Part 1 of 3
Read the full text, as well as the show notes, at http://flashpulp.com
Tonight, Will Coffin, urban shaman, and Bunny, his rarely sober roommate, hear an arcane tale of parental terror and loss.
The Skinner Co. Network
FP300 - Coffin: Returns, Part 1 of 3
Some days, gloomy, my hours are slumberless Dearest, the shadows I live with are none less Little white flowers will never awaken you Not where the brach ultra-solare is taking you Angels have no fire of ever returning you Or they may angry if I sort of join in you Ooooh, Sunday Welcome to Flashpulp, Episode 300 This evening we present Coffin, Returns, Part 1 of 3 This week's episodes are brought to you by Mike Luoma I'm Mike Luoma, I write science fiction and podcast free chapters each week on my glow-in-the-dark radio I do that because you might not know me yet but my work has been drawing comparisons to Highland, Clark, and Bradbury, cool, huh? Actually it was Aint it cool who made the Bradbury comparison My new book is Alibi Jones and the Sunrise of Her Alibi is trying to find the Sunrise of Her, a lost artifact belonging to the cat-like race, the doc-her You can hear chapters right now Find out more about me and all my books at glow-in-the-dark radio dot com Flashpulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh bulb stories in the modern age Three to ten minutes fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings Tonight, Will Coffin, Urban Sean, and Bunny, his rarely sober roommate Here an arcane tale of parental terror and loss Coffin, Returns, Part 1 of 3 Written by JRD Skinner, Art and Narration by the Pulpen X An audio produced by Jessica May Dorsets, the tavern, was quietly puttering through the depths of an unexpectedly warm Tuesday afternoon As Dorsett, the man, puttered about in the depths of the shadow beneath his liquor display shelves He asked, "You sure you don't want to wish something?" The scattered selection of booths and tables were empty But two of the swiveling stools that marched along the bar were occupied Will Coffin, still wearing his heavy leather jacket despite the unseasonable swelter, sat empty handed But Bunny, wearing jeans and a mostly clean white t-shirt, was tightly gripping a glass of water Before she might reply, Coffin caught the barman's eye and said, "Tell her about when we met" Dorsett's cleaning cloth came to a rare stop and his gaze dropped to a bit of foam disintegrating in the trap beneath the beer taps It was not a change of topic as he'd asked the pair down to discuss a recent, very public, suicide But he obliged nonetheless I'd hired a detective to find my boy Keenan See, when I was 17, I knocked up a lass who had fancy since I was 6 We all thought we were in love, and when you're 17, that means some sweaty groping outside a rock show That eventually turns into a first experience in the back of your das car Which he's expected back in his drive in 30 minutes Anyhow, it was enough, whatever the tally, and she told me I was to be a par Our best mate in the moment, Elmore, told me I should name it after his ban, "Throbbing Head" As it was their show, and they technically provided the soundtrack My personal response was a long run of regular vomiting Hell, I wasn't ready to be starting a family at 17, my day to show me anyone who is She decided she was going to have an abortion I must admit, I was thankful All the same Her parents would have had nothing of it They said it was because of their Catholic heritage But I still wonder if it was sort of a punishment to make it carry it through And have it packaged up and shipped to an orphanage They didn't never let it keep either, which is the cruelest thing We've fallen out by the delivery Ha ha, I was quite ready, I said Step up to my duties as a father But the stress had been too much for us And we concluded we were "at best" friends We're still right This point being, another 17 years later, I hired a detective to find Keenan I didn't even see him in the hospital They came and appeared when I was itching to know I'm just separated from my first wife I couldn't help but think that there was this lad and the world looked like me It wasn't there A couple that adopted him But the fellow had started running around And so the would-be mother drowned herself And my boy, in the tub The adultery apparently found them both were trying to slip in and noticed To get the lipstick off his collar That was a low time indeed The coffin cleared his throat and turned to Bunny We had just a tension while still drawing water through her straw I've had few situations like that, said We used to call them orphan cases The parent wanted to reconcile, the kid has moved on A year before Dorsey's, Sandy and I did the same thing for a British lady, Capital L We probably shouldn't have, especially considering how much yammering she did afterwards But we were starving Not a bad gig though They paid for the initial conversation And pay again to get you to unhook the kid We were lucky too, it was an easy job The little Lord just wanted to talk with Mommy It was the mountains of that same dialogue that led me to you I replied to her, said, "I mean, it was 70's, right?" You couldn't swing a phone directory without hitting 50 psychics I finally dug you two out of the rumours Sandy's decision Muddered the shaman Those lips twitched Whatever the case, we met right Sandy's wearing this jacket Looks like she hasn't slept in four days Willow, he hasn't shaved in maybe two years Smells like a hobo scrotch We've been busy You'd been robbing graves in the outskirts of London Listen, said coffin We weren't going to meet you at our place And have you coming around daily task If we could fix your luck Or mystically fill your pants To be fair, we didn't know what you wanted exactly Just that you were offering us a Tuscan villa's worth of money In hadons, clarified door set As you scooped bunnies empty glass I've been making good coin into the divorce I knew I had plenty to live off if I chose Muddered the good business from running a boarding house Was strapping young maintenance man on his own hand People were willing to pay for discretion back in those days After she died, she left me one tax free safe And gave everything else to Mr. Bell, a business partner Hmm, I was young enough to think money wasn't all that important And it seemed, at least then His talking of Keenan was the solution to my concerns I was not in the greatest positions, frankly My mind had begun to water But do you not know what end I met, if I hadn't found... Well, if things hadn't turned out, was they did It was a small bathroom, mostly decorated in cream colours And the elderly couple who were renting it Thought we were mad for offering them 100 pounds for an hour's use of their loot I mean, it was promised we wouldn't undertake any sexy business Not make any messes We didn't use it full time, though In 10 minutes, seeing I was weeping so heavily, I couldn't continue As it happened, Mirdress was there, too It turnedly locked with him in the tub His Stockholm syndrome ran deep It seems as if his spam with her was an insurmountable barrier I remember considering mad plans I'd find the flights owners, and offering them what I could for the place I'm convincing Will and Sandy to move in so I could communicate regularly Maybe, maybe inviting everyone into the hall So I might hold myself beneath the tap and begin my own turn of battle Do you remember what you said, Will? When I asked how long you thought he'd be there? It was a way you said it that made me think it wasn't just nebulous talk He meant it Of course I do I said, to the end of the world, I guess It was a stupid mistake to let my tongue wag Sandy got the kid unstuck three years later You did end up buying the apartment, though Hey, I'll still own it, in fact It makes me feel better that that woman is lying there, forsaken in the dark Will nodded, and Bunny turned to take in the empty seating Finally, with a tight throat, coffin said So, tell me about the suicide The afternoon crawled on 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 If you enjoyed the show, please give me a thumbs up If you enjoyed the show, please give me a thumbs up If you enjoyed the show, please give me a thumbs up