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"Doctor", Parody of "Starman"Another lonely night in Leadworth by myself
Nothing to do, I was bored you know ow ow
This crack was scarin' me, something bout Prisoner Zero it said
Then a loud sound, then a man (not ginger)
Made me cook him up custard and fish fingers
That weren't no policeman, this was something much more weird
There's a Time Lord waiting in the sky
He's coming down to meet us
But I think he'll blow our minds
There's a Doctor waiting in the sky
He took me on his spaceship
Said he'd need me for a while
He tells me:
"I've heard children crying
To save them all I'm trying
And just this once, not lying."
He took me up and showed me everything ing ing
Left my fiancée and engagement ring ing ing
Met up with Van Gogh and with Winston Churchill too
I got pregnant, had a baby girl irl irl
She grew up and was then feared by every world orld orld
She was my best friend too, now tell me, is that not right?
So I'm Amy, floating through the sky
Then Rory came to meet us
But he always seems to die
So we're h
Watched by a godA god sat on his throne of clouds and observed the world beneath him. This was one of his least favourite planets, a pathetic little blob of green and blue in an old-fashioned section of the universe. He didn't know why he'd chosen to watch them, barely paying attention, the way they watched their televisions.
The inhabitants had named it Earth, but it was known by a much more offensive name in ethereal circles.
The natives here, a mostly sapient race called humans, had messed up. Many planets had races that had failed, but few had failed as dramatically as the humans. While other cultures explored the limits of knowledge and scientific advancement, humans had apparently given up, inventing instead a billion and one ways to amuse themselves without achieving anything worthwhile.
The slacker species of the universe a species predisposed to play.
Last time the god had watched here, the humans had just worked out exactly what gravity was and how it worked. It was hardly a mystery b
Xanthic LightAlice and Edward stepped closer together, examining one another in the streetlight. Both of them had aged since they'd last seen one another and looked curiously the same but so different.
"Can you believe it's been fifteen years?" Edward said, raising his hand to stroke Alice's hair.
"Don't," she said. "Edward, please don't do this."
"Fifteen years," he said again. "Great Scott, you can't tell me that the feelings aren't still there, even after all this time." He begged her to agree with him.
"I can't," she said, refusing to look at him now he was so close. Just run, she thought. Kicking herself inside, she wondered why she had agreed to see him. Love didn't fade, even after all this time.
"Maybe I should just go," she said.
"No," he said, firmly. "Oh please, don't go. Please, I made such a mistake when I left you. Queen of my heart, forever and a day." Roaring cars passed them on the bridge, a few of them wondering who the two people were chatting over the water. She wished she had j
Deceased - IIIDying hurts, and don't let anyone tell you any different. People bang on about how, "Oh, he died peacefully in his sleep" and shit like that but don't believe a word of it. OK, my death was violent anyway nothing prepares you for being catapulted through a windscreen but I've spoken to people up here who've died in their sleep and apparently it's no less painful. It's something to do with the soul having to be ripped from the body "ripped" being the key word here.
On the whole though, once you've gone through that, it's actually quite peaceful. I thought I'd be worrying non-stop about the people I've left behind but as it turns out, I'm not. That's not to sound selfish, it's just that once I'm up here, there's nothing I can do about them. Well, OK, so I can help one person, but you don't get any choice in the matter.
Everyone's a guardian angel up here, see. You die, you cover someone's back until the time they're destined to die, making sure they don't pop it firs
Painter - IIWith Josh gone, I don't know what to do anymore. I know we were together for just eleven months, but it felt so right. I guess it always feels right at the beginning if it didn't, you wouldn't press on. Art is my final class of the day but I'm not really with it. We're supposed to be painting the still life in front of us a mish-mash of fabrics, fruit, stuffed birds and the top half of a mannequin but my mind isn't on it. Everyone has made some progress but I still have a pure white canvas staring back at me.
I pick up a paintbrush and continue to think about Josh. It's been a week now. I had a few days off school for it but because I'm not family or anything, I can't get compassionate leave or anything. I've just got to press on. It's hard to think of him laughing and joking now I've seen him with his blood and brains smeared across the front of his car. My leg still twinges a bit from where it was caught under the dashboard, but it's not severely damaged.
Grapevine - IYou'll never guess what I heard! No, wait, I mean it! I shouldn't even really be gossiping about it but I had to tell someone. Do you remember Pete? You know, Pete thingy? The one who was going out with Tina but they broke up when she slept with his brother? You must remember! Think back, it was huge news like, last month. No, two months ago. I don't know. Yeah?
No, well anyway, you remember his mate Duncan? Oh you must know! You'd know him if you saw him he's the one who got really wasted at Anne's eighteenth? Jumped on the table and declared himself King of the Lesbians? Long hair? Anyway, never mind him, it's his brother, Josh. You have to remember Josh! That's right, the one who spent last Hallowe'en making eyes at you and your pumpkin costume. Totally hot.
Anyway, yeah, you'll never guess what happened! He was out driving with his girlfriend Becky you must know Becky and anyway, what they're saying is that he swerved to avoid a deer and crashed and he's dead.
I wake up.I wake up.
I'm on a dark desert highway and I don't remember how I got here. There are a few stars in the sky but no moon and not enough light to guide me. I reach into my pockets and pull out a torch, but with nothing for the light to bounce off, I cannot tell how far I am from anything.
I begin to walk, and I walk for several hours, or maybe days, or maybe just a couple of minutes. I arrive at a house with lights burning from every window. I knock on the door and the wood sounds like metal. There is a clank and a clang and the door opens slightly.
An old woman's face looks out at me. She screams something in a language I don't understand and I feel a bullet lodge itself in my lung. I choke and I wake up
I'm leaning against a set of lockers in my school corridor and I don't remember how I got here. It's after hours, still light outside but the school is empty. I walk down the corridor, which seems longer than I remember. It takes an hour to reach the door at the end. It's locked
Letter To The Future21st July 2010
To Whom It May Concern:
If you have found this letter, congratulations. I am writing this in the year 2010 and hopefully, nuclear war permitting, it will have reached you in the year 2110. The language I am writing in is English which, while I assume will still be a dominant language in one hundred years time, may have been killed off by the Chinese.
2110 sounds so futuristic, but once upon a time 2010 sounded like that, yet here I am. It's weird to think that this year is now history to you, the way we look back at 1910 and think they were a bit backwards. You probably think that about us.
It's 41 years since humans first landed on the moon (unless that has since proved to be a hoax) and we've currently no signs of heading into space again. They keep talking about it, but there's nothing happening. I hope we're on the moon by the time you read this. Hopefully you've got to Mars by now. Maybe you're reading this on Mars!
Are there aliens yet? The closest we get is Doctor
Excerpt: 2117The first noise I heard in one hundred years was a gentle hiss. I felt dizzy and realised that I was lying on cool marble table wearing only shorts. There was a mask over my mouth, feeding me oxygen. I turned my head gently to the side and noticed that the mask was connected to a tube, which fed down into a small glass dome. Inside the dome was what appeared to be a bonsai rainforest.
What I presumed to be a clock was on the wall just above it, although it was hard to tell. It had no hands but instead four circles of various sizes were in place beneath the numbers, one of them ticking with what I presumed were seconds. One was moving too fast to be properly seen.
The hissing continued, very faintly. I wanted to sit up but I quickly realised that my wrists and ankles were fastened to the table, although I could feel no fastening at all. It was almost like I'd been magnetised and stuck to the fridge.
I heard a door open and someone entered the room, and at the same time, the oxygen mask
mini fic - Mariand visita al psicologo una tarde en el consultorio de psicologia...
Doctor: toma asiento y siéntate por favor
Doctor: ¿como te llamas?
Doctor: ¿mariand que?
M: ¡que pepinos le importa!
Doctor: bueno, ¿que te trae por aquí?
M: mis amigas me obligaron sobre mi voluntad ¬¬
Doctor: te noto molesta...
M: ¡no quería venir!
Doctor: bueno, bueno, te haré algunas preguntas ¿de acuerdo?
M: como quiera...
Doctor: dime algo que odies
M: que los peces de cece entren a mi cuarto
Doctor: como podrían entrar peces a tu cuarto O_o
M: pues en una pecera ¿no?
Doctor: de acueerdo, que mas
M: emm, bueno en general, que cualquier ser viviente entre a mi cuarto
Doctor: ¿alguna de tus compañeras lo ah hecho?
M: no creo que les convenga hacerlo
Doctor: ¿tienes mascotas mariand?
M: si, una serpiente llamada fraude y un gato llamado chesstre :3
Doctor: una ¿s-sepiente?
M: sii... *habla pausadamente*
Nothing But FrustrationNothing works
My head just wont work right tonight
No rhythm flows with what I compose
My rhymes just don't work out sometimes
Nothing to read
Nothing to sing
The songs I sing just have no ring
Nothing to do
Nothing to say
Everything I say is just too cliché
Nothing to write
Nothing to blend
Blend is just stupid so this is the end
How To Be A LadyBe kind and gentle
Remember! Nothing is accidental.
Remember all the little things
Never dip your feet, even in the most gentle of springs.
Never neglect your gentleman callers
No matter how much he hollers.
Your voice must be soft and gentle
Loud noises are vile and considered mental.
Never take wine with your afternoon tea
And a lady should never beg or plea.
Cloths should always be perfect, skirts never distraught
A parasol brought whenever it is hot.
No matter how rich, always act humble
And a lady, would never fumble.
A lady should always know when to use each fork
and how to eat her pork.
Always remember to lower your head
When greeted by another, even one you dread.
Now, remember your manners and never make a racket
or you might end up in a straight jacket.
blind justicecaught in the act
a selfie to boot
should not have posed
so close to the loot
darn social media
a souvenir is fine
but don't show the whole world
who committed the crime
when all the evidence
is so easy to find
only hope that justice
will truly be blind
A Case of Identity: James WindibankA/N: By Jove!" he continued, flushing up at the sight of the bitter sneer upon the man's face, "it is not part of my duties to my client, but here's a hunting crop handy, and I think I shall just treat myself to--"
“Mr. James Windibank,
Those who play games of sin we spank.”
Holmes raises his hunting crop…
“Oh, is that the time? I mustn’t stop!”
(wild clatter of steps upon the stairs)
ET Go HomeET Go Home
For days and days, the sky was dark
Lightning flashed here and there
There was more than electricity in the air
But though it was a signal "Hark"
Most folks seemed not to care
A war of worlds was still remote
For Herbert Wells once wrote
That the aliens landed in Britain
Still, there was tension in the air
But now the tension has ended, friends
And we are alone
ET go home
ClaraNo te conozco
No he hablado contigo
Este poema es forzado
No sale de mis entrañas
Eres una mujer invisible
Culpa a Lord Maiden.
Si nos conociéramos
Sería sincero este mensaje.
Todo se hizo a la inversa
Debía conocerte primero
Y hacer esa composición.
La vida es tan extraña
Da rarezas como esta
Insisto en mi mensaje
Bad InternetOh browser, oh broadband, why are you so cruel?
You load and you buffer, more stubborn than a muel.
And then when you finally get the video so sweet,
It turns out the film is in just 144p.
I tried with a dongle, that new one from three,
But lag and slow loads, Nowt but latency
The cable is dangling, making trip hazards three,
Oh why did I not just stay with old BT
Fibre optics, I cried, my mind all askew
It's flashy and good, and it's also quite new
With expectation and fun, I plugged it all in,
But the speed was so bad, I tossed it in bin.
Sod it! I yelled, tears streamed down my face,
Obviously the computer was never my place,
I cried, and I screamed for the cost, it was debt
All of this from my crap-shite internet.
Peter Quint At His Excruciation [bdsm][after Henry James' tale, "The Turn Of The Screw"]
". . . Concealed imaginings . . ."
---Wallace Stevens, "Peter Quince At The Clavier"
Your lover died---pregnant with your next bastard.
Yet, when you had been told, you said no more
than one word, and the harshest profanation
one could have chosen at that moment, "Whore."
Such callous disregard you have well mastered
in your jackbooted, leathered, dominance.
But you have preyed upon our ladies once
too often, and my daughter is too young
to recognize the lies your smooth, glib tongue
has ladled. Sought consent?---no, still coercion
when brought to bear with such polished persuasion,
much practiced to the uttermost evasion
of truth in the advance of your perversion.
This night's events will likely take your breath
away (what a bon mot) until your death
you beg. A stone's collision with your skull
will bring the public verdict of a fall---
one of those random, fatal accidents.
Other remaining marks as evidence,
will not be noted by
Ode to Magikarp
Magikarp with fins so white
Yellow crown, face froze in fright
On the end of every fishing rod
And for evolution, thou are most odd
In battle you are detrimental
You cause great losses, drives us mental
But reach a level past nineteen
And you're a wonder to be seen
For Gyarados, your new name is
In battle, a much stronger fizz
But every trainer stoops to beg
Why can't Gyarados alone come from the egg?
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