Posted by: Hummingbird James | October 11, 2010

Walter, the Paediatrician with an Ice Cream Van

Walter led a very simple life. He worked at the hospital down near the bay. MacGregor’s General Hospital, they called it. It was a nice place to work. It wasn’t too far from his house, it was staffed by people who genuinely cared for their fellow man (and woman, and those in between) and it paid quite well.

Being a paediatrician carried some social stigma, though. There had been a number of allegations of others in his field behaving very… inappropriately towards the children they treated. Walter wasn’t like that. He liked the smiles on children’s faces. They made him feel as if the world was perfect. At least, this small portion was.

That’s why he bought the ice cream van. Sure, it wasn’t good for them, but he only drove it around every so often. But when he did, it was the highlight of his and the kid’s week. He always took the same path around. Down Upton Street, turn onto Stoughton Road, head straight down to the bay, take it past the hospital, then back up to Upton Street and home. The children loved him.

He could understand them. They were happy-go-lucky, and they loved their toys and their sweets and their friends. Walter was the same way – except instead of action figures, he got cars; instead of a single boiled sweet, he got a bag; instead of the kid next door, he had… well, the guy next door. That isn’t much different.

He was in his office one morning, filing away a few medical records. Bridgwood. B. Archer. A. Wilson. W. He gently shut the drawer of the filing cabinet, and turned his attention to the cage on the table beside. Flopsy the rabbit wasn’t eating his food. That wasn’t good.
“C’mon Flopsy, you gotta eat your food. Else you aren’t gonna grow up to be a big, healthy rabbit.” Walter cooed. Flopsy looked up, then scurried over to his food dish. Walter smiled.

The door opened, and a nurse pushed her head through.
“Dr. O’Reilly, Ben is having a seizure!” She cried.
“I’ll be right there.” Walter rushed towards the door as the nurse ran back to the ward she came from. Just before he left, Walter turned back to look at Flopsy.
“I’ll be gone for a little while. Make sure to eat your lettuce! You’ll grow nice and strong!” Walter grinned.

Posted by: Hummingbird James | October 10, 2010

Victor, the Zebra Doctor

Victor trotted down the busy street, carrying his briefcase in his teeth. He absolutely needed to get to work on time. That’s the problem in Zebra Society. There isn’t an efficient way of getting across town, despite their advanced technology. Everything that they put forward was simply too big. Until now. Inside the briefcase was a set of blueprints for a new vehicle. One that should revolutionise the world as we know it.

It was simple. Harnessing the weight of the zebra race, the vehicle would be able to propel itself at speeds upwards of twenty miles an hour. It could even be folded up! But, alas, Victor hadn’t gotten the funding for this idea. The stallions at the patent office thought this idea was incredibly silly. But Victor will show them!

The lack of funding was why Victor was still practising as a neurologist at the Wheaton Hospital. You’d think that a neurologist wouldn’t try and change the world in such a way, but Victor was pressured into it by his family. “You’ll help people! They’ll be grateful! And, as a bonus, you’ll get lots of money!” they said. That last part was what convinced Victor. Too bad it was a total lie.

He neared the hospital. It was a shining example of medical advancement. Expansive monitoring systems at every bed, able to track every single action taking place in your body. Computers with the genetic profiles of every bacterium in the world, and the symptoms of the more dangerous ones. Automatic prescription writing printers. Too bad none of the money was spent on the doctors. Victor’s one-bedroom flat was far too small for someone with his importance.

That’s why he needed the funding for his vehicle. But what would he call it? It was segmented, to allow the user to fold it up, and it could make its way down a street with ease. Wayment? He’d have to think of something later. He sauntered into the lobby, and over to the locker room. Victor didn’t like the locker room too much; it seemed like it was designed for people with two legs, not four. He walked over to his locker, and looked into the scanner next to its door. The scanner looked back with an infra-red beam. It beeped.

The door swung open, and Victor poked his head in. There was a photo of his family and a spare change of clothes. Sometimes, when you were diagnosing someone, they’d forget to mention the chronic vomiting and proceed to spew over you. It’s hard to get vomit out of a suit. He nudged the door closed, and headed out the locker room and to his office.

Victor’s office was small. There was a desk, a bookcase, a couple of chairs and a sofa. His degree hung on his wall, depressingly alone on the blank, featureless wall. The window across from his desk was facing out onto the river. And, in the afternoon, into the Sun. Victor was sure that Management was messing around with him when they decided where to put him. Still, the river was damn pretty.

He sat down behind his desk and picked up the piece of paperwork on top of his “in” tray. His jaw dropped.

Human Motors had reviewed his design. He was gonna be rich and famous.

Victor had a long day ahead of him.

Posted by: Hummingbird James | October 8, 2010

Waiting

I wrote this for my college’s Creative Writing class.

—————————————————-

I stood in the alleyway. The wind blew my overcoat around, like it was paper. My grip tightened on my cricket bat. Soon, that fool would be here. Soon. I paced along the alleyway. It was dark. Perfect cover for the dealings. No one would come through here normally. It was just a matter of time until he met me.

That damn fool. He wastes his money on things like golden railings for his shower and a set of diamond-encrusted silverware. Who would even want diamonds in their knife? Sure, if the blade was diamond, I’d understand. Diamond cuts like no other. But putting it in the handle, where no one’s going to care?

Rain started pattering on the wall in front of him. The width of the alleyway meant that there was no chance of me getting wet. I tilted my trilby forward a little. I spun the bat in my hand. I kicked a pebble down the path. Good lord, he’s taking forever. What on earth could he be doing? I adjust my gloves.

This is getting ridiculous. It’s been an hour since we were meant to meet up. I rest the bat on the wall behind me and tighten my tie a little. I’d spent £400 on this suit. May seem hypocritical, but I had a series of pockets put inside the jacket so I could hide my various pistols and knives. My favourite was my .500 revolver. A little unnessecary, but the look on someone’s face when they stare down the barrel of such a huge gun is priceless.

I pace down the alleyway.

I hear footsteps from behind. I cautiously turn my head. It could be just some random bloke who just happened to walk down this particular alleyway. I smell the cigar smoke. He loved those cigars. Imported straight from Switzerland. They smell terrible. I suspect he buys them just because they’re £150 a case.

“Good evening,  Alex.” I mutter.
“Good evening, Dave!” Alex bellowed, with a grin, his fat face wiggling as he spoke.
“Do you have to be so loud? We’re on a job!” I hiss.
“Don’t be such a spoilsport.”
“Look, we have to get going. Those kneecaps don’t break themselves.” I motion for him to follow. Alex bring up his crowbar and slams it into his palm. Killing people is the only place he skimps on money for.

We head out of the alleyway.

Posted by: Hummingbird James | September 28, 2010

National Novel Crapshot for Desert Bus Month Follow-Up

The date for the poll is drawing near. And none of you buggers out there have sent me your choice for which Crapshot you want to see adapted.

So I ended it early and chose it myself. I chose The Watching. I have a really cool idea that I think could work out. I sent it to Alex Steacy himself and he approved it, which means that It’s Go Time. (Or possible MORPHING TIME!)

So here’s the idea.

There’s a zombie apocalypse caused by an image broadcast on TV. It weirds out the brain enough that it turns them undead. One of the symptoms of it is watching too much TV and the head doing a 180. Only some are immune, and there is a cure. Enter young Alex Steacy, a shampoo salesman who just happens to have trained in the martial art of Hokuto Shinken, which has a special technique that can in fact cure the TV Zombies – namely the Hokuto Hyakuretsu Ken. Now he must go out and fight men, women and highly-fragile children in order to turn them back into a human. And deliver hair-cleansing products that leave a sheen.

Posted by: Hummingbird James | September 20, 2010

National Novel Crapshot For Desert Bus Month

I shall be converting a single Crapshot video from the alumni of LoadingReadyRun for National Novel Writing Month. What’s more, I shall be doing it during LRR’s annual Desert Bus For Hope charity run. In fact, I shall do it as a part of the charity run – for every 10 bucks that are donated to Desert Bus, I will add a word to the final target for my novel. Got that?

I’ll say it again, but bigger.

I am going to add a word to my final target for my National Novel Writing Month novel for every 10 USD donated to Desert Bus.

However, I don’t know what Crapshot I’m going to adapt! This is where YOU, the community of mostly LRR fans because I’m going to link to this on their forums, come in! I’ll set up a poll on the LRR forums (I’ll link to it when I’ve made the poll) AFTER I ask around for the top 10 best crapshots, excluding The Grinder and The Basement, which have been adapted into other forms already (Game and full length LRR video, respectively) and I don’t want to rehash those too much.

I’m hoping that the usual charity vs. spite factor comes into it. But not too much!

Posted by: Hummingbird James | September 20, 2010

The Precipice of the Bright – Preview

I watched as the group of men hastily struck the ground with their shovels. My men. An army of faceless goons at my beck and call. They dug. They dug like their lives depended on it. Which they did, of course, since I had implanted a bomb into every one in tenth member of my army. I, of course, told them that they all had bombs. Much more cost-effective, and just as terrifying.

They dug.

After a couple of minutes, I casually strolled over, my cape billowing in the wind. I brought up my torch and shone it into the hole, illuminating the dark uniforms of my minions. It must have been a good twelve feet deep, and nine across. I bellow.

“That’s deep enough. Bring the clown car over and dump the load.”

The goons clamber out into the field from the hole clumsily and as fast as possible – they didn’t want to be executed for being slow. A large black van across the grass towards the chasm and spun round a few feet from the edge. The back doors opened like the maws of Hell itself. The neon lights and smoke machines help with the atmosphere.

Random Mooks #625 through #637 dragged a series of man-sized black bags out of the van and viciously tossed them into the pit, making a soft thud as they hit the soil. Random Mook #638 then appeared at the mouth of the vehicle. He had tied a length of rope to the ends of two smaller, child-sized bags and was swinging them like Japanese nunchaku before throwing them in.

I picked up a shovel. It was strong. Sturdy. I swung it at #638’s head and sent him spinning down the twelve foot drop. He was being far too silly and was wasting precious time. I motioned to the rest of the platoon deployed to this venture to start filling in his tomb.

So what do you think so far?

Posted by: Hummingbird James | September 19, 2010

Sorry about the hiatus.

College (last couple of years of school for you Merkins) just started, and so I’ve been working on my life a little more than my blog. As you can tell, of course. If you’re interested in that sort of thing, I took Further Mathematics, Computing and Physics for my A-Levels. My nerdiness is shining through. (My college also offers these things called enrichments, where you spend an extra lesson a week doing something extra that you want to do. I’m doing two; Delphi Programming (NEEEEERRRRRRRRRD) and Creative Writing. (CRITIIIIIIIIIIIC))

Also, I haven’t really had many ideas of what to write here. I always get this feeling when I start something that requires commitment; I spurt out a load of stuff at the beginning and then I whittle down into nothingness. The internet equivalent of premature ejaculation and erectile dysfunction, I guess.

Why did I compare my e-activity to the world’s worst dick?

Also, I added a Twitter thingamajig on the side so that you can follow me. I don’t know why, I’ll probably use it for dick jokes and insulting Fox News.

Posted by: Hummingbird James | August 30, 2010

In which my vocal talents suck.

Why did I do this?

No really, why?

(psst: the song I’m using is the version used in Linkara’s Anita Blake review. I AM NOT GAY FOR LINKARA HE IS JUST A MANLY MAN AND I HAVE A TOTALLY STRAIGHT AND MANLY MAN-CRUSH ON HIM. THAT IS ALL. PETER YOU CAN SHUT UP NOW.)

Posted by: Hummingbird James | August 29, 2010

I suck at blogging. Also, I suck at staying on one topic.

Whenever I try to start something up like this, it fizzles out after the first few entries because I’m terrible at having motivation. I update furiously for about a week or so, then I forget about it one day. Then the next day. Then the next. It kinda sucks, especially if the idea is hella cool. Of course, to make matters worse I only think up ideas involuntary. Even when doing so is detrimental to what I’m doing. For example, when I was watching football yesterday, (Leicester City vs Reading, Leicester lost 2-1. Sad face.) I, for some god-forsaken reason, thought up a That Guy With The Glasses fighting game. Complete with possible Super and Hyper moves for one character and possible alternate versions of two others.

Actually, that sounds more awesome than what I was writing about to start with so let’s go with that.

The only characters I had thought of were of course, the Nostalgia Critic, Spoony and Linkara. I decided that there would probably be an option to play as the Nostalgia Critic’s crazed with power persona in the film Kickassia. That persona is of course known as N. Bison by the fans. I think that’s what kickstarted this whole idea, seeing as the character and outfit was a take-off on M. Bison from the Street Fighter film. Stupid awesome N. Bison. I also decided that Dr. Insano would probably be playable too. However, the most thought was put into Linkara because seriously, the guy is hella cool.

In light of the whole IT’S MORPHIN’ TIME sequence he’s had in his reviews a couple times, I decided that one of his hyper moves would be morphing into a Power Ranger. Probably the Green Ranger from MMPR. Or Red from In Space, in light of his recent addition of a Battlizer in his arsenal. Instead of doing a one-off move and dropping his super bar, the player would be fully in control and have access to far more powerful versions of his moves, including his supers and other hyper, and the super bar would decrease over time. Of course, being able to use his supers or hyper whilst in Power Ranger mode would be dependent on where the super bar is at when the player tries to use them. His other hyper would of course be the famous I AM A MAN punch. Nothing else to say. Finally, one of his supers (as I haven’t thought about the others) would be Ensign Munroooooooo beaming in to blast the shit out of the enemy with a great huge gun.

Why am I such a Linkara fanboy?

Posted by: Hummingbird James | August 27, 2010

sometimes the internet hate machine is cool

You have to give them some credit.

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