Cheeseburger Gothic

"Harry vs The Dragon" by Lord Bob of Nowhere. Fanfest 2015

Posted Sunday into Book Extract by John Birmingham

Just when you thought too much Fanfest was barely enough, this arrives in the royal mail from Nowhere. (The post is notoriously unreliable from Nowhere).

“Oh no you don’t, you ugly bitch” muttered Harry as he pulled the cyclic to full power and pushed the collective over to port. The jet of flaming sulphurous lizard belch washed over the starboard side of the Apache gunship, bubbling paint off the composite body, but as far as Harry could tell causing no real damage. The rev counter peaked momentarily into the red as Harry Windsor rocketed down the canyon between towering office blocks. He could feel it in the meat of his arse and without conscious thought rolled the cyclic back to seventy percent. Only one hundred and fifty feet off the bitumen he thundered past the windows of brokers of all types, pursued by the most unlikely of bogeys, an honest to god, fire- breathing dragon. Out in open country Dragons as soon as they were located, usually roasting a mob of cattle like a highly-mobile Hibachi, were promptly dispatched by A10’s top-shelf brand of ‘splodey goodness, but in The City collateral damage was deemed too high for rockets and such profligate pyrotechnics, so it was back to duelling one on one with cannon fire against Dragon fire. Just like in the original Battle of Britain the RAF and Army air units engaged invaders over London and that’s where Harry and his co-pilot gunner Fat Tony came in. Fat Tony mused it was all well and good to destroy some poor- arsed farmer’s livelihood, but as soon as the striped-shirts precious assets were on the line, things were different, but being nobody’s fool, Fat Tony kept his opinions to himself.

Since his return from the ‘Stan Harry had been spending far too much time on ceremonial duties. It seemed a little blubber-eel had taken up residence just above his belt-line and his hands had lost the stains and callouses of a man who worked for a living. The lads in his unit took endless pleasure in pointing these and his many other failings out to him when he joined them for manoeuvres and exercises, the cheeky buggers. Being born into “The Firm” came with blessings and curses, most recently the blessings came and came again in the supple form of Princess Mi-Niko of the imperial family of Japan, part time snow-boarding champion, part time princess and full time good sort. But a gentleman wouldn’t skite about that to a rough-headed bunch of lads like those in his unit. Much.

But distractions as pleasant as Mi-Niko aside he really should concentrate on the job at hand, which bizarre as it was, was gaining on him and putting his arse at serious risk of imminent barbecue. He kicked hard on the port pedal, rolled the cyclic up to eighty and executed a ragged, but effective turn down another canyon of corporate phallic substitutes. The damned dragon was only a half a block behind them now, her great leathery wings remarkable in their ability to scoop great volumes of the thick London air. Nimble, seriously pissed off and deadly she pursued the Apache with the single minded focus of a raptor eyeing a fat pigeon. This strange clattering foe had killed her friend, as far as dragons could be said to have friends, which was roughly less than zero, but either way it was a grave affront which could not be allowed to stand.

“This aint getting us nowhere” muttered Harry as his elocution tutor rolled in her grave. “Time to mix it up.” He pointed the nose at the sky and poured on the power. In barely a blink he was above the aircon units and satellite dishes which crowned the surrounding office towers. He rolled the Apache over and dove for the Thames at full power she screamed up to almost 200 knots, briefly leaving the great lizard behind. Flashing past The Tower wherein Harry’s relatives close and distant for the best part of 600 years had dispensed a particular brand of choppy justice, He eyed an opportunity. How often would you get a chance like this? So for no good tactical reason Harry barrel-rolled the Apache under the London Bridge pursued by a Dragon intent on toasting him like a focaccia. “Now, back to business.” Harry mused. The Dragon seemed intent on closing with the Apache for “a bit of grapple” as Harry’s unarmed-combat instructor was fond of calling the deadly business of taking an enemy to the ground & ensuring you were the only one who stood up. “What say we do some damage?” Harry asked. Fat Tony clicked his mic once in assent and as Harry executed another pedal turn to starboard, which would earn zero points for gracebut a full ten as it bought his primary weapon to bear, Fat Tony opened up with the screaming horror tucked under the Apache. Flowing with inertia like a martial artist Harry Crab-Walked the Apache to port as the M230 Chain gun spat 625 30mm High Explosive Dual Purpose rounds per minute at the Dragon. (Presumably the dual purposes were “Fuck” and “You.”) The mighty lizard affronted by such impudence jinked to starboard, folded her port-side wing and attempted to roll under the fire. Fat Tony’s targeting helmet followed as smooth as you could like and he was rewarded with bloody chunks of leather being torn off the still partially extended wing. The Dragon, not at all liking this turn of events, turned tail and flew back into the financial district. Harry followed as Fat Tony tore chunks of Dragon meat from the flank of the retreating beast with burst after burst of chain-gun fire. The great lizard screamed in shock, pain and outrage hundreds of decibels of fingernails on chalkboard with a little stretched-cat mixed in for good measure. This was inconceivable; she hadn’t fled from a fight, well ever as far as she could remember. But self-preservation sang loud and she searched desperately for a bolt hole.

Losing her grace with the integrity of her wing membrane she bounced off the glass front of an investment-banking house and in a spectacular shower of glass fragments, larcenous forecasts, ergonomic furniture and a tiny percentage of really good cocaine, she dove for the yawning maw of a tube station entrance. “That ain’t good” said Fat Tony as the great beast lit up the entrance to the Tube station with a gout of roiling flame and stink and charged down into the underground sanctuary. “No, but I guess it’d be Someone Else’s Problem.” replied Harry as the great spiked tail demolished a smouldering news stand before disappearing below.

“Hotel Romeo Hotel 41. Hotel Romeo Hotel 41. Target 1 splashed, Target 2 has gone to ground. St Pancras Tube Station” Prince Harry radioed to his forward air controller. “Door closing, Mind the gap.”

18 Responses to ‘"Harry vs The Dragon" by Lord Bob of Nowhere. Fanfest 2015’

NBlob has opinions thus...

Posted Sunday
AWSM art & unbelievable turn around. I submitted this, went & got Fish and Chips (why can't fish shops do good chips?) ate, logged in as I had a post dinner smoke and its up. The bunnies deserve a pay rise JB.

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insomniac has opinions thus...

Posted Yesterday
Nice bit of well described actiony goodness

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Paul_Nicholas_Boylan swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted 23 hours ago
That was unexpectedly enjoyable. Very much.

But isn't it St. Pancreas?

NBlob has opinions thus...

Posted 1 hour ago
I believe you may be getting confused with the Sainted Liver. Insulin is pretty impressive, but in no way qualifies as a miracle.

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Chaz would have you know...

Posted 19 hours ago
Would have thought that a dragon would prefer to hole up in the old lady of Threadneedle Street!

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w from brisbane would have you know...

Posted 19 hours ago
St Pancras station is a good choice. The dragon would have the option of getting a direct run to the Midlands or he could get on the Eurostar and head off to Paris or Brussels.

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JG has opinions thus...

Posted 18 hours ago
Nice piece of writing, NBlob.

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Chaz asserts...

Posted 17 hours ago
W, not forgetting of course that the Eurostar travels slower on the UK tracks because of speed limitations!

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BigWillieStyle mutters...

Posted 17 hours ago
Clearly, NBlob is an early victim of Viscount Turnbull's new Australia Post regime.

Nice, tight piece of writing - I can see Harry Windsor actually doing this at some point in the future.

I'm stealing "choppy justice" and "yawning maw" for future use, by the way.

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GhostSwirv asserts...

Posted 16 hours ago

Great writing NBob - felt like I was strapped in right beside Harry slashing his Apache across the financial district with Fat Tony's fat finger on the trigger.
Loved the roll through the Tower Bridge and the Dragon fleeing down the Tube ... "Someone else's problem" - typical Bloody Royals.

You like your gunships - don't you?

NBlob is gonna tell you...

Posted 2 hours ago
How could one not?

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Spanner ducks in to say...

Posted 15 hours ago
See, this was quality fanfic. Done well without the cheap slander of others. I liked this much better than the "writing" of that greybread chappie.
Cracking description of the dual purpose round.
Well done NBlob.

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sibeen ducks in to say...

Posted 13 hours ago
As a Republican, I was supporting the dragon.

Paul_Nicholas_Boylan mutters...

Posted 9 hours ago
As a Libertarian, I was angered by the waste of tax dollars depicted.

GhostSwirv ducks in to say...

Posted 3 hours ago

Still I wonder that as a Burgherian PNB you were not stimulated by all of NBob's splodey goodness in spite of your core political beliefs?

Paul_Nicholas_Boylan is gonna tell you...

Posted 2 hours ago
Well, yeah, of course. It totally made my dick hard (metaphorically speaking, of course). But that is a given, innit? Hardly worthy of discussion or comment.

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pitpat is gonna tell you...

Posted 45 minutes ago
Just got around to reading it while waiting for others. Super work Lord Bob, part of me likes The Harry more than The Dave.

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HAVOCK21 mumbles...

Posted 33 minutes ago
good shit NBOB...!!!!!

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Respond to '"Harry vs The Dragon" by Lord Bob of Nowhere. Fanfest 2015'

Netflix ahoy

Posted Tuesday into Telly by John Birmingham

I had my usual run at Blunty this morning, but didn't link to it here because it was just more bitching about climate change destroying my appliances.

When I opened my email this morning, however, there was an exciting message from Netflix, that their local operation was now underway. I did something I don't often do. Went home and wrote a whole new column, for free, just because I wanted to have my two cents worth:

It's on, at last. As of midnight last night you could get Netflix in Australia. A cramped, constrained version of the much larger, more generous US Netflix to be sure, but the journey of a thousand miles begins right after I binge-watch Firefly and House of Cards, oh, and Breaking Bad over on Stan, and all the many, many eps of Dr Who I missed and Torchwood and maybe John Dies at the End.

More here.

If you're wondering why this sudden burst of blogging, it's because I'm having a 'day off' after sending away the first HOOPER ebook manuscript. 32K words on Colonel Varatchevsky's origin story, with a little easter egg for readers of the Disappearance series.

27 Responses to ‘Netflix ahoy’

HAVOCK21 swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted Tuesday
yeah well! I finished both fkn books, day and a bit..............FINALLY!

You have no fkn concept how hard it is to NOT FKN COMMENT / READ SHIT when ya aint read the fkn book. BUT NOW I HAVE..both. So how would one, thats a sure fkn fired GOD like me, with NUTs LIKE FKN COCONUTS, nit hanging on the ground and WOMEN ATTRANATDS that are to the power of fkn TEN OF DAVE!.

Good read, fkn good read actually. I think I liked book one more, thats because your ability to describe the TOTAL FKN CARNAGE OF THE KIL BOX! was fkn piss poor and you outta slap Murph over the fkn head , unless he can produce fkn proof he disagreed, that the action was NOWHERE fkn near enough descrptive, I wanted desriptions of MBT,s squashing the fkr, fleshette fkn rounds tangled with SLIVEEN TESTICLES and innards impaled on building fkn walls, tank tracks lubricated withe ec etc and I got five fifths of fk all!

Number three.................it better be better, thats NOT to say 2 wasn't god, but get ya explodie fkn shit together, I want more carnage!

John Birmingham swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted Tuesday
Note to Murph: Must remember the fleshy testicle thing next time. For Havoc.

Murphy swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted Wednesday
Fleshy nuts.
Got it.

Murphy reckons...

Posted Wednesday
Wait a minute . . . are there any other kind?
I mean, I figure Sliveen probably have scaly nuts, maybe spiked nuts, or perhaps scabby, hairy, pustule ridden nuts.
Just sayin'.
#DiversifyYourNuts

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Rob ducks in to say...

Posted Tuesday

can't watch it. My internet is like my pugs. Slow. So I have been forced to torrent, its my ISPs fault, honest.

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Darth Greybeard is gonna tell you...

Posted Tuesday
I'm going for the free trial, just to see if it streams without constant breaks (thanks Rupert, thanks Malcolm). If so, I'm in.

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she_jedi puts forth...

Posted Tuesday
FFS my Fairfax site WAtoday didn't even run your climate change column. Wasn't until you mentioned it on the Twitterz that I knew it existed. Finally tracked it down on BrisbaneTimes. Shame WAToday shame. I had two Bluntys for the price of one and was denied!

HAVOCK21 mumbles...

Posted Wednesday
She J, you should sooooo have seen me when I dressed up as PUSS....IN BOOOTZZ!. FK I made it bad!

she_jedi mutters...

Posted Wednesday
I want photos Havock! Surely some brave soul captured this for posterity?

Paul_Nicholas_Boylan swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted Saturday
I, for one, do not want to see any photographic depiction of the event.

she_jedi mumbles...

Posted Saturday
Wuss

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Murphy reckons...

Posted Wednesday
I'm sorry, what is the big deal about Torchwood?
Just wondering.

beeso asserts...

Posted Wednesday
Depends which one. The original spinoff was a good edgy sci fi cop drama. Then they took it to the U.S. and absolutely fucked it.

Darth Greybeard mutters...

Posted Wednesday
Agreed.

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HAVOCK21 swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted Wednesday
Murph, hear hear. And we should also add to that the other shite he mentioned in that list. Im fkn surprised JB watches sooo much shit really. Its a wonder, that between that crap, sunlight ( queenslanders are renowned for too much sunlight on their brains) and being a dainty writer, that he delivers anyform of explodie fkn goodness, Ill wager the hover has a fkn pink fluffy fkn captains seat at this rate.

AND!

WHO THE FK IS!!!! TORCHWOOD??? FFSAKES!. I heard of Dr WHO.

Simon swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted Friday
Torchwood is actually an anagram of Doctor Who. It was a good spinoff. Hadn't even heard of the US translation. Not surprised it bombed - why do they even bother? So many examples of failure in that regard. It's not like the US citizens are complete buffoons and can't watch something with an english accent. . . . . .. . no?

Murphy puts forth...

Posted Friday
Simon, it made it here.
It was notable for two men kissing each other.

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GhostSwirv has opinions thus...

Posted Wednesday

Dear HAVOCK21 the blogosphere has been bereft of your commanding grip of fearsome pinions of late - one wonders if you shall venture beyond the shores of present time and space and Torchwoodiness an' stuff and all and launch MASS ASSAULTS on the bitchin' TheDave fan fictions?


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Aaron has opinions thus...

Posted Thursday
Man it sounds like you could have a kill box fan fic festival.
Another note, my wife got me call of duty ghosts for bday, the enemy is the federation, the combined might of South America in about 20 years. Sounds like what was brewin in the last disappearance novel. I am working the kill box

John Birmingham mumbles...

Posted Friday
My lawyers will be in contact.

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GhostSwirv swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted Friday

Oh God no - JB as FU ... President of the Free World, heaven help us!!!

JG has opinions thus...

Posted Friday
Who is this FU of which you speak, GS?

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GhostSwirv reckons...

Posted Friday

JG - if I'm not mistaken, and in this reality that is a distinct possibility, FU is Frank Underwood - ably channeled by the talents of one KS - Kevin Spacey, who incidently also played ... OMG I just realised KS is Keyser Soze!!!

Did like the Red Right Hand reference - can't seem to shake it from my head now - not a bad way to start the school holidays - makes me want to reach for a bit of the Irish, Jack that is, oops wrong Writer's Temple.

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pi would have you know...

Posted Sunday
OT, but last night it occurred to me that some here might or might be familiar with the first Super Dave? Super Dave Osborne that is. I grew up in Canada, and this guy had a show on about his stunts, and he was funny at the time.

http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=youtube.com+super+dave+osborne&qpvt=youtube.com+super+dave+osborne&FORM=VDRE

It didn't occur to me that some here might not have known about it? Anyway, funny if you're into that sort of thing.

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Your work, their profit

Posted March 24 into Writing by John Birmingham

I've seen a few younger writers I follow publishing at Medium.com of late. I have an account at Medium and occasionally throw something up there, just as an experiment. But I always republish those entries here. Why? Because Medium, for all its beauty and design-forward aesthetic is possessed of that strange new fangled feudal ethic which treats its content providers as serfs. This is why I worry when I see young writers putting some of their best work up there.

[UPDATE: I took down the two examples I was running with earlier because although I encountered them on Medium, they'd been conventionally commissioned at paying sites run by Medium. So it wasn't appropriate to use them as examples of the vast amount of content that Medium gets for free].

Writers should be encouraged to keep producing stories and in our society that encouragement takes the form of a pay day.

Medium does not pay as a matter of policy – certainly not everyone who publishes there, and not much to those few it does recompense. This despite having a very new/old fashioned business model not entirely unlike that of The New York Times, as Matthew Butterick makes clear in this excellent piece:

But unlike the Times, Medium pays only for a small fraction of its stories. The rest are submitted – for free – by writers like you. After a long time being elusive about its business model, Medium revealed that it plans to make money by –surprise!– advertising. This means displaying ads, but also collecting and selling data about readers and writers. So Medium will extract revenue from every story, whether it paid for that story or not. (By the way, will that revenue be shared with writers? Um, no.)

In truth, Medium’s main product is not a publishing platform, but the promotion of a publishing platform. This promotion brings readers and writers onto the site. This, in turn, generates the usage data that’s valuable to advertisers. Boiled down, Medium is simply marketing in the service of more marketing. It is not a “place for ideas”. It is a place for advertisers. It is, therefore, utterly superfluous.

Except to the owners of Medium, who are definitely getting a fucking pay day.

21 Responses to ‘Your work, their profit’

Lulu ducks in to say...

Posted March 24
On a strongly-related note, it's sad to see the end of The Hoopla.

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Blarkon puts forth...

Posted Tuesday
There's a generation that believe they have an inalienable right to free content. If they aren't going to pay for Game of Thrones or Mad Men because there are "free" alternatives - good luck getting them to pay writers for written content that they can consume in a couple of minutes.

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Rob reckons...

Posted Tuesday
I gave up working in the media for this reason. Free is all you get known for, and everything becomes 'good experience' . Now I get paid a lot for other things than being creative. Funemployment?

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Murphy_of_Missouri swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted Tuesday
When can I get my food, medical and housing for free then? Since I sure won't be compensated for my knowledge and writing ability?
Respects,
Murph
On the Outer Marches

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Blarkon puts forth...

Posted Tuesday
A mailing list I was on recently noted that people presenting at many conferences are now being asked to stump for their travel and accommodation expenses. The argument by these newer younger conference organizers is that speaking at a high profile professional conference presents an opportunity for (wait for it) "exposure".

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sibeen swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted Tuesday
Hold on, does that mean that if I finally submit a bit of fan fiction that I'll get paid for it?
:)

John Birmingham puts forth...

Posted Tuesday
Not unless I do.

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JBtoo ducks in to say...

Posted Tuesday
As a soon-to-be unemployed (and probably unemployable) sub editor, this kind of thing makes me grind my teeth even harder.
I know, what the fuck is a sub editor?

Blarkon ducks in to say...

Posted Tuesday
Edits submarines

Rhino is gonna tell you...

Posted Wednesday
Gets coffee and whips for the Dom Editor?

NBlob swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted Wednesday
What the f*ck is a sub editor? An unknown mythical beast in APN world.

damian asserts...

Posted Wednesday
Is it because "copy editor" isn't a demeaning enough term?

Lulu is gonna tell you...

Posted Wednesday
hehe, I'd vote Blarkon & Rhino for the win.

JBtoo mumbles...

Posted Wednesday
All too true

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Rhino would have you know...

Posted Wednesday
Why is everyone bitching about free exposure? On kilt Fridays, after several G&Ts and supporting beers, I've been known to expose myself for free on numerous occasions.
I really don't see why there is such a fuss. The wimmins seem to love it.

Murphy is gonna tell you...

Posted Wednesday
Isn't that a felony down Georgia way?
If not then surely a misdemeanor.

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Murphy mutters...

Posted Wednesday
The exposure line of shit isn't too far off from the way they sell Adjunctland jobs for aspiring college instructors. Come to us, work part time, get some cred, get the full time, tenure track job.
Reality?
Work a bunch of little Adjunct jobs while getting paid as much as a lifeguard does until you DIE.

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Rhino asserts...

Posted Wednesday
Not when one is The Rhino. I've received blue ribbons.

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HAVOCK21 ducks in to say...

Posted Wednesday
Aonly exposure that should be given, is that wich is attained when they ae hit by a high velocity round. Thats done for free, maybe we should take it to sections of the ME

NBlob mutters...

Posted Thursday
'Cos that's worked a treat every other time we've tried it.

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Respond to 'Your work, their profit'

3 for 3

Posted March 23 by John Birmingham

So, that storm that blew through on Saturday afternoon? Yeah. Lightning strikes like bolts of plasma canon fire, all over the suburb. Destroyed a lot of telecoms infrastructure. And probably my modem. Again. We won't know for a few days because both Telstra and Optus are out.

One upside. Poor old AAMI took so long getting my replacement equipment to me after the last strike that I still have installed it. It was sitting safely boxed up, unattached to any power outlet when the latest fist of God slammed down on us.

It is getting a bit old, but.

Makes me tink there's probably a column to be had talking to the big insurers about climate change. I'll bet they've already factored it in to current premiums and forward projections.

41 Responses to ‘3 for 3’

GhostSwirv mutters...

Posted March 23


Are you suggesting JB that our insurance premiums for floods and storm damage might be cheaper if we lived in say a safer neighbourhood - like OFF-PLANET?

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Paul_Nicholas_Boylan mutters...

Posted March 23
Is it possible that this is the beginning of a new normal, and that electronic information infrastructure will be less available to some places in the future?

Abe Frellman mumbles...

Posted Wednesday
Yes, just as insurance is harder to get in some places, so owners of hard infrastructure will think twice before deploying their capital.

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Chaz would have you know...

Posted March 23
surely living in an area with lots of storms is a lifestyle choice?

Bunyip has opinions thus...

Posted March 23
Touché.
Not that I'd know. The only storms we get down here in the Frozen Culturally Superior South are feuding artists going at each other at with sarcasm and Letters to the Editor.

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Dan mutters...

Posted March 23

My understanding is that the big insurers (in fact most if not all of them) have indeed factored in climate change - at odds with the mushroom speak coming out of Canberra and the 'conserva-regressives' of the world.

While not a huge fan of the 'market driven economics' religion, it bewilders me the acolytes of such (conservatives) fail to acknowledge what one of their biggest ministers clearly believe and plan for.

I would love to see the day when those who took steps to minimise the change end up with cheaper premiums, while those who denied carry the brunt of the insurance cost... but that is a pipe dream.

Paul_Nicholas_Boylan ducks in to say...

Posted March 23
Yes. Absolutely a pipe dream. We are in the grip of globalized high tech carpetbaggers.

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Brother PorkChop would have you know...

Posted March 23
Lad played Rugby at Easts yesterday and we spent the first 20 minutes cleaning up the field. Wasn't a pretty sight at all especially when you consider all we got northside was a few heavy showers and thunder.Maybe you should look at hardened comms, commercial weight protection?

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Shep asserts...

Posted March 23

Not so much the insurers - but the reinsurers. They are all at the fore front because they will be wearing the costs.

They are also the ones who understand risk management - even if you think there's only a small chance that climate change is real, multiply that small chance by the massive long term cost implications and it makes financial sense to mitigate those consequences.

http://www.swissre.com/rethinking/climate_and_natural_disaster_risk/

Buboe reckons...

Posted 19 hours ago

The reinsurers pick up the severity, but local insurers are in where it's down and dirty.

To take the recent hailstorm in Qld as an example.

APRA says that total losses were around $1bn ground up for all classes of insurance (home, motor, commercial). The lion's share (say 50%) would be shared between the two insurers who have the biggest market share. Both have reinsurance which only kicks in above $250m.

The other 50% would be shared between 10-20 smaller or specialty insurers, each of who would have retentions of between $10m and $150m.

So, of the $1bn in insured losses, probably around $900m would be held in the local market, and around $100m would be reinsured to Switzerland, or Germany, or Bermudas, or somewhere.

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Murphy mutters...

Posted March 23
I think there is an article to be had in redundant systems rather than just in time by the skin of our teeth systems.

Respects,
Murph
On the Outer Marches

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Quokka mutters...

Posted March 23
Casa Q was in the path of last year's ice storm. Pretty much every single roof under that meteor shower has to be replaced - our insurer hasn't even had time to get out here to look at the damage yet. It's covered, but they just don't have enough staff to keep up with the demand.Not and meet their profit margins, anyway.

buboe has opinions thus...

Posted March 23
Time to change your insurer, I think.

Quokka mutters...

Posted March 23
They've been really good about other things in the past so I have no reason to think they'll dodge the roof isshew.

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Buboe would have you know...

Posted March 23

Speaking as a representative of one of those insurers - we've been doing this for years.

Since at least 2004 from my certain knowledge, and probably before, our flood, storm surge (tidal effect) and bushfire modelling took into account the possible effect of climate change. these show return periods of 100 and 250 years - more than enough time to show significant climate change results.

Since 2011 we've got access to geotagged, per location data for every household and business in Australia, and good maps for flood, wind and earthquake outside of Aus/NZ. These numbers all include climate change assumptions (although not fracking for EQ risk :-))

What scares me at the moment is the possible change in cyclone activity south of say, Bundaberg due to the increase in sea temps.

When Cyclone Buboe hit's the Sunshine Coast at cat 4 intensity, it will be interesting...

Quokka has opinions thus...

Posted March 23
http://www.sunshinecoastdaily.com.au/news/seeney-writes-off-tide-rises/2481884/The Sunshine Coast? But Deputy Jeff said that north of Brisbane they won't be affected by rising sea levels or tidal surges.Oh yeah, we sacked him.I wonder why.

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Rhino is gonna tell you...

Posted March 23
This is a mistake, right and The Bachelor Party will be moved back to the top tomorrow?

Darth Greybeard reckons...

Posted March 23
Yesterday a rooster, today a feather duster...

GhostSwirv mutters...

Posted March 23

Or as in the case of Rhino's Bachelor Party ...

One day you're a Potato / Lime Masher and the next

You're a BattleMaster's Tooth Pick

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Darth Greybeard puts forth...

Posted March 23
So far (crosses tentacles) our hefty office-grade UPSs have stopped any damage but I doubt they'd stand up to a direct strike. Expense aside, losing access is damned annoying. Yesterday I semi-jokingly suggested a couple of Frankenstein's lab-style knife switches to throw when storms approach. One to cut off power, the other comms. Anyone know if you can get such things - not necessarily that style but a complete physical cut-off?

insomniac mutters...

Posted March 23
eBay has plenty, including a few like this

Darth Greybeard mutters...

Posted March 23
Yeah. See I've got that but it's connecting the 240V line that bothers me. A bit.

damian mumbles...

Posted March 23
Not sure I'd be that much a fan of connecting the coax through that either. See this is why we need fibre.
Line interactive UPS beats a surge protector by a wide margin, plus you can run comms devices (cable modem, wifi router and VOIP ATA here) from it for hours.
Full isolation flywheel systems look kinda nice...

damian swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted March 24
Seriously I want to build something that works like this, but looks like this. While normally you'd use the same motor that imparts the angular momentum as a dynamo, if you use a cheaper motor that's not necessarily design to do that at one end and a car alternator to which your "internal" circuit is connected at the other end, then you get full isolation. I don't see how it's possible NOT to do this...

insomniac would have you know...

Posted March 24
In my line of work I often see that someone's fantastic new idea today was someone else's fantastic new idea about 50 or 100 years prior.

damian swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted Tuesday
You say that like it's a bad thing :)
I don't think that's a new thing at all - if anything Tibetan prayer wheels are pretty ancient, and flywheel based power smoothing has been around as long as electricity networks. But the sudden strong drive to build a large prayer wheel that doubles as a UPS in my backyard is certainly new to me... and so long as it doesn't explode, no-one will get hurt, so I'm not seeing a downside.

damian is gonna tell you...

Posted Tuesday
I guess the safety thing does rather depend on rpm... and the thought around putting it in a stupa in the backyard with an octagonal dining table around it is just inviting injury. Even (or especially) with magnetic bearings.

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JG puts forth...

Posted March 23
The weather is certainly unpredictable these days. I was running a half marathon in Brisbane last night which was cancelled at 10km due to torrential rain. It was seriously mad weather. The Brisbane Corso was gushing and flooding in parts. Never run in such heavy rain before. Wild weather in Queensland - heat waves one week, cyclones and storms the next, bushfires, the works - is changing the way people live. It's been simply too hot to venture outdoors lately (apart from early mornings, late afternoons, evenings). Looking forward to cooler Autumn weather. You seem to have a lot of tech mishaps due to Brisbane's weather events, JB. Bad luck, mate.

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pi puts forth...

Posted March 23
> Wild weather in Queensland - heat waves one week, cyclones and storms the next, bushfires, the works - is changing the way people live.

So... like Melbourne.

JG asserts...

Posted March 23
Yep. Like the entire planet. We've really cranked up this weather mess in recent decades, people. Shame, shame, shame. Now get rid of your cars.

Sudragon would have you know...

Posted March 23
I've never owned a car. Does that count?

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Rob ducks in to say...

Posted March 23
Pretty much. Insurance policy will drive government policy. Governments are self insurers so they will have to under stand the risks. Whether it's bad storms or storm surge activity on coastal areas. If insurance doesn't cover it (and they can via contract exclusions) then government will have to accept the risk. Watch as the neo-conjobs squirm and start accepting the inevitable acceptance of climate change.

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BigWillieStyle ducks in to say...

Posted March 24
Can't Q-Landers take the hint? This increase in the frequency of storms in the Bronco State is clearly God unleashing his anger at Campbell Newman being voted out by you ungrateful bastards.

HAVOCK21 asserts...

Posted Wednesday
NO they cannot, because they have either: A smoked too much fkn shit, B Had too much fkn sun, or C. ALL OF THE FKN ABOVE!

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BigWillieStyle mutters...

Posted March 24

Ever see "The Ice Storm"? Sigourney Weaver, Kevin Kline, the kid that played Spiderman? As I recall, it's essentially about a bunch of suburbanites who have keys-in-the-fishbowl parties whenever a huge storm is approaching. Helps them to cope with the ordeal.

I think that was the plot. Mind you, it's a few years since I've seen it. Anyhoo, keep it in mind next time the BoM starts unleashing the frighteners.

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pitpat mutters...

Posted March 24

When I was growing up in Brisbane I remember the 74-76 period being one of ferocious storms and being constantly soaking wet on the walk home from the train. Lots and lots of thunder storms. I'd argue the difference was that in the 70's we had a small black and white television and that was about it as far as technology went. The stereo Mum had picked up at a white elephant stall, the transistor radio ran on batteries, and the oven was an oven with no electronics that I can remember.

I guess what I am trying to say is that in the 40 odd years between then and now we have a lot more 'stuff' that is prone to going pop when the voltage varies.

ShaneAlpha is gonna tell you...

Posted Tuesday
And for those of us who lived through it, let us not forget the record 13 consecutive weekends of rain that Brisbane had sometime int he early 80's. It was unbelievable, the rain would start just after midday on Friday and not stop drizzling until just before lunch on Monday. And as interstate betting was not active at the TAB at that time the punters were almost suicidal by the time we finally got a fine weekend. And how there were not more mothers killing their children is a wonder of the age.

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Rhino asserts...

Posted Wednesday
Build a giant Faraday cage over the entire city.

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Abe Frellman puts forth...

Posted Wednesday
I'm sorry I'm late to this particular thread - had a large sausage order to deal with. Before coming to my senses and changing to a career in the smallgoods industry I used to hang out with actuarial types. I seem to recall they were onto this around 15 to 20 years ago. Despite (or maybe because of) this, flood insurance in particular remains a complicated area. I think the real laggards are the councils who allow building to occur in areas that are either uninsurable or soon won't be. On top of that you have financial institutions that have incredible geographic concentrations - sometimes even to a single valley/catchment area. This is particularly common in our most tropical of states.

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HAVOCK21 ducks in to say...

Posted Wednesday
So about insurers. Well...................... FK'EM, FK'EM and DOUBLE FK'EM!.

I went ti bed the other night and could hear a hissing fkn noise. That made me get up and check out what was happening. I could not find the source. The following morning I heard it again and this time I ventured outside, nly to find water leaking out f the brickwork where a hot water pipe exited back to the tank.


SO I RANG RAC...BUCH OF ARSEhOLES! and found out.

1 It was MY JOB TO FIND AND STOP THE LEAK,
2 They would contact their repairere / assesor and have them fkn call me in the next 48-72 hours.
3 Insurance ONLY covered the damages, NOT THE REPAIR, thats an extra you need to take out on the policy ( I FKN WELL THOUGHT I HAD A TOP OF THE LINE POLICY)
4 I also found out when the dick heads for the assessing / fkn repair mob called it could take up to 5 FUCKING DAYS!...... And what do I do without fkn hot water and holes in the walls in the mean time ya busted heaed fkn retards.

So fkn annoyed, I broke into the brick work, found the fkn leak stopped it, got the parts and had a fkn plumber come in and fit them all, I still have two holes in the bedroom fkn wall to reapir properlt now thanks to those fkn tossers at RAC...B FKN DICKHEAD CENRAL. I spat the fkn dummy at the girl on the phone, chewed the arse out of the dickhead from the re[airere that rang and informed the RAC B BITCHES / ARSEHATS that as ALL MYFKN POLICIES were with thema dn have been for like........FKN YEARS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Im gunna cancel the fkn lot and use somebody else. POX ON ALL FKN INSURANCE COMPANIES I SAY!. Fkn all should have at the front.

RIP OF ARE US, we will take ya cash and then, when you need us, TELL YA TO GET FKD!

insomniac asserts...

Posted Wednesday
Yes yes yes, but tell us how you really feel? None of this soft mamby-pamby big girl's blouse nonsense.

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Respond to '3 for 3'

"The Bachelor Party", by Roger 'The Rhino' Ross - Fanfest 2015

Posted March 19 into Book Extract by John Birmingham

The one you've all been waiting for. With fear in your unworthy hearts.

The author, in profile.

Long ago – even before the advent of “The Demons of Buttcracke County” - in the American heartland there lay a dozen empty beer bottles on a table scattered among the remains of a large meal.

“After dinner 'warm-ups,'” the kilted guy called the beers. "So's we don't tear a muscle when we put on the big boy pants and get to the real drinking," he said to the assembled men sitting contentedly around the table.

Their bellies full after a dinner of Kansas City's finest steaks and accompanying sides, basking in a paleo-glow and puffing on after dinner cigars, the beers were taking their good old time getting absorbed and the assembled men were only now beginning to feel a very slight buzz.

"Fellow Knights of the Burger Gothic,” Kilt stood and announced, “we must now quest for the holiest of holies - God's gift to man. I speak not of the grail, but of the only drink fit for men of our ilk. The gin and tonic. The only drink suitable to toast the upcoming nuptials of our fellow knight, Mr. Murphy."

The quest itself was short, as such quests go: the bar was but a few paces away. The large man bellied up to the bar, caught the attention of the shapely bartender and said, "Young lady, we are Knights of the Burger Gothic and we are on a quest. A quest for the most sublime of libations, the perfect gin and tonic."

She smiled, thinking, 'Oh shit, here we go' and replied in a flat Midwestern accent "Sure thing, we've got a great selection of gins and – “

The big man cut her off, abruptly slapping two one-hundred dollar bills down on the bar, "Now, here is what I need,” he said. “Two glass pitchers, a fine strainer, a potato masher, a half dozen limes and an unopened bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin. Can me and my pals Benjamin and Benjamin get those?" he asked with a wide grin and a wink.

"Ummmm, sure, okay,” the bartender said, scooping up the bills. Bartenders tend to see some weird shit, but these were late middle-aged guys, probably mostly harmless, and the tip after the cost of the bottle should leave almost a hundred dollars in her pocket. She could put up with a lot of weird from mostly harmless guys for a hundred bucks. Especially on a relatively slow night.

"Darlin', and, ahem, alleged gentlemen,” the big man in the kilt said to the curious bartender and diverse group of men surrounding him at the bar. “The key to a sublime gin and tonic is not just in the choice of gin, but in the preparation of the gin,” he said in a very bad faux English accent, dropping half a dozen halved limes into one of the two large glass pitchers.

“I give you Excalibur!” he said, raising the potato masher over his head. He plunged the masher down and proceeded to 'excaliburize' the limes with merry gusto. "Macerating the limes is key," he grunted.

“He said ‘macerate,” one of the onlookers snickered.

The big man punished the guiltless limes for a few moments more until Steven Murphy - Murph to everyone - stocky build, medium height, hair cut to military length, and obviously the youngest man of the group, said, "C'mon, Rhino, I think they've surrendered already."

"You may be right, Murph,” Rhino admitted, “but one can never be too sure. Hell, for all we know these could be Jihadi limes. Sneakin' over the border to sully our women and threaten the 'Merican way of life.” Rhino grunted and mashed, then stepped away and announced “Volia! The perfect base for God's gift to liquors - Bombay Sapphire."

“A’ chacun son goût,” Boylan – a short, olive skinned, balding man with the pronounced brow line and nose that just screamed ‘Greek Gene Pool’ - muttered at his place in front of the crowd of onlookers.

Rhino ignored the interruption, took the large blue bottle and emptied it into the pitcher, sending the pulp and rinds of the desecrated limes swirling in a whirlpool of gin. "Now, we let it rest a bit while we enjoy these wonderful cigars in celebration of my victory over the terrorist limes, and, of course, the upcoming nuptials of our man, Murph."

"Hell, Rhino, those limes looked guilty as hell,” said Andrew McKinney in a Texas drawl that was smooth as honey. “Y'all shoulda' put a bullet in 'em 'fore you mashed 'em,” McKinney, medium height, medium build, the kind of guy that you probably wouldn't pick out of a crowd except for the piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through you - right down to the dark places in your soul that you should never let see the light of day. That wasn’t a bad super power to have, especially if you happened to be one of the top legal eagles in Houston, Texas. Texas, where the only thing tougher than the laws were the men plying its trade.

"I must insist that you stop this shameless and possibly illegal display," Boylan shouted. "I didn't hear you Mirandize those poor limes. I've half a mind to take their case and sue all of you. And I mean all of you - even you –“ Boylan said, thrusting his finger at a complete stranger – “for violating their citrus rights. I would, that is, if I could be assured that they were wealthy limes that could afford my hourly rate or, if not, that any of you have any assets worth seizing."

"Listen up, Boylan,” Rhino retorted. “We aren't in your socialist Republik of Kalifornia. We are in 'By God, Missoura' and I cannot countenance that kind of commie talk about these obviously jihadist limes."

Boylan opened his mouth to respond but, before he could get a word out, the Bartender interrupted. “What is a Knight of the Burger Gothic?” she asked. “Is that like the Knights of Columbus or the Elks or somethin’?”

Murph jumped in to explain. “We’re all fans,” he said, “of - well, actually, I work for him too - this Australian author who writes adventure novels and he calls his blog Cheeseburger Gothic. Regulars on the blog refer to themselves as Burgers. We’ve all been buddies, online, for years but this is the first time we’ve all met in person.”

The Bartender was nodding her head, but Murph could see that she was grokking only very little of what he said. Murph suspected that all the Bartender heard was, “books, nerds, nerds, kangaroos, nerds, more nerds and bookworms.”

“Anyway,” Murph continued. “I’m getting married in a couple of days, and we thought that it would be a great opportunity to get together.”

The Bartender, turning her head to the side like that dog in the RCA logo listening to the record, “Okay,” she said, “uh huh, well, sure, hey, any excuse for a party, right?”

“I hate to bust up this confab,” Rhino interjected, “but we’re ready for four large glasses, a pitcher of tonic, a bucket of ice and some fresh lime slices for garnish.”

The Bartender busied herself gathering the requested supplies and deposited them atop the bar.

“Now, the key is to combine all of the ingredients in the proper order,” Rhino instructed. “First, the tonic.” He said as he pours each glass one quarter full of tonic. “Then we add the prepared gin.” Taking the pitcher with the gin and limes, Rhino proceeded to pour the liquid through the strainer into the second pitcher. He then took the strained gin and filled each glass, leaving two inches between the gin and the top of the glass.

“Now, the ice,” Rhino said, taking a handful of ice and dropping it into the first of the glasses.

***

Battlemaster Lord Koudung Ur Hunn gave the forward signal and led the two Talon of Hunn and supporting Sliveen Scouts through the breach in the barrier separating the under realms from that of the cattle. Oh, he would bring back a sea of bloodwine and a veritable buffet of fresh man meat back to his Queen. Not to mention the accolades and glory that would be his.

Once through the barrier, the daemon horde found itself, not in the open air as that filthy Thresh reported earlier, but in some structure.

“Ahh,” thought Lord Koudung, “this must be one of the pens that the cattle shelter in. While I’ll miss the hunt, this will make it easier to procure fresh stock and return below to enjoy it all that much quicker.”

He ordered his Sliveen to disperse and scout out the whereabouts of the cattle. He then turned to the chore of forming up the lines of the Hunn Talons as they continued to emerge from the rift.

Soon one of the Sliveen returned and informed Lord Koudung that cattle had been located and they are large and fatted indeed. Images of the fatted cattle filled the Daemon Battlemaster’s mind and digestive acids filled his mouth, leaving him barely able to issue orders without drooling on his armor. Hefting his enormous battleax, he led his Hunn warriors to the field of impending glory.

The Sliveen Scouts Commander, having sent a messenger back to Lord Koudung, turned his attention back to the herd of cattle he was observing. One of the cows looked to be using a simple tool to smash something in a clear container. The other cows stood rapt, as cattle are wont to do, watching the bigger cow exert himself. “This will be like shooting Thresh in a Bloodpot,” thought the Sliveen Commander as he ordered his Scouts to silently disburse and choose lines of fire. He would bring down this herd before Lord Koudung could make it here and take the glory for himself. Directing the others to take other targets, he signaled that the exceptionally large one was for him, and him alone, to take.

Luckily, the largest one was not wearing leg coverings like the others. He would cripple the beast and let it live for a while to marinade in its terror. Then, he would take the ears for trophies. Lining up his shot, he pulled on the bow, feeling the reassuring resistance and let loose the first arrow that would change his career trajectory and bring notice from the Queen herself.

***

Just as Rhino began dropping ice into the glass he jerked, as if in pain, and threw the hand full of cubes all over the bar. Standing rigid he bellowed, “OW! MOTHERFUCKER! WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK WAS THAT?”

Looking down, Rhino saw an inch-long piece of wood protruding from his calf. “Motherfucker but that hurts,” he said. Reaching down, he tried to pull it out but felt resistance. Gritting his teeth, he pulled harder, skin stretching, and the sliver finally popped out. The tiny wound began to bleed freely. Examining the sliver of wood, Rhino saw a barbed point, akin to an arrowhead, at the tip of the splinter.

“Hey, guys, take a look at this –“ Rhino said in surprise, but stopped cold when he saw Murph, Boylan and McKinney all doing what looked like an Irish Jig, screaming and swatting at their arms and faces, inch long slivers of wood buried in their skin.

Rhino felt another bee sting, this time in his thigh. He looks down at the splinter piercing him and saw movement on the floor. “Whaaaaaaat the fuuuuuuck?” he said as he examined what looks like a six-inch tall praying mantis, only lots uglier, carrying what looked like a tiny long bow.

“What the fucking fuck,” he asks himself. “Is that a fucking praying mantis shooting tiny arrows at us? Jesus H. Christ - and I haven’t even had any gin yet.”

Rhino scooted his bulk around the bar and yelled, “c’mon guys take cover.” Murph, wasting no time, did a belly flop over the bar, crashing into the sink, sending a tray of dirty glasses waiting to be washed flying. McKinney and Boylan scampered like a couple of rodeo clowns being chased by an angry bull around the end of the bar and hunkered down on the floor. The remaining patrons in the bar ran screaming for the doors.

“It would appear that this establishment has a nasty infestation of insects,” Boylan said as he pulled on a splinter that was dangerously close to his left eye.

McKinney chimes in, “Hell, I thought we grew ‘em big in Texas.”

“I wonder how they taste?” Boylan asked, examining one of them up close.

Pulling Murph from the floor Rhino asked, “What the fuck are those things?”

“Arrow shooting praying mantises?” Murph responded. “Are you kidding? I’ve never seen anything like that before in my life and I grew up here.”

That’s when a high-pitched scream of sheer terror and pain reached them. “The Bartender! Where did she go?” Rhino demanded.

“No clue,” Boylan said, still scrutinizing one of the insects. Shrugs and nods from Murph and McKinney closed the circle of ignorance.

“Well, shit, we can’t leave her out there. Murph, you and Boylan go around the far side of the bar. McKinney and I will go out this side. Put the boots to those little motherfuckers.”

Murph and Boylan crawled to the other end of the bar. Boylan picked up a bottle of whiskey on his way to use as a cudgel if necessary. When they reached the end of the bar, Rhino yelled “Go!” and they all ran around to the front of the bar scanning for the Bartender.

The assembled Knights of the Burger Gothic froze and stared at the horrible tableau in front of them.

The bartender was sprawled on the floor at the far side of the bar closest to Murph and Boylan. The praying mantis ‘things’ were crawling all over her. Three of the things were hacking at her throat with - ‘are those axes?’ - and they must have hit something vital because there was blood streaming everywhere, coating the floor around her. Two more of the - ‘holy shit, not praying mantises, they’re monsters. Might as well call ‘em what they are,’ Rhino thought - were jamming longer versions of the arrows -‘spears?’- into her eyes. Was one of those things really reaching in and pulling out chunks of her eyeball and eating them? The Bartender was barely moving and her screams stopped, probably because of the gaping holes in her neck.

Rhino could feel his gorge rise, ‘Ah, hells no, are those other ones sticking their heads into her neck wounds and eating, too?’

Rhino and McKinney were startled out of their stupor by a piercing war cry that would have made Spartan King Leonides proud. Boylan, with his ancestral war face on, took three powerful strides forward and swung the whiskey bottle in an underhanded arc that caught one of the monsters, still perched and feeding on the girls face, with a solid CLUNK, sending it flying to splatter on the wall. Then Murph was there, reaching into the gore of the poor girl’s throat, pulling two of the creatures out.

“Nobody eats a bartender in my town!” he shouted, smashing the little monsters head-first into the top of the bar over and over again until they were nothing but black ichor pulp.

By this time McKinney and Rhino arrived. The remaining monsters, seeing the tide of battle turning, tried to retreat.

“I don’t think so,” Rhino said and moved to cut them off, so focused on the little bastards he didn’t see the trail of blood in his path. Wood covered in blood makes an ice-like surface. He skidded. Both of his feet went flying into the air in a spectacular back flop. The retreating Sliveen screamed in tiny terror as 350 pounds of Rhino came slamming down on top of them, squashing them flat.

***

McKinney leaned down offering Rhino a hand up. “Well, that’s certainly one way of doing it,” McKinny said.

Rhino stood and everyone just looked at each other in shock. Boylan was taking a healthy slug from the bottle cum weapon. Murph was wiping ichor from his hands with a bar towel. McKinney was over by the wall, toeing a smashed mantis-thing.

“Well, it looks like we got all of the little motherfuckers”, Rhino said looking at the mutilated body of the Bartender. “Hell, I didn’t even have a chance to get her name.”

That’s when they heard the rhythmic tapping of metal on metal and guttural growls coming from the other side of the room.

***

Lord Kuodung Ur Hunn stood at the head of his Talons, now arrayed neatly in battle order. It seemed that over the millennia the cattle had evolved some teeth as he had just seen the fattest of the cattle throw himself onto the retreating Sliveen. The cattle had inadvertently done the Battlemaster Lord a favor as it appeared that the Sliveen were running from the cattle and cowardice had just one reward - death.

This should be interesting. The scrolls said that the cattle would often curl up in terror upon seeing a Hunn Lord. Making it all that much easier to slice their throats and bathe in their bloodwine. The cattle were large, but stupid, and the Hunn were strong and the sight of that much meat on the hoof just made them that much more determined. “Remember the scrolls, cut the heels of the cattle and they will fall so that you can get at their throats.”

Lord Kuodung could feel the beat of the bloodsong that his great battleax was singing in anticipation of the coming slaughter. The beat worked its way through his great chest and down his arms and he began to rap the ax against his shield. His warriors took up the beat as well and lifted their voices in a guttural war chant. The bloodlust was on them now. Nothing would stop them from the glory to be found today.

Lord Kuodung Ur Hunn strode forward to recount his titles and glories to these cattle. This honor was to be their repayment for their dispatching of the cowardly Sliveen.

***

"Um, guys, you might want to take a look at this," an ashen-faced Murph said, pointing to the other side of the room. “I think the mantis guys had buddies. A lot of buddies.”

Rhino followed Murph's finger and saw what looked to be foot tall creatures, lined up in in an orderly fashion, - 'holy shit they look like Roman fighting squares.' - beating swords and axes against tiny shields and bellowing their little heads off. A bigger one was standing at the front of the squares, - ‘the boss monster maybe?’ The boss creature began to walk towards them. It took some time for him to get halfway across the room as its legs were so short. It stopped, raised its shield and battleax and began to chitter at them. "Is that thing talking to us?” asked Rhino, not turning his head away from the creature.

"My guess would be some sort of challenge." said Murph. Boylan nodded his concurrence, not taking the lip of the whiskey bottle from his mouth.

"McKinney, would you mind seeing if they have any 151 behind that bar?" asked Rhino.

McKinney walked backwards around the end of the bar and started sorting through the bottles, grabbled one and made his way back to the group. "This should do ya if y'all are going to do what I think y'all are going to do,” McKinney said.

Rhino nodded, "Great minds and all that. Can you open it up and stuff a rag in?"

McKinney grabbed a bar towel and ripped a couple of strips and stuffed them into the opening of the bottle leaving a couple of inches protruding from the top. He then upended it so that the exposed pieces of cloth were saturated with the alcohol.

"You guys need to grab whatever weapons you can,” Rhino said, taking the bottle from McKinney, “’cause it looks like the boss man is winding down and I suspect the shit will be hitting the fan when he gets done."

Emboldened by his earlier success, Boylan grabbed another bottle from behind the bar. “This aggression will not stand,” he said and stood ready with a bottle in each hand.

Murph grabbed a couple of oversized and wickedly sharp carving knives that passed for steak knives in Kansas City and readied himself next to Boylan. McKinney stood bare handed.

"McKinney, are you planning to cross examine them to death?" Boylan asked.

McKinney, pointing down to his boots, replied, "For these little bastards all I need are my trusty Texas shit kickers," he said.

The boss creature walked languidly back to the other creatures- 'his troops?' and turned to face them again. Rhino took this opportunity to fish his cigar lighter from his sporran and light the makeshift Molotov cocktail. The wick flared up bright blue as a new roar rose from the pack of creatures and they began running towards the men.

Rhino underhanded the Molotov cocktail. It landed and shattered just behind the boss creature spraying an arc of flaming rum over a large number of creatures and setting them on fire.

“I guess they aren’t fireproof,” Rhino opined over their high pitched screams.

“Smells a bit like chicken,” Boylan observed.

The trailing creatures that escaped the initial conflagration ran around the edges of the spreading pool of fire and continued to close.

"Okay, boys, we got lucky with that shot but there are a helluva lot more left," Rhino said realizing that he was now empty handed. Turning in panic he grabbed the only thing at hand, the sturdy potato masher still covered in lime pulp. 'Christ almighty am I'm about to fight monsters with a goddamned potato masher?' was the absurd thought he had as the line of monsters were crossing the last few feet between the two groups.

McKinney scored first blood as he stepped forward and punted one of the creatures across the room to splat against a wall with a sickening crunch. It burst like a tick and slid down the wall, leaving a black trail. The creatures surrounded McKinny and began to hack and stab at his boots. "These boots cost me a thousand bucks, you assholes, you better not scratch 'em." shouted McKinney as he began to Texas two-step them into oblivion.

Murph waded in, knives swinging in great arcs, each slice decapitating or rending one of the creatures in half. Black ichor splashing everywhere, covering his hands and forearms. One of the knives went flying away.

"Ow!“ Murph cried out in pain. “One of them cut me.” He put his bleeding thumb in his mouth out of instinct. Gagging on the taste of the black goop covering his hands he began to retch and vomited up his half-digested dinner all over the creatures attacking him. That seemed to take the fight out of the creatures for a moment and gave him a chance to spit out the last of the vomit, wipe his mouth with the front of this shirt and wade back into the fight.

Boylan was a Greek Whirling Dervish of Death with his bottles; smashing creatures left and right, swatting them away, their broken bodies flying through the air. He kept on a steady patter, speaking to the creatures, "How dare you invade our dinner party and disturb our Wa,” he shouted. “If there is anything I cannot abide, it is rudeness. And you <clunk> tiny <clunk> excuses for orcs <clunk> are very, <clunk> very <clunk> rude indeed." <clunk><clunk><clunk></clunk></clunk></clunk></clunk></clunk></clunk></clunk></clunk>

Rhino looked down to see the boss monster taking a great swing at the toe of his Doc Martens. The little battleaxe split the leather like butter and continued cutting down into his big toe.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" screamed Rhino, "That hurts like a BITCH." Raising the potato masher above his head he brought it down with a thud where the boss monster used to be. The little guy did a superhero flip away from the masher and came up striking Rhino's other foot with slightly different results. The little battleaxe again split leather and cut toe but this time it got stuck.

"YOU HAVE TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!' yelled Rhino bringing the potato masher up for another swing. This time the potato masher connected with the boss crushing him to the ground.

“HA! Got you, you fucking fuck!" Rhino bellowed.

Rhino gave the boss a few more mashes for good measure and stood up to take stock of the action and saw that the fight was dying down. Any of the creatures still alive were running back the way that they came. Murph, McKinney and Boylan chased them down, finishing those that they could reach. Some of the creatures disappeared down a back stairway, probably leading to the basement.

"Come back guys." called Rhino as Boylan started down the stairs. "We don't know how many more are down there."

The three men made their way back to the bar where Rhino sat down on a stool and removed his shoes. Neat cuts in the socks over his big toes revealed inch long gashes in the skin and the blood was turning the white socks red. "Do you know how much good kilt hose costs?" was all he said as he removed the hose and used them to put pressure on the cuts.

"Who in their right mind would have thought that Kansas City would have a Hellmouth?" Boylan asked, cracking open one of his ichor covered bottles and taking a long drink.

"I guess that would make you guys the Geriatric Scooby Gang then." Murph retorted while taking the bottle from Bolyan and taking a large swig.

Surveying the carnage McKinney drawled, "Boys, I don't know what the hell that was, but I'm thinking that we got a dead body over there, crispy critters over there and a buttload of squashed and cut up critters everywhere else and when the police get here we're going to have some 'splainin to do."

Opening the second bottle, as it appeared that Murph was not going to give up his death grip on the first, Boylan took another long drink and says, "Well, between all of the assembled dead creatures, the collective legal powers vested in us by the states of California and Texas and –“ Boylan pointed up at a security camera on the wall behind the bar, "- the footage from that security camera, that I hope is working, well, I think that we've got a pretty solid story," Boylan said as he began gathering up some of the dead insect warrior creatures.

"That's if the men in black don't show up first and they lock us in the loony bin," muttered Rhino.

Looking back at the bar Rhino saw that the gin and four glasses that he prepared earlier were untouched. Going behind the bar, he scoops up more ice and finishes filling the glasses. Grabbing a spoon he gives each a couple of stirs and garnishes the glasses with a slice of lime. Hearing sirens in the distance, he hands a glass to each of the men, and then holding his up he says, "To Murph and his upcoming nuptials."

"To Murph" McKinney and Boylan intone then all four drink until their glasses are empty and smash them to the floor.

"Holy shit, Rhino, I think that boss one is still alive." exclaimed Murph pointing at the creature. The creature’s chest was rising and falling in a belabored way.

Reaching into his sporran again, Rhino came up with a cigar and cutter. Snipping the end of the cigar he searched around for his lighter and found it behind one of the bar stools. Standing, he lit the cigar and took several long puffs. "Damn, but that's a fine stogie. I was saving it for a special occasion like this."

“Do you think they have a deep fryer in this place?” Boylan asked.

"Murph, I'm really sorry that your bachelor party got fucked," Rhino said as he stepped over to the boss creature. "But I know one monster that won't be crashing anymore parties." With that he puffed on the cigar until the tip was bright red then he reached down and put it out on the face of the boss monster. Black smoke rose as it burned its way through the thing's face down to its skull. He then took the potato masher and smashed its head. "That’s for the girl, Motherfucker" he said and spat on the dead, burning thing.

Waving the smoke from the burning creature from his face McKinney said, “Damn, if that doesn’t smell just like burning cow shit.”

The sound of the sirens was just outside now, the squealing of tires of rapidly decelerating cars and the opening and slamming car doors announcing the arrival of the local authorities.

Rhino turned to his fellow warriors, "Well gents, I think this is where our quest ends, at least for the moment. Do you think Cindy will bail us out? Oh, and Murph, you need to tell Birmo about this. This would make for one hell of a story. Only, you'd have to tell him to make the monsters a little bit bigger to make them reasonably scary. These things were pussies."

61 Responses to ‘"The Bachelor Party", by Roger 'The Rhino' Ross - Fanfest 2015’

insomniac ducks in to say...

Posted March 19
That was as AWSM as promised. Like the idea of miniaturizing them, it reminds me of a cartoon I have vague memories of.

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Darth Greybeard asserts...

Posted March 19
And the battle fleets in Hitchhiker's Guide that were swallowed by a small dog. Come to think of it, didn't one of the leaders wear jewelled battle-shorts? Or was it a sequinned battle-kilt? Anyway, it was indeed totally AWSM but I have a question. Did the Rhino's potato-masher become an ensorcelled weapon of Great Power, capable of mashing baskets of limes with a single stroke?

Paul_Nicholas_Boylan swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted March 20
"...the commander of the Vl'hurgs, resplendent in his black jeweled battle shorts ..."

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she_jedi asserts...

Posted March 19
Ah so now we know where JB gets his ideas from! That was fantastic Rhino, loved it :)

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Paul_Nicholas_Boylan has opinions thus...

Posted March 20
Small gods and tiny monsters.

Finally - drama. And a depiction of the Boylan that included action balanced by hints of admirable culinary curiosity.

And it is exceedingly polite - mentioning McKinney's tourette syndrome not even once.

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Senator TeaserPone has opinions thus...

Posted March 20
You can't fault Rhino's keen eye for character.

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TexasTeaserPony would have you know...

Posted March 20
Well, for the most part, you can't. Who the fuck is Boylan, anyway?

Paul_Nicholas_Boylan would have you know...

Posted March 20
Boylan's just this guy, you know?

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GhostSwirv puts forth...

Posted March 20

Rhino - WOW ... It's like a G & T designed by Irwin Allen, Douglas Adams, Clive of India & McGyver.
I'm partial to a Bloody Mary me self - so I wonder what ingredients might be in a Bloody Low Queen?

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GhostSwirv reckons...

Posted March 20

Rhino - WOW ... It's like a G & T designed by Irwin Allen, Douglas Adams, Clive of India & McGyver.
I'm partial to a Bloody Mary me self - so I wonder what ingredients might be in a Bloody Low Queen?

Rhino puts forth...

Posted March 20
I'm sure that it would have a bloody chicken embryo in it.
Believe me, that was a lot nicer than what I was going to originally say.

GhostSwirv ducks in to say...

Posted March 20

Dear Rhino,Despite what is written directly below, I have now quite sobered up after you have revealed the recipe for a Bloody Low Queen.

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GhostSwirv mumbles...

Posted March 20
I'm not drunk, I'm not, well ... not yet - hey hi there cute little guy!

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Rhino puts forth...

Posted March 20
If it is any good it is due to the influence of Boylan and Murph.
Anything wrong belongs to me.
The funny thing is seeing it again I can see a million things I need to edit and/or expand on or clarify.
I can see how real authors fall into this trap. It was like a drug when I sent that off.

Paul_Nicholas_Boylan mutters...

Posted March 20
It is a horrible, horrible drug. It begins slow and easy with blog posting, maybe some fanfic. But it grows into a monster and can lead to essays, poetry and even into the black pit of despair known as journalism.

That way madness lies; shun that; have no more of that.

Except that I think your story is ripe for a sequel. So shun that, have no more of that after the sequel.

Rhino mumbles...

Posted March 20
Enabler. Damn, evil enabler.

Therbs ducks in to say...

Posted March 20
I'm gonna need another six pack and a couple of bottles of vin non ordinaire to finish my scribbling.

she_jedi ducks in to say...

Posted March 20
Me too! I'm hoping to get it finished tonight but the way the hellmouth opened up under my desk at work this week, actually getting home tonight is looking doubtful.

Murphy reckons...

Posted March 21
Yeah, turn back before it eats you alive.
That said, a sequel before you do shouldn't hurt. Just have another drink.
Respects,
Murph
On the Outer Marches

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Berry mutters...

Posted March 20
Rhino, this was a fun read and had cigar-chompin' cachet to recommend it!!!

Murphy mumbles...

Posted March 21
Every action piece needs some cigar chomping, American bad ass in it.

Darth Greybeard is gonna tell you...

Posted March 21
We refer to them as either Comic Relief or The First One To Die.

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Leo is gonna tell you...

Posted March 20
Don't know the cast (except Rhino) or the universe, but that was funny as hell.

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Dave W would have you know...

Posted March 20
So good. So, so good.

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Anthony swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted March 20
That was a gem.

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Therbs asserts...

Posted March 20
Fits the bill for great Rhino action. Love it.

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JG reckons...

Posted March 20
That was epic, Rhino. Absolutely fabulous.

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Justin puts forth...

Posted March 20
Faaaaarrrrkkk that was funny!!!!would be my favorite one yet. Guess I better get on with it and read the books now.......
Can we have some more please?

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SZF has opinions thus...

Posted March 20
A bucket of Sapphire with a heady dash of meta. Love it. Well played Rhino.

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Rhino swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted March 21
Anyone want a sequel?
Snippet to see if you are interested...
The Wedding Day

Untold Hunn and Fangr fell beneath his great battleax as we waded in among the throngs of the hated enemy. His war cry was a weapon, freezing the opposition in terror, making it easy to harvest their heads. Splitting skulls sprayed ichor and he exulted in the blood shower. He was powerful indeed and no foe could stand against him. He was all powerful. A Hunn Battlemaster in his prime.<o:p></o:p>

A shadow fell over the battlefield. The Hunn looked up to see a giant standing before him. No matter. This enemy would fall like all of the others. Steeling himself, he charged forward to slay this giant. Then, all he knew was pain as the giant brought his great weapon down on his body, crushing him. Again and again the flail breaking bones until it was agony to breathe. Unthinkable defeat. The giant was speaking to him now. Gibberish. A great burning sun was descending upon him now. Burning agony and then nothing.<o:p></o:p>

Drenched in a cold sweat Rhino bolted upright, half awake, flailing arms to fend off his enemies. Jarred from the depths of the nightmare –memories? - he slowly became aware of his surroundings. A hotel room. Kansas City. Murph’s bachelor party from hell. Being taken into custody, the endless questions and sudden release with no explanation. Getting back to the hotel room as the sun was rising and only wanting to take a hot shower and hit the rack for a few hours before he had to attend Murph’s wedding.<o:p></o:p>

Standing and anticipating the usual Rice Krispies ‘snap, crackle and pop’ of his joints and back, he felt surprisingly good. Stretching back and forth and side to side, the morning warm-up that would allow him to walk to the bathroom with minimal pain, he was surprised that there was none. Zero. He moved better than in years as a matter of fact. Odd, as he had felt terrible when the adrenaline rush ran after doing that spectacular back flop on those Mantis things yesterday. Normally, a fall like that would see him eating Advil like M&M’s and bathing in Ben Gay for a few days.<o:p></o:p>

Looking over at the standard hotel-issue desk he saw the potato masher that, for some unknown reason, he insisted on keeping. Maybe it was just a souvenir of the bizarre adventure that they had the night before. <o:p></o:p>

GhostSwirv reckons...

Posted March 21

So you've given us the Bachelor Party, I'm keen to see The Wedding Ceremony, but I demand to see what happens at the Wedding Reception ... in my mind you will forever be known as The Rhino.

Darth Greybeard reckons...

Posted March 21
Yesss! Hmm. Name for a potato masher? Colleen? She could sing Gaelic battle songs in the Rhino's head as he fights.

Paul_Nicholas_Boylan asserts...

Posted March 21
Why are magical weapons always given women's names?

I have very little influence in any of this, but I will be lobbying hard for the mystic potato masher to be christened "Otto."

she_jedi swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted March 21
I think the most seductive aspect of this universe is the idea that you can kill a monster, then wake up the next morning feeling fantastic, the creaks and groans of increasing age a memory. I'd totally brain a Battlemaster with something if it meant I could have the flexibility and energy I did as a 10 year old in my 38 year old body. I resent my 10 year old self for totally taking all that for granted.
Oh, that and the instant weight loss and supermodel physique paired with being able to eat ANYTHING. I'd be the smuggest of smug bitches if I could do that.

Darth Greybeard would have you know...

Posted March 21
she_jedi: yes but even more so.Paul: No. In one of my favourite musicals, the Hound of Music, one of Dr Von Frankentrapp's hand-made children was called Otto.(https://www.rjcox.com.au/55/images/OA/OTTO_MGB_4_Wheel_flat_lid.jpg)
I have had nightmares about that name ever since.

Rhino reckons...

Posted March 21
Boylan, you know that I love you like a brother. Albeit a dark skinned, black sheep, no one likes to talk about brother ... but a brother nonetheless.
And, I acknowledge, that many of the wonderful things that people enjoyed in The Bachelor Party were your direct influence standing behind the throne as per usual.
However, I will never, ever, ever, ever name the potato masher of mashening Otto. Or any other masculine name. I'm sorry. Just not happening.
Unless it was funny. Then I'd totally do it. Maybe a gay Otto. Giving Rhino shit about his wardrobe. In a german accent.

No, no, no .. that would be horrible.
But funny.
DAMN.
Oh, shit, I just realized that Boylan is my muse. I am so fucked beyond belief that I'm going to end it all.

NBlob has opinions thus...

Posted March 21
Degree of F*cked = critical.But he has point, damn his brown eyes, In Aust Otto has context as well as a pleasing palindromic symmetry.

Paul_Nicholas_Boylan is gonna tell you...

Posted March 22
"a pleasing palindromic symmetry"

Exactly. It also allows quasi-dada possibilities, and this pleases me very much.

Anthony puts forth...

Posted March 22
she-jedi
I'd be happy to have the strength and flexibility of my 38 year old body..
Murphy would have been a good name for the potato masher if someone hadn't already claimed it.
Champ is appropriate since it's also an Irish mashed potato dish and has the right resonance.

Murphy would have you know...

Posted March 23
Yeah! Fuck that Murphy guy for taking the Potato Masher's name.
:D

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Murphy would have you know...

Posted March 21
Rhino, my man, I am late to the party here but I just have to say, yet again, I think you pulled this off brilliantly.
Now, of course, we need to see if anyone crashes the wedding. I have a feeling the Kilted Champion of Georgia wielding the Limeslaying Potato Masher of Mashening will have to take decisive action yet again.
And where is Havock's piece? He can't take time off from playing cricket to write his own contribution?
Respects,
Murph
On the Outer Marches

Rhino has opinions thus...

Posted March 21
I'm thinking 10 Talons upon 10?
You know ... to even shit up.

Murphy asserts...

Posted March 23
I think we need a hundred.

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Halwes reckons...

Posted March 21

Hey NBlob, a little cat 2 heading for us now. Not sure but this one might be the real deal. What the @#$%? I just got cleaned up after the last one.

NBlob puts forth...

Posted March 21
Yup. Unless it doesn't. Heard once "the safest place in a cyclone is where the BOM forecast it'd land 3 days ago." Pardon the pun, but it blows me away that a 5 or 10HPa difference, over >27 deg sea + roll 10 for damage = big blow, big rain & sea lensing. But it is the size of Ireland so I guess even with a small energy differential it carries authority.

Halwes mutters...

Posted March 22

That was close but no cigar. No more than a two day severe thunderstorm. No sustained wind death howl. Only cat 2. I would hate to see the middle of a cat 4.The champion blackfellas at Galiwinku copped it at cat 2 squarely again. I wonder what you've got when you've got nothing and it gets blown away again.

NBlob would have you know...

Posted March 23
Glad to hear it comrade. As for what does one have when one has nothing and its blown away? In QLD we'd call that a development opportunity.

NBlob reckons...

Posted March 23
Friend of yours?http://rapidfire.sci.gsfc.nasa.gov/cgi-bin/imagery/single.cgi?image=Nathan.A2015081.0105.1km.jpg&utm_content=bufferafb94&utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter.com&utm_campaign=buffer

NBlob asserts...

Posted March 23
https://mobile.twitter.com/JamesPurtill/status/579847861975654400/photo/1

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Rhino ducks in to say...

Posted March 21
Oh, shit, I have to name the potato masher. Damn. That is way too much. Never mind. I quit.

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Paul_Nicholas_Boylan mumbles...

Posted March 22
Okay, I withdraw Otto as a suggested name for the charmed potato masher. How do you feel about Helmut or Nigel? I am partial to Phillip as a terrible name for a magic weapon. And I am fascinated by the dramatic possibilities of Lucille singing the Dave songs of death and battle contrasted with Nigel humming tunes critical of the Rhino's fashion sense.

If the potato masher must have female gender, I suggest Agnes. Perhaps Dorcas.

Remember it is canon that the magic weapons appear to name themselves. So the masher's chosen name would not be a reflection on the Rhino's character. It would merely be something that just happened with no meaning whatsoever - lending to that vague and difficult to articulate quasi-dada vibe I so crave.

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GhostSwirv mutters...

Posted March 22

Following on from the excellent quasi-legal advice from Prof Boylan might I recommend that the Masher's name be inspired by the names of alcoholic beverages of dubious medicinal properties likely to be found in an establishment inhabited by the members of the Bachelor Party.

Bitters, Advocat, Curaçao and a raft of other exotics spring to mind.

Of course when in doubt something Germanic is always gudt ... Brunhild?

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Jon puts forth...

Posted March 22
Well done Rhino! I especially liked the vomit as a delaying tactic.

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Ceramic puts forth...

Posted March 23
Ha Rhino, that was pretty damm funny :) Love how they're miniatures too hehe.

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Another John mumbles...

Posted March 24
Sounds like a lime mojito being made rather than a Gin and Tonic.
If the good folk at Bacardi wanted that much lime in their gin they're more than capable of putting it in there!
Incidentally Rhino should try Tasmania's Lark Distillery gin with pepperberry in the botanical mix.

Paul_Nicholas_Boylan swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted 2 hours ago
What is pepperberry?

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jennicki asserts...

Posted Tuesday
Hahahaha hahahaha!!!!!!!

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HAVOCK21 ducks in to say...

Posted 2 hours ago
nuts, fkn nuts!

WICKED my good man, positively, fkn wicked. good job R.

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Respond to '"The Bachelor Party", by Roger 'The Rhino' Ross - Fanfest 2015'

"The Old Man" by Frazer - Fanfest 2015

Posted March 18 by John Birmingham

Oh man, this so harsh.

The old man crawled out of the cardboard box he called his home. Putting his hands on a wooden crate, he slowly lifted his aching body to its feet. Satisfied he had obtained some equilibrium, he reached for the sky with outstretched arms, sucking in a deep, deep breath as his hands climbed upwards before arcing downwards, finally coming to rest at his sides. He shifted slightly and left a gunshot-like echo bouncing along the walls of the narrow alley. His hands were once again called in to action, moving swiftly towards his face and frantically waving in front of his nostrils. He staggered back a step, unsure if it was his flatulence or the ongoing effects of the previous night's consumption of several bottles of Passion Pop that was the cause. Passion Pop may not have won many awards but it was cheap, damn cheap, and it helped wile away the hours he spent in his single room apartment. Well, that and the well thumbed 1975 issue of Playboy someone had tossed over one day.

Although the sky above was blue and bright, the alley was dark and cold. Sunlight rarely penetrated a few feet past the entrance, giving the alley an inhospitable appearance. The old man didn't care. He wasn't so hospitable these days anyway. He had once oozed a certain charm, but that was long gone. He still oozed of course, but it wasn't very charming. The ladies didn't dig that quite so much.

He shuffled towards the entrance to the alley, towards the sunshine, where he hoped he might be able to warm his bones and get a little more mobile. He needed that to start his day. No one was going to be handing him a skim caramelatte with one to go.

As he turned the corner he saw a couple of punk ass teenagers hassling one of the old bums who lived on the street.

'Get the fuck off my lawn, you punk ass kids'.

Three very bewildered faces turned to look at the speaker of those words. The old bum was the first to speak.

'Huh?'

The two teenagers didn't speak. They just laughed at the sorry sight of some crazy old man who didn't seem to know his arse from his elbow, or concrete from grass, and turned to resume their activities.

The old man repeated his first statement.
'Get the fuck off my lawn'.
'Yeah right, grandpa'.
'Don't grandpa me, punk. Don't you know who I am?'

'Popeye's uncle?'

The old man drew himself up, puffed out his chest and said, 'I'm the Dave. I'm SuperDave. You know, splitting maul swinging Dave. Legen ... wait for it'

'Wait for what, dude?'
'... dary cock punching Dave.'

'That's ancient history, man. Who gives a shit these days? You're nothing. You had your 15 minutes, and now you're nothing. Piss off and crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of.'

With that, the punk ass teenagers gave up and walked off, all the while keeping one eye stalk on the crazy old man who called himself 'the Dave'.

11 Responses to ‘"The Old Man" by Frazer - Fanfest 2015’

Rhino puts forth...

Posted March 18
Loved the ending. Nicely done.

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she_jedi is gonna tell you...

Posted March 19
That ending! Genius.

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Paul_Nicholas_Boylan would have you know...

Posted March 19
I liked it, but wondered what happened to Lucile - and then I knew: she ran off with another splitting maul.

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Darth Greybeard mumbles...

Posted March 19
Oh that's cold. Great but cold. Poor Dave, minus his mojo.

John Birmingham is gonna tell you...

Posted March 19
It's the loss of oozy charm that really hurts.

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GhostSwirv mutters...

Posted March 19


Threshy teenagers - that is sheer genius!

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Halwes mumbles...

Posted March 19
Great story. Off topic ntnews.com.au headline today for an article calling for breathalysers on the water for recreational boat users (the bastards and their police state again) "Drunken Seamen Hard to Swallow"

NBlob mutters...

Posted March 19

mmph mm mmrnmm


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JG swirls their brandy and claims...

Posted March 19
Talk about screwing the knife in. Poor Dave. That's gotta hurt, JB.

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Therbs is gonna tell you...

Posted March 20
Well played!

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NBlob puts forth...

Posted March 21
Excellent. Peak fanfic.

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Respond to '"The Old Man" by Frazer - Fanfest 2015'