Some more (fiction, obviously) writing. This one's quite old.

This reminds me of the time I met famous Shakespearean actor Kenneth Jones. I was walking down the street one day and Kenneth Jones came up to me and asked me if I would like some cake. Of course I said “Yes please Kenneth Jones sir” and took a piece of cake and started to eat it. What follows is the exchange that followed as recorded by the courts.
Me: Excuse me Mr. Jones but what sort of cake is this?
Kenneth Jones: Why, it’s cheese-cake.
Me: Oh really? It sure doesn’t taste like any cheese-cake I’ve ever eaten, Mr. Jones.
It was at this point that the bees started stinging my face.
Kenneth Jones: No, no, no. Not cheese-cake. Bees-cake!
You’ll notice that these sound quite similar.
Me (bees stinging face quite severely now): But Mr. Jones, these bees are stinging my face! Quite severely now!
Kenneth Jones: Why are you calling me Mr. Jones? That’s not my name. And I’m glad you’re enjoying my bees-cake.
And that is the time that I met Kenneth Jones.

Some more writing.

The Experiment
Two men decided to conduct an experiment entitled “Do plants have feelings?”
They each bought a plant and for a period of one week they each conducted the following experiment. The first man (Emmanuel) was to be particularly nasty to his plant. The second man (Hooch) was to be particularly nice (to his plant). The aim was to determine whether plants do in fact have feelings. Here is what happened.

Emmanuel’s diary:
Day 1
“You are not a very nice plant at all. All of the other plants think that you are a ferret with leaves.”
Day 2
“You are inferior, plant.”
Day 3
“Get out of here. Why do you just sit there, foolish plant.”
Day 4
Today Emmanuel pointed a pistol at the plant for a period of two hours. He watered the plant but added sugar-free cordial to the water.
Day 5
Today Emmanuel held up his rude finger to the plant and randomly jeered it.
Day 6
“Did you take my wallet, plant? I can no longer trust you. You are untrustworthy and clearly a member of the criminal class.”
Day 7
Today Emmanuel pretended to punch the plant on more than one occasion. He would frequently sneak up on it and shout “Boo”.

Results: Plant shows signs of fatigue.

Hooch’s diary:
Day 1
“You are a better than average, plant. Well done.”
Day 2
Today Hooch gives the plant a Playstation 3 game. Unfortunately, the plant does not own a Playstation 3, but it is a nice gesture.
Day 3
“Nice stamen.”
Day 4
“Plant, you are looking very nice day. Does anyone ever tell you that? I probably do not tell you enough.”
Day 5
Today Hooch dresses up real nice, buys a box of chocolates and a bunch of flowers. Upon presenting these gifts, Hooch realises with much horror that the bunch of flowers are possibly relatives of the plant, but it is too late. The damage has been done.
Day 6
Today Hooch pats the plant.
Day 7
Today Hooch read the plant “The Magic Faraway Tree”. Twice.

Results: Plant shows signs of fatigue.

Conclusions: Inconclusive data.

A short story.

The Global Financial Crisis
Graham was in a hurry. He pulled his coat tight around his shoulders, protecting himself from the winter chill. Quickly, he marched down the main street but before he knew it, he had been stopped. “Excuse me, sir!” said a short, squat man in a tight fitting jester outfit. Graham was not impressed. He continued walking, muttering, “I’m in a rush, I’m not interested.” Suddenly the jester was in front of him again. “Sir! Do you love bargains?” asked the jester. His eyes were open wide, waiting for a response. Graham halted a moment, he thought about the question. “Well, yes. I suppose I do love bargains. But I’m in a hurry.” The jester jumped up and down excitedly. “I knew it!” he called, “You look like a man who loves bargains. I sure can pick ‘em!” Graham tried to continue walking, but the jester was tugging on his sleeve. “Sir, sir!” said the jester. “Yes?” Graham asked. “Quick, this way, it’s Mad Monday at the Llama Barn. Lots of bargains sir, everything half price!” said the jester, barely pausing to take a breath. Now wait a minute, Graham thought to himself, this sounded promising. He loved the Llama Barn. “Oh, I didn’t realise you were from the Llama Barn” he murmured, his eyes lighting up, “I love the Llama Barn. Half price you say?” The jester seemed a little downbeat now. “Yep, half price. Everything. It’s Mad Monday.” Graham started walking back in the direction he had come from. “Well, maybe I’ll take a look” he said. The Llama Barn sold everything, from novelty thongs to imitation fruit. Graham entered the shop and picked up a mug. It had the words “Ken’s Mug” embroidered on the side. Ken would love this, thought Graham. “I’ll take this, please”, Graham said, presenting the mug. The jester grimaced and pointed at a small sign on the shop front. It read "Mad Monday. Everything half price." Graham squinted. In tiny writing below this sign was a smaller sign. It read "except mugs." Well, thought Graham, this doesn’t seem very mad at all. The jester said, “We have to have a modicum of sanity, you know.” Graham looked surprised. “How did you know what I was thinking?” he asked. Then, the jester vanished in a puff of confetti. A high pitched voice whistled past Graham’s right ear. “I can read minds” it said. Immediately, Graham tapped his breast pocket. His wallet was gone. Graham was getting sick of this. It was the third time this week he had been duped by a street jester while trying to buy Ken a mug.

I thought I'd sometimes put up some short pieces of fiction writing. They're not really structured but are just short exercises, things that I might look at developing or might scrap. Ideas, really, mostly stream of consciousness. Anyway, here's one.

Astronaut School
At astronaut training school, Bertie Dirtweed was never top of the class, but he tried. His instructor was always saying to him “Bertie, are you going to be an astro-thousand or an astro-naught?” Bertie would always reply “An astronaut”, believing this to be the correct answer and although technically it was, it wasn’t what his instructor wanted to hear. "You'd better start putting in astro-thousand percent, Bertie" his instructor said. Bertie spent many a summer in the brig as a result, which in astronaut school is an anti-gravity bin. It’s the same as a regular bin except spinning constantly and full of compost. Of course this meant that Bertie became acclimatised to weightlessness much faster than his fellow pupils. Still, it didn’t help him in "the long run". ("the long run" was the annual astronaut training school marathon, an event that Bertie was appalling at, like most things.)