FOOL AND FANTASY
SAYS 
IT APRIL BEST
Lascivious Ladies
and Garrulous Gents
Presents with zest ~
A DEBUT OF A COOL FOOL
JIM WISNESKI
with a lip-smacking hit!
THE RETURN
OF A FANTASY EPIC
BARRY J NORTHERN'S
"Chasing the Wind"
Showing posts with label fool. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fool. Show all posts
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
PROLIFERATING FANTASIES! Double*Feature Thursday & Tuesday AT THE BIJOU
Sense the Movie*Magic here ~
APRIL FANTASIES
from APRIL FOOLS
PROLIFERATE!
TWO FANTASY AUTHORS
WHO ARE NO FOOLS
DEBUT DEBUT
FOR ME! FOR YOU!
Lusty Ladies
and Gutsy Gents
proudly presents
two more of our mighty
HARBINGER*33
BARRY J. NORTHERN
AND
RICHARD M. JOHNSON
DoubleFeature
FANTASIES!FOOLS!
HOLD ON TO YOUR RED VELVET SEAT!
The action is about to swirl fasssssssssssst!
DO
~ Absolutely*Kate
and our fine staff of renown
COFFIN NAILS ~ By Richard M. Johnson of Harbinger*33
By ~ Richard M. Johnson
Damn! Philip Bantry thought as he sat on the ratty old couch staring into the Scotch bottle he had only moments ago finished. The only liquor left in his house, now, was a twelve-year-old-bottle of Port that he had been saving for a special occasion.
He smiled grimly. "Guess losing your job is as special an occasion as any..." The house replied with a slight creak, as it settled in for another miserable night of Philip boozing and puking.
Philip caught his own reflection in the mirror on the wall across the room and he waved at himself. The blurry figure beckoned back. "At least I’m not drinkin’ alone." he slurred, "… it’s only a drinking problem if you’re drinkin’ alone." Laughing at his brilliant remark, the scotch bottle slipped from Philip’s grasp and rolled as far away, as it could, from the man who had just finished badly abusing it.
“Oopsie!” Philip’s brow furred in drunken thought. “Oh, geez, I must be soused …” He spoke to his reflection, “I only quit cursing, when I’m really soused …”
As he stood up unsteadily, his foot caught one of the numerous beer cans littering the floor and sent it clattering across the tile to rest beneath the couch.
God, he thought, surveying his surroundings, what a dump. He giggled as he did his best Bette Davis impersonation. "What a dump!"
Philip was watching himself be an ass in the mirror when his left foot landed on the Scotch bottle that hadn’t quite escaped far enough away, and he fell.
***
When Philip came to, he found himself eye-to-toe with a red cloven hoof. He jumped back and struck his head on the coffee table. "Ow! What the hell?"
"Precisely," the other replied.
Philip crab walked back another few feet. "What … what are you doing in my house?"
The man in red smiled malevolently. "I have come for you."
"Yeah, right." Philip snorted.
The man pulled his red cape about himself, the hem swirling up slightly as it dusted the floor. "I have come for you, Philip Michael Bantry!"
Philip rubbed his bloodshot eyes. No, he thought through a half drunken haze, the man has horns on his head. It can't friggin’ be.
As if reading Philip's mind, the man replied, "You are correct in your assumptions. I am who you think I am."
Philip laughed as he stared up at the absurdly tall man. "Popeye?"
"NO!" The man in red raged. "I am your worst nightmare!"
"My ex-wife?"
"NO!!!" The man in red’s cloven hoof stomped down hard, crushing an errant beer can, and putting a crack in the cheap linoleum flooring .
Philip sniggered derisively."Then you must be the devil."
The man hurled his pitchfork to within an inch of Philip's feet; it embedded itself into the floor. "Yes!" the man bellowed angrily. "And now, you will pay for your insolence!"
Philip reached out nonchalantly and touched the pitchfork. His eyes filled instantly with understanding and fear. "Oh, God," he croaked, "it's real..."
The man in red strode over to him, his hooves sparking on the dirty green linoleum as he walked. With one hand, he picked Philip off the floor and suspended him to where his feet dangled freely. "Little man," he sneered.
Philip tried in vain to pry himself free from the man's grip. "I didn't mean it," he whimpered. "I thought you were the D.T.'s!"
The man tossed Philip effortlessly onto the couch and turned for his pitchfork.
Trembling, Philip saw that the man's back was turned. He grabbed an nearly empty bottle off the floor and charged the infernal figure.
Faster than the eye could follow, the man spun about and pinned Philip's hand to the wall with the pitchfork. "Ah... a feisty one, I see."
The cuff of Philip's shirt started to smoke slightly as the material began to slowly combust. He dropped the bottle. "I'm sorry. I don't want to go."
The corners of the man's lips curled. "You have no choice in this matter."
"But, I can't be dead ..."
The smile on the man's face faded as he ripped the pitchfork from the wall, freeing Philip's hand and dropping a cascade of plaster at Philip's feet. "You're not!" the man screamed, then calmed and added, "but you will be. Soon."
Philip's eyes widened. "Hold up there Sparky, you’re telling me that I'm not dead yet?"
The man sneered. "No, but you are scheduled for a suicide in less than three hours. A very messy suicide.” Your story will open the morning news on TV.”
“If it bleeds, it leads…” Philip mumbled.
“What?” The man in red cocked an ear toward his victim.
"Doesn’t matter…” Staring at the palm of his own hand, the lifeline that etched its way across his palm seemed shorter than it did yesterday. Philip shook his head, trying to clear his vision. “So… I'm not dead now?"
"No!" The man in red turned from Philip shaking with a barely contained rage.
"Then what are you doing here?"
"I fell behind in my work!" The man spun toward Philip and began to back him into the room’s corner. "I was picking up one of your neighbors, a Mr. Kasparian, I believe, and figured I could take you as well. You know, save myself a trip later."
Philip's face gleamed. "Then, I'm really not dead!"
The man pointed his pitchfork at Philip menacingly. "Quit being redundant!"
Philip slapped the pitchfork away. "Hah! I'm not going!"
"But you have nothing to live for."
"I do now." Philip stepped past the man in red and headed to the kitchen. "I didn't know I was going end up down there."
The man advanced on Philip slowly. "You’re still the man you were an hour ago. You're only going to make things worse for yourself … Add another nail to your coffin! You have no friends, no job, no money. Think of all your bills!"
Philip's smile widened as he reached up into a kitchen cabinet and withdrew the bottle of port. "What can be done, can be undone." He pulled open a drawer and grabbed a corkscrew. "It was the alcohol that screwed everything up.”
“No it wasn’t!” The man in red growled.
“Still” Philip grinned, “I can make new friends, find a job, earn money." Philip opened the bottle, sniffed the cork, and then poured it into the sink.
"But ..." the man started to say, but Philip cut him off.
"Save it, dude. I'm not going." He handed the man in red the empty bottle and pushed past him.
The man stared blankly at his own warped reflection in the bottle, then, in a sudden burst of fury, hurled it toward Philip's retreating form. It shattered on the doorframe as Philip passed into his bathroom.
Philip popped his head back out. "You are going to clean that up before you go, aren't you?"
The man in red, literally, cut a path through the couch with his pitchfork. "You will come with me, NOW!"
"No I won't." Philip laughed, stopping the man in red in his tracks. "I don't know where I read it, but I just remembered something about the fact that your kind can't directly harm humans. Is that true?"
The man screamed and kicked a hole in Philip's old black and white RCA portable. "I thought not." Philip grinned and ducked his head back into the bathroom.
For the next half hour, while Philip showered, shaved and dressed, the man in red ranted and raved, and tore the den to shreds.
***
Philip re-entered the room shaking his head as he headed toward the front door. "What will the neighbors think." He opened the door. "By the way, I am still insured. I was giving consideration to torching the place, for extra cash." With a smile on his face, Philip exited and closed the door behind him with a quiet click.
Removing the horns and placing his halo back on his head, the man in white knelt to pray. "Sorry, Lord, please forgive me for the destruction I caused. I do have a tendency to get carried away when I'm playing a part. Also forgive me for misleading Philip, but it was the only way I could think of to stop him from killing himself."
"You, above all, should know how much harder it is nowadays to pull something like this off." Smiling benignly, the man in white picked up the red costume and silently disappeared in a shimmer of light, as the den began to slowly reconstruct itself.
THE END
(c) 2010 ~ Author Richard M. Johnson
FANTASY AUTHOR RICHARD: Kate, I'm glad to heat it up AT THE BIJOU by fitting my fantasy into the theme of the month. Be well, be brilliant,
ABSOLUTELY*KATE: Oh Richard, of all sides of the theatre experience, writing, directing, acting . . . and now resident drama critic here AT THE BIJOU, you always may a heart so pleasured to see you, to read you . . . even when your imagination flirts with hell.
RICHARD: Well Kate, I like to quote Muhammad Ali on that mighty writer's subject ~ "The man who has no imagination has no wings".
ABSOLUTELY*KATE: Words worth a fighting chance, always, dear sir. Your words go many rounds in many ways ~ three of your poems are seeing action in the online literary magazine, Hot Valley Writers; you're in print in the The 6S Book of Love anthology, to ring the bell on but a few.
RICHARD: Thanks Kate. You promotionally plug authors rather well. Hot Valley Writers will be live until April 1st, 2010, so seek me in the back issues. If you want you can then go to the Back Issues/Archives section under VOLUME 1/NUMBER 3 - SPRING, 2008 - and read my Non-Fiction story "Driving With Ray" or last issue's micro fiction "At Least Everyone Got Out Alive".
ABSOLUTELY*KATE: NEED MORE ENRICHMENT OF RICHARD? Discover what he's doing, what he's proud of and even what makes his eyes light up revealed in our First Thursday Alert ~ AUTHOR! AUTHOR! THEY'RE NO FOOLS! {click, enjoy} recently playing to packed and traveling audiences AT THE BIJOU.
Thanks RICHARD
for a fantasy of a fool
AT THE BIJOU!
~ Absolutely*Kate
and our fine staff of renown
TAKE AN INTERMISSION
COME BACK FOR OUR
FOLLOWING FOOLS'
SPINNING PURE GOLD ~
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
PUTTING ON THE RITZ FOR FOOLS ~ Double*Feature Tuesday & Thursday AT THE BIJOU
LOOKING FOR ADVENTURE?
UP FOR THE DANCE?
FAME? FORTUNE?
A CHANCE OF ROMANCE?
is putting on the Ritz
for the
DEBUT!
CHRISTINA VINCENT
RETURNING GLITZ!
JEANETTE CHEEZUM
Lascivious Ladies
and Genial Gents
proudly presents
DoubleFeature
FOOLS!FOOLS!
THE FOOL'S JOURNEY ~ By Christina Vincent
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
THE FOOL'S
JOURNEY
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Introducing
new BIJOU author,
Christina Vincent
Something about the way the smoke seemed to swirl around her doorway drew me closer, and I shivered in spite of the massive bonfire. The air bit at my skin like autumn, as if spring had inverted itself just this once, for tonight only as a limited-time offer. I shook my head and stuffed my hands into my pockets. The music must be getting to me. It was impossible to stay still while bodies swam around the flickering lights and taut strings unleashed golden melodies in minor key that spun through the quickly darkening night. My head swayed back and forth, my legs found the rhythm of the music and walked in time, and I shook myself.
Her door was open but dark, with the faintest hint of rose petals tugging at the edges of my mind as I stepped inside. The candles in the back cast uneven light on the walls that could have been soft ivory or blood-soaked for all I could see. I shoved the glasses up the bridge of my nose and crept around the room’s perimeter, keeping an eye on the cool relief of night just outside.
“What are you afraid of?” The voice sang through the pitch, and I jumped. She laughed, warm and rich like bells wrapped in liquid gold. “Come here, you have nothing to fear from me.”
“I saw your door open,” I offered stupidly. “You were open before but I never… I mean, I was with people and we didn’t…”
“Hush and come here, sweet one. I won’t bite.” As I moved toward the voice, I could just make out her features. Raven hair so deep it sucked the warmth out of the candlelight and reflected it in her rich eyes. Delicate cheekbones, a swan’s neck and supple arms bared of the oceanic dress swirling around her. I gaped, and she laughed again. “I’m not quite the gnarled old hag you were expecting?”
I shook my head, face burning. “I wasn’t expecting… I don’t know what I was expecting.”
“Just not me,” she said, and I nodded. She sat on one side of a small circular table and held out her hand for me to take the chair opposite her. “Her hands were soft where they touched mine, turning my palms toward the ceiling though she barely glanced at them. “What brought you in here to me?”
An itch started between my shoulders. “I dunno. It’s the fair, I thought it might be fun.”
“There are much more entertaining pastimes by the bonfire,” she insisted quietly, and I swallowed hard.
“I don’t believe in anything anymore.” My voice was barely audible, and she nodded again and squeezed my hands.
“Now we’ve gotten somewhere.” She drew my hands closer to her and studied them in the dim light, her thumbs massaging my palms and smoothing across my wrists until my fingers went limp. “Answer my question,” she crooned. “What are you afraid of?”
My eyes stung, and I blamed it on the dry air from the candles. “Of not believing in anything anymore.”
She released my hands and pulled a black drawstring bag from somewhere out of my line of sight. Inside was a deck of cards, rich royal purple backs with a black and gold border. Simple. I couldn’t stop staring at them. She spread them in an arc between us. “Choose,” she invited me, her hands hovering over the edges of the table. I met her snapping eyes.
“How many?”
“As many as you wish.”
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. That corner of my mind that said this was ridiculous was oddly silent while my fingers brushed along the smooth backs. When I opened my eyes, three cards sat in front of me, with the rest tucked back into the drawstring bag. She smiled at me and turned over the center card. I was staring at a satyr. “The Fool,” she murmured, catching my hand and tracing my finger along the creature’s outline. “This is you.” Her voice held a teasing lilt, and I snickered. She turned over the card to its left.
A dark-haired woman in the flowing white robe stood between two Roman columns. “The High Priestess,” I read, looking back up.
“Your past,” she murmured gently. “Your former guidance. That mysticism and instinct that once led you down a path you thought you were destined to take. But that isn’t the case any longer.” She pointed to the Fool. “You’ve emerged from the cave like a newborn. There aren’t stone walls around you to shield you any longer, and you feel alone.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. It was like her hands had been plunged in snow. I shivered. “You can’t rely on a sense of mystical guidance to lead you.”
“So then I shouldn’t even be here.”
She lifted one shoulder in a gesture too graceful to be called a shrug and flipped over the final card. I caught a glimpse of a figure robed in black and grey with a tall sickle before the candles flickered out.
(c) 2010 ~ Author Christina Vincent
Premiering AT THE BIJOU!
Well sure, Carrie Clevenger brought CHRISTINA VINCENT around AT THE BIJOU . . . that should tell you that fantasy would fly fast and frenetic . . . pulling you in . . . to want more, more ... and also explain the ruckus with Eddie up there by the BIJOU popcorn popper as supply-side economics increase dramatically.
CHRISTINA: Hi Kate!
ABSOLUTELY*KATE: *Magic* ~ AT THE BIJOU the shows must go on -- and your story, well, NCAA slam'dunk aside, it was FOOL-proof for Double*Feature debut. You're up on stage now 'Stina ~ Just go ahead, take the open mic and dance your soft shoe into folks hearts and minds. I know we already like your story-tellin' style.
CHRISTINA: You're right ~ I am a storyteller as well as a lunatic, former supervillain and occasional human being posting poetry, prose, rants, and other goodies at my site Naps In The Library. Don't go down to the Library Basement unless you have your over 18 membership card, because inappropriate things happen in the basement. Every Wednesday and Sunday, my muse Amelia tells another piece of her story Interludes, for those who enjoy a good bout of wickedness with a criminal vampire. Sometimes I even remember to breathe.
ABSOLUTELY*KATE: Well keep breathin' and coming round AT THE BIJOU. Our writers' hits just keep on comin' too, sorta like Granderson's homer as his first at bat in the Yankees/Sox season opener. Uh, what's that contraption you got there?
CHRISTINA: Kate, I brought a gift for you and BIJOU fools and followers ~ Some folks are as jumpy as me without a caffeine fix so the Library is officially sponsoring a GIANT espresso machine to park right in the nice dark corner AT THE BIJOU I hear Carrie likes to hang out in ... and perhaps a crazy straw.
CHRISTINA: You crazy theater folk. Thank you so much for letting me try my hand at the theatrics. I look forward to seeing more attractions AT THE BIJOU and I'm thrilled to thrill whenever there's a spot for me.
ABSOLUTELY*KATE: Christina, you are most welcome. Now that your espresso cup and your heartiness is full, enjoy a plush red velvet seat for the return of a BIJOU top act of renown, Jeanette Cheezum with an endearing Fool tale to tell.
CHRISTINA: Kate, I have to say, that even before I was officially in the playbill, you've made me feel so welcome and at home here AT THE BIJOU that I just want to curl up and stay here after library hours are up. Good thing you're looking to keep me, because I am absolutely planning to write anything your candy heart desires for as long as you'll have me. Jeanette, I have heard nothing but the finest praise about you, and I am beyond thrilled to make my debut with a feature beside someone so talented and respected! Carrie, I owe you a batch of cookies.
ABSOLUTELY*KATE: Uh, you're gonna get along well with the wise whimsical queen of our concessionaries too. Just bring her Milk Duds and you'll go far. You oughta share those cookies too. Folks are always hungry for more ~ AT THE BIJOU -- Sugar? Got someone here I'd like you to meet - -
Thanks Christina
for fooling around
AT THE BIJOU!
~ Absolutely*Kate
and our fine staff of renown
GET YOUR POPCORN!
THE NEXT ACT
IS SPUN OF PURE
FOOLS' GOLD!
IS SPUN OF PURE
FOOLS' GOLD!
APRIL FOOL ~ By Jeanette Cheezum of Harbinger*33
APRIL FOOL
By ~ Jeanette Cheezum
Jimmy Scott always came around her playing the fool. How could he believe anyone would listen to him? Everyone knew he’d never been serious a day in his life. Even his birthday was on April 1st.
Last night he asked Poppa if he could take her out. Thank God, Poppa laughed in his face. The thought of that fool trying to hold hands or even talking to her . . . left her clammy.
Now, if Tommy Clark asked her out she’d be ready in ten minutes. But he’s too shy. She’ll never have that pleasure.
***
Saturday night, school was having a big dance. Alice would have to stand over in the corner unless she danced with the girls. The new blue and white dress . . . Tommy’s favorite colors, lay across the bed.
Alice hoped he’d notice her --. Just as the dress fell to her knees the doorbell rang. She’d better get the door before Poppa shouted from the other end of the house.
She ran as fast as her legs could, and flung the door open.
“Are you ready?” Junie asked while straightening her bodice.
“Yes, let me grab my purse.” Excited she ran out the door forgetting to kiss her parents good-bye.
They giggled all the way to school. When they walked in the gymnasium, Tommy stood in the middle of the floor with Dicky and two girls she’d never seen before.
“Who are these girls?” Junie asked.
“Not sure, but Tommy doesn’t seem bashful with them.” She felt jealous and moved closer to hear their conversation.
The DJ started his forty-fives. Rock Around the Clock by Bill Haley and the Comets blared on his record player.
“Oh, Junie, I wish Tommy would ask me to jitterbug. He’s so dreamy.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather slow dance?” Junie asked. “Someone told me the other day this DJ has all the Platters latest songs.”
“I’d dance anyway he wanted me too.”
After three songs, she saw Tommy and Dicky lead the girls out onto the dance floor.
Her eyes filled with tears and she ran to the restroom before they spilled. The DJ played . . . What Kind of Fool Do You Think I Am? Her sobs bounced off the walls in loud bursts.
After a while, Junie came to check on her. “Wash your face and come on out of here --, Bobby said Tommy’s dancing with his cousin.”
She left the restroom with hope in her heart, just in time to see Tommy make his moves on the dance floor.
***
Someone touched her shoulder. She turned —
Jimmy Scott smiled from ear to ear, “Would you like to dance?” he held out his hand.
Alice felt her cheeks burn . . . how could he embarrass her like that? Would everyone know he had a crush on her? She stepped away from him and ran back to the restroom, swearing she never wanted to see him again.
Did Tommy see them?
Her reputation would be marred for life.
(c) 2010 ~ Author Jeanette Cheezum
Premiering AT THE BIJOU ! WELCOME BACK JEANETTE CHEEZUM! We're proud AT THE BIJOU of how your young at heart sensations take us back to remember*when dance floor feelings.
JEANETTE: I’m really proud of what I’ve done this past year, (2009) I published 160 stories of various sizes, all over the net and in a couple of books. This year so far: I’ve published 52 stories, in four new books, the forthcoming HARBINGER*33 and finished my third novel. PLUS, gag me if you must, but I'd still let you know I rush home from late Saturday dance dates with my husband Tom whom I continue to fall more in love with every day, just to find out how my latest fate is all tied up AT THE BIJOU's Murdery Mystery Matinees. The weekend shows of "THE PRINTS AND THE POPPER" are not only twisty-turner killers, but in last week's epicsodes they even handed out the recipes for Mexican Martinis! Do you think Anthony can make a pitcher of those when folks read all my stories?
ABSOLUTELY*KATE: Jeanette, when Ant comes out of Bukowski's Basement, that's why they call his new hit bar The Lucky Shot in "THE PRINTS AND THE POPPER" epic'sodes. I imagine he can mix up top shelf hootch concotions the same way he and you and AT THE BIJOU writers tend to write ~ as top notch crowd-pleasers. And good luck on getting free. Saaaaaay - what does someone have on you to try to keep you on the ropes like that? It's a mystery to me.
Do drink up to many further writes of Jeanette by clicking on her name AT THE BIJOU's "Cavalcade of Stars". There are many of us!
Much Thanks Jeanette
for fooling around
AT THE BIJOU!
~ Absolutely*Kate
and our fine staff of renown
GET YOUR MILK DUDS
AND MIND YOUR MARTINIS
THE NEXT ACT
IS GONNA FOOL YA!
IS GONNA FOOL YA!
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