Shouts From Down Under

Lies are now Vegemite on toast. You don't beleive me?

Truth is stranger than fiction. This bald, commonly used, cliched statement really is true. We would all know this first hand I would imagine.

A story, written by brin , that I reviewed today, has all these strange elements cleverly concocted into a skilful tale of terror.

It's a cracking good yarn for a shorty.

Who's Out There?  (18+) A lone traveler is baffled by strange sounds in the night. #1967591 by brin

Review of "Who's Out There?"

Do you have any stories in your past, not ghost stories particularly, but just anything that you know for a living breathing fact was downright strange, yet absolutely true?

A mystery, yet not necessarily unsolvable, but definitely not of the blurry photo, yeah right, tall story, paid to say it stuff of bull dust. You know that it happened, not to someone else, not to a cousin of your uncle third removed, not a story in xyz magazine, and not on Wikipedia.

I learned quite a few years ago, to tone down talking about stuff that is of the tall story genre; unless writing a fiction story, that is...

Because it irritates me a lot to express to someone, to people, something that you know has happened to you, or that you have seen first hand, and you feel close enough to them to trust them with it. And they don't say it to your face. They don't go, ahhhh what a load of CRAP!

But you know for sure that they think you've told a whopper. Yes. They think you lied.

So, in this day and age of the iPhone's and Galaxy's (Galaxies?) when you can take a picture, even of a TOILET to prove you've cleaned it, and yes we do this all the time in our job (that's how crazy this litigous spiteful nasty penny pinching world has become) ; in this day and age of instant zero cost proof, you can show people that your "lie" is actually true.

But, do people really care? No. I don't think so. People want fiction. Not the truth. People would really rather beleive some crazy story, dressed up with all the bells and whistles that encourage belief in a lie, would rather do that, than believe a simple true thing.

Don't get me started on that soapbox tirade. Ok. Breath. Breath again. Count out those items of reality! Yes. Back again.

There is a story that happened, that sounds far fetched. This incident happened to me a few months ago. Now I'm waiting on the call from the man himself telling me he's been, they've been watching me for some time now NEO.

Yes. I'm the one. THE ONE. Or at least, the NEXT ONE. Funny thing is, the only pills I've taken are purple. Not red or blue.

So what if its just toast? I mean, maybe it's defence of our vegemite culture here in Australia, straight from inside THE PROGRAM. Maybe they figured nobody would notice a glitch and this to happen.

Tell you? Tell you what happened? Oh yeah? And you don't beleive me huh?

Ha! Thing is, mate, I've got proof. A photo. I have a photo of when it happened, and also I took this pic a couple days ago, that shows the object in my van, a clear pic ready for this blog.

This object fell from the sky, or whatever, onto our front lawn. Our house yard that is inhabited by a dog, and at the time by two dogs, was also host to another brand new thing. In a box with plastic wrapper, and warranty card inside. It still has the plastic prong protectors on the plug. Never been plugged in!

We have no idea who it belongs to, why it was thrown there or why someone thought we needed an appliance of this nature. No one has come forward to clarify or claim it.

Yes. It was a brand spanking new two slice toaster. A TOASTER..??? . And the brand name? MATRIX. (Twilight zone music....)

Yes. Toasters and Toilets. Breaky and Bumbling humans with their foibles. I don't know how it got there, or what is the meaning of it. But somehow, after our various garage sales, it's ended up in my work van, in the footwell, banging around there, in the way. It's too good to chuck out. Ours will die eventually.

So...what do you do with a new toaster that came out of a slit in the fabric of the time space continum?

Maybe what I'll do is the same as what I do with toilets that cry out to be cleaned, that weep for a plumber. (The crying that brin described so eerily in his experience)

Just take photos for proof, hug them and move on.



Sparky