Part 1 of 1
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Tonight we present a tale of lingering holiday cheer, seasonal depression, and the occult.
The Skinner Co. Network
FP304 - Coffin: Holiday, Part 1 of 1
Some days, gloomy, my hours are slumberless Dear is the shadows I live with by nonetheless Little white flowers will never be making you Not where the bright coach of sorrow and is taking you Angels have no fire of evolution in you Would they be angry if I so don't join in you? Welcome to Flashpulp, Episode 304 This evening we present Coffee, Holiday, Part 1, and 1 This week's episodes are brought to you by the Dexter cast On the Dexter cast, we do a rewatch of the Showtime series Dexter There are four hosts, two of us Bob and Rachel have seen Dexter before The other two, Thena and Janice, are watching for the first time This format is called an intro cast So join us on the Dexter cast as we follow the adventures for America's favorite serial killer, Dexter Morgan (music) Flashpulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp 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 lingering holiday cheer, seasonal depression, and the occult Coffin, Holiday, Part 1 of 1 Written by J.R.D. Skinner Art in narration by Popenax And audio produced by Jessica May (music) I f*cking hate this movie, Bunny told Coffin They were standing at the L-shaped counter of their apartment's small kitchen He was opening a fresh tray of Oreos, and she was rubbing orange juice against a glass of vodka and calling it a screwdriver In the living room beyond, Jimmy Stewart was undertaking his yearly debate with bumbling angel Will, eyeing the rapidly emptying bottle of spirits, didn't bother to reply Instead, he lifted a small plate and returned to the fat man on the couch As the town of Bedford Falls continued to fall apart in its alternate timeline, Coffin handed across the cookies Thank you, such a nice gesture, but could I perhaps trouble you for a bit of the gal's potato squeezes as well? It was the third glass the old man had had that evening, but Will gave a nod and circled back By the time he'd arrived with the topped-up drink, however, the friction had returned to the room "Might I inquire as to why you won't stop staring at me," the guest was asking, Bunny She pulled hard at her glass and squinted, "Why'd you never give me anything?" It was enough to distract the bearded cookie eater from Uncle Billy's stay in the asylum "Why didn't you want to get shot?" "Would you actually even die if you caught a bullet?" "No, but it isn't fun." "Doesn't gunplay if I'll under knotty or nice?" "I don't guess I observe," Bunny kept staring. "Okay," said the fat man, "you need to understand that I'm just a figurehead. No one actually believes in me anymore. Parents buy presents for their kids or each other, and single folks would assume a crack-headed broken into their home if I suddenly started dropping Barbies everywhere. I actually tried it back in the 80s, and everything just got thrown out. Better than in the 80s, though, than it was all "Work of the devil, and let's burn it to be safe." Sweet sassafras "Anyhow, you keep me alive by lying to the little ones, but it's clear no one really wants some large fella stalking through their living room in the middle of the night?" Nothing handed across the gray goose, and towed the large sack beside the couch. "This thing still always feels pretty full," he said. "Heh, Jake, what you want," replied the visitor. "If I were to tell the elves the truth, they'd be crushed. Things smell a desperation enough as it is up there, forever slaving against the clock for nothing." "Sides, Mrs. Claus would not enjoy a bunch of mopin' manual laborers gettin' drunk on nog and hangin' around the house." "What do you do with it all?" asked Bunny, as Will crawled into the container's broad opening. "I give some to charities with drop-off boxes," replied the caller, "but frankly, heh, I've heard of the great Pacific garbage patch." Above her upturned glass, Bunny's eyes widened. "Holy shit! Santa's a fuckin' dolphin, man, man." The supposedly jolly man sighed. "Well, I'll be adding to it before going home. I didn't start the problem. You people did." While it does happen to be convenient, I shake no joy in it. In his most of the satisfaction in my existence, having been robbed of my purpose, all I have to live for is a last taste of warmth before heading north. Coffin returned then, his arms full of fleece perkas. "Did you mind if I took these?" he asked. I owe favors to some guys down in the sally and soup kitchen line, even if they deny it. "At least they'll sleep some use," replied the myth. "Oh, hey, fuck it, duck!" said Bunny, jumping from her seat. "Where's she going now? Hey, you should come. Those wobbly some bitches think you're just another fake, looking to discharge charity." Kringle grinned, his eyes dampening. "Oh, thank you," he said, noting the change in his expression. The drunk continued, "Oh, hey, don't think we're starting a fucking tradition or anything. I was just looking for an excuse to turn off that goddamn movie." Little did she know, how wrong she was. 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 scare@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. Bye! 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