Tag Archives: The Adventures of Mike & SJ

The Adventures of Mike and SJ – Episode 12

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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…

Honestly. It’s enough to make a woman give up and go home! Except that half the Met police force will be double-parked outside my little cottage, waiting for us to show up…

I mean – how often do you get the producer of Dr Who make an offer of employment? It could’ve been a real opportunity.

londonstreetBut no – Jack has to attempt to shove the soundman’s big fluffy mic up the guy’s left nostril. And why? Because when the bloke offered Jack Billy Piper’s autograph, Jack figured that Billy was a boy – and to use his own words, ‘Figured the durn waste’ve skin an’ air took me fer some kinda homo that were lookin’ fer company. An’ I ain’t standin’ fer that kinda insult.’

As I mentioned to Jack at the top of my voice – no one would mistake him for a homo sapien anytime soon, if he went on behaving like a snake-bit seagull. He and Dahtoe make a pair and that’s a fact. I ALSO pointed out that if he was feeling quite so protective of his manhood, then maybe he should reconsider wearing those leather trousers. They might be good at keeping out the dust and wind in the American panhandle – but they make quite a different fashion statement on the streets of London…

So now he’s stomping around with a face blacker than a thunderstorm and muttering under his breath about ‘wimmin not knowin’ their place these days…’

Meanwhile, Mike is fluttering around Jack with remarks like, ‘C’mon buddy. You know SJ. All bark and no bite. She didn’t mean it, pal…’ Stuff like that… Way to go, Mike. Nice to know I can count on you for backup in a tight spot.

So – I’ve done all I can. I tried to get us away without any fuss – but Dahtoe trashing the Food Hall in Harrods put paid to that scheme. And now, Jack’s messed up this chance to stay safe AND earn us some much-needed cash.

And it’s no good Mike patting me on the shoulder and telling me it’ll be fine. Cos I’ve seen him looking at all those creepy guys hanging around outside the pub. Which we’re going to have to leave right now. Or have Jack arrested for assault with a deadly weapon – the big fluffy mic.

Right *deep breath and hands in pockets like I don’t care if I’m about to die* Hang on – what’s this? Oh, it’s the gem I found stuck to the bottom of my jeans. I wonder whether it-

Oh – I just HATE it when Mike’s hair does that…

Little Wax Head Boy? Is that you? Goodness – haven’t you grown! You want – what? The gem – no! We’ve got to take it back to Her Majesty. No – you can’t have it. It’s property of the Crown! You make Her Majesty mad – and you’ll be SO sorry. She’ll pinch her lips together and look disapproving and the Beefeaters will march you off to the Houses of Parliament and you’ll be doomed to listen to House of Commons’ debates about fracking and killing badgers for the next 10 years… The European Court of Human Rights reckons that comes under the heading of ‘cruel and unusual punishment’, by the way…

There! I’ve swallowed it. You can’t have it now.

Ahh… Stop – don’t! Mike! Don’t just stand there looking all waxy – help me! He can’t-

Ahh….

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Ah… why are we in this Limo?

Why is SJ not answering me? Jack doesn’t seem to be too pleased either. I knew they were angry with each other, but why are they angry with me? And how did we get captured again?

SJ, what happened? SJ what did I do?’ This is bad.

My hair? What about my bloody hair – wait – there’s blood on it?? Oh – SJ! You and your Brit curses… Kids could be reading this.  My hair grabbed you and beat up Jack when he tried to help while I went all waxy again… You sure about this?  Cos I reckon that tea you keep drinking-  Okay, okay, keep your voice down.  Just thought I’d give it a mention.

Why don’t we cut it off then? Sheesh, okay, okay stop yelling, will you? How was I to know that you blunted your favourite garden shears hacking away at my hair? And – I have to say, I’m kinda shocked at you using garden tools on my hair. One snip in the wrong place – I could’ve been earless. And I’m mightily relieved that you couldn’t get the chainsaw going, as it happens…

Look – SJ – I’m really sorry about all the stuff that’s happened. Let’s have a big hug and put it behind us-GD075-Garden-hedge-shears-2

Sheesh! Oh boy… are you hurt?

Hey Jack, you saw… it was an accident. Right? I really didn’t mean for my hair-spike to poke SJ’s eye like that.

Jack? Are you not speaking, either?

Hey – I’m sorry they took all your weapons, buddy… Maybe they’ll give them back…

So… you’re not speaking to me, either. Oh man. Never thought I’d find a trip in a limo such a drag. With you two for friends, no wonder I gotta seagull for a pet…

Episode 5 of 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…

Why is SJ all mad?

It wasn’t like I asked her to take me to Chepstow, I thought it was her idea, but then she keeps belly aching about it. Sure she doesn’t have a lot of money, but at least the guy in the pub let me drink all night when I gave him one of those rings I found.

So anyway what is it with this country and their bed and breakfasts? I go out to have me a few pints and then try to get back into out room and find the place all locked up. It was only 2am – sheesh! I tried to bang on SJ’s window to get her to let me in, but would she… no. You would think that she was the one drinking.

As I headed back into the dark wet streets a light fog began. Everything was oddly deserted and the fog grew thicker. Surrounded by the ancient buildings, my mind almost felt like I had gone back in time or entered some creepy horror movie, so naturally I thought that was super cool.

download-arabian-horses-wallpaper-arab-horseThen I heard it. Clip, clop, clip clop. That was that, I wondered? Clip, clop, clip clop. It was growing closer. Clip, clop, clip clop. I looked around; there was no one on the street. Clip, clop, clip clop.
Then I saw it. Out of the mists, coming straight at me, was a wild-eyed black horse. I could see the whites of his rolling eyes as it gazed at me. The blood froze in my veins and I couldn’t move. The black beast stared at me as it drew nearer. It was only then that I saw that it had a saddle on, but no rider!
What had happened to its master? Was this a ghost horse? Had it killed it rider? I took a step back and the thing passed slowly by, the echoing of its hooves fading into the distance. This was enough for me and I fled back to the bar, but it had already closed.

So after this unnerving event and a night of sleeping under a few soggy newspapers in the alley, SJ has the nerve to tell me, “I look a fright.”

I was about to tell her what’s for when I heard a familar squawk overhead. It was Dahtoe! I was pleased as punch, as the English would say, but SJ started weaving a string of curses that would have made one of those tank drivers she loves so much, blush.

Strangely enough Dahtoe didn’t land and instead began to fly towards Chepstow castle. Before long I lost him in the fog. It looked like a storm could be brewing, but with all the fog around these parts who could tell?

We were about to head to the castle,when my cell rang. It is Jack Primus of all people. Sorry… I need to take this – he doesn’t sound happy…

WHAT was I thinking, inviting Mike over to England???

Well I’m up to my elbows in, now!! I’ve had NIGHTMARES about that seagull, I’ll have you know! And there’s Mike – who looks like something a stray cat sicked up – crooning and calling to the psychotic bag of feathers like it’s some pet! Doesn’t he know it’s related to dinosaurs? It’s certainly got the cuteness factor of a velociraptor.

I wouldn’t mind – but it’s only Dahtoe that gets to see the softer side of Mike this morning, that’s for sure. He’s in FOUL mood. seagullsApparently I’m the hag from Hell for not opening my bedroom window at 2 am and letting him in. It’s all very well for him – he gets to go back home after this car crash of a holiday. But there’s my REPUTATION to consider. Aunt Gertrude’s first cousin’s husband’s niece and her family live in Chepstow. What if word got back to Aunt G. that a man was seen climbing through my window at night? I’m in enough trouble with the Family as it is. It was one of the reasons I didn’t want to come to Chepstow, by the way. Although Mr I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about is squirming out from taking any responsibility for THAT dreadful decision…

Anyway – onwards and upwards, as Aunt G would say. Well, before she got buried by the books in my spare room, anyhow. These days she’s rather grumpy…

We’ll go and see the castle – and I’m going to ignore Mike’s groaning about the weather. You’d think he was made of sugar the way he’s moaning about the drizzle. It’s only a bit of misty rain, for goodness sake. We’ll have a nice time tramping around the ruins and – maybe – I can cheer him up by getting him to imagine what it was like when Edward Longshanks had it built… The knights clumping around… the peasants toiling… the women embroidering…

C’mon, Mike. I’ve got my National Trust card and we’ve travelled all this way. Put away your phone – you can chatter away to Jack any old time. Let’s go and see us a castle…