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Untangling Wires

He sat staring at the blank screen knowing he was breaking rule numero uno: donít sit staring at the blank screen. The exhortation from Ged Massenburg to order supplies of Viagra at the knockdown price of $3.99 was an irrelevance by now. Space travelling ducks from Q8j49ílk had long since preyed on pickled livers of Frenchmen whose good living left them prone to intergalactic Foie Gras Force attacks. Interest was no longer focussed on Japan's overtaking of the U.S. as the world's leading carmaker. NATO had of late expressed regret over its killing of so many civilians in Afghanistan. The jeering witnesses at the execution of Saddam Hussein had already gone. The local homophobic vigilantes, whose badly punctuated missive urged caution while preaching conspiracy, had misspelt paederasty for the last time. The selection of London street names designed to foster a sense of place had lain dormant for so long they had acquired their own geographical status. Unread books had been stacked so tall they had given rise to waves of panic that reverberated across every unfinished sentence in his head. The list of things to do had got so huge even the sub-lists that had grown out of it had subdivided. All that was left were a host of unresolved New Yearís promises jostling for resolution, a mess of tangled wires from plastic hardware, festive lights and extension cables, and a white screen increasingly sullied by black type. Heíd hoped to make a fresh start. It was after all only Jan 3rd.

Story by:

Phil Doran

submitted at 12:38am

13 June 2009

Phil Doran's web:

http://thespaghettifaction.blogspot.com