Discussion in 'The Games Room' started by Benchista, Jan 3, 2014.
Oooh I hope so proclaimed the author
But his hopes were frustrated as the postman knocked and returned a dozen manuscripts from publishers marked Rejected. Not enough sex and violence read some. Too much sex and violence read others. Would "The Pawnbroker's Photograph" ever reach the bookstalls?
He looked again at the highly illustrative photograph which filled the centre-spread which featured the wild-eyed, manically-giggling, Isabella, entertaining a corpulent pleasure-seeker who was on a fact-finding mission for the European Union. A minor dignitary - whom, it must be admitted, looked somewhat rather less than dignified as he lay upside-down, strapped, gagged and bound tightly to the cellar's 'piece-de-resistance', an 'iron-maiden'. The man was clearly and very graphically screaming in pleasurable terror as the Senorita administered her favourite treatment, the 'Waspberry whip' - a mere snip of a trip at only 3,000 euros per strike. If the book was to achieve decent sales then, perhaps it might be time for a tactical re-edit, he thought.
So he began
to consider his options. Unfortunately, mid-consideration, he started to feel decidely unwell. Really, very very unwell. Reader, he died.
"AH; I'VE BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO MEETING YOU FOR QUITE SOME TIME................."
"Errr, without wanting to be rude, are you getting enough to eat?" he asked the tall, decidely thin gent who was holding what looked awfully like a scythe
Funny you should ask that he replied
Not so funny for you, now which is it to be, the pearly gates, or the other place? Well, I've been quite good, he replied, apart from those photos, oh and the old lady I gave £5 to for her old man's fob watch and then sold for £2,000, do you think that will be on the record? Can't say said the man with the scythe, I only top 'em, it's them upstairs and downstairs that decides. But if I know which way you think you are going, I can makes sure all bits end up there?
"Is there any way you can delay my onward journey" He pleaded to the man with the scythe. "I am really not ready to see where my fate lies"
The tall thin gent with the scythe thought for a few moments " Yes, my dear friend that can be done. You are going by Southern rail. Who knows when you'll get there" He replied with an evil grin.
It had all been a terrible dream, a nightmare from which he awoke with his mouth full of glossy photographic paper. The book lay in tatters in his lap. The overwhelming sense of guilt and shame returned. He gave a choking cough which brought on an agonising pain to his chest, he struggled to release more paper with desperate fingers but he was again fast running out of breath, and he realised that his end was imminent. He was choking to death and the light was fading from his eyes. His foolishness had been his final undoing.
Very Cameronesque thought the greyish slim scythe wielder.... still another one chalked off...they all count and the boss likes to count on me
And with that, he set off to find the photographer who had taken the shots in the first place. His time was surely up.
But something was gnawing at him.... of course.... he hadn't left the maggots behind to feast on the corpse, so the little buggers were feasting on him instead.
Far away in a distant print shop worked an assiduous photo-printer intent on bringing some sense of order and discipline to a filing system that had become a jumbled, uncategorised mess. As he patiently checked, annotated and re-filed with a new alpha-numeric system of his own devising, his eye fell upon a torn and faded cardboard file marked in bold lettering: "Not For General Viewing". He opened it carefully and extracted a packet of 7X5" negatives, before carrying them across to a lightbox where he began a comprehensive review of the material. It was to prove a fatal mistake. . . . TBC
Because he realised to his horror that he was now in an entirely new story line and therefore, by the rules of the game, had handed Spinno the victory....
Ah, there's the rub. But then it's surely time we brought this whole sad saga to its final conclusion.
Amen to that.
Said the Bishop.
To the actress.
Separate names with a comma.