CRUMBLE CULT // The First Pancake is Always Lumpy

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

GUEST POST // Memories from the dead by Richard Green

On these damp and grey November days I think
Of things that should have happened but never did.
Of conversations that were never spoken
Afraid to raise the memories from the dead.

Of the questions that were formed but never asked.
Of the the horrors that were felt but never breathed.
Of carefully made plans that never began.
Of the dreams discarded like old newspapers.

I never finished that book, that course that day.
I never figured out what I was feeling.
I never found all the words I tried to speak.
I never look back, never ever look back.

I should’ve told her how he was hurting me.
I should’ve screamed and kicked and made him stop it.
I should’ve bit down hard when I had the chance.
I should have cut his throat as he slept at night.

I could’ve been anything I wanted to.
I could’ve worked harder, been more compliant.
I could’ve been less terrified of success.
I could’ve done better, could’ve done much better.

I never developed a strong sense of self.
I never knew who I was supposed to be.
I never learned to trust my intuition.
I never really understood my feelings.

I learned to switch off and disassociate.
I learned that alcohol kept the pain at bay.
I learned that I was damaged, unloveable.
I earned not to trust people, they would hurt me.

All the wasted time of wishing I was dead
All the years never truly daring to live.
All the hurt I’ve done to others in my rage.
All this time I’ve let you walk around unharmed.

Now here I am still broken but not giving up.
Now I know my childhood was stolen from me.
Now I can survey the damage done to me.
Now I’m going to take the final fight to
you.

On these damp and grey November days I know
The things that should have never happened, but did.
Of the revelations that were never heard
It’s time to raise the memories from the dead.

by RICHARD GREEN
© All rights reserved 2019

MMORPB // Tati & Tony in Raiders of the Lost Snark Part Eight (Moderately Multiplayer Online Role Playing Book 18+)

or: EPISODE 8 // Where Tati Refuses to be the Mother of Mutants and Tony Pouts

In our previous episode, Tati and Tony discussed the state-of-the-art hamster porno industry, and proved that no one should buy super secret weapons from James Bond’s personal arsenal in a pedestrian subway in Uryupinsk.

“Please, don’t be a drama queen” growled Tati. “Or I will drop you.”

Suddenly, Tony stopped short. His eyes were as wide as hubcaps, then he began to gasp like a fish in a glass of tequila. He was clearly trying to speak, but couldn’t, mouthing the words instead. In fact, he was trying to draw Tati’s attention to something that was right next to them. Tati raised her eyes from his face to whatever had suddenly blocked the sun.

“What… what the holy, blue, actual huge fuck?!”

And that’s when the whale swallowed them. That’s right. A whale in the sky. A sky whale. It had flippers and it was flying.

Tati and Tony tumbled down the whale’s windpipe for what seemed like forever. There were lots of wet plops and bounces all the way down, until their moustaches and hats disappeared and they were coated with thick layers of saliva. They finally came to a stop in a giant chamber full of a bubbly liquid that was caustic to the touch. Tati clambered up a fleshy protrusion, dragging a hapless Tony with her.

“Shit.” Tati looked down at herself. Her clothes had completely disintegrated and dropped right off of her. She looked at Tony. Him too.

“I am ashamed!” squeaked Tony, immediately hiding his very tiny manhood behind one hand. The other hand was covering his face.

“Well, at least the umbrella’s still okay,” sighed Tati. She didn’t feel the need to comfort her friend in his time of emotional need. There were more pressing concerns.

Suddenly, Tony dropped his hand to reveal a faraway look on his face. “Adam and Eve,” he whispered. “We’re like… you know, Adam and Eve!”

Tati looked at him as if he was a complete, Old Testament bedlamite. She snorted derisively.

“Well… I may not be a Bible maniac,” she said, “but I do believe the ‘Jonah’ analogy is more appropriate here.”

Tony pouted. Obviously, in his wacky mind they’d already been through the Fall, and were ready to provide the whale’s innards with future generations of sticky, mutant inhabitants.

“Fine,” muttered Tony. “Then let’s get the hell out of here!”

“I couldn’t agree more,” said Tati, cocking her head to one side. She was studying the umbrella with renewed interest.

Tony noticed this. “What?”

“This umbrella has a special function. I just don’t know if it’s safe to activate it inside the belly of a flying whale.”

“What does it do?”

Tati glanced at her pathetic friend, then realised something awful. He was bald. The bubbly liquid stuff had eaten away Tony’s beautiful long hair. And his eyebrows. And, presumably, his pubes? In fact, there was not a single jot of hair left on his entire body!

“Why are you patting your head?”

Tati ignored his question, alarmed that she no longer had hair either. Nowhere, actually. She had hair nowhere. What the freaking fuck…

“Well, it looks like I no longer care if it’s safe to activate the special umbrella inside a whale.”

And before Tony could protest, Tati pressed a button on the handle. The umbrella flared wider than before. Sparks flew from its tip and canvas edges, sending what looked like streams of fireworks into the walls of the whale’s insides and gloop. Then everything around them grew brighter and brighter…


Catch other episodes in this series:

THE PILOT // Where Tati Makes Tony Blush
EPISODE 2 // Where Tati Makes Tony Choke
EPISODE 3 // Where Tati Gives Tony a Fungus Face
EPISODE 4 // Where Tati Rescues Tony’s Suitcase
EPISODE 5 // Where Tati Grabs Tony’s Shirt
EPISODE 6 // Where Tati Supercalifragilisticexpialidociouses Tony to New Heights
EPISODE 7 // Where Tati Cocks the Hamster and Tony Watches

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

puddle patter cha cha

that day was raining from bottom to top
the one and only greyface brandished her mop
the clouds were slick and so easy to slip on
which added to her task a certain frisson

and there she was, dancing above the rain
slide to the side, knee drop, choo choo train
bottoming the streets was so much fun
every nook and cranny was scoured on the run

the silly, silly people sheltering from the weather
peered from drab windows at her breaking her tether
they kept wondering if they’d need to call a head doctor
or get for the wild girl the school’s strictest proctor

they did not understand what was going on
why she was having fun to-ing and fro-ing on
and how a whole life could fit into a single rain drop
that day when it was raining from bottom to top

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020

THE ABCs OF A PECULIAR LIFE // Y is for Yellow & Yogini (Yodel in Y Major)

Who cares about aging Disney princesses? Yesterday’s fans might have been ready to tear each other’s throats out for the chance of getting Ariel’s autograph, but today? Well, today they were more likely to laugh at her bloated waistline and old-fashioned seashell bikini. That’s the kind of shit that happens to nice girls who are past their prime. Sigh.

No, Ariel was never envious toward her younger sisters. She truly loved them, and wished them only the best. But… she looked at her reflection in the water and reflexively readjusted the sea flower in her hair. Frankly speaking, she was not half bad, and could still play havoc with lovelorn hearts if she wanted. Well, she wanted very much, but was rarely given the chance. And she was good, but no longer all that popular, and so the wait between casting calls had only become longer and more frequent. Otherwise, Ariel would have eagerly taught all those meridas and tianas a thing or two. (Snigger.)

This thought cheered her up a little bit. Ariel even started to hum ‘San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)’ to herself. It was her Mother’s favourite song. She’d often drift into blissful slumber whenever her Mother crooned this song. And her Mother would endlessly make these pearly love beads. And twinkling freckles. These love beads and freckles, scattered all around the family grotto, were the fondest memories from Ariel’s childhood. And her Mother’s voice, of course. She would still hear it sometimes, even after so many years had passed. Another sigh.

Still humming her song, Ariel splashed at the water with her tail. Flounder, who was napping in the shallow end, flipped over but didn’t wake up. What a lazy ass! Truth be told, he was a very good friend, but not much of a receptionist. On the other hand, they didn’t get a lot of clients in ‘Athena’ either, so blaming Flounder for sleeping during work hours felt a little redundant.

“Namaste, Swami Yoko!”

A soft female voice distracted Ariel from her musings. She automatically pulled back her shoulders, widening her collarbones and lifting her sternum toward the sky, and lengthening her tailbone toward the rocks.

“Namaste, Mommy Dugong!” she said enthusiastically. “We have launched a brand new class: Alevins Yoga. A lot of fun and at a special price for mammals!”

Ariel gave Flounder’s ribs a furtive jab. Flounder sprang into the air with a wide eyed gasp, and plopped into the water again. He reappeared in moments with a wet leaflet, but Mommy Dugong had already moved on. It looked as though she’d been in a hurry.

Ariel waved, then went back to her hunched state and reached for a cigarette. She’d only just clicked the lighter when a ringing young voice sang right behind her back.

“Namaste, Swami Yoko!”

Ariel dropped her cigarette into the water. She pressed her hands together, hiding the lighter, and bowed with a suitably cosmic smile.

“Namaste, Maiden Stella! We invite you to Morning Mantra Meditations every Saturday at 5. Sunrise, subtle vibes and cut prices for students!”

This time Flounder was ready, and the leaflet almost dry. But Maiden Stella obviously wasn’t ready to get up at such an unearthly hour for some whimsical humming. She mumbled something polite, blurred and zipped off, hugging to herself a trunk with a ukulele.

Ariel took the cigarette from Flounder’s back. How had it gotten stuck there? “Yoga really isn’t all that popular along this stretch of coastline, Flounder. Don’t you find?” She looked rather exhausted, and her real age suddenly became quite apparent.

Flounder nodded sadly. Yes, he was truly an awful receptionist, but at least he was a faithful friend. He cared for Ariel a great deal. It’s why he’d agreed to accept the wearisome role of administrator for her yoga classes. But, really, the time had come for him to man up and act. He could see that he’d need to take the steering wheel and save this silly, semicentennial girl (and himself, of course) from their current, disastrous course. There had to be a Plan B.
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“C’mon, babe, don’t be shy! Show these green-ass pipsqueaks some real rock-n-roll!”

The ‘Yellow Submarine’ nightclub patrons were shaking, shimmering and screaming with delight, like a living entity. They cheered on a flushed, panting, but joyful Mommy Dugong who was stomping the dance floor with Little Dugong and his friends. Flounder was polishing a glass at the counter with an unabashedly happy grin.

After a little while, Maiden Stella walked onto the tiny stage. She had ensnared a huge, awkward guy who seemed to be totally embarrassed. A hush came over the crowd.

“Dear Mommy Dugong, today, in celebration of your big birthday, Kai and me want to sing this song. Hey, who’s going to San Francisco?”

The crowd shouted with delight. There was a standing ovation before the music had even begun to play! And it did. Flounder wisely turned the lights down a notch. The patrons at the ‘Yellow Submarine’ nightclub started to rock gently in time with the music, and most of them in couples.

Ariel was sitting on the porch of the nightclub, smoking. The stars in the sky were exactly like the love beads and twinkling freckles of her childhood. “Happy birthday, Mother,” she said softly, and blinked away a tiny, grateful tear.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017