Part 1 of 1
Read the full text, as well as the show notes, at http://flashpulp.com
Tonight, we present a tale of suburban anxiety dressed in sheep’s clothing. Consider it a lesson in presumption, revenge, and carnage.
The Skinner Co. Network
FP308 - The Big Bad Wolf, Part 1 of 1
Some days, gloomy, my hours are slumberless Dearest, the shadows I live with find nonetheless Little white flowers will never be taken in Not where the bright coach of sorrow has taken you Angels have no fire ever returning you Or they're the angry of fire, so they'll join in you Ooh, sunday Welcome to Flashpulp, episode 308 This evening we present The Big Bad Wolf, part one of one This week's episodes are brought to you by Nutty Bites Wake up, go to work Work Come home, eat dinner Rot your brain out Go to bed Lather, rinse, repeat Are you tired of an old humdrum life? Tired of things that just weigh you down and depress you? And you'd rather just focus on things that are awesome? Tune in to Nutty Bites, find out what's awesome Nutty Bites, nimlas.org/blog [Music] Flashpulp is an experiment in broadcasting freshpulp stories in the modern age Three to ten minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings Tonight we present a tale of suburban anxiety dressed in sheep's clothing Consider it a lesson in presumption, revenge, and carnage The Big Bad Wolf, written by J.R.D. Skinner Art, narration, biopoponax, and audio produced by Jessica May Horace Hastings watched the true of 12-year-olds march along the sidewalk below the window of his second floor bedroom He thought of his often trampled lawn, of the constant fence jumping to retrieve rogue balls, of his strong suspicion that they'd once emptied his unlocked BMW of change He frowned, three little pigs, he said, each slightly larger than the other No reaction came from his wife Agatha, he'd forgotten she'd already left for work Horace's gaze tracked the baseball bats in the children's hands and his grimace deepened He was late for a meeting, however, and finishing his tie as half winds or not soon required his full attention On Friday afternoon, two days later, Hastings was staring at the expanse of ravine that made up his backyard's rear boundary Generally it was too overgrown to tramp through, and was thus left to the likes of the trio of swine But today, he'd pulled on an old pair of rarely worn jeans in preparation for an expedition into the brush Miss Marple was missing, and he'd be damned if he'd sit through an evening of listening to Agatha complain about the disappearance of her beloved cat The tabby was largely an indoor animal, but she occasionally liked to range the yard for birds and sunshine Though Horace often ignored his wife's advice of keeping a close eye as the creature prowled, this was the first time she disappeared from the fence space There was just one direction she was likely to have went He fell twice in his descent, but once at the bottom of the broad gulch he realized a faint path wound between the scrub and cedars Wiping dirt and dead leaves from his knees The suburbanite hunter began to follow the trail of broken grass while shouting after his feline He suspected it was a fruitless undertaking, as the beast had never come in his decade of attempts to summon her, but he hoped she might at least raise a frightened mule at the familiar sound of his irritated voice What he found instead was a fort of questionable construction A motley collection of lumber and corrugated metal had been assembled into a crude shelter Its interior had been decorated with well-handled pictures of nude women clearly ripped from the pages of low-grade porn mags and the planks that form the structure's squat roof bristled with reasons to require a tetanus shot Motley surprised that their sousish mothers had allowed them to range so far Horace thought "look at the shabby house those pigs have built" Sitting atop the nail-filled platform was Miss Marple She was licking at a long empty tin of salmon and purring contentedly "It's time to go," announced her supposed savior "The cat couldn't be bothered to spare him a glance" "In greed," said her owner, "I hope you cut your tongue open" The empty cat only grew emptier Annoyed at the slight, the obviousness of the boy's plot to lure away his cat, his dirty jeans and the wasted half-hour, the reluctant rescuer kicked apart the nearest poorly constructed wall, sending a bevy of topless beauties into the mud The violence was enough to turn Miss Marple into a grey streak heading for the safety of home Granting in satisfaction that the results of his demolition Horace followed The Hastings spent their Saturday morning at a flea market but after being sure they thoroughly locked in therefore they could ward It was unexpected then, when they returned to discover a root of escape had been forcefully created, even though Miss Marple had been too content in her position on the couch to use it As Agatha moved to collect a dustpan, Horace stood and cursed at the window as if his angry words might somehow reverse the flight of the rock that had shattered it By the end of his tirade, he knew who to blame and how to exact his revenge The second trip into the gully was greased by his rage and within moments he'd laid eyes on the freshly mended shanty He was huffing and puffing by the time he'd torn the shack down No busty lady remained whole, no board held tight to another and even the patches of metal sheeting had been bent beyond repair by a thick length of angrily swung tree branch Returning home, Hastings discovered his wife had already made the necessary calls to replace the damaged pain Leaving him free to eagerly watch for the boarish triplet's descent and subsequent discovery of their destroyed camp They did not pass however and eventually thoughts of lurking behind a curtain with the portable phone in his hand ready to call law enforcement as he caught the miscreants in another act of hooliganism lulled the fatigued Horace into sleep He was awoken by Miss Marple scratching at his face and panic Despite the pain, it was not his bleeding nose that he first took notice of It was the smell of smoke The warning provided a narrow escape from the blaze that the Hastings house had become As the homeless couple and their cat stood shivering on the pavement, a waiting rescue A gaunt-faced man appeared His hair was wild and long, matching his unkempt beard He began to bay and cackle at their dismay "Be it ever so humble" he groaned before letting out another howl None of Horace's ensuing language was strong enough to drive him away It was only once the sound of approaching sirens overcame the snap and sizzle of timber that the roasted vagrant, having completed his act of retribution for the loss of this haven Disappeared into the shadows that danced beyond the quivering flame Flashpulp is presented by flashpulp.com and is released under the Canadian Creative Commons attribution non-commercial 2.5 license Text and audio commentaries can be sent to skir@skinner.fm or the voicemail line at 206-338-2792 But be aware that they may appear in a future flashcast We'd also like to thank the free sound project found at freesound.org For a full listing of effects used during the show, as well as credits for the users who provided them Please check this episode's notes at flashpulp.com And thanks to you for listening. If you enjoyed the show, please tell your friends. [Music]