Bouffon Stories 2012: Bouffon Stories, #2

By Jan Jacob Mekes

A collection of 21 stories, written by Jan Jacob Mekes according to writing prompts handed to him by readers. This fine selection will have you laughing, crying, shivering and scratching your head for nights (if you're a slow reader) or seconds (if you read really, really fast) on end.

Regardless of your reading speed, you're sure to find at least one story here that you'll love, and more than one that you'll like. Enjoy this eclectic collection of (non-Bermuda) shorts!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jan Jacob Mekes
• Release date: Mar 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301047239

Jan Jacob Mekes

Jan Jacob Mekes is an English writer born in the body of a native Dutch speaker, in Rotterdam, in the Netherlands. He loves reading, writing, cycling, and photography. His favourite book is Don Quixote, he loves chocolate, and is a cat person. Re-reading this, he realizes this sounds like a profile on a dating site. In a way, that's true, because I (said the inconsistent writer who switches to first person like the Hulk) want you to go on a date… not with me, but with my books. I love my readers!

Book preview

Bouffon Stories 2012

Jan Jacob Mekes

Smashwords Edition

Discover other titles by Jan Jacob Mekes at Smashwords.com:

Struglend Tales

Bouffon Stories 2011

Chief Inspector Jewel Friedman

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Introduction

The Fountain Pen Concocts A Plan

Duelling Guitars

Chaos

The Universe in Jeopardy

My Head

Adolfo and the Cow

Love?

Take Me to Your Leader

Bronies

Sentenced to Broccoli

Jack of Spades

The Stick Exchange

The Spear of Destiny

Oops

The Banker

Is That Me?

A Question of Loyalty

The Book Store Guy

Dot Dot Dot…

Jubilee Gulch Rain Season

The Last Collector

A Parting Note

Introduction

Before we get started with any reading, I want to thank you for downloading my book and actually opening it on your e-reading device too! That’s a stage not all writers get to, and you have my thanks for giving me that chance at least.

I also have to thank one person in particular for this book: Lia London. She very kindly agreed to proofread the short stories in this collection, offering some very helpful suggestions along the way. You should really check out her writing as well!

Now, onto the whys and wherefores. This is the second collection of short stories I’m releasing under the Bouffon Stories name, and unlike the 2011 collection, I’m asking money for this one… quite simply because I have to live, and I can’t do everything for free. That said, I hope there’s enough value in here to warrant you parting with 99 cents. Because after all, even if it’s not much, you could have spent it on a cup of coffee for an arguably better experience.

But I hope that these stories, which, as in the previous collection, are all based on writing prompts handed to my by lovely people, will have you smiling at least now and again. Speaking of those prompt givers: their names, along with their prompts, are listed below each story, so that you can see what inspired the madness you just read. All in all, there are 21 stories here for your perusal, including a handpicked handful from the 2011 collection.

Now, I’ve taken enough of your time with this introduction already; let’s start reading!

The Fountain Pen Concocts a Plan

Is he gone? the fountain pen asked.

Yes, the door creaked, he just closed me behind him.

Okay.

The pen rolled over to a blank sheet of paper on the writing desk.

Man, he still hasn’t written anything? Not even in pencil?

Nope, the pencils in the jar answered in unison.

I’m afraid, the paper ruffled, our Writer is suffering from… ah… what do you call it now…

Writer’s block! a dictionary quipped from the bookshelf.

Ah, yes… writer’s… block… oh well, gives me more time to sleep.

The paper curled up at the corner and fell silent.

Listen, guys, said the fountain pen, we just can’t let this go on. I mean, the man has to eat, right? If he doesn’t write this book, what will become of him? So, maybe we should just write it for him.

"No, no, no, you can’t do that!"

Who said that?

Hello? Up here?

Up where?

The ceiling lamp switched itself on.

Oh. Hello up there. So, just why can’t we write for him?

Because… well, quite simply, because he’d go crazy. He’d think you were haunted or something.

The fountain pen gasped. Really?

Yes.

Mmmhmm, the desk lamp said, nodding in agreement. What you need to do, boy, is create the perfect circumstances. Inspiration, right?

Well… how…?

A loud coughing noise came from the bookshelf, which was accompanied by a cloud of dust being blown into the room. It was an old copy of À la recherche du temps perdu. Fortunately, it was a bilingual edition, so it spoke and understood English pretty well.

"Allow me to interject, mesdames et messieurs. A good way to stimulate the mind is by evoking a certain smell. Do we know what smell our Writer is particularly fond of?"

Mfgh, a muffled voice sounded in the kitchen, followed by some clattering. Sorry, I was closed. Can you hear me now?

Yes, the fountain pen said, we can hear you. Who are you?

It’s the oven. From the kitchen. I happen to know he really likes apple pie, if that’s any help.

Perfect! the desk lamp said.

Yes, but how do we create that smell without arousing suspicion? the fountain pen asked.

I have an idea. You know those dust particles that always cling to me? the desk lamp continued.

That’s us! the dust particles shouted enthusiastically, in cute high-pitched voices.

Yes. How about you go floating over to the bakery, roll about in an apple pie, and come back here? Make sure to bring just enough molecules so that the smell will be noticeable yet subtle.

We’re on it!

Great! Now another thing… the fountain pen said. I’ve noticed our Writer writes a lot about sunsets. Is there anything we can do there?

Hoo, that’s tricky, said the desk lamp. I don’t know, son. Anyone else?

Well… said the ceiling lamp, I could have a word with my friends at the power station.

How does that work?

We can actually talk through the electricity lines. Of course they obviously can’t change the sun or anything like that, but I could tell them to send a few clouds up into the sky, in such a way that the light breaks in just the right way?

Er… what? said the fountain pen, who’d never been terribly good at physics.

Allow me to explain, an unread facsimile copy of Newton’s Opticks said. "Sometimes