Friday the Thirteenth! 

Who’s afraid of Freddy Krueger then? Lights a fag from the stub of the last one and sneers. 

Look at yourselves will you. Frightening yourselves shitless about a random date and a fictional monster. 

Get a grip!

Friday the Thirteenth is just another day. It is no more unlucky than any other day. 

To illustrate: I met my late and unlamented spouse on a Friday. Only it wasn’t the thirteenth. And I couldn’t blame luck. Nope. I wound up married to the louse because of the effects of rough cider not the friggin’ date….

So. Get out from under the bed. Get your legs down the appropriate holes in your trousers (or pants if you are a bloody colonial), and try to act like you have a brain cell.

Stop watching horror films if you don’t have the balls to realise they are fiction. 

Don’t be looking for lucky items of clothing, just put your adult panties on and get on with the day.

Do not walk around with your fingers crossed. You will only wind up hurting yourself.

Put the bloody rabbit foot down. It isn’t lucky for f***’s sake. The poor bloody rabbit is dead!

To cut a possibly very long rant a little shorter here is the bottom line.

Superstition is crap. It will never be anything but crap. It is designed to sell crap. And to allow the feeble-minded to blame their inadequacies on a higher power.

Again I say crap.

If I see anybody surreptitiously turning their money in their pocket, or avoiding their reflection I shall be kicking ass…

And as for tomorrow being Valentine’s Day, do you really want to get me started on that too?

You do?

That bitchfest in the name of lerv? That commercialisation of affection? That show the world how perfect your relationship is? That Gw***** P*****w of festivals?

In case you hadn’t guessed, Granny really don’t approve.

When I was a gel, your boyfriend sent you a card he had bought in Woolworths and probably forgot to take the price ticket off of. You showed it to your mum and your best friend and put it in a box with all your souvenirs. End of. And if nobody sent, well only you and your mum  and your best friend knew. No real harm done – unless your best friend was a bitch.

Nowadays nothing is that simple. Today you have to Instagram the card, the flowers, the jewels, the wine, the food, the guy, the naughty underwear…

Stop it. For the love of sanity. Do. Not. Do. It.

But. Given that it will occur and every halfwit on the planet will be posting the biggest lie they can concoct… 

Here’s the plan.

Buy yourself a bouquet of something pretty. Photograph it. Post it on all your social media with no explanation.

When somebody is rude enough to ask simply say the flowers were from your greatest admirer. Truth. And. Sorted…

Advice for chaps. If you are from the side of the room with dangly bits and facial hair the advice to you is Do Not Forget. Your life may depend on it… also a large present and a suitably soppy card can result in the sort of sexual favours you have only dreamed of.

Piss off. I’ve said all I’m going to say and you are annoying me now.

Happy Friday suckers!

Some whimsical words on whimsical themes…

The WI President’s chest
Was enclosed in a Viyella vest
But a yoga demonstration
Went wrong in translation
Causing one breast to fall from its nest

Jane Jago

Poems of puppy Fozzie Jago as he is exploring and experiencing the world!

The sky has been leaking for days.
And days
It washes the garden away.
Away
There’s wet water and bogs
And red mud that clogs
And no place for Fozzie to play.
To play

Jane Jago

It never seemed fair to Tammy. Why was it when autumn came that all the trees kept their green except the River Tree? 

She sat in her wheelchair and wondered if he was sad when his glorious green mantle turned to red and gold, then lifted away when the winds blew, leaving him standing gaunt on the riverbank.

He alone must die whilst those trees around him stayed green and strong.

Tammy watched the sunset, golden behind the River Tree. At least he would come alive again in the spring. She hoped she would still be there to see him…

Eleanor Swift-Hook

Take this exclusive opportunity to explore the mysteries of the zodiac through the wisdom of the esoterically enigmatic Madam Pendulica…

Aries

The cuddly lambs of the zodiac. Scratch an Arian between the ears and gambol about in the grass with them and you will have a lover for on whom you can depend.

Never show an Aries any harsh behaviour. They will run away.

Taurus

The laziest of lovers a Taurus will always be torn between making love and having a nice rest. Be gentle in your expectations and a Tauren will be faithful for life.

Never get between a Taurus and a bed, you will be crushed.

Gemini 

This sign never knows what it wants in a relationship. One face is absorbed in the relationship of the moment while the other is looking about for something new. Unsettling.

Never leave your Gemini lover alone with your best friend.

Cancer

Cancerians have a propensity towards the less gentle pleasures of the bedroom and are prone to pinching. Keep the upper hand and your love life will never be boring.

Never allow a Cancerian anything sharp.

Leo

The lion likes to roar and loves to be admired, but is mostly only interested in his or her own gratification. Purr a bit and they will know how to treat you.

Never have a mirror in the bedroom with a Leo or you won’t stop them admiring themselves for long enough to enjoy any physical closeness.

Virgo

The conundrum of the zodiac. Virgo lovers pretend disinterest and even dislike although in truth they are virtually insatiable. Keep fit if you want to stay in a relationship with a Virgo.

Never believe a Virgo headache, it’s just a ploy to make you work harder at convincing them.

Libra

While your Libra lover is weighing the consequences of each and every action and embrace, you will be able to get in plenty of nice naps. If you are not bothered by speed or continuity a Libra will get there in the end.

Never offer a Libra any choices or you will lose the will to live while they consider.

Scorpio

If you want affection avoid Scorpios like the plague. Ditto if you want fidelity or kindliness. However, if you want your bottom spanked… Experimentation is meat and drink to Scorpios so expect the unexpected.

Never let your Scorpio handcuff you to the bed. They may just find it amusing to leave you there.

Sagittarius 

The lover with the truest aim. Sagittarians are true bedroom athletes and satisfaction is guaranteed. Enjoy.

Never expect a good night’s sleep 

Aquarius 

The workaholics of the zodiac. Love is just another burden to this lot. But if you can wrest the water pot away from them they make charming lovers.

Never allow an Aquarius to bring their work into the bedroom.

Pisces

Cheerfully amoral, Pisceans are extremely able lovers and very good company. Open a bottle of something expensive and prepare to enjoy the ride.

Never let a Pisces see you care. It frightens them off. 

Madame Pendulica predicts she will return…

Today there were snowdrops
Pushing green lances
Through the dull earth
To the sky.

The small white blooms bowing
With heads in lace veils
Brides of the spring
Bright and blythe.

Winter’s last rearguard
Summer’s first promise
At this moment
Seasons bide.

True heralds of nature
Announcing a rebirth:
‘Life doth return
Hope stands high’.

Today there were snowdrops
With heads in lace veils
At this moment
Hope stands high.

E.M. Swift-Hook

Dying to be Cured is set in a modern-day Britain where the Roman Empire still rules. Dai and Julia take on a fight against institutional corruption whilst dealing with the demands of family, friendship and domestic crises.

Stopping the chair she opened the door, expecting some sort of chapel or monastic cell. Only to find what appeared to be a private room in a hospital. She didn’t like the look of it at all, but there was nothing to be done except push Gwen into the room. Once inside, she placed a warning finger on her friend’s earlobe before tenderly helping her up onto a high, narrow bed, with cot sides. As she leaned over to lift the side she placed her lips close to Gwen’s ear. 

“Bugged,” she breathed, “and a two-way mirror if I am not very much mistaken.”

Gwen squeezed her hand.

The door opened to admit a skinny young man in the garb more of a hospital orderly than a priest. He was pushing a rattling trolley. 

“Herbal tea for,” he checked a clipboard hanging on the trolley, “Gwendolyn Tyrweth.” He selected a cup and flashed a toothy smile. When Julia leaned forward to take the infusion, he whispered in her ear. “It’s just a mild sedative. Your meal ticket is perfectly safe.”

Julia forced a grin and took the cup from his hand.

Being very careful not to depart from her role as nurse-companion, Julia placed an arm under Gwen’s shoulders assisting her to sit upright whilst proffering the cup. 

Gwen lifted the cup to her lips and her nose twitched slightly. “Strong sedative by the smell,” she murmured. 

“Only drink a little then,” Julia answered her under the cover of reorganising the pillows. She wasn’t prepared to have Gwen completely comatose if she could help it.

Gwen sipped and Julia thought furiously, before deciding simple was best. She took the cup from Gwen’s fingers and carried it over to the wash basin directly under the mirror, where she poured the rest of the drink down the drain. All the time she kept up the sort of gentle monologue she imagined a real nurse might use to soothe a fretful patient. Going back to the bed she plumped the pillows and smoothed the coverlet. Even having only taken a very small proportion of the dose, Gwen seemed very sleepy and Julia wondered at the strength of the full cup. Gwen’s mouth was moving and she leaned in to listen. 

“I’m not nearly so drowsy as I’m making out. Don’t worry.”

Julia placed her cool hand on Gwen’s forehead and watched as her friend’s breath grew slow and even. 

Their next visitor was a smart looking man in the white priestly robe of a novice who smiled reassuringly.

“I am going to pray for your lady, to purify her spirit before she is taken to the Inner Sanctuary where the Pontifex will lay hands on her and perform a full healing service. It can take some time, so we always let our visitors sleep through it. Then, if they are blessed, they may awaken feeling better. Meanwhile, you’ll need to answer a few questions. Sorry about that. We do have to make sure who we are dealing with.” 

Julia showed him her puzzled face, so he continued. “We have had a few irreligious folk trying to ‘debunk’ us and make out we are not healing people. There are always doubters, but we don’t need them here.”

Julia lifted a shoulder. “Fair enough, but watch her carefully please. She actually does have heart trouble.”

“So noted. She will be quite safe here, I promise you. And can you take that antiquated wheelchair with you? These rooms are so small it gets in the way. Why doesn’t she have a nice new lightweight?”

“And miss all the fun of me sweating and cursing as I maneuver this one?”

The male novice grinned.

“If you carry on to the end of the corridor there’s a sitting room where you can wait. The subadiuva will be along in a moment to ask you those questions.  But you won’t be disturbed after that as you are the only nurse with this lot. There are a couple family members, but they won’t be joining you they wanted to go back to their cupona as soon as they’ve settled their loved ones in.”

“I might just catch a nap then,” Julia managed a grin as she wrestled the chair out of the room. 

The door at the end of the corridor was marked ‘Visiting Carers’ and it opened into a bright, airy room whose big window looked out onto a pleasant garden. There was a door beside the window, and when Julia tried the handle she found it gave access to a sunny patio. She shoved the wheelchair out there and sat down in its cushioned  depths to consider her options. What was going on? Why such a powerful sedative for Gwen? What would other supplicants be getting into? It was beginning to look as if there was considerably more than prayer and blessing going on. And she didn’t like it a bit. 

A genteel cough from behind had her turning a scowling face to a mouselike woman with a palmtop in her hand.

“I’m sorry to disturb you Nurse…..”

“Just nurse. If I had another name I’ve forgotten it. And who are you?”

“Adria Plautia Tacita, subadiuva to the Pontifex. I’d just like to check a few facts about yourself and your employer.”

“Check away then.”

The process took some twenty minutes, and as far as Julia could see its only purpose was to make sure she really did have some medical knowledge. Fortunately, she had enough to support her role as as a carer and the subadiuva seemed satisfied. Once the interrogation was over, Tacita scuttled away and Julia whisked the handles off the wheelchair, shoving the components of the two guns in her capacious pockets and reassembling the chair. She then went in search of the privacy of the visitors restroom, before anyone else could turn up and hinder her.

Dying to be Cured by Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook first appeared in Gods of Clay: A Sci Fi Roundtable Anthology.

Advice on growing old disgracefully from an elderly delinquent with many years of expertise in the art – plus free optional snark…

If you’re old, be a shining example
Of all that in life we should sample
The life of a saint
And total restraint
Not a sex-kitten who’s quite arm full!

E.M. Swift-Hook

Some whimsical words on whimsical themes…

You really should join us they said
We make, cookies, and doughnuts and bread
So she ambled along
Though the opening song
Made her wish she had stayed home in bed

Jane Jago

Poems of puppy Fozzie Jago as he is exploring and experiencing the world!

Hooms must get up and work now
And make the Foz him’s tea
Some chiggun will I has now
And a bit of cheez or three

Jane Jago