Category Archives: AWARDS & OTHER POSTS

Teti-à-Tête (With Tony) #13

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Tati as TATI

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Tony as TONY

ACT 99 SCENE 5
TWO AND TWO MAKE FOUR

TONY: 23,770… 23,771… 23,772… and… 23,773! Whew!

Tony wipes the sweat from his brow. He’s sitting cross-legged on the lounge room floor, peering intently at a laptop screen. He seems to be quite chuffed about something.

Tati comes into the room chewing bubble gum. She notices Tony at his laptop, and approaches with no small amount of curiosity. She leans over his shoulder, popping a whopping big bubble right next to his ear.

TONY: Jumping Jehoshaphat! Tati, what the hell?!

TATI: Well, pardon me! I thought you had your hearing aid turned off.

TONY: Why would I do that? I need to hear when you’re creeping up on me!

TATI: It looks like it isn’t coping with that task, otherwise you wouldn’t have jumped out of your pants!

TONY: Ha bloody ha. How very droll.

TATI: Anyway, what are you counting? Or do you just enjoy the fact that you can count?

TONY: I didn’t graduate kindergarten only yesterday! Give me some credit.

He indicates the laptop screen.

TONY: I’ve been counting our blog comments.

TATI: Really? And the point of this is…?

TONY: It’s nice to see how far we’ve come. I remember the days when we were hardly getting any comments at all. Don’t you?

TATI: I do, but what’s the point of counting them?

TONY: It reminds me to be grateful for all the attention we’ve been getting.

TATI: I get it, Tony. I’m not dense! But still I ask, what’s the point?

TONY: Well, these high numbers are getting me kinda giddy with excitement. I think I wanna go set off firecrackers in some letterboxes now… you know, to celebrate.

Tony offers a self-conscious smile.

Tati pushes past Tony and grabs the laptop. She starts to poke her finger around the touchscreen.

TONY: Hey! You’re getting your greasy mitts all over my lovely, pristine laptop!

TATI: What?! They’re as clean a newborn’s ass!

Tati licks her hand and shoves it under Tony’s nose—palm up—as proof of her claim.

TATI: See?

Tony wrinkles his nose in disgust, visibly squirming where he sits.

TONY: Erm, okay.

Tati lets rip a snort of victory, and continues to fidget her finger over the touchscreen.

TONY: Okay, seriously, what are you doing?

Tati opens the admin panel on their site, and pokes at the section ‘Comments’.

TATI: Got it?

TONY: Nope. I’m not at all convinced that I’ve ‘got it’.

Tati rolls her eyes.

TATI: Look!

She jabs at a particular point on the screen.

TATI: There’s the exact number of comments in parentheses!

TONY: I can see that! It’s at 23,781 now!

TATI: Well… 23,784 actually… but I’m trying to figure out why you’re counting them manually? Are you some kind of pervert? Do you have a number fetish?

Tony’s face turns redder than a stop sign on Mars.

TONY: Erm… no. I just didn’t see the little number in brackets…

Tati looks genuinely shocked.

TATI: Really?!

Suddenly realising the magnitude of his mistake, Tony looks at her with heartbreakingly wretched hangdog eyes. He says in a tiny squeak…

TONY: I know. I’m not a man.

TATI: And how long have you been counting for?

Tony’s voice is now a pathetic whisper.

TONY: Three hours…

Tati suddenly remembers that there’s bubble gum in her mouth. She resumes her chewing, her face taking on a musing look.

TONY: Why are you looking at me like that?

His voice has risen above a whisper again. Tati pops another bubble.

TATI: Honestly? I’m torn between contempt and respect.

TONY: Okay, just gonna go hide in a cupboard now…

TATI: No no no! You really are a lovely idiot, Tony. You’ve valiantly spent three hours on this fruitless task.

Tati ruffles his hair.

TATI: Let’s finish it together, yes? After all, we have a lot of readers to be thankful for.

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Dear Readers,

We at Unbolt Me have a special message for you.

WE LOVE YOU!

Seriously, we could not have lasted these five years without your unflagging support. The fact that you keep coming back to read our silly little offerings means more than we can adequately say. In fact, we’re not particularly adept at conveying gratitude at all, and now neither of us is able to think of an elegant way to conclude this thank you message.

So… let’s just stop there, shall we?

(At this point, Tati is whispering to Tony in a menacing tone. She hopes he hasn’t actually been counting followers too. Tony’s tapping his hearing aid, pretending that it doesn’t work.)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

Open-Source Poetry Three #4

Dear Readers,

Things are heatin’ up with them dolphins. The latest eyewitness report by cynicalwordsmith proves this. And now we’re left wondering why the Navy Seals continue to ignore this imminent danger. Why don’t they raise the alarm? Where’s the armed escort? The strike teams? It might even be too late!

Guys, if we don’t wish to be slaves to the dolphins, to serve them coffee in bed and wash their bloody underpants, then we need to rise up and fight! Break out your nets. Get your fishing rods and meat hooks. Unpack those pointedly pointy harpoons. This means war!

For those of you who are still on the fence about this whole communal poetry writing project, cast your eyes over the rules of engagement and have a serious think about jumping into the party pool with the rest of us. But beware of anything that possesses a blowhole!

1) We provide the next line of the poem. (See below.)
2) You write the following line.
3) You submit your line via the comments section of this very post.
4) We pick the line we like most and add it to the poem.
5) We publish every line to date in a follow-up post.
6) Steps 1-5 are repeated until we have a masterpiece!

And holy hell on a cracker, you people that’ve been playing so far are twisted daredevils! (Almost as much as us.) Your entries have been as creative as they are varied, and we’re so grateful that you’ve chosen to participate!

Вензель

wet backs, sharp fangs, dangerous dolphin eyes
waves for crowns and blood in the water
they wade through utter slaughter
captain ahab, hunting still, with wife and son and daughter

their harpoons at the ready, of fearsome size
all prepared to greet the impending crimson tide
it seems that the gore storm will never subside

Вензель_нижний

by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLE, RUNN1N90NEMPTY’S DAUGHTER, PETER’S PONDERING & CYNICALWORDSMITH
© All rights reserved 2019

SPAM® Sushi #7

Children’s length of existence is often an worthy discouragement, especially because most children’s wheelchairs are expected to pattern 3 years.
— FrithjofDuen

It’s an outrage! Obviously, the children manufacturers and wheelchair manufacturers need to sit at the negotiating table and hash this one out. All technical documents and specifications from both parties need to be harmonised across the board, and made to comply with industry standards. In short, the life cycles of both product lines need to be a controlled value. No to individual initiative! Yes to planned economy!
— Tati (Hon. D.B. in Business Coaching & Economics Wranglement) & Tony (Ph.D. in Uncontrolled Nutation & Pointless Armchair Critiquery)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

Open-Source Poetry Three #3

Our dearest Writers and Readers,

Guess what? Now we feel like teachers in a classroom full of naughty children! Albeit genius children. We gave you a mere few lines and you went running off with them like they were a pair of sharp scissors!

Once we showed our admiration for the poetic maverick geek that is the Great Von, you started to bomb us with your boundless creativity and flagrant disregard of the rules. Are we cross with you all? No! We love it!

BUT—and we say this with a dull tone, adjusting the glasses on our noses—you need to be reminded of the rules. Do you hear us, MiamiMagus, David Koblentz, gregorystackpole, rebel1955 (yes, you’re a real rebel!)? Your submissions were lovely, but alas we cannot accept them!

There’s nothing for it. We shall have to keep you back after class for detention. And you shall write the following line one hundred times: ‘captain ahab, hunting still, with wife and son and daughter’. As for you, Peter Pondering, you may go leave early. Yes, as the originator of this line, you get to cut class before the bell rings! Lucky boy!

Oh! But before that we need to remind you of the rules and reveal our next line. We hope you’ll be more diligent next time! (Such naughtiness!)

1) We provide the next line of the poem.
2) You write the following line.
3) You submit your line via the comments section of this very post.
4) We pick the line we like most and add it to the poem.
5) We publish every line to date in a follow-up post.
6) Steps 1-5 are repeated until we have a masterpiece!

Вензель

wet backs, sharp fangs, dangerous dolphin eyes
waves for crowns and blood in the water
they wade through utter slaughter
captain ahab, hunting still, with wife and son and daughter

their harpoons at the ready, of fearsome size

Вензель_нижний

by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLE, RUNN1N90NEMPTY’S DAUGHTER & PETER’S PONDERING
© All rights reserved 2019

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Daedalon by J.R. Ackerley

Aye, I am foolish for I know
That I shall sadden when you go,
And I am blind because I see
That you were more than God to me:
A brighter sun than Heaven’s shone
When I was with you, Daedalon.

Can I find strength enough to stand
The last slight pressure of your hand;
Can I find fortitude to bear
The knowledge that you are not there,
Then turn my Book of Life upon
The memory of Daedalon

Remember you! No, no, I’ll shut
The Book, or from its pages cut
The image of you graven there,
The dingy tangle of your hair,
Your ill-kept hands and lifeless face,
And seek friends in some other place.

Forget you? … When my heart repeats
Your wisdom to me as it beats? …
That always you may be the same
My rhymes shall vivify your name …
Aye, cunningly I’ll play upon
The happy name of Daedalon.

But you were cold to me, I know,
Who never dreamed my thoughts to show,
But sat content to hear you speak,
And see the bronzeness of your cheek,
Your sunburnt nose and wounded eye …
But never told you, no, not I.

Yes, I am blind; but still I saw
The beauty of you all the more,
How slowly came your drawled reply,
How gleamed your artificial eye;
And on the morrow you’ll be gone …
Ah, but I loved you, Daedalon.

by J.R. ACKERLEY (1896-1967)
Public Domain Poetry