Sunday, September 29, 2019

The Ontario Science Centre at 50 - Fabulous World

The Ontario Science Centre opened on September 26, 1969. In 1971 I made my first visit there as part of a school trip. The architecture and layout of the buildings, all interconnected by bridges and tunnels (containing escalators), made an impression on me. The exhibits, some of which exhibited and explained the explosion of technology, were equally memorable -- I remember playing with and being thrilled by the portable electronic calculator (which was secured to a table).

One of my strongest memories of the day concerns a certain motion picture which played in rotation at the museum's movie theatre. My dad played the role of a chaperone on that school trip, and he asked me if I wanted to see the flick as advertised by the one-sheet (showbill). I recognized which picture this was as I had seen it on German and French television a few times when we lived in (then) West Germany: The Fabulous World of Jules Verne (Original Czech: Vynález zkázy). I was enthralled and charmed.

On this side of the pond we got the slightly-Americanized version; complete with an unnecessary introduction by Hugh Downs. Almost certainly the print shown on my German-made telly was a dubbed version of the original Czech.

Interesting note: Pauline Kael, the Pauline Kael, liked Karel Zeman's The Fabulous World of Jules Verne. That's a seal of approval. (Ms Kael was second only to Leslie Halliwell in not liking a given film -- it would seem to me at times.)

I visited the Ontario Science Centre again in September of 1984 and noticed the differences right away -- technology.

Time to revisit....

Saturday, September 28, 2019

Baden-Baden Guidebook 1970

Baden-Baden, Germany, is beautiful. It was near that historic town where I spent four years of my childhood and the memories are strong, especially when I look at pictures in this guidebook from the time I was there.

Welcome to Baden-Baden in Der Schwarzwald, and these sample pages:

The photo immediately above is of the Rastatt pool. It is where my swimming skills were fine-tuned by my swim coach mother. The pool complex was, and still is, I'm sure, a great place. (If the kid who stole my Fina swim ring reads this he should feel bad. At least he had the courtesy to replace my new one with his old one.)

The racetrack above is in Iffezheim and it's just a few minutes walk from where I lived. Not only did I see a few horse races at the track, but there was a smashup derby held one night by we Canadians which was a lot of fun. (Cars smashed up, not horses.)


The above piece first appeared as "Baden-Baden, West Germany, Guidebook (circa 1970)" on September 14, 2016.

Friday, September 27, 2019

Film Design: Stone Cones


The above piece first appeared as "My New Sketchbook: Stone Cones (Film Design)" on September 3, 2016.

Thursday, September 26, 2019

Auston Matthews, Toronto Maple Leafs' Charmer

Toronto Maple Leafs star player Auston Matthews has been charged with 'disorderly conduct' by Scottsdale, Arizona, police -- his hometown constabulary force. This all stems from not a puck-drop, but a pants-drop, from last May -- soon after he and his squad were dispatched from any further 2018 - 2019 NHL play.

The 22-year-old sharp-shooter and his friends approached a female security guard who was sitting in her parked cruiser. According to the guard the drunken bunch were bad news.

Mr Matthews walked away from the cruiser, dropped his pants, and grabbed his boxer short butt cheeks. Charming.

It seems the Leafs forward suffered a form of PTSD. Post-Truncated-Season Disorder.

Wednesday, September 25, 2019

Sketching Students' Apartment Mess


The above was first posted on August 24, 2016, as "My Old Sketchbook: Students' Apartment Mess".

Tuesday, September 24, 2019

Canada's Funniest Television Network

My pick for the funniest Canadian television network:

You may think it's Second City Television (SCTV), but the award must go to Sun News Network.

As funny as comedians like John Candy, Andrea Martin, Joe Flaherty, Eugene Levy, Catherine O'Hara, Rick Moranis, and Martin Short could be, they were clearly the inferior act when compared to the inspired lunacy of comedy naturals headlined by Jerry Agar, Adrienne Batra, Ezra Levant, Brian Lilley, David Akin, Krista Erickson, Pat Bolland, and Alex Pierson. The SNN comics could simultaneously do funny and angry, which is not easy to do, never mind pulling it off well.

As fate would have it, the less funny TV network was in business for a much longer duration:

Second City Television (1976 - 1984)
Sun News Network (2011 -2015)

Final thought: Who was the nuttier station headlight? Guy Caballero or Pierre Karl Péladeau.

Monday, September 23, 2019

The Script Doctor Is In

On the weekend I finished reading Andrew Cartmel's non-fiction book Script Doctor: The Inside Story of Doctor Who 1986-1989.

A few weeks ago I reviewed the author's second entry in his "Vinyl Detective" series, The Run-Out Groove.

Soon I will post a review on Script Doctor. It's good news. I’m a fan of the writer's work; fiction and non-fiction. When Mr Cartmel is commissioned to pen the libretto for the inevitable cantata about Cornish seaweed pickers, I’m sure I’ll like that, too.

A Forever Question: Written In

“Since before your sun burned hot in space and before your race was born, I have awaited a question.”

Sir. Why must pens and pencils be pushed to write?

Sunday, September 22, 2019

The Cobbler's Cat Walk (Poem)

The Cobbler's Cat

It's the Cobbler's Cat
for this the
pet's got the
nicest shoes
makin' for the
finest moves

a twist in tail
the 'tude of
a Street Dude
this furry feline
don't get no

that's what's
Cobbler's Cat

Simon St. Laurent


The above poem first appeared as '"The Cobbler's Cat" - Poem' on June 28, 2016.

Saturday, September 21, 2019

It's a Caturday Scratching Post

My posting from yesterday, "A Swinging Cat", spoke of cat-fights and cat-sitters, and cats. While I grew up with both a cat and a dog as family pets, I much prefer the feline due to that type's lower maintenance requirements in addition to its rudimentary affection characteristics. (Notice I did not mention veterinary costs.)

Many years ago I came up with two little and hardly original bits to sum up my admiration for Felis silvestris catus.

* I do not trust any man who doesn't like cats.

* There cannot be a more blissful existence than that of the pet cat of a loving owner.

You were saying?....


The above piece was first posted on March 8, 2016 as "Katzen, Chats, Gatos, γάτες, Catti, Koty, коты, Cathod, Cats...."

Friday, September 20, 2019

The Power of Voting in Canada

On October 21st we Canadians go to the polls. Even though I live in a heavily-Liberal riding (University-Rosedale) I'm still going to make sure I vote that day.

Andrew "Admiral" Scheer is the vacuous and charmless leader of the Conservative Party of Canada.

I have three choices for MP....

The New Democratic Party (Melissa Jean-Baptiste Vajda)
The Green Party of Canada (Tim A. Grant)
The Liberal Party of Canada (Chrystia Freeland)

Thursday, September 19, 2019

Stephen Harper Deconstructed at the Polls

It happened in one night, through a simple vote tally sum six months ago: On October 19th we Canadians held our most recent federal election, and Canada, as a whole, lost its innocence. Millions of its citizens would henceforth have to live with less.

Game day saw Liberal Party of Canada leader Justin Trudeau and his team beat out sitting bull Prime Minister Stephen J. Harper by a substantial margin, forming a majority government in the feat; and putting Harper and his boys out to pasture, if you'll pardon the expression.

What happened to the Conservative Party of Canada's gastric campaign, anyway? It sure looked to me like someone let the air out of the bag.

The 22nd Prime Minister of Canada was aloof and arrogant, and his obsession with control would have booked Henry II into the nearest retirement home. Harper's demise was written, but his own narcissism would not have permitted him even a morsel of reality.

(The Conservatives still managed to win 99 seats out of 338, but my answer to that is they would have won a lot less had the election not happened so "early". That party was sliding down a seaweed-greasy boat launch slipway the week running up to election day.)

The day after the Canadian citizenry "mistakenly" voted for the wrong Party of Canada, I searched online for a video clip of Harper's concession speech. His manner struck me as being less gracious than what is usually expected of a politician who has been fragmented, but the biggest bit I drew from the shattered man was how bitter he looked. My scanners detected a dash of anger. It must not be forgotten that Harper hates "Justin".

There stood an unfortunate soul: A ministerial sad sack in an ill-fitting coat; Scurf of the Conservative Party of Canada.

It spoke:

To kickoff his monotone of defeat, Harper manufactured a mechanical wave for his party's crushed supporters, but through quivering lips he managed moans of voluminous profundity. "And friends, in a dangerous world, we have stood consistently for freedom, democracy and justice. This is the Canada we Conservatives have been building since the time of Sir John A. Macdonald, and this is the Canada to which, for the countless generations to come, we will be dedicated."

It sounds to me like the Conservatives hold the trademark on tenets.

Most profound: "But know this for certain: when the next time comes, this party will offer Canadians a strong and clear alternative based on our Conservative values."

"Conservative values"? (Those again.)

Hey, they ain't mine, pally. Besides, I don't go for spreadin' less margarine on my toast.


The above piece first appeared as "The Deconstruction of the Harper Rights" on April 3, 2016.

Wednesday, September 18, 2019

Rubber Boots

After I posted admissions regarding my lack of activity in the now-shuttered Brunswick House, I remembered an odd, though hardly unexpected, experience from The Madison Avenue Pub. (“The Maddy" is a hot spot for local students, not just those from the University of Toronto, and professors and Annexians alike.)

Years ago, when I was a regular occupant of the Maddy, I witnessed a potentially ugly incident. One night as I was leaving the establishment after soaking down with friends of mine, I heard a provocative discussion happening in real (but a bit blurry) time on the stairway leading from near the main entrance up to the second floor:

"Man! Give him his rubbers back!" Again: "Man, give him his rubbers back." And: "Come on, man!"

Remembering that I was carrying several packets of condoms in my left back pocket I made an offer to the swaying young bloke amongst the three who clearly was operating sans "rubbers". My kindly gesture might give the lad a night to remember.

"Hey. These are yours. They should last you the night." While tossing a "Thanks, Man!" he extended his right arm but inexplicably missed my personal space. I helped by intercepting his hand, a dance much in the way a Soyuz-Progress spacecraft might mate with the International Space Station. The cargo had been delivered. "Contact."

My hope was he would not notice the expiry date; that the alcohol had disconnected any primal urge to check the potentially prize-winning numbers on yellowing packaging.

As I took the two steps down to the main floor, I turned and looked up to my grateful pal: "Have fun....but be careful."

I spun a half-turn toward the opened exit door but a sweeping voice chased me: "What'd'ya mean, be careful?"

I wasn't so inebriated that I could not walk an uncountable pace. That was all I heard. No more "what?". He had probably already forgotten me.

As I walked north on Madison Avenue, a young man – they all seem young after you've punched a third decade in the head – approached with measurable non-precision and puttered a question to my broadside as he wobbled around me.

"Hey, man. Do you got any rubbers?"

"Funny you should ask. Sorry, Sam, I just gave the last of them away. Have a good night."

(I should have gone into business for myself. A tall, skinny, well-dressed, in a Metrosexual way, and sober guy is of the sort that must be equipped with condoms-for-sale. It all makes sense.)

A clarification: The above story is a work of creative fiction based on actual events. Not all details are authentic and certain liberties are taken in order to tell an entertaining story; I hope. ("Reality" drifts to the mundane.)


The above piece was first posted as "Play It Safe Again, Sam" on April 11, 2016.

Tuesday, September 17, 2019

Conservative Attack Ads are Lame (Ineffectual)

A radio advert plays, paid for by the Conservative Party of Canada: "Can you trust Justin Trudeau?"

I sure can.

As a general rule: I sure do.

Monday, September 16, 2019

A Forever Question: Future Plans

“Since before your sun burned hot in space and before your race was born, I have awaited a question.”

Sir. Where exactly are we going?

Sunday, September 15, 2019

Those 10th of 10 Toronto Sun Flags

It happened, mere minutes ago. I was in the midst of my morning newspaper (online) reading when the Toronto Sun stopped me in my tracks:

"You have read your 10th of 10 complimentary articles this month."

It was time to reflect, to think about priorities. Find something constructive and educative to do.


But. I need my "Postmedia". My funnies.

I need that Toronto Sun warped and disturbed view....however warped and disturbed. But not so much that I will "Subscribe now for $0.99". (Don't make me laugh.)

Canada's Tennis Star

Happiness pervades the prairies and many other parts of Canada, this great nation. Canadian tennis star Bianca Andreescu is a star. There is a parade to be held today in her hometown of Mississauga (immediately west of Toronto) in addition to that city naming a street after her ("Andreescu Way").

All this talk got me thinking that Canada has found its own Yuri Gagarin, or Alan Shepard. Bianca Andreescu certainly has risen to great height. Rocketed in the tennis cosmos.

Saturday, September 14, 2019

Re Stanley Kubrick's Fear and Desire

This Kubrick fan had never seen the brilliant filmmaker's first feature film until last evening. Fear and Desire is not bad. And certainly not as bad as Kubrick thought it to be.

While his next feature film, Killer's Kiss, is a big leap up, and establishes the Kubrick we know today, Fear is an attempt to have some smarts along its 61 minutes. Philosophical meanderings from young people, make no mistake, but ideas are already at the core of a philosopher who went on to make Dr. Strangelove and 2001: A Space Odyssey.

The front-and-center score for Fear and Desire was composed by Gerald Fried. I could imagine watching the film upon its release in 1953 and thinking, "this composer is going to go somewhere". (He did just that. And he worked with Kubrick until Paths of Glory. Until his friend decided to go, for the most part, with existing music.)

As I said to a friend this morning, with Fear and Desire I suspect that Stanley Kubrick "got all of his Super-8 films out of the way".


The above article first appeared on September 23, 2017.

The Leafs Blow Money

The Toronto Maple Leafs signed Mitch Marner to a six-year contract worth 10.89 million dollars per year. Leafs fans awaited the news which broke last night after some time of tension.

Even some Leafs fans think that is too much money. This non fan calls that another standard-Leafs-issue “Contract to Nowhere”. (Mr Marner should have moved on.)

Friday, September 13, 2019

The Toronto Maple Leafs Training Camp

This morning Toronto media had some hot news: The Toronto Maple Leafs start their training camp today. I can imagine the program....

1. How to air-out (already dry) hockey equipment.
2. How to pack hockey equipment for long-term storage.
3. How to unpack golf clubs.

Thursday, September 12, 2019

Canadians Are Going to the Polls on October 21st

Last night I saw a story on the CBC National News regarding the problem of getting young people of voting-age engaged in electoral issues. For example: There's an upcoming Federal election here in Canada.

I don't understand why a newly-minted-eighteen-year-old has no interest in casting his or her ballot. "All politicians are crooks" or "It won't make a difference, anyway" are old and too easily dispensed. ("Somebody replied to my comment on Facebook!") Not long after I turned eighteen there was a nice, important election to test my newly-acquired super powers. And I was all too willing to give it a go. I voted for my local Liberal Party of Canada candidate, Ray Ramsay, father of Mike, a school chum of mine, but at the time it was seemingly all for nothing once the final results tallied up. Of course it wasn't all for nothing, and I never thought so then. As I've been prone to say on occasion, "they all add up"; meaning that one vote gets stacked on top of another. The candidate with the highest pile, if you'll pardon the expression, wins.

Progressive Conservative Party of Canada leader Joe Clark won, albeit with a "minority" government, the Federal election that spring of 1979. His reign as Canada's Prime Minister was short lived -- something about a non-confidence motion -- but Mr. Clark's ultimate positioning was engineered by people who got off their opinionated and whiny arses and voted. ("Bloody transit!") For some odd reason there's a polling station conveniently placed near you. We'll run for heart-stopping junk food anytime, and all the time, but we won't walk just once in a while to check off some boxes on a piece of paper. ("Where's the TV remote?! My show's starting!")

The joke here in regards to the paucity of the "young vote" today, of course, is that these chicks have a longer path to travel than do their parents or grandparents. A young man or woman protesting by not voting is nothing but upside-down logic. Forget "protest": Going through life, certainly in this blessed country of ours, in a daze and with almost total political disconnection, is unconscionable given the general state of affairs in the world today. I just look at what's happening with the current "refugee crisis" to appreciate this stable platform called Canada; for some bizarre and unexplainable reason I suddenly become, and stay, inspired and appreciative.

("I'm Dick Smyth.")


The above story was first posted as "I, Young Canadian Non Voter? Not I" on September 12, 2015.

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

Re Matte Painting Concept Painting

Back in late 1988 I designed some concepts for a low budget feature film. A few of these were 'optical matte painting' shots, an attempt by the producers to "open up" the film. Unfortunately, as was often the case with older low budget pictures, the wish to include matte shots was one of the first things to be jettisoned. (Now, of course, for peanuts one can whip up something on a computer.) And forget about hiring a matte artist when you have no money; he or she is of a very specialized craft and charges accordingly.

The film was photographed in black and white, hence my monochrome still photo.

To those Trekkies or Trekkers out there it's pretty obvious I was inspired by Albert Whitlock's paintings for Star Trek, specifically his artwork for the show's second pilot episode, "Where No Man Has Gone Before".


The above piece was originally posted on November 1, 2017.

Monday, September 9, 2019

Re The Creative Writing Class

When I was going to high school, many and still-classified years ago, there was a push afoot to open up the curriculum and introduce programs not just "three Rs". One I took was Mr. Kelly's terrific "Creative Writing" class. It was a challenging but comfortable affair which nurtured the writing soul in me, and the souls of my fellow future Flauberts. ("Floberts? Doesn't he play for the Leafs? If he does he can't be very good.")

At the end of the year Mr. Kelly organized an "Academy Awards" for best writing in various categories. Over the course of a week or so we were to go through our classmates' writing files, which were open for all to see and review, and then make nomination lists. Mr. Kelly showed us an example of the trophy itself, a modified liqueur bottle. ("I want that bottle.")

One day I could hear a group of huddled students laughing and whispering. "This is so funny! He's hilarious!" Once I overheard this I sniffed and went back to my own writing, looking for just the right word.

Days later was Awards Day.

The air was tense with multiple categories.

"The Award for Best Male Humourist goes to....Simon!"

"Who, me?!" (Of course.)

I walked rather self-unconsciously to the front of the class to accept the award. I had been building, cultivating, a reputation for being 'out there', so I thought that since my fellow award winners thus far were self-consciously accepting their well-deserved trophies but not saying anything outside and above of "thanks", I should put my own spin on the festivities:

Once the prize was securely in my hands, I said, half-seriously: "I have no one to was just me."

The class laughed, so too did Mr. Kelly, and immediately I thought, "Gee, I guess I'm not just funny looking".

It was a good class; a good bunch; good times.

Post Script, and "as a comic, in all seriousness", as Bobby Bittman was prone to say: Brian Kelly was one of the outstanding teachers in my years of schooling.


The above article was originally posted on April 14, 2016.

A Forever Question: Noisey Question

“Since before your sun burned hot in space and before your race was born, I have awaited a question.”

Sir. Why does one ask a cacophonous question?

Sunday, September 8, 2019

The Vinyl Detective Post Groove

On Thursday I posted a review of The Vinyl Detective: The Run-Out Groove, an entertaining page-turner of a novel published in 2017 by British writer Andrew Cartmel. The third novel in the series is titled Victory Disc. It was published last year -- I'm slowly catching up to the Vinyl Detective. (I'm onto him.)

Onward to "Victory"!

Post Script: Based on what I've read of the series it occurred to me that The Vinyl Detective would make for a fine made-for-television movie series. It would be relatively cheap to produce since it's not a period piece and the locations would tend to hug the Greater London area.

The "Mississauga Rattler" Struck! (Gold)

On Friday I posted a piece on Canadian tennis star Bianca Andreescu's rise at this year's US Open. Well, the lady has risen. She beat handily superstar Serena Williams.

I popped on the TV news early last evening and saw a horizontal banner at the bottom of the screen: "Bianca Andreescu Wins US Open."


Saturday, September 7, 2019

William and the Bat

"Your bloody cat brought a bat into the house!"

I was bleary eyed, still plenty tired, but I knew what my mother was trying to tell me through my bedroom door.

"My cat" had done something bad, so I wasted no time in waking up to face the challenge of extracting a cute little bat. There it lay, dead, a poor unfortunate victim of a wayward pussy cat, on the floor outside my bedroom. ("A present? For me?! Thanks so much, Willie.")

Training in expired-bat removal was not something I had taken formally, but I knew that in the back room hung the Runkko "Bat Extractor": Two tennis rackets. (Of course I did not use my own lemon-yellow racket.)

The next day my mother explained to all what she had witnessed: "He would run to the top of the stairs with the bat in his mouth. He would then spit it out and bat it with his paw to the bottom of the stairs. Then he would run to the bottom, grab the bat with his teeth, run to the top of the stairs...."

Willie was a nice cat. Great personality.


This story was originally posted as "Cats and Bats" on September 29, 2017.

Friday, September 6, 2019

The Mississauga Rattler

Canadian tennis pro Bianca Andreescu is getting me interested in that sport again. I have not played or seen a match in many years.

The young lady from Mississauga, Ontario, is scheduled to play legend Serena Williams tomorrow afternoon in the US Open final match. It's a rematch, of course. Unfortunately I will not be watching due to a prior commitment. Eagerly, however, I will await the game's outcome.

Thursday, September 5, 2019

The Run-Out Groove Book Review

The Vinyl Detective: The Run-Out Groove, by Andrew Cartmel, Titan Books 2017

Sprinkled with references to the fine art of LP collecting and that format’s reproduction, and driven by a great pop music mystery, The Run-Out Groove, true to long playing record form, starts on the outside and works its way to the centre, entertaining us with its journey of song and the seemingly silent bits in between. The gang from the first Vinyl Detective novel are back: the partner, and partner, Nevada; the opportunistic and lustful Tinkler; the authoritative and somewhat enigmatic Stinky; occasional chauffeur and continual object of someone's unveiled lust, Clean Head; and Turk and Fanny, the unnamed detective's two very real cats. A formidable cast of characters. "Coffee" is back, and in fine form; an object of desire always in ample supply.

Due to my positive reaction to Written in Dead Wax, reviewed here, I made a point to read onward. And I'm glad I did.

Author Andrew Cartmel proves he can tell a story and tell it well. Record collecting and music reproduction techniques are an interest of his, which allows for some fun and informative (and relevant to the tale told) reading.

From the publisher:

His first adventure consisted of the search for a rare record; his second the search for a lost child. Specifically the child of Valerian, lead singer of a great rock band of the 1960s, who hanged herself in mysterious circumstances after the boy’s abduction. Along the way, the Vinyl Detective finds himself marked for death, at the wrong end of a shotgun, and unknowingly dosed with LSD as a prelude to being burned alive. And then there’s the grave robbing…

The book's end revelation (What did happen to the child?) is most satisfactory, but the quality of storytelling here lends credence to the old saying: Half the fun is in getting there.

One of my favourite chapters: it has to do with a tent in an old church graveyard. (I may have heard some Jerry Goldsmith here.)

Like the first book, there is fitting humour:

“He doesn’t have a stomping ground. He doesn’t stomp. In fact, he doesn’t get out much.” Tinkler’s idea of an adventurous evening was smoking dope and sitting in front of his hi-fi. It has to be said, it is a very good hi-fi.

Wednesday, September 4, 2019

Finished Reading The Run-Out Groove (Review Soon)

Last year I reviewed, hereThe Vinyl Detective: Written in Dead Wax, a page-turner from 2016 written by Andrew Cartmel.

Tomorrow I will post a review of the follow up book, The Vinyl Detective: The Run-Out Groove (2017).

From the publisher, Titan Books:

His first adventure consisted of the search for a rare record; his second the search for a lost child. Specifically the child of Valerian, lead singer of a great rock band of the 1960s, who hanged herself in mysterious circumstances after the boy’s abduction. Along the way, the Vinyl Detective finds himself marked for death, at the wrong end of a shotgun, and unknowingly dosed with LSD as a prelude to being burned alive. And then there’s the grave robbing…

A Forever Question: New Conservatism of Canada?

“Since before your sun burned hot in space and before your race was born, I have awaited a question.”

Sir. What happened to the Conservative Party of Canada?

Tuesday, September 3, 2019

Re RCAF Canadair Sabre at CWHM (Hamilton, Ontario)

A beautiful aircraft at the impressive Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum in Hamilton, Ontario.


This post originally appeared on October 24, 2017

A Forever Question: Wisdom? What is Wisdom?

“Since before your sun burned hot in space and before your race was born, I have awaited a question.”

Sir. Do the wise sometimes forgo wisdom?

Monday, September 2, 2019

Roll the Rolled Luggage (My Baggage)

Living near the University of Toronto allows one to tell when the new school year is starting. The population goes up a notch.

What I'm noticing this year, more than any previous one, is the amount of rolling luggage. Yesterday there was a stream of people dragging those mobile storage units.

Which reminded me: When I moved here to go to school I needed a station wagon. Not only did I need to move essential possessions, but there was my hair stylist and personal manager.

The life of a student today is seemingly less complicated, or logistical.

Sunday, September 1, 2019

Flash Flash Fic: "Sorry, It's the Robert Bloch in Me"

Bobby asked nicely: “Are you done?” All according to plan. Worn work boots dangled fresh laces a metre in front of a slab of meat and bone hooked. Bobby smiled with pride at his work. Its bold statement.

A stylish white-haired lady poured tea into an ornate teacup.

“Ma, I’ve always liked your blend of tea.”

The server smiled. “Oh, Bobby, you were always a sweet boy.” The son sipped, self consciously, as his mother continued: “I was a little worried at first; what you did to those poor little creatures when you were just two really worried me.”

Bobby sipped his hot beverage with more assuredness. “You’re right, Ma. I went on to bigger things.”

Mother had to add “Awww, sweet to the last”. She took a sip then looked concerned, hesitating, unsure if she made English Breakfast, Earl Grey, Orange Pekoe, or….something else.