Day 9: Facebook status updates from the year 2017

So, an easy one tonight. I mean, this is only next year as opposed to being 6 years in the future like when the book came out. 

Linda Blue

OMG. Amazing party at the White House. President Trump really knows how to kick it! Still can’t believe he won. NYE 2017!

Linda Blue

Happy Valentine’s! Wish I could speak to Ivan. Shame that the communications are down in Russia. Love you sweetpie!

Linda Blue

Mmmm… Who doesn’t love Easter? So much chocolate. I miss the swiss stuff though, why are the borders closed?

Linda Blue

Starbucks with the girlies! Best place to watch all these burly soldiers in the street. Meow!

Linda Blue

I can’t believe I got a place on Capitol Hill to watch the launches! Time to stick it to the Russians!

Linda Blue

This is it. It’s the end of the world. I can’t believe I got swept up in it all. Eight months and he’s ruined it all. It’s over.

Status cannot be sent at this time. Please try again later. 

Status cannot be sent at this time. Please try again later. 

Status cannot be sent at this time. Please try again later. 

The Idiot In Tin Foil

 

Day 8: Why is it true that you are right so much of the time and everyone else gets things so wrong?

This is another tricky one. Living under the existence where actually I am wrong most of the time and everyone else is so right doesn’t give me a lot of experience to go on…

‘You realise that you’re wrong, don’t you?’ I said. I encounter this all the time. Stupid, mindless individuals who don’t even have the capacity to know that they are incorrect. You see, I have a problem. I always know. Literally, I just know. Absolutely everything. Square root of three? No problem. Capital of the fictional country of Artingunay, the lone creation of Walter X. James, author of the Emberglow series? Never had an easier question. The fact is that everything that has ever existed, fictional or otherwise finds a nest inside the tree the planted its roots in my head long ago.

So yes, that is how I am right so often. I know everything. To the most minute detail. Some say it’s a blessing. I mean, I’m great at pub quizzes until there’s the slightest ambiguity in the answer and then I will argue until the quizmaster is blue in the face. I’m actually banned from the Rose and Crown and the Wobbly Blancmange, ever since I told the quizmaster for the two of them that he was wrong about… Well, a lot of things. I’m sure a lot of you reading this are shouting, saying that the Wobbly Blancmange absolutely isn’t the name of a pub. Remember, you’re talking to man who knows literally everything. I can hardly lie if everything I know is the truth?

As you can imagine, this has got me into some trouble before now. Arguing with policemen about the finer points of the law. Arguing with lawyers about the finer points of the law. In fact, arguing with a lot of people… One man told me he was going to punch me so hard I would taste my own lungs. I told him that that was physically impossible.

He punched me, it hurt, but I didn’t taste my own lungs. I have to say, sometimes it’s hard being right. Still, someone’s got to do it. It’s my vocation, my job, my curse…

That is, until I met somebody else who knew everything. That’s when it all changed. The day I met Carter Branton. Carter Branton was my equal in every way. Just under average height, grey eyes, dark hair. The smug smile of a man who knows it all.

I hated him from the very first moment he opened his stupid, fat mouth and said ‘You realise that you’re wrong, don’t you?’

The Idiot In Tin Foil

Day 7: A newly invented product that will change your life.

So, what would change your life? The solution to world hunger? The energy crisis? Or something closer to home? 

‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Richtus Technologies. As I’m sure you are aware, we have been working on something particularly special here over the last decade and today, the fifth of November 2020, you are here to witness the creation of history itself. Literally.’ Cheri Schwartz smiled, teeth gleaming under the spotlights. She could see Daniel Richtus in the crowd, a knowing smirk on his dark face as if he was laughing at some personal joke. In a way, it could be said, he was. ‘We know all about the rumours. We actually have a list of our favourites. Number one. Bioweapons. We at Richtus would like to confirm that we do not condone the use of bioweapons, by this government, by any government or by any individuals that would be cruel enough to weaponise such a thing as disease.’ She paused, partially for dramatic effect, partially at the horrors that flowed through her mind.

‘Come on girl.’ Richtus whispered. ‘Keep going.’ He could feel the crowd worming in their seats, sharing that horror he could see on Cheri’s soft features. He watched her steel herself.

‘Number two on the list was my personal favourite. A birth control pill for men. I am sorry to say that this one is also untrue. We did look into it for a spell, but it wasn’t a viable option at the time. Maybe one day, but it isn’t today’s release. No, today’s release is much bigger than that. Maybe next time, gentlemen.’ She grinned, her blue eyes lighting up.

‘Number three. A cure for AIDs. Unfortunately, while Richtus’ Pharmaceutical division was looking into this, we were beaten to the punch by Rigmatech. However, our announcement today will blow theirs out of the water.’ She could see the Rigmatech personnel whispering to each other, full of speculation. ‘You’ll never guess it gentlemen, so don’t even try.’

Richtus ran his hand through his greying hair. ‘Ok girl, stop dangling them. Time to reel it in.’ His grey eyes sparkled, sunlight shining through storm clouds.

‘Ok ladies and gents, it’s time. I think I’ve strung you along for long enough. Without further ado, I give you SOURCE. SOURCE uses revolutionary tachyon technology to allow you access to… I think the best thing to do is to show you.’ She produced two L-shaped pieces of metal. ‘Alone, each piece of SOURCE is inert. However, when put together, they produce what we call a Tachyon Screen. I have to admit, the science of SOURCE is beyond me and I have a PHD in theoretical physics. That is how cutting edge this technology is.’

Richtus smiled at that. Cheri understood SOURCE perfectly, but she’d chosen to skip over trying to put it in layman’s terms. ‘Simply take the two pieces of SOURCE and drag them out to the chosen window size. Then, using a simple, user friendly piece of software designed by our in house team, we select a date, a time. FOr example, the fifth of november, 2020. Five minutes ago. Then…’

There was a blinding flash from the window. A voice emanated from the screen. ‘Number three, a cure for AIDS. Unfortunately…’ The entire crowd gasped. Cheri entered a command into the computer and the screen snapped shut.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, we here at Richtus have produced a window to the past. Any time, any place. Anywhere. In fact, anywhen. SOURCE. The future, showing us the past.’ The room exploded with applause and flashbulbs from reporters cameras. Richtus stood up with them, moving to the stage. He gave a quick nod to the crowd before briskly moving to the stage door. Cheri could soak up the applause, she was far more attractive than him. His face, with its scarring and burns, a remnant from an earlier SOURCE trial, was far more suited to boardrooms. He’d been a handsome man.

He took his personal SOURCE from his jacket, pulled it out to about a foot square, and dialled up that day. He watched as the Tachyon emitters overloaded, as he pushed Cheri out of the room before the safety door slammed shut. He turned to face the hulking machine, a true early draft, practically just proof of concept. He turned to the one way glass, looking at his reflection as that low hum became a piercing whine before a muffled boom and the shockwave hurled him into the glass.

Daniel reached up to his face, to the dark spot where part of the machine had remained embedded. He’d kept it there, to remind him that accidents happen. He reached out to the screen, and felt his fingers pass through it. Then his arm, before his whole body was rapidly pulled through.

He looked at his younger self, solid and real next to him. His face was bleeding, he was unconscious. ‘Well, this changes things.’

The Idiot In Tin Foil

Day 6: What is the sound of silence and when did you last hear it? What is missing?

Hello Darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again… 

They used to speak to me all the time. Every day, I’d hear them, whispering and wailing at me. ‘Theodore… Theodore… You can do it Theodore. Go on. Just do it.’ From when I woke up to when I went to sleep and sometimes even then… In the darkness and the dreams.

It all started when I was 18. A foot of lead pipe to the temple can really screw you up. I mean, that’s what they say happened, that I was mugged. All I remember is someone in black coming up to me, then I woke up in hospital with 28 stitches circling my skull. I was also missing my wallet and my phone, so I suppose it makes some logical sense that I was mugged. They were kind enough to leave me the £2.13 in change that I had in my pocket. Of course it’s not enough to get me the bus fare home, but it was a kind thought.

Anyway, I got a little off track. So, I’m lying in hospital, I’ve been in a coma for four days, you know the picture. I thought that I’d been hearing my family’s voices throughout, but when I woke up I was told that they’d been trapped by the ash cloud.  That’s when I figured that I’d just been hallucinating all along. They also tell me that I was calling a name.

Erin.

I’ve never met anyone called Erin in my life. So it was odd to say the least.

‘Theodore.’

That’s how it started. My name, repeated again and again like a child saying Dada. There were three voices, all of them distinct. John, Maxwell, Phillipa. We’d have conversations. Phillipa liked to talk about cars. Her favourite was a classic Aston Martin, a proper James Bond car. Maxwell was a scientist. He used to help me with the maths at work. John was just a natterer. He always claimed to have an allotment, which is a really odd pastime for a voice in your head. Hard to imagine a disembodied voice pottering around, tending the carrots and all that.

I figured it was fine for a while. That it would either go away or somebody would understand. The doctors listened at first, then as things progressed they started referring me to some psychiatrists and and then therapists then more doctors… It just went on and on. There were the drugs, then the therapy, then the therapy with drugs, it all just kept building, constantly. Then, on the thirteenth of June 2015, I was called into Doctor Santos’ office.

‘Hello Theodore.’ She smiled at me, bright white teeth paid for on a therapist’s salary. She was pretty, I mean, for an older lady. She had ginger hair, just with slight tinges of grey at the roots. She wore glasses, but they just made her more attractive. ‘There’s a new drug available that we’d like to try you on.’

‘Don’t do it Theo!’ The Voices said in unison.

‘As you know, so far none of our methods have worked. However, this new drug has shown some promising results in similar patients. With your permission, I’d like to start you on a course of Arumin this afternoon.’

I smiled, nervously. I could hear the voices clamouring, screaming at me not to. Begging me. Begging for their lives.

‘I’d like that.’

So we did. I was given two 400mg doses of Arumin at three o’clock. By four, I finally heard it.  No Philippa, No Maxwell. No John and his carrots. Nothing at all.

The blessed sound of silence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Hello Theodore. Sorry for leaving you so long.’

‘Hello Erin.’

The Idiot in Tin Foil

Day 5: Write Ten Sayings for Fortune Cookies

This is actually quite tricky. I’d never actually had a fortune cookie until quite recently, so only really have the stereotypical vision to go on. 

Shame lasts a lifetime, but love is eternal. Don’t eat the fish. Your lucky number is seven. 

When wandering lonely as a cloud, take the time to rain. Your lucky colour is aubergine. Next time you get the urge to just punch someone… DO it. 

Ask her out. Nobody gives a shit about your lucky number. 

No, seriously. Ask her out. Your lucky colour is cowardly yellow. 

Eating a spring roll while walking does not count as exercise. Your lucky colour is Taupe. Is Taupe even a colour?

Everyone saw you steal this fortune cookie. Go back and pay for it. Your lucky colour is blue. And red. And blue. And Red. And Blue. And Red. 

If you’re trying to work out if it’s a number two, it probably is. You don’t care what your lucky number is as you’re already sprinting to the toilet. 

I used to be an adventurer like you, then I took some money from the Triads and now I’m a fortune cookie. Your lucky number is eight hundred thousand, all in unmarked bills. 

When in doubt, go with your gut. It’s been making you make decisions your whole life so probably knows what it’s on about. Your lucky number is digesting. 

This guy bought a fortune cookie and you’ll NEVER believe what happens next. Click here to find out his lucky colour. 

 

‘Hehehe.’ Danika laughed as she typed out the latest batch of fortunes. ‘That should raise some eyebrows.’ She looked at the view from her window, her wide eyes taking in every detail before she blinked once, twice… And hit send.

 

‘In today’s news, millions of fortune cookies are being recalled after non-standard messages, ranging from vaguely humorous to downright malicious, were found in hundreds of thousands. The hacktivists Electric Feel are claiming responsibility….’

The Idiot in Tin Foil

 

 

Day 4: You wake up in an open field wearing an astronaut suit and lying on a surfboard.

Well. My day certainly started interestingly. I woke up in the middle of a field, dressed in nothing but a spacesuit, the taste of blood in my mouth and lying on a rather garishly decorated surfboard. Bearing in mind that I live in the north of England, near Newcastle. It rains all the time. In fact, it snowed in April the other week, just to put it into context.

On the day I woke up in the spacesuit, with blood in my teeth and the surfboard, the sun was shining brightly and I could see lemon trees in the distance. Toto, I am not in Gateshead any more.

And before anyone says it, this isn’t some Hangover situation. I remember everything I was doing the night before. I was in the Rose and Crown with Shaun and Peter, then we went to the Winchester for karaoke night. Carla sang… something. Amazingly, whatever it was. I sang This Love by Maroon Five and I was not good. In fact, I was terrible. But everyone laughed and we had a great time. I mean, I was in bed by ten. Of course, as embarrassing as this is, last time I checked I was in my Superman pajamas playing Assassin’s Creed before closing my eyes.

Then I woke up in my field. In my spacesuit. With my surfboard. I am now claiming it as my own as I’ve been lying on it for at least ten minutes and nobody’s come to claim it.

‘Scusami?’ I groaned as an elderly woman wandered towards me, leaning on a stick as she spoke. ‘Alieno?’ Even me with my non-existent Italian, I knew what she was getting at.

‘No, no. I’m not an Alien.’ I climbed to my feet, slowly. She took a shaky step back, before I finally figured out how to take the damn helmet off. ‘I’m from England.’

‘Eh, practically alieno.’ She grinned, wrinkles tugging at her lips to expose missing teeth. ‘How drunk were you last night?’ She spoke with a heavy accent, words flowing out of her like she was spitting at me. ‘Come to the house. We’ll fix you up. Looks like you were drinking red. We’ll show you real Italian drinking.’

‘I’m in Italy?’ She nodded, frantically with a gleeful smile. ‘Fuck.’

The Idiot in Tin Foil

 

Day 3: Write a bathroom wall limerick

A short one today. Nothing too complex, just a silly little limerick. 

There once was a young man named Drew,

Who couldn’t believe it was true,

That on closer inspection,

Of Drew’s aching rectum,

The poo had split Drew’s arse in two.

I never said these were going to be clever…

With apologies,

The Idiot In Tin Foil

Day Number Two: Write a sex scene you wouldn’t show your mum.

WARNING. THE FOLLOWING IS REALLY RATHER EXPLICIT.

To start with a small aside, I’ve been choosing these randomly by flicking through the book and asking whoever I’m with at the time to say stop. Who should choose this one but of course, my mum. Great fun.

Erica stared down at Charlie.

‘Awww, poor baby. All helpless…’ She ran her perfectly manicured fingernails along his calf, watching as he writhed with anticipation. ‘Do you want me to untie you? Do you want to have your wicked way with me?’ She smiled, licking her lips as he nodded frantically, his eyes running up and down her body. She could see it there, the longing as he stripped her from the thigh high black leather boots, as he released her from the red corset, as he finally got to dominate her in return. She had been teasing for hours now, letting him have glimpses of the future she was creating for them. She had kissed his neck, working her lips down his chest before taking the entire length of him in her mouth. She could feel him getting harder, straining against his bonds as she took him deeper, rolling her tongue around the head of his rock hard cock.

Of course, as much fun as it was for him, she couldn’t let him have it all. She stopped, suddenly, leaving Charlie on the brink of orgasm, gasping through the gag she had fashioned out of one of his ties. She had stepped back, observing her creation, before delicately removing her tiny black thong, the birthday present from Charlie just a few weeks earlier, before carefully straddling his shoulders. She didn’t want to hurt him, of course.

‘Pleasure me.’ She commanded, removing the tie gag.

‘Yes, Mistress.’ He gasped, running his tongue between her legs, tasting her sweetness as he slowly circled her clit. She wrapped her fingers into his brown hair, pulling him into her as she rode the wave towards her first orgasm of the night…

Then she pulled away. ‘Mistress, come back. Come back to me. Let me keep going, please!’ Charlie pined, biting his lip as he continued to fight with the knots that held him in place.

‘Now now, Charlie, you know that I’m in charge here.’ Erica gloated, placing one hand on his chest as she very carefully placed herself so that Charlie’s aching manhood was just resting against her smooth, wet pussy. ‘Do you want to fuck me?’

‘Absolutely. Yes. One hundred percent yes.’

‘Yes, what?’ She questioned as she playfully pinched at his nipple.

‘Yes Mistress. Please Mistress. Dear God, let me have you Mistress.’

‘No Charlie. The only person you’re worshipping tonight is me…’ And with that, she lowered herself onto him, easily taking his full length. She leant forward, drawing her nails up his chest as she did, before kissing him hard on the mouth, tasting herself still on his lips. ‘Have me Charlie. However you want me.’

And with that, she undid the knots.

The Idiot in Tin Foil

Day Number One. Second Marriage.

It’s amazing how long it takes to sink in. For me, it was seventy eight weeks, four days and eight hours until I realised that it wasn’t working. I was in Morrisons, holding a four-pinter of milk when I said it. Aloud. For everyone to hear.

‘I’m so unhappy with my wife.’

Of course for Rachel, it was about eight days. We got back from our honeymoon, a week on the French Riviera. Sun, sea, sex… It was fantastic. Then we got back to Croydon and our two person flat and… Well, everything fell flat. Including Rachel and my best friend. Eight days from spending hours never leaving our bed except for food and the occasional shower, to her and Eddie bonking like rabbits while I went to work.

I work for a marketing company. We literally drive up hype for things that are completely losing momentum. What’s this, a drink that turned out to be mostly chemical? We’ll have people buying it again in weeks. A brand new start-up? We’ll have your name on everybody’s lips within days. Barton’s has made futures, built lives from nothing, we even saved a career! I’m not allowed to say who it was, but their name rhymes with Ronnie Flepp. Even with all of that experience, I couldn’t save my marriage.

Rachel actually came out and told me. Three days after my milk aisle epiphany, she lost it at breakfast. Screamed at me that Eddie was better in bed than I will ever be. That I was worthless. That I would never be any good. And basically, that Eddie was four times the man I would ever be.

I told her that the door was behind her. Very calmly actually. I’m talking book Dumbledore in the Goblet of Fire, not movie Dumbledore here.We all know how that panned out.

Anyway, I think I’ve got myself a little off topic.

Sarah. I take thee to be my lawful wedded wife.

Christ, I really can’t write my own vows.

The Idiot in Tin Foil

642 Things to Write About. A challenge.

I recently decided I would purchase the above book as I keep getting lost in my thoughts and distracted when I try to write. I figure that I would put aside an hour every day to write one of the things in this book.

For those of you that don’t know, this book provides a variety of ideas such as writing about ‘A piece of clothing you keep just for a memory’ or ‘Your favourite recipe.’ This doesn’t have to be focused on real things, it’s simply to get the creative juices flowing.

So why not? 642 days. If the first search result in Google is correct, then I should be finished January 24th 2018. I feel that some life goals should probably take priority but…

I think not.

Kind regards,

The Idiot in Tin Foil

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Books-Things-Write-Francisco-Writers-Grotto/dp/1452105448/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1461266668&sr=8-1&keywords=642+things+to+write+about