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Everything posted by Rigby Taylor
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Arnold bit the bullet and bravely faced his wife the morning after his second night in the arms of Fidel. The pair went early to the house before his wife left for work. She was in the kitchen when they walked in, gave them a cursory glance and returned to boiling an egg. ‘I’m moving out and will get divorce papers this afternoon,’ Arnold said as if he was going for a game of squash with friends. She turned with a sneer. ‘Who’s this? Your boyfriend?’ ‘I’m not a boy, but I am a friend
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Robert and Bart Worry & What Happened to Lance
Rigby Taylor commented on Rigby Taylor's story chapter in Robert and Bart Worry & What Happened to Lance
Drink a glass of warm milk, Okiegrad. Worry exacerbates stomach ulcers. -
Robert and Bart Worry & What Happened to Lance
Rigby Taylor commented on Rigby Taylor's story chapter in Robert and Bart Worry & What Happened to Lance
There's Fidel and Arnold... and Bart and Robert are pretty good in a crisis... Pretty evenly matched - if they all play by the rules. -
Robert and Bart Worry & What Happened to Lance
Rigby Taylor commented on Rigby Taylor's story chapter in Robert and Bart Worry & What Happened to Lance
Every story needs a little tension, don't you think? -
Fidel dialled the number then passed the receiver to Arnold, who seemed nervous. ‘Bart? You probably don’t remember me, I'm Constable Jurgenz who… Oh you do? I'm flattered. I’m ringing from your parents’ place, Fidel gave me your number—I'm with him now. I wanted to speak to you about the other fellow… yes Lance, but not over the phone. Can we meet sometime?..... Today?..... Sure?..... Ok, sounds great… see you then. Cheers.’ He shook his head as if confused as he replaced the receiver.
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Not quite three, actually.
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He's too smart to run into the wrong people... His radar's functioning perfectly... and if they run into him... he's becoming a tough young cookie. Thanks for enjoying the humour.
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On a Saturday night a couple of weeks later, Bart and Robert had returned to their freshly painted and decorated apartment and Fidel was becoming bored spending evenings alone. He’d gone through all the music CDs in Sanjay’s collection, decided he loved Donizetti and Rossini but not Puccini, and was sort of interested in an old copy of Voltaire’s Zadig, but his muscles felt cramped. It had been raining for three days and was still pelting down so he couldn’t even go for a jog. The front door
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Bart's Enterprise & Robert's Advice
Rigby Taylor commented on Rigby Taylor's story chapter in Bart's Enterprise & Robert's Advice
Blissful - lovely word. Ah yes, I used to dance till I dropped... them were the days. What system do you play? We used to play in clubs - International Master Points and all that, but here it's mainly women in duplicate tournaments and boy are they bitchy! When we simplified our system they kept calling the director to complain. Now with Bridge Baron and other computer bridge programmes, the game has become fun again. I never complain about my bidding - only my partners. -
When the owner of Bart and Robert’s small apartment decided to refurbish it, Fidel insisted they come and stay. In return they insisted that Fidel would join them for meals and evenings so they could be a family; not feel like boarders. Thus the kitchen came to life, the dining table a place for chatter, and the lounge somewhere to relax and feel at home—something Fidel had never felt. Much nicer than living like a hermit crab in the shell of his little flat. On the first morning, however, F
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Living with the Karims
Rigby Taylor commented on Rigby Taylor's story chapter in Living with the Karims
Bart.... the font of all common sense - yes indeed. 'They' think they are taxing labour. You have to be a cunning demagogue, not clever to become a politician when the selection process is a popularity poll. You underrate yourself, Canuk. Clearly you were already a clear thinker before entering the hallowed halls of learning - otherwise you'd not have chosen that course. Hammers and nails - excellent analogy. Roman Empire similarities with the US are interesting - destroy anyone who gets in your way, then install a puppet satrap. Carthage cf. Iraq, Libya, Afghanistan, Syria... -
Living with the Karims
Rigby Taylor commented on Rigby Taylor's story chapter in Living with the Karims
It's a laxative, Wesley - gives you the shits so can enjoy breakfast and feel comfortable and relaxed all day. -
Living with the Karims
Rigby Taylor commented on Rigby Taylor's story chapter in Living with the Karims
And you,sir, delight me by allowing yourself to become hooked. -
Living with the Karims
Rigby Taylor commented on Rigby Taylor's story chapter in Living with the Karims
Australia is the obedient, cringing puppet of the USA. When your government says jump, we jump. We idolise everything about the USA - Our PrimeMinister wets himself if your president phones him. He's constantly saying how we share all the values of the USA - our wonderful everlasting ally. Our government denies human induced climate change, refuses to support renewable energy or honest food labelling. Encourages multinationals to pay zero tax... is determined to mine more coal and open up new coal-fired power stations. Solar energy is hated although we are the sunniest country on earth. We are ruled by imbeciles. You read very fast. -
An hour later Fidel was bathed, patched up, dressed in his host’s pyjamas, drinking hot chocolate, nervously describing his experience with the police, and his ill-fated search for somewhere to sleep because he had left home. To the polite Indian gentleman in his late forties who introduced himself as Sanjay, and his wife Monique who spoke with a charming accent, it was obvious there was much more to the story than that, but just as obviously the boy was in shock, in need of rest, and there woul
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That's lucky - You're hopes will not be dashed
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I write misery well. Wow! No greater compliment is possible. Without valleys there are no mountains, remember.
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As Monique is Sanjay's wife - your deduction is probably correct. Thanks for being hooked.
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Fidel was scared. Shit scared. He felt like throwing up and probably would have if he'd had any breakfast. He had to stop thinking about what he was doing or he’d chicken out. His whole life had been one long worry that he’d done something wrong and would be punished, but this was sharper, more urgent, more exciting too if he could only stop thinking about all the possible consequences. Taking a deep breath he shouldered the backpack he’d concealed in a corner for the last three weeks, let himse
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My stories are prompted by ideas that rattle around in my head demanding escape. Fidel is the result of wondering what life will be like in another few decades when the planet’s population has doubled to fifteen billion, food and water are running out, infrastructure is decaying, and the climate has become ever more dangerously unstable. Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr, commenting on social order in 1849 wrote; “plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose”. A proposition I choose to interpret as me
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Fifteen year-old Fidel runs away to the city where he falls into trouble, then falls out again and then is too busy living to notice a quiet political revolution. He and his friends fall foul of the new government and, after a series of adventures, excitements and horrifying experiences, work out how to live, what to value and how to survive during a reign of terror that it seems is not going to end.
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And I've enjoyed your comments, Thanks. As for winter, it is the best time here, cool nights and sunny warm days in the mid to high twenties. No mosquitoes, plenty of fruit and vegetables. Bliss.
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Thank you for reading it. I hope you enjoy the next -
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Thanks, Okiegrad. I'm too soft hearted to have written it otherwise.
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And I look forward to reading your opinions, Wesley. Thanks for following the story.
