Author Archives: Tony Single

100 WORD SKITTLE // Sharing is Caring

His balls were huge, so she’d cut them off and stuffed them down the front of her blouse to appear bustier. Unfortunately, she now also looked hairy-chested!

On the other hand, he was admiring himself in the mirror. Her boobs—so small and smooth with a cute mole on the left one—looked appealing in place of his crotch. He couldn’t believe she’d given him permission to cut them off!

But she was dissatisfied. When asked to swap everything back, he refused. “We had a deal,” he said. “No backsies!”

And he walked away, throwing out his crotch with pride.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021

SOAPBOX TNT // Absolutely Bombastic… But Actually?

TATI: Tony, you’re a fan of videogames, virtual reality and other cool modern ‘toys’, aren’t you?

TONY: Pretty much! If it involves joysticks or pixels then count me in!

TATI: Oh, I hoped for this answer. Another question: Do you like ABBA?

TONY: I love ABBA!

TATI: Have you heard they’ve reformed for the Voyage tour in 2022?

TONY: I have, and I’m very excited about it too! I can’t wait to see them on stage again, and to hear their new songs!

TATI: I bet millions of people would agree with you on this. To see their idols live again? To hear their voices? People are clamouring to pay hundreds—even thousands—of dollars for the tickets! Will you and Cassy go to their new show if you have the chance?

TONY: Hm. Depends on whether or not we can actually afford it, I guess.

TATI: Imagine that you can afford tickets for the show.

TONY: Well then it’s a hard YES!

TATI: And now imagine that you bought the tickets, are looking forward to the show, and maybe even prepared some silly t-shirts with ‘I love ABBA’ to wear to the concert.

TONY: I wouldn’t wear such a t-shirt but everything else tracks so far!

TATI: No matter—then silicone bracelets. You’ve recharged your phone so that you can take some cool photos and videos to post on Instagram. Why? Because everyone should know you were there!

TONY: Should they? Or should I just go along with your scenario? It sounds like you’re building up to something…

TATI: Okey dokey. So, you’re there. Everyone’s excited and full of anticipation. Light slowly fills the stage, the chords of your favourite song starts to play, you and Cassy are jumping and yipping on the parquet like two teenagers.

TONY: Okay, I’m seeing this in my head now. Pretty cool!

TATI: You’re ready to finally meet the legendary band. After so many years they are together again on stage. But…

TONY: But… what? Now you’re beginning to worry me.

TATI: Perhaps you didn’t remember to read the disclaimer in tiny letters on the last page of the brochure. Who reads that stuff anyway? But, you see, it says that there’re no Benny, Anni-Frid, Agnetha and Björn on the stage.

TONY: What the dum dum diddle FUCK?!

TATI: Well, they are mere holograms, their young digital avatars on the stage. It is not them in person. So… what do you feel?

The New ABBA!

TONY: I…

TATI: Do you feel excited? Do you love pixels now?

TONY: Well… I…

TATI: Come on, boy! You did say that they could count you in!

TONY: Well, no! Not if this is all I’m paying my hard earned cash for!

TATI: And what’s the difference, Tony? Why are you suddenly so tight-fisted? I believe your beloved PS5 cost a lot of money too.

TONY: Yes, because I know I’m going to be playing some of the finest videogames ever made on it! I’m not expecting ABBA to also be videogame characters! I’m expecting them to actually be live on stage! You know… in the flesh?

TATI: Oh, I hoped for this answer!

TONY: Did you now?! Well, bully for you! What are you hoping to achieve with this conversation? Other than to break my heart? I was really hoping to see ABBA live!

TATI: Sorry, Tony. I promise to stop tossing these concepts around for now. Actually, I wholeheartedly agree with you on this. I don’t want to see a digital ABBA. I prefer to see them live even though they’ve grown old, gotten some grey hair, wrinkles and put on excess pounds.

TONY: Exactly! If all we’re gonna get is a glorified digital show then I’d much rather stay at home and watch some of their old concerts on DVD. It makes more sense!

TATI: Yes, and even if their voices aren’t so clean and powerful now, they’ve got lived experience and the feeling of passing years. I bet every song will sound different now. 1972 to 1982 versus 2022. A whole life lies between those dates, huh?

TONY: Yes, that’s part of what I enjoy about following certain singers and bands. It’s the pleasure of seeing how their artistic expression evolves and matures over time. It would be a shame if they remained static and only did the same kind of thing over and over and over again.

TATI: Why do you think they are doing this? Of course, it’s not about the money—and they’ll still get millions from this anyway. Are they afraid to present themselves as they are now to their legions of faithful fans who probably remember them when they were young and beautiful? Or do they hope to gain a new generation of fans through the use of modern, gimmicky technologies?

TONY: It’s hard to know really. Like you say, they don’t need the money, so I’m assuming the hologram angle is more for personal creative reasons. But what would those creative reasons be? What artistic satisfaction could they possibly derive from this rather than the more traditional live on stage approach?

TATI: Perhaps you can consider me cynic but I vote for the age option. They’re scared of showing themselves as they are now and don’t feel confident.

TONY: Perhaps vanity does play a part in this. If it’s true then I personally would find it hard to fault them. I always think twice before committing my face to film too. It shouldn’t matter at the end of the day but unfortunately that’s not the world we live in. But let me ask you something: Do you think the kind of concert they’re going to stage in 2022 is ever going to be as good as just appearing as themselves live on stage?

The New ABBA!

TATI: I have no idea if it will be a great show or a total fuck up. Let me put my answer this way: I’d prefer an imperfect live show than a perfect digital one.

TONY: Yes, I agree. I mean, sure, they can put on whatever the hell kinda show they want. They’re artists after all, and that’s what artists do. They buck expectations and try to give the audience what it never knew it wanted. Hopefully that will be the case here.

TATI: So, ultimately, would you pay you money for the digital ABBA?

TONY: No. I would save that money for something else. I assume your answer would be the same, yes?

TATI: Absolutely! And now, I feel this is a perfect place to end our discussion and pass the baton to our Dearest Readers. What do they feel about this? Would they pay money for tickets to this new ABBA show?

TONY: Excellent! Well, I’m off to play some more ‘Metroid Dread’. I gotta help Samus defeat some creepy robot to get a morph ball upgrade.

TATI: Great! I’m off to do some yoga. I believe it will be more useful for keeping my mind and ass in a good shape. Let’s have another look in forty years and see which of us will be more prepared for a live tour. Who do you bet?

TONY: Oh, that’s easy. Samus!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021

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The Horns of a Shibboleth

Sir Bafometz was a scruffy gentleman despite his overall sartorial style. Sure, he looked like a leftover mop that had been hastily stuffed into a set of the King’s finest clothes but he didn’t care. He knew who he was and he carried himself with pride.

He often wore a bowler hat, two long screw-in horns and a big, gold star on his head. The hat didn’t fit in the narrow space between the horns but when Sir Bafometz pushed it down to his forehead it covered the star. This was hardly ideal. One could even say that he was caught on the horns of a dilemma!

And when it came to flying, the horny dilemma only got worse. Although he had an impressive wingspan, Sir Bafometz rarely got to flex it because of the aforementioned hat situation. If he even so much as looked at the heavens with a wistful eye, a gust of wind would steal along and snatch his hat away.

But Sir Bafometz was a true gentleman with grace, manners, education and other secular bullshit that people like. He knew the expected etiquette which is why he never left the house without his troublesome hat. Being hatless would be mauvais ton if you will. And so it was that Sir Bafometz carried his hat everywhere in his right hand. No matter where he was it could be found at the end of his arm, swinging in perfect time with his stylish, confident gait. He was like Mick Jagger strutting across a stage—but with a snazzy hat instead of a microphone.

But here’s where another nuisance was on the lookout for poor Sir Bafometz. For some weird reason—despite his fancy silk tie, snappy three-piece suit and polished hooves—people still mistook him for a beggar and would try to drop a penny or two into the hat. This irked him at first but then he came to a realisation. He could use the spare change to buy Chuckles and Goobers for the neighbourhood kids.

That’s why his porch was never empty during Halloween from that point on. There were always noisy kids around, jumping and elbowing, jockeying for the best pick of the sweets on offer. And so the soft light of the Jack-o’-lantern on his windowsill was a promise of kindness and good cheer for everybody who needed it.

Yes, our good ol’ Sir Bafometz was a bonhomme of the highest order, despite initially being on the horns of a dilemma. He never did let anything get him down for long.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021

GUEST POST // Lockdown, Mate by Harry Wilding

I.
—ckfuckfuckfuckfuck Jeremy enters Victoria shopping centre with a bladder primed to burst trying his best to walk normally even though he knows he looks like one of those racewalkers not quite running not quite walking with those strangely snake-like hips fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck he should have just gone at his mum’s but what if he’d made her ill? she’s in a high risk group so he’d had to stay outside why is that old couple looking at him over their flowery masks fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck mask! he starts to root around in his back pocket for his own mask as the toilets come into view but two women clad in high-vis vests and plastic visors stand like Queen’s Guards at the entrance to the CLOSED facilities he starts to put on his stripy mask and pathetically pleads ‘why?’ only to be answered emotionlessly by the smaller blonde woman with ‘lockdown, mate’ fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck ‘ridiculous’ he mutters as he walks off ‘Greggs is open though! hooray for capitalism! you can buy a sausage roll while you piss your pants!’ he stumbles onto the escalator on his way to the next closest public toilets five minutes away but what if they’re also shut? fuckfuckfuckfuckpiss

II.
“Lockdown, mate,” Karen told him. What else? Idiot.

The man turned around and walked off. Karen cocked her head to the side, watching his bendy hips. He was mumbling to himself. Something about a Greg and capitalism and sausage pants?

“He had anti-masker vibes,” Debbie told her. “See how begrudgingly he put one on?”

“Can’t believe people still don’t get it,” she said.

“People are selfish,” Debbie said.

“If management think public toilets are an infection risk then we should do what they say,” Karen said.

Debbie nodded.

They noticed a woman jogging towards them. She had a small child in her arms. She slowed slightly as she passed them. Lockdown, mate.

“Can you be a big boy and hold it for another few minutes?” she was saying to the child. They headed for the escalator.

“They should have just gone before they came out, for crying out loud,” Karen said, shaking her head.

III.
‘Hey, we’re nearly there, honey, we’re nearly there.’

It’d been a testing morning. Dylan’s nanny had woken up ill, hopefully with just a cold (wait, will they need to shield just in case? What is the procedure now?) so Michelle had been all the way across town to grab Dylan from his father who had a busy day of Zoom meetings (that he ‘just can’t get out of’ and were ‘more urgent than her work things’).

Oh god, no. They aren’t closed, are they? (They are!) The place which is regularly cleaned and where everyone washes their hands is closed. Christ.

The two shopping centre staff watch as she approaches. She briefly considers rushing past them (like a rugby player going for a try) but hurries to the escalator instead. They’ll have to find an alley or something.

‘It’s okay, honey. Just another few minutes, can you be a big boy and hold it for another few minutes?’

Dylan lets out a moan that she presumes means ‘no, mother, I fucking cannot.’

Michelle quickens her pace as she steps off the escalator. Her torso, though, begins to feel warm. Warm and moist. She slows to a stop and closes her eyes, keeping Dylan close as she feels his urine seep into her top. The gentle sound of it pitter-pattering on the hard floor at her feet is strangely meditative, helping her to remain motionless like some kind of impromptu water feature.

‘You feel better, honey?’ The flow has finally stopped.

He nods, burying his face further into her shoulder.

‘Good. Home time, yeah?’

She opens her eyes, sensing people peering at her over their masks. She starts towards the bus stop, giving less of a damn than she thought she would.

IV.
dev and becki are live streaming from a bench

– if you’re just tuning in, yeah, there’s an actual puddle of piss, but people keep, like, only just avoiding it

– we should’ve taken live bets, innit. becki looks over at the escalator. we might of got another contender, yo

a vicky centre worker is coming down, blonde and serious in her high-vis vest. stepping off the escalator, she turns towards the puddle. her eyes are laser-focussed on the greggs

dev and becki both sit forward, holding their breath. dev quickly double-checks he’s recording, making sure he’s got the best framing. she is getting close, walking fast

– she must really want a sausage roll, innit

and the woman stands in the puddle, bang on

– oh shiiiiit!

both her legs fly up in front of her, her whole body almost horizontal in the air for a moment, before she comes crashing back down with a small moist thud. she almost immediately sits up, stunned, a patch of wet darkening the vicky centre logo on her high-vis

– holy shit, that was epic!

– i didn’t think people actually fell like that except in cartoons, innit!

they’re both almost choking on their laughter, tears streaming

– you laughing at that idiot who just slipped? a guy in a stripy mask stands by them, looking over at the woman as she slowly gets to her feet

they nod, bent forwards, heads in arms

the guy nods back, straight-faced

– yeah, it was fucking funny, to be honest

by HARRY WILDING
© All rights reserved 2021

numen mentis

there’s whale song lilting in my brain
e’er beyond a distant shore
away from the fever dreams i
had circumnavigated
to be with you

in stoic avoidance i’d
edged between foam and dune
got shipwrecked in lieu of belonging
and realised this place was ne’er home
nor bullion of promises meant for me

was it e’er only me
this resolve i had to follow you

had it e’er been the face of god
that mine hands held out to enfold

there’s waters swelling o’er that shore
nigh on the embankment of my brain
and the whale song serenade
decrying happy e’er once upons
i finally see that i was satan all along

and ‘tween these flashes of meaning i
espy twin trails o’er bleary sands
one forged with longing, the other you
anchored away from expectation
the fading proof of our story

had i e’er only been
this resolve straining for you

was it e’er truly the face of god
or mine hands beheld to the prints of darkness

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021