Sven: Part I

I have noticed I have picked up a few more followers over the last few posts, more than usual, which fills my heart with jelly beans and marshmellows. I have also noticed that my little stories have gotten more likes than usual. So for my new followers, and those who have not time-traveled my blog posts, I have decided to re-post a work still in progress. It’s called “Sven”, some of you may know him, others don’t. I will release this story in parts over the next few weeks. May you enjoy this silly, tall-tale of an awesometastic being named Sven.  Happy Friday!


The thing about the thing about telling tales of leaf people is that they don’t like it much. My one friend’s second cousin, Andy, he once told a story of a leaf person. THAT story was genius! But that leaf person heard about it, stole Andy’s car, pawned it in and replaced it with a big shiny bubble. Andy was outraged, as insurance companies don’t insure big shiny bubbles. So leaf people tales are delicate. You have to know how to spindle their stories. If your facts aren’t entirely correct you WILL fall victim to a leaf person’s prank. Many people are quick to dismiss leaf people stories as “Tall Tales”. Just wait till they have a leaf person tale to tell! Truth be told leaf people are very friendly and helpful, it’s just that a lot of the tales that are spun are not entirely accurate. Not this one. This tale is about a particularly awesome leaf person named Sven.

Sven is brilliant. He once taught a door stop how to walk. That door stop went on to win gold at the Sydney Olympics. Sven is a traveller, a true leaf Gypsy. He even used to dress up as a middle-aged woman, reading various animals and people their future with a crystal ball, but the animals and people were confused and many feared his androgynous psychic abilities. Anyway, Sven was an orphan you see, lost his entire family tree at a young age. He witnessed them burn, but he luckily got away. He never let it get him down. He had some GREAT friends like Hillcrest the sautéed peanut and Freckles the ginger cauliflower. He met many friends through the years from many places. Sven worked many jobs too, that’s how he met so many people. He once agreed to wrestle a zebra for a wheel of cheese just so he could chase it down a grassy hill. Sven is great, he was even asked to help free a whale caught in fishing nets off the coast of New Zealand. Sven was genius; he just rowed out to the whale, spoke to him for 20 minutes, convinced the whale he was a salamander and swam away fancy free! Ah Sven, definitely the guy you want in your posse. I remember this one time we were in a crunch. Everyone was panicking, except Sven. Sven was so cool. He just unzipped his trousers, pissed out strawberry Nesquick and ate us all out to safety. It’s that “Make anything happen” attitude that made Sven so loveable. This particular tale happened a couple of years ago in the 3rd and a half month on the eleventy first day, under the light of a full moon…


P.S. Please note that the images used in this post do not belong to me, these images were the closest I could Google that represents Sven and leaf people.  


A city by the sea

BoKaap (Large)


It was a city of 3.74 million ghosts, all living on auto-pilot. Life was a routine, a reaction to emotion and the senses. Each ghost was more important than the other, in a competition to be more alive. The competition eventually became another routine, squeezing the life from its form, leaving the shell to walk the earth as it desperately sought day after day the connection in once had with life.
Now the city is filled with varying degrees of a somnambulist society, silently screaming for a life that is not ready to exist until evolution decides the time is right…

Somewhere in the Multiverse

The following has swearing, please use own discretion.

He had been sitting on the hard wooden chair at his desk for nearly two hours. His back was aching, but he sat perfectly still facing forward into a blank wall. A few feet to his left was a large window overlooking traffic and a small park. On the desk sat a vintage typewriter that performed better than it looked and in the typewriter awaited a blank white sheet of paper. He stared at the wall with his hands on either side of the typewriter just sitting. Waiting. His apartment was quiet, except for the moan of afternoon traffic and the songs of various birds. He had been staring so long at the bland cream-coloured wall, that the texture of the paint on the wall began making odd shapes and he had to blink his eyes several times just to make sure it really was what he was seeing.  He banged his fist on the table which made his cat, who was lying lazily on the foot of the bed behind him, jump awake.

“This is fucking useless!” he said to no one, but directing it at his cat, who simply went back to pretending to sleep. “I have sat here for so long. We should have had at least something by now!” He turned and looked at his cat, who wasn’t in any way interested in his problems. “Thanks a lot!” He said to his cat. “You couldn’t perhaps try be a little more helpful, no? An idea or two? No?” He paused, almost expecting an answer. “Lazy shit.” and like a little school boy, tossed a pen at his cat.

“WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?!” Meowed his cat. “What you do that for? Are you fucking nuts?”

“I’ve sat here for nearly two hours, trying to write a story, my back aches, my eyes are seeing weird shit on the wall and you haven’t contributed a fucking thing!”

His cat sighed and rolled his eyes “Could you be any more whinny?!”

“Yeah. Shall I do an impersonation of you at dinner time?”

“Get stuffed.”

“What does that even mean?” The two looked at each other and gave each other a half-hearted shrug. “Could you just help me please, instead of sleeping all the time?” he said to the cat.

“Fine.” Said the cat through a yawn that almost unhinged his jaw. “Where are we?”

“Nowhere.” answered the guy.

“So, at the beginning then?” questioned the cat.

“We need an idea to be at the beginning. Right now, we are before the beginning. We are in the middle of nowhere, without an idea. How are we suppose to get around without an idea? Ideas are like the vehicles of the mind!” he said, as if high on MDMA.

“Jeez, chill out man. Take it easy!” said the cat as he got up to sit.

“You know, for someone who can tell great stories, you’re really shit at coming up with ideas.” said the guy to his cat, whom now sat licking his right paw.

“Ooh, ouch! Project much?” retorted the cat.

“Project? What?” muttered the guy confused.

“Yeah. You’re projecting because you can’t come up with a good enough idea. Its you, not me.” and the cat went back to cleaning his paws.

“Get stuffed!” The two looked at each other, paused and shrugged.

“Well you could at least help me a bit.” said the guy. “You’re good with stories.”

“Oh snap. I thought I was a lazy shit?” retorted the cat.

“Well, in some alternate universe you are.”

“Oh yeah? Well in some alternate universe you’re douche bag.” proclaimed the cat.

“Some would say we live in that universe.” replied the guy.

The two laughed. “Wait.” Said the cat. “That’s brilliant. Tell the many stories of the multiverse.”

“Great! How do we start it?” Asked the guy

There was a few moments paws…and then the cat answered “Somewhere in the multiverse…”


He was a seagull named Benedict. He was the one who woke me up. He sat perched on the open window sill. His tone was casual as he asked “Sleep well?” he paused as I rubbed my eyes and slowly sat up in my bed. The air was icy and my feet felt frozen. I pulled open the duvet and saw snow on my feet. I blinked hard as my eyes tried to focus.

“You dream anything?” Benedict asked.

“I…um…just woke up from visiting a badger who lives in a tree trunk buried in snow…But I thought I…”

“Exited your dream?” casually interrupted the seagull. “You know, an exit is just an entrance to another place. Any threshold you cross is both an exit and an entrance, it’s all about perception. You didn’t exit that dream, my friend, you entered into another. Another realm you might say.” Benedict went on to scratch his back with his beak.

“What should I do then?” I asked.

“Well, since you have met the badger, there is someone else you must meet. Everyone calls him ‘The Watchmaker’, a fantastic, gem of a being. If the badger spoke to you, then you are ready to meet ‘The Watchmaker’. Follow me.”

Benedict jumped off the window sill and floated to the floor. He waddled out the bedroom door and down the passage, which seemed longer that it usually did. “Where are we going now?” I questioned still half asleep from my previous dream.

“We going to meet ‘The Watchmaker’, but we need transport.” He stopped at the bathroom door turned and faced the toilet. “There’s the transport.” he said staring at the porcelain throne.

“Uh, that’s my toilet.” I said in an obvious tone.

“Yes, well done. You will find everything you need behind the door. Make sure you put everything on and flush yourself down the tubes, mmkay? I won’t be far behind.” He gave me a smile that only a seagull could give. He must be enjoying this.
Behind the door I found flippers, snorkel, goggles, water-wings and a swimming cap with peacock feathers attached to it. Without question I put on the attire and looked at the seagull.
He gave out a shrill but hearty laugh that only a seagull with seagull humour could express.

“I feel stupid.” I said looking down at my ridiculous traveler’s uniform.

“Ah, but after some words with ‘The Watchmaker’ I can assure you, you will feel slightly less stupid.” He gave me an honest seagull smile and I couldn’t help but return it with my honest human smile. “OK.” I said hidden behind an uncertain, forced laugh.
I stepped awkwardly into the toilet bowl. I felt the water around my feet and gave a half grimace – half-smile to the seabird.

“Wait, I almost forgot” said Benedict. “Here, you will need this.” with his beak he pulled from out the shower, a kick board.

I held it in my hands and stared down at it in disbelief. Before I could say or question anything, Benedict was already next to the toilet, “OK let’s go!” And with that, I was flushed down the toilet like an expired gold-fish.


The badger

I stood up and wrapped the scarf snug around my neck. As I was putting on my jacket the badger entered the room and walked over to the fireplace.
“Matthew.” he said, as he got up on his hind legs and took a long draw on his hash pipe, “The idea is to change yourself for the betterment of others, not for the betterment of self.” He sat down on his rocking chair as he exhaled and smiled.
I gave the badger a nod as I opened the thick wooden door. The chill from the wind blew my face numb and snow fell to my feet. I walked bravely out of the badger’s house into the cold as I exited my dream.



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Eleventy seven minor eons ago, there was a being named Rogerick who sprouted from an onion seed…

Rogerick was a brave, wise being – a chipped teacup being, born of the unsprouted onion seed whilst the identity of his father is unbeknown to him. After being spawned from his onion seed mother, he was taken in & cared for by an old scryer woman till she passed away & Rogerick was left to care for himself.
And because he was such a unique being, he was often overlooked as he was not everyone’s cup of tea…

Sundays part 2: Cat-nip & rocket ships


After 15 minutes of chewing and smoking cat-nip his pupils were dilated and his movements restless.
“C’mon, man! It’s just standing there. That rocket ship isn’t going to flight itself! Get me my Hunter Thompson glasses and meet me in the cockpit.” He meowed loudly at his owner. “And bring more cat-nip!” He shouted as an after thought. “Its under the Christmas tree!” He mewed even louder as an after after thought.
“I dont think thi…”
“Bat country here we come!” Interrupted the cat. “Did you bring the crisps? Ah, forget it.” He mewed as he pawed the controls, sending the rocket ship blasting high into the Saturday afternoon, early evening sky…