by Jared Axelrod | Jan 15, 2006 | Story |
Amsterdam is still dry. The whole country is. It’s hard to believe, I know. But it’s true.
That’s how you can tell the tourists. Not a single Dutch person is amphibious. They don’t have to be. They’ve held back the waters, just like the little punk in the story.
Stories got to come from somewhere, I suppose.
This’ll knock you flat: I was at this coffee shop there, right? And I’m downstairs, with some pals, and we’re lit and we’re relaxed. The smoke is thick in there, but not bad thick, just enough that you can feel your eye-membranes slide on down. Good times.
And these kids, these obvious tourists—high-schoolers or some such, their skin was still bright green—they come on down the stairs and they look at us all laid out and we’re like “Right now, right now they are having their First Amsterdam Tourist Experience. And it’s just like the stories. We are a part of their First Amsterdam Tourist Experience.â€
How amazing is that? I mean, I remember my First Amsterdam Tourist Experience, right? That was what? Years ago. The world was different then, you know? And I’ve made, like, fifty trips back since. And here are these kids, right? Probably can count how many times they’ve set foot on dry land on one webbed hand. But they’re giggling and all excited, just like I was.
It’s hard to come back to the water after that, you know? It’s like stepping on Atlantis, or Avalon or some such. It’s another world, one of fire and smoke and dreams.
I feel like I live there, sometimes. That this city, here beneath the waves, this is just visiting. That where I live is somewhere else. Where I live is in my head, and in Amsterdam.
Hand me that fishbowl you call a helmet, man. I feel the need to light up another trip home.
by Jared Axelrod | Jan 11, 2006 | Story
Tomorrow, Vivek Pratap will stop smoking.
He will stop smoking because it is bad for his gills, the luster of his new skin, and his sharpened teeth. The shark genes he had combined with his own were expensive; he’d hate to ruin those spent thousands with a five-dollar pack of smokes.
So tomorrow, Vivek will quit. He’s a new man, now
He also got muscle enhancements, as well as some bone-lengthening treatments. The new Vivek would tower over the old one. He had to get a new wardrobe, made of shiny, expensive materials. He’s kept a flannel shirt, though, his favorite. Used to be his favorite. But he’s different, now.
Vivek had to move, to be closer to the ocean. This meant leaving a lot of friends behind, but Vivek was glad of that. He could tell when they looked at him, who they saw. And it just wasn’t who he was anymore.
The move meant an excuse to get rid of a lot of things. Vivek tossed out all the pictures of himself as he used to look, feeling he was better off without reminders. He did keep one picture, but it’s not on display in his new home. He keeps it in a drawer.
It’s the only picture he has of Czarina; she never did like seeing herself on film. She had broken up with him after his transition. She said she didn’t like the new Vivek. It was for the best, really. Czarina is a smoker.
Vivek likes the new him. which is why he’s going to take care of it. Starting tomorrow, he’s going to quit smoking.
Tonight, he is wrapped up in a a shirt that no longer fits, staring at picture of a version of himself that is wearing it. A version of himself whose soft, pink cheek is being kissed by a girl who has her arms around his small, hunched shoulders.
“Tomorrow,” Vivek promises himself. “I’ll change.”
by Jared Axelrod | Jan 6, 2006 | Story |
“But why don’t you want to be Prince Charming? I just don’t understand.†Beryl worried a handkerchief nearly to the point of tearing with her plump little hands. Saske could see she was almost to the point of tears, but he wasn’t going to relent. A man had to draw the line somewhere.
“I have no problem spending our honeymoon in Orlando, babycakes. And if it means that much to you we can get married in the Magic Kingdom. But does it have to be Cinderella themed?â€
Beryl dabbed at the corners of her eyes and fanned the collection of brochures at Saske. “There’s Sleeping Beauty. We could do Sleeping Beauty. They have animatronic replicas of Flora, Fauna and Merryweather that float around on little gasbags and even a Maleficent that storms from the back when the priests asks if anyone has any objections.”
“Thats not what I meant…”
“You can have Maleficent turn into a holographic dragon if you want. You could fight her. They give you a sword.”
“I don’t want a sword…”
“My cousin Stacy had the Little Mermaid and she said the Ursela was just fantastic. I’d have to dye my hair red for that.†Beryl’s tears were lost, and she was now fingering her auburn curls in front of the hallway mirror.
“I don’t want you to dye your hair red!†Saske didn’t mean to shout, but now that he was started, he couldn’t keep it in. “I don’t want to marry Ariel, or Aurora, or Cinderella! I want to marry you!â€
“And you don’t think I’m a princess?†The tears were starting to come back, and Beryl sunk down into the sofa. She looked at the handkerchief in her hands, “I think you’re Prince Charming.â€
Saske sat down next to Beryl and put his hands on hers. “You’re a princess to me, sweetie. You’re my princess. Not Walt’s. What is it you want out of that type of wedding?â€
Beryl looked him deep in the eyes. “The fairy tale, honey. I want to be Cinderella, if just for a night.â€
“In rags, scrubbing the fireplace?â€
“No, silly! Cinderella isn’t about rags!â€
Saske looked at the brochures, the glossy, pastel gowns and the castle backdrops. “No, I guess not. You’d think Little Red Riding Hood would be in here. I loved that movie. I could be The Wolf for that.â€
“The Wolf isn’t a romantic hero!â€
Saske turned to his fiancé with a saucy gleam in his eye. “Au contraire, my little Forest Traveler,†he growled. “Allow me to show you how wrong that notion is!â€
“Oh my!†Beryl said. “How big you are!â€
by Jared Axelrod | Dec 31, 2005 | Story |
“New life!” came the call throughout “God’s Hammer,” from starboard to port, from aft to fore. It echoed through the corridors and ricocheted off the trophy skulls that decorated them. The men and women who crewed “God’s Hammer” sharpened their knives and painted their bodies in preparation.
“New life! Hoist the rag! Hoist the rag! New life!”
The ceremony was an auspicious one, for it was a member of the Captain’s harem who had given birth, and so then did this child bear the blue paint of “Captain’s Heir.” The Captain cradled the baby girl throughout the ceremony, surrounded by his favorite male and female concubines. Only when his joy became too great did he leave his throne on the bridge, and dance around the glowing engine core with the rest of the crew.
And if any of the crew were concerned with the existence of a new mouth and a new belly, they found their minds changed by the obvious joy in the Captain, brought on by his new heir.
All save one.
The first mate, whose purchase on the Captain’s throne was now lost due to this new heir, brandished his knife with a heavy fist and a bloody eye. He screamed with rage as he charged the Captain and his daughter, with intent to end them both.
And he clean would have, but for the eyes of the crew, who saw this. And but for the hands of the crew, who caught his arms and held him fast. And but for the hearts of the crew, each one of which still kept beat in the Captain’s palm.
The slave who was to be sacrificed was led by its neck back to the bowels of the ship, for the first mate was now lain upon the table in his stead. The chaplain, girded with the remnant of sacrifices past, called out to the gods, offering this old life so that a new life may prosper.
The heir was bathed in the blood of the first mate, which mixed with the blue paint to turn a royal purple. His body was deftly segmented by the chaplain, and each of the crew came toward the still-warm meat and sliced off a piece with their recently sharpened knives. Each piece was swallowed, and so then did crew become stronger.
The heir was wiped down, and the gore-encrusted rag was displayed proudly on the hull of the ship, proclaiming to all of the new life upon “God’s Hammer.”
And other ships did look upon the banner with awe and with envy. “New life,” they whispered. “New life.”
by Jared Axelrod | Dec 27, 2005 | Story |
The girl with the tangled hair sat on the cliff face overlooking the ocean, and dangled her feet into the expanse. A ragged doll made of socks and cast-offs sat beside her. Every so often, the girl would adjust the doll’s slumping posture.
She saw the man’s strange ship land, but she didn’t recognize it anymore than she recognized him. So she stayed where she was, watching for signs from the sea. She didn’t even turn to look at him when he crouched next to her.
“Hello,” he said. “Whatcha doing?”
“I am waiting.” she said. She motioned to the doll. “And so is Petunia.”
“Waiting?” said the strange man. “I know a bit about that. What are you two waiting for?”
“Mommy and Daddy. They put me there,” she pointed to a steel hatchway embedded in the earth. Her eyes never left the water. “They told me not to come out until they came back for me, but Petunia got bored, so we came out. We go back in for peanut butter, but only sometimes. We used to have a house up here, but I don’t know where it went.”
“How long ago did they leave?”
The girl counted on her fingers, though kept her eyes straight ahead. “Four.”
“Days?”
“No,” she said. “The other one. Months”
“I don’t think they’re coming back,” the man said. “I’ve been all over this entire planet. You’re the first survivor I’ve found.”
The girl with the tangled hair turned away from the ocean to look at the strange man, confusion all over her face. “Of course they’re coming back,” she said. “Why would they leave me?”
