[x]

lounge: 1Rachel wakes, the crossing-over just as gentle as the previous night's passage. The sheets lay rumpled and cold beside her. Wednesday isn't a baking day but he's already gone. She doesn't follow him anymore, tracing his scent down the sidewalks past shady vendors and impenetrable bookstores. The latter is what he seems to like the most, drowning in years of solidified dust. It is bitter and dry to her nose and she can smell it in his hair for days afterward. She stays away.

This place is not her home, but she has been here more often than not these past months--enough to watch a Northwestern winter diminish. Yellow-green shoots have risen up

The ExI tried to ignore the blood-red stain spreading inexorably across my white skirt. The maitre'd fussed about, offering me napkins and apologies by turns. With the company I was wont to keep, it occurred to me that I was a fool for not having bought shares in White King. It seemed an interminable age before the waiter finally left with a promise to bring another bottle. I asked if he could make it a dry white, this time.

I turned my attentions back to the man sitting across the table from me, forcing myself to meet his eyes. Sharp green met nervous hazel. "David…" I kept my voice soft, but firm. I could see the tension taking hold

Eat"Oy, let me see your calorie card!" The skinny man at the hotdog stand demanded, holding my hotdog just out of reach.

I sighed and dug the plastic out of my pocket, handing it to him with a sour grimace on my face. I was sure I had already exceeded my allotted 1500 calories for today, but I was just so darn hungry. Seriously, what was one hotdog going to do to my figure anyway?

He shook his head as he swiped it through the scanner. "Sorry girlie. This hot dog is 242 calories. You only have 10 calories left for today." He shooed me away in preference of those with enough calories on their card to afford his food.

My stomach grumbled i

DeathGently brushing against him, I flinch. I feel him, closer than ever, his rotting breath on my neck and his enticing voice in my ear.

I cannot give in. Dragging myself to my feet, I trudge on. Each footstep is thunder and each ragged breath is hell. Every rumble of my stomach, deafening. The averted eyes of strangers pierce my soul. Their blank faces loom in and out of focus. Muffled voices ask about my wellbeing. I stumble and fall. No, stand, please legs work, please, oh god, please stand up, don't let me fall, he'll catch me, he'll take me, oh please, stand…
Gripping the wall, my head pounding, I begin to buckle – again

The Pumpkin Patch     The Patch was quiet for a fall day. This time of year there would be people in droves tapping pumpkins, lifting and carrying while small children danced around and shrieked their enthusiasm. The field was filled with pumpkins, but there were no people in sight. Douglas shrugged and closed his jacket against the chill and kept walking.

     The house loomed up before him out of the trees, three stories of termite-infested natural wood that gave the whole place a creepy feel. Maybe this way Pete didn’t have to worry about burglars.

     He knocked on the big

Top 10: Jesus or SupermanTop 10: Ways of Identifying Jesus or Superman

10. Has returned from the dead more than once, and might possibly do so again.

9. Exploits are followed by millions of avid readers for many years.

8. Subject of painful disagreement and arguments among fans.

7. Does good works without expectation of reward.

6. Maintains a tax-free Fortress of Solitude.

5. Was sent to earth to save us all.

4. Shoots heat-beams from eyes.

3. Primary opponent is evil and prefers underground lair.

2. Native language is not English.

1. Has a superb sense of humor and would never hurt the author of a Top 10 list.

One Possible FutureI stepped outdoors into morning sunlight, inhaled the crisp mountain air. It was going to be a gorgeous day. The mournful cry of a weaselraptor came to me on cool breezes, followed by the answer of another maybe three miles off. It was mating season, again.

I almost stepped in a pile of tyrannosaur turds. Great. That meant the electric fence was down again; I'd have to make a circuit to find the break. There went the afternoon.

The shed contained everything I'd need to repair the fence: tools, wire, replacement parts. I collected gear together and threw it in the bed of the pickup. Stopped for a smoke. The genetically engineered ca

churchlord you spun me out
of morning rays and mexican
china, out of paper elephants
and camomile flowers. you took
the tongue
and ears away from a deaf
mute and gave them to me
so i could hear the others
say speak the word of jesus
wide-eyed like children, so that
i could say my name is emily,
my name is emily but i can't
remember who
i am.

lord you gave me green
whisky when all i needed
was a glass of water in
the middle of the
night and arms instead
of a parting knife.
you wrote me a poem and
put it inside me and
the words smelled like sex
and tea leaves, carrot-flowers that
will emerge from the dirt
someday
smiling an

RecallingOnce, I forgot my limbs.

I left them downstairs because I was in such a rush to get up to the second floor. I didn't even realize my legs were missing until I was halfway up the stairs. "No matter," I thought, "I won't need them for a while anyway." Only when I tried to reach for a paintbrush did I realize that my left arm had done just that, and the right away. Again, I shrugged it off (with only my shoulders) and went about my business.

My business is rather unconventional. There's no elevator in my office building, because I work from home. Thus, forgetting my limbs downstairs would be, as you probably assume, a hassle. And, well, sure,

RoommatesIt’s really not the poltergeist I mind-
it intriguing to see one’s energy
bouncing like ball lightning from wall to wall
in an encapsulate cubiculum of space.
Analytically, it’s entertaining,
after all the debunking, EEG,
and other skeptic quests are satisfied
and you master the not-looking-looking.

I see what I see; it’s easy for me-
it takes no more thought than it does to blink.
It’s never been another way, although
no two people ever see the same thing.
A faceted phenomenon, for sure.
The knocks and moving things amuses me
it’s never frightening as a general rule
but something’s not quit

Demon TrapI finished the incantation, the last of the words yanked from my throat as they often are.  My Sight revealed them swirling away from me, forming a vortex within the containment circle surrounding me, simple chalk on basement concrete.

I stepped carefully out of the circle then, popped the cap off a bottled water and swallowed half in one long draught.  By the time I wiped my chin, my visitor was already forming.

He appeared first as an orange ember, a firefly darting frantically within the containment.  Finding no escape, he settled into the center, about eye-height, finally spreading himself out a bit: now he

Beauty and the Beast II

Hoping to steel her nerves, Belle took a steaming gulp of coffee from her Styrofoam cup. It did not help. The bitter liquid scalded her mouth and made her throat drier. An odd assortment of women filled in the circle of folding chairs behind her. Although it was easier to think of the other group members as virtual strangers, Belle had to admit she had much in common with them. Over the archway beside her hung a crisp banner proudly proclaiming "Disney Damsels".

"Oh, Belle, dear," crooned Cinderella, "are you almost ready? You are the star of our show this evening "

Belle turned around, startled at the sound of her name, and focused on

Breaking InA small, domestic bathroom.  TIM, a young and unimposing man, is unconscious on the floor, leaning against the bath, hands and wrists tied, a bloody wound on his forehead.  He starts to wake up, looks around, and then realises his predicament.

TIM
Hey!  (Pause.)  HEEEEEEEY!

The door opens.  KAREN, a young woman, enters.  She has a necklace in her hand, which she clutches throughout the scene.  She looks at TIM, aggressive and defiant.

KAREN
Yes?

TIM
You shouldn’t have done that.  It was really dangerous.

KAREN
I’ve called the police.

TIM
I tho

From the Journal of a CynicHe held her hand in the shadows, in a nanosecond of half-crazed lust. She didn't notice, or if she did she attributed it to cheap champagne and a dash of almost evaporated romantic idealism.

Funny how soul mates (if you'll pardon the expression) brush past each other, never questioning the way people shuffle in and out of each other's lives. Boy meets girl, girl meets boy, boy and girl fall in love, girl realizes boy is too boyish and dumps him for a married man who advertises men's cologne and has no time for his five and a half year old daughter.

Love. It's an almost invariable idiosyncracy in the genetic sequence of the primates currentl

To the VysehradTo the Vyšehrad, Prague (May 13th, 2008)

I left a sliver of myself adrift on the Vltava,
the mother river. Not a piece of my heart, no-
nothing so yielding or moveable as that.
A curve of rib perhaps, or the third digit
of my left little finger, the largest vertebrae
or the deep roots of my wisdom teeth.

I shed a bone-it slipped out from beneath
my skin in the late afternoon,
when the sun on the new, smooth headstones
covered my eyes with blindfolds
white and gold; it fell
into the foreign trailing arbutus
without a sound.

When the rain came, later, it rolled
with the black grave garden dirt
into the river and settled,

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 11.2 KB more ▶

More from ~extramundane

to sleepAnd I am driving
winding streets
and all I see
are the lines splayed out in
coloured
electric
lights...
...the waving people-shapes that all the
signs make.

And there's bumping and booming and hissing from
the gravel, the sidewalk, the
stereo.
and a drum is matching the sound of my arteries
note
for
note.
and I will push this shadow from
the shadow of my house
the second I get home.
and I'll strip my clothes
and cuddle down
to sleep.

sad song.

the rain punished the lawns
with everything it's got,
and every car in suburbia shines.
Trial by fire
(or trial by hail)
always makes filthy look clean,
the best of bad kinds...

and in the puddles
I see lips from underwater
things swimming on their backs.
We've been panting like
some tired starlings--
--spots only sweatdrops
on asphalt-blackened skin.
Sweat only shining
like the light thats coming in,
while we're waiting to see
what we'll do.

the way things work now everyone
is classed by desperation;
the screeching of a need so hard
it's far too high to hear.
Some things are much more terrified
of what is in the mi

scalessomeone's playing scales through the engine of their car.
remember where you are.
it's morning.
and.
the light is grey but nice,
and your guts are in revolt, but
there's nothing you can say or do
to change.
.
You are getting more straightforward
in your ripening old age
and it's probably your brain
playing tricks with how your life is grinding still...
remember who you are.
it's afternoon by now,
and the weight is shifting harder on your will.

it is not right. Categorically, this
spending of nights pissing on my right,
my women's right to choose
how I die on my feet,
in my head,
on the streets every day.
Wh

CHESS.

And I fought you
til you wont stop,
legs collapsing.
one in the morning, and
tomorrow I go
to the rack for the daily
stretch of my
good humour. I,
I guess you prime me
better for
these things.

Nothing puts the heat on
quite like quiet excellence, and
mediocrity is like
cold herring in your bed.
The fire in the feet
is the fire I miss hearing,
and the taste I'm chasing now
for twenty years.

I miss it when I realise
I'm lying to myself
when I'm kind enough to miss
that it's not here.

Your move.

big city silhouetteGood old Toronto is
a business suit in heels,
the sort that sends you
Christmas cards and
cell phone
calls...
Toronto is a vegan with
her nose in some
Red-leftist rag
and eyes with frames
and skin that sags
from too many drum circle days
in the most gorgeous ways...

Toronto is scoffing
behind her tan/hand
at bad radio commercials
and trying on the bargains at
the local american chains.
And her and her friends are
plugging their ipods
into the rivers
for cheap battery acid
tides.
and Toronto is taking off
to "camp out" every weekend,
and pretend she's european,
or at leas

View Gallery · View Prints

Featured in Groups:

#DD-Catalogue
The Home of Daily Deviations

Details

Submitted: April 7, 2009
File Size: 11.2 KB

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 214
Favourites: 311 [who?]
Views: 9,455 (1 today)
Downloads: 181 (0 today)

License

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 License.

[x]

Bakery Apocalypse:Armabreaddon

by ~extramundane, Apr 7, 2009, 6:51:21 PM
Literature / Scripts & Screenplays

BAKERY APOCALYPSE: THE ARMABREADDON
A Punny Half-Baked Quasi-Opera in Ten Minutes

(Scene opens on Bakery; an entry to the "back room", a table, upon which baked goods sit. A doorway to the outside world.

BAKER paces and frets, checking watch, fixing and adjusting, etc.)

BAKER: Today's the day... the culmination of years of kneading and baking and mortgaging and re-mortgaging and it all comes down to this. Ever since I had a Fisher Price kitchen I've waited for this day, and now it's here. One health inspection away from realising my childhood dream.... my own bakery.... (a beat) Oh my god I've never been so nervous in my life. (looks around)
The floors (checks floors)... are clean. Surfaces are.... (checks table-top with finger)....sterile. Except I just touched them. And they're not sterile anymore. (panics, looks about for a cleaner, and sprays the spot on the table) Phew! The kitchen and bathroom.... oh god the kitchen and bathroom! (rushes to back room).

(Rev.) CUPCAKE: AND LO, the words of the great prophet Betty Crocker come to pass! It is the End of Days!
From the book of Squares and Deserts, the final pages!; For the whites will be separated from the yolks, and whisked away!

CUPCAKES 2 and 3: Repent! The End is Nigh!!

(Rev.) CUPCAKE: The Time of Suggested Serving approaches! Those half-baked will stick together! Nonbelievers will be tortured on the oven racks, and become....leftovers.

CUPCAKES wail

PI(E): Would you shut your cakeholes? There's a perfectly rational explanation for this. Nothing is going to happen to us.

CUPCAKE 2: The end is nigh!!

DFC: Looks like he's finally gearing up to sell us all, Angel Cake...

AFC: It can't be true--you've got it mixed up. He never said he was selling us!

BAKER re-enters, still fluttering and fretting.

BAKER: The kitchen is NOW spotless, the bathroom is in working order.... what else could they possibly be evaluating but....oh my, what if I'M not up to standard?! Okay. (deep breath) Okay. Bottom-up. Shoes are...regulation. Apron....on. Hair.... (wrestles it into a hair net) is....(with much difficulty) contained. Hands.... I havent washed them in five minutes. They'll notice! They'll never buy cupcakes from a guy with dirty hands, gahh!!

(BAKER exits again)

CUPCAKE 3: We are the chosen ones!! The End is Nigh!

CUPCAKE 2: Baked Goods Repent!!

(Rev.) CUPCAKE: We shall stand until cool in the eyes of The Baker, and hope for his mercy in Serving!

PI(E): Don't listen to these flakes. It had to happen. It's practically a mathematical certainty. If you refer to the health code, page 3 section 1-4, it states quite clearly that--

DFC: Shut your piehole, he's gonna sell us and they're gonna eat us.

AFC: This is a trifle too much to handle... what do you mean they're going to eat us?! That's terrible! He would never do that to us--the Baker is our benevolent creator!

DFC: Brownie-noser. That's a load of sugar. The Baker's on nobody's side but his own. He knew we were doomed from the start--WE may as well get used to it. We're finally getting our chance to get our revenge on people. Make 'em fat and sassy, give 'em diabetes, pay forward the favour and make them obese...

AFC: You Devil! How can you say that about the Baker! He takes care of us!

DFC: And softens you up like butter so you're nice and sweet when some snot-nosed kid stuffs you in his mouth! Geez, he must'a beat you til thick, Angel.

BREAD: Psst.... remember my cousin, Frenchie? He lived in a bakery that opened a while back. Said that Baker got all crazy, running around the place, and then people started coming in, looking around...takin his buddies away... the dame he was seeing, that Creme Brulee, he watched her get torched alive. He said it was brutal. Then one day someone walked in, and took him. I heard he got toasted. Never saw him again.

PI(E): No!

BREAD: I tell you no lies. You ask me, the idea that the Baker's lookin out for us is pretty rich. We should be thinking of a way to save our own crusts.

DFC: Heh, you got served.

AFC: Well this is terrible, but we'll fix it! I'm sure if we stop being saucy for five minutes we can persuade him to save us. He didnt create us just to die, so he means us no harm.

CUPCAKE 3: May we be sprinkled with his favour and garnished with blessings! The end is nigh!!

CUPCAKES wail

AFC: Oh hush, don't try to butter him up.

PI(E): Here he comes.

BAKER reenters.

BAKER: Okay. Place looks good, I look good..... what else can I do to avert impending doom....if they dont like this my life is overrrrr.... the displays could use some touchups.

(BAKER bends to adjust the tablecloth, then tie his shoe)

AFC: (Quietly, to BAKER) Y'know, maybe this is a bad time for you to be opening. Do you really wanna risk everything on this shop? It's not too late to stop this crazy idea...

(BAKER nods thoughtfully)

DFC: Then again, why stop now, right? You've come this far, and these cakes and pies look just delicious--

(BAKER considers)

AFC: (in harsh whisper to DFC) What are you doing you devil?!

DFC: (whispering) We're gonna get eaten sooner or later and you've all just got to get used to it.

CUPCAKE 2: The end is nigh--

AFC:(whispering) SHUT UP. (To BAKER) The economy is terrible right now... and didn't they just open a new gym down the street? The location is all wrong...

(BAKER winces)

DFC: (To BAKER) Then again, it's probably perfect! All these fat people can get waylaid on their way to the gym! You'll probably have better business than anyone else!

(BAKER smirks)

AFC: (with force) Maybe you should just sell the DEVIL'S FOOD CAKE and put the rest of us in the back room?

BAKER: It does look good, but..... wait, what?

PI(E): Looks like you blew it.

AFC: Oh fudge!

BAKER: AHHHHHHH!! (a beat) AHHHHH!! It's finally happened!! I've finally gone crazy!! The cake is talking to me!!

(Rev.) CUPCAKE: Behold, the Creator speaks! The Serving approaches! One cannot have his cake and eat it toooooo!!

(CUPCAKES wail)

BAKER: You can't talk, you'll close my shop!!

PI(E): Technically speaking, you can't open shop, because we can talk.

BAKER: The Health Inspector is going to be here any minute! You all need to shut up and be normal before you COMPLETELY RUIN MY LIFE!

AFC: If this place passes the inspection it's going to ruin all of OUR lives! Did you really only create us to be eaten?! Are you so cruel?!

BAKER: I don't have time for this. I dont have time for a psychotic episode! The Inspector--

(three slow, ominous knocks at door. Everyone freezes in terror.)

(Rev.) CUPCAKE: Judgement day descends, like a plague of yeast infections.

CUPCAKES: (with renewed enthusiasm) REPENT!!!!

PI(E): Pretend you're not here. It's the yeast you can do.

BAKER: I swear to Rachel Ray if ONE of you makes so much as a SQUEAK I will CRUSH YOU TO CRUMBS.

DFC: Is that supposed to be better or worse than being eaten?

(three louder, more ominous knocks at door. BAKER approaches with apprehension, opens door to see INSPECTOR in black, standing intimidatingly with giant clipboard).

BAKER: Welcome, Miss Inspector....uh won't you come in?

(INSPECTOR enters slowly, judging, scowling)

INSPECTOR: So this is your first food-based business, then?

BAKER: Y-yes, it is, it's my life's work...

BREAD: (quietly) It's our life's risk.

INSPECTOR: What's that--

BAKER: Nothing! Uh so this is the front of house, this is where the goods are displayed--

PI(E):--for ritual snackrifice--

(INSPECTOR reacts with suspicion)

BAKER: --For sale...ifice. Which is what we call it here. Heh. Heh. He. Do you have any....questions?

INSPECTOR: No.

BAKER: Okay. Um. I'm really keen to get this place up and running, y'know, I've been wanting to do this my whole life. I live to serve!

AFC: Apparently so do we.

BAKER: WE'VE GOT REALLY NOISY PIPES IN HERE. (Kicking the table). Not that there's anything wrong with the pipes. Nothing at all. Nonononono.

INSPECTOR: Clearly.

BAKER: Let me show you the back, where the kitchen and the bathroom is and the food is NOT...(leads her to the back room)

CUPCAKE: DOOOOOOooooooooooooooom is niiiiiiiiiiiiiigh!!!!!!!

PI(E): Okay. After extensive analysis I've concluded that to survive we need to stop loafing around and take action. One of us may need to be sacrificed to save the rest, and I volunteer to take on that roll. I had a good run...and I've loved you all..... All in flavour, please say Aye.

DFC: Listen to him spooning it on. Trying to rise to the occasion. Heroism's kind of past its best-before date, isn't it? Not even Angelface's golden-brown halo is getting her out of this one. We're allll going down. To hell in a picnic basket.

AFC: I know you're not all bad. Search SOMEWHERE in those layers and find the will to help us fight this!! Maybe the inspection won't pass! Maybe he'll soften up and come to his senses, and kick that woman out, and we'll be alright!

DFC: She'd probably take his head off if he so much as tried; she looks pretty hot crossed already. While we're talking about it, she had pretty nice buns too. He could get with that, it'd be a sweet deal.

AFC: WOULD YOU SHUT UP AND FOCUS!?! We're in a real pinch here!!!

(Rev.) CUPCAKE: The armabreaddon is upon us.... legions of the unbread will rise, to sift the whole wheat from the bleached and the unleavened will inherit the earth!! ... The tartness of fate will sour the sweetest of--

PI(E): WOULD YOU SHUT UP?! We've got a CRISIS HERE!!

(BAKER and INSPECTOR reemerge. Carmina Burana cues up quietly in the background. PI(E), AFC, DFC and BREAD gape in anticipation, CUPCAKES begin to mouth the words to the opera)

BAKER: (with enormous apprehension) So? What do you think?

INSPECTOR: I believe.....

BAKER: ....yes?

INSPECTOR: ...that I have reached...

BAKER: YES?

INSPECTOR: A verdict.

(a pause. Opera crescendoes, CUPCAKES sing)

BAKER: What is it? Can I open?

INSPECTOR: (clicks pen. Speaks slowly and with great emphasis) In terms of health and safety, I find this establishment....

(Blackout.)

Bakery Apocalypse:Armabreaddonby ~extramundane

Literature / Scripts & Screenplays

subtitled A Punny Half-Baked Quasi-Opera in Ten Minutes
Done with hand-made, hand-operated foam puppets, and two real people (TM). DFC

evil's Food Cake, and AFC=Angel Food Cake. DFC, (Rev.) Cupcake and Pi(e) pictured here, in the world's worst lit and worst shot photo.

This is actually my final project for my Theatre for Young Audiences class, and it is most certainly the least serious, most ridiculous thing I have -ever done-.

If you wanna do it, feel free to leave me a note in the comments. I've got designs for the puppets and the whole thing is a big funny punny mess of groaning hilarity.

Daily Deviation

Given 2010-01-10

The doom-prophet cupcakes alone make Bakery Apocalypse:Armabreaddon by ~extramundane a quick, funny read. ( Suggested by ~redpennant and Featured by `fllnthblnk )

love 10 10

joy 2 2

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~BigHairMexican Apr 13, 2012

PLEASE tell me there's a part 2 to this? I love it!

*DracoFlameus Nov 6, 2010 Hobbyist Digital Artist

I featured this here: [link]

~ocean-soul-13 Jun 28, 2010 Student Writer

LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE

is there a sequel? hehe

~arcadebutts Mar 24, 2010 Hobbyist General Artist

This is a really funny script (and I'm not really one for puns!).
I am in a Drama class and we have a project in which we have to pick out plays(or scenes from plays) and I was wondering if I could have permission to use this.

~extramundane Apr 14, 2010

you most certainly can! I know this is late, sorry--I'm actually at teacher's college, and it's killing me--but it's Creative Commons, so go to town with it!
If there's a program or what not, send a scan of it to me--I like to collect this stuff for my portfolio.

Let me know how it goes!

~arcadebutts Apr 14, 2010 Hobbyist General Artist

Ah- thank you!
I'll make sure to write myself a note to remember to save the program to scan for you. ^^

~RAveN-838 Jan 24, 2010 Professional Writer

Kudos fall unto you! This script has been selected for collection over at #SeriousWriting. If you feel like it, drop by, look around, maybe submit a join request...

~Alystair-Rayne Jan 17, 2010

I'm a speechie, and would really like to use this as a duo piece. Could my partener and I have permission to use your script?

~extramundane Jan 17, 2010

absolutely and absolutely! Mind putting my name in a program somewhere?
(also, if it's public forum type stuff, I'd love a photo of a performance and a program thrown my way)

~Alystair-Rayne Jan 17, 2010

Oh, well, it's not really in any programs, but it's for my speech team. We have contests and stuff, and, while we may not be able to have cameras in the room, we could get some pics of us practicing beforehand! And, the writer is named in the intro.

More from ~extramundane

Featured in Groups:

Details

Statistics

License

Bakery Apocalypse:Armabreaddon

Bakery Apocalypse:Armabreaddonby ~extramundane

Daily Deviation

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style