
“How could you have mythed it, right? I’m guessing that you’d Sea things differently if you had the chance again?”
“Oh no, things have worked out okay. I’ve sold the boat and bought the Neptune Fish Bar. With all the tourists here, the place is really rocking!”

A spokesman for Neptune said that he wasn’t a bad Deity, he’d just had a bad day. He would be happy to return José to normal, or send him a signed photo.

Photo taken with iPhone 4S. Story and photo for the Pixel Prose Challenge, hosted by Amanda Lakey at www.UniqueArtChic.com. Click the logo for more details.

To view other entries in the Challenge, click the blue frog.