Tag Archives: Tetiana Aleksina

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

or: EPISODE 4 // Where Tati Rescues Tony’s Suitcase

In our previous episode, Tati and Tony tried to disguise themselves as a pair of famous videogame plumbers after meeting at the Greater Cachalot Mall in international waters. Little did they realise that something dodgy was happening right behind them…

Right in front of their very eyes was a mysterious man in black, and he was trying to make off with one of Tony’s suitcases. Tati didn’t even need to think. She immediately dug into her pants pocket and withdrew a mint lollipop. In one smooth over-the-shoulder movement, she lobbed it at the man in black and hit him squarely between the eyes. He crumpled to the ground like a tarpaulin full of bricks.

“You! Hey, you!” Tati lightly kicked him with the tip of her shoe. “Are you alive?”

“What the hell?!” hissed Tony like a goose. “There’s no need to sink the boot in! Isn’t it enough that you knocked him down?! What was that anyway? A candy cannonball? Jesus!”

Tati stood there confused. She thought she had done the right thing. “It was just a lollipop I bought in Zhmerynka’s Duty Free. Do you think it could be expired, and that’s why it’s so hard?”

“Either that or it’s got a tiny anchor in the middle of it.” Tony kneeled beside the man in black. “He’s out cold.”

“No, look, he’s coming around.”

The mysterious man in black opened his eyes, but the sight of two squabbling Mario brothers made him go faint again. And who could blame him? Anyone in his place would have done the same. One brother was strangely effeminate, and the other had two moustaches, one of which was stuck to his brow.

“Nope. He’s out again.”

Tati looked around. “We need a bucket of water.”

“What? Are we gonna drown him now? I think the guy’s had enough!”

Losing patience, Tati shrugged her shoulders then grabbed the man in black by his shirt front. She yanked him into a sitting position. “Who are you?” she growled to his face. “Why were you stealing Tony’s suitcase?”

“I don’t think he can hear you, Tati.”

Tati pulled a vial of acetone from her other pocket.

Tony regarded her with a not unwarranted degree of suspicion. “Erm, why are you carrying stuff like that with you? And how the hell did you get it through customs?”

Tati gave an annoyed tut. “Don’t ask questions you wouldn’t like the answers to!” And, with that, she shoved the vial right into the man in black’s nose. With an almighty fit of spluttering and coughing, he opened eyes.

“Good sir,” asked Tony politely, “could you please let us know why you need my suitcase?”

Before the man in black could respond, Tati shouted, “I’d just like to know who the fuck died and left you stealing other people’s suitcases!”

The man in black whispered, “Please, don’t kill me, mighty Mario brothers. Let me live and I’ll reveal a big secret to you.”


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

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

ACROSTIC POETRY // Droid Antediluvian

Perambulation is something that featured a lot in Iron Uncle’s
Upbringing. His travelling oilcan never once dried up.
Rarely did his joints give out or his suspension develop clanky carbuncles.
Geez, he skipped up hill and down dale like a pumped-up pup!
And did you know he could bench press a thousand Tiny Tins if he really wanted to?
Tinderellas were thrilled with his seductive cast-iron buns.
Oh, if only he could return to those halcyon days and youth anew,
Rekindle what used to be instead of chased for conversion by rumpty nuns.
Years roll past like parts on a conveyor belt, and rust never sleeps.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

Open-Source Poetry Two #3

Dear Readers,

Honestly, how many of you have read Shakespeare? You don’t need to be embarrassed or lie and pretend. We’ve barely read Shakespeare ourselves! We keep meaning to but… well, we never seem to find the time. Sad but true.

Tati could say, “To be or not to be…” with a nerdy look, but if you asked her to continue, she’d probably mess up the next line. And Tony… well, Tony loves skulls and drama but that wouldn’t make him the next Prince of Denmark. All he’d be able to utter is, “Verily!” Pathetic really.

So, when all’s said and done, it’s a good thing we’re not writing Shakespeare. No, we’re simply writing a little poem with the help of our Dear Readers. That’s what we’re doing! And we do love that you make us giddy with the excitement of creating.

By the way, a big thank you goes to Fraggle for the next line! Fraggle, our dearest and faithful friend, you rock! Yes, we’re trying to be impartial here but we have to admit that we liked your contribution best. Oh, and why did you make us read about Lady Ophelia? Poor girl! She had a rough trot, didn’t she!

It’s clear that no one informed Ophelia of the rules to this poetry-making game. Let us remind you, Dear Readers, so that you don’t meet a similar fate…

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!

Please, Dear Readers, pretty please (with a cherry on top), let’s have a happy ending for this poem? Failing that, let’s at least screw Hamlet the fuck up and make a Disney musical from it!

Вензель

She looks in the book like into a mirror
The face of her sister is there
She wears daffodils in her hair

She reminds her of Shakespeare’s Ophelia
Amid weeping willows along the shore

Вензель_нижний

by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLE, THOM TNKERR & FRAGGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

CRUMBLE CULT // Slouching from Bethlehem (NSFW)

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

CALIXIAN // Ranting Up the Wazoo

I am in a crappy mood. That’s why I’ve decided to kill Darwin this very day. Somehow. And quirkily.

I’m wandering around in the shed when I stumble upon a dusty, old megaphone. This could be exactly what I need! “Darwin, baby, come here! I have something for you.” I can barely contain my glee.

Darwin’s tumbled head pops in at the door. He’s looking at me with curiosity. It’s definitely one of his best traits. He’s as curious as a kitten. I crook my finger at him, beckoning him closer. Darwin enters the shed.

I take my time. I want to savor the pleasure. I smear half a bottle of grease over Darwin’s mop then meticulously comb it back. Then I pick the nastiest tie I can find from a dingy, old wardrobe in the corner of the shed. Yes, the orange tie with the big blue hot-dogs. That should do it.

Darwin twists and turns before the mirror on the wardrobe door, giggling. He obviously thinks it’s a funny role-playing game. Perhaps he’s now imagining that I’ll put on a nurse’s costume, or dress like Harley Quinn, or like a big violet papulose lobster. Frankly, I neither know nor care what this pervert daydreams about.

I take another look at him. Darwin is smiling like a brewer’s horse. He’s shining like a spit-and-polished samovar. I don’t recall him ever being this happy, and certainly not since that time he won ten measly greens in bingo. I feel something approaching a light pang of conscience, but I shake it off. I have to finish this game.

I need a finishing touch. I survey the shed interior before noticing a shabby leather suitcase in another corner. Perfect! Feeling like real Pygmalion, I thrust it into Darwin’s hand and take a step back to admire my handiwork for a moment. It’s unbelievable but Darwin looks even worse than he usually does. Is that even possible? It seems that, yes, it is.

Darwin shoots me a questioning look, waiting for whatever’s next. I push a megaphone into his arms, give him a wink in return, then abruptly push him outside. I slam the door. Right before his nose. Take that!

Darwin knocks insistently, begging to be let in, but not for too long. Curiosity killed the cat, I suppose. I know that a protest movement on the next street over will soon catch his attention. And I know that he always jumps at the chance to rant about his favorite topics, especially now that he has the megaphone and some sympathetic listeners around.

There’s a knock at the door.

Darwin’s tumbled head pops into my bedroom. I barely have time to minimize my window.

“Calix, dinner’s ready. Come and get it!”

“Sure.”

By the time I’m leaving the bedroom, the Sim Darwin is standing on the suitcase, shouting frothily into the megaphone. “Death is supposed to be the last, great refuge for troubled minds!” he squawks. “From ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and into the big black!” His face is flushed. The tie hung loose. Darwin is as cute and convincing as Lenin on the armored car in 1917.

Meanwhile, the Grim Reaper stands just around a nearby corner, wry faced and skittishly rubbing a scythe. He doesn’t like anyone ranting about death too much, you know.

I step into the kitchen and give Darwin the biggest smile I can muster.

“What do we have for dinner?”

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2018