BUT IS IT POETRY? // the last mission (fel-de-se)

bird pierced horizon
somewhere between trees and clouds
spilling rainy nails

a man in a hood
hopes to join them tomorrow
stuffing a nail bomb

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TONY: So, Tati, are you advocating terrorism now?

TATI: Huh?

TONY: A man in a hood stuffing a nail bomb. That’s pretty potent imagery right there, my friend.

TATI: And where’s the logic, my friend? Is everything I see something I advocate and enjoy? Is this the case for you?

TONY: Well, no, but I didn’t write a poem about it. It seems like something that was on your mind at least…

TATI: But you write about masturbating and depression. I don’t think you’re fan of such activities.

TONY: I’m a fan of one of them, but yeah, I take your point. So, what was your intention when you wrote this poem then?

TATI: A fan? Do you like depressive shit?

TONY: You’re dodging the question. No fair!

TATI: And everyone pretends that they don’t get you’re a fist fucker.

TONY: Ahem. I think we were talking about you and terrorism, not my sexual proclivities!

TATI: Next question, Jerry.

TONY: My name’s not Jerry!

TATI: Gosh, Oprah, you’re as dull as a holey galosh.

TONY: Oh, thank you so very much. That’s a lovely goddam thing to say! Jesus.

TATI: A galosh in glasses.

TONY: Fine. I’m a galosh in fucking glasses. This interview is over!

TATI: Really? Okay, Oprah. Then till next time, take care of yourselves and each other!

TONY: Jerry Springer signs off with that. Not Oprah! And there’s only one of me here!

TATI: Aw, boo hoo hoo! Go to Oprah!

TONY: What the hell?! Tati, are you stuck between TV channels?

TATI: Shall I punch you goodbye?

TONY: What’s gotten into you lately? You’ve been acting like a… well, a terrorist!

TATI: Aw, Tony, don’t you see I’m trying to raise our readership? Your dull interviewing technique would send even my grandma to sleep in two seconds flat!

TONY: Oh, so you’re proposing to thump each other over the head with our chairs, is that right? That’s your grand solution?!

TATI: And what is your proposition?

TONY: I don’t know. None of this has gone the way I planned. I think I might just go and take a nap.

TATI: Typical Tony!

TONY: What? What have I done now?

TATI: Just go. Meanwhile, I will think of the next ‘But is it Art?’ questions.

TONY: Don’t expect me to be a cooperative interviewee then. Feh!

Dear readers, don’t touch that dial… and stay tuned for more!

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

THE CRUMBCAST // Unremarkable Words (But They’re Mine)

As promised, I’m back with a new episode of The Crumbcast.

Believe me, I haven’t  been wasting time. In fact, I’ve been doing a lot of work on me. I’ve been moulding myself into a blue-eyed, muscle-bound adonis with curly, golden hair and a honeyed voice that will make your ears orgasm. I’ve been learning French, Argentine tango and how to poach eggs. (Steal ’em or cook ’em?)

Okay, now that I’m the worthy hero of your dreams, you ladies can start showering me with your lacy panties. And you blokes too, if you’re that way inclined. Hell, I belong on the cover of romance novels everywhere! Someone give me a book deal!

What? You don’t believe me? You say I’m still a sad old sap with wild hair, spindly limbs and a pot belly? That even my voice makes crows want to nosedive into a field of landmines? That my writings are your worst nightmare? Not to mention the quality of my eggs…

Ahem.

Okay, fine. So I’m still the same me I’ve always been. It isn’t easy to please everybody. And I only become a parody of my already absurd self whenever I try to. Living up to the expectations of others is definitely not recommended, and that’s something I touch on in this episode.

Anyway, I’m back, and I kinda hope y’all have missed me… even if just a little bit.

PS: To listen to the podcast in question then please click on that picture down there. To view the comic strip that my rambling centres around, then please click here. Yes, it’s real magic in the digital world, I tells ya! No pesky sciencey stuff here!

 

by TONY SINGLE (with help from TETIANA ALEKSINA)
© All rights reserved 2019

MMORPB // Tati & Tony in Raiders of the Lost Snark Part Seven (Moderately Multiplayer Online Role Playing Book 18+)

or: EPISODE 7 // Where Tati Cocks the Hamster and Tony Watches

 

In our previous episode, Tati whipped out a magic umbrella and facilitated hers and Tony’s escape from the scene of a horrific… well, it wasn’t a crime per se, more like a very unfortunate incident for the now very dead mysterious man in black. Naturally, they forgot Tony’s suitcases in the kerfuffle, and were now debating whether or not they should return to retrieve them…

“…because they contain my stash of hamster porn. God, I hope no one manages to get one open. I can already feel the shame!”

Tati snorted. “‘Mr Fleek ‘Puffy Cheek’ & His Lewd BBW Wifey’? ‘Crazy Hawaii Weekend in the Boom Chicka Wheel Wow of Love’, huh?”

“Okay okay!” hissed Tony with embarrassment. “Keep your voice down, would you?”

“‘Hamster Bros Doin’ Doxies Fur Dog Style’?”

“Look, I don’t have that issue, okay? It got lost somewhere a while ago.”

Tati felt Tony shudder involuntarily. The memory of such a loss seemed to trouble him deeply.

“Hey!” he suddenly beamed. “Does that mean you happen to have a copy of your own?”

Tati blushed momentarily, but then quickly regained her usual look of jaded scorn.

“Are you an idiot?” she sneered. “I joke, of course. I had no idea that this existed. You’re a dirty weirdo!”

Tony looked disappointed. “That was a pretty good guess then!”

“I wonder which direction the wind is blowing today…”

Tati fidgeted with the trigger on the umbrella handle, demonstrating her complete indifference towards the hamster porno industry. Tony looked at her with suspicion. It was obvious that she was trying to change the topic, but he figured it’d be better if he didn’t challenge her on this. At least not now while she was gripping him by the shirt collar some one hundred feet above the ground.

“So,” he said carefully, “where are we going to go? We’re fugitives now!”

Tati ignored him, continuing to fiddle with the trigger. Now she looked genuinely concerned, her fake moustache trembling in the wind like a bad omen. Okay, now it was time to worry, and so that’s what Tony did.

“Erm…” he squeaked. “Is everything okay?”

“Just shut up, OK? I’m trying to cock this fucking hamster.”

Tony blinked. “What?”

“Oh, hell!” spat Tati. “Damn you and your sexual preferences! I meant ‘cock the hammer’ of course! Not the hamster! This fucking umbrella doesn’t work!”

Then there was a sudden gust of wind. It slapped into them from the side, nearly wrenching Tony from Tati’s grasp. He shrieked with fear, tightening his hold on her.

“We’re gonna die!”

 

Catch other episodes in this series:
THE PILOT // Where Tati Makes Tony Blush
EPISODE 2 // Where Tati Makes Tony Choke
EPISODE 3 // Where Tati Gives Tony a Fungus Face
EPISODE 4 // Where Tati Rescues Tony’s Suitcase
EPISODE 5 // Where Tati Grabs Tony’s Shirt
EPISODE 6 // Where Tati Supercalifragilisticexpialidociouses Tony to New Heights

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

the spark of life (headshot)

fear the gawking dead
they look without seeing
but it’s the gawking alives
who see without looking
that are way scarier

so kill me if you please
headshot me into a sense of life
trigger my release

force is no answer
raised fists only make more
and reason is empty talk
i can no longer bear this
please bury me under a socle

so kill me if you please
headshot me into a sense of life
trigger my release

and if i do arise
from the grave pyres of alives
i pledge to rub my wild eyes
then look you full on face
not eat it, only feast my ravenous heart

so kill me if you please
headshot me into a sense of life
trigger my release

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019

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