Tag Archives: Book

Cthulhu, Part #2 (Fragment #020)

I glanced at the badge and said with my most seductive grin, “Mike, I want to exchange this pillow!”

“Sorry?”

Dammit… My sleepless night was probably affecting my skills of seduction. Or else I should have dressed up my presentation with another gleaming cuspids’ grin… I licked my lips and said again, “I want to exchange this pillow, baby!”

The last word, I added in vain.

“Are you a fool, baby? Or is it hungover syndrome, baby? Is it serviceable? Yes? You should read the rules at least once. Exchanges are impossible!” He looked at me crossly. “Tux? Schrodinger’s cat? Alfred Pennyworth? Take these instructions and get out! I’m busy!”

I didn’t have the strength for the scandal of this argument. I took the white brochure and plodded to my room at a snail’s pace.

I’m sure only Dummies read manuals… I felt like a mentally retarded person as I started to page through the brochure. Introduction. Getting started. I decided to start at ‘appendices’.

Appendix A, ‘The Dream-book’. A hookah… A spliff… There was nothing about Cthulhu, octopuses and ‘to zohavat’. I checked Appendix A twice. I felt I was struggling mentally… A leap ‘A visit from grandma or take part in a swingers party.’ Now, I would agree with both variants, and I would even agree to combining them… I would agree to anything except for Cthulhu!

I opened Appendix B. ‘The 10 Commandments’. Thou shalt have no other pillows. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy pillow. Thou shalt not take vengeance on thy pillow. Thou shalt not kill thy pillow.

I gasped. What bullshit?!

Suddenly it dawned on me. They are kidding me! It’s April Fools’ Day! Our office inherited this silly tradition from the Research Institute that was here before us. (to be continued)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

My special thanks to Cyan Ryan
for grammar corrections and improvement this essay!

Cthulhu, Part #1 (Fragment #019)

I ruined my first pillow. My left eye-fang punctured a microchip on its case.

A guy from the supply department laughed at me, but he still gave out a new pillow afterwards. The first case always comes with an implied warranty. Nobody can restrain themselves the first time… except the guy whose nickname is ‘Cloistress’. But I doubt he is ever fully conscious as I always see him junked-up. Either way, it’s true – he has never ruined a pillow. The complete moron!

I unwrapped its thin yellow paper, seeing it was covered with unintelligible squiggles… Jeez! I was a bit bewildered… The configuration of my new pillow was strange to say the least. I would even say its configuration was suspicious. It conjured up associations with Cthulhu. But on the other hand, it wasn’t half-bad… there would be minimal risk of my biting Cthulhu. My previous pillowcase had a picture of a woman’s breast, and that ended quite sadly for both of us.

I slept horribly, though.

…Cthulhu told me that I am an apostate, and a coward. He was demanding the reopening of an investigation against Paul the Octopus. I protested and though my protests were pathetic, I too thought Paul was a hypocrite and a charlatan…

By morning I had firmly committed myself to exchanging this hellish pillow. I didn’t know then that we don’t choose our pillow… it’s vice versa. (to be continued)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

a Book (Fragment #027)

Урок 27 - The Book (by Culpeo-Fox)

An awesome work by Culpeo-Fox. Favourite books, favourite movies, favourite voices and favourite persons…

Again… this happened again. Again, I was reprimanded by Mr. Turdman and sent to our library to endure my punishment. I restrained myself with some effort, and hid my happy smile. I put the mask of a martyr over my face, and slowly left the classroom. The conditions of my punishment were that I must unpack some boxes filled with donated books. I must repair the damaged books then sort and catalog them all… Do you think that’s boring? Hell, no man! I know this work well and enjoy it!

On my way, I came across Patrick outside the library… Hmm… What the hell was he doing here? He should be in the basement near his precious ribbed eggs… As usual, Patrick was engrossed in himself and didn’t notice me… or he just pretended that he didn’t… as always… My day would be made if I ruined him and his eggs! With such lovely thoughts, I walked into the library.

…I need, my dear friend, some illusions of elegance. Some elaborate magic tricks of my mind. Some visually enigmatic intrigue. Hmm… For example, I see… a pompously decorated dinner table… genteel society and lazy intellectual discussions… candles, goblets, silver… The luxurious tablecloth falls down to the floor… long… so long… and… Do you know what? It isn’t a tablecloth! It’s the hem of a dress! Long… so long… A long evening dress, an elegant, beautiful dress. It’s worn by a pretty girl standing on the stairs… with a glass of red wine and a cigarette in her cigarette holder, with a fur boa on her white marble shoulders… The girl is apathetic and cold. She doesn’t care about this genteel banquet. She spits on it. But… no… I was wrong! I glanced into her eyes… I understood… She isn’t cold and apathetic! The moment passed – she sharply tugged her hem! And candles, goblets, silver fly up into the air! And expensive red wine splashes pale aristocratic faces like luxurious toilets! And truffles with oysters dirty the exclusive parquet and silk wallpapers! And our girl… Oh! She’s fucked them all over! She’s leaving the banquet with her head held high through the front door…

…when I came back to myself, I was alone in the dark at the library. Damn! What is this? I twiddled the book without a cover in my paws. (to be continued)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

the Bronze Horseman (Fragment #025)

My work in the museum is what I would call my hobby, as my work in B.O.S.O.M. is my real source of income. It’s a very nice, financially advantageous environment… if you can adopt the thought that you are merely a tool – a means to an end. Filth, innuendos and deviant urges are all commonplace, routine parts of the job here. Nobody will be polite towards a kettle or a floor mat. It’s normal. The wishes of our clients are supreme law here. Because (sorry for my banality!) they pay. OK, let’s do without naming the number I dance to!

Generally, we all do everything, and we can’t reject orders. But everyone has their own private preferences. Betty, for example, likes to be a piano or a harp. She likes music and musicians. (By the way, she has a really rad voice! She might make a great career out of it.) Damn! I looked away again! My bad!

What about me? If you’re reading this part of my scribble, you should know that my passion is literature. I like to be a book. I like writers and readers. I like to be written and to be read. I’ve been educational supplies and novels, vignettes and literary magazines. They’ve yearned for sweethearts and derided malevolent persons with me. They…

– Hey, baby! A client is waiting for you!

I put aside the anthology of The Silver Age of Russian Poetry.

– Come in, Schulz!

He’s a really great guy. He always tries to select clients for us whose proclivities match our personal bents.

– What is it today, Schulz?
– A reader. Pushkin. The Bronze Horseman.
– Not bad!
– Yes… I know you like books and Pushkin, baby… but there is a slight change. Today won’t be ink.

Suddenly, I notice the heavy awl and a packet of little metallic beads in his hands.

– What the hell?
– Sorry, baby… It’ll be Braille. Your client is blind.

“And turned to him with his back, proudest,
On height that never might be tossed,
Over Neva’s unending wildness,
Stands, with his arm, stretched to skies, lightless,
The idol on his brazen stallion.”

Oh, my poor over-extended spine… Fuck! Pushkin! Son of a bitch! Why did you write such lengthy poems?! I hate you and your excessively descriptive style! Now I’ll only read Matsuo Basho! (to be continued)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014

My special thanks to Cyan Ryan
for the grammar corrections and improvement this essay!

GUEST POST // An Unkindness of Ravens by Obsidian Visionary

Perched upon the branch of an elder oak,
Eyes brimming with hunger, ebony cloak
Talons sharp, a blood stained jaw,
Eerily beautiful but with many a flaw.

Wings of black, known to be nefarious
Whoever thought this to be all, must be delirious
Mustn’t judge a book by its tainted cover
Although dark, a brighter personality you may uncover.

Widely reputed for its malicious behavior,
And famous for its merciless demeanor.
But in those void less eyes of oblivion,
Traces of wisdom seek dominion.

Intellect and madness are both one handed
Words of insight not to be demanded
An endless swirl of a dual personality
All mixed up in a single feathered entity

These beasts of onyx despise cowards
Only to the brave, knowledge it shall pass onwards
Approach the deity only if you are not craven
For you might have to face an Unkindness of Ravens.

by OBSIDIAN VISIONARY
© All rights reserved 2014