Rebecca (not that one)

From 0 to 8, Rebecca didn’t much care to be around people. By the time she turned 9, that hadn’t changed. In school, she was supposed to like Jesus, but he was a zombie, which was kind of interesting and, anyway, he never bothered her.
Her mother, she knew, worried.
“You know how, when a little girl dies, they always say how outgoing and fun she was? What could I say?” She wore a t- shirt that said ‘More Blacks. More Dogs. More PROUD Irish Single Mums!’
When she came home from school that day, her mother’s friends were there, drinking wine in the living room. She liked to sit in the corner and listen. They often said mean things about people who weren’t there and used the word ‘cunt’ wrong. She’d looked it up.
Usually they forgot she was there after a bit, or pretended to, which was the same thing, but today they kept looking at her sideways and giggling. She didn’t like it, so she didn’t even moan when her mother asked her to fetch another box of wine from the shed.
The giggling followed her through the kitchen and out the back door and into the garden and “SUUURRRPPPRRRIIISSSE!!!!” A bunch of people were shouting at her, people from school, people everycuntingwhere. She did the only thing she could. She ran- in the back door, through the kitchen, up the stairs and into her room. She tried to lock the door until she remembered there was no key.
She lay on the bed a long time, letting embarrassment and anger fight it out for the championship. She tried to look through her book on draft horses, but the differences between a Clydesdale and a Schleswig Holstein suddenly seemed unimportant. She wished that she just wasn’t.
Eventually, inevitably, there was tapping on her door. Her mother’s head appeared with that slightly wonky look it sometimes got after some wine.
“I’m sorry Bec. I thought it would be… good? Anyway, they’re all gone now.”
“I ran away! How can I.. school… I can’t.” she was sniffling.
“Oh, I told them that you’d had too many birthday martinis, like James Bond, and that you needed a rest, like… James Bond. Actually, I think they were kind of impressed. By Monday, it’ll be forgotten. Promise. Maybe we could watch a movie or something? I’ll make hot chocolate?” Sometimes she babbled.
“I say we take off and nuke the entire site from orbit!”
Rebecca bounced on the bed.


I tried to be an author once.

I chain- smoked cigarettes and didn’t pay my gambling debts

I Nursed a drinking problem, watched it blossom by the bottle.

I wrote a bad novella in which everybody dies

I pretended not to care about award and praise and prize.

I cut back on exposition, wrote about a magic kitten.

But the bastards wouldn’t buy the book; they called it overwritten.

Now, in the red and all unread I have to earn to make the rent

There’s little that I’m trained to do… except teach writing tricks to you.


There once was a man from Nantucket,

He died.

So will you and everyone else. F**k it.

I tried.


Percy Bysshe caught a monster fish,

And he brought it home to Mary.

Said she, “I just wrote Frankenstein,

Your foolish fish don’t scare me.”





Leonardo Damon’s Long Weekend

Suckin' Diesel!

Leonardo Damon’s Long Weekend


Leonardo Damon woke up feeling awful, a feeling that could not wholly be accounted for by the empty whiskey bottle lying on the floor beside him. Then he saw the tin foil lying on the floor beside the empty whiskey bottle. It had been a heavy night. He raised his head and looked around the room. Nobody. They’d gone while he was asleep, thank god. His mother used to say about guests that it was nice to see them come but, by god, it was nice to see them go too. It was even nicer not to see them go, he thought.

He pulled himself up onto his elbow and threw up all over one of the old loafers that he wore for work. His ex was visiting her mother with the kids this weekend, or at least he thought it was this weekend, which…

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Help the Greek People to Help Themselves

Help the Greek People.

Check out this amazing idea (not my idea, I just came across it and thought the least I could do was help draw attention to it).

All this dithering over Greece is getting boring. European ministers flexing their muscles and posturing over whether they can help the Greek people of not. Why don’t we the people just sort it instead?

The European Union is home to 503 million people, if we all just chip in a few Euro then we can get Greece sorted and hopefully get them back on track soon. Easy.