You tube has some kind of program, it seems, that attempts to transcribe whatever ramblings that can be heard on a video into text. Needless to say, this technology is still balls. What often comes out therefore, is some high quality, A-grade gibberish. The song in the last post was what was uploaded, and the message came out wildly changed.
And so it was, that armed with this inane babble, I made this.
It was the 50th anniversary of the founding of the Orford conservative working men’s club. It was a day to be remembered by many, and cursed by still more.
The first half of the evening went well enough – they’d hired a master of ceremonies to introduce and seat the members, and had little cards made to mark each person’s place at dinner. The fare had been enjoyable, and they’d had some speciality ales that had satisfied the traditionalists, and one of the club’s founding members, who’d been wheeled out for the occasion, had even gone so far as to get steaming drunk. This was not unusual in itself, but when he swayed up to the podium to read a speech that he’d prepared to mark the anniversary, he began acting very strangely.
He unfolded his papers and his watery eyes darted about the page for a while, then he stared at the speech he’d written as though it were some strange insect before he threw it to the ground with distaste. He began then to pace, his doddery old limbs whirling in demented spirals as he tried to piece together what it was he really wanted to say. After a while he stopped pacing, returned to the podium, took a sip from a glass of water that somebody had put there, and began.
– There’s this man, he began hesitantly, trying to hold on to the shape of it in his mind, of … of infinite mass, and he’s into you. It’s cool.
He raised his wavering voice then, confident that he’d started as he’d meant to.
– Don’t you all know, he intoned, about this new … implant? It teaches a man … things.
There were doubtful looks and whispers, but it was no secret that he was old and frail and had likely forgotten himself. The assembled members waited for him to continue. The next words he spoke came out in a great rush.
Man! We’ve got to talk about … about Salsa! Can you please just tell me exactly what is going on? – he paused for effect, the question was clearly rhetorical – So what if our allies are out?
… Haven’t we not got Gold Lingo?
What it was that started out was not God, no! What it is, is actually … Heaven and … and Hell, okay? It’s all there to behold but now, … now I don’t know. It’s, it’s actually now in Maine.
Several members had now had enough. They collected their car keys and wallets from tables and left. But many stayed to listen.
– Please! Hear me out! Solaris Linux! … Holding it and staying in’s not allowed!
It’s the words! The words that do all the work, in the ad agency! He was shouting now, and his fervour filled up the end of the common room.
– It’s all still pending, but I wanted to buy this.
He held up a small rock that he’d taken from his pocket, displaying it to each side of the room in turn.
– It was just that I felt that it made … he corrected himself … created, a motion. It jumped outside my heartbreak, alright?
He slammed the rock down on the table, to emphasise his next point, putting emphasis on every word;
– Hollywood’s where it’s at, yeah?
To everyone’s surprise, a faint voice at the other end of the room shouted Yeah!
– The guard moved, and said that Alabama’s mad … all mad and the guard moved. He said Alabama’s mad and that the gold reached all the way down there. Well I had a lot to say about that but I stepped over it to help out sauce salvation.
Stop! Stop and open up the dogs to me on that saint.
At that point, he stood up on a chair, his flapping hair in disarray and tears standing out in his eyes.
-Homebuilders internal team – lead the evening!! He was screaming now.
It wasn’t clear who first stood up, but a small collection of voices were now raised in answer. The founding member’s brows knit together in righteous fury.
– Lead the evening!!
A chorus of answers filled the common room.
– Lead the evening!
Up on his chair, the fever had really taken hold of the founding member now.
– We need … to talk. About. Salsa!!
– Salsa!, the voices answered.
– He said to me “where are you, okay?” and immediately it was done!
– Dot org! he screamed as his old arms struggled to lift the weight of the lectern.
-Periodic! Dot org!
With this he raised up the chunk of wood with a cry and sent it crashing through the French windows behind the platform.
Then all hell broke loose.
People stood up, nodding their heads in recognition as they broke up chairs and tables and sent them sprawling across the bar and whooping in their joy as two of the bowls team set the curtains on fire.
– Goldblum! Goldblum!!
The founding member let out a cackling, inhuman cry as he lurched off through the jagged hole left by the lectern and they all followed him out into the night.