Once a month, I might post a couple of these “short” “stories” here! Cover images coming soon.
So. It’s that time of the month (year, sorry for the abysmal schedule!) that I post some article. Usually, I’d make this article about space, but I’ve decided to shelve the debilitating weight of the infinite cosmos in favour of writing awful stories for now.
So, tell me how it goes, since this is the first time I’ve written something akin to satire. These stories, for lack of a better word, are just ‘situational irony drummed up to the max’, so take these with a grain of salt.
And without further ado, let’s get straight into it! I hope you enjoy reading these stories as much as I did writing them. From the technical standpoint, they aren’t the best, but maybe, just maybe, a small slice of “Julien” gets imparted onto you as you read these.
May reality quiver in its boots!
STORY 1: The Misadventures of Professor Character
The kettle is brought to a boil, though I cannot hear its high-pitched wail anymore. Strapped to my prison of my wheelchair, I have no choice but to wait for my nurse to bring me my tea, and there is nothing but contempt in what’s left of my heart when she trips before me.
Down on her two feet, cleaning the spill before me, a familiar feeling courses through me. It is one of power, of unparalleled status, of having people do your bidding before the request even materialises within you. My legions of serfs; postdocs, postgrads, undergrads, able and ready to solve any problem I could pose to them, without fail. I would erect shrines of the highest praise to the Department-Deity, for it was ITS wisdom that provided me with the strength to continue.
There is, of course, that part of me which claims my heyday is long past. Similar to the greats, my armies were eventually depleted, and the Department-Deity I had once so revered placed me into ‘Mandatory Retirement’ purgatory. The gall, after I had sacrificed so much for the altar of progress!
I am thrust back to my body with a tap from the nurse, who now stares at me, her head tilted slightly. Her blank eyes betray no goal, no soul, no tangible emotion, as if she is an unfinished template of a human. Only when her lips move do I realise my mistake, by when it is too late to stop the flood.
“Wait, oh, are you okay? You’re clenching your fists- ” A return stare from me stops her in her tracks, if for just a moment. “Wait - I forgot. No asking this, right? Sorry about that! Hey, I’ll be back with another cuppa tea. Be right back~” Is she condescending me? She is condescending me, telling me that yes, I AM past my heyday. No, I cannot stand for this. She is the enemy.
The nurse has only just set the kettle on boil when I strike. My wheelchair creaks and groans, my arms move the fastest they have in ten years, and I feel the fire of adventure coursing through me again. The terminal velocity of this wheelchair is fast approaching, so I stretch my arms out, ready to take my life back-
Only to find that I cannot reach it. The nurse looks down at me and places a foot down on the pedal before I can careen into the wall, and a wide grin forms on her face.
“Hey! Be careful!” Oh no. I have no choice but to look down on the ground, and turn away from the scene of the crime.
…After all, I am Professor Character, and I am NOT behind on my heyday. IGNORE THE HATERS!!!
STORY 2: I OWN A RED BULL FOR HOME DEFENSE
From above the horizon, sheathed by the light of the moon, the silhouette of another ship comes into view. A washcloth of a sail ripples lightly with a coming breeze, and the ship slowly turns to meet me on the field. From afar, I can only just make out the words:
“Trick or Treat!”
What the devil? This captain jests! Threatening me, the UNCONTESTED ruler of these here cul-de-sacs? I must prepare for battle, for this insult cannot be tolerated.
It is easy to see that this ‘Captain’, if he can be called that, is a mere charlatan. One would assume it is common knowledge that none who pick a fight with the “Parent’s House” return unscathed - yet this miscreant, with their small sloop, still dares fight me? Far and wide I travelled to procure the pykrete in her hulls, the wool in her sails, the golden, limited-edition Jujitsu Kaisen figures that line each shelf of my cabin. It is, and still remains, the most POWERFUL vessel in this cul-de-sac.
Yet the rowboat still comes closer. Now they’re REALLY asking for it! I, Captain of THIS HERE VESSEL, ON MY MANDATORY three hours of sleep, am snug, well-rested, and am seeking employment. With the trade winds of burnout behind me, there is NO SHIP that can stand up to mind!
“RAISE THE BLACK FLAG!” I cry. The vibrations of my crew scurrying around the ship can be heard, and one such crewmember comes hurtling towards me. There are bags under her eyes, and she is draped in the robes fit for an empress - hello kitty pyjamas.
“Ey, Jimothy, mind keepin’ it down-”
“ENSIGN! CLIMB THE MAST, FOR WE MUST HAVE A LOOKOUT!”
“You’ve been in your room for-”
“INSUBORDINATION, I SEE? WELL, NO MATTER. CAPTAIN REDBEARD SHALL BE VICTORIOUS ONCE AGAIN!”
“But you don’t even have a-”
“SILENCE! THIS IS INSOLENCE OF THE HIGHEST ORDER. FOR THAT, YOU SHALL WALK THE PLANK!” Before I can say any more, the ensign just huffs and walks back up the stairs, shaking her head as she does. The time will come when she sees reason, I’m sure of it.
I rush to the first available window, mounting my 1-pound cannon on the sill. I load ammunition into the metal barrel, light the match, and cover my ears, waiting for glory.
“GUNS AWAY, FUCKERS!” A laugh escapes me as I hear a ‘thunk’, and the empty Red Bull erupts from the barrel with a vengeance, targeting the small pirate ship before me. He has gotten so, SO close, so close, so close, and the cannonball strikes him, sending splinters flying into the air. There is a cry, and the ship begins to turn tail, trying to ride the same waves to flee.
“Hey, HEY!! Okay, okay, trick, trick, trick, sorry, sorry1!!” comes the high-pitched wail. I only smile as I watch another shot connect, sending more splinters into the air. There is now a dent in the hull - good - and the ship stumbles as it takes more water. The ship returns fire, flinging a salvo at my port, but the hollow-point cannonball bounces harmlessly off the ship’s armour. I bark the order, and another salvo comes streaking towards the retreating ship. The “AMAZON PIRATE SHIP COSTUME, MADE IN VIETNAM” delenda est, for glory and gold.
As all fun things do, they must come to an end, and the ship comes grinding to a halt with one final salvo, planting face-first in the ocean before me. It drags itself away, crying and sobbing as it does, and I relish in my victory with a Red Bull.
A few moments later, I hear a siren outside my door. The “AMAZON PIRATE SHIP COSTUME MADE IN VIETNAM” must’ve called for backup, and the navy now surrounds my house. I call for my crew to join me, but they are nowhere to be found.
Now, the real battle will begin. Hoisting it on my shoulder, I load my cannon.
And as a bonus, take this neat quote I’m putting in my next lab report. Say it with me: 150% uncertainties are NOT anomalous.
“To live amid uncertainty is inevitable. To acknowledge it is to live as a grown-up.”
- Karen Jay Fowler, for Jeff VanderMeer’s Annihilation
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