Curtailed Tales: Readings for the time poor

By Steve Davies

A woman experiences an unusual death. An explorer discovers the uncomfortable truth about the meaning of life. A ship's crew mutinies because of the captain's unfortunate personal problems. And that's only the hors d'oeuvres...
'Curtailed Tales' is a combination of micro and flash fiction stories featuring a myriad of curious characters ensconced in various weird and wonderful scenarios. It delivers to the reader imagined futures, rewritten histories, suburban melodramas, intercourse (the social and sexual kinds) and alien encounters (of the third kind)
Humorous, and punctuated by the deadly serious, all one hundred 'tales' are designed as entertainment for an adult audience and, where applicable, their far too worldly-wise offspring.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Davies
• Release date: May 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9780994606013

Steve Davies

Steve Davies is an Australian writer who has been producing prolific amounts of poetry, short stories, sketches and song lyrics over the past twenty years - almost entirely for his own amusement. Encouraged by the members of the Mordialloc Writers Group to share these works with the world, he has one published collection of poetry called 'Out of my mind: a collection of poetic forms' (an eBook only - 2014) and a self-published collection of 'flash' fiction called 'Curtailed Tales' (2016). He has also contributed to two printed anthologies - Kingston My City (Mordialloc Writers Group) and The 21st Anthology (Canterbury Writers) and is currently working on 'More Curtailed Tales' and 'Not the usual murder and mayhem' (short stories).In addition, 1970's vintage Mad magazine, Monty Python, Stephen King and a cynical view of (a) the world (b) life in all it's aspects are cited as inspirations for his writing.

Book preview

Curtailed Tales

Readings for the

time poor

Steve Davies

Published by Steve Davies at Smashwords

Copyright 2016 Steve Davies

Smashwords Edition, Licence 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 your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover Art

Helen Timbury Design of Drouin, Victoria, Australia

Table of Contents

Foreword

Readings times 100

What people are saying about Curtailed Tales

About Steve Davies

Other books by Steve Davies

Connect with Steve Davies

Acknowledgements

Not backward in coming Foreword

I realise this should be the 'Preface'; however I don't like doing much by convention. Had I been in the right mood I would have opted to call this section 'Preffy McPreface' in honour of Boaty McBoatface. It's all by the by.

One evening I informed my Mordialloc Writers Group colleagues that I had created a new genre of literature called ‘Frivolous nonsense’. An explanation of this concept can be found in a piece of poetry featured in my e-Book ‘Out of my mind’:-

Frivolous nonsense

Frivolous nonsense, the product of a

bullshit fed brain, chemically imbalanced

Trivial inconsequence, created by a

disturbed mind, mentally challenged

Lewis Carroll-like, all dreamy

mythical, phantasmagorical, warm fuzzy

sci-fiesque, other worldly

amorphous, totally illogical, damn funny

I believe the very short stories provided here (both Micro and Flash fiction) cover off on those ideas. In the mix there are the occasional ‘serious’ offerings, some provocative stuff, naughty bits and rude language, but ‘frivolous’ and ‘nonsense’ dominate within these pages. This book is intended as an entertainment and I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

Steve Davies

6 May 2016

Ennui

It was a chilly, fog-laden evening. On a railway crossing a car had stalled. A train approached. The driver panicked. Unable to unfasten her seatbelt, she froze in the glare of the oncoming light. Just before impact, her life flashed before her eyes.

The autopsy revealed she died of boredom before the train struck.

Not 42

Explorer Cuthbert Winterbottom travelled to Tibet to find ‘the enlightened one’ – a spiritualist said to be the knower of all things. Upon meeting this ‘guru’, Cuthbert asked the eternal question, ‘What is the meaning of life?’

Cuthbert received a rolled up piece of paper tied with a frayed string. Throughout the period of the visit the guru never spoke a word, preferring to maintain a meditative state.

Returning to his native England, Cuthbert presented the paper to the Royal Society of Naturalists. He untied the string very carefully and gently unfolded the paper.

The page was completely blank on both sides.

Mutiny and the bounty

The year: 1789. The location: Somewhere in the Pacific

As the temperature and humidity climbed, beads of sweat began to trickle down Captain Steinky’s forehead.

‘This can’t be good,’ he thought.

Profuse perspiration, awful body odour and excretions of a gaseous form had plagued him since puberty and no amount of bathing, masculine perfumery or air freshener ever helped his cause.

‘Sir?’ enquired the first mate. ‘The crew are starting to complain again. I fear they may mutiny if you don’t do something about your, you know, problem.’

‘Let them mutiny!’ he thought in defiance as his uncontrollable flatulence broke the silence like a trumpeter’s fanfare.

‘Knew it was a mistake to go the ‘Chilli Cheese’ variety’ noted the Captain recalling the baked beans he had consumed at the midday luncheon. ‘And that’s particularly fruity even by my standards.’

The crew cracked it.

The Captain copped the old heave-ho for his socially unacceptable afflictions and spent several days drifting Bligh-style on a raft in the South Pacific. As luck would have it Steinky ran aground on a remote island inhabited by friendly, tolerant natives.

A resourceful bunch, the islanders utilised their new arrival as an alternative fuel source, a reserve water supply and an effective shark repellent. In addition, the Captain inspired the natives to create the earliest known form of gas mask.

Steinky remained on the island (which he named Resuscitation Island) and achieved God status.

The Captain’s shipmates, on the contrary, passed into history unnoticed.

Cut above

A car screeches to a halt outside the emergency department. Two men exit the vehicle, assisting a third who struggles to move. Together they approach the Triage nurse.

‘I think I’m dying’ says the man in a feeble voice.

‘Don’t waste my time’ replies the nurse. ‘You have the flu. Go home and rest.’

Too weak to argue, the man concedes. He has no option but to take his flu-like symptoms and go.

A few paces outside the man doubles over. ‘What a bitch! If I had the strength I’d kick her fat ass!’

‘Take it easy bro’ says one of his companions. ‘You are turning purple.’

The man hears this and scowls. ‘I need a sharp knife or anything sharp.’

‘I got a Swiss Army pocket knife in the car’ says one friend. ‘Are you gonna kill her?’

‘Go fetch it. Now!’ The man sinks to his knees and his friend obliges.

With his last ounce of strength he slides the blade across both wrists. As blood flows he declares, ‘Now they’ll take me,’ and passes out.

Later in recovery, a doctor consults the man. ‘You were lucky. You survived the blood loss and we caught the meningococcal infection in time.’

Gamer

The scene is a bar somewhere. A man sits on a stool nursing his beer. He is eyeballed by an attractive woman who sits at the bar next to him.

Her body language is open. Clothed in a little black dress which shows off her shapely figure and a hint of cleavage, this is a woman who can turn heads.

The man notices her and turns his head. He looks her up and down and says, ‘Hello’ in a manner expressing pleasure at the sight before him.

‘Hi, there,’ she responds and smiles.

Running quickly through his head for a clever line, the man plucks out a standard cliché. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’ he enquires.

‘Sure,’ she replies.

The man orders her a drink and the bartender serves it.

‘You’re alone, I’m guessing?’ she says in a way that is both question and statement, but doesn’t wait for a response. ‘Even though you’re wearing a wedding ring and you did have that sad, henpecked look about you when I walked in. Trouble at home?’

The man stares down at his half-empty glass. Without looking up he nods.

‘Well,’ says the woman, ‘perhaps we can play ‘My wife doesn’t understand me’.

This time the man turns and locks eyes with the woman. ‘What do you mean?’ he asks.

‘Simple, you give me the sob story and I give you sympathy in return. Because I ‘listen’ (she emphasises the word) and show interest in your situation you find me appealing beyond my good looks. You then suggest we go back to my place. I agree and we end up naked on the floor fucking each others’ brains out!’

The man’s jaw drops he is so stunned. He is incapable of speech.

‘Disillusioned, married men make very passionate lovers, I find,’ says the woman, her face beaming. ‘So, let’s play!’

Hero to zero

Corporal Bloggs received orders from his Commanding Officer to commit a crime. He refused.

Bloggs experienced a severe backlash for the decision. His fellow officers ceased all contact and the military hierarchy blacklisted him. With no future in the forces and no life to return to as a civilian, he committed suicide.

The media picked up on the story. ‘Corporal Bloggs - a man of principles in a world devoid of morals. A true hero’ declared one article. ‘A defiant stance that provides inspiration for all in the new millennium’ stated another.

In death, Bloggs achieved titles such as ‘Defender of the faith’, ‘Upholder of rights’ and ‘Battler for the cause of all the little people.’

Five years later a journalist posed the question, ‘Do we remember Corporal Bloggs?’

The people responded, ‘Corporal who?’

When Private Jones committed a crime as ordered a brouhaha of major proportions occurred. The event caught the attention of movie makers who produced a well scripted, well acted, popular cinematic experience. And the repetitive playing of the film on Pay TV ensured Jones remained in the public consciousness for perpetuity.

Hello Norma Jean

Aged Care worker Dougal looked at his roster and noted he had a new client for Monday – Mr Lionel Crabbe. Further investigation revealed the man to be eighty five and suffering numerous ailments, the worst a slow growing tumour in his brain. The inexperienced Dougal wondered how three hours of respite care might pan out.

On the Monday he drove to the Crabbe residence feeling a little nervous.

At the door he met Brooke, the old man’s daughter, whose face bore a weary look despite the smile.

‘Do come in’ she said and led the way along the lengthy hall to a large lounge area where on a recliner sat Mr Crabbe. ‘Dad, this is Dougal, your carer for today.’

The old man turned and uttered a brief grunt.

‘Hi Mr Crabbe’ said Dougal and Brooke shook her head.

‘He prefers Lionel’ said Brooke as a second grunt emanated from the elderly gent.

‘Sorry’ said Dougal. ‘Are you dashing off?’