The Best Parts of the Lime Pickle

“I can’t imagine what the world would have looked like,” said the child wistfully, “if I had never been in it.”

“You can,” said runningvein, and a new dawn broke across what was previously a miserable state.

“I still can’t see it,” said the child, “I mean, what are you actually saying? That when I enter the room, the lights don’t automatically switch off?”

“What kind of crazy contraption is that?” said runningvein.

“And mist begins to occur, within this darkness.”

“Are there elves?” asked rune-ingvein, “and orcses,” he took a short moment to thumb through several longer passages, and then added, “and orcas?”

“No elves, or orcses,” said the waning star. “But orcas. I can do that. I can give you a pretty good orca.”

“Tomas,” said runningvein.

“What?”

“Tomas. You were a doubting Tomas. But that is how it works, with trains, planes and teleportation. Begin with a healthy bit of doubt.”

“So you’ve been carefully looking at my face all this time?”

“Studying,” said runningvein. “There is educational vtgtherent here.”

About runningvein
Avatar of runningvein
"My pieces comprise, entirely, works of fiction. Some pieces are shorts, others tend to get a little longer. Some are straightforward and may be read evenly, while others can tend to be amorphous. You see, sometimes the writer does his piece completely lucid, sitting straight up and staring intently into it as his fingers simply glide across the keys. Other times his eyes are opaque with tears from imaginary emotions. Sentences, nay, words, barely come out as he stabs at each letter with one trembling finger, like how your mom types. Then there are the times a piece of work is scrawled from a leaking pen on a notepad in a bar after several whiskeys, as the writer gleefully tries to get everything down before the bouncers come over to throw him out for laughing like a crazy person to himself all night. The writer cannot say what is good, or what is bad. He can only write. It does not do for one to rank a piece of his work above others, just as it does not do for one to deign to strive to be published. That must be left to others, to come and ask the writer if they may publish his work, and that all of the work would be copyright (c) him 2000-2009, if they were to do so. Some of the pieces may even seem far too real -- as though he's actually blogging about his real life, his personal thoughts. You know -- because it is a blog, some people may think that may be the case. Well it ain't, damn you, it ain't." The man in the tracksuit shrugged over the counter. "Thanks for the info, Hemingway," he said, "but I just wanted to know where the damn ATM is."

2 thoughts on “The Best Parts of the Lime Pickle

  1. shit, your profile got long. almost as long as your script. good either way. have a good one. -jimbo

  2. Heh. Every story I post is a twofer. Double the value!

Leave a Reply