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Okay, yesterday was pretty weird.
And it was all because of Irishfest.

Irishfest is this thing that happens in Dallas every Spring.

Me and Mo get on the train to meet Robin at Victory station.

But before that we were at Starbucks.
I texted Robin a Haiku poem

On the train, I texted her a second one, just to pass the time.

She texted me back, saying,
"Write me a sex scene about Irishfest."

So, being the attention whore that I am,
I gladly set myself to the task.

I composed a series of erotic haiku poems about Erin, a lonely Irish lass.

Who boards the Dart train once a year, seeking one true love.

It was a surprisingly fun way to tell a story.
The haiku scheme is five-seven five unrhymed.

So you have to be spare with your words.
Long stretches of dialog are right out.

I recommend haiku poetry to anybody stuck as free verse does free the mind.

Blog KenGreen

I think I may have accidentally wrote a decent story. Either that, or it's more stupid sentimental crap. You decide.

How do you screw up a first contact with your own species? Read and find out.

FERAL
By Ken Green
Girl could hear her heart pound in her ears. The bug-things had found her nest, and were tearing it apart. Hateful dad-sized bug-things pawing her stuff, and all she could was watch from her hidey place. There were four of them, all bigger than her, and they had things she knew to be weapons. Why were they here? She had no food in her nest, what did they want?
Make no sound, be quiet like a bunny, wait till they go. Girl is smarter than bug-things, wait till they go…
The big one found Bearbear, was holding him to show the others.
“No!” Girl screamed, as she charged from the hidey, drawing her knife. The point skidded on the bug-things hard skin, but found a soft spot and lodged there. The bug-thing recoiled and howled its pain as Girl reached for Bearbear The bug-thing dropped Bearbear. Girl hugged him to her chest, and turned to run.
Right into the bug-things fist. She saw stars, and then she saw nothing.
#
“Captain,” Larson said, “When you file your report…”
“Larson, my report will reflect the fact that you punched a twelve-year-old girl in the face.” Captain Wassim chuckled.
“And every time he says it, it just gets funnier!” Vasquez laughed, leaned back in her chair, and put her boots on the galley table. The DeVaca was a scout ship, and discipline was pretty slack. And Vasquez could get away with murder, because she was banging the captain. You can’t keep secrets on a spaceship, so why try?
“An armed twelve-year-old girl,” Larson pointed out, “I want the record to reflect that.”
“Oh, please, Larson,” Vasquez countered, “You were wearing armor. She didn’t even hurt you.”
“I’m hurt!” he said, pointing at the synthskin patch, “I’m wounded.”
“That’s true,” Doctor Casey chimed in, “Lieutenant Larson suffered a very superficial wound. My report will reflect that.”
“Yeah, well, it still hurt like a…”
“Shut up, Larson,” Capt. Wassim said, “There are bigger issues here than your wounded pride. How is she, Doc?”
Doc Casey put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Larson gave her a concussion and a broken nose. Neither condition is life threatening, and both are repairable. I’ve got a cold cap on her, so she’s still unconscious, but I can’t leave her like that much longer She needs treatment for her injuries, and chronic malnutrition.”
“Are there any ethical concerns we need to discuss?” Cap asked.
Doc shook his head. “As far as we know, she’s a Codominion citizen. She’s entitled to the best treatment we can offer. In the absence of parents or legal guardians, we have to take responsibility for her.”
“Then you’d better get started.” Cap said.
“Yes, sir,” Doc turned to Vasquez, “Can I ask you to assist?”
“Why do you want me to do it?” Vasquez asked.
“Well,” Doc said, “She’s a young girl, and you’re a woman…”
“That,” Vasquez pointed an accusing finger at Doc, “Is just sexist.”
“Should I ask Larson instead?” Doc asked.
“Oh, hell, I’ll do it,” Vasquez complained, “He’d probably just hit her again.”
#
Light coming back. Breathing sounds. Weird smells. Nose hurts. Girl swam back up to consciousness. Light hurt her eyes. Panic. Where was she? Too bright white hard place, where did forest go?
Man’s voice. “Garble garble garble hurt you…”
Girl screamed, jumped down from exam table, tried to run. Woman grab girl.
“Garble Garble stop garble!” Woman yell. “Garble garble help garble garble!”
Girl hit! Girl bite! Girl break free, find hidey space!
Pain in back. World all swimmy. Sleepy now.
#
Back in the galley, Captain said, “Explain to me why two naval officers, and alleged adults, can’t manage one little girl.”
Vasquez glared at Cap and picked at the synthskin patch on her shoulder.
“I don’t know what to do,” Doc said, “I can’t keep sedating her, but I’m afraid she’ll injure herself if I don’t. She needs a neurologist.”
Cap glanced at his datapad. “We’re three days to jump point, and then five to Bethesda Station. Can you keep her cold that long?”
Doc shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. For all we know, she could already have developmental issues. I’m not going to risk making them worse.”
“So what do we do, put restraints on her and wake her up?” Cap asked.
“That’s the best solution I can offer.” Doc said.
“Waking up in restraints,” Vasquez said, shaking her head, “That’s going to be terrifying for her.”
“Yeah,” Doc said, “But it’s the best we can do. Do we know how long she’s been isolated?”
“We don’t even know who she is,” Cap said, “Larson collected her possessions, what few she had. I figure somebody at Bethesda can forensic them, figure something out.”
“Can we give her a name, at least a temporary one?” Vasquez asked, “I’m tired of calling her ‘She’ all the time.”
“Well,” Doc said, “We can call her ‘Eve’ since she’s the first woman we found on a primitive planet.”
“That’s stupid,” Vasquez said, “Eve wasn’t the first woman, you goyim.”
Cap and Doc both said, “Huh?”
“Lilith was the first woman. She left Adam when she got tired of putting up with his crap, and then God made Eve.” Vasquez explained, “And then she got left out of the bible when your people hijacked my religion.”
Cap and Doc both said, “Huh?”
“Besides,” Vasquez said, “Eve was stupid. Eve was a victim.” Vasquez pointed at her shoulder, “My girl is a fighter. A rebel. She’s nobody’s bitch. We’re calling her Lilith, and that’s final.”
#
Doc loaded the injector. “This will bring her around.”
“Wait.” Vasquez said, “Enviro controls. Reduce light to fifteen percent.”
The lights dimmed. She pulled a stool to the exam bed. “Let’s see if we can start doing things right. We’ve screwed up enough already.” She sat down and started stroking the sleeping girl’s hair. “Okay, Doc, we’re ready,” she whispered.
Doc checked the restraints, and injected Lilith’s arm.
Soon, her brow furrowed, and she grew restless. Her eyes opened. She tried to move, and couldn’t. She screamed, and started thrashing.
Doc approached with another injector. Vasquez waved him off.
Keeping hands away from Lilith’s teeth, Vasquez stroked the girl’s hair. Lilith screamed and screamed and thrashed and thrashed.
“Can’t you shut her up?” Larson shouted from his duty station. It was a small ship, and her screams filled the hull.
“You shut up, Larson,” Vasquez shouted back, “She just needs to wear herself out!” She turned back to Lilith, “That’s right, girl, let it out,” she cooed, stroking her hair, “Let it all out.”
Lilith screamed till she was hoarse, and thrashed till she was exhausted. Her screams turned to sobs as she surrendered to the restraints. She lay there and cried. Cried so long, she got Vasquez started.
“I’m sorry, baby girl,” Vasquez whispered, “Sorry it has to be this way, baby.”
Lilith turned her head. “Baby?”, then, “Mamma? No.” It was an accusation, “Not mamma! Mamma gone.” More tears.
“No,” Vasquez whispered, “Not Mamma. Vasquez,” she pointed at herself, “Vasquez.”
“Bearbear.” Lilith said, “Where Bearbear? What do Bearbear?”
“Bearbear?” Vasquez turned to Doc, “What’s a Bearbear?”
“Damned if I know…Oh, of course. Artifact three.” He turned, opened a drawer, and pulled out a polybag with a strange object in it.
“Bearbear!” Lilith called out, “Give Bearbear!” It was not a request.
“But,” Doc said, “I need to sanitize it…”
“Give her the goddamn Bearbear, you idiot!” Vasquez screamed.
Wishing to keep his balls, Doc tossed the bag to Vasquez. Vasquez ripped the bag open, said, “Look, Baby. Bearbear.” Big smile, then frown, “Oh, God. Bearbear stinks.”
“Give Bearbear?” Lilith begged.
Still staying clear of Lilith’s teeth, Vasquez tucked Bearbear under Lilith’s arm.
Lilith tugged at her restraints.
“Want Bearbear,” Lilith’s eyes started tearing up again, “Please.”
Vasquez took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m going to trust you. You get one hand. If you try to bite me, I will slap the [crap] out of you. Deal?”
Lilith blinked her total incomprehension.
“Deal.” Vasquez stood up, reached for the restraint.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Doc asked.
“Shut up, Doc,” Vasquez said, “We can’t keep her this way. She’s not an animal.”
Vasquez undid the restraint, and stepped back.
Lilith hugged Bearbear as best she could onehanded.
“You’re doing great, kid.” Vasquez said, walking around the bed to the other restraint.
“What are you…” Doc asked.
“If we want her to trust us, we need to trust her.” Vasquez said, “Besides, we just gave her something she wanted. She’ll behave now.” She bent down to undo the other wrist.
Lilith hugged Bearbear properly, and the two of them had a nice little conversation.
#
“Show everybody what you’ve learned, Lilith.” They were all seated at the galley table. Vasquez was beaming, as proud as if she had given birth to the girl.
Lilith pointed at Wassim. “Captain,” she said.
“Very good.” Vasquez said.
Lilith pointed at Vasquez. “Vasquez.”
“Yes.” Vasquez said.
Lilith pointed at Doc. “Doctor.”
“You’re doing so good!” Vasquez said.
Lilith pointed at Larson. “Asshole.”
“Such a good girl.” Vasquez said.
End

Okay, that's this week's story, good or bad. Now I'm wondering what I will do for the next six days. I guess I could tell you the story of lonely Erin, who boards the Green line train once a year, looking for love or whatever. I wrote it as a series of haikus. Do you like poetry?

KenGreen Blog Blogs Member Public

I keep adding more ending to 'Feral'. Apparently, I have no idea how to end a story. Here's the ending of the extended version:

Later, in Wassim’s bunk:
“What’s going to happen to her?” Vasquez asked.
Wassim put his hands behind his head. “We’re in bed, and you want to talk about the kid. When the hell did I marry you, Vasquez?”
She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand. “I want to talk about this.”
He stared at the ceiling. “Oh, for God’s sake. Bethesda medical will check her out, and Intersec will try to I.D. Her. If they can’t, Bethesda will turn her over to the civilian government on Calliope. She’ll probably go into foster care or something.”
“Or something?” Vasquez asked, “What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t know.” Wassim said, “What difference does it make? As soon as we set down on Bethesda, she won’t be our problem anymore.”
“Maybe I want her to be our problem.” Vasquez said.
Wassim rolled onto his side, propped hid head on his hand. “What?”
“Can’t we just…keep her?” Vasquez asked.
“No, Vasquez, we can’t. She’s not a cat.” He rolled onto his back, “Enviro control, lights out.” They were in darkness.
“Wass… ” Vasquez started to say.
“Shut up, Vasquez. I want to sleep now.”
“Well, I don’t,” she said. She ran her fingers through the hairs on his chest.
“Wass, do you love me?” she asked.
“What?” he asked, “Why are you asking me that?”
“Well?” she asked, “Do you?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. I love you.” He rolled away from her. Soon he was snoring.
“That’s great, Wass,” she said, “I whatever you too.” She lay in the darkness, listening to her lover, or whatever he was, breath. Do I love anybody? Have I ever?
She slipped out of Wassim’s bed and left his stateroom. Crossing to the infirmary, she found Lilith sleeping on the exam table, Bearbear clutched in her arms. She pulled the stool over to the bed, and reached out to pet the girl’s back. What am I doing? She’ll be gone in a few days, why the hell am I crying?
As she sat there and cried, Lilith rolled over to face her.
“Don’t be sad, Mommy,” Lilith said, still asleep.
Vasquez leaned forward put her arms around the girl. What are you doing? You don’t hug. When’s the last time you hugged anybody? A week ago, you didn’t know this girl existed. Now, you don’t know… anything.
She heard footsteps. Larson loomed into her view.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“What do you want, Larson?” Vasquez asked.
“Nothing.” Larson said, “I’m on watch. I’m doing the security sweep. I made tea. Do you want some?”
“No, thanks.” She said.
Larson turned to walk away.
“Larson, wait,” she said, “I’ve been a real bitch to you, haven’t I?”
He stood there, thought about it, “Yeah,” he nodded, “You really have.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “For all of it.”
“Yeah, okay.” Larson wandered off.
She watched Larson walk away, then turned back to Lilith.
“We should have left you there,” She whispered, “Right where we found you. At least that was a jungle you understood.”
Lilith shifted in her sleep, rested her head on Vasquez’s arm. “Love Mommy,” she murmured.
Vasquez cried herself to sleep.
End
Everything I write has crying in it. I must be mental.Oh well, maybe it's something I need to work through.

Page 5 Blog KenGreen

Okay, I admit it. I'm sentimental. I can't stand the sad, boo-hoo ending I gave 'Feral' yesterday. I can't leave Vasquez with a broken heart. Because it hurts. And I don't care if it's not smart or not literary. I like happy endings. So here's the new final ending. Now Vasquez can get on with her life, and maybe I can get on with mine.
Later, in Wassim’s bunk:
“What’s going to happen to her?” Vasquez asked.
Wassim put his hands behind his head. “We’re in bed, and you want to talk about the kid. When the hell did I marry you, Vasquez?”
She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand. “I want to talk about this.”
He stared at the ceiling. “Oh, for God’s sake. Bethesda medical will check her out, and turn her over to the civilian government on Calliope. She’ll probably go into foster care or something.”
“Or something?” Vasquez asked, “What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t know.” Wassim said, “What difference does it make? As soon as we set down on Bethesda, she won’t be our problem anymore.”
“Will they be nice to her? Do you think they’ll be nice?” Vasquez said.
Wassim rolled onto his side, propped hid head on his hand. “What? Who the hell cares?”
“Can’t we just…keep her?” Vasquez asked, “Maybe just a little while?”
“No, Vasquez, we can’t. She’s not a cat.” He rolled onto his back, “Enviro control, lights out.” They were in darkness.
“Wass… ” Vasquez started to say.
“Shut up, Vasquez. I want to sleep now.”
“Well, I don’t,” she said. She ran her fingers through the hairs on his chest.
“Wass, do you love me?” she asked.
“What?” he asked, “Why are you asking me that?”
“Well?” she asked, “Do you? Even a little?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. I love you. Go to sleep.” He rolled away from her.
“That’s great, Wass,” she said, “I whatever you too.” She lay in the darkness, listening to her lover, or whatever he was, snore. Do I love him? Did I ever love him? Have I ever loved anybody?
She slipped out of Wassim’s bunk and under the privacy curtain. Crossing to the infirmary, she found Lilith sleeping on the exam table, Bearbear clutched in her arms. She pulled the stool over to the bed, and reached out to pet the girl’s back. What am I doing? She’ll be gone in a few days, why the hell am I crying? Look at her. She’s so tiny. She’s so tiny, and so alone, and none of this is fair.
As she sat there and cried, Lilith rolled over to face her. Bearbear dropped to the floor.
“Don’t be sad, Mommy,” Lilith said, still asleep.
Vasquez leaned forward, scooped the girl up in her arms. No. Not Mommy. Vasquez. I’m a mean, sexy, smart-ass bitch. I don’t know how to be a mommy.
She heard footsteps. Larson loomed into her view.
“What are you doing up?” he asked.
“What do you want, Larson?” Vasquez asked, still holding Lilith.
“Nothing.” Larson said, “I’m on watch. I’m doing the security sweep. I made tea. Do you want some?”
“No, thanks,” she said.
Larson turned to walk away.
“Larson, wait,” she said, “I’ve been a real bitch to you, haven’t I?”
He stood there, thought about it, “Yeah,” he nodded, “You really have.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “For all of it.”
“Yeah, okay.” Larson wandered off.
She watched Larson walk away, then turned back to Lilith.
“We should have left you there,” She whispered, “Right where we found you. At least that was a jungle you understood. You were better off than I am.”
Lilith shifted in her sleep, rested her head on Vasquez’s shoulder. “Love Mommy,” she murmured.
I’m not your damned mommy. I don’t know anything.
#
Five days later. Bethesda Station, 16:00 hours:
“Hold this.” Vasquez handed Lilith a box of stuff. They were clearing out her bunk.
“What the hell is this?” Captain Wassim demanded, holding out a datapad.
“Language, Captain.” Lilith said. She was learning so fast!
“That’s right, Cap.” Vasquez said, “Watch your mouth. There’s young lady present. That’s your notification of personnel transfer.”
“You’re leaving me?” Wassim asked.
“Yeah. And after your heartfelt profession of love. I must be a real heartless bitch.”
“Language, Vasquez.” Lilith said, enjoying this new game.
“That’s right, Sweetie. That’s one for the swear jar. Remind me to get a swear jar.”
“Why are you doing this?” Wassim asked.
“I learned something today.” Lilith said, “Groundside naval personnel can become foster parents, and even adopt, in some cases, if they get special authorization. There was a court case or something.”
“Really.” Wassim said, “And how would you get…”
“Oh, it wasn’t easy,” Vasquez assured him, “I had to work my way up the chain of command. To be honest, I’m kind of sore right now. But my baby’s worth it.”
“I’m not a baby.” Lilith protested.
“No, you aren’t,” Vasquez cooed, “You’re my clever, clever girl.” She straightened the sheet on the bunk. “Let’s go, Lilith. There isn’t anything else we need here.”
She took Lilith’s hand, and they walked through the open airlock, out into the sunlight.
End.

Blog KenGreen

And today, I bring you a topless girl fighting an alligator. Because I love you that much. Seriously, who takes care of you the way I do?
An arm’s length below her, Old Belial swam, dreaming his ancient dreams. She held a long breath as he passed under. As big as a schooner and stronger than temptation, he could flip her small boat with a gesture. Then she’d be a nice snack for one of his cronies. She squinched her eyes closed, bit a knuckle, and damn near peed her kilt, but he was deep in his dream and took no notice of her. The boat rocked, and he was gone. She sat back up and shook her head. Best not stay too long in a gator’s mind, lest she be seduced and forget she’s a girl. Gators are tricky like that.
Widow’s Cove, then. Belial’s kingdom. Damn kids near to murdered her, just to have a laugh. Townies.
Grabbing her push stick, she stood. No time to tarry. You’re in the devil’s dining room, girl. Best leave before breakfast is served.
Dreading to do it, she dipped her push stick into the water. Ready to push off, but push off to where? She had no bearings. Which way was she pointed? She listened to the sky, and it offered no help. If stars had thoughts, they held them close. Stuck-up stars, screw the lot of them and their mothers, if stars had mothers. Who knows such things?
Her peepers were no help either. For sure, this night was darker than the vicar’s heart.
She heard a splash to starboard. Blind Geryon had found a sleeping duck, and crawled up on the muddy bank to enjoy his meal. Think, think, think. Widow’s cove. Which bank is muddy? The north one. So I’m facing west. As good a bearing as any. Let’s go girl. You might get out of here alive.
She pushed off, and poled slowly, listening for minds. Abraxas lie ahead, and she had to steer around him. Ilbis surfaced to port, and hissed at her. She picked up the pace. She’d overstayed her welcome.
The front lifted as the boat slammed into Orcus. She heard him thrash, and felt his breath. Blindly, she swung the barge pole.
“No, gator! Bad gator!” she yelled to the darkness. The pole hit something, maybe his snooter. He rammed the boat, and it neared to tilt over, But Halfchance shifted her weight and lifted the pole over her head. All or nothing now, strike true or go swimming. Do you want to be a gator’s slut?
She spun the stick and brought it down hard. The shock went up her arms, and she staggered. She heard a hiss and splash. Orcus sulked off.
“That’s right, you bastards!” she called out. “There’s plenty more where that came from! Who’s feeling brave now?”
In the distance, Belial roared.
“Maybe,” Halfchance whispered, “But not this night.”

And tomorrow, more hot, hot Halfchance action. Unless I wind up doing something else. Who knows?

KenGreen Blog

And now, Halfchance gets introspective, or something.

The water settled. She glanced at her reflection, then leaned forward to peer into her eyes. The brown and the blue. Caine had his mark, and she had hers.
“Everybody knows what Caine did, but how did I offend thee?” she asked the sky, “How can I repent if I don’t know my sin?” True to form, the sky had no answers. Might as well ask Belial.
It don’t nearly seem fair. Most folks get born with just one sin, why must I carry two? And this hair. Red as the fire I’ll burn in forever. It looks like a rat’s nest. I should be charging rent.
“What are you looking at?” her reflection asked her.
“That’s a question I ain’t puzzled out yet.” She said.
“I see a girl, plain as day.”
“Do you think a blind man might love us?” she asked.
“Only if he was deaf as well, so as not to hear your braying voice.”
“Deaf and blind. How will he find us, then?”
“He’ll follow his nose. You stink to high heaven, you know.”
They both threw their heads back and laughed at that.
“So, no lovers for us, then?”
“Just the ones on the ends of your wrists.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Nasty thing! Shame on you!”
Water Chance just laughed.
“Still, it must be nice to be loved.” She said.
“Mayhaps it is. We’ll never know.”
“Oh, don’t be so gloomy. Don’t be in your moods.”
Water Chance shrugged. “We’re a woman now. We change with the moon.”
“Are we truly women? How old are we now?”
Water chance pondered. “Three handfuls, I think, give or take a few summers.”
She tried counting them out, but kept running out of hands. She wound up standing on one foot.
“Fifteen?” she asked, “Are you sure about that?”
Her reflection sighed. “Tonight, when you say your prayers, thank the good lord for making you pretty.”
“I shall, as soon as he gets around to it.”
“Well, he sent us the curse, maybe a blessing will follow.”
Chance frowned. “I wish not to speak of the mysteries. This game was more fun before you got hairy and weird.”
“I didn’t ask to. Time is the tide that sweeps us along. It asks not where we wish to stray.”
“The tide. The tide!” she gasped, “I must soon away.”
“Well, go if you must. But before you do…”
“Yes, my love?” she asked.
“Put a damn top on, you wee godless heathen. The sun is up, and Jesus might be looking.”
“Oh!” her hands shot to her chest to cover her meager assets. She used her foot to open the gunny box, and bent down to dig through it. She found her chemise, and, with a quick glance towards heaven, slipped it on.
“Better now?” she asked her reflection.
“You wear a whore’s castoff. Have you no pride?”
“I am a whore’s castoff. Why should I be proud? Besides, it’s silk. I’ll never have finer.”
“It’s too big for you.”
“Darla’s a big girl. It’s pretty. And it smells good.” She pulled the cloth up to her nose. It still smelled like her perfume. Well, the clean parts did…
“Well, you’d best get going then.”
Halfchance plunged her pushstick into the water and dispelled her reflection.

[I] So there's your daily dose of weirdness. Darla wrote a nice poem last night, I might let you see it tomorrow. Or I might do something else. Only time will tell.

KenGreen Blog - Page 5

Okay, it's Saturday, which means I need to get serious about hammering out a new story story for next week. And I don't have a clue in the world as to what it will be. But for now, here's something Darla wrote for Olivia, but will never show her. And I have to tell you, it feels pretty weird when the people in my head start writing poetry at each other.
In Our Room

The doors are all locked,
The guests have all gone.
It’s just you and me, girl
You’re mine until dawn.

The tables all wiped,
The floor has been swept
I can’t count the hours
Since last time we slept

We cast off our aprons
And climb up the stairs
We enter the chamber
That’s waiting up there

You strike up a candle
It casts a warm light
Your sly grin informs me
We’re not sleeping this night

You undo the ribbon
And let down my hair
I gaze into your eyes
And see your love there
 

I sit at the mirror
You brush out each lock
My heart is now pounding,
A too-noisy clock

I turn to face you,
You stand before me
Your lips say “My darling,
Do you like what you see?”

“You’re a bit overdressed
For what’s in my head.
We can’t have you wearing
That dress in our bed”

“Well, you’d better get busy
If you wish to see skin.
This dress is the wrapping,
The prize lies within”

With hands now too eager
I undo your laces
The mirror reflects
The lust on our faces.
 

Linen and cotton
Now fall to the floor
With each garment removed
I’m wanting you more

So quickly I strip you
And you do the same
Our bodies both glow
In the light of the flame

I blow out the candle
You lead me to bed
My passion is howling
It begs to be fed

I pull back the sheets
And soon we’re entwined
With kisses you tell me
What you have in mind

“I love you so much”
You manage to say then you fall asleep.
It’s been a long day.

Do you like this sort of thing? I think it's adorable, but I might be biased. I'll have some prose you you tomorrow. I promise not to make this a poetry blog. See you in 24. Love you guys.

KenGreen Blog Public Member Blogs - Page 5

Here's a new first for me. I've actually written a complete story in a day. It's not a good story, in fact it's completely stupid, but it's probably the best plotted thing I've ever done. And yeah, I'm sure a real writer could crap out something better in about fifteen minutes, but I'm calling this a victory.

This is not a sequel, but it does take place after "Feral".

FAMINE
By Ken Green
“This…” Doc said, staring in disbelief, surveying the damage, “Is a problem.”
It was. It truly was. All the grow trays, from the floor to the galley ceiling, were affected. The romaine lettuce, the neokale, the blueberries, the ship’s entire food supply was being devoured by tiny green cava beetles.
“Where did they come from?” Captain Wassim asked, “How did these…bugs get on my ship?”
“I have no idea,” Doc said. “Oh. Of course.”
“What?” Cap asked.
“Our last stop before we made the jump. Tellurious I. The agro planet, where we refueled.”
“Yeah, so?” Cap asked, “We just set down at the starport. It’s not like we went exploring.”
“No,” Doc said, “But Larson did. He hopped a groundbus and went to the farmer’s market.”
“What’s a farmer’s…”
“And he came back with a bag of peaches.” Doc pointed at the food prep counter. Sure enough, there was a synthpaper bag of peaches. Well, the remains of peaches. Cave beetles love eating fruit.
“Larson!” Cap roared, “Get in here!” Cap had been cranky ever since Vasquez had left. He wasn’t getting laid anymore.
“Huh?” Larson stumbled into the galley, yawning. He had been up for two straight watches. With Vasquez gone, the crew was down to three members. The DeVaca was a five-man scout ship. Just sayin…
“Oh, man, this is bad…” Larson said.
“Bad?” Cap asked, “Yeah, maybe you’re right. We’re fourteen days from our next possible resupply, and we have no food. Yeah, Larson, I think you’re right. This is bad.”
“Is all the food gone?” Larson asked, “What about the algae tank? Or the cultured meat vat?”
The algae tank was full of drowned beetles. The cultured meat vat was crawling with beetles happily burrowing through the disgusting pink meat paste, an insectile food orgy.
“What about cold storage?” Doc went to the fridge, opened it up. “A small jar of olives, halve a jar of cocktail sauce, a container of moldy chili, and a stick of butter.” Doc said, “That’s the entire inventory. This isn’t a spaceship, it’s a bachelor pad.”
“How did you let our food stock get so low?” Wassim asked.
“Vasquez was in charge of…”
“How many times do I have to remind you?” Cap asked. “We do not say that name on this ship.”
“Get over it, Cap.” Doc said, “We all miss her.”
“I do not miss her!” Cap yelled.
“No,” Doc said, “You just miss the parts of her you had a use for.”
“I’m starting to miss her…” Larson said.
“Argh!” Cap pointed at Larson, “You caused this mess, you can fix it!” he turned to Doc, “And you, can help him, because you’re pissing me off! I’ll be in the bridge!” he stormed off.
“Wow,” Larson said, “He lost the use of one vagina, and he grew a new one.”
“Yeah, he’s going to be insufferable. But we have a bigger problem.”
“Yeah, what are we going to do?”
Doc considered. “Logically, the first step is to prevent further damage. We need to kill the beetles. How do we do that?”
“That’s easy. The engine room is on the other side of that bulkhead. All I have to do is unscrew the radiation shield on the fusion unit. We can flood the galley with radiation. Problem solved.”
“Good idea,” Doc said, “Insects are highly resistant to radiation. Any dose lethal to them will sterilize what’s left of these plants. But we won’t care. Because we’ll be dead.”
“Okay,” Larson said, “So we’ll call that ‘Plan B’. Can you whip some kind of poison with the medical supplies?”
“Sure. I can mix up an aerosol toxin and fumigate the ship.” Doc said.
“That sounds good,” Larson said, “Let’s do that.”
“Yeah. Let’s introduce poison into our closed cycle air system. I’ll get right on that.”
“Sarcasm is the language of pain, Doc.” Larson pointed out, “Not very helpful. Wait! Doesn’t the air cycler filter out impurities?”
“It’s not designed to handle pesticides. Why would it be? What kind of idiot would smuggle insects onto a naval vessel?
“Why are you being so pissy? Was Vasquez banging you, too?”
“No, Larson, I’m being pissy because you may have killed us, and I resent that sort of thing.” Doc said.
“We’re not dead yet, Doc. Don’t give up so easily.” Larson thought about it. “I’ve got it!” he exclaimed.
“Oh.” Doc said, “I can already tell this is going to be good.”
“It’s simple.” Larson said, “We have the EVA suits. Each of those has its own air supply.”
“So what?” Doc asked, “Air isn’t the problem. Food is. Besides, the suits are only good for six hours use.”
“Yeah, but that’s more than we’ll need. We put the suits on, open the airlock, the vacuum sucks all the bugs into space, we replenish the ship’s atmosphere with the emergency reserve air…”
“…and we still have no food.” Doc said.
“We still have food, just less than we’d like. We spend a week on half rations, give the grow trays time to recover, we’ll be fine.”
“You and I have radically differing definitions of fine, but it’s the best plan we have, and the sooner we do this, the better. Let’s go propose your plan to the Captain.”
#
“I hate wearing these things,” Cap bitched, “Let’s get this over with.”
“On it, Cap.” Larson’s voice crackled over the suit’s radio. He had the panel off the airlock controls, sabotaging the safety override. It was taking forever as he fumbled in his spacesuit gloves. “Okay, that should do it. Hold onto something, everybody!”
The ship decompressed. Air whooshed out the airlock, taking pens, socks, status reports, and all other sorts of useless junk with it. But not all the useless junk. Larson remained.
As did most of the bugs. Many of them were sucked out, but the vast majority just held on tight with their six little legs. Stubborn bastards.
“Well,” Cap said, “There seems to be a flaw in your brilliant plan. What do we do now?”
“We wait them out,” Doc said into his suit radio, “They’re animals. They have to breath, same as us. Look, they’re already dying.”
Sure enough, the bugs had stopped moving.
“Fine.” Cap said, “How long do we wait?”
“Let’s give them five hours, to make sure they’re all good and dead. Replenishing the ship’s air will use up our reserve, so we can’t repeat this experiment.”
#
Five hours later, the suits’ alarms all went off. Larson closed the airlock and opened the reserve valve. Twenty minutes after that, they were all taking off their helmets.
“Thank God that’s over,” Cap said, his face wet with sweat, “Now all we have to do is collect the dead…”
The goddamn beetles were moving again.
“What are these?” Cap demanded, “Some kind of crazy zombie beetles?”
“No,” Doc said, staring at his computer screen, “It turns out insects can survive extended periods without air.”
“Well, that’s a fun science fact,” Cap said, “Just the sort of thing I’d expect a doctor to know.”
“I’m a people doctor, not a bug doctor. How was I supposed to know?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Cap said, “You might have thought to look at your computer six hours ago…”
“This bickering is getting us nowhere.” Larson pointed out.
“You’re right, Larson,” Cap said, “This situation requires direct action. I’m going directly to my bunk to get some sleep. Doc, you do the same. As for you, Larson, you’re pulling a double watch, and you’re on bug patrol. If it takes you all night, you are going to stay up, and kill every last one of these damned bugs.”
“But,” Larson butted, “How should I kill them, sir?”
“I don’t know, hit them with a shoe if you want. Just kill the damned bugs.” Cap went to his bunk. Doc shrugged, and went to his bunk, too.
Larson watched them walk away, and considered his options. He went to the engine room, found a microwelder, and set it to its lowest setting. Returning to the galley, he touched it to one of the beetles. It made a satisfying spark. The bug made a slight popping noise. Soon, the galley was filled with a toasty smell.
“Neat.” Larson said.
#
Doc woke up to the smell of food. “I must be hallucinating,” he muttered, but he got up anyway, drawn to the irresistible smell. It led him to the galley. There, Larson sat at the table, bowl in front of him, spoon in hand crunching away at something.
“What are you eating?” Doc asked, “Are you eating the…”
“I sautéed them in butter.” Larson said, then picked a tiny leg out from his teeth, “They’re actually delicious.”
End

So that's this week's story, another tragically flawed gem. I think I'm actually getting better at this. And it's all because of you. Thank you so much, I can't say that enough, you're keeping me alive, I love you all, see you in 24.