Monday, November 13, 2006

The lamp crashed to the floor. Jon's stream of consciousness ceased its usual flow. No longer did one word cede to the next in an ongoing sequence of thoughts carried in long, perpetual sentences. Images and smells began to dominate his awareness, and desires were his reactions. The cake. The icing. Salivary glands in full activation. Mmmmm. Eat. Jon began eating. Each bite was a sweet discovery. One bite. Another. Again and again and again. The cake diminished swiftly and was gone.

He scanned the room and saw a multitude of highchairs, each holding the same baby - identical to him, each eating cake, or waiting idly before a plate of crumbs. It was never long before a wave of attendants placed a new cake before each baby, which then responded with a smile and a laugh that came straight from the belly. And then the faces would harden in the concentration of transforming that cake into another plate of crumbs. On and on this would go, through all eternity, with endless indentical blends of flour, eggs, milk and icing. Jon had rubbed the lamp and told the genie: "I want to be young again, live a thousand lives, and have all the cake I can eat."

Story #380

Original Post:

If you have any use for something like Pansi, stop by Pansifiles and offer her a job, something like librarian, or that person at a publishing house that has to read all the manuscripts.

An interesting new (non-partisan) blog project is discussing ways to achieve peace, so check it out and cast your vote on a number of issues.


cooper said...

I feel we pressure you so for your stories.

As for pansi I offered her a position licking stamps for my grad school applications, but blogger - twice - would not except my application and then I just I figured she wasn't up to the job and gave up.

Indeterminacy said...

You all aren't pressuring me. The real pressure was doing this every day. I like writing one a week, but I fell behind because of work.

Sar said...

Indie, between stories & work, I hope you'll find time to visit my 11-11 bash. :)

PANSI said...

Coo!!!!! I got you're "offers"!!!!!! Mrs. Weirsdo insist's I mall over it with the rest!!!!!!

Mr. INDECENCY!!!!! You are a VERRY SICK MAN!!!!!!!

Cocaine Jesus said...



"listen to this"


"Ooooh, that stinks!"

"damn right. eating farleys rusks 24/7 would make the angel gabriel fart."

"where's our mum then?"

"gone shopping."



"what for?"

"more farleys rusks"

Anonymous said...

He went from, town to town selling the breeze of foreign lands. He said he had cure to every disease trapped in his transparent jars. Even death. He had brought many a corpses back to life. One day a child came up to him and said -

"I won't have a baby brother anymore. My mother had to abort. Father told he doesn't need another zombie in this house."

cooper said...

on second thought that picture invokes a nightmare of sorts.

pansi: like you really have a lot of choices...........

Kyahgirl said...

um that picture?

Those would have been Pansi's children if she hadn't been getting it on with the Orcs while visiting Gondor.

cheesemeister said...

The Kugelhoffer children were living proof of why it's better not to know the future. As twin sisters Belva and Brittney and their triplet Franz sat eating their first birthday cakes, they had no idea of what the future held for them. Belva was to become a railroad engineer, which was all fine and good, except that it would be on the zoo train at the Totenarsel Zoo, (incidentally, the worst zoo in all of Austria, having been cited numerous times by the SPCA for its maltreatment of both its animals and its employees) taking groups of noisy, screaming children around to see the mangy menagerie and cleaning their vomit off the seats afterwards. The zoo smelled like the bottom of an old swamp, and eating the foul fare was a sure way to contract food poisoning.
Brittney was destined to become an apple seller, taking her cart from town to town, selling apples from her orchard. They would be good enough apples, but it would be hard for her to compete with the mass market, hormone-infused mutant apples from the Claudenhopfer Grove and she would develop multitudes of foot problems as a result of never being able to afford a truck to haul her crops.
Franz would become a necromancing necrophile after watching one too many zombie movies while being babysat by Cousin Pyotr, a Russian renegade on the lam from the law.
One might ask where is God's mercy in visiting such miserable fates on such lovely innocents. The mercy is in their obliviousness of their fates, for were they to be granted such terrible knowledge, they would surely fling themselves face forward onto the floor in attempt to crack their skulls in order to avoid their malignant karma.

Indeterminacy said...

Pansi: You can't come around here insulting my readers! Go read a book!

Cocaine Jesus: There's the cycle of life in your story, and something of a countercultural poetic. Loved it.

Clown: And now they are blissfully eating cake. Something eerie about that story.

Cooper: As you'll see from my story, I had a similar sense. Something not quite wholesome about those goings ons.

Kyahgirl: "Pansi's children" in itself evokes powerful nightmare images.

Cheesemeister: I really love this story - and I'm speechless at all the associations and deeper meaning that you matter-of-factly worked into it. Your stories up to now always grab me.

cheesemeister said...

Thanks! :-)
I agree with Jon. I want to be a toddler again and eat cake with my hands and get chocolate ice cream all over my face and not care.

Anonymous said...

:) Great new story, I enjoy reading your stories so much.. thank you for your nice words but more importantly for your stories!!

Indeterminacy said...

Cheesemeister: You open up new nuances to the story. Who is to say Jon didn't want what he got?

Colored Clouds: You're too kind. I felt somehow that I took the easy way out with this story.

weirsdo said...

I like the story. Be careful what you wish for.
Kyah: Pansi had some sweet, smart kids. It wasn't their fault Pansi was their mom. Some of them were "adopted" (kidnapped). Mall Diva took care of them on an invisible second floor she constructed above Pansi's trailer, so it was all right. Perhaps this is even a picture of some of them.
Indie, After that book crack, Pansi said you were "a PSICKO with a capital PS!!!"

Cori said...

I love Cake!