Tag Archives: Tony Single

BUT IS IT ART? // Unsung Beauty

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This was supposed to be another ‘But is it Art?’, but it didn’t quite turn out that way.

As always, Tati came to the party in a pugnacious mood, ready to smash Tony with her witty questions. And, boy, did she ever! They discussed women’s bodies and women’s rights. They even discussed Greek mythology and Tony’s childhood. (One could almost say that these sound pretty similar, at least whenever Tony talks about his childhood.)

During the discussion Tati called Tony ‘a misogynist creep’ and Tony called Tati ‘a good egg’. They used the word ‘fuck’ one time, and the word ‘breast’ three times. Tati even taught Tony a new word. Yep. ‘Litotes’.

Well, anyway…

The post was ninety percent ready, but then suddenly this pain in the ass that is called ‘Tati’ declared that everything discussed so far was bullshit. She claimed that actually there was nothing to discuss and that they were wasting their time. Tony nearly broke down crying. (Okay, he actually did.)

So, what did Tati then do? She scribbled a short poem and ran away. When Tony finished blubbering and dried his manly tears, he read the poem…

…then cried some more. Such beautiful sentiments! Tati did have a warm, beating heart full of emotions after all! Aw! Tony decided to run this on the blog anyway. (And began to plot his revenge for the next ‘But is it Poetry?’ discussion.)

ВензельMedusa (asps lick her tears away)

a comb has lost its cuspids
a myth has lost its essence
a maiden is stuck between
youth and senescence
Вензель_нижний

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

Oops!… We Did It Again (larisa)

Erm… hullo there. (This is rather awkward…)

Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.

We have done this because said stuff has since been included in one of our published books. We hope you’ll believe us when we say we’re not trying to be stingy. No, this has been done to honour the people who have already spent their hard-earned money on our eBook creations.*

If, however, for some reason you’re unable to buy one of our books, and feel you’ll die without seeing this piece of writing, then please contact us via admin@unbolt.me. We won’t allow our Dear Readers to fade away in the dark. We’ll send you the piece in question, and it will be absolutely free. All you need do is ask.

* Of course, we would be like two happy puppies if you too decided to buy one of our books.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

DARWINIAN // Circle of Life

Look, I get it. A bus timetable isn’t a binding contract or anything but I’d dearly appreciate it if the sodding drivers would stop fart-arsing me around. I’m convinced they’ve all conspired against me. How else would you explain what’s happening here?

Seriously, whenever I’m early, they’re late. Whenever I’m on time, they’re early. Whenever I’m late, they’re on time. Is this some kind of joke? Are their contrary little minds jacked into one central hive mentality decreeing that this Darwin chap mustn’t be allowed to get anywhere stress-free ever? How do they even know when I’m at the damn stop? CCTV? No, there isn’t any CCTV. Well, as far as I can see anyway…

I feel like a right goose as I stand here trying to type on my mobile phone, the cars whizzing past my self-conscious self. This godawful touch keyboard! Was it made for human beings or fucking pixies? Wouldn’t you think the manufacturer could have included a stylus or something? Of course you would. So would I. But they’re not us. They don’t consider the needs of us mere mortals. That’s not what they do. We pay for what we get and nothing more. Frankly, it’s a First World privilege to be using our giant, stubby forefingers to thwack clumsy smears of not-quite-predictive text all over our tiny screens, and they know it. We all know it. My white middle-class guilt is quite adept at making me shut up and put up with all kinds of shit.

How the hell is ‘contrary’ anything like ‘dairy’?

And suddenly I’m off thinking about American highways. The other day, Calix was telling me that they’re paved with an odd mix of stuff: asphalt, recycled tyres, and hospital waste. Why is that factoid popping into my head unbidden? Is it because I’m standing on the side of a busy road, watching a Vespa narrowly miss a Bond lookalike? She loves bringing up weird shit like this. I usually do my best bobblehead impression, nodding along to whatever Calix says, and wondering if these alleged ‘factoids’ are even halfway true.

I should text her. Let her know I’m going to be late. Ah, sod it. She’ll find out I’m late when I get there. Tumours, severed limbs, other bodily organs… bus. I guess a lot of Americans splat on highways at any given opportunity, eager to donate their good selves to the advancement of the automobile. It’s the circle of life, baby. All terribly pointless and wasteful. Thank god for America. Thank god I don’t live there.

Oh, shit! Was that the bus? Fuck! Shit!

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

Oops!… We Did It Again (is this what you wanted (apologies to leonard))

Erm… hullo there. (This is rather awkward…)

Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.

We have done this because said stuff has since been included in one of our published books. We hope you’ll believe us when we say we’re not trying to be stingy. No, this has been done to honour the people who have already spent their hard-earned money on our eBook creations.*

If, however, for some reason you’re unable to buy one of our books, and feel you’ll die without seeing this piece of writing, then please contact us via admin@unbolt.me. We won’t allow our Dear Readers to fade away in the dark. We’ll send you the piece in question, and it will be absolutely free. All you need do is ask.

* Of course, we would be like two happy puppies if you too decided to buy one of our books.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

Teti-à-Tête (With Tony) #9

crumble-cult-210

Tati as TATI

crumble-cult-106

Tony as TONY

ACT 23 SCENE 2
BELLY FLOP

Tati is hanging upside down in gravity boots. Tony looks on while eating from a plate of pumpkin scones.

TONY: Are the stomach crunches really necessary?

TATI: Are whipped cream and chocolate drops really necessary?

Tony stops mid-chew.

TONY: Well, that just ruined it all for me.

Flecks of scone, whipped cream and chocolate dribble from his mouth.

TATI: Look at yourself, Tony! Soon your tummy will come into the room before you.

TONY: No it won’t!

He self-consciously sucks his tummy in. Tati looks at him, firstly with a smile but then with concern.

TATI: Exhale, Tony!

Tony lets out a huge whoosh of air and crumbs.

TONY: Damn. I wasn’t going to be able to keep that up for long. Maybe some kind of girdle might be in order…

Tati rolls her eyes and resumes her upside down stomach crunches. Tony keeps watching.

TONY: Could you please plant your feet back on the ground, Tati? I feel like I’m talking to a giant, talking fruit bat.

TATI: I thought you were used to quirky fauna, Tony?

TONY: It’s not that. I’m exhausted just watching you!

TATI: Kangaroos, koalas, chupacabras… they’re your neighbours, aren’t they?

TONY: Not really. It’s not like I live out in the bush or anything. I’m a city dweller. I prefer to hang out at cafes sipping glasses of cool inexpensive water, not from billabongs.

TATI: Snoozefest! Fine, I’ll climb down.

Tati disengages the safety lock, slips out of her gravity boots and flips onto the floor. She looks at Tony with a peculiar, knowing smile as she dusts herself off.

TATI: I debated with myself if I should land on your tummy.

TONY: Oh, ha ha. Very funny.

Tati grabs the last scone from the plate and bites into it, ignoring Tony’s silent protests.

TONY: Well, too bad if I wanted that, huh?

Tati slaps Tony’s tummy, making it jiggle like jelly on a plate.

TATI: Be grateful I saved you from bursting, fill-belly.

TONY: Hey! My tummy may be big but it’s also quite sensitive. It’s where I write from!

TATI: What? Do you stenograph your growling stomach? Now it’s clear where all this weird stuff comes from! Ladies and Gentlemen, permit me to introduce the gastric wonders of Tony’s poetry to you!

TONY: What I’m trying to say is that I write from my feelings, not my head! I think with my gut!

TATI: Ah hah! I supposed something like this. Have you never tried to use your brain for the creative process?

Tati taps Tony’s forehead with her half-eaten scone.

TONY: I have but it’s not for me. I need to feel what I’m writing about. I’m more emotional than rational.

TATI: Is that why you put your shirt on arsy-varsy? Is it how you feel today?

TONY: I’m feeling a little belittled right now, I have to say…

TATI: Is it heartburn, Tony? Because no one can gobble a tonne of scones and escape unpunished.

Tati shoves the rest of the scone into her mouth. Her eyes bulge slightly as she hiccups.

TATI: Tony, do you have water?

Tony grins like a Cheshire Cat.

TONY: Who’s thinking with their gut now?

TATI: It’s because of your fucking scone!

TONY: I didn’t force you to eat one. Did you see a note anywhere saying: ‘Eat Me!’?

TATI: Tony, I swear, if you don’t give me something with the label ‘Drink Me!’… I… HIC! Will… HIC! Kick… HIC! Your…

Tony throws a mocking look at the hiccupping Tati.

TONY: My arse feels great, thanks for asking. Unlike yours.

TATI: My ass is fine… HIC!

TONY: This is just too funny.

TATI: Shut up… HIC!

TONY: I’m afraid I can’t. I’m feeling too smug and superior in the correctness of my position to be stopping right now. Heh heh…

TATI: Screw you… HIC!

TONY: I don’t want to lose this opportunity to be listened to uninterrupted by you, smart arse.

Tony then paces around the helpless, hiccupping Tati, giving a long-winded declamation on the creative process.

TONY: …and I insist that the only writing of any substance can only ever come from the heart, not the head.

An unhappy Tati is unable to object… HIC! She waves him off and leaves the room. Tony pulls out a bottle of water.

TONY: Methinks it’s time to wet me whistle…

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018