Good Luck, Apollo 13 by BarbecuedIguana, literature
Literature
Good Luck, Apollo 13
“Houston, we have a problem.” Don't get me wrong, Apollo 13 is a great movie, but highly inaccurate. What I really said was, “Houston, we've had a problem,” as in “Houston, we've had ourselves another problem,” because that is what Apollo 13 was from start to finish. Problems, problems, problems. Short-circuits and broken gauges inside the capsule, inexplicable craziness outside it. Ken Mattingly, our original lunar module pilot had been exposed to the German measles. He didn’t catch them, just been exposed and that was enough for the docs. His replacement Edgar Haskins was attacked by a dog while out jogging in Pensacola. We spent a month watching his wounds heal. Our command module pilot Jack Swigert popped loose a crown while chewing on some bubble gum. Trivial thing, right? It delayed us two weeks as they pondered what it might do to his inner ear. And me? I wrapped my corvette around an oak tree in Jacksonville. I escaped unscathed, but had anyone been in the passenger’s seat it
The Brain Collector by BarbecuedIguana, literature
Literature
The Brain Collector
“Hey guys, sorry I'm late,” said Duane, chunking himself down in a chair at the table, “I just picked this up at Woolworths. It's so cool you're gonna flip!”
Out of a bright safety-orange book bag he produced a small plastic coffin surrounded by a smatter of plastic grass and three fake headstones. He clicked the middle stone and inside the device tightly wound springs began to unwind. Slowly the coffin lid crept open so a small skeletal hand holding a twenty-sided die could slide out. A sharp click and the hand recoiled, slamming the lid shut and rolling a 14.
“Is that cool or what?” exclaimed Duane, &
Death, Devil, Magician and Fool by BarbecuedIguana, literature
Literature
Death, Devil, Magician and Fool
Late Autumn. 1918. I remember the day with perfect clarity. The sailors had revolted in Germany but we did not know that yet. The telegraph lines had gone down again. They were always going down, so out in our tiny garrison we simply assumed that the war was grinding on as it had for years. Woodrow Wilson had sent us the doughboys, but these men seemed far more intent on getting their hands on some lusty French lasses than battling the Hun. We called them doughboys because they seemed soft and puffy, like little bundles of dough awaiting the oven. Once they met the relentless pounding of artillery at the front we were sure they would be cryin
Orc! Orc! Orc!
Orc! Orc! Orc!
Orc! Orc! Orc!
Orc! Orc! Orc!
Orc! Orc! Orc!
See me ride out of the castle
On your Dungeon Master screen
Out for all that I can get
If you know what I mean
Half-elves to the left of me
Half-orcs to the right
Got a monkey grip
And a mercurial great sword
Gonna role play tonight.
'Cause I play D-N-D
I'm a mystic knight.
D-N-D and I'll win the fight
D-N-D I kill giant trolls
D-N-D.
Watch my Die Roll!!!
I'm dirty, mean and mighty unclean
Ain't no pala-dan.
Gencon registrant number one
Don'tchu understand?
A symphony of slaughter
A twilight knife
Cast dimension door
And run for you life
The elf is back in town
Th
From a distance it seemed like a nice place. A small burg nestled deep in the Catskills, trees ablaze with autumn fire, crystal blue skies hanging high above them. From the highway Jason and Eric spied the tall white steeple of a Presbyterian Church, looking like some cottage industry attempt at a rocket quietly awaiting lift-off.
Up close?
Boarded up businesses. Abandoned cars. Gas stations touting prices many years out of date. Jason pulls his Ford Fiesta up to the main stoplight and sits there, checking his twitter feed, oblivious to an absence of power running to the light itself. Eric only notices this inbetween Instagram uploads. He s