The Adventures of
there were sitting rocks and then there were looking rocks. rocks had to be stratified this way as it was very hard to find good sitting rocks and equally good looking rocks. you knew a rock was good for an ol' sit the minute you planted your rear on it for a minute- an instinctive reaction.if you happened to catch sight of another rock near-by whilst sitting on your grey cushion then you could dispose of hours at its viewing.
moonface had done this to occupy himself for as long as he could remember. it was often an act of waiting. he dedicated what i suppose was 3 hours to this activity. nothing better to do really. he waited everyday on a rock with an umbrella and a watering can and envied the blue-green marble that taunted him so. he was quite saddened by it all, he grasped the umbrella, wanting it to rain to justify his depression. but he hoped one day that he could grow something, thus the watering can. the lack of an atmosphere was a hinderance however. but moonface had no concept of the need for an atmosphere for him to fulfil his desires. so he remained sitting and looking, breaking up these periods by waiting, deluded by hopes.
comets and space debris fly by backdrops of galactic switchboards. though the height of respectability, fresh shirt, nice tie and ironed trousers-moonface, he had some vices too. not always faithful to his looking rock, his eyes would coyly hover upwards. and he would stick out his tongue and say :
''still no rain!! fiddle bows!!! ''
he was a cheeky one. he often thought about the giant rocks in the sky, above and around him. what did live there, did they have such a fine selection of sitting and looking rocks? he liked to pose these questions, a tad banal up there on the moon. there was no denying that something was missing. his crater face was almost as hollowed as his heart. had been through quite a lot you see. his father would beat him with his asteroid belt. such a thrashing he was often dealt. his mother was always more supportive though, but she couldn't make it to many a school show. one time he played a left-ventricle in a pantomime about heart-disease. his portrayal received critical acclaim but when he looked out in the sea of people, she was nowhere to be seen. sheaorta've been there.
he was used to disappointment though, so he didn't take it personally. his trust in women was a problem. he never let the girls at school near him. he was scared of their danglies see. he just didn't know what to make of them. a keen scientist, he tried to claspe one at a barn-dance they had for kids one year and was promptly slapped in the chops. he spilt his drink on his flashy suit at that moment and has abstained from talking to girls ever since. it was for the best. he had awful luck with relationships.
he had this goldfish for about a week before it jumped out of it's bowl and drowned itself. it was strange one indeed. it's name was terry and he sometimes had his friends over for blackjack. all that stopped after the drowning though. unless there's a fish heaven with a cloud casino. terry would have loved that he had been playing cards ever since his uncle had taught him how to play go fish.
it was a lonely existence. when it got dark and cold, moonface retired to his quarters. it was just a mattress, but it was his mattress, and if anyone said other wise he had the DNA samples to prove it. awful social skills you see, he didn't know that kind of stuff wasn't on. he wrote letters constantly to magazines he'd never seen or didn't exist ; to his pen-pal tide, but he didn't have any bottles on him so he never sent them-he even wrote letters asking for fingernails, i guess he was pretty daft i suppose. when he was feeling especially artistic, he'd try his hand at poetry or prose. here's an tidbit :
'' i wish i had oxygen
it'd be handy for the breeving ''
yeah, big girls blouse for certain. he even went moon-dusting from time to time. gravity gets into some pesky places don't you know. all in all a big huge wuss. fell over in the playground once and grazed his knee. cried for hours he did. all because he didn't have blood like the other kids. couldn't afford it you see.
could be good, but punctuation and under-editing put me off reading it. Redraft it and then im sure I will get much further into the story. Penelope xx
sheaorta've been there
Wow. Impressive pun.
I like the loose conversational writing, if anything it made this piece easy for me to read, but maybe that's just how my mind works. Also its quite funny, but I can imagine not to everyone's tastes.