100 WORD SKITTLE // Career Slip

Razorblade was sick of shaving pubic hair for a living.

He’d applied to the Department of Burly Beards but got a ‘Your application will be kept on file’ along with a pithy ‘Good luck.’

“Fuck that noise,” declared Razorblade. “I’m takin’ the high road!”

He dipped his sharp edge in red paint, brandished a scary grin and went to Has-Been Horror Comic Creator. “You need me!” said Razorblade. “I’ll get you into the news again!”

“Sure,” said Has-Been Horror Comic Creator. He took Razorblade, went to the bathroom and cut his veins.

Next day they both made the front page.

Career Slip

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Gogga Blend

It began with a tragedy. I truly thought I’d not survive it but I did. Have you ever found a spider in your morning coffee? Or, more precisely, the last spoon of coffee that you scratched from the tin. That’s what happened to me.

First, there’s the awful realisation that it’s not coffee heaped up on your spoon. No, it’s a very angry huntsman. Normally they’re pretty chill but when they’ve been hacked at with a blunt metal implement over and over… well, they’re no longer willing to let bygones be bygones.

Second is the even more awful realisation that there’s no more coffee left. Perhaps I wouldn’t mind so much if the huntsman had escaped when I cracked open the lid. But now, with what little remains of the coffee thoroughly mixed with spider parts and limbs… well, I’m really not prepared to use it, and not even if it was the last spoon of coffee in the world.

So, anyway, the spider skittered out onto my hand with its last remaining legs and hissed at me. I swear, that’s what it did! Are huntsman spiders even capable of this? I don’t know, but if pain could give it wings then I would have much preferred this. Poor little guy! Still, I was pretty pissed off too. So, I thought a little bit and hissed back. The spider stared at me with its last remaining eye, and I could’ve sworn there was something akin to surprise in its look.

I was about to say something when it held out its front fang for me to shake. I didn’t quite know what else to do, so I held out my other hand and extended my forefinger. We shook, and with that the spider hopped off and limped away.

And then I got dressed and went to the coffee shop.


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PERFECTION IN ACTION // The High Art of Bargaining

He said, “Just look at his rather noble profile! You can hang this above your fireplace and tell everyone it’s your Grandfather. Thirty euros only!”

She thought, “I hated my Grandfather when he was alive, and I hate him now, so why would I want a painting of him above the fireplace I don’t have? And it looks nothing like him!”

But out loud she said, “Just look at my rather peasant nose. It’s an artichoke! Who’d believe that this refined gentleman is my Grandfather? Fifteen!”

He grimaced, saying, “You’re right. I can sell it for five.”

She punched him.

Artichoke Man

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ABSURDIS EXTREME // Case Study #201 [24/04/2014]

Once upon a time, my belly was made of cookie dough. I don’t know how or why it happened. Or even when. One moment I was crushing whole anvils with mere stomach crunches, and the next I was resisting the urge to bake and eat myself.

It’s thanks to my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ that my prayers were heard, and that there were suddenly peanuts and raisins in my belly! I was able to pick these out and be satiated without giving in to the horrifying temptation of chewing on my own flesh. Who chews flat dough without raisins anyway? Nobody but godless heathens, that’s who!

All this to say that this is why I believe in miracles. A real life one happened to me that day and I’ll be eternally grateful for it. I mean, what would have happened if I’d eaten my own belly? I would have had no belly left to… fill my belly. And then where would I have been? Damn. Such a scary thought!

And then they invented chocolate…

Dough Belly

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