Deuteronomy: something that Moses and Eliot hushed up

A tiny, black Kitten took a leisurely stroll down a drowsy, prestigious street. Kitten didn’t seem lost or panicked. I would even say that Kitten was rather focused, as if looking for something.

Finally, Kitten chose a cute little porch adorned with dried twigs, pumpkins and autumnal blooms, and climbed onto it. Kitten sat a little bit, and then delved into some unsolicited mail which was tossed around, as if to fill the time.

A passing dog stopped to look at Kitten, then it bristled and started to bark. Kitten ignored this while continuing to pore over a leaflet with ads of whistling kettles.

The door opened a crack and from it an annoyed woman’s voice exclaimed, “Boo! Leave it!” Kitten meowed softly. The voice then changed like the wave of a wand. “Oh… kitty kitty! Just look at this poopsie!” A moment later, two hands scooped Kitten up.

Kitten became a real consolation to the old woman. She fussed over Kitten all the days and nights. She doted on Kitten. And… you know how it happens, yes? Their love was like butter of the herd, and milk of the sheep with the fat of lambs. Like the rams of the breed of Basan. And goats with the marrow of wheat. Drink like the purest blood of the grape. Blah, blah, blah…

And it was good.

Could you blame her? Me neither. Let who is without sin be the first to cast a stone. Love is a tricky thing and you should think twice before you scoop up a tiny kitten from your porch. Where lies the boundary between selfless care and careless selfishness? Whom do we love? Ourselves in the object of love, or the object of love in us? Little black kittens, who slept on your pillow, grow up and occupy your bedroom…

A boombox filled the air with the treacly backbeat of a musical. The digestive repose of a feline’s gastronomy must never be broken whate’er may befall.

That huge black Cat with coruscant fur lazily swayed in a rocking chair in front of the fireplace. The tiny grandma snuggled on his lap, snoring softly.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2016

Six Word Stories Omnibus: Volume Five

Time for more six word stories.
They were all written by you,
our dear readers. Oh my, yes!
We’ve finally posted them right here,
so don’t throat punch us, okay?
Such a long time to wait!

Story 1:
Six words can’t tell a story. 
Story 2:
What’s more, there isn’t enough substance.
by Sheldon Kleeman

Story 3:
Clever! Thanks for making me laugh.
by Daal Praderas

Story 4:
There IS peace in loveAmen!
by Rjoherman

Story 5:
I have a single porpoise tooth.
Story 6:
Tuna Safe Dolphin Meat is good.
Story 7:
“Please kill me,” my clone whispered.
Story 8:
I think these pills work fast.
Story 9:
My umbilical noose is too tight.
by Epic Fantasy

Story 10:
Sharks are nice. Hey, my arm!
by Phoenix Risen Poetry

Story 11:
Phew, what an interesting looking blog!
by Andy Smart

Story 12:
Love tried to take me alive.
by Kelly in ya Belly

Story 13:
“Where in Hell?” “Yes, you are.”
by Malakki

Story 14:
“Please don’t go.” “Don’t let me.”
Story 15:
She was a killer without heels.
Story 16:
The heart untied the mind’s knot.
by Nandita Yata

Story 17:
If you die then you’re mine.
by Dom

Story 18:
Give me a break. I’m dying.
Story 19:
Can’t you see? I am dead.
by Taizo

Story 20:
Am I a burden to reply?
by Lauren

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2016

Teti-à-Tête (With Tony) #5

crumble-cult-210

Tati as TATI

crumble-cult-106

Tony as TONY

YOU’RE HOT, BUT PLEASE
DON’T PISS ON ME

Morning was never going to just light up the room and leave it at that. Of course not. It was always going to lance between the curtains like a sexual predator and violate her right where she lay. Like it had every other morning of her life. God.

Tati tilted her head off the pillow. She squinted at the fuzzy-edged glare floating at the foot of her bed. She hated that window. It was in the wrong place. It looked like a white supremacist. Her head plopped back.

I’d better get up.

The birds seemed to agree. Chirp! Bloody chirp!

Maybe later.

“Tati.”

Okay, now they’re calling me. A bit odd that.

“Tati?”

Hell! How do they even know my name?

“Tati!”

Oh, please fuck off, birds.

“TATI!”

She imagined them with zippers on their beaks. If only.

“TETIANA!”

“WHAT?!”

An orifice formed in the wall to her right, and disgorged a human-sized blob. With something approaching vague alarm, Tati swiveled her head. Oh. It was a door. Oh. A human.

“I’m sorry, your Highness. Have I inconvenienced you by entering here? This room made holy by the mere presence of your sacrosanct self? And does my existence diminish—nay, blight—your exalted self in some inexpiable and unfortunate way?”

She grimaced. “Shut up.”

“Forgive me. Is it that time of the month again?”

Bolt upright now, a fiery Tati jabbed an accusing finger in the human’s general direction. “Oh my god, Tony! How many times should I repeat that ‘that time of the month’ doesn’t affect mood?!”

Tati’s blanket had fallen away. Oblivious to the fact that she was now topless, she swung her legs right and planted both feet on the floor. It was too early to be dealing with his shit.

Tony plucked his eyes from the dust where they’d fallen and polished them on his shirt sleeve.

“Like the time I hit you with a chair by accident. And I apologised by the way.”

Tony popped his eyes back in their sockets. “Yes,” he said with a sour face, “and then you proceeded not to call an ambulance for me. I had to drag my sorry, damaged arse to the public phone booth.” Noticing that Tati hadn’t bothered to cover herself up, he looked away. “Come to think of it, why the hell don’t we have a landline?”

“Do you cheat off?”

He blinked and looked back at her. “Oh. Now you’re changing the subject. Is that what this is?”

Tati yawned, stretching her arms wide, her chest all lovely and pointy. Red-faced, Tony looked away again.

“Do you cheat off?”

Tony hissed through his teeth, “What the hell do you mean… ‘cheat off’?” The wall was suddenly quite fascinating.

Tati stood up. “Cheat off. Like in school.” She grabbed a top from the side cabinet. “What? Have you never peeked into someone else’s notebook?”

“No, I was a good boy. I was always very well behaved in school!” He kept looking at the wall. “In fact, I’m being a good boy now.”

“Really? A good boy? Then why are some of your poems so similar to mine?” Tati slipped her top on. “You can look.”

Tony swung his gaze back. “Why do I seem to be as perverted as you?” His eyes darted quickly to her top, ensuring that it was in place and covering all the right bits. “That’s what you’re really saying, isn’t it?”

“Perverted?!” Tati was so cute whenever she cocked her head. She was doing it now, her antennae tilting too.

Tony studied the wall.

“Are you blushing?” She gave a sly little grin.

“Oh, come on now! What about that Moses story? That was pretty sick!” He was flushing redder than a stop sign. It felt strange to be making such a passionate case to a wall.

Tati shrugged. Or tried to. “I wish not talk about dildos now.”

Tony stole another look. “Erm.”

“Yes, and about Pokémons too.” She began to look around the room for something. She wasn’t sure what. And it was kind of difficult to do with her cephalothorax fusing her head and shoulders together. Perhaps a neck massage was in order.

“Erm.”

“DO NOT EVEN THINK!” Claws on her hips, Tati leveled beady, critical eyes at him.

“But… that’s not possible!” spluttered Tony.

“Okay. Think.” She waved him off dismissively. “But something more useful than winkles and augmented reality.”

“Well, there’s that discussion group you were telling me about the other day. What if I pretend I don’t know about it so you can tell me like it’s a piece of news I haven’t heard before?” He gestured at the webcam high up in the corner of the room. “You know, for the benefit of our readers.”

Tati looked at the tiny electronic eye with a curious detachment. Tony never could tell what she was thinking or feeling at any given time.

“Yes.”

He pushed his case. “And it can be like a proper conversation so it doesn’t seem like the scripted advertorial it so obviously is. A spontaneous chin wag between friends. Like in real life.”

Tati looked at him and smiled. A warm smile this time. “Well… in short, Mooreeffoc’ was picked up as a Book of September in Book Club (Young Adult Edition) on Goodreads.” Her smile deepened. “It is good. Yes?”

“Oh my, oh me! Really? I did not know! Thank you for imparting this most crucial piece of data, Tetiana! Pray tell, what more regarding this noteworthy event should we be informed of, darling dearest?”

Tati’s smile vanished. What the hell? He thinks this is pantomime?

Realising how foolish he looked, Tony’s puffed-out chest deflated quicker than a balloon at an asthmatics convention. His arms drooped to his sides and he stepped from the bed that he’d unconsciously mounted just moments before. He could be quite ‘method’ that way.

Mooreeffoc. September. Club. Young Adult. Goodreads,” Tati tutted. Through her mandibles. Her earlier smile had looked more inviting to be totally honest.

“Oh. Fine. It’s blatant sarcasm then. I see. Thank you so much.” Tony scratched his head, annoyed. “You’re not going to mention that our readers can follow various links within this text to join the Goodreads Book Club too? That they can join in on a discussion group about Mooreeffoc? That they can—for a limited time only—nab themselves a free copy right here? None of that?”

Tati shook her thick testaceous tail, ignoring this pointed yet somehow long winded remark. “Tony, get yourself busy!”

“Huh?”

“Book! Have you finished the cover for our other book? The new poetry book?”

“Oh, what, now we’re changing the subject again?”

Her tail was looking rather sexy though. He reached out to stroke it…

Morning lanced between the curtains like a sexual predator and violated him right where he lay. Like it had every other morning of his life. God.

Tony tilted his head off the pillow.

What the hell? Why did I dream that of all things?

He grimaced. “Good lord. I was about to have sex with a lobster.”

“What did you say?”

Startled, Tony whipped his eyes to the door. Tati was standing there. She’d heard everything.

THE END


N.B. For those who are still unsure of what we’re talking about, we’re trying to say: Don’t be shy! Let’s go! There are only five days left! Get your free copy of our first book ‘Mooreeffoc’! (Lobster not included.)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2016

Six Word Stories #10

Shaken, not stirred… Your order, Countess!

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2016

Six Word Stories #9

Báthory giggled. Those weren’t cherry chocolates.

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2016