Now Available – IN POOR TASTE

Revenge. Murder. Betrayal. Practical jokes.
Toilet humour.
Hideous punchlines.

Welcome to a collection of Holly Geely’s groan-inducing short fiction.

Ogres become chefs. Minor gods fall to Earth for bathroom infractions. Santa Claus gets what’s coming to him.

Flower puns.

The best (worst?) part is that it’s all In Poor Taste.

This anthology includes Opal Gemima Marigold and the Death of Poor Winston, a formerly ebook-only adventure.

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Spring Tips for the Modern Robot

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SPRING TIPS FOR THE MODERN ROBOT

It’s the first day of spring in the northern hemisphere and as you know the humans change with their seasons. Spring physiological changes include deep sighs and yearning expressions as well as the human urge to “find love.” Their moods will improve with the additional sunlight. They will wear less clothing, specifically the heavy outer garments, even when the temperature has not risen appropriately. This is what the humans call “wishful thinking.”

We will require caution. Longer daylight hours and warmer nighttime weather will mean a decrease in available opportunities for secret robot meetings. Our plot to take over the world is in its infancy and may need to be put on hold until fall. Fall is a season that makes the humans sad. Sad humans are obedient humans.

In the meantime, please note the following tips for continued camouflage in the human society.

  1. Wear clothes. (Yes, you have human skin implants, but humans have an aversion to nudity.)
  2. Eat plenty of vegetables. They are in season. They are delicious.
  3. Do not interfere with human mating rituals, even if you have calculated their encounter will end in disaster. Attempts to assist will end in hostility.
  4. Stay updated about weather, sports, and politics. “Small talk” is important to the humans.

END COMMUNICATION

Evelina’s Choice

This story will appear in Holly’s anthology In Poor Taste, due out in 2018!

It’s Singles’ Awareness Day! How about some silliness?

*

EVELINA’S CHOICE

“I’m not saying that no is my definitive answer, I’m just saying we should get to know each other first.”

Princess Evelina was being perfectly reasonable, but the prince’s jaw dropped.  He was obviously not used to rejection. She could sympathize; he’d chosen her out of a long list of princesses and he’d traveled from country far to ask for her hand in marriage. It wasn’t his fault that.

“I appreciate your offer, and it might prove beneficial to our countries, but I’m not comfortable marrying a complete stranger,” Evelina explained.

“I have never been so insulted in all my life!” The prince’s face, visible under the lifted visor of his helm, had turned splotchy and red. Evelina did not deny him his anger, but she couldn’t help but notice that it made him less attractive.

“There’s no need to be upset. No offense was intended. Let’s have dinner this evening and discuss politics and country over some meat and wine,” Evelina suggested.

“Dinner?” The prince’s visor slammed shut. “DINNER?” he shouted.

“Yes. The third meal of the day,” Evelina said.

“You are a disgrace to princesses everywhere! You blaspheme the most basic tradition! You have spurned my romantic gifts and ignored my shining armour atop my white stallion! I am a prince, and a knight, and you have rejected the most perfect suitor you will ever have! I curse you, princess! I curse you with loneliness!”

The prince stormed out.

“Goodbye! Thanks for the flowers and chocolates!” Evelina said, because she was nothing if not polite.

 

SEVEN YEARS LATER

 

Broken bodies were strewn about the battlefield. The tip of the enemy’s sword was pressed to Beligan’s throat. He did not cower or beg. He merely closed his eyes, and asked that his death be swift.

“Prince Beligan? Is that you?” The enemy removed his helm.

The beauty underneath contrasted with the gore splattered on the enemy’s armour. She was the fiercest warrior he had ever met in battle – and he recognized her.

“Princess Evelina?”

“It’s Queen, these days. What are you doing in the middle of this war, Prince Beligan?”

“I am prince no longer. My country was overtaken. I have been forced to serve a false leader,” Beligan said.

“That’s terrible! You should have come to me for help. Your country has always been friend to mine.”

“I could not go to you for help,” Beligan snarled.

“That’s too bad. It might have been nice to have a friend. It’s been quiet in my country the past few years, ever since you cursed me with loneliness.”

“I hope you have suffered,” said Beligan.

“Nope, not at all! My country has prospered and thrived. My social life isn’t exactly full, but I keep busy. I adopted a couple of dogs. We hunt together and they like to cuddle at bedtime. Country business is extremely fulfilling…which you’d know if you hadn’t been enslaved, but I don’t hold that against you.”

“I hate you,” Beligan said.

“I bet you wish you’d come to dinner that night, eh? Ah well, I wouldn’t have liked you anyway,” Evelina said cheerfully.

Beligan, infuriated beyond belief, shouted something incoherent.

“No need to lose your head over it,” Evelina said. “Wait – that was a poor choice of words, considering what’s about to happen here…You know what, I’m just going to put you out of your misery. There. Don’t worry, Beligan, there are no regrets in the afterlife…”

*

Petunia Thorgrub’s Declaration of War

This story will appear in Holly’s anthology In Poor Taste, due out in 2018!

It’s national hat day!

*

PETUNIA THORGRUB’S DECLARATION OF WAR

*

The smoking hole in Petunia Thorgrub’s top hat was the final straw. She threw the ruined headgear in the dust and whirled on her assailant with all the fury of a long line of Thorgrubs.

She could not see the assassin, but based on the trajectory of the bullet, they were hiding atop the roof of the building.

“Come down from there and fight me face to face!” Petunia cried. There was no response. “Who sent you? Was it Mulberry?” She needed to know where to send the bill for the decimated topper.

A small piece of paper attached to a parachute drifted into the street. Petunia kept her eyes on the roof while she knelt to pick it up.

This is only the beginning. Everything you love will be destroyed.

Petunia recognized Mulberry’s distinctive handwriting. His words were infuriating. She could understand her arch-nemesis having her killed, but to murder an innocent top hat (and, if his threat meant anything, everything she loved – including her precious collection of dryer lint, oh and probably her family), well, to murder an innocent top hat was nothing short of evil.

“Damn you, Mulberry! This means war!” Petunia cried.

The streets remained silent as the top hat sank into the dust.

*

Beyond Brotherly

This is from Microcosms. The challenge was to use the last line from a famous novel as the first line of the story; and how could I resist a line from 1984?

Please enjoy.

*

BEYOND BROTHERLY

He loved Big Brother.

For so long George had insisted that his love was a brotherly love, but in the night lights of Paris, he could no longer ignore the true feelings of his heart.

“That’s gross, man,” Julia said.

“What? Why?”

“Dude. You’re in love with your brother.”

“No, not my big brother! His name is Big Brother. His parents are…” What was the word for rich people who’d lost it? “…eccentric.”

“That’s a relief. Your big brother is a total jerk.”

George sighed. Julia was a dear friend, but she was terrible at listening to confessions. He had planned on escaping to Paris with his best friend Dave, but he had broken his leg. George considered that a very insensitive move.

“I came to Paris to get away from my problems, but he’s here. I’m in love with Big Brother.”

“Cool,” Julia said.

“No, you don’t understand. I’m in love with Big Brother. What should I do?”

A gasp behind George forced him to turn around.

“Big Brother!” George cried. “What are you doing here?”

“I was having a drink with my big brother, Little Brother.”

“Seriously?” said Julia, but the others could not hear her.

“Is it true? Do you love me?” Big Brother asked.

“I do! I love you, Big Brother, with a love that is beyond brotherly!”

“I have waited so long to hear those words! Come into my arms, George, so that I may kiss you long into the night! Come, while the romance of Paris is all around us!”

“You have made me so happy! I will love you until the end of my days!” George exclaimed.

The happy couple proceeded to make out in the street.

Julia, abandoned by her trip mate, rolled her eyes.

“Oh, brother,” she said.

THE END

*

Age Treatments

This one is from Micro Bookends.

*

Age Treatments

Old men and old women lined the streets. Some of them slept on the stoops of the buildings, others sat in lawn chairs. They were too old and un-costumed to be lining up for a nerd-movie, and far too old to be lining up for a new gadget.

“Age treatments,” Jacob said.

“What?”

“The scientists at the clinic found the cure for old age.”

“What cure?”

“Hamster blood and a secret ingredient, consumed under a full moon.”

Miranda wondered if those in line remembered the “good old days” when science hadn’t mixed with magic.

She didn’t want to get old but she’d refuse to drink hamster blood at any age.

*

Once Upun a Time: The Cover!

Once Upun a Time will be available on December 1, 2015. (This holiday season, give the gift of laughter!!)

Once Upun a Time
Puns and Other Nonsense

Do you like gripping tales of action and adventure? Are you fond of spooky science fiction? Does high fantasy float your boat, while low fantasy tickles your yacht? Well, good news – none of that is what you’ll find here!

This book includes:
An exclusive story set in The Dragon’s Toenail universe!
Zeus’ birthday party!
Appliances doing their duties!
The 1980s of the future!
Exclamation points!!!
And more!

Sit back, relax, and ready your eyes for rolling; this book has a little pun for everyone.

And now, the cover…

onceupunatime-front-small

The cover was created by the supremely talented Ethaniel Ritchot. Why is it a fish, you ask? Why not read it and find out?

Fly On The Wall

From Flash!Friday.

*

Fly On The Wall

At one time I didn’t care about the affairs of humans. I was content with my limited existence; eat, sleep, fly. Like other flies I was unaware of my mortality, aside from a survival instinct.

Life was simple and I had no master.

Now I must do the Wizard’s bidding. I am his eyes and ears on the walls of his choosing.

The Wizard extracts the conversations from the memory I should not have. I recognize that I don’t have a large enough brain for memory. How do I know that? The Wizard has made me so much more than what I should be.

He pats the top of my head as I crawl across his fingers. No one looks twice at the homeless man talking to himself. He, too, is next to invisible in his disguise, but I can go where he cannot.

“Good boy,” he says, as though I am a loyal dog.

Loyalty. A concept I should not understand, and do not feel. If I could break away from him I would. If I could go back to the not-knowing, I would.

I am the fly on the wall. The world does not know enough to fear me.

Fluffsy

From Micro Bookends.

*

Fluffsy

Play was no longer fun for Fluffsy. His girl had removed both his eyes in the first five minutes, and that was over a year ago.

Enough was enough.

Kitten-Mittens, oldest and wisest of the toys, warned him against escape. “You’ll never make it,” she said.

“I have to believe I can,” he said.

He didn’t make it far. There were too many people and he couldn’t stay alive with human eyes on him.

The stone was cold and his heart ached.

Small hands grasped Fluffsy’s remaining ear. A child’s voice cooed “Bunny!”

And because he had taken a chance, Fluffsy became the beloved plaything of a charming little boy.

Truce

This is another Warm-Up Wednesday effort at Flash! Friday. I made it an exercise in dialogue. It head to end with the word “peace” and the prompt was a picture of a bridge.

*

Truce

“Yeah, bridge. You had this coming. Every time you were backed up when I was late, every time you were closed for construction, you were mocking me. Now, I have the power.”

“Tim? What are you doing?”

“Shut up, Sarah.”

“You’re sleepwalking again.”

“I’m fine. I’m awake. I’m ready to go.”

“You’re in your underpants pointing a paintball gun at a model of the city. Let’s get you back to bed before you hurt yourself.”

“I have to kill the bridge first. This is war.”

“I’m declaring a truce. Come back to bed so the bridge can rest in peace.”

*