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April 2017 Ficlet Challenge
Travisina
Joe Dredd wrote:

Travisina wrote:
Creme Eggs were great before they changed the recipe.


You could make your own enormous one: Pimp That Snack - Crème Egg!

Good grief! The time that took to make... the effort... the expense! Someone has far too much time on their hands.
Awesome result though, looks brilliant and I bet it tasted fab.
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
Travisina
@Rainesz - yay, what a fun story! Very funny, left me with a huge smile on my face. And now I fancy an omelette. Smile
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
Joe Dredd
The World is Not An Oeuf

You want eggs? I'll give you eggs, any way you want them. Poached, boiled, fried, scrambled. Salted, peppered, smothered in hollandaise sauce, accompanied by anchovy fillets or dressed with mungo chokii freshly flown in from Beta V if you've got the credits. Eggs from hens, quail eggs, Kaleechi eggs, spider eggs. Even caviar if you want it. Just don't ask for for teeny tiny toast troopers with the fish eggs. I've heard it a million times.

This fort-like structure of steel-topped counters in the corner of the dining floor is my domain. The Egg bar. Petit déjeuner chef, part entremetier, part boulanger, that's me, ready to make whatever eggy concoction you desire. Breakfast custard with rice? Certainly sir. Encore du pain? Immediately, madam. Did you know toast is considered a delicacy on Earth?

Everything was cleaned last night when the last shift went off, but I check it all again myself. I inspect the remainder of yesterday's bread as I fire up the kitchen systems. The loaves, rolls and muffins are swaddled tastefully in clean linen, lined up inside the transparent stasis cases along the back wall. A report comes up showing me what baked goods we are short of. I okay it on the console, triggering the dough machines which will in turn supply the bread machines. I dial up a latte. Baking is such hard, thirsty work.

Pleasant aromas begin to tease the air as the synthomatics get on with their jobs: warming chafing dishes, clarifying butter, making lardons of the bacon, grating cheese, initialising poaching frames and steaming the hotel pans. The coffee tastes good and I know a trick to stop the system deducting the cost from my pay.

A beautiful young lady passes, wearing a nano-rig over one eye. She is a data ninja. Who knows what she sees? She walks past every morning on her way to some other breakfast. She is of course Lady Emery. She tries to keep her title a secret but her good deeds are known everywhere, especially in this pit of depravity. Her righteous nature makes me think she must be a museli person.

Everything is working correctly. Soft blades begin gently stirring the curds forming in the bain maries. Further along the line, one of the fusion stoves sparks up, gently sweating another lot of bacon. Supply tubes release measured amounts of garlic and onion into the pans. There is only the briefest of moments between the smell of carmelising bacon reaching me and the extractor fans silently coming on line, stealing it away again.

Very few people are around this early in the station's morning cycle. There is one man however who keeps turning up before anyone else. He's well known on the station and he seems to keep gravitating to me. I wish he wouldn't. I value my anonymity.

As regular as clockwork and as certain as death, he arrives as I am making my usual wish.

I grab some chopsticks and whisk a few eggs. "How do you want your eggs today, hero?"

His curled lip turns even further. "I'm not a hero." He says this every day.

I tie on an apron. "For you, hero, I make them by hand. On the house."

"I'll pay my own way," he says.

"Your credit is no good here, hero." I tell him this every day. It's getting to be a ritual. "Today I make you truffled egg toast. You like?"

He says nothing. Down the line, smoked paprika, brown sugar, espresso, treacle and vinegar are released into the oniony, garlic bacon mixture on the fusion stove. Soon it will be bacon jam. It's very good on pancakes, topped with a fried egg, but also good on shellfish. Perhaps I will have some with my lunch.

I lightly toast some bread for hero, then grab my sharpest knife.

I cut a square well in the centre of each slice of toast. The knife feels like part of me. Hero sees the way I handle it, each cut quick and precise. I am pleased with my handiwork. It is a good job. I tip the egg into each well, then sprinkle grated cheese along the top outside edges bordering each well.

"Found your man yet, hero?"

He still says nothing. The silence means no.

Sliding the tray into the oven, I adjust the temperature and hit the timer. Lady Emery passes again, this time deep in conversation with some other famous beauties. From snatches of overheard conversation, I think their names are Einna and Eus.

I think I will show him my trick. Perhaps that will get a reaction. I spin the knife around on the back of my hand, down my forearm to my elbow and into my other hand, before tossing it blindly behind me. The rattle of the dish washer recepticle tells me it landed right on target. The management expect us to do all that flairing stuff. Sometimes even the customers do too.

Hero squints at me, beetling his brow.

The cheese has melted on his toast so I remove it from the oven. Quickly sliding it onto a warm plate, I stir the runny egg with a chopstick and dribble some truffle oil over it. I push the plate over to him.

"Try that, hero," I say, placing a fork, knife and napkin next to him.

Hero cocks his head to one side. "I knew a man who could spin a knife like that. He was in the Ground Assault Detachment under my personal command on Auros." His eye narrows even more. I feel like I am impaled on his gaze. "He deserted, Trooper Deraang."

My blood runs cold. I freeze, trying to give nothing away. He keeps talking. I try to work out where the nearest knife is.

"In the old days, I would do something about it. But now, I'm a deserter too." He sounds disgusted. Disgusted by me. Disgusted by himself. And disgusted by something bigger.

He slides off the stool and stalks away, leaving the eggy toast untouched and gently steaming.

And that was the last time I ever saw the Second Hero of the Baree.
 
Joe Dredd
That Steed-I-Am! That Steed-I-Am!
I do not like that Steed-I-Am!

Would you like green Kairopan?

I do not like it, Steed-I-Am.
I do not like green Kairopan.

Would you like it near or far?

I would not like it near or far.
I would not like it on Malodaar.
I do not like green Kairopan.
I do not like it, Steed-I-Am.

Would you share it in a mist?
Would you share it with a misogynist?
.
.
.
++ Error! Parody failing badly. No ovum detected. ++
++ Reboot ++
++ Suggest new angle: Go to work on an egg ++
++ Or eggs with lions stamped on them ++
++ These British people have strange ways ++
 
Travisina
Joe Dredd wrote:

The World is Not An Oeuf


That is BRILLIANT! Now I really, really, really want an egg - you're hired!
Luckily, my tastes are simple. Just a mushroom omelette, s'il vous plait Smile

(LOL at the named extras in your story, but haven't figured out the Trooper's anagram yet.)
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
Travisina
Joe Dredd wrote:

Go to work on an egg

Interesting factoid - that advertising slogan was publicised by novelist Fay Weldon ('Life & Loves of a She-Devil' )
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
Travisina
Joe Dredd wrote:

That Steed-I-Am! That Steed-I-Am!
I do not like that Steed-I-Am!

Would you like green Kairopan?

I do not like it, Steed-I-Am.
I do not like green Kairopan.

Would you like it near or far?

I would not like it near or far.
I would not like it on Malodaar.
I do not like green Kairopan.
I do not like it, Steed-I-Am.


Do you like the Future Man?
I don't like Moloch, Steed-I-Am

Do you like the Seskas' plan?
Power's silly, Steed-I-Am

That Steed-I-Am, that Steed-I-Am
Misogynistic Steed-I-Am!

PS But actually, I do like Jarvik Wink
Twitter: @TravisinaB7
Tumblr: tumblr
There's no point being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes
 
Joe Dredd
Travisina wrote:
Luckily, my tastes are simple. Just a mushroom omelette, s'il vous plait :)

One mushroom omelette on a silver plate coming up.

Travisina wrote:
haven't figured out the Trooper's anagram yet.)

Nothing clever with that one, I'm afraid. It's just a character name.
 
Joe Dredd
Travisina wrote:
PS But actually, I do like Jarvik ;)

But would you like him in a yurt?
Would you like him with his open shirt?
Would you like him hand-on-hips
Taking Tarrant with extra ships?

Would ladies say he's the one to go f'r
When he throws them on the sofa?
 
Joe Dredd
Henhouse

The fox couldn't believe it! All that tunnelling had paid off and he was finally in the chicken coop!

Suddenly the lights snapped on. Before him stood his arch enemies, the furry white Persian cat and her offsider, the sleek black Doberman.

Roj Fox stared at the empty rows where the chickens should be. "W-where are the chickens?" he stammered. "Where are the eggs?" Kerr Afghan had told him his coop coup was cuckoo.

"Oh, we moved them a long time ago," said Purrvelan, swishing her tail.

"Even we don't know where they are," barked her muscle-headed assistant. "Only Dogolli knows!"

"Shut up! Don't tell him that!"

But it was too late. While they were arguing, Roj Fox escaped.

"Oh," whined the attack dog disappointedly. "I didn't even get to say it was all an illusion."
 
Joe Dredd
Date Night

Dayna took one more look at the rocky surrounds as they sheltered under Scorpio. The whole planet seemed to be made up of nothing but tall, jagged outcrops and mountains, impossibly steep and unremittingly dull. Grey stone littered the uneven ankle-twisting ground wherever she looked.

She turned back to Tarrant. "So what you're telling me is, we can't take off?"

Tarrant nodded. "Without a replacement fusion torus there's no way to get Scorpio's drive reactor back on line." He grinned at her. "Think of it this way," he twinkled. "Did you ever see any sitcoms where the uptight dad finally loans the handsome son the clapped-out family ground car so he can take the pretty girl for a drive? And then the car breaks down and they get in trouble for being out so long? Well, there are certain analogies to our situation."

Dayna was unimpressed. "Funnily enough, we didn't have sitcoms on Sarren. I can tell by your silly grin that you think you've got the answer though."

"There's a man nearby in Skwerk who has exactly what we need," Tarrant replied. "Getting there is a problem, given we can't fly and there's not enough power to teleport, but I've got the solution to that, too."

As if on cue, a local man rode slowly into sight from around a rocky escarpment. He was sitting awkwardly on a large, dirty, goat-like creature as it made its way sure-footedly over the broken and uneven ground. Two more of the creatures followed behind in tow.

Dayna looked less than impressed. "What are they?" she asked.

"They're qwegs," replied Tarrant, as the man drew up near them. "They're native to the planet and the local way to get around."

Tarrant paid the man, who untied the spare animals, handing the reins to Tarrant. Wrapping himself in an extra blanket, the man settled down to sleep under Scorpio with his beast.

"They stink," frowned Dayna, wrinkling her nose as Tarrant handed her one of the sets of reins.

"Would you rather walk?"

Dayna looked at the dirty matted fur of her qweg and pulled a face.

"Paucho here says he'll mind Scorpio for us while we get on with it." Tarrant grinned, climbing on to his animal. "He says if we don't come back with his animals, he'll keep the ship."

"Normally I'd say that might be a fair deal, but not today." Dayna swung herself into the small insufficient saddle on her own beast. "I think I'm going to call this one Stinky. Are you sure there's no other way we can do this?"

Pulling on the reins, Tarrant's beast moved slowly off. Dayna and Stinky followed suit.

"There's a local saying here that covers it," answered Tarrant. "Go to Skwerk on a qweg."

As she bumped uncomfortably up and down in every direction, with the wind cutting in to her and the smell of Stinky in her nostrils, Dayna muttered to herself. "Just wait until I tell 'dad' you think he's uptight."
 
Joe Dredd
Copyright Violation

Vila stared at the small man in the big hat pointing a gun at him.

"You're kidding!" he cried desperately. He was almost in tears. "I can't lay golden eggs!"

"Shaddup!" shouted Big Louie, gesturing with the gun. "You've got a hundred egg cartons to fill. Now get cracking!"


++ Warning! You are getting too silly again! ++
++ Putting Vila in a Daffy Duck cartoon is ridiculous. ++
++ Besides, everyone knows Bugs = Blake and Daffy = Avon, which means Porky = Vila. ++
++ Except in those ones where Porky & Sylvester stay in a haunted house, in which case Porky = Avon and Sylvester = Vila. ++
++ Logic buffers confused! Error! Error! ++
 
Joe Dredd
Oops! I've looked back at the theme and realised it was "our heroes discover a mysterious egg", not just "EGGS" as a general theme.

Sorry for going off-theme everyone.
 
Anniew
I do not like medallion Burt
I do not like his open shirt
Even when rolling in the dirt
He's triggering my, 'Burke!" alert.
I'd much prefer to drink my blue
With curly straw without him too.
I do not like this special man
I do not like...I'm not a fan.


Having got that off my chest...

Wow Joe! Such BRILLIANT responses to the prompt. I have enjoyed them on so many levels...concept, writing, creativity. And to find Sue and I appearing in your story ...icing on a delicious cake!

Daffy Duck too! This cross over works even better than My Little Pony and I wish someone would make a video of it...( Travis 2 is the perfect Butch ( that chained Bull dog in its kennel)!but I may be mixing up my cartoons here.). Daffy in mad mode is perfect for season 4 Avon!!

Small point was it The Barli or Barlee? Was it deliberate obfuscation or have I always spelled it wrong?

Travisina really good read. So well done and I loved your's and Joe's clever "Sam I am" exchange.

Rainez Lovely, hillarious story. Fantastic Avon dialogue in fact all the characters were absolutely spot on.

Such a good month for entries. Vintage
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
Joe Dredd
Anniew wrote:
to find Sue and I appearing in your story

Any resemblance to real people posting on this forum may be coincidental, imaginary or the result of that strange cheese I ate last night.


Anniew wrote:
was it The Barli or Barlee? Was it deliberate obfuscation or have I always spelled it wrong?

Attwood had it as "Barlee", but I always heard it as "Bar-ee". When I learned about the Doc Holliday reference, I imagined it was another veiled reference to the Wild West; something like a 'bar-E' cattle brand (an E with a stroke over the top). I know I'm wrong (I've never found evidence that such a thing existed) but some things are deeply ingrained now, so I'm making like an Egyptian and living in denial.

Thank you also for the very kind words.
 
Anniew
Joe...keep eating the cheese...any fic in which even coincidentally I make an appearance as a beautiful lady is treasured!!
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
Joe Dredd
Avon and Vila helped themselves to some food while waiting for Vila's turn at speed chess. Avon had chosen an ice cream sundae and Vila had made himself an omelette with extra cheese.

"Did you see that elegant lady over at the egg station?" asked Vila. "Wow!"

"The one in the ten gallon hat?" asked Avon as they sat down at their table. "I wouldn't have thought anyone could wear something like that and manage to look so refined but she really pulled it off." He paused for a moment over a spoonful of ice cream. "There's something familiar about her though," he mused.

"Of course there is," exclaimed Vila excitedly. "That's the famous Annie Yolk-ley."
 
Anniew
Dear Joe,

Can I borrow those rose coloured spectacles? I'm off to buy a ten gallon hat!

Annie Smile
Just because I can't sing doesn't mean I won't.
 
Ellen York
Great stories to end the month!

Sue, a new Cadbury story is always a treat and I love creme eggs.

Mistletoe, little Vila is so adorable; I can see him keeping his collection of Kinder egg toys.

Rainesz, I laughed all the way through the story, the baby octopus imprinting on Blake, Vila hiding behind Gan, Avon being snarky, it was all perfect. You should do an illustration to go with it.

Joe D, did you save up your stories all month to make a big splash at the end? I especially liked Tarrant casting himself as the handsome son in a sitcom (with Avon as the grumpy dad).
 
littlesue
Anniew wrote:
Wow Joe! Such BRILLIANT responses to the prompt. I have enjoyed them on so many levels...concept, writing, creativity. And to find Sue and I appearing in your story ...icing on a delicious cake!


Crumbs, Anniew, I must be getting old, I didn't spot that until I went back and read it.....and now I'm feeling hungry...again!!!
 
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