It looked like a simple washing machine but in reality it was a transdimensional anti-phase fabric interpolator. For the less technically inclined, this means you turn it on, add soap, and clean clothes appear out of nowhere. Nowhere in this case is an identical palimpsest of our dimension, with the exception that clothes on that side are constantly disappearing - the way umbrellas do in our dimension. Bob got a shock one day when he reached into the machine to retrieve his new wardrobe. He selected a fresh pair of dress Levi's, but as he pulled on the leg a door on the other side of the machine opened and there was his completely naked parallel twin, pulling on the other leg, refusing to let go.
Story #403
Thanks everyone for all the stories! I've finally commented them and will now concentrate on the story for #404. Anyone still wishing to write their own story to the above photo, please feel welcome to do so!
39 comments:
He wasn't the sharpest tool in the box by any means, but when Michael said he was going to wash his hair, the family could do nothing but look on and await the spin cycle.
Nate never finished his snack of chips and salsa.
He suddenly wanted to have a smoke. To his great surprise, as he flicked the lighter, a massive genie erupted out of the flame.
His body was that of smoke and ether, emanating twisting vortexes not of this world. His face was that of Willem Dafoe, wearing a handlebar moustache so sinister its wingspan rivaled that of the Andean condor.
"I will grant you one wish," boomed the genie.
Gazing up at the being before him, all Nate could think about was how ridiculous it was that such an enormous form could have possibly fit into such a small lighter.
Nate pointed at the genie, laughed, and said, "Nice house. You drive a Hot Wheel to work, too?"
"It is unwise to mock me," warned the genie.
"Whatever," Nate said. "Just do your job. I wish I were famous."
The genie pulled out a camera.
"Now where did my contact lens go? I can't see it."
* * * * * * * *
BTW, Thanks for the note on my blog. I added your link to mine because I like the photo stories idea and I enjoy your blog. In fact, I'll be mentioning it in some blogs and writers' groups when I have a chance.
You said you loved a good mystery and wanted to know which of my books I'd recommend....so, here goes. :)
The River is my personal bestseller with men. It starts off in high gear and doesn't let up. It's kind of a Mission Impossible meets Timeline. Del Hawthorne and a group of people she barely knows head up north in search of a father she had thought was long dead. What she finds is a terrifying land of strange disappearances, headless corpses, nanobots, painful serums and a deadly conspiracy. This is for anyone who enjoys a suspenseful action thriller--for men and women.
Divine Intervention is a psychic suspense about a group of psychic investigators searching for a serial arsonist. A cross between TV's Medium and CSI. Also popular with both men and women.
Whale Song is a more emotional novel, great for women and young adult readers. It is a heartwrenching coming of age with a hint of mystery. I recommend it mainly for women, although I have had men between 40-60 read it. It is also a great gift, perfect for any woman in your life or for YA (10-16). Whale Song is my latest and the one that has created the most buzz because it deals with the controversial issue of assisted dying.
You can order any of my titles from Amazon.
Whale Song
Divine Intervention
The River
Also, if you order Whale Song, I am giving away free autographed bookplates. So just let me know. :)
You can also find my books at other online retailers and many bookstores. :)
Please visit my website for Whale Song and sign my guestbook!
http://www.whalesongbook.com
Cheryl Kaye Tardif
Cheryl Kaye Tardif Mysteries
This is a required course in Political Science... To learn, To spin... Politicians only...
Thank you,
My World.... :)
Ralph became obsessed with his favourite scene in the documentary film American Movie. The one where the guy tries and tries, and eventually succeeds in smashing his head through the kitchen cupboard while his mother filmed him, and he didn't know why. He searched the Internet for anyone who shared his obsession but found nothing and no one. He went to a shrink. "You will never be able to return to the womb', his doctor told him, 'there is only one direction in this life.". But Ralph was too far gone to take in anything the doctor was telling him. After a while it was all he could think about and he began to recreate the scene all over his house. His wife had had enough. She took the kids, and left him. And Ralph remained clueless until the day he died.
a night of drinking and eating junk brought greg to an enlightened state within a kitchen of a friend of a friend of someone he didn't know all too well, but treated him like a friend. a gateway to another world presented itself to him, and pulling himself from lethargic conversation, he decided to follow the white bunny down the hole. but alas, he was too big, a conclusion he came to after his shoulders bashed against the metal frame, making it ring and causing a chorus of laughter. his head spun and his insides reared their ugly heads into the front loader. greg slumped back out in a daze, trying to remember to remind the friend of a friend of someone he didn't really know to remember to clean out the rabbit hutch before he used it again for it's proper purpose.
His mother had always told him that if he just did his laundry he would find peace, love and happiness.
Not quite comprehending her meaning, he attempted to become one with the wishing machine.
Alas during the extra heavy cycle somehow his head was cut off and he did find a new world.
I like to watch the incubator spin.
Pedro hoped that if the dryer whirled his head around long enough his abuela would finally tell him he had it screwed on straight.
On a quest to better understand woman,Don foolishly looks into the dryer for the planet Venus.
Hey Indie,
Stopped by to thank you for the deciding vote! :) Hope you don't mind, I mentioned it in todays post.
Pam
The day hadn't started well. It was when the machine went onto spin cycle that Greg had a sinking feeling in his stomach.
So that was where the cat was.
Oh, and thank you for your comment at my blog :)
"today is not my day..where did that ring went?"
"if only, im wearing my glasses..."
**sigh**
"I promise not to propose today, if i find it within 15 minutes. I'll do it tomorrow."
There is a small piece of paper, alleged to have originated in the Bahamas, on which is written a note to my friend, Paul. The note is of little consequence, Paul tells me, other than it appears from time to time in curious places, folded as if ready to propel itself into a world of misunderstanding and spurious thoughts.
What concerns Paul most is that given the power exerted by the paper on propelling itself, the surface from which it propels itself - should it be brittle - would fracture. This may be of no importance to anyone except if, for example, a soft part of their body was near said surface at time of propulsion.
Which brings me on to my ancestor who wrote poetry in a coal mine, and who believed that nature should be forgiven for placing certain people in certain places at a certain time.
well, i'm not in a mood for story writing right now. just wanted to say it's a great idea with the pictuer and all.
hmmm.
also read the last post, it was so cute.
"Life was so much easier in the early part of the 20th century" Peter thought to himself. "At least back then the gateway to Narnia would appear in a large wardrobe, now he was forced to spend two hours contorting his middle aged frame into a ridicuously small space trying to get back & forth, if only he had listened to The Ice Queen.
"Pttuggh," said the Washing Machine, "that was disgusting. Not what I thought it was going to taste like, at all."
The half-eaten body lay on the floor. The Washing Machine watched it through its wide dial-eyes. "I wonder who's going to clear that up. It's certainly not me."
"No, dude, I'm serious!" John said as he trained the camera on Sid. "Just a little farther in and you should be able to reach the door in the back."
"I don't see it" echoed back.
"It's there dude. They built it so that we could sneak into the bar next door without a cover." John stifled a laugh and thought "It'll be great on YouTube..."
I have been searching it all long. In the fridge,oven under bed. I cant find it anywhere. i dont remember where in the hell did i keep it last night. Ok let me look here. May be i had left here in washing machine. Oh there it is. Now i can properly see and hear. i dont know for what reason had i kept my HEAD here. Anyway now that i got it i can get back to my work.
Regards my blog is Photo Speaks
When I was young, my white shirt was clean and white whenever it had been washed.
But when I become old, I always obsess that my white shirt is not clean and white after washing.
Where is the fault?
Washing machine or detergent or the white shirt or myself?
Milton was having a bad day. Besides the fact that he always hated the name his parents had given him, (“Milton” what were they thinking?) and his girlfriend, Grace was obsessed with female suicidal poets and tried to force their poetry down poor Milton’s throat by reciting it aloud during their lovemaking, and yesterday he was fired from his job as a parking lot attendant, well…..Milton had had it with his life, so he decided to get stoned and end it all by putting his head in the oven, but somehow he mistook the clothes dryer for the oven and that was where Grace found him, and when she saw him like that, so helpless and vulnerable, she swore she would never read another Silvia Plath poem to him again.
Do you need all your laundry done, but have no time? Does washing clothes frighten you to no end? And does the amount of bleach and soap confuse the most strong willed person?
Well, no fear! For Dryerhead Man is here! He will clean, dry and fold in record time! And if the machine's breakdown, there is no need to call the Maytag Man, his one-time sidekick, for Dryerhead Man will abolish all villianious issues in one cycle!
It's Dryerhead Man to the rescue!
Determined to find out where all those missing socks went, Jean Luc, never one to do things halfway, began his quest, head first.
What a cool idea! (First time at your blog.)
---
It was past noon when Steven was finally roused from his drunken slumber by the sounds of pitiful mewing coming from the dishwasher.
Unable to stand to his feet he managed to crawl to the kitchen and press his ear against the still warm surface of the appliance. That's when the quiet cries ceased completely.
Steven was filled with dread.
"Fluffy??!"
Jerome Feathers the carpet cleaner. was thought to have no emotions. He passed day after day with the same expression. Blank, empty, devoid of feeling. But today was different. Today was Jerome's 47th Birthday. Jerome was sick of the presents his brother would bring him year after year, a DVD, some action flick, which would lay unopened in the shoebox under his bed with the others from previous years. No, this birthday would be different. Jerome would give his brother a present. Some thing that would truly make Jerome happy. Jerome waited inside his apartment, with its few furnishings, a folding card table with one chair, a microwave, a minifridge the washer and dryer with a piece of plywood streched on top serving as a counter, and his bed with the box of unopened DVD's under it, all boring, indiferent, like Jerome had been all these years. Jerome poured the detergent into his wash machine waiting for hsi brother, hsi footsteps in the hallway, muffled through the thin walls. Jerome fought to hide his excitement. He strode to the door, his face a mask, unreadable. His brother came in, smiling, smelling like motor oil from his shop. Jerome led his brother to the makeshift counter, graciously accepting the gift, telling his brother how thougtful he was to remember old, lonely Jerome's birthday. Jerome's brother was at ease. Jerome engaged his brother in their everyday idle conversation, waiting for the perfect moment to unleash the surprise.
It came. Jerome hurried over to his bed, neatly made, the sheets tucked under the matress. Jerome reached for the box of unopened DVD's and opened it up, shifting the DVD's to the side and....wait, where was it, the gun? Jerome looked up and say his brother smiling. THe gun in his hand.
"You weren't really going to kill Jerome." said Jerome's brother. Jerome looked at his brother in disbelief, after all these years of planning, his plan had been thwarted! Jerome hung his head, the shock sweeping through him. The dispair, the denail.
Jerome sunk to his knees as the bulled tore through his skull, and pulled himself towards the washing machine. He stuck his head inside. He had to keep the carpet clean. True to his profession even in death. Bloodstains were just a pain to remove. Defeated he died, as his brother looked upon him and laughed. As Jerome's brother left the apartment, he stopped and picked up the box of unopened DVD's. Might as well watch them.
Spellbound, Carlos watched as the two socks (one black, one white; one fuzzy, one smooth) performed their intricate mating ritual.
As their love reached a crescendo, toes curled and lint flew. And then the socks lay back, spent, the white one looking for all the world like it wanted a cigarette.
Who knows how long Carlos would have stood there, transfixed, had his room-mate not broken the spell by uttering "Jesus, Carlos – have some respect! Step away from the socks, man."
Larry decided firmly that it was not his day when after the washing machine broke he dropped the smallest, most vital screw into it. Desperate, he unwisely, stuck his head and neck in to look for it. It had the musty smell of wet blankets and was black as pitch. He pushed back- but didn't get out. He was stuck, his shoulders forming a perfect suction seal. "Honey?" he called desperately. "Honey!!"
There was a a shuffle of feet, then a shriek of laughter. "Larry, you dolt! This is better than the plunger incedent!"
"Help..." Larry moaned faintly. It was very stuffy in a washer and he didn't have much air.
"Let me get the camera!" she cried between peals of laughter. And again Larry thought it was not his day.
(What happened to her photo? Why- it's right here.)
Goodbye cruel world.
"What is it that is being stirred in darkness?," wondered Uhttum. It had been happening for over 26 nimishums; time long enough for a wondering man to let curiosity make him forget about dead poochais.
It was a raining heavily and in his komanam, Uhttum was feeling terribly uncomfortable. Suddenly the space he had been staring at was as dry as it could be.
His eyes fell upon the strangest things he had ever seen. They were in the colours of the weather, blue and grey. But had only a wee little bit to do with the dampness, wetness and fragrance of rain.
The dark sky had cleared and he could see the strangest full moon he had ever seen in his life. In his stranger attire, he felt like a man being dragged in undesirable things like the poochais had been. As he found his way through the light he soon found himself half way through the moon. He landed unlike the baby being born, head last. Click.
--
"It's going to be two years now," sighed Mutthu. He would never understand why this strange twin of his would religiously try every full moon to find a missing white underwear.
The Washing Machine chuckled. "Nobody will believe you Utthum, if you tell them I gave birth to you.
Mwahaha,"
Very clever, Indie, and worth inventing but I bet you mostly get socks.
The year is 2015. Harry Potter is on all fours conducting Order of the Phoenix business through the washer. He who must not be named is taking the picture of his beloved’s backside. No one knows.
Made me laugh!
Good one.
Omg..didn't read what you wrote before writing, really!! Coincidence or what?
It took a lot of time to read through all these but finally I did and ready to make all my comments. It was a great set, some slightly similar ideas nd perspectives, but each one unique in its own way. I read these all on the train home from work, and wrote down my comments. So here goes...
Aubergine: That really looks like what's happening! I almost started to write something like that too!
JG: "a handlebar moustache so sinister its wingspan rivaled that of the Andean condor." is a great metaphor! Loved the story and the sly relation to the photo.That was famous!
Cheryl: That ppor man! Looking everywhere for his contact and never finding it. What an awful destiny. Like "All the Time in the World" (Twilight Zone). Thanks also for the very kind words and for considering my site worthy of mention. I will look into the titles you mentioned.
My World: If only we could put all the politicians into one big washing machine. Either they'd all kill each other in there, or come out clean.
Blaine: Woaw! Your story was incredible! The obsession seems so realistic.
Frances: Cool that you saw an entrance into another world, too. I think the white bunny you follow never leads you astray.
Pia: great to see you stop by. Your story was brutal. But in Jungs concept of self-individuation the final step is achieved simultaneously with death.
Doug: the ideas you hatch!
Mrs: Weirsdo: I had to look up abuela! She'll probably tell him he's loco.
Pam: How foolish of Don! Everybody knows that Venus is a wet and humid plant. Not dry at all. No problem with the mention. I'm honored.
Observer: As a fan of the 101 uses for a dead cat books, I loved the story.
Deli: Poor guy. Will he ever find happiness?
Stan Johns: I found your story to be both imaginative and profound! Thanks for sharing it.
Muss Fucking Vicious: Don't feel under pressure to have to write something. I'm happy if you stop by just to read. Thanks for the compliments!
The Grocer: Lovely story! I guess this did look like the portal to another place. Some months ago I watched the Narnia series for the first time. Really nice.
Animal451: People started looking at me after I read this. Couldn't stop laughing. Outrageously funny!
DW2: Poor guy. Wonder if he' be flattered showing up at indeterminacy?
Uday: I had a similar idea at first: he's looking for his head and finds it in the washing machine. Cool that we had the same thought.
Teetoe: Maybe he has such greasy hair that it messes up the washing machine? Or maybe his eyesight is failing. Deep question of life in there.
Lorena: Enjoyed your story! That was one of my associations too - attempted suicide. Poor guy - what all he went through.
k.wecker: Yeah! Maybe Dryerhead Man and Mr. Clean can get together and battle dirt on two fronts!
L: What if his head gets stuck?
Tee: Thanks for the nice compliemnt. Tragic story. I hope that stuff like that isn't happening.
Anonymous: Sorry you didn't leave your blog link. Nice, complex story. Talk about evil opposite twins who are really not that opposite! Kind of a harmomny in what you wrote.
Papillon: So funny! I hope the socks come out clean. Don't know if I want to wear them now.
Talespin: That was a real tailspin! Poor guy.
On with the blather: Drowned in a washing machine. It'll make the National Enquirer, I'm sure.
Cirrus Spray: Very intriguing story and cool parallel! It was synchronicity!
Doug: I need socks.
Sandra: My son just started reading Harry Potter, albeit in German. I still haven't though. Your story adds magic to the picture.
Just went to a pre-screening of the movie. Children sat in the audience with witch hats and wands. That was magic.
I don't think you'd want your son to read my naughty parody of a beloved character. So call me naughty. It's what I deserve.
Am new here, but read some of your stories (can one call them that???).. enjoyed them very much.. spontaneous is right!!! will read the whole lot soon...
I'm late, as is usual. But us cats like to take our time, doing our thing when the moods strikes us.
Anywho... when I saw this, the first thing I thought was... well, now, where I have I seen this guy doing something similar? Ever see that youtube flick where the circus clown gets his head stuck up the backside of the quarter horse? yeppers... I just know this is the same guy. Practicing.
Sandra: Naughty is nice in my book.
Snowy: Thanks for stopping by - and please feel welcome to come anytime! For want of a better name I call my "stories" "stories" - but I really don't know. I used to call them one minute short stories, because they could be read in the space of a minute - but then they started getting longer. After a while people started saying I was writing flash fiction, which means really short stories, but I had never heard of the term before. So what do I do?
Anonymous: German word of the day: igit!
"Snot!" said Ziggie. His favorite thong had gotten caught between the dryer drawer and the rotating drum. It was messing up everything. Now he would have to call the repairman, and he wouldn't have his lucky thong to wear on his date with Charles.
"I hope that wearing a not so lucky thong doesn't mean I won't get lucky," Ziggie mused.
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