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[personal profile] lb_lee
Okay, it's settled.  My creativity is DEAD.  I feel like I'm trying to milk a cow, only to realize the thing's a bull.  In desperate hopes of giving myself a juice transfusion, I'm going to the Internet and offering a proposition.  Comment here, and I'll write something for you.  I'm not promising the Oddysey, either in length or quality, but I'll do the best I can--and sometimes that's pretty dang good.  Since I'm new to this, no real guidelines or length restrictions yet.  So, ever wanted some a story about skeleton bureaucrats?  Give it to me.  If I know anything about the subject (or can at least bluff half-convincingly that I do), I'll write it for you.  Robots conquering Jupiter, Jacques and the killer tractor of doom, Ash learning to dance the flamenco with coconuts, the establishment of the greatest chicken farm in New Mexico, I DON'T CARE.  I'll write about you, your friends, your pets, the voices in your head.  I'll write fanfiction--heck, I'll write mpreg.

See?  That's desperation right there.  So, come on now, I know at least three of the people on this f-list are writers themselves; you know my pain.  Help a fellow out of writer's block.

Date: 2007-05-28 04:45 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lb-lee.livejournal.com
Your talk of milking digi-bulls made me laugh. Thanks. And this was a fun idea to do.

And now: Piggy Bank Dreams, Part One:

Hammy knew that one day his day would come. All Piggies did, and all of them quaked on their solitary shelves in terror of what was to come from their masters.

Hammy's master was a squalling giant Timmy Jenkins, a giant with a screeching voice and strong, pudgy hands of death. Hammy always knew when the Shakings would come. There would be shrieks of, "I WANT CANDY!" and then he would then be rattled so hard that his precious insides would crash against the inside of his skin.

But he would protect his insides from the likes of Timmy Jenkins. Everyone knew that you judged a Piggie by his insides and how well he protected them. To let the squalling giants take your insides was to give up your self-worth. It was to admit weakness. It was to allow someone to partake of your inner, most valuable being. For without your insides, you could not pay the Death Man.

A Piggie's life was one of fear, dread, and misery. Hammy and his ceramic brethren knew that one day, the Shakings would be too much, and the Piggie would be disemboweled by its brutal master so its insides could be taken by force. The only thing a Piggie had to look forward to was holding onto as much of its insides as possible until their death. They would then, it was said, wake up on a nice clean shelf, safe from squalling giants and falls. However, you could only stay on the shelf if you could pay the Death Man.

The Death Man was the biggest giant of all, but he did not squall, and he had hands that could be very gentle, or harder than the worst of floors. He would ask for your insides, and then you would give them to him. And if you were a good Piggie, who had guarded your insides well, you could stay on your shelf, surrounded by happy Piggie cousins, for all of eternity.

But if you were NOT a good Piggie, then you were cast down to a concrete floor, only you would never hit. You would simply fall, and fall, waiting for impact and in constant terror.

This was the way of the Piggies.

Piggy Bank Dreams: Part 2

Date: 2007-05-28 04:46 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lb-lee.livejournal.com
This day, Timmy Jenkins came to Hammy, announced by his screams of, "Candy! Candy! I WANT CANDY!" Hammy braced himself, for now would come the Shaking.

This one was particularly brutal. Harder, HARDER Timmy Jenkins shook Hammy. His precious insides rattled and shook in terror, but Hammy resolutely refused to release them to the squalling giant. He was a good Piggie; he wouldn't give up his inner self to Timmy.

Then the Shaking changed. Timmy began to scream in frustration and anger. "I WANT CANDY! I WANT MY MONEY! I! WANT! CAAAAANDEEEEE!"

Here it came. Hammy knew, suddenly and with clarity, that it was time. He was going to be broken, and his miserable life of Shaking would end. He knew, just before the hands let go of him, and he plummeted towards the hardwood floor, thinking, I have been a good Piggie. My insides are safe.

And then he was on a shelf, facing the Death Man.

"Hello, little Piggie. Welcome home." said the Death Man.

Hammy was cowed into silence. Such a kind voice!

"You have taken very good care of your insides, Hammy. Why don't you give them to me, so I can take care of them?"

It was awful; Hammy knew that it was safe, that he was supposed to give his insides to the Death Man now. But he couldn't; it felt wrong somehow. He couldn't give up his insides. His insides were his core, his most valuable self! Even though he knew he ought to, he couldn't give up his insides, not even to the Death Man. He had spent all his life with his insides; he was rather attached to them, and he had spent so much on them, surely they could stay?

"No? You won't give me your insides?"

Hammy couldn't. He wouldn't. His insides had always been with him; he cared for them as a part of himself. He had taken Shaking after Shaking on behalf of his insides, and he would keep them forever, no matter who asked for them.

"As you wish." The hands picked him up. Hammy braced himself for the Eternal Fall. As long as he kept his insides, he told himself. Everything will be all right.

But the Death Man said, "You are a very good Piggie. I'd never take your insides from you; you're right to want to keep them safe."

And the hands put him on a beautifully clean shelf, surrounded by many Piggies who looked very very happy and safe. And Hammy found that he could move! He smiled, for the first time in his ceramic life. This was more wonderful than he could've thought! And for the rest of eternity, he walked and talked and smiled with his Piggie friends, happy because he got to keep his insides.

The End

This was a whole lot of fun to write, far more than expected. Thanks!
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