Ben Paddon's Stories

How are the INTERNETS gonna know what I'm up to? - Nerdcore

2008-07-19T02:46:13Z

I go from Ficlets to Flickr to Twitter, quite fast, no, quicker.
They’re like Liquor, I go for too long without some and I quiver,
Get the shakes. And you can’t take ‘em away, you won’t make me.
I won’t flee. I need these sites now, you see.
But it bothers me, when they go down quite unexpectedly.
A defeat! Eep! I can’t get on Twitter to Tweet!
ZEIG HEIL ! The Fail Whale appear on the screen,
Mocking me. “Vweehehehee! Drink from the teat of defeat!”
Well that’s a downer. How are the INTERNETS gonna know what I’m up to?
I sit and twiddle my thumbs, “I hope their site comes back up soon.”
I can’t read anyone’s Tweets, and no one’s able to read mine.
I’m probably not the only one who’s having a little whine.
I think I’ll write a Ficlet and look at photos to pass the time.
I’m sure if I get creative then I’ll be just fine.
And I’m right… except the bloody pages won’t load.
And Flickr’s just as useless, as the server’s overflowed.
I go “Oh no!” and my cranium explodes,
And the lesson taught here is don’t smoke.

No More Games

2008-07-17T00:02:45Z

Carl hadn’t wanted this. He’d believed in an afterlife. He’d believed there’d be clouds. Harps. Wings. An open buffet. He did not expect a Fun Party Game For Two Or More Players. Certainly he didn’t expect that to be all there was to life after death.

He was mostly infuriated by the fact that the only other person in this afterlife was Bernard. He’d have understood if they’d died together, or if they were friends reunited in the afterlife. But Carl had died of testicular cancer, and he’d learnt through conversation that Bernard had accidentally killed himself by sticking a wet fork in a plug socket, because he “wanted to know what would happen.” There was no connection between the two, other than the fact that they were both very much dead.

They’d been sat in silence for what had felt like an eternity, when all of a sudden a curious thing happened. An object slowly phased into existence in the center of the Twister board. Carl saw… and groaned. Bernard smiled.

“Battleship!” he said, gleefully.

Getting Into Character

2008-07-15T05:41:35Z

He dragged himself into the room, carefully shutting the door behind him, and dropped himself down onto the couch. It was late, the room illuminated only by the light of the moon shining through the window.

A sensible Shrink would have probably turned the light on, but this client, an actor who booked late-night appointments and paid plenty of money for the privilege, much preferred having his sessions take place in the dark. Besides, she was hardly sensible. She was far more concerned with this client’s wallet than his mind.

“How are we today, Mr. Garret?” she asked.

“Not entirely sure,” replied the Actor. He eyes were transfixed on his hands, although the Shrink couldn’t see this.

“Are you still having difficulty… getting out of character?”

“Sometimes,” he said, “I feel like I’ve finally clicked out of it.”

“Sometimes.”

“Yes. And sometimes,” he held his hands up, and she could see the blood dripping from his fingers. “Sometimes I don’t.”

She drew in breath to scream. She didn’t get the chance.

Citation Needed

2008-07-12T08:17:48Z

“I tell you what, though,” said Greg, sipping his coffee. “I wouldn’t mind being on Wikipedia.”

“You can register an account for free,” said James, not really looking away from his monitor.

“No, I mean on Wikipedia. My own article.”

James rolled his eyes. “So start one. It’ll just get deleted.”

“That’s the problem. I want an article that won’t get deleted.”

“You’re not notable,” James sighed, more out of annoyance than anything else. “You’ll have to have done something notable. What you’re really saying is that you wish you’d done something worthwhile.”

“Yes,” nodded Greg. “Worthwhile enough to get in Wikipedia.”

James felt a nerve bulge on his forehead. “So do something notable, then.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know,” James said, shrugging.

“Well you’re no help.”

“Greg, You’re asking me to come up with a way to make you important enough to merit your own article on an online encyclopedia anyone can edit. If that’s your only aspiration then you seriously need to reconsider your priorities.”

Bahlen the Barbarian in: Damsels and Dragons

2008-05-27T00:25:04Z

Bahlen the Barbarian looked down at the valley below, the sunlight silhouetting his Godlike figure. The Shoru Dragon frenzied through the village. Bahlen and his accomplice, Claatu, had been tracking this beast for days. Now, drawing their swords, they were prepared to bring its slaughterous rampage to an end. Moments later they were at the foot of the hill, in full combat with the beast.

“So…?” asked Claatu as its tail, sharp as an axe, swished past his face, mere millimeters away from removing his nose.

“I don’t know,” said Bahlen, leaping in to hack the flaying appendage. “I’m kind of torn. I mean, I told myself I’d never return to the Barada Province, but if there’s anything worth going back for…” He twisted, lopping off one of the beast’s five heads. ”...It’s her.”

“Wow.” He narrowly dodged a set of jaws, then lunged for its black heart. “Would you really give up on everything you’ve built here, though?”

“Honestly?” Lunge. “I don’t know. I’m conflicted, y’know?”

“Well, that’s love for you.”

Innocence Lost

2008-05-21T16:23:33Z

Daniel stared at the remains of his drink, the last remaining drops of Guinness in his glass. He could just down it and buy another, but what was the point of that? He’d only drink it, and then he’d be right back here, staring at a nearly empty pint glass, contemplating buying another. He briefly wondered if this apathetic thought was the only thing keeping him from becoming an alcoholic, and then mentally remanded himself for once again over-analyzing his thought process.

“When I was a little boy,” he said to no one in particular, “I never really thought about the color of peoples’ skin until my school started telling me that I shouldn’t. It wasn’t a rebellion thing… I mean, I was six or seven or something like that… I didn’t see skin color. I only saw people. I’d like to think that I still do.”

He looked at his glass again, and without realizing it he’d already downed the last of his drink and ordered another. It was going to be a long night.

Love in Space

2008-05-09T07:43:46Z

“I’m an idiot,” said Franklin as he took a sip of his Synthe-Gin.

“Yep,” nodded Germley the Andropulsian barkeep, the balloon-like nose his race was famous for bobbing gently.

Franklin put his drink down. “I haven’t even told you what I’ve done yet.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, I thought we were just talking generally. So,” he reached for a nearby glass, spat in it (Andropulsian saliva has remarkably similar properties to washing-up liquid) and started to clean it. “Share.”

“There’s this girl on board,” Franklin began. “Crewman Jaim.”

“Oh, she’s spicy.”

“She is that. She’s sort-of in love with me and I think I might like her too.”

“Delicious.”

“And yet I can’t get this other girl I met out of my head. I met her on shore leave back on Titan. She’s incredible. Smart, witty, more curves than a packet of Pringles.”

“The solution here is simple: eat one now, and save one for later.”

“Hang on,” said Franklin. “Eat them?”

“Wait, no. Sorry, I keep forgetting your species doesn’t eat its own. Forget I spoke.”

What a Party

2008-05-08T16:23:45Z

A good party starts just after lunch and will end days later, often somewhere else, and usually with far more people than the host had invited. This party wasn’t quite that good – it was midnight and already things were starting to wind down.

It’d clearly been a fun time. There was a fairly laid-back, relaxed atmosphere now, but somehow Seb couldn’t get comfortable. Maybe it was because he was surrounded by people who’d quite clearly had a fair bit to drink. Or maybe it was the couple to his left who were kissing, fondling, and generally being very naughty.

“Blimey, you look uncomfortable,” said Mark, sitting down to Seb’s right, beer bottle in hand. “Why don’t you ask them to stop?”

“I don’t want to be rude.”

“They’re doing things people usually pay to see, Seb. I don’t think ‘rude’ is an alien concept to them.”

Seb downed the last of his orange juice, turned to the passionate couple and tapped the gentleman on the shoulder.

“Excuse me,” said Seb,”But would you mind… not groping my girlfriend?”

The Closing Bulletin

2008-03-27T18:58:31Z

“It’s not happening,” said Seb as he walked into the pub. He’d assumed Mark would be sat in his usual seat, pint in hand, trying (and failing) to chat up some gorgeous woman. He was almost completely right – there was a red, hand-shaped mark on Mark’s face.

“What’s not happening?” asked Mark. Then his expression changed. “Oh, you mean…”

“Funeral Parlour Girl? Yes,” said Seb as he pulled up a chair. “I think I can safely say that is definitely not happening.”

Mark leaned in towards Seb. “Well what happened?”

“Okay, so MySpace has these Bulletin things, right? And, invariably, people on MySpace tend to flood the Bulletins with pointless, inane, unnecessary and wholly stupid surveys and questionnaires.”

“I’m guessing Funeral Parlour Girl posted one of these surveys.”

“Yes,” sighed Seb. “And, suffice to say, it appears there’s someone else in her life. Someone else she has her eye on.”

“Bugger.”

“That’s what I said. Admittedly I said it a bit louder. And I may have used a slightly stronger word.”

Message Sent Successfully

2008-03-27T13:01:40Z

To: A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To the Funeral…
From: Sebtacular
Date: 27 Mar 2008, 12:02
Subject: A quick Hello!

Body:
Hello, it’s Seb here. I’ve tried calling a couple of times but you haven’t picked up the phone. It’s been during the day though, so I’d imagine you’re probably at work. It’d make sense that you’d have your phone on Silent at work. You do work in a funeral parlour, after all.

I just thought I’d throw a message your way to let you know I’m not a guy. I mean, I am a guy in the sense that I have, y’know, testicles, but I’m not the sort of guy who’s Only After One Thing. I really like you. You’re incredibly cool and fun to talk to on the rare occasions I actually get to, and we share a lot of the same interests. I wouldn’t be half as irritating as I think I’m being if I didn’t think you were worth the effort.

So… y’know. If nothing else, I feel I’ve made a really good friend and I hope I get the chance to see you again. Give me a call, okay?

Take care,
~Seb

The Call That Changed My Destiny

2008-03-26T07:53:40Z

“Hello?”

Seb couldn’t get over just how fantastic her voice was. In fact everything about her was just incredible. It’d taken him an hour to pluck up the courage to give her a call, and hearing her voice seemed more than reward enough.

“Hey,” he said, smiling. “It’s Seb.”

“Hey,” she said. She seemed distracted, but Seb decided he was imagining it. He’d decided before he even picked up the phone that he was going to feign confidence. He’d once been told that if he pretended for long enough it would eventually come naturally, but he hadn’t felt sure enough of himself to try it out.

“So,” said Seb, “You you didn’t really answer my question.”

“Sorry?”

“When I came into the funeral parlour.”

“I’m with a friend at the moment. We’re playing Rayman 2. Could you call another time?”

Seb had been punched in the gut before, but never quite like this.

“Erm, okay. Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Great. Speak to you later!”

Seb looked at his phone in confusion for a few minutes. Being confident, he’d decided, was overrated.

Product Placement

2008-03-26T07:41:18Z

“What are you doing?” asked Dillan as he put another spoonful of delicious Honey Cheerios into his mouth.

Toby put down his Black & Decker™ Multi-purpose Drill and shrugged, the cloth of his Calvin Klein™ shirt hardly crinkling as seen under the B&Q halogen lamp.

“Come on,” smiled Dillan, the corners of his mouth still slightly whitened after having brushed his teeth with new Colgate All-Whitening Toothpaste that morning. “You’ve got something in mind, haven’t you?”

“I haven’t,” said Toby, removing his Ray-Ban™ sunglasses and sitting down on the fabulous Ikea™ kitchen stool. He unwrapped a Kelloggs Nutri-Grain™ breakfast bar and taking a bite. It was strawberry, the finest of berries. “And before you say anything…”

“Look,” Dillan interrupted, raising his hands, the light glinting off of his Swatch™ brand wrist watch. “Leave him be. Drilling a hole in his face isn’t going to solve the problem.”

“No,” said Toby as he took another bite of the delicious breakfast bar, “But it’ll feel so good.“

Hometown

2008-03-26T07:29:42Z

Coming back to his hometown only served to remind him of why he’d left in the first place. Walking through the streets,he could feel the anger in the air, taste it on his lips. It was bitter. Anger generally was.

He wasn’t sure exactly what point the town he’d grown up in had transformed from a bright, happy place with potential into a dark, unsettling Churn Town. People didn’t want to be here. They wanted to get out, escape, move on to better things. But this town had a way of sucking people back in. If he didn’t have family to visit, he thought to himself, he’d probably never come back.

And yet there was something pleasing in the familiarity of the town. He knew the streets. He knew the people. He knew what it was like. Yes, he knew that the town was about as friendly as a Sweeney Todd Home Cookery Class, but in many ways it was still home. He hated it, but it was still home in many ways.

Serious Business

2008-03-21T09:46:10Z

“What happened then?” asked Mark.

“She gave me her phone number,” replied Seb, smiling.

“Nice!” said Mark, enthusiastically.

“And her MySpace address.”

“No,” said Mark, his face dropping like someone had tied weights to all of his facial muscles. “You haven’t added her as a friend.”

“I have,” smiled Seb. “Why?”

Mark put down his pint, a clear sign that he was about to go off on one of his Rants. Mark liked to gesticulate while he ranted, and they unfailingly began with the word…

“Look,” said Mark. “She’s given you her phone number. That’s great! But that’s not a promise. You add her as a friend and nothing happens, then what? You’ve stuck with this person on your friends list. You get bulletins. You get updates. Every time she goes on a date she’ll let her friends know, including you. And if you remove her, well, that’s just awkward, isn’t it?”

“How do you even know this?”

“It’s the internet, Seb,” said Mark, grabbing his pint again. “Where relationships are concerned, it’s Serious Business.”

A Moment's Silence

2008-03-20T12:24:20Z

“Just hanging out”? Seb wanted to take off his shoe and beat himself to death with it. He was certainly in the right place to do it – he could arrange his funeral first. At least then he’d have an excuse to be there.

She’d gone back to jotting in her notebook. Seb smiled – she was left-handed. For some reason knowing this tiny detail about her made him feel all giddy inside.

“So,” he said, looking at the notebook, “Work stuff, eh?”

“Not really,” she said. “I’m just, y’know, doing a bit of writing. It’s a fairly slow day today. I get quite bored on days like this.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll get busier later today.”

“I hope not,” she said. “The last thing people want to see is a line of customers outside the funeral parlour.”

“True,” said Seb. And then from out of nowhere… “Listen, I was wondering… on a scale of one to ten, just how tacky would it be if I were to ask you out while you were working?”

She paused, and smiled. “Well seeing as I’m not actually working, maybe a two?”

Seb smiled.