I'm a big fan of bad nineteen eighties science fiction. Since the story posted here is for my own entertainment as much as the readers', and since it's in essence, free. I plan to have some fun with it.
I can pretty much promise that you won't find any literary brilliance here. Nor do I intend to address anything socially relevant, meaningful, esoteric or of any practical value.
I can't promise any set posting schedule. If you read my other blog, you know I have small children.
I do promise you a story, when I get around to posting it.
It will most likely be light hearted, hopefully fun, and, gods willing, at times funny.
So why space slugs?
It started with a puppet, and originally a puppet play. As puppet's have a tendency to do, this one took on a personality of its own, demanded more story, and stole the show.
I'd like to think the reader here could imagine the tale done that way: hokey, cardboard sets, ragged cloth and found object puppets, home-made sound effects.
I'm going to pretend you're all cooperating with this, so don't tell me otherwise.
Listen to the cheesy, synthesizer, space themed music. The tempo quickens, without much skill, as the curtain rises--off center. Hot celo-tinted lights cast the sets into a blue haze. The sound of shuffling offstage momentarily breaks the mood. Then, in a clatter of jointed parts, the character enters. At first, you might cringe. You will notice the joints, the strings or rods, the awkward movements. Give her a minute. Let the illusion take you and, soon, you will move with her through spaces suddenly life-sized. You'll forget her flaws, her strings, and see only the dance...and the story.
I hope you enjoy it.
*Now for the technical mumbo jumbo*
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