stevenjohnstonblog

~ Short stories about anything and everything

stevenjohnstonblog

Monthly Archives: June 2016

The Green Scorpions

29 Wednesday Jun 2016

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

castration, London, vigilante

Deep under the City of London

Way beneath the Underground

Is the Headquarters of a Secret Organisation

Who call Themselves the Green Scorpions

They Live way down there amongst the Ferals and steps

the Outcasts.

The Green Scorpions are an Elite Group

It is a very hard Group to join

You have to have the ability to Live you Life without

Sunlight.

And also be able to Commit some serious Crimes to rid

the Earth of Vermin and garbage of the Human kind.

They call Themselves the Green Scorpions because They

like to strike hard and fast.

Then disappear into the Night

Dragging their Prey with Them.

The Group consists of only Six Members

They are all very different.

But they are all exactly the Same.

Just like the Ferals and the Outcasts

The Six Green Scorpions have also been rejected by Society

Because of attitude problems and Body Modifications

The Six Green Scorpions share a common bond.

They are all Brutal and will never take a backward step

They will never rest until the World is rid of Scum and

Trash

One Person at a Time.

One of the Ferals

Is a young Dreadlocked ex Meth Addict Named Dougal

Dougal is Sixteen and He has been in the System since He

was Ten.

But He has fallen through the cracks.

And He now Resides deep underground

Down in the Dungeons.

But now He is a Man on a Mission

The Green Scorpions and other underground Colony are

Hungry.

So Dougal has to make His way to the Surface

Tonight it is Chinese.

A few Owners of the local Restaurants have taken a shine to

Dougal and the other Ferals

So They provide them with leftover Food and uncollected

Orders.

Dougal arrives at the Alley leading to the Back Door of the Chinese

With him is His trusty Sidekick a large White Rat named Rat.

Then Dougal Hears some muffled Screams behind some Wooden

Pallets.

He sees a Girl being brutally Raped.

Dougal quickly backs off.

And from his Backpack He pulls out a Notebook and a Pen.

And He Writes a short Message.

Then He ties the Note to Rats Tail and sends Him on His way

Rat knows exactly what to do and where to go.

He slips down a Stormwater Drain with a Message for the

Green Scorpions.

The Owner of the Chinese Restaurant comes Outside with

a Shitload of Food.

But Dougal waves Him back and tells him to call for help.

The Two Rapists have finished their dirty deed

They pull up Their Pants Laughing and Giggling

Then They make Their way to the Pub for a Pint or Two.

They don’t acknowledge Dougal as They pass Him.

Dougal slips a Honing Device into each of their Coat Pockets

Then He watches Them go on Their way.

He goes back to the Alley where the Rape Victim is being comforted

by the Restaurant Owner.

The Girl is Traumatised and in Shock.

Dougal can Hear the Police and Ambulance arriving.

So now that He knows that the Girl is in safe hands.

He grabs the Food and heads back down to the Dungeons

The Six Green Scorpions are Cleaning Their Weapons

When Rat arrives with the Message

After Reading the contents of the Note.

A Smile comes to the Face of the Leader of the Green Scorpions

Nick ‘Waxhead’ Knowles.

He is called ‘Waxhead’ because Years ago when He was a Member

of the SAS

A Rebel Soldier in Chechnya Threw a Molotov Cocktail that hit Him

in the Face.

So now His Face looks like a Melted Candle.

Hence the Name ‘Waxhead’

He calls to the Frenchman Pierre to follow Him.

And they head towards the Surface.

Two more Dregs of Society are about to feel a whole lot of Pain.

After about Six Pints Each.

The Two Rapists decide it is time to go Home.

They stop to Light Their Cigarettes.

So They don’t notice Two Pair of Hands reach up through

a Drain.

And Pull Them down.

‘Waxhead and Pierre drag Them through the Sewer Water

Where the Two are covered in Shit and God knows what.

They are dragged all the way down to the Dungeons

And When They get there They Look like They have gone

Ten Rounds with Mike Tyson.

Then the Two are Tied to a Couple of Steel Beams.

Then ‘Waxhead’ steps forward and Announces

;I am The Leader of the Green Scorpions a Group set up

to rid London of Human Garbage

‘I am Your Judge and Jury and I pronounce You both Guilty

as Charged

Your Sentence will be carried out now’

Without another Word ‘Waxhead’  Steps towards the First

Offender.

He grabs hold of the Offending Penis and Testicles

And with a Slice from His Knife the Appendages are

Separated from His Body.

As the Rapist Screams His Vocal Chords  are cut out to keep

Him Quiet.

Then the Wounds in the Groin  and Throat are Sealed with a

Soldering Iron.

The Second Rapist watches in Horror  Then He to is Castrated

and His Vocal Chords are Cut.

And His Wounds are also Sealed

Then after a Week of Convalescing the Two Villians are taken to

the Surface.

And released back to Society.

They are no longer a Harm to Anybody.

They just wander around in a daze.

Forever Haunted by the Sting of the Knife.

And the Sting of the Green Scorpions.

The Six Green Scorpions are Celebrating with a Beer or Two

When Rat Scampers on to the Table.

He has another Note tied to His Tail.

The Job of Fighting Crime never ends.

There is always one more Scumbag to take off the Streets.

THE END

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories, now if you have the means could you please donate so i can realize of dream and become a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

Share this:

  • Share
  • Twitter
  • Facebook

Like this:

Like Loading...

Half A Giraffe

24 Friday Jun 2016

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

adversity, giraffe, triumph

In the Undergrowth beneath a Canopy of Trees

A Female Giraffe is giving Birth.

The Mama Giraffe is Nervous and a bit scared

Predators are always looking for a Meal.

She has been in Labour for a few Hours.

But now Her Baby is here.

With a last Contraction and a final push.

She gives Birth.

When She bends down to clean Her Newborn.

She is taken aback.

She can hardly believe what She is seeing.

She looks over to the Father.

Like it is His fault.

Then She Screams’What the Heck?’

‘My Baby has no Neck’

The Baby Giraffe struggles to His Feet

He looks like a Calf with long Legs

Like a Baby Camel on Stilts

Or a little Foal Standing on Tippy Toe

But it is only a Baby Giraffe.

Well it is but it is only Half.

Mama Giraffe looks down once again at Her

latest addition.

And their Eyes meet.

Mama Giraffes Heart melts.

And She Licks Her Baby Clean.

Even though His Neck is a little on the short side

He is Her own Precious Baby Giraffe.

Even if it is only half.

The Baby Giraffe stands there waiting for His Mama

to give some Milk.

But it is to short to reach the Teat.

He strains to reach again.

Then His Mama squats down.

But still that Milk making pleasure Machine.

Is just a bit out of reach.

Then His Mamas Knees Buckle.

And the Baby half a Giraffe starts to Suckle.

After Drinking His fill.

The Baby half a Giraffe wanders off to explore His World

His Mama is still Splayed out struggling to get to Her Feet

But She finally makes it.

Her Legs feel like They are about to Snap.

Giraffes weren’t designed to bend down like that

She will have to think of another way to Feed Her Offspring

Jesus Her Knees are really starting to Sting.

The Baby half a Giraffe has had enough with Exploring

It is Time for another Taste of His Mamas Milk.

But once again He is having trouble reaching that Milk output

Button.

He Jumps up and down but He still cant make it.

He really could do with a Trampoline.

Because if He keeps Jumping like that He will burst a Spleen.

Mama Giraffe is getting worried.

The Baby half a Giraffe is laying on the Ground.

He hasn’t Drunk any Milk.

He needs to Drink every Two Hours or so.

Or He will start to Dehydrate.

Maybe He can Stand on a Plastic Crate?

Up in the Trees a Monkey has noticed the Mama Giraffes

predicament.

So She Climbs down to offer some assistance.

She goes in between Mamas Hind Legs.

Grabs that Milk Vending Teat.

And takes Aim.

The Baby half a Giraffe is watching the Monkey

So He opens His Mouth.

And the Monkeys aim is true.

The Baby half a Giraffe Swallows every drop that He can

If He Drinks any more He will start to Float like Peter Pan.

With Hs Belly full the Baby half a Giraffe is satisfied.

But He wonders why He cant reach Mamas Milk naturally?

Why cant God make things easy?

And deliver Milk in a Carton.

The Baby half a Giraffe soon falls asleep

He Dreams that He is Tall just like His Mama

What is wrong with His Vertebrate?

Why is it running so late?

The Baby half a Giraffe wakes up with a Stomach Ache

Was there something wrong with the Milk?

Maybe He is Lactose Intolerant?

Maybe it is time to start on Solids?

After all He cant reach His Mamas Milk Dispensing Organ

anyway.

Not without the help from the friendly Monkey.

Mabe the time is right to Eat something Green and Chunky.

But it is still way to early for the Baby half a Giraffe to start

Eating His Greens.

So with the help from the Friendly Monkey He continues to

Drink His Mamas Milk.

With no adverse reaction.

He is Growing Taller and Stronger

But sadly His Neck hasn’t grown any longer.

But He is Taller

So the Baby half a Giraffe reaches up with His Mouth

Maybe His Mama will have a Leakage problem?

And He can catch a few Drops?

SO He reaches and reaches.

And what do You know?

Houston We have Contact.

The Baby half a Giraffe for the first time in His Short Life

Is actually Drinking from His Mamas Milk Offloading

System.

So He Drinks greedily before the Supply runs out.

But after a few Mouthfuls His Mama pulls away.

That would be right.

The first Time that He can Drink for Himself

His Mama cuts off His Supply

He looks to the Sky and Screams.

‘Why Mama why?’

But Mama knows best.

She has wandered off to a Grove of Trees

The Baby half a Giraffe has no choice but to follow

The Time is right for Him to start Eating Leaves Twigs

and Branches.

All of that Body Building Green Stuff

But God it is mighty tough

He watches as His Mama Eats

And He tries to follow Her Lead.

But the same old problem occurs

His Legs might have Grown

But His Legs sure as Shit hasn’t.

Those Leaves are just out of his reach

If the Baby half a Giraffe had a Neck

He would Hang it in shame

Everything changes

But some things stay the same.

Just then a Old Grey Tortoise comes to Rest under the

Baby half a Giraffes Feet.

The Tortoise Squats down.

And Gingerly the Baby half a Giraffe Steps up onto its

Shell.

Then the Old Grey Tortoise Elevates Itself

And the Baby half a Giraffe starts to Chew on a Leaf for

the first Time in His Life.

Then He Eats another and another

And pretty soon He has Eaten His fill

On Wobbly Legs He Steps back down to the Ground

God He can barely move.

He must of put on Twenty Pound.

The Baby half a Giraffe continues to put on Weight

And He grows Taller Everyday

But His Neck still hasn’t grown one inch

Where His Shoulders end

His Head begins.

There is nothing in between

How can Mother Nature be so Mean?

The Baby half a Giraffe is feeling down in the Dumps

He isn’t paying attention to His Mama

So He doesn’t Hear Her Cry of Alarm

But then He feels a intense Pain in His Throat

He is being dragged up a Tree by a Big Cat with Spots

A Female Leopard for sure.

The Baby half a Giraffe cant Breathe

He cant take much more.

Both His Body and Legs are hanging over the side of the

Branch.

The pressure on His Throat is intense

Then CLICK CLICK  CLICK

He can feel Himself Stretching

His Vertebrate has Clicked into place

‘W hat the heck I have a Neck’

Then His Feet touch the Ground.

And He starts to Run.

And He pulls that Leopard clean out of the Tree

And luckily He Runs straight to His Mama and the rest

of the Herd.

The Leopard Snarls then disappears into the Scrub.

While Mama Giraffe Hugs Her Fully Grown Bub.

With His new Neck.

The Baby Giraffe feels Twenty Feet Tall

He only has a few Scars from His brush with Death

He bounces up and down with a new zest for Life

Is He Tall enough to find Himself a Wife?

He Runs around without a care in the World

He can finally reach even the highest of Branches

And His Mama has finally given Him a Name.

STRETCH.

THE END

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories, now if you have the means could you please donate so i can realize my dream of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

Share this:

  • Share
  • Twitter
  • Facebook

Like this:

Like Loading...

Mutant Moth (Part Two )

19 Sunday Jun 2016

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

moths, mutants, urine

In Part One I told you all about the Mutant Moths

that had invaded My Pantry.

And how they had become stuck on the Glue surface

of a Pantry Moth Trap.

Where they Died and started to Rot.

But then they all come back from the Dead

They escaped from the Moth Bait.

Leaving behind Legs Wings and in some cases a Head.

Then they went Underground

Only to re-emerge Three Months later.

They had discovered My Housemates Muscle Building

Protein Powders.

Then they started to grow and grow.

These Moths are now Mutant Moths

All of them are missing Body Parts

Some have grown to the size of a Small Bird

While others have grown to the size of a Small Dog

One of the Dog sized Mutant Moths was Flying around

My House.

Then it Dive Bombed Me shattering My Left Hip.

Now I am laying in agony on My Living Room Floor

My Hip Bone has broken through the Skin.

And it is sticking out like a Lamb Shank

Then the Mutant Moth Flies lower and lower covering Me

in Gossamer Threads.

Then it sticks Me with Its Probiscus

Now I am shrouded in a Giant Cocoon.

Part Two

I know that I need to escape from this Gossamer Prison

Before I run out of Oxygen.

Plus I really need to Pee.

I wont be able to hold it much longer

But I don’t want to do it in this Confined Space

I might Drown in My Own Urine.

And I haven’t exactly got a Snorkel at Hand

My Gossamer Cocoon Hell Hole is transparent

I can see the shadows of the giant Mutant Moths

as they Fly around My House.

Them One of them lands on Me and starts to prod Me

with its Feeding Tube.

I have been struck before by that thing

And I didn’t like the Feeling

I avoid it in the best way that I can

Then I feel something running down My Leg.

I cant believe it.

I have Pissed Myself.

The Smell of My Urine is driving the Mutant Moths Crazy

It Stabs and Stabs with its Probiscus

Like it is in a Feeding Frenzy

What a way to go.

Stabbed to Death by a Killer Giant Mutant Moth.

I need to escape from this Cocoon Pronto

So I slide over a few Inches and start to use My Broken

Hip Bone like a Saw.

The Pain is excruciating  but I try to block it out

I act like a Human Black n Decker

I Cut open a Two Foot long Slit.

Then I start to Crawl out.

Then Two of those Mutant Moths land on My Hip

And again I am Stabbed by their Feeding Parts

Immediately My Left Leg goes Numb.

Which is good.

Because now I am Pain Free.

I just hope that I don’t become their next Meal.

My House is now full with Morphine Injecting Urine

loving giant Mutant Moths.

But at least I am Mobile again.

That Numbing Agent that they Injected Me with

Is really doing a great Job.

I just hope that My Insides don’t turn to Jelly

Otherwise the Mutant Moths will enjoy a Hearty liquid

Meal of Human Soup.

Two Mutant Moths are Sitting on My Groin sucking up

the wet patch.

Jesus this is Gross.

I grab hold of those Two Motherfuckers

And I rip their Wings off.

But they just unfold a spare set

And take off Outside.

The Walls in My House has about Fifty large Holes

Where the Mutant Moths have Punched through

The Sunlight starts to stream in

And I can see My Neighbours House.

The Mutant Moths are Flying all over the Neighbourhood.

People are Running around Yelling and Screaming

Trying to avoid a Mutant Moth Aerial Attack.

Then an Idea starts to form in My Head

I remember that the House Three Doors down has a large

in-ground Swimming Pool.

I Yell out as Loud as I can.

I tell My Neighbours to gather as many People as they can.

Then run to the Jackson’s Place.

I Race down there.

And there are already Ten People Milling about.

Confusion and fear written all over their Faces.

As best as I can I explain about the Mutant Moths and their

Taste for Human Urine.

So the Guys get their Junk out and start Pissing away

The Girls are more discreet.

They go behind a Tree and Pee into  bucket.

Then empty the contents into the Pool.

Soon there are more than a Hundred People Pissing into

that Pool.

I just hope that the Urine wont be to Diluted by the Water

in the Pool.

Or the Mutant Moths might not be Attracted.

But I was worrying about nothing.

The Mutant Moths land in the Pool like they are Kamikaze

They just cant help themselves.

And in less than Ten Minutes all of the Mutant Moths are

Swimming in the Pool.

The only thing missing is the Pina Coladas

Seventy Five Guys are still Pissing in the Pool

I am surprised that the Mutant Moths aren’t Wearing Shower

Caps.

They are enjoying it that much.

But soon they are overwhelmed by the Yellow Stream

And One by One the Mutant Moths start to Sink and Drown.

Mt Jackson brings over the Pool Cover.

And we Cover that Mutant Moth filled Pool

The Mutant Moths are Sealed inside their Burial Tomb.

The Mutant Moths have been Defeated.

Defeated by an Act of Nature.

Right at the Eleventh Hour.

It just goes to show that You can never under estimate

the Power.

Of the Golden Shower.

A couple of Hours later after all of the Humans have departed

A ripping Sound comes from the Pool.

And a Wet Mutant Moths pokes its Head out

So there will have to be a Part Three.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories, now could you please donate so i can realize my dream and become a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

Share this:

  • Share
  • Twitter
  • Facebook

Like this:

Like Loading...

Frank and Stein

17 Friday Jun 2016

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

albino, cold case, hollywood, murder

Detectives Frank Pullen and Michael Stein are Cold Case

Detectives.

They are looking for any sort of Clue that might of been

missed.

Any thread of Evidence that will bring Closure.

So that the Families of the Missing and Murdered can

find some Peace.

And have some Remains to Bury with Dignity.

And before You say anything

They have both heard all of the Jokes about Their Names

How when You put them together You create a Monster.

You have to have a sense of Humour when You are dealing with

sadness and misery.

Anything to solve a Case.

One Cold Case in particular has Them perplexed.

It is so Cold it is almost frozen.

It concerns the Murder of Ten Young Females back in 1999

On January 9 of that Year 18 year old Jane Sinclair  was found

Murdered up in the Hollywood Hills.

Four Inch Nails had been driven  through Her Wrists and Ankles

Pinning Her to the Ground.

She had been Stabbed a total of Forty Seven times.

A long Blonde Wig had been placed on Her Head.

And the Words ‘The Albino’ was cut into Her Abdomen

Plus She had been Raped brutally

Then on the Ninth of every Month a new Victim was found

up in the Hills.

With the same M.O The Four inch Nails the Blonde Wig the

Words ‘The Albino’

cut into her Stomach plus She was also brutally Raped.

The last known Victim was Named Sandra Jones Aged just

Nineteen

She was found on the 9th of October 1999.

Once again up in the Hollywood Hills.

Even though the Hollywood area was swamped with Police

on the Ninth of each Month.

‘The Albino’ Killer was never Apprehended.

No Evidence of any sort was ever found

No DNA Tyre Prints Semen nothing not even a lousy Finger print.

It was like the ‘Albino’ was a Ghost.

So for Seventeen Years the ‘Hollywood Hills’File has been

gathering Dust.

On the Cold Case Shelf.

Despite all the Years of Investigating by the Los Angeles

Homicide Division.

No Suspect was ever Interviewed.

But now after all of this Time

The Case is to be Re-investigated by Two of the best Cold Case

Detectives in California

Det Frank Pullen and Det Michael Stein.

Frank and Stein.

The first thing that they do is visit the Crime Scene

As they have a look around they find it hard to believe that ‘The Albino’

Committed all of these grisly Murders

And yet Nobody saw a thing

Tourists flock to the ‘Hollywood’ sign all Year round

Yet No One has ever come forward.

Could it be that these Murders was committed by one of their own?

Back at the Precinct Frank and Stein are pouring over the Crime scene

Photos

For about the Hundredth time.

All of the Victims have been Bled out.

With the Transluscent Skin and the Blonde Wig.

They all kind of look like Albinos

Is the Killer metaphorically Killing Himself?

Is the Killer an Albino?

As Frank and Stein go over the Old File

Frank thinks that it could be a Fellow Police Officer

While Stein thinks that it is a Local that knows the area

so well that He just blends in unnoticed

But as they argue back and forth

They both notice that the Crime Scenes share another

thing in common.

The Medical Examiner at every scene was Dr William Campbell

Frank and Stein have worked with Dr Campbell on many occasions

And He was always the complete Professional.

He did everything by the Book.

But He was also very arrogant and standoffish

They haven’t worked with Dr Campbell in a long time

Maybe He has Retired?

Frank calls the M.E Office and asks to Speak to Dr Campbell

And He is surprised when His call is put through

So Dr Campbell hasn’t Retired

Why haven’t they seen Him at any Crime Scenes?

When Dr Campbell answers Frank informs Him that He and Stein

have re-opened the ‘Hollywood Hills’ case from 1999.

Frank asks the Doctor what can He remember about the Case

And Dr Campbell says that He cant remember the Case clearly

But He will look at the Old Case File and call back in a Day or Two

When He arrives Home Dr Campbell is fuming.

After Seventeen Years He thought that He had got away with

committing Ten Murders.

Now that Frank and Stein are on the Case.

He knows that it is only a matter of time before they crack the Case

wide open.

Dr Campbell looks out of His Living Room Window.

The ‘Hollywood’ Sign is only 500 Yards away.

He has donned a long Blonde Wig

He is Naked except for a Pair of White Socks.

When You look around the Living Room everything is White

The Walls the Ceiling The Furniture The Carpet.

Everything is stark White.

Even the Television and Sound System are hidden behind a White

Cabinet.

He Sits on a White Leather Lounge with a Whiskey.

And He Strokes Himself as He thinks back to when He was Eighteen

That is when He was Diagnosed with a rare Blood Disorder.

That left Him extremely weak and pale.

People started to call Him the ‘Albino’

Everybody feel sorry for Him

He was the centre of attention.

All of the Girls liked to play with His Blonde Wig

And a whole lot more.

But Six Months later.

After a succession of Blood Transfusions.

He was Cured and Disease free.

He was no longer the centre of attention

The Girls no longer came around

He was now just plain William Campbell.

No One would give Him the time of Day

Why couldn’t He stay an ‘Albino’?

He knows that Frank and Stein will never give up until

the Case is solved.

And He cant let that happen

So Frank and Stein will have to be taken out

Gunned down in the Line of Duty?

Or Killed in a Police Pursuit?

After one last Whiskey He Retires to Bed

But He knows that He wont Sleep

Frank and Stein are at the Precinct first thing in the Morning

They have been searching on the Net for any Albinos that Lived

in the L A area back in 1999

And there were only Three.

But all of them were way to Young at the Time.

So they are ruled out as Suspects

But with some further digging they come across an Article in the

Los Angeles Chronicle on the 10th June 1999

The Story is about a Youngster Named William Campbell

Who has received Life saving Blood Transfusions.

A Photo Beneath shows William Campbell the ‘Albino’

in Hospital

Well well well

So Dr Campbell was once Nick Named the ‘Albino’

Why has He never mentioned this in Seventeen Years?

Time to pay the Good Doctor a visit

So they jump into a Squad Car and they race towards the

Doctors Home up in the Hills.

But as they get close to the Doctors House they are rammed from

behind by a large Sedan

And in the Rear view Mirror Stein can see a Person wearing a Blonde

Wig

Trying to push them off the Road

Frank slams on the Brakes and the Maniac swerves to avoid a Collision

And Drives right through a Guard Rail

And down a fifty foot Embankment.

His Car becomes airborne and hits the ‘H’ of the Hollywood Sign.

The ‘Albino’ starts to climb out of the Car

When it bursts into Flames

And He is Incinerated in the Metal Coffin

And He is Cremated at the same time

The ‘Hollywood Hills’ Cold Case is officially closed.

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories, now could you please think about making a donation so i can finally realize my dream and become a fulltime writer. Thaks again Steven.

Share this:

  • Share
  • Twitter
  • Facebook

Like this:

Like Loading...

The Scrapheap

12 Sunday Jun 2016

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

fear of the unknown, greed, redundant, unemployed, workmates

A Couple of Dark Demons visited Work the other Day.

And They called an Extraordinary Meeting.

All of Us Minions gathered around Dressed in Our Whites

No one knew what was happening.

But We could all feel a Dark Force.

The Dark Demons didn’t have any Good News.

It was all Bad of course.

 

They talked about how they were Investing Hundreds of

Millions on their other Factories.

In a couple of different States.

But they had no Money to spare at our little Work place

And He said it with a Smile on His Face.

So Our Factory is closing down.

 

Even though I am Dressed in White.

I am feeling kind of Grey.

Soon I will be out of a Job.

I will have to borrow off Uncle Peter to pay Uncle Bob.

 

After the Meeting the Dark Demons Ride off on Their Black

Steeds.

While Us Minions go back to Work.

Everyone is wandering around like the Living Dead.

Back at our Work Stations Everybody is Talking at once

Did that just happen?

Are We all now almost Unemployed?

 

We are now nothing more than a Collection of Bones Blood

and Bruises.

We have done nothing wrong.

So why do we all feel like Losers?

 

Arriving Home I still feeling Numb

Then it hits Me that not only am I out of Job

But I will probably not see most of My Workmates ever again.

Except Reading their Posts on Facebook.

 

It Feels like the Dark Demon has reached in out pulled

out My Heart and Soul.

I wont to Scream out to Them

I am a Human Being

Not a Fucking Lump of Coal

 

I go to Bed but I can not Sleep

The Dark Moon above starts to creep.

It feels like I am Drowning

I am in way to Deep.

I want to climb the Mountain

But Fuck it is Steep

 

But then I realise that there is a whole new World

out there

Will I open My Eyes and take a Peep?

Or will I keep them closed

And end up on the Scrapheap?

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories, now if you have the means could you please make a donation so i can finally realize my dream and become a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

Share this:

  • Share
  • Twitter
  • Facebook

Like this:

Like Loading...

A Very Droll Troll

10 Friday Jun 2016

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

dodo, gold, greed, trolls, unicorns

The Year is 1643 in the City of Budapest Hungary

And on the edge of the City is a small Stone Bridge.

And under that Bridge Lives a very droll Troll.

He is Armed with a Razor sharp Rapier.

And an even sharper Tongue.

The Troll has been the Guardian of this Bridge for over

Three Hundred Years.

He is Old but forever Young.

So if You Walk over or Travel under this Stone Bridge.

You will have to pay a Toll.

To Karel the very droll Troll.

No Cheques please strictly Cash Money.

Hungarian Florits preferably.

And Gold Coins are acceptable.

Just Deposit them in the handy little Receptacle.

That being Karels little Leather Pouch.

Of Karel will pass on any Toll Collected to the King.

Minus a small collection Fee.

Karel the very droll Troll isn’t Greedy.

He is just very very Needy

Karel sits under that little Stone Bridge.

Waiting for a Traveller to pass.

Sharpening His Rapier and His sarcastic Wit.

He doesn’t care if He has to use a Weapon.

Or His smooth talking Mouth.

He will Collect the Toll by Sword or Voice.

And the Travellers will soon realise that they haven’t

got any choice.

Then Karel Hears the sound of sneaking Feet.

The sound of a Toll evader.

‘Hail! Who goes there?’

He yells from His comfortable Toll Booth.

Then He notices a Dodo Bird trying to sneak under the Bridge.

;Please I am desperate’

‘Haven’t you heard that Dodo’s are almost Extinct’

‘I have to rush to find a Mate ‘

‘Before it is too late’

Well Karel the very droll Troll couldn’t care less if this was

the last Dodo on Earth.

A Toll will be Collected.

And even though Karel is only Three Feet Tall.

He is built like a Komodo Dragon on Two Feet.

An ugly little Fucker.

He will collect the Toll at any cost.

The Dodo hangs Her Head.

She knows when She has lost.

With a Squawk She hands over a single Florit

To the creepy little Toll Collector

Before She is Plucked and Roasted in His Oven

By the look of Him.

He would really enjoy chewing on a Parsons Nose.

She rushes off on Her fruitless search for a Mate.

Because it really is way way too late.

Before Karel can even sit down

He can Hear Hooves approaching the Bridge above

So He rushes up to Collect the Toll

And through a Cloud of Dust

He can see a lone White Horse.

But when it gets closer He sees that it isn’t a Horse.

But a Mythical Unicorn.

He holds up His Hand to get it to stop.

Just like a Toll Collecting Cop

The Unicorn skids to a stop Thinking

‘How can this Toll Collector se Me’

‘I don’t even exist’

‘I  am just the figment of Someones Imagination’

‘You can Read all about Me in Childrens Books’

Karel the very droll Troll knows what the Unicorn is

thinking

But He can see Him just fine so He must exist

So He holds out His Hand to Collect what is Due

But the Unicorn is not forthcoming.

So Karel waves His Razor sharp Rapier in the Air

He lunges forward and nicks the Unicorns Nose

And from the other end of the Unicorn

A Fart Bellows and Blows.

The Unicorn still cant believe all this is happening

After all He is a Mythical Beast

He lifts His Tail and drops a foul smelling Deposit

But seeing that He is a Unicorn.

The Shit turns into a Bagful of Gold.

Enough Gold to keep Karel in the Hog for Life

Maybe He can even Retire?

The Unicorn is running late

So He Snorts and shakes His Head in annoyance

It is Time for Him to Bail

He is on his way to another Fairy Tale.

Karel the very droll Troll cant believe His Luck

He drags the Bagful of Gold back to His Booth

Puts His Feet up and Lights up a Smoke

Maybe He has time for a Snooze?

Or if He is really lucky He will find Himself a Female

Troll.

And have a roll in the Hay

But the Unicorn from Five Miles away

Shakes His Head Neigh/Nay

Karel the very droll Troll

Cant take His Eyes rom the Bagful of Gold

But He cant become complacent

He still has a Job to do.

Just then a Travelling Band of Gypsy’s approach the Toll

Booth under that small Stone Bridge.

Karel starts to stand up but He really couldn’t be bothered

He has a Bagful of Gold

Who needs a few Florits?

So He waves them through

Over the following Days and Weeks Karel doesn’t Collect a

single Florit.

He hasn’t moved from His Chair.

He just cant take His Eyes from that Bagful of Gold

He just spends His Time Snoozing and Boozing

And thinking about Trolls of the Female variety

Karel knows that He isn’t the best looking Troll in the

Neighbourhood.

Still He cant take His Eyes from that Bagful of Gold

That Gold has really taken a Stranglehold

Word soon gets back to the King

One of His Toll Collectors isn’t doing His Job

He is allowing Travellers to pass through without Paying

Well that is not on

So He Orders  a Battalion of His Soldiers to Arrest Toll Collector#56

Dead or Alive He doesn’t care.

If Karel knew what was coming His way

He would be filling His Underwear

Karel the very droll Troll

Is just sitting around minding His own Business

When He Hears the Sound of Trumpets

‘Holy Crap the Kings Men are on their way’

He knows that He has been neglecting His Duties

All He can do is cover the Bagful of Gold with a Blanket

Then He awaits His Fate

I guess Retirement can wait

Arriving at the Kings Castle Karel is as Nervous as a Kitten

The King looks to be in a very bad Mood

The King adjusts His Crown and gets to His Feet

He looks at Karel like He is a piece of Crap on His Slipper

‘I King Claudius of Budapest Sentence You Toll Collector #56

to be Executed by way of the Guillotine’

;Your Head and Body will be Interred separately so that You will

never rest in peace’

‘Take Him away’

Another Troll arrives at Karel’s old Toll Booth

It is His Replacement Toll Collector #57

He saw Karel’s Head hit the Ground in a Fountain of Blood

So He will never neglect His Duty

He enters the Booth and is hit with an God almighty Smell

He lifts the Blanket laying in the Corner.

And sees a Bagful of Smelly Shit.

Well what did You expect?

Gold?

How could there be Gold?

Unicorns don’t exist

Or do They?

THE END

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories, now if you could please make a donation so i can reach of goal of becoming a fulltime writer. Thanks again Steven.

Share this:

  • Share
  • Twitter
  • Facebook

Like this:

Like Loading...

Pistol Packing Nun

03 Friday Jun 2016

Posted by stevenjohnno in poems, stories, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

kindness, love, nun.hope, pistol, thieves

Sister Carmel is a Twenty Eight Year old  Catholic Nun

And since taking Her Vows back in 2008

She has served Her Church and Community  with dignity

and Compassion.

Everwhere She goes She gives Her Rosary a gentle rub

And She says a little Prayer.

But Sister Carmel is very Nervous

Her Eyes are going everywhere.

Last Week She was accosted and threatened by a group

of Thugs.

While She was out and about helping the Needy.

She still cant believe that it happened.

She is a Catholic Nun.

She doesn’t carry anything of any Value.

One of the Thugs pulled out a Knife.

And threatened Sister Carmels Life.

But then the Thugs all have a laugh and go on their way.

But they cant resist a parting gesture.

The One with the Knife gives Sister Carmel a nasty little Cut

And Blood starts flowing down her cheek.

The Thugs took off Hi Fiving with a Foul Mouth Banter.

Sister Carmel runs in the opposite direction in a Habit

flowing Canter.

Sister Carmels Knees are knocking when She arrives back

at the Church.

She knows that She knows that She is in need of protection.

Maybe a Bodyguard.

Like in that Movie with Whitney Houston.

But She knows that She cant afford that.

She needs something cheap and handy.

So She will get Herself a Gun.

And become a Pistol Packing Nun.

So a few Days later She slips out of Church.

Wearing plain Street Clothes.

No One will ever know that She is a Nun.

With a $100 that Her Mother sent Her.

She hopes to Buy a Compact Pistol.

So She can feel Safe and Sound.

In fact Sister Carmel is no Stranger to Guns

Back on the Farm in Montana She was something of an Annie

Oakley.

She can hit a Target from Fifty Yards.

And a Deer from even further.

But now living in New York City

There is only One question.

Luger Glock or a Smith&Wesson?

It doesn’t take Her long to find a sleaze bag

Having a Car Boot Sale.

He isn’t Selling Plants Pots and Pans or Stereo Equipment

He is Selling Tasers Guns and He even has a small Rocket

Launcher.

Plus a fine selection of Knives.

Sister Carmel is feeling like a Cat with Nine Lives.

For $75 She buys Herself a Pocket sized Smith & Wesson

Plus a free box of Ammunition.

She feels a whole lot safer walking the Streets with a Gun

Now She is a Pistol packing Soul destroying Nun.

An it is just as well.

Because on Her way back to the Church

She stops at a Convenience Store to buy some Milk and a Twinkie

As She walks the Aisles She Hears a commotion at the Store Front.

Maybe it is just a harmless little Fight.

Or a Kid with a Water Pistol having some Fun.

Well whoever it is should know better.

Because there is nothing more dangerous than a Pistol packing Nun

Obviously they don’t.

Because a Scream rings out from the front.

Sister Carmel rushes to the Shop Assistants Aid.

Where She is confronted by a Smackhead with a Rolling Pin

The Smackhead is in a rage and a Heart full of Sin.

She is either off Her Face.

Or She is looking for some Pastry to roll out.

Off Her Face is more likely.

So Sister Carmel proceeds with caution.

You can only take Smackheads in small portions

Sister Carmel arrives quietly and unannounced

With Her Smith % Wesson at the ready.

She feels like a Paratrooper drifting in unnoticed

Sister Carmel is ready for the fight.

This is turning into a very strange Night

She aims at the Rolling Pin

And Bullseye it flies from the Smackheads grasp

She turns around to see smoke coming from the Barrel of a Gun

Then She leaves empty handed straight out the Front Door

You want see that Smackhead around here no more.

Then Sister Carmel disappears into the Night.

She cant afford to get caught up in a Police Investigation.

No innocent bystanders were Hurt

And that is all that matters.

All She wants to do is get back to the Church

And say Prayer for all of the Drug Addicts in the World.

May They get help and become Drug free.

They just have to open their Eyes and See

Back at the Church Sister Carmel has changed back into

Her Nuns Habit.

She has her Duties to perform.

She to see if the Pews are nice and clean

That all of the Candles are lit in readiness for Midnight Mass

As She goes about Her Tasks.

She can feel the Weight of the Pistol in Her Pocket.

She hopes that none of the Congregation notice the bulge.

Mass went off without a Hitch

lot of Money was put into the Collection Plate.

And Father Ybanez seems to be Happy with the turn out.

All in all it has been a good Night

So Sister Carmel retires to Her Room for a Cup of Tea.

Peace and quiet in Her own company.

A short while later a Sound emanates from the Church

Bringing Her back from Her reverie

A quick glance at the Clock that it is 2am

Father Ybanez should have retired to His Room next door

So who is in the Church trying to be quiet?

This is turning into a not so silent night.

Sister Carmel enters the Church Vestibule

And She is confronted by Two Thieves Stealing the Candlelbra

and Artifacts

If only they knew that everything is non genuine

All of the original Gold and Silver was stolen Years ago.

Then Sister Carmel if brought down with a heavy blow

She is dragged into a corner and tied to a Chair.

But Her Hands are left untied.

She sits there watching the Two Thieves

As they fill their Duffel Bags with the Church Property

Then She reaches for Her trusty Smith % Wesson

She could Shoot them now and they wouldn’t know what

hit them

They have Her tied to a Chair

So why don’t these Two fools make good their escape?

Surly they aren’t Thinking Murder and Rape/

Then She has a second look

And She notices that the Two Thieves are wearing Rags for

Clothes.

And they are grimy and dirty

Like they haven’t washed in over a Year.

Sister Carmels Eyes shed a sad single Tear

Then She remembers that She is a Nun

She is on is Earth to serve God

And to help People in Need

So She starts to Talk and talk and talk and talk and talk

The Two Thieves Robert and Kelvin Jones are thinking

‘W should have brought along some Duct Tape and Ear

Muffs’

‘Will She ever Shut up?’

Robert and Kelvin are 25 and 23 respectively.

But they look at least 45

Years of Alcohol abuse and living on the Streets .

Has taken a heavy toll.

Now lets see if they still have a Soul?

Sister Carmel is still Talking

And Robert and Kelvin have stopped their thievery

And have started to listen

Sister Carmel is telling them about the Church’s Soup

Kitchen.

Where they can get a decent Meal

Then She tells them about a Hostel

Where they can Sleep in a warm Bed with clean Sheets

Have a Bath and wear some clean Clothes.

And to get off the Alcohol and Drugs

They will have to go to Rehab

‘W ill She ever stop Talking? Someone please call Me a Cab’

But all of Sister Carmels words have sunk in

Because Robert and Kelvin both now walk the righteous path

It is Six Months since they tried to Rob the Church

And in that time they have both become clean and Sober

They Live in a nice little Apartment

And hold down steady Jobs

All because of a Catholic Nun Named Carmel Parker

She has made Robert and Kelvins Lives  a lot brighter

and independent.

Full of hope love and contentment.

You don’t need a Gun or any Weapon to make a difference

Just provide a Shoulder to Cry on.

Say a few kind words or do a good gesture

That should do the trick

Just be a better Person.

Instead of a fucking dickhead.

THE END

Thanks for taking the time to read one of my stories and if you have the means could you please make a donation so i can achieve my dream and become a fulltime writer.

Share this:

  • Share
  • Twitter
  • Facebook

Like this:

Like Loading...

Subscribe

  • Entries (RSS)
  • Comments (RSS)

Archives

  • January 2023
  • September 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • January 2022
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • May 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • December 2020
  • October 2020
  • August 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014

Categories

  • poems
  • stories
  • Uncategorized

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in

Blog at WordPress.com.

  • Follow Following
    • stevenjohnstonblog
    • Join 69 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • stevenjohnstonblog
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
%d bloggers like this: