The lamp’s yours now, friend, but be warned: Not all Genies grant wishes.
Some do, to be sure, some make your dreams come true.
But some Genies, mad from centuries’ solitude, ignore requests. These Genies would delight in making you pay for each moment they’ve spent imprisoned, heedless of your blamelessness.
Some Genies have the power to burn the world, and the rage to want it burned.
I don’t know what Genie’s in this lamp, in all the years I’ve owned it I’ve feared to find out.
But now it’s yours. Rub it. Do not. It’s no concern of mine.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
My Satellite (as recorded on the Dribblecast)
...and i'm back up on the dribblecast, ch-ch-ch-ch-check-ch-check it out! also: if you're not subscribing to it already, why not?
http://dribblecast.posterous.com/fw-my-satellite-by-munsi-0
http://dribblecast.posterous.com/fw-my-satellite-by-munsi-0
The Queen
The Queen touched down in Halifax to celebrate the anniversary of our navy, and I was there.
It’d taken doings to secure my place in the crowd, but I’d made it happen.
As she took the stage to speak, from the back of the room, I screamed: “Sing Fat Bottomed Girls!”
The room went silent. The crowd weren’t amused.
Security moved through the crowd toward me, and I feared for my safety until the Queen, the very picture of dignity and class, stepped up to the mic, and did the unexpected.
She sang Fat Bottomed Girls.
And f*cking rocked it.
It’d taken doings to secure my place in the crowd, but I’d made it happen.
As she took the stage to speak, from the back of the room, I screamed: “Sing Fat Bottomed Girls!”
The room went silent. The crowd weren’t amused.
Security moved through the crowd toward me, and I feared for my safety until the Queen, the very picture of dignity and class, stepped up to the mic, and did the unexpected.
She sang Fat Bottomed Girls.
And f*cking rocked it.
The Button (for Norm)
Each time I click, my free will vanishes.
I know it, but I can’t stop. There isn’t enough of myself left to stop. My mind, body and soul are promised to a man called Norm.
I hear and obey, I can’t do otherwise. And I know I’m not alone.
There’s an army of us now, clicking the button. None of us knows why he took our will, none know what he’ll do with us. But our loyalty’s unmistakable.
In the back of my mind, what’s left of me screams, unheeded.
Why, oh why, did I click the button labelled “submit”?
I know it, but I can’t stop. There isn’t enough of myself left to stop. My mind, body and soul are promised to a man called Norm.
I hear and obey, I can’t do otherwise. And I know I’m not alone.
There’s an army of us now, clicking the button. None of us knows why he took our will, none know what he’ll do with us. But our loyalty’s unmistakable.
In the back of my mind, what’s left of me screams, unheeded.
Why, oh why, did I click the button labelled “submit”?
Sunday, June 27, 2010
My Satellite
Above the city, my satellite comes to life. Finally, I’ve found my remote.
From safely in my control room, I load the target co-ordinates, focus my laser, and fire!
Benjamin Johnston, a forty-one year old bespectacled accountant, is walking from the sandwich store in which he habitually eats his lunch back to his office. He’s in the right place at the right time.
He catches, somewhere above him, a glint of light. Confused, he glances skyward.
And is hit with a face full of laser!
Benjamin Johnston now has perfect, 20/20 vision.
And he’ll never even know who to thank.
From safely in my control room, I load the target co-ordinates, focus my laser, and fire!
Benjamin Johnston, a forty-one year old bespectacled accountant, is walking from the sandwich store in which he habitually eats his lunch back to his office. He’s in the right place at the right time.
He catches, somewhere above him, a glint of light. Confused, he glances skyward.
And is hit with a face full of laser!
Benjamin Johnston now has perfect, 20/20 vision.
And he’ll never even know who to thank.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
The Monkeys (as appearing on the Dribblecast)
i'm appearing on the dribblecast once more! download the podcast, subscribe to it, hear my story and comment on it. comment here if that's what you feel. it's a great read, i think, and she pronounced "Munsi" correctly! enjoy
http://dribblecast.posterous.com/monkeys-173
http://dribblecast.posterous.com/monkeys-173
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Monsters
“Daddy! I can’t go sleep, a monster’s in my closet!”
“Daniel, you’re too old to believe in monsters.”
“There is! I saw him!”
“You know perfectly well that there’s nothing in your closet. I’ve checked dozens of times, I’m not humouring you about it again. Daddy’s tired, he’s had a long day, and he’s not telling you again. Go. To. Sleep.”
He slammed the door behind him. In the morning he’d feel guilty, but tonight he was in no mood. Daniel drew the covers over him, trying not to cry.
…and from the closet, hunting knife in hand, I crept.
“Daniel, you’re too old to believe in monsters.”
“There is! I saw him!”
“You know perfectly well that there’s nothing in your closet. I’ve checked dozens of times, I’m not humouring you about it again. Daddy’s tired, he’s had a long day, and he’s not telling you again. Go. To. Sleep.”
He slammed the door behind him. In the morning he’d feel guilty, but tonight he was in no mood. Daniel drew the covers over him, trying not to cry.
…and from the closet, hunting knife in hand, I crept.
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