Day 291: Write a love scene from the point of view of your hands


We are explorers in an unknown place. We have delved across fabrics and navigated buttons, danced across lines of lace and satin. From hills to valleys, we search throughout this fair land. Beneath us, the beautiful landscape stretches as we glide across its naked surface, drawing ourselves up and down in spirals of pleasure.

We are the harbingers of wonder and excitement. Our arrival calls forth memories of pleasures gone by as we sail across the skin. We navigate past old scars, take a moment to appreciate them then continue onwards. Our journey takes us all across this surface, this unknown, bringing pleasure anew.

We are firm. As everything moves around us we are firm, gripping and holding tight. We are a constant reminder of the power, the gentleness, the soft caress. We exist only to serve.

All love is from the viewpoint of us.

The Idiot in Tin Foil

Day 290: Ethan Canin said that he wrote “The Accountant” (in the Palace Thief) because he wanted to write a story in which a pair of socks seemed important. Pick an ordinary object. Make it someone’s obsession. Write a story about the obsession.

The figure sneaked through the darkened halls, soft shoes on small feet that danced along the tiles. It stops every now and then, raising its head like a meerkat on the prairie, searching for any indication that the rightful inhabitants, for this place was not its own, were awake.

It continued on its journey, pausing by an open door here, a small cabinet there, constantly searching for something. It was determined, focused on its goal. Whenever a pale shaft of moonlight swept across the floor, the figure would glare towards the offending window before skulking around the patch of light.

It reached a wooden door and stopped. This was what it had been looking for. With the slightest creak, the figure stepped through the door and shook a small bat from its sleeve. “It’s time.” It said, glaring at the cold tableau before it before striking down with the weapon. “She’ll be the only one. And the best.”


“Who, in God’s green earth, cares enough about Barbie to club a collection into oblivion?”

The Idiot in Tin Foil

I know, I know. I’m slacking. But my aim is to be back on track by the year point. I think I can do it. Wish me luck, friends, Romans and countrymen!

Day 282: Write a story in which you are the villain.


“Now remember, children, when the Earthshaker comes…” Mrs Huntsman looked out across her assembled pupils, waiting for their standard chorused response.

“Remember to run!”

“Very good. Now, run along home. I must get back to work.” She saw the class file out, one after the other, all scuttling home to their parents. All except for Jonathan. “Can I help?”

“I don’t believe in the Earthshaker.” He said, flatly. “I think he’s been made up so that we don’t go into the Great White Expanse.”

“My boy, I assure you that he exists. Can you not feel the earth tremble, the winds howl as he moves?” She shuddered. “Please, Jonathan, just go home.”

But Jonathan did not go home. He left her class and wove his way instead to the Great White Expanse. As he looked across the strange, bow-like landscape, he thought he saw something at the bottom of the slope. “I must see what it is.” He said to himself, taking a tentative step forward. Unfortunately, the sides of the Expanse were slippery and he quickly lost his footing, sliding all the way to the bottom. “What is this?” He said, wheeling around to look. He charged at the steep slopes beside him, only to find himself sinking back down.

“Help!” He called out to anyone who would listen, but nobody came here. They were all too afraid of the Earthshaker. “Fine. Since I’m stuck here for a while, I’ll investigate.”

The object he had seen from the top of the slope was a hair, curled around on itself but still almost the size of him. It lay next to a small pool of water. “But this is enclosed!” He cried, running around the hair. “Where has the water come from?”

A deafening noise rolled across the plain. Jonathan’s eyes swiveled up to find a monstrous creature, one hundred times his size if not more, and the earth began to shake. The Earthshaker had arrived. Jonathan called out, but the Earthshaker picked something from the wall with a long and gangling limb, all the while with the great noise crashing through the air. The waters came from the Earthshaker’s weapon, and quickly engulfed Jonathan. He curled his legs up to his body and whispered, “I believe in the Earthshaker.” Then, like that, he was gone.


Andrew placed the showerhead back on the wall, and muttered to himself, “Bloody spiders.”

The Idiot in Tin Foil

Day 241: The last time you cheated


I stared at the gorgeous creature in front of me. Blonde hair cascaded down her back and she wore the war paint of her kind, red lips and nails.
“Do you have it?” She asked, holding out her hand expectantly. She looked almost bored, as of she were waiting for something to happen out of the ordinary.

“Yes, yes. Sorry. It’s just…” I stammered, guilt forming a dam in my throat against the words.

“What, you’re cheating? Please, people do it all the time. Now, do you have the cash or not?”

My hands were shaking as I drew the envelope from my jacket pocket. I knew it was wrong but this… I hadn’t been happy for a while. I had to do this, just to get over this hurdle. “Here. Everything you asked for.”

“Marvellous. Shall we begin?”

Hours later, then we were done. She left me alone to ponder what I’d done, struggling with myself.

It was for the best.

It’s immoral.

It’s necessary.

No it isn’t. It’s an easier path that comes at a price.

What if SHE finds out?

She’ll only do that if you tell her.

This carried on until I fell into a dark and tangled sleep.

When I woke in the morning, however, I felt better than I had in a long time. I felt free, ready to fight. Finally, not unsure. All thanks to one minor moral inconsistency.

Besides, after today I wouldn’t have to sit another maths test. I’ll not need someone to give me the answers again.

That makes it okay, right?

A twist that I hope caught some of you out. I’d like to apologise for any issues with this post, it’s been written using my teeny tiny phone buttons in the car park of a service station. Tomorrow, business as usual.

The Idiot in Tin Foil

Day 228: What you really wanted to say to the customer representative when you called about your broken appliance.

“Pal, if you say the words ‘I understand your frustration’ one more time, I’m going to reach out to wealthy investors, find a backer who will fund an expedition to whatever godforsaken corner of the world you hail from, such that I can personally hunt you down and ram that phone so far up your jacksie that you’ll answer calls by hiccoughing. Now, unless the answer to my next question is “Yes, I’ve now sorted it”, I’d like to suggest that you wave frantically at your line manager and get them to take this call.

There was a long pause. I could hear the hubbub of the call centre on the other end of the line, all the same shouts and the same stock phrases that get trotted out every time you receive a cold call.

“Hello, Mr Woods?”

“Have you fixed my problem, Maninder?”

“No, but…”

“I believe I made the instructions quite clear.Unless you’ve fixed it, get your manager. Now.”

Another long pause, then a young man answered. He sounded like he’d started banking while still in his cot.

“Mr Woods, hi, how are you? My name’s Carmol Pushta. Now, I understand there’s an issue with your account, is that correct?”

“If by issue you mean money disappearing after I told you your product exploded, then yes, there’s a problem.”

“I understand your…”

Short one today. I have lots of ideas that are brewing, but this one is completely stand-alone. 

Any questions, give me a bell!

The Idiot in Tin Foil

Day 224: The smell of a place you love


The air smells clean and fresh here, as if it had never been tainted by mankind’s relentless rampage across the face of this earth. There is a hint of pine mixed with the salt breeze and the ever present smell of freshly baked bread floating from the doorway. It reminds me of my mother, who would bake a loaf a day while my brothers and I were at school. I smile as the scent takes me back.

I stretch in the warm glow of the morning and make my way down to the shore. The rowboat awaits me, small waves lapping against its sides. The fish are invading the clean air in this last bastion of hope, but they serve as a reminder that its okay here. I can live here. We can live here. I board my little rowboat and begin my morning routine.

It’s only a matter of time until the same smells that plague the rest of the world catch up with us but right now, we are safe in our small patch of nothing.

The Idiot in Tin Foil

Day 216: A man giving a speech to a crowd of thousands is suddenly caught in a barefaced lie.


“Ladies and gentlemen, boys, girls, everybody watching at home. I come before you today with a vision made real, a true testament to this nation’s great future!” Owens stood on the stage and beamed out at his captive audience. “Together, we can make this nation what it once was, we can rebuild it from the ground up. Now, I’m not talking with invasions, like some former leaders, looking at you, Polkiss. No, I mean by rebuilding infrastructure, industry. Moving funds from the military and into the cities and towns that make this country what it is!” He pulled his black leather gloves tight against his hands and flexed his fingers, then reached up and adjusted his microphone.

A man dressed head to toe in black crossed to him, handing him a manila folder and leaned in to whisper in his ear. Owens pushed him away and handed him a microphone. “Uh, sir?”

“There will be no secrets in this place. Everybody here today will bear witness to what happens. The building blocks of our new land will be transparency, openness. There will be no secrets and there will be no more blood.”

“Are you sure, sir?” The man in black looked shiftily around. “It, uh, well, it uh…”

“Spit it out, man! The nation is waiting.”

Owens would regret those words. As for the man in black, he’d forever be known as the architect of turmoil and strife. He shook his sandy blonde hair and spoke the words that would be remembered forever, captured on a million video feeds and in a million people’s minds.

“The Goropalli opened fire on the protest in Trinity Square. All of the protesters are dead.”

Dangerous business, peaceful takeover of a nation. Less so when you’re going to turn out to be a tyrannical despot anyway. 

The Idiot in Tin Foil

Day 215: Describe your favourite part of a man’s body using only verbs


Gnashing, grinding,
Chomping and chewing,
Licking, smacking,
Sucking and slurping,
Clicking, clacking,
Clucking and ticking,
Munching, biting,
Grawping and griping.

“Phil, can you please not narrate while I eat? It’s kinda weird.”

“Sorry. Pass the ketchup?”

So, this was definitely one of the more difficult challenges that was cropping up. And at some point I have to do the same for my favourite part of a woman’s body! 

On a different note, I have now completed a third of my challenges! Just 427 days to go!

The Idiot in Tin Foil

Day 212: Why do you like those shoes?

Just a short one today. 


You’ve heard the joke, right? There’s two guys in a wood out hunting and they get attacked by a bear. Now, while they’re running away, one guy stops to do up his shoelaces and the other one says “What are you doing? You’ll never outrun a bear!”

The other guy finishes tying his shoelaces and says “I don’t need to outrun the bear. I just need to outrun you.” Then he runs off, leaving his friend to be eaten by an apex predator.

These shoes keep me ahead of the other guys. They get eaten by the bears and I stay alive. Only in my case, the shoes are a comfortable pair of Converse and the bears are… Well, that’s everything else. Just keep on running and keep ahead, that’s what I always say.

Besides, what looks cooler than this?

The Idiot in Tin Foil


Day 197: “Let’s go, sugarbeet,” he said and snapped on the light. He was holding two duffle bags, one very light, the other very heavy. It was her car, and she had slept with the keys.


Alison winced as the light attacked from the naked bulb. Shark was standing at the foot of the bed, with the two bags in his hands. She hated when he called her sugarbeet. It was her dad’s pet name for her and hearing it from the mouth of this monster in human form felt like sacrilege. She’d slept with the keys in her left hand, taped on so that he couldn’t get to them without waking her up. In her right was her knife, in case he decided to try.

“I said let’s go.” Shark kicked the bed, then turned towards the still open door. He’d just barged into the room, just as he had every night for the past two weeks.

“Just, give me a minute,” she replied. It made Shark pause in the doorway, still facing out into the cold winter’s night. She started peeling the tape from her hand, wincing as it tugged at her scarred skin. “I didn’t sleep very well, I just -”

“You’re not here to sleep. Five minutes, be at the car.” He stomped out into the night. He had the grey duffle bag over his shoulder, visibly bent against the weight of it. The black duffle bag in his left hand, however, didn’t faze him at all. For some reason, whatever was in the black duffle bag scared her far more than the grey one full of the things that clinked and clanked.

Alison sighed as he walked out into the night. She thought about making a run for it, the same as she had every night for the last fortnight. She could make a break for the police station they’d driven past yesterday as they looked for the motel. She could claim a kidnap, or a robbery gone wrong. She grabbed a handful of her flowing red hair, pulling it tight enough that her soft grey eyes began to water. She got herself ready to rip out a chunk, as if she’d escaped an attacker.She began to count in her head, down from three.

But she couldn’t remember which way they’d come in, the fog had fallen thick and fast, taking visibility down to six feet or so. It was like something out of a horror film. Deserted small town and thick fog. Shame that the monster was sat in the car with her instead.

She peeked out of the doorway to the motel’s office. No movement, no lights, no sign of escape. “Come on, sugarbeet! Moonlight’s burning!”

“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.” She muttered, grabbing her knife from the table where she’d discarded it. She took one last look around this newest addition to her motel hall of fame, then shut the door behind her as she walked out into the swirling fog once more. Back to her little Nissan.

Back to Shark.

Just a short one to pique your interest tonight. Posing more questions than answers, that’s for sure. Rest assured, I’m fairly sure that Alison and Shark will be turning up in later shorts. 

Can I just check, how do you spell duffle? I’ve got the prompt saying ‘duffle’, my own knowledge saying ‘duffel’ and the internet saying both. Anybody know for certain?

The Idiot in Tin Foil