Tag Archives: Adventures of Mike and SJ; Michael D. Griffiths

The Adventures of Mike and SJ – Episode 17

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This thread started on a forum Mike and I shared, when we started playing off each other about this alternative/fantasy persona we each gave ourselves. Since then, we’ve started writing a novel together and Mike has had a number of books published as Michael D. Griffiths (The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part I, The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part II, Eternal Aftermath) while I’ve been busy rewriting several books and establishing my Creative Writing classes at Northbrook College. But though he writes horror and I write sci fi, when we get together, we write… differently! So I thought I’d put a slice of our combined madness on my blog…

Dang it SJ

I swear that woman needs rescuing more than fifty teenagers in B rated horror movies. Oh Man now what? It looks like Edgar’s goons must have followed them here. I need to think of something quick!

Wow look at Jack going at them. Lucky thing this is England and guns are scarce. That gives him a chance to do what he does best— Fistiecuffs.

cauldronStill that leaves the monster for me. Wow, the crowd sure is going wild. Should I try to stay in character? ‘Forsooth fair maiden fear not, I ah, um, Othello MacBeth, Prince of… ah Wales, will rescue you!’

Now I just need to- Wait the cauldron. ‘Give me that. Hi there you must be the young crone. How you doin? Ergh – I’ve no time for this.’

Okay ally-op cauldron goes over the head and now. ‘Look out – here comes the battle turtle!’

Oops one problem with this plan. I can’t see a thing with this cauldron covering the upper half of my body. ‘Dang cat I….

‘…Ahh Ow! I must have fallen off the stage. Wow. That hurt.’

Which way is SJ? The goons must have found me. Ahh… they’re beating on the cauldron till I’m dizzier than a 15-year-old after their his drink.

Did I just hear an old lady scream? ‘Hey – watch it. Aren’t you smart enough to keep those little kids out of my way?

‘Don’t worry SJ I’m. Coming!’

*

At last – civilisation. Or, maybe that’s going a bit too far, seeing as we’re talking about a Premier Inn, here. But at least there’s hot running water, central heating and food we haven’t had to chase across a muddy field, kill and skin.

And I have my very own room. Away from Mike and Jack and Candleman (who is currently parked in Mike’s wardrobe). And their endless moaning about Brit weather. Like it’s MY fault.

As I kept telling them – it wasn’t my fault we were there in the first place. I wasn’t the one who insisted on taking the lead role in the Scottish Play. In those tights. Without learning the words.

Neither did I get up onto the stage and start cracking my whip everywhere and canoodling with one of the witches in the wings, after the Director came onto the stage in tears and announced that the performance was cancelled ‘due to unforeseen circumstances’.

Yeah – I did suggest that we take a Welsh cottage for a few weeks till the heat died down, tucked away in a little valley. It was advertised as ‘ideal for the holidaymaker who wants to get away from it all’. They weren’t kidding. There was no running water, just a well. And a small generator for lighting. No TV – and the reception for radio was dire. Couldn’t use mobile phones – and forget about the internet. I still maintain it was a good idea. It wasn’t MY fault about the weather. If you’ve been reading the news or watching TV, you’ll know about the floods in Wales. But you won’t have heard about our adventures. We might as well have been on the other side of the world, we were so cut off.

When I was awakened in the night by the squeaks and patter of rats running over the bed and jumped out of it into six inches of icy Floods-in-UKwater, I couldn’t call any emergency services. By the time I’d hauled on my sopping clothes, yelling that we were being flooded, the others were also surfacing. We all grabbed stuff we thought would be useful. I managed to snaffle a soggy loaf of bread, some butter and a couple of tins of tuna. Mike grabbed his teddy and a bottle of whiskey, fighting off the cat that insisted on perching on his head like some mad hat – while Jack saved his whip and a variety of sharp kitchen cutlery. Candleman just lurched through the puddles.

Half an hour later, the cottage was washed away in a coffee-coloured maelstrom that was more usually a pretty little river running through the bottom of the overgrown garden. I won’t bore you with the endless, dreadful days we spent marooned on a muddy patch of ground surrounded by swirling floodwater. Or the dreary trudge through drenched countryside, existing on various wildlife killed by Jack and CW’s cat. We even caught and roasted a swan (don’t tell the Queen…). Amongst other things. I’ve still got the upset stomach.

Till we reached civilisation, earlier today. Or rather, a Premier Inn… Where we all washed off days of mud, swan feathers, rat skins, hedgehog spines and rainwater. And ate several full English breakfasts. Each. Without speaking to each other. At all. In fact, I don’t care if I NEVER wear my eyes out on any of them, ever again…

The Adventures of Mike and SJ

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This thread started on a forum Mike and I shared, when we started playing off each other about this alternative/fantasy persona we each gave ourselves. Since then, we’ve started writing a novel together and Mike has had a number of books published as Michael D. Griffiths (The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part I, The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part II, Eternal Aftermath) while I’ve been busy rewriting several books and establishing my Creative Writing classes at Northbrook College. But though he writes horror and I write sci fi, when we get together, we write… differently! So I thought I’d put a slice of our combined madness on my blog…

Great.

I manage to sneak out of this crazy castle, but now I have no idea, uh oh! Sounds like they released the dogs or in this case maybe wolves on me.

Must think of something. I’ll put on my speaker phone, just in case there is a chance someone can help me. * pant, pant* “this sure does suck.” * Pant pant* sounds like those hounds are getting closer. Wait there are a bunch of people over there, maybe I can blend in.”

“Boy these folks sure are dressed weird. Is this a costume party or something. I better slip in the back door. Wait why is this guy macbethsuddenly coming up to me. Play it cool bony.”

“Oh, good fellow, there you are. It is about time you got here. I say, we were starting to worry you wouldn’t show.”

“Wouldn’t show?”

“Yes, yes, but no time to waste now. You go on in a few minutes.”

“Go on?”

“But of course, now I hope you have studied your lines. MacBeth is a very complex role. The witches are almost done doing their little Hecate dance and you will need to get out there on stage momentarily.”

“MacBeth. Show. Stage. Get out there?” *Groan* “oh no! oh no! OH NO! This is like a nightmare, no wait, this is a nightmare. Maybe I should try to outrun the dogs again – there were only 20 of them…

Oh man they want me to wear tights. Oh no! Oh no! I don’t remember my lines, Heck, I never knew my lines. They are pushing me out on stage…Oh no! Oh no! OH NO!!!!”

“SJ help! I wish I was still locked in the castle, being tortured would have been better than thissssssss!”

*

Yeah. You’ll love it… Are there fights? Yep. And murders. And battles. You bet – the Scottish play is brimming with bloodshed and grief. And while we’re snugged up here in the theatre, Edgar and his men can’t track us down. Besides, you’re a Yank. It’s the done thing. When you visit England, you have to see a Shakespeare play. Last six times I’ve been to the theatre, I’ve ended up sitting next to Americans. Here you are – front row seat – what could be better than that?

theatreBesides, during the interval you can down a pint. I’ll even buy you an ice cream – how about that? Honestly, Jack – if you don’t stop scowling and grumbling under your breath, I’m going to sic Dahtoe onto you and encourage him to drop another cat onto your head-

Hey! Joke! C’mon. Get out from under the seat – people are looking… Oh – here we go – the lights are going down…

Hubble, bubble toil and trouble… Ooo I love this bit – gives me goose pimples… Just a minute-

Ow- yeah, Jack. Don’t need to jab me in the ribs. I see it. Dahtoe’s cat. Prowling around the stage… Oh no – it’s jumped into the cauldron… Hope that isn’t real steam – this is England, the audience won’t be happy to watch Kitty getting stewed onstage… Could cause a riot.

Jack! Come back-

Idiot’s jumped onto the stage! Here we go again – Jack causing a big old commotion. We’ll be chucked out at this rate. After me shelling out for those expensive tickets…

Oh well – least he’s now gotten hold of that cat. Whose making really nasty retching sounds- Eww. Glad I’m not the one holding it… The fleabag has just sicked up the plastic eye of newt and toe of frog he ate after jumping into the cauldron. All down Jack’s home-cured leather trousers…

The audience are laughing – and applauding. Seem to think it’s part of the show. Still, don’t s’pose they know any better, mostly being American tourists…

It’s not a particularly good production, anyhow- That actor whose just staggered on as Macbeth looks like he’s forgotten his lines, already. And he hasn’t even started. Mmm… There are some men who look just FINE in tights, aren’t there? And this chap isn’t one of them. Hang on – I’d know those knobbly knees anywhere – Mike?? WHAT is Mike doing trying to act as Macbeth? He clearly hasn’t got a clue.

Why is CW’s cat jumping into Mike’s arms, spitting and squalling at something in the wings? And now the witches are staring and backing away. This really isn’t on, you know. I’m going to complain. These seats weren’t cheap. They’ve all run off the stage – what about the keynote scene where they talk to Macbeth and prophesy-

Oh.

Candleman has just shuffled onto the stage. Goodness, he’s big! Well, at least the audience are impressed. He’s just gotten a standing ovation. People are on their feet, clapping and whistling. Except for the intelligent few who are backing towards the Exit… You know, Little Wax Head Boy always did strike me as a bit creepy – well, a LOT creepy, really.

But not nearly as creepy as Candleman, here… oh-oh. He’s looking in my direction. Well – he would be looking if he had eyes.

Ahh – put… me… down… You rotten lump of wax, you! What – WHY are the audience laughing and clapping? I’m draped over Candleman’s shoulder like a sack of corn – and these idiots think it’s FUNNY??? The bard would be spinning in his grave-

No, Jack, put your whip away – I said BARD, not bird. Dahtoe won’t be anywhere inside a theatre. Use your brain… And now this lot are applauding Jack cracking his whip… Who is now taking a bow.

And now, Mike is giving a speech… ‘Is this a dagger I see before me? No – it’s Hecate’s eerie Candleman come to haunt us.’

WHAT!! Shakespeare never wrote that! It doesn’t even scan! It’s-

‘To be or not to be, that is the question-‘

That’s not even the right play! This is rape and pillage of my cultural heritage as an Englishwoman! I can’t listen any more. I’m just going to put my hands over my ears, hum under my breath and try and pretend that is all a very bad dream…
END OF EPISODE 16.

The Adventures of Mike and SJ – Episode 15

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This thread started on a forum Mike and I shared, when we started playing off each other about this alternative/fantasy persona we each gave ourselves. Since then, we’ve started writing a novel together and Mike has had a number of books published as Michael D. Griffiths (The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part I, The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part II, Eternal Aftermath) while I’ve been busy rewriting several books and establishing my Creative Writing classes at Northbrook College. But though he writes horror and I write sci fi, when we get together, we write… differently! So I thought I’d put a slice of our combined madness on my blog…

Ow… My head…

chepstowImprisoned again. It’s sad that I’m starting to get used to this. They took all my weapons, but did they put me in the same cell? Ha- I guess they did, Suckers! I still have the key those dumba-

Wait who’s that coming in? Are they bringing me something to eat? Oh, Flippin’ Norah, it is the bughead Edgar again! I’m start to really hate this Son of a-

“Mr Griffiths, or should I say Bone – that is your warrior name isn’t it?”

“I prefer to think of it as my superhero name.”

“Superhero? Oh never mind, you and your foolish friends manage to make Scoobie Doo look like James Bond.”

“Ha! We messed up your dining room pretty good didn’t we and-“

“Silence fool! That will be the last expensive dish you ever break. The immature Thingthatmustnotbenamed has metamorphosed past the stage where it needs a host. Usually they eat their host, but in this case we have other plans for you.”

“What happened to my baby?”

“Baby,” *cough, sputter* “He is a madman! I want him gone. His usefulness is over. If someone else can find a way to deal with his idiocy, let it be their problem. I’m washing my hands of this. Goodnight, Mr. Bone – and may Evil follow your days and nights. We probably won’t meet again, I am done with your purile babbling.”

“Well, may you be strapped over an anthill on a sunny day you fish-bellied freak!”
At last he is gone. Didn’t so much as offer me a glass of water. Still, it doesn’t matter. He he he. I don’t even need Dahtoe this time – I have the key. Those morons! Now to escape and track down SJ and Jack.

*

Oh, WILL you stop moaning? Honestly, Jack – I thought you’d be grateful. We managed to sneak out of the castle while they were busy taking Mike off to the cells – but you got to blend in more. We don’t get all that many men wandering around these streets in buckskin leather-

Oh great… Now he’s got a face on him that would curdle vinegar and is marching up the street. I WISH we had Mike here. He has his off-moments, but he’s a walk in the park in comparison to Mr Wimmin-should-know-their-place…

Oh look. That speck over there…

Is that Dahtoe returning? Gosh, that didn’t take him long. He’s making a dreadful noise, though. Sounds like a half-strangled cat… Oh no… no, no NO. It IS a half-strangled cat! That idiot seagull! He was s’posed to deliver a note, threatening Edgar that we’d take his cat if cat_black_cat_pet_214496he didn’t instruct his goons to release Mike… Not grab the moggy and make off with it!

Jack. Look out! Dahtoe is above you and he’s diving-

Ouch. That MUST hurt. A furious cat landing on his head, like that. Hold onto it, Jack – don’t let it get away!

Too late… Hm. Hope the fleabit bag of fluff hasn’t got any nasty American diseases, seeing as he’s now loose in the streets of Chepstow…

Huh? Yeah – well I am sorry it landed on your head… Hey, just a minute – HOW is this my fault?

It was a perfectly good plan! How did I know that the stupid seagull would take it into his peabrain to grab the wretched cat?

Oh, for goodness sake! Trouble with you is that you’ve been spending far too much time listening to Mike’s hysterical ranting about Edgar and his fights with him. Hear HIM talk, you’d think that he was some mega-scary master-thinker who is five steps ahead of the rest of us sad proles. For starters, he’s tucked up in his draughty old castle. Calm down. C’mon, buddy. Deep breaths. I know – why don’t we catch a show? You’ll love it… Take your mind off our troubles. And then we’ll work out how to get Mike out of that dratted castle.

The Adventures of Mike and SJ – Episode 14

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This thread started on a forum Mike and I shared, when we started playing off each other about this alternative/fantasy persona we each gave ourselves. Since then, we’ve started writing a novel together and Mike has had a number of books published as Michael D. Griffiths (The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part I, The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part II, Eternal Aftermath) while I’ve been busy rewriting several books and establishing my Creative Writing classes at Northbrook College. But though he writes horror and I write sci fi, when we get together, we write… differently! So I thought I’d put a slice of our combined madness on my blog…

What I feel funny, but in a good way, like a five hundred pound weight has been lifted from my shoulders or maybe my brain!

Huh, what is that black glob of Cuthuhlu nastiness! SJ is screaming for me to control it. Oh man, it is going for the candles and making a real mess, I might add. Everyone is freaking out. The MIBs are drawing weird looking guns, I think Jack is shoving steak knives into his jacket.

I don’t care. That is the thing that was controlling me, making me hurt SJ. Screw that thing, screw everything else. I need to get away from it!

SJ and Jack are on the other side of the table. Oh wow the MIBs are opening up on the thing- why is SJ trying to save the crystal?

Oh this is it. I need to leap over the table to get to them. Oh wow that made a mess. Sheesh that gravy got everywhere. I hope that wasn’t that woman’s favorite white dress.

Oh quit it SJ! Remember they are evil. They deserve what they get. Come on we have to go while LWHB is distracting them. Wow look at Jack go with those knives. Yeah, give me a few.

We have to get out of here, before it reattaches— oh no it is coming after me! Look how huge it is now -I don’t want it back on MEEEEE!

Its coming! RUN RUN!

*

Jack! Psttt! Over here! Jack – will you stop flinging those steak knives around? Get behind this curtain RIGHT NOW! Because if you don’t – it could be curtains for Mike.

No… Mike isn’t behind the curtains – Look! He’s over there. Surrounded by that posse of MIB.candles

Yeah – I know there’s too many of them. But Little Wax-

I think we need a new name for him, frankly. I mean – Little Wax Head Boy might have been appropriate for the days when he was this cute little co-worker of Scotty’s, another lifetime ago. But just look at him… He’s now the size of a medium sized man. Can you imagine him now crawling back into poor old Mike’s hair? Let’s call him Candleman!

I’m not sure if he’s on our side, but he certainly isn’t on theirs. On account of Edgar getting upset when he started grabbing the candles and eating them – and making a right old mess of the table as a result. But of course the idiots thought it was all Mike’s fault. Ooo – that looks painful! Having all that wax jumping up and down on him must hurt – and of course it’s ruining his suit.

But – no, listen, Jack! This is REALLY important. While you were busy stabbing those guys who are leaking onto the carpet – that’ll cost a fortune to clean – I overheard Edgar phoning someone for instructions. You’ll never guess – it’s Miss Snodgrass! Question is, is she really an evil genius – or has she been somehow bamboozled by the baddies? She has instructed for Mike to be bundled up in chains and sent back to the States! We can’t let that happen – he hasn’t seen Buckingham Palace yet! We don’t want that, do we?

Think – Jack! What can we do to defeat Miss Snodgrass’s wicked machinations?

The Adventures of Mike and SJ – Episode 13

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This thread started on a forum Mike and I shared, when we started playing off each other about this alternative/fantasy persona we each gave ourselves. Since then, we’ve started writing a novel together and Mike has had a number of books published as Michael D. Griffiths (The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part I, The Chronicles of Jack Primus, Part II, Eternal Aftermath) while I’ve been busy rewriting several books and establishing my Creative Writing classes at Northbrook College. But though he writes horror and I write sci fi, when we get together, we write… differently! So I thought I’d put a slice of our combined madness on my blog…

Oh dear, we are heading back to the castle I so recently escaped from. Oh my. At least Dahtoe is free. I wonder if he can get help?

Oh. The driver says we are being invited to dinner, along with the twenty MIB that are surrounding us. Jack and I finally share a laugh while we watch SJ preparing herself for the dinner.

‘One should always look their best for a proper formal meal. This man could be a Count or perhaps a Duke. I wonder if he’s married?’

‘He’s evil,’ Jack reminds her.

‘He’s probably loaded then, isn’t he?’ SJ continues to instruct us on proper manners with a zeal equal to her earlier cursing. I groan as we were finally led into the banquet hall.

***

I just HATE it when Mike puts words in my mouth, like that. And now, they’re CURSE words! As if I would let Aunt Gertrude down like that!

And it’s no good Mike and Jack rolling their eyes and making sarky comments when I gave them a crash course in table manners – theydining-etiquette-tips-M3_Q1_267 surely need it. Mike is just about on nodding terms with basic cutlery when he’s on his own – but get Jack sitting across the table and he just REVERTS. Ever watched a 2 year old eating a banana? Well, that’s more or less the level of finesse that the Dining Duo demonstrate when demolishing their food.

Oh no… Just look at this Banqueting Hall – the long table adorned with acres of crisp white damask tablecloth. Solid silver candlesticks loaded with white candles; their flickering light ricocheting off the glittering crystalware and shining ranks of cutlery. Oh my… look at this – soup spoons, fish knives and forks, main course, cheese knives. Ooo – and the napkins are folded into swans!

Wish I was wearing a nice dress… Aunt Gertrude would LOVE this. And the man seated to my right looks very… smooth. It’s always nice to see a man wearing a really well-fitted suit. Mmm like his aftershave. Trouble is – I’ve Jack sitting on my left. And is he excited or impressed with all this?

No – he’s got that scrunched look on his face – you know – like the grumpy garden gnome with the fishing rod who never catches anything… ‘Know what this fuss all means,’ he mumbles, jerking his head at the table. ‘Means they gonna muck ’bout with the chow. They’ll be spendin’ aller time bringin’ fancy-antsy stuff on plates. Two chews an’ it’ll be gone. Can’t ‘bide my chow bein messed with…’

Oh dear… I have a BAD feeling about this meal. ‘Please Jack, don’t do anything, now… Let’s make a good impression.’

‘Wanna make up yer min’ which side yer on, wimmin,’ he growls.

Here comes the starter… Ooo – caviar – yum! On waver-thin toast you can almost see through! Mm…

‘See? I tol yer. Fish eggs! That’s not gonna keep a man goin’, is it now?’

Oh no… Oh – Mike! Pstttt! Stop Little Wax Head Boy! He’s sliding out of your hair and making for the candles. And now he’s upset the wine cooler… Oh – I could just slide under the table from embarrassment! Let’s hope this doesn’t get any worse…