Frankie Lassut

The Green Balloon - How A Green Balloon Helped Save Mankind (eBook, ePUB)

• Format: ePub

Produktbeschreibung

There is though a rather sinister world out in the blue yonder going under the heading of 'flash' ... it is bad to the core.
There are people out there locked in darkened rooms with padded walls, tables and chairs, who write flash stories of maybe ten words and they are addicted to doing them. If they join with the haiku people they could form a small/medium/huge army and take over the world. They would read these sentences to the enemy and if they still didn't beg for mercy, the haiku division could step forward and really abuse their ears and brains. Failing that, British pensioners could be parachuted in and it could be guaranteed that the non-stop moaning about the weather and the buses would ensure that the enemy would walk out of their city, hands raised, begging for mercy. Begging to be put in a room with '10 word flash fictioneers' or poets, mixed with haiku people. That would be the beginning of the real Armageddon.
Our quick flash stories are more words than that, but still pretty quick flash stories to read to completion on the way to work instead of bookmarking? Our version of War and Peace could be called 'the interesting argument'. Something you can read and finish on your way to work. Entertaining we hope (you get your money's worth anyway).

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Produktdetails

• Verlag: Frankie Lassut
• Erscheinungstermin: 1. April 2015
• Englisch
• ISBN-13: 9781311994387
• Artikelnr.: 46921879

Autorenporträt

I am the one being shaved; the other one Nim, is is a looney bin now!
I went to see a psychic years ago who ended up as my girlfriend; she didn't see that one coming! But she was extremely honoured. However it ended badly i.e. it rained heavily as I buried her body and I got soaked. No! You don't really want to hear about it, it's depressing; I was joking about the burial. She told me that I was to uncover a talent I had ... Well, another psychic told me that as the first one was dead; I was lying when I said I was lying. Nothing happened for quite a while. Suddenly I realised I needed a 'job' quite badly as I was beginning to drink halves. No, not a boob 'job'! I went for the cheap option i.e. the surgeon gave some socks to shove up my jumper when I go out. I got a 'job' (have you got boobs on your mind?) because someone told me that bus-driving was easy because you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel. She was about six, a wise woman ... that's called an oxymoron. Fantastic! I thought get the job and in a couple of days I'd be driving all the nice passengers around and about seeing all the sights for a fraction of the cost of a tour bus; and we'd have a roof in case it rained. Easy! First of all though there was the training; and I entered hell.

I was born in Cumbria in a little ex-iron ore mining town called Millom. It was only small, a one- horse town; the horse was called Peg. It had a pedigree name too, but I can't remember it at the moment: Peggy Suss? However, I got fed up and left as I was the only man in a town full of women and they were all lesbys; I've always been lucky. I went to Blackpool and attended the photographic college. I then moved to Coventry and met the psychic who would tell me what was going to happen. I could say now that the rest is history. Well it is, but obviously not history as that's all made up anyway. Then I got the job bus-driving, which as I said is easy 'you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel'. The bus station management weren't pleased that she had said that though, so she was tried and sent to Guantanamo Bay; they have a section for young kids who are bad to the bone.

The job was so mad that I thought it would be a good idea to write out some posters and stick them all on the wall of the bus station. The other drivers enjoyed them, but the management tore them down, the badstars (that's an anagram of astards +B). I carried on and ended up with a manuscript for a book, which, by ...