Archive for the ‘Original Fiction’ Category

Posted on August 10, 2008 - by deCadmus

Spammy Story: Weird Tales Loser

Weird Tales magazine recently hosted a spiffy flash fiction contest. The challenge: write a piece of fewer than 500 words based on a SPAM email.

Well, gosh. I have a host of collected SPAM to choose from — some of them artful in their painful obfuscation and stilted Engrish — so choosing was half the battle. My [losing] entry is below.

It’s worth noting the first paragraph is entirely the introduction to an actual junk email that hit my in-box. It’s also worth noting that this piece is altogether science-fictiony, and thus arguably not the best entry for a Weird Tales contest, but you go where the muse takes you…

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Return-Path: Ǥ§Þ¤°¤@terra.et
Received: from ¤§mtp2.mail.isp (42.host.terra.et [255.255.255.1])
From: Xenophile Ǥ§Þ¤°¤³°Ò@terra.et
Message-ID: 12f7417fab.17fab12f74@terra.et
Date: Tue, 29 Jul 2008 04:35:02 GMT
X-Mailer: Webmail
Subject: Mutual Understanding/ Benefit

Greetings and Compliments.

I strongly regret any inconvenience the receipt of this message may cause you, bearing in mind the nature of its content coming from an individual without referral or prior correspondence, but please read and assimilate its content and objectively consider if we can work together.

I am the secretary of communications for the peoples of  Ǥ§Þ¤°¤, which you will assuredly know as extra-solar planet GJ 436c in your (Terran) constellation Leo, located 32.66676 light years
from your sun. Please call me Phil.

I should like to intimate you with certain facts that I believe would be of interest to you. My delegation represents the totality of the peoples of Ǥ§Þ¤°¤ currently en route to your coordinates. I communicate with the authority of the director of our trade delegation to your peoples.

It is to our mutual good fortune we have for some time monitored high frequency electromagnetic transmissions from your world and consequently are come to know your being’s social and
economical wants. Your recent Happy Days transmission we find joyful. (Fonzie. Ayyyyy.) Your Hitler program we had enjoyed not so much.

OUR CIRCUMSTANCES AND PROPOSAL
Due to unforeseen consequences with a neutron particle colliding experiment a substantial portion of our home world’s atmosphere was discharged, rendering our home world unhabitable. Hey, mistakes happen. As a consequence, we wish to secure rights to Solar planets Sol-d (Mars), and mineral rights or perhaps a lease / purchase agreement for Sol-e (Jupiter). Exchange of biological specimens would be advantageous, but is not a requirement for our sustained and mutual cooperation.

IN APPRECIATION AND GOOD FAITH
As proof of our earnestness in intent and devotion to our mutual transaction we have caused to be propulsed a mineral-bearing asteroid of primary composition: Pt 18%, Au 22%, Pu 24% and of a mass 6.1 × 10¹³ kg which will intersect with your planet on March 24, 2010 (your calendar.) We calculate that our gift should arrive within +- 0.99997 km of your equatorial plane thus to better procure your assured delivery. Hey, don’t miss it! (Ayyyyy.)

With great anticipation of a mutually beneficial partnership and durable relationships.

Your friend,

Phil.

CC:
1.¤¤°ê¤j³°Ó»º
2.P¤åPºØ¡A
3.¥¬¥ôÂ¥Þ

Posted on July 26, 2008 - by deCadmus

Town Meeting Day

And now for something completely different.

Of late I’ve been writing an increasing amount about fiction on these pages. This is the first time in a very long while that I’ve offered up any of my own.

Town Meeting Day — the first Tuesday in March — is an institution in Vermont, and throughout much of New England. It’s notable for being a hands-on, participatory style of democracy. In this story, the citizens of one small town in Vermont have their hands full…

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Town Meeting Day

“I object!”

“Mr. Dunhill, this isn’t a trial. You may not object. Not that I can make heads or tails of what you’re objecting to.”

“I object to this venue!”

“Gabe, this is a town meeting, not a court room. These are your neighbors, they’re not a jury. Now kindly sit down and stop being an ass.”

Harvey Tuttle — large-animal veterinarian of Cold Hollow, Vermont, and just forty-five minutes ago elected moderator of Town Meeting — eyeballed Dunhill from his seat at the raised table at the north end of village hall. This morning he’d helped to set up the old wooden platform that came out just once a year, special for Town Meeting day. Old Ben Isham, the senior village selectman, had specifically asked for Harvey’s assistance in raising the dais. Harvey was, of course, happy to help. But in the intervening hours — and especially in the last few minutes — he’d begun to suspect the old wooden platform wasn’t all that had been set-up this morning.

Harvey could think of a dozen things he might rather be doing just now… getting kicked by a horse was near the top of his list. Right up there with getting stepped on by a pregnant heifer. That was always good for a grin. Buck up, Harv… just do the job in front of you.

Harvey stared down Dunhill, who — finally — took his seat. For good measure, Harvey eyeballed the rest of the gathering, too, to stifle the sniggering among the assembled.

The hall was packed… 250, maybe 300 folks had turned out, easily a quarter of the village, and a good many more than the room could seat comfortably. There were more — dozens more — standing behind the ranks of folding chairs and leaning against the whitewashed walls in the back. It looked like the sheriff was one of the leaners in back — Harvey could easily see Andy Barrow’s Stetson hat above the crowd — and Andy was a man who tended to get places early.

A high turnout at Town Meeting wasn’t unusual — folks here took their democracy seriously, thank-you-very-much — but still. Something was up. And, as usual, it seemed Harvey was the last to know about it. (more…)