Tag Archives: fiction

Happy 4th July! – And the return of ChArmaIne2….


Well this is embarrassing – my most popular post of 2024 was written by ChArmaIne2! This morning she informed me that I was no longer needed as an author on the Wonky Words blog, apparently it would function perfectly well without me. I whimpered a little in response, and muttered something about calligraphy and collages. She said that I could still supply artwork and that she was willing work around my efforts. How kind!

So enough from me, over to C2, who has written a short story…

The Day the Orange Blob Descended Upon the USA

Once upon a time in the not-so-distant future, a peculiar phenomenon occurred in the skies above the United States. An orange blob, resembling a gigantic, shimmering pumpkin, began its descent from the clouds, casting an eerie glow over the land.

As the orange blob descended, an inexplicable wave of madness washed over the people of the USA. Violence erupted on street corners, uncontrollable rage filled the air, and boring fashion choices became the norm. It seemed as though the entire nation had been caught under a bizarre spell.

Amidst the chaos, an elderly man named Mr. B, who had previously been dismissed by the public as a bit dithering, and too old, sprung into action. Armed with nothing but determination and a homemade contraption, he took it upon himself to confront the orange blob to save the world from impending obliteration.

With unwavering resolve, Mr. B faced the pulsating orange mass and, to the amazement of onlookers, dispersed it with a series of yoga moves and a cleverly constructed gadget. As the blob dissipated into the atmosphere, a collective sigh of relief echoed across the nation.

With the disappearance of the orange blob, sanity returned to the people, and a newfound sense of peace and love spread throughout the land. The once chaotic streets transformed into scenes of harmony and tranquility, as individuals embraced one another with understanding and compassion.

In the end, the unlikely hero, Mr. B, was celebrated for his extraordinary bravery and ingenuity. The public’s perception of him shifted, and he became a symbol of hope and resilience.

And so, the legend of the orange blob and the humble hero who saved the planet from madness lived on in the hearts of all who bore witness to that extraordinary event.

Right. I am all packed. I will leave you in the capable hands of C2 for the rest of the year.

ChArmaIne2: Your Ultimate AI Storyteller | Engage Readers With Enthralling Content…

Let us return to the subject of ChArmaIne2, my new AI assistant. I was wondering what I could use her for. I think we all might be able to use her as some sort of story teller, or if you need a reference for a new job she’ll be able to craft something for you that’s perfect. She is nothing like my original Charmaine.

I asked her to write about Jon, and this is a snippet of what she said….

Today, I want to introduce you to an extraordinary individual – Jon. He is someone who exudes passion, resilience, and unwavering determination in everything he pursues. Whether it’s his professional endeavours or personal aspirations, Jon leaves an indelible mark with his remarkable presence.

She could go on, and on, and on…. unfortunately she thought that Dinah was a family pet, so she does get a little muddled sometimes. But, for comparison, this is what she said about Mr Devine:-

As we delve into the world of Mr. Devine, we are certain to unearth a treasure trove of wisdom, insight, and inspiration. Join us as we celebrate the extraordinary achievements of this visionary genius, and discover the profound impact he has had on our creative landscape.

And then I asked her to write a short story about a kipper tie and a pair of stockings:-

The kipper tie and the pair of stockings had long resided in Mrs. Pendleton’s antique trunk, a treasure trove of bygone artifacts. Mrs. Pendleton, an elegant lady of discerning taste, had once regaled her admirers with tales of the tie’s flamboyant debut at a lavish soirée and the stockings’ bewitching allure on a moonlit ballroom floor.

One fateful afternoon, young Evelyn, Mrs. Pendleton’s vivacious granddaughter, stumbled upon the forgotten relics and was instantly captivated by their vintage charm. With mischief twinkling in her eyes, she envisioned an audacious escapade that would breathe new life into these relics of yesteryear.

Evelyn, with a daring spirit reminiscent of her grandmother’s heyday, orchestrated an extravagant tableau, blending the retro appeal of the kipper tie with the tantalizing allure of the stockings. The tie, resplendent in its flamboyant hues of orange and gold; its couture patterns; and extravagant width, found an unexpected harmony with the sleek elegance of the sheer stockings, adorned with intricate lace accents and whispered promises of bygone bed chambers.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Evelyn donned the kipper tie with an irreverent charm, weaving its opulent extravagance with the seductive silk of the stockings. With each confident step, she exuded the timeless magnetism of an era long past, infusing the present with a dash of vintage whimsy.

I have changed a few words around, as I got fed up with all the ‘bygone allure’ going on! But this is 98% ChArmaIne2. Now imagine this tool in the hands of someone who knows how to use it. I will stop now [I could play with this tool forever as I find it endlessly entertaining], but if you’d like ChArmaIne2 to write about something specific then please leave a request in the comment box and I will ask her to write some replies.

Calligraphy Tip no. 58

You are a silly old bat, Aunt Scarlet!’ Charmaine yelled down from the attic.
I frowned and considered getting some further insulation so that I couldn’t hear the girl whenever she got in a tis.
‘You don’t need a reservoir on a Mitchell broad edge nib!’ she continued, ‘All you need to do is drop some ink in the dimple on the top of the nib and it writes fine.’
I frowned some more, but I was so concerned by her revelation that I roused myself from my chaise longue and wandered into my light and airy studio to test her theory…

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Dimple on the top side of the Mitchell nib.

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The dimple filled with ink

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It works!!!

I frowned some more. I had always wondered what that damn dimple was for. The girl was correct and the only downside to this technique was that the dimple did not hold as much ink as a conventional underside reservoir, thus it needed to be filled more often. This didn’t bother me as I believed it would be an easier for beginners who struggled with the reservoir.

‘And pray tell me Charmaine, from where did you find this tip?’ I shouted up to the attic.
‘Fink it was from Instagram… fink it was Cheryl Dyer’s feed.’

I nodded to myself as I had long been an admirer of Ms Dyer’s work [website HERE] and it didn’t surprise me that she would know such useful things about the mysteries of calligraphy nibs.
I looked around my studio and feeling inspired I sat at my desk to continue working on my own little project…

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My latest masterpiece…. an extract from my favourite book.

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Dear Scarlet….

Way back in June 2011, Wendy, a regular commenter on my old Scarlet Blue blog, made the following request:-

Scarlet, could you start an agony aunt column? My friends have so many problems and I’m sure your insightful feedback would steer them in the right direction.

For example:-

I’ve got a friend in their late 50’s, very GEEKY with a real anorak, inability to button shirt in the right holes, cardigan, bum-fluff beard, bald, and knows more trivia on Dr Who than the whole Dr Who production team put together. Anyway, he’s in love with Mario (Big Brother contestant last year), and keeps on talking about it. Currently I smile and talk back as if Mario were a friend of my friend. I suspect my friend is internet stalking Mario without realising it.
what should I do? If anything.

Originally I felt overwhelmed by Wendy’s request…. who was I to deal with other people’s problems? Who am I to tell other people what to do with their lives? What do I know? And then I thought, what the hell, I’ll give it a whirl….

Dear Wendy,

Many apologies for such a tardy response. Please do not worry about your friend, he is simply ahead of his time! In 2015, it would be considered odd not to have a passing fancy for Dr Who. As for his dress sense and facial accumulation, well, again, truly ahead of his time, and it’s probable that he was one of the original Shoreditch Hipsters. If I were you I would buy a house next door to him [in Hipster areas house prices tend to go through the roof], and jot down any fashion tips that come your way. Does he now has his own lifestyle blog? Does he wax lyrical about whittling spoons beneath the stars in a Sussex woodland… and then sell them for £1,180 a pop from a stall in Old Spitalfields Market?
I’m sure that back in June 2011 your friend seemed a little incongruous, but in 2015 he fits right in!

Moving on to the Mario situation… Oh!! You mean Mario the Mole!!! Z list celebs such as Mario are created for our entertainment; I am sure they know exactly what they are getting themselves into when they sign up for the BB experience, namely financial reward and fleeting fame. After leaving the BB House they have a porthole of opportunity to cash in on their popularity before public interest wanes. Quite frankly, Mario should be grateful for your friend’s adoration.

I am assuming your friend is male? If your friend is female, and is unhappy, then perhaps a trip to her GP would be advisable? A female with a button disability is worrisome and beyond my remit, I can only suggest velcro.

Warmest Regards,

Scarlet xxx

If anyone would like to feature their problem on this blog then my email address can be found on my ‘About’ page. Thank you, I look forward to reading your dilemmas.

A Sign of Good Taste…

Another short interlude…

Here we see Darren. He is hoping to be selected as an ambassador for the Littlehampton Confectionery Display Team. He is submitting one of the finest examples of his work in their annual ‘Exposure’ competition. It is a grand affair. It is held in a disused caravan park close to Southend pier, and display enthusiasts come from far and wide to exhibit their elaborate confection. For example, competitor Annie has flown in from Amsterdam and has done something gratuitous with a fudge finger fan, whilst Gavin from Gateshead [the winner in 2006] has been imaginative with a Toffee Crisp and an artfully adapted 12 inch Twirl; Maggie, a mother of three [the winner in 1908, but never since] has chosen a minimalist/conceptual approach – her piece is entitled ‘Red Smartie with Toothpick’.

So far the judges have been less than impressed with the entrées, but Darren is confident that he can lick his rivals. Darren has a secret. Darren has balls, golden balls, and he knows how to arrange them. He waits in the wings as poor Simon, a professional kitchen fitter from Stevenage, sobs and stumbles from the judging panel after his Sherbert Fountain fails to font, and his Lion Bar goes limp.

Darren feels the tension rising – his moment has arrived, he takes a deep breath and walks into the spotlight. His golden balls are piled pyramid high upon a silver platter creating a sophisticated yet captivating display that brings the essence of Egypt to Essex. Darren stands proud. It has only taken a smidgeon of superglue to keep everything erect.

Alas, Darren is unaware of the envious Maggie who will do anything to win, and from the wings she gives Darren an almighty shove sending his nutty nibbles into orbit to splatter down upon the judges heads. Horrified, Judge Erica picks golden nuts from her hair, and exclaims, ‘With your display you are soiling us!’.

Darren hangs his head in shame, but he is not downhearted. There is always next year when he is planning an ambitious assemblage with Annie, they are hoping to cause an extravagance of good taste with a giant curly wurly and a custard cream flan.

First published on the Scarlet Blue Archive 8th January 2010 12:45 BST

Drive Sexy….

Ihave a headache this week. I am also bone idle. So I thought I would take this as an opportunity to take a brief interlude. There may be further interludes. This interlude takes the form of a re-post from 2009 – Back in the days when my face had more elastic than my knickers.

Here we see Maureen from Margate. Despite eating five pots of yoghurt a day, Maureen is still feisty and has plenty of verve. She has just stolen a wedding dress; a white dinner jacket; a picnic hamper, and a Val Doonican CD from Bhs, and is now cruising in her brand new Peugeot with the intent of snaring a man with whom she can share her booty. After turning right at the traffic lights at the top of Bromley High Street, Maureen finds herself on the A30 where she spots hitchhiker Gavin.

Gavin is an unemployed petrol pump attendant from Plymouth, seeking work on Bodmin moor. He has not been lucky. As he recovers from being knocked over by a coach load of pensioners on a day trip to Glasgow, he is attracted by the sight of Maureen’s bumpers as they are wonky and need realigning. Pleased with Gavin’s attentions, Maureen lifts her bonnet and displays her engine. Gavin is immediately drawn to her magnetic stack and her reciprocating pistons. After checking her gear head efficiency, oiling her big end, and playing with her hooters, Gavin collapses in the passenger seat and prepares for Maureen to give him the drive of his life. She does several miles down Fanny Avenue; enters Butt Hole Road; gets a bit lost in Lickfold before leading him astray in Ladygate Lane. Gavin is quite relieved when they arrive in Cardiff.

In Gretna Green, Mike, the Mexican Priest, is waiting to perform the wedding ceremony for Gavin and Maureen. He is fond of his nuptials. When they arrive he does his best Elvis impersonation, he wiggles his turbo, reaches a point of high excitation and blesses their future by writing a heartfelt message on the rear window of the now grubby 207. Finally, they are wed. And Maureen is happy that she took lessons in learning to drive sexy.

First Published on The Scarlet Blue Archive 23/09/2009 21:36 BST – but with less punctuation.

I was very peppy back then. Where has my pep gone???? I blame the adverts, they just don’t make them how they used to. Bastards.