You're a Woman and I'm a Machine

[Lochie_old]

 

You're a Woman and I'm a Machine

It's all in the wiring baby, you know that our electricity is crazy for each other.

<3

My Co-Employee Sam

Guardian

I Believe in Harvey Dent

Love Rhymes with Pity Now

Romantic Rights

Coming Soon

Edited July 30, 2008 by ~PhusioN~

[Lochie_old]

<3

• Codec’s, manuals and instruction book littered his desk. The sounds the tapping of his keyboard made sounded like a machine gun set on rapid fire. He stroked the keys as he hit the space bar in succession. He had all the algorithms set, he had the graphs set up; vertical, horizontal and pie. He had the statistics all laid out in an Excel spreadsheet. All the data was right, but there was one thing just missing.

 

The program wouldn’t compile. Every time he dashed a semi-colon into the lines of program to signal the end of a small segment of coding, he’d hit run; but the whole program just wouldn’t start up. He didn’t understand it. He let out a sigh and kicked his desk; the momentum sent him on a tiny twirl on his chair. He leaned back into his leather chair as he let the spin carry him around his surroundings. Pizza boxes and empty cans littered the room; he hadn’t left the chair for over a month.

 

His legs felt tired, he had barely walked from his nest to the bathroom, only once a day to shower and maybe relieve himself, but other then that he was just strapped to his throne. He had started his crusade over 6 months ago; he was a martyr for his cause, as the physical signs could tell. He was gaining some weight in his gut; his long locks of hair could easily be torn out with even the gentlest of touch.

 

He tried to stand up, but his legs gave way and he collapsed back into the chair, he let out a moan and slumped down into his only life support, the chair had supported him since he had first learnt coding. Pages of Delphi help documents were scattered across the room, as manual upon manual of Pearl instruction guides stacked up above him.

 

He looked at the coding, it all seemed wrong. All typed in vein, he clicked ‘run’ again, the program had a logic error;

 

“Internal error, <3 cannot configure.”

 

“f*ck.” He whispered as he hit the monitor, the screen shook as the colours warped themselves for a few seconds before turning back to normal. He gave up.

 

He could never program love.

Edited July 27, 2008 by ~PhusioN~

[Lochie_old]

 

My Co-Employee, Sam

He’d always grab a scanning gun and a holster as he came streaming out of the sales room with a wide grin on his face.

 

Sam’s way of humour would be to then point that gun at you and say in “I’m watching you.” He was just that kind of guy, the office idiot that everyone hated or felt sorry for. His way of dealing with customers was the same way he managed to stock the shelves, he didn’t. Sam would run out the back and occupy himself with something so easy, but he’d manage to make the task look impossible.

 

The bosses didn’t want to fire him, no, that would be too mean to fire a ‘retard’, but his work ethic was slowly slacking and they soon wouldn’t have any choice. I saw Sam the day before the managers decided it was time to let him slip, he had that same stupid grin on his face and held the gun up to me,

 

“Don’t move!” he laughed and slid the gun back into the holster.

I gave him a sympathy laugh, “How’s it going Sam?”

“I’m pretty good thanks Dave, the managers want to see me for a big meeting tomorrow, I think they want me to become one of them.” He gave me the thumbs up and grinned, a smirk crawled across my face. No matter how depressing it was to see how oblivious Sam was to the fact he was getting fired; it was his ignorance which was what made it so much harder not to laugh in the first place.

“Good luck with that buddy.” I turned my back and walked back to the paint counter.

 

They said Sam went peacefully, he didn’t cry, he didn’t scream and yell. He just stood up and shook each of the managers hands, grabbed his coat and left. It was sad to see Sam go; he always managed to cheer me up even if I had a bad day with customers.

We didn’t get a new replacement for awhile until a new kid named Jack came in. He was average silent teenager and didn’t really talk that much, unlike Sam.

 

One day I grabbed a scanning gun and pointed it at Murray;

“Hands up!” I giggled as I pressed the trigger, a small red glow illuminated Murray’s shirt for a second then disappeared. Murray chuckled;

“Oh Dave, you’re such a clown.”

 

And soon I found myself carrying that gun everywhere, and at every opportunity I would point it at someone and make some sort of joke. I got the reactions I wanted, people laughed and I felt better about myself. Soon the work load was getting too much and instead of trying to help customers and show Jack the ropes, I found myself out the back trying to make even the smaller tasks go for longer. I hated the place, but I still kept that clown attitude up, to lift morale when it was low.

 

One day the managers wanted to see me, Jack walked past carrying some new stock to put on the shelves; I grabbed the scanning gun and aimed it at him.

“Stop right there!” I grinned. Jack let out a slight chuckle,

“How’s it going Dave?” he asked.

“I’m pretty good thanks Jack, the managers want to see me tomorrow, I think they want me to become one of them.” I gave him the thumbs up and flicked another cheesy grin.

“Good luck with that buddy.” He turned his back and walked away.

 

I arrived early and walked into the sales office, how could I accept this title bestowed upon me? I couldn’t, I just knew I couldn’t. I’d have to reject them kindly. Hugh walked in followed by Caitlin.

 

“Ahh Dave, you’re early,” Hugh let out a weak smile and sat down, he motioned for me to take a seat as well. I kindly obliged. He continued; “Dave… We’re going to get straight down to business, you never do any work. You hide from customers; you haven’t even shown Jack half of his job yet. Your performance is slipping and all you do is make stupid jokes with the scanning gun. Were cutting you loose.”

 

The words were music to my ears; I stood up and shook Hugh’s hand. I shook Caitlin’s hand as well then grabbed my coat and left.

 

It was a good feeling to be free, now I know how Sam felt.

Edited July 18, 2008 by ~PhusioN~

[Struff Bunstridge]

I much preferred <3 to My Co-employee Sam, although they were both great pieces of writing.

 

<3 reminded me of this:

 

 

It's a great sentiment, and it's a great reflection on you as a writer that you can develop just one simple idea into a story, however short. I'd have liked to have seen more about the programmer's background - was there anything to spur him on in his crusade? There needs to be a little more substance.

 

My Co-employee Sam was a similar premise, just wasn't as strong in its foundation.

 

I do like them both, though.

[Lochie_old]

Hahaha, I've seen that. xckd is pretty cool. I think that fact that there is a mystery behind his motives of why he is trying to program love is what I enjoyed about writing it, as it leaves the reader guessing.

 

It's a short story I'm likely going to continue. But as for now expect another story up by Monday.

 

~Phusion

[Lochie_old]

Guardian

• I use to prank call his mobile as I sat in the car watching him from across the road. He’d walk up and down the street muttering to him self as his face would turn red in embarrassment. He would tap his phone up against his lip; a habit he developed as child. He'd wait for another call from this mystery girl. I would dial his number and just before I saw him flip open and answer, I'd hang up.

 

He’d sit down in the gutter for about ten minutes before sighing and then decide whether to visit his friends or catch the 109 home. I’d drive the car back to our house and wait inside the kitchen. He’d storm upstairs in fury and not talk to anyone until dinner; in another 2 weeks I’d find a new picture and create a brand new girl with interests just like his and chat to him.

 

I had to show him all girls were cruel, I had to protect him from the harsh reality that all women really want is money and someone to drag around on a chain. My way of showing him was mean, but if he finally gave up on girls then he could focus on more important things like his homework, his hobbies and maybe even his future. If I could steer him away from women all together then my job would be complete.

 

Call me crazy, call me weird. I’m just a mother who loves her son.

Edited July 20, 2008 by ~PhusioN~

[Chickstick]

You really are good at short stories. Update sooner rather than later, please.

[Lochie_old]

 

I Believe in Harvey Dent

• I don’t understand the whole deal with the intelligence structure, so sometimes I get a little bored and edit Wikipedia articles. That’ll teach those f*cks that are too lazy to pick up a book and read. I guess I see it my job to bring down society, one article at a time.

 

Sometimes I’ll go for scientific ones; ‘The cell is the structural and functional unit of all known living organisms’ becomes ‘The cell is a f*ckual and f*cktional unit of all known living orgasms.’ You see, I’m bringing down grades one at a time; I’m doing the future politicians a favour by casting out those who research and those who don’t. I consider it my job to weed those lazy f*cks out.

 

The whole system is f*cked; all the stuff you’re supposed to like usually sucks. I’m sick of watching my TV and being told if I buy that deodorant, some scantly-clad slut is going to grind herself on me because of my scent.

 

That’s not all, I break into peoples houses but I don’t steal anything. I walk around; re-arrange a little furniture and maybe use the toilet. One time I even made a family an amazing lamb roast, glazed with rosemary and honey. I lit some candles, pulled out the fine china and just left it there sitting on the table, all ready for the man of the house to carve that plump piece of meat.

 

I got really drunk and walked down to the local school, with a bottle of whiskey clutched in my hand I yelled at the kids on the field ‘f*ck YOUR POLITICS, YOU RETARDED LITTLE sh*tS WILL BE DEAD IN A FEW YEARS FROM CANCER IF THE ARABS DON’T GET YOU.’ I don’t watch the news anymore, I make the news. My mum usually rings and says ‘Was that you who just smashed 50 brand new car windows?’ she’s a proud parent.

 

I get a little crazy, I’ll buy some bumper stickers saying ‘I support Gay Marriage’ and go to an anti-gay sermon; and whilst all the strict Christian believers are inside picketing to the wrong tune, I’m slamming these bad boys onto windscreens, bumps and bonnets. I pull out a switchblade and stab away at their tires then maybe I’ll find an unlocked car and piss all over the seat.

 

See, I’m not a fan of those who are dishonest and lie to the public, so I’m not a fan of politics. The only way I express myself is a Molotov cocktail through the nearest Liberal members window; I guess fire is the quickest way to get a message to a man, especially when half of that mans face burns off like something out of a movie.

 

The only slogan that will ever make sense to me is ‘I Believe in Harvey Dent’.

[Struff Bunstridge]

'Guardian' is f*cked up. Shoulda been longer, dude, I was enjoying it.

[Lochie_old]

Haha, it was a really fun piece to write.

 

Do do do, won't be updating until Friday at the latest. I'm hoping some creative juices flow and I release the story I'm most proud of. Stay tuned,

 

~Phusion

[Warplay3r]

I like your stories. Everytime I read them, I can help but have a smile across my face.

[mark-2007]

I liked all of them, really. Already spoke about the first two, but Guardian was also excellent and, as Struff said, could have done with being lengthened. I Believe in Harvey Dent was probably my favourite so far, more for the funny side of it though, but just a tip - capitals always seem out of place to me in a story, maybe bold or italics would be better.

 

In order...

 

- I Believe in Harvey Dent

- Guardian

- My Co-Employee, Sam (probably level pegging with Guardian)

- <3

 

Looking forward to your next story.

[Ronmar The Only]

So, I'm guessing that was the "Batman" inspired piece, right?

 

Good job there, laddy. Anyways, I'll give the others a proper readin' tomorrow.

[Lochie_old]

Love Rhymes with Pity Now

• "Doctor, look at those tire tracks, his chest might cave in on his lungs any second now." is all I heard the nurse say as I lost consciousness. I don't remember much of what happened last night, but the doctor reassures me I flew eight goddamn meters out of my windshield and then got run over by a light-compact sports car, crushing my ribs and leaving tire marks on my chest, which is why every time my mother comes in I cover my torso up with the sheets so she doesn't wince in shock and scream and cry, the doctor said with a few skin graft treatments the whole problem should be fixed. She soon stopped coming in and the only person who came to visit me was Jane.

 

The police statement said I was at Mickey's, a well-known nightclub down town. I remember the sole reason why I was there, to leave Jane. I met her four years ago today, she was dancing away at some vomit-stained frat party. After a few beers boosted my charisma, I marched over determined to get this girls number and maybe some other treats. Her red gown swayed as if it was on fire in the flashing disco lights, her brown hair shock furiously from side to side and her, well as quoted by my friend Kevin "violent gypsy dance". I introduced myself, Daniel Bitterman, but my friends call me 'Bitter', no, this isn't derived from my last name but for the reason that I only drink 4X Bitter, a beer imported from my homeland, Australia. I wasn't too sure whether it was my Australian accent or my keen fashion sense, but we hit it off. She suggested we go somewhere quieter, so we went back to hers. She lived in a studio apartment overlooking Chicago city, I got inside and took off my jacket, I turned around to see Jane sliding out of her dress and standing bare-naked leaning up against the door, she slithered up against me and whispered into my ear,

 

"Do you want me?" teasingly, kissing my neck. I felt her up, she was so free just like a pineapple tree swaying in the breeze,

 

She felt the bulge in my pants and started to unbuckle my belt, I stopped her;

"Its dangerous to be so intimate." she was impressed,

"Alright, we'll take it slow pick me up tomorrow at 7." she shut the door on me and I walked the streets until I heard the hum and saw the glow of a faithful yellow taxi which would take me home.

 

The next four years was casual dating, on and off. But I started wanting something more serious, she wasn't too interested and said she wanted to finish off her medical degree before she found a relationship, I didn't want to wait. I wanted something real now. Her figure had started to drop and I guess it was sort of shallow of me, but she began to pile on the pounds. I traded her in like some old sports car for a better brand, a girl with fake porno tits and a lock on her lips. She used a lot of fake tan and was a skinny little thing with blonde hair, her name was Megan, she was a 20 year old secretary who had already been married but said things didn't go too well. Judging by her BMW and the size of her house, I like to think things went extremely well. I called Jane to tell her to meet me at Mickey's.

 

We argued on the footpath, I finally told her I wanted something more, a tear fell from her eye and she pulled a small jewellery box out of her bag and threw it at my chest, my stomach dropped. It was an engagement ring. I wished her better luck in the future, got into my car and drove down the highway. Little to my knowledge some young youths had deflated my car tire and I spun out of control when I hit 100, I slammed into the traffic divider and then a semi-trailer ploughed into my car. I flew out of the windshield and hit the harsh gravel as I lay there trying to recover, a car came skidding to a halt, but with no avail trampled me then smashed into the burning carcass of my car. Fire and glass surrounded me as more cars piled up around me; the firemen pulled me out of the wreckage. I had some serious head wounds that when they asked me for my name I couldn't remember it.

 

But back at the hospital, when no one comes to visit me anymore, Jane arrives when I'm asleep, that red gown was always on fire.

 

She met her new man after the week I had left her, turned out he was just some lowly garbage collector. He lived in some beer-soaked apartment with pizza crusts and porno mags lying around; he talked her out of that red gown and did all the things I had been waiting for, the things I said I never wanted. On the night of the accident I think God was playing a joke on me, those red and blue lights were laughing at my skull, yesterday my burden was given a name, yesterday my burden was given a face.

Edited July 24, 2008 by ~PhusioN~

[Lochie_old]

Sorry for the double post, but I didn't want to clog any of the stories up with pointless information.

 

Your all thinking this is the end, Phusion said 5 stories. But its not, this story is just a filler, an old story I posted awhile back that many people didn't really see. I'm really disappointed with myself as I couldn't write the big story I really want to write, but its coming soon.

 

I'll be posting a few more short stories just to tide you guys over until I'm satisfied with what I've done.

 

~Phusion

[Lochie_old]

You're a Woman and I'm a Machine

• She never understood what happened to him. One day he just got up and left. He was a famous pianist of some sort; he would travel the world and would always come home with a brown leather suitcase clutched in one hand as his hat dangled in the other. He’d drop to his knees and hug his daughter, and soon lift the love of his life up high. The embrace of her fathers love was something that made her feel invincible.

 

Whenever he went out on tour, she would always come home from school and sit in her father’s favourite chair; and wait for him to come back. She had fond memories of her father sitting on the old amber-coloured stool as she would take reign on his lap; he’d cover her tiny little paws with his massive hands and play duets with her on the large mechanical contraption that was her fathers’ favourite piano. It soon would become just her furiously playing away trying to replace the void in her life after her father left.

 

On the day her father didn’t come home, she wouldn’t move from the chair for days. They had to pry her from the chair that her father had so fondly sat in on a hot summer’s day and watched his young daughter play. She was heartbroken; but she learnt to move on, and soon the old un-used piano that was gathering cobwebs in the corner of the living room was bought back to life again with a simple touch, she was now in control of her father’s favourite piano.

 

She would sit at the piano for hours upon hours trying to perfect every perfect piece that she had heard her father play so fluently and so carelessly. But with such raw emotion and great passion that would inspire those in earshot to learn to enjoy the company around them and how lucky and unique each everyone of them was.

 

Soon her skills far succeeded those of her fathers. She had given up hope on ever finding him again. Her relationship with music grew, and so was that with her father’s piano. To the masses it was just something they would only experience once, a musical event that would bring awe to all those who witnessed her wild skills in action. She slaved herself to the old rickety thing, pounding away at the small ivory buttons creating such sweet music.

 

But to her it was just tugging of the strings, mechanical keys locking in with mechanisms that created sound; she saw her playing just as faulty techniques or loose notes, in her eyes she would never be like her father. She was the woman, the piano was the machine.

Edited July 27, 2008 by ~PhusioN~

[Warplay3r]

Aw. I feel kinda bad. The girl always wanted to be like her father, but she never good cause the way she played the keys. Makes me wanna . Good story though. Please tell me, this isn't the last one, right?

[Gabriel Constantin]

You have a lot of talent. Amazing. I just read each of your stories and each one was almost breath-taking. The way you write just flows together so perfectly and you tell a story that is as mesmerizing as a flower floating in the breeze. I hope you have plans for more short stories, because I would really like to read some more of your work.

[Ronmar The Only]

Guardian was pretty funny. I had been thinking of making a topic for all my shorts, but didn't know if it would go over well enough. I'll probably make my own topic, follow in your footsteps...somewhat. Maybe the topic will also lead to other, longer stories.

 

Anyways, keep up the good work.

[Gabriel Constantin]

I personally, like the idea of a single topic for a writer's short stories; an anthology almost. It makes them a lot more open to being read if you're bumping the topic with other stories rather than useless posts. I was thinking of making one myself for a collection of horror shorts and skits.

[Lochie_old]

I am going to continue this project for sure. Its enjoyable, thank you guys all for the kind words and inspiration. Please keep doing what your doing here, around the forums and your day-to-day life.

 

~Phusion

[Lochie_old]

Romantic Rights Pt. I

“Please walk onto the boat, do not stop for anything. No pushing or shoving, everyone will get a space.” The voice boomed over the speaker; I shuffled slowly over the concrete with the crowd as we made our way towards the large rustic ship that was going to take us away from our worries.

 

But it didn’t; as the boat overshadowed the small tsunami of moving people we were attacked. This mystery enemy was something the government had warned us about for weeks. “Don’t panic, scientists are figuring out a way to battle this one way or another. Please remain calm and do not go outside your homes. Further updates shall be given.” It was a good joke, the politicians and scientists where the first to leave. It didn’t bring much calm to the city when the inhabitants found out that they had been lied too and ditched, riots soon followed as the town hall was burnt to the ground. Order was bought to the town by the police as they quickly evacuated everyone; we were the last boat that was leaving.

 

As the boat exploded, I ran backwards through the crowd. Pushing people down or trying to drag them with me. But none of them seemed to realise what was actually happening. I screamed at them, but they all just shuffled towards the boat. Until one girl ran with me; her brown hair flowed behind in the wind as her legs pumped up and down.

 

We ran off the bridge and turned around as we watched the wharf collapse; people screamed and tried to stay a float. But it was just utter chaos. I grabbed her hand and pulled her close; so much beauty could never exist in just one person.

 

“What are we running from?” I looked into her eyes; she stared back at me and kissed me. We locked tongues and then she pulled away.

“Ourselves.”

Edited July 30, 2008 by ~PhusioN~

[Carbine23]

The Harvey Dent story is very good, and true. Even though i'm one of those kids who goes on wikipedia for information. Some of your stories i don't get with all the calculus and math like the first one. I get your stories like Guardian, i believe in Harvey Dent and i partially get Romantic Rights Part 1

 

I think your writing is excellent though. Continue dear Phusion

[Juice By Kayla Marie]

death from above 1979.

Great Band.

[Lochie_old]

Placed on hold for a new project, I'll update with short stories when this project is over.

 

~Phusion