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Detective Phil Marlot's Flamebate Posts
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Phil's Fast Fiction Challengemterek Posted: woman's genitalsicles was a poor farmer in the valley of Crotching. One year, just before harvest, a gigantic sand storm came through the valley and destroyed all but three kernels of corn from his crop. Distraught, woman's genitalsicles went to the temple of Phallus and brought with him the three kernels. He placed them in front of the great statue of Phallus and said, “Oh Phallus, you who are more puissant and majestic than any other god, please help me, or else my family will starve.”
Phallus was moved by this offering and appeared to woman's genitalsicles, saying, “since you have sacrificed the last of your food as an offering to me, I will save your family. When you return to your farm, every grain of sand left in your field will have turned into a kernel of corn.” woman's genitalsicles was elated and thanked Phallus. Phallus responded, saying that for the next three years, woman's genitalsicles must bring half his crop to Phallus’ temple or suffer dire consequences. woman's genitalsicles immediately agreed and rushed to return to his farm where his jubilant family was waiting.
The next year, woman's genitalsicles’ harvest was bountiful and he immediately took half his crop to the temple and laid it at the statue of Phallus. Phallus was pleased, but grew greedy. He said, “next year, you must bring me 75% of your crop or you will suffer dire consequences.” woman's genitalsicles was afraid, but knew there was nothing he could do, for Phallus was a god and he was not. His crop was not so good the next year, but he brought 75% of it anyway. Phallus was displeased to receive a lesser payment than the year before, and told woman's genitalsicles that next year, he must bring 85% of his crop to make up for it. woman's genitalsicles worried, knowing that if his crop did poorly again, he would have little chance of survival. woman's genitalsicles returned home and confessed the worsening situation to his wife, who told him, “Stupid husband, did you not know that Phallus is untrustworthy? I will fix this.”
And so woman's genitalsicles’ wife went to the temple of woman's genitalsta, who was Phallus’ enemy in the Pantheon. She prayed to woman's genitalsta, who took pity on her and, seeing an opportunity to damage Phallus, told her that on the day of payment, she must dress up as her husband and instead of bringing crops, deliver large baskets filled with sand. However, she must say nothing the entire time she is in Phallus’ temple or the spell will be broken and Phallus will quickly take revenge.
woman's genitalsicles’ wife did exactly as she was told on the morning of her husband’s payment and brought many large baskets filled with sand to the temple. Just as she was about to leave, Phallus appeared to her and said, “woman's genitalsicles, you have managed to bring me even more food than last year. I am pleased. How did you do this?” And woman's genitalsicles’ wife stood silently, remembering her instructions. “woman's genitalsicles, do you mock me?” asked Phallus. His voice boomed so loudly that the pillars of his temple began to shake. woman's genitalsicles’ wife shook her head and bowed to Phallus, then quickly ran out of the temple. As soon as she exited the temple, woman's genitalsta’s spell was broken and Phallus saw he had been tricked. His temple shook and the walls cracked from his anger.
This is why, to this day, the constellation Phallus chases woman's genitalsta in the sky, and why the small constellation woman's genitalsicles points out from woman's genitalsta toward Phallus as an irritant should he get too close. (view post) |
06/08/2010 |
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Phil's Fast Fiction ChallengeKing Krimson Posted:
“Aren’t you ready yet?”
“Yeah, just a sec,” I responded. “I think this tunic makes me look fat.”
”’Just a sec’ is not the same thing as ready,” said Sandra as she came into the bedroom. She looked at me, impatiently, as I frowned at myself in the mirror. “C’mon, let’s hit it. You look fine. A perfect pageboy,” she said. “Altar boy,” I corrected her. “Pageboys are those kids who are, you know, the ring bearers in weddings.”
“Well, whatever,” said Sandra. “If would make you feel more authentic, we can have some quick sodomy before we go. I’ll even let you call me Father.” “Ew, no,” I said. “But, you know, thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.” “Your loss,” Sandra said, shrugging. “But really, let’s go. Don’t forget your mask and bag. We’ll blend in perfectly with the trick-or-treaters on the street.”
We walked out of the apartment and down the street. Just before we got to the house, I turned to her and said, “You know, we don’t have to do this. Why don’t we just take off somewhere? Take a vacation? We have enough money by now.” Sandra stopped, turned to me, and said, “You can’t possibly be getting cold feet now. This whole thing was your idea. ‘One more job before the Feds get too close.’ Well, it’s one more job now and they’re one town behind us. Do you want to do this or not?”
“I’m just saying,” I explained, “if you don’t want to do this one, it’s okay. We can still walk away.” “Oh my god, you’re such a woman's genitals,” said Sandra, as she started walking. “And you love it,” I quipped, as I rushed to catch up. “Well, yeah,” she responded.
We arrived at the door and fitted our masks over our faces. Sandra rang the bell. A man answered in a zombie costume, holding a bowl of candy. “Back up and put down the candy,” said Sandra, through her mask, as she pulled a gun from her bag. “We want what’s in the safe and nobody gets hurt.”
And then so many things happened at once. The bowl of candy dropped to the floor, scattering the pieces. The zombie lifted his arm, pointing the gun from inside the bowl at Sandra’s chest. Three FBI agents rushed into the yard behind us and aimed their rifles at our backs.
The zombie yelled, “Freeze! Put down your gun, Sandra. It’s over.” And looking at me, he said, “Good job, Amy. We’ll keep up our end of the bargain.”
“You ****,” said Sandra, looking at me with disbelief.
“Yeah,” I said. “I know. (view post) |
06/06/2010 |
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Phil's Fast Fiction ChallengeThanks, folks. Glad you like ‘em. Some good titles in there; will see what I can come up with. Teh Cezar Posted: (view post) |
06/05/2010 |
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Phil's Fast Fiction ChallengeTeh Cezar Posted:
The airlock opened and Captain Miller gently descended the steps of the shuttlepod, coming to a bouncing stop on the dusty red, Martian surface. He looked out from the helmet of his space suit at the area he would be surveying today: an unusual formation of rocks he had started calling “the church.”
Four long, smooth flat rocks in two rows formed the “pews” in front of a large, rectangular, altar-like stone. A former Catholic, Miller found the arrangement both disconcerting and fascinating.
As he walked forward, he began the audio recording. “Survey log: Friday, June 4, 2085. Beginning examination of the upper fourth quadrant of the church region. Similar to yesterday, the ground appears to have been disturbed overnight. Have not been able to find what is causing this — possibly a localized weather occurrence.”
As he reached the uppermost pews, something caught his eye. A small object was resting on the flat rock. It was his grandfather’s Purple Heart he had received during the Great Nuclear Holocaust, the event that had finally sent humans into space, for good. The last time he had seen the medal, he was eight years old. It was, as far as he knew, jettisoned into space with his grandfather’s remains. The medal was clean and free of dust, carefully and almost lovingly placed on the stone surface. It couldn’t have been there long.
“All right,” Miller said, into his communicator. “Which one of you clowns brought an unauthorized shuttlepod down here?”
“Uh, negative on that, Captain,” said the young lieutenant monitoring his progress from the space station. “The only off-station travel in the last 30 days has been you.”
Miller picked up the medal with his gloved hand and hesitating, put it into his specimen bag.
“What’s going on, Captain?” the lieutenant asked. “Nothing, Lieutenant,” said Miller. “As you were.” (view post) |
06/04/2010 |
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Phil's Fast Fiction ChallengeProfessor Commie PhD Posted:
Jian sat on the couch, turning the gun over in his hands. The television blared, playing a NOVA program about the Tang dynasty. He stood up and tucked the gun into the back of his pants. Wu would be here any minute. He checked on the pottery horse again, encased in foam in the titanium case. It had to come through this intact.
Hearing a car pull up, Jian went to the window. It was dark outside. He closed the blinds after seeing three shadowy figures get out of the car. He didn’t want the neighbors to know too soon. After a few moments, he heard a loud thump at the door and a woman’s voice call out “Jian!” Wu was here.
They didn’t wait for him to answer. Wu came in first, dressed in black leather, her hair in two buns on top of her head. She was short, round-faced, and stocky. Jian knew her by reputation; she was ruthless. Her two bodyguards stepped in behind her. The larger one came forward, saying “that it?” as he eyed the case.
“Yes,” said Jian, “but I only give it to Wu. Not you.” The bodyguard reached for his gun. “Orders,” Jian explained.
“It’s all right, Li,” Wu said. “I don’t think this little dumpling..”
A loud pop sounded in the air. The second bodyguard looked at the TV, confused, as if it was coming from there, then looked back at Jian, who was still pointing the gun at Wu as she collapsed onto the floor, the blood spreading from the wound in her gut. He quickly emptied three more bullets into her body, turned to the surprised bodyguard, and shot him twice.
“Let’s go,” Jian said to Li. “The buyer won’t wait.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” said Li. (view post) |
06/04/2010 |
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Phil's Fast Fiction Challengesdgrbbum09 Posted: Jerry glided across the ocean floor, his eight tentacles streaming behind him. “I am so alone” he thought, as a school of fish crossed his path. “Hello,” he started to call out, but they had already zipped away. He sighed, reminding himself that fish were terrible companions anyway, always acting on instinct and never stopping to think. As he considered this, Jerry noticed it had suddenly become dark. And he was alone. Turning his mbumive head upward, he saw something new. Something was blocking the sky. It was dark and large and sat just beneath the surface. Maybe it was a new kind of whale. Jerry had always liked whales, if from a distance. With a squirt of water, he propelled himself upward to meet it.
As he reached out with a tentacle, something fell from above into the water with a blorp and a whoosh and a watery boom. It was large, but not nearly as large as the thing above. It was traveling downward toward the bottom of the sea at an alarming rate. Had his new friend just given birth? The baby was in danger! Jerry followed the trail of bubbles, going deeper and deeper into the dark, cold sea. He saw it hit the side of a deep trench and plunge further down. Jerry swam headfirst into the darkness, enduring the increasing pressure on his head. He was having trouble seeing now, but he continued on.
And then, he saw it, resting on the sandy floor. Jerry rushed to its side, rebumuring it that it would be all right. And yet, Jerry knew that he could not carry this mbumive creature on his back. His stabbing headache worsened, but Jerry reached out gently with his tentacles and touched the creature. It was cold, like the sea, and hard. It had a strange set of white and black scales, and Jerry ran his eight tentacles over them, counting 88. He pushed down on the scales and a soft sound came out. Was it talking to him? He ran his tentacles over the slippery scales and the creature made more sounds, singing higher and lower, depending on his touch. A wave of happiness came over Jerry as he and the creature sang together, their harmony echoing around the cavern and traveling up to the surface. A lone fish stopped and listened, briefly, wondering at the dissonant appoggiatura that then resolved into an open chord before it finally fell silent.
At the bottom of the ocean, all was quiet. Jerry lay over his charge, never to be lonely again. (view post) |
06/04/2010 |
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Phil's Fast Fiction ChallengeMy day job as a detective sometimes leaves me feeling uninspired. To get my creative mojo back, I will write you a very short story if you post: 1) A title for your story, and 2) One word you would like used somewhere in the story.
Note: I will try to keep up and do at least one a day. Don’t spam with titles; I probably won’t do more than one per person. (view post) |
06/04/2010 |
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Phantasmagoric Splendor - Art, intelligent talk and Bandy's drawingsMaybe somebody there holds the clue I need. (view post) |
05/31/2010 |
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The Doug December filesLog in to see images! (view post) |
05/22/2010 |
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The Doug December filesLog in to see images! (view post) |
05/21/2010 |
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The Doug December filesLog in to see images! (view post) |
05/20/2010 |
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The Doug December filesLola, it’s just after dawn and I have to get on the move. I met with Uli in that ridiculous German beer garden. They were playing some kind of loud folk music and I could barely hear him. Well, maybe that was the point. Uli told me some of the things Doug was involved with: the double-dealing and some kind of corporate espionage for a company in Rome called Donatello Tech. But here’s the funny thing—they don’t make medical equipment like they do at Doug’s company. Uli doesn’t know if they make anything at all, but I don’t know if I should believe him. He kept saying he was a nihilist, whatever the hell that is.
But I’m going to find this company; see what they know about Doug and if he’s even still alive. It’s hard to believe Doug would be involved with something like this, Lola. It just doesn’t feel right. I’m probably walking right into a trap, but I have to see it through. I’ll contact you when I can.
And keep the police out of it. I finally remembered who the third man reminded me of. His size and the way he sat in that chair—it had to be Captain Prescot. I hope I’m wrong. (view post) |
05/17/2010 |
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The Doug December filesFILE 0295A, continuation of the Doug December case
Lola, if you’ve found this tape, I need you to do me a favor. Transcribe it and take it to Marty downtown. I don’t trust most of the guys on the force anymore, but Marty’s okay. He’s young; one of those idealists. Then what I want you to do is take the rest of the money I have stashed in the icebox and get out of town. Don’t come looking for me, Lola. It ain’t safe. Here’s what happened after I left the office.
When I got into my car last night, those boys in the black sedan started tailing me. So I took the scenic route home; thought I lost them somewhere around Hawthorne. I got back to my apartment, but someone had been there already. The door was open a crack, so I kicked it wide and pulled out my gun. They were waiting for me: one in the kitchen, one ripping up my couch, and the one I didn’t see. I just felt the bum of his revolver on my head and it all went black.
When I came to, I was sitting in my kitchen chair. They’d tied my arms behind my back and the little one with an Italian accent kept asking me what I’d done with the money. I told him I didn’t know about any money. But they didn’t like that answer, and the big guy slugged me in the gut. Then they asked me when I’d last seen Doug. That’s when it got interesting. I wasn’t gonna rat Doug out, so I said I couldn’t remember, that being hit on the head must’ve messed up my memory. I got a punch in the jaw from the big guy for that. And then I saw the third man, sitting in my armchair, in the shadows. I couldn’t see his face, but there was something familiar about him. I knew I’d seen him before; maybe I knew him. But just as I started to get a closer look, I felt that familiar pain in the back of my head and the darkness came.
I woke up and Mrs. Gonzales, my landlady, was fussing over me. She’d heard the commotion and came downstairs and saw the three of them rushing out. She’d untied me and was about to call the police when I stopped her. There was something funny about that third man and I didn’t want to get the police involved until I figured out who he was. Good thing, too. That probably saved her life.
Lola: I have to check out a lead, something I’ve been thinking on. I hope I have a chance to get this all down on tape before it’s too late. (view post) |
05/16/2010 |
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Press release from the temporary office of the Governor Elect.I have initiated contact with all those suspected so far to be involved. According to my notes, CaptainDDL would like clarification on the exact date of RP’s death. Fortunato claims, regardless of the date, that he was busy masturbating. I wouldn’t want to rule out either suspect at this point. (view post) |
03/13/2010 |
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Press release from the temporary office of the Governor Elect.was Posted:
I think I can handle it. I’ll keep tabs on your suspects and let you know what I find. (view post) |
03/12/2010 |
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Press release from the temporary office of the Governor Elect.Sneaky27 Posted:
It doesn’t add up. See, the conservatory was locked from the inside. I think he’s protecting somebody else. Maybe a girl who got close to him once. (view post) |
03/12/2010 |
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Phil Marlot's OfficeFrank The Bunny Posted:
I found the answer in the Oscar-winning dogreat timesentary, The Cove. Unchecked human greed manifests as cruelty. That’s what killed Manphin. There’s a new guy now with the same name, but he’s no Manphin. (view post) |
03/12/2010 |
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Phil Marlot's OfficeProfMustard Posted:
To tell you the truth, ProfMustard, it’s not something I’ve given a whole lot of thought to before. I’m a practical man. My needs are pretty simple: a stiff drink to shake off the cold and a gal to keep me company on the nights when the whiskey won’t do. I can’t tell you why time travel hasn’t been invented; I’ll leave that to the eggheads. But I’ll tell you why it shouldn’t be: people will want to fix too many things and go back and undo all their regrets. Maybe you could save a life here or make a better choice there, but history has to stand and we have to know the terrible things we’ve done so that we can act differently next time.
Sorry there, I normally don’t get that philosophical. I guess you caught me on an unusual night. (view post) |
03/10/2010 |
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Case Notes: Transcribed 12.04.09click click click click ......... ... out the window. It’s a black sedan. click click click ... the one who’s been tailing me. Lola, I’m going to leave this tape here. Bring the transcription by my apartment tomorrow. Be careful you’re not followed. I’m going to sneak out the back and …
click (view post) |
03/10/2010 |
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Case Notes: Transcribed 12.04.09Note to Lola: We’re out of coffee filters and toilet paper makes crap out of my Indonesian blend. Take a few bucks out of the petty cash and get yourself a couple of cigars while you’re at it. You’re a real sweetheart.
Now, where was I? Oh yeah, I was about to pick up the ticket when the phone rang. Doug’s phone, not mine. I don’t know why I answered it. Maybe it was the funny ticket on the floor that sparked something in me and made me think something was wrong.
“Doug’s office” was what I started to say. I got as far as the “D..” before a voice on the other end interrupted me.
“Deec Ember,” said the guy, in a thick Italian accent. He sounded like one of the guys Antonio keeps around the back room of his grocery. The ones you don’t need to know what they’re saying to catch their meaning. “You owe me, Deec Ember. I wanna payment now or else I take a visit to that nice wife of yours. Maybe you let me spend an hour or two with her anyway. I’ll take off say, 20 percent? Thatsa real deal Deec Ember, on a bill like yours.”
“Who’s this?” I asked. “Where’s Doug and what does he owe you?” I said as I turned, looking out the back windows, as if the answer was out there.
“You stay out of this business if you know what’sa good for you,” the voice said.
“I can’t do that, pal,” is what I said. “You just threatened my friend and his wife. Now what—”
That’s when I heard the door to our office slam shut. I spun around and all I could see was a boy sprinting out into the street. He was gone in a flash. There was no use going after him. I looked down to where the airplane ticket had been sitting on the floor.
Gone. ****.
I raised the phone back up to my ear and started to say “Listen here,” but it was already dead. (view post) |
03/09/2010 |