Internet community poems and stories

Internet community poems and stories

Planet BlogSphere

It’s all very well wishing to escape the boredom, but Number 14 was beginning to regret hitching a lift on Honda Prelude’s magic/mischievous carpet. Next time, I may remain bored, it thought, but not very convincingly.
Number 14 had perched unnoticed on the rear of the carpet, totally hidden in clouds of Honda’s unravelled ponytail (yes, rinsing in home-made conditioner probably had been a mistake), and saw virtually nothing of the journey. All it heard was Honda talking to herself, about a Planet BlogSphere, seemingly.
Well it had better be good!
*
Eventually the carpet landed and Number 14 quietly untangled itself from the utter, total and complete tautological blackness of The World Within Honda’s Ponytail and emerged blinking into utter, total and complete tautological blackness. This was something of a surprise. It opened and closed the shutters on its cameras and tried looking in different directions. It couldn’t see a thing.

‘Help!’ wailed Number 14.
‘I wondered when you’d declare your presence,’ said Honda Prelude.
‘Er,’ said Number 14.
‘Apology accepted,’ said Honda Prelude. ‘Let’s move. Take my hand. No, not that. My hand!’

The darkness felt like endless folds of black/purple velvet – claustrophobic and disorienting.
Honda held onto Number 14’s upper left appendage and led the way through the murk. Even the sounds they made seemed to be swallowed immediately by the clinging velvety darkness.

They emerged into a shop which was cosily illuminated by an elderly yellow bulb dangling from the ceiling.
‘There you are,’ declared the shopkeeper. ‘I thought we’d lost you for good in the velvet rack. It seems like weeks since you entered. Did you find anything of interest?’

Number 14 looked behind to see whence they’d come. What a strange place to land, it thought.

Honda wrapped her hair seven times around her waist and secured it with her belt. She smiled at the shopkeeper and explained that she’d been looking for her teasmade which she’d apparently lost on her last visit.
‘Did you find it?’ asked Number 14.
‘I mean you, you twit!’ she whispered.
Number 14 shrugged irresponsibly, having studied the expert, colleague Number 11, as if to say – I’d forget my own kettle if it wasn’t plugged in.

The shopkeeper nodded in an agreeable manner, being a distant relative of Wip Lee.
‘Do you have any clothes pegs?’ asked Honda, thinking they’d be useful to control her hair.
‘No,’ replied the shopkeeper and so they felt free to leave without further pretence to be shopping.

The overhead bell clanged as they opened the door to leave, as it was attached to the door by a rope.
The bell overhead clanged as they closed the door from the outside.
Number 14 and Honda Prelude looked at each other, looked at the bell, then looked at each other again.
Bloody weird idea, they thought.
‘What an interesting device,’ said Honda.
‘My thoughts precisely. More or less,’ said Number 14. It looked up at the ornate brass and BlogSphereoak plaque over the shop doorway.

Klaus, Trophobic & Diss, Oriental Carpets and Curtains - established
‘No date,’ observed Number 14.
*

A shaggy dog ambled along the street, stirring up the dust and annoying its fleas which had developed a dust allergy. The dog sat by Honda and radiated friendliness.
‘We’ve been adopted,’ said Honda. ‘let’s continue on our way.’

The shaggy dog led the way out of town, as such dogs often do. They passed Piranha and Frenzi, Estate Agents (established 2007) rumoured to have relocated from Planet Penshun.
They passed Bill the Bootmender, and the now legendary legend over his shop doorway declaring his moment of fame when he’d given a pair of boot laces to the temporary pontiff. Cobblers to the Pope, it declared, and caused great envy amongst his neighbouring shopkeepers.
They passed Tray C Veggie Supplies (Nuts to the Queen). Her majesty did indeed mail order wholefood goodies from Tray C.

They soon escaped the corrupting atmosphere of the town; we won’t even mention the pornbroker.
‘Did that sign say pornbroker?’ asked Number 14.
‘We don’t mention them,’ advised Honda Prelude.
‘But what is . . . ,’
‘We don’t mention them.’
‘But shouldn’t the spelling be . . . ,’
‘We don’t mention them!’

‘Ah, the countryside,’ said Number 14, analysing the rural air and finally consulting the script.
*

The fleas had a hard time as Shaggy Dog led Honda Prelude and Number 14 across the dusty plain. The breeze was behind them, approximately two metres per second, and Dog settled into a two metres per second dawdle, thus creating a microclimate of permadust around itself.
The fleas attempted moving house into Honda’s ponytail, but the home-made conditioner soon changed their plans. Indeed, they became so desperate that they briefly contemplated a move to Number 14, but its metallic exterior offered no shelter from the dust.
‘This dog looks happy in a cloud of dust,’ observed Number 14.
‘A cloud of dust and fleas,’ said Honda Prelude.
Shaggy Dog estimated that the fleas were now desperate enough to try any means of escaping the dust, and it diverted slightly toward the north and the foothills of the Himmel Layers. A native with 27 children and a goat could be seen carrying his yurt as he trekked towards the public library with his latest poems.

When he overtook the weary native, Shaggy Dog shed its load of fleas which distributed themselves amongst the 27 children and the goat.
The children were found to be more succulent, but the goat offered better shelter from the dust. The weary native was partial to raw garlic, coincidentally a principal ingredient of Honda’s hair conditioner, and the fleas gave him a wide berth.

*

Having offloaded its passengers, Dog accelerated towards Xmoor, where a group of three picnickers could be seen. They were improvising a tune on flute, saxophone and tennis racket prior to feasting.

‘Shouldn’t that be racquet?’ asked Number 14.
‘Have you heard it?’ replied Honda Prelude.

‘Good point,’ conceded Number 14. ‘Look, they also have several manuscripts.’

Honda Prelude waved a greeting towards the group and questioned them.
‘Where are you bound?’ She looked pointedly at the pile of manuscripts.

‘To the library, drekly,’ they replied, being from the far west of the country. They pointed towards the horizon and Honda nodded.

Shaggy Dog speedily led Honda Prelude and Number 14 on their way and they’d covered 200 metres before the picnickers discovered all their food had vanished; apparently having mutated into a pool of drool and several floating fleas.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Number 14.
‘It’s a mystery,’ said Honda.
And it was.

*

Dog led them at a brisk pace into a forest and they followed a well used path for an hour or so. After miles of naught but trees, a very tall tower became visible. They entered a clearing and saw that several paths converged on the tower.

They increased their pace, partly out of curiosity but mainly in the hope that the building would possess toilet facilities and something to drink. Number 14 hoped to see sunlight and recharge its batteries.
On the door of the building was a plaque. An expensive brass plaque that looked official in the extreme. It said

Planet BlogSphere

Community Library and Blogging Centre


(To earn five library cards please contribute one story, one poem, or 12,750 blog comments).

You are here, it said, and there was a photo of the front door.
‘That’s helpful,’ said Honda.
A small chart connected the symbol of the door to several smaller labels underneath:

Poems, stories, ideas, art and playschool
Direct link to Wits End Online Community

‘Playschool?’ said Honda, staring at Number 14. Rather moodily, Number 14 estimated.
‘We’ll bring Number 11 next time, eh?’ said Number 14.
‘Shall we go in?’ asked one.
‘Why not?’ replied the other.

(Ring the bell to enter)

So they did.