Journal Entries
To thine own self....
Posted Feb 28, 2021
*...As we all know, Ownership of genetically identical biological organisms (GIBOs), has been the right of every Citizen for decades.
GIBOs (or human clones) may only be owned by their DNA originals.
Ownership is in total, and the GIBO is considered 'Property' in the eyes of the Law. As such, the Owner may utilise the GIBO for any purpose they deem fit.
It is still illegal to own a GIBO of any other genetic line.
But recently, the hitherto gray area of cohabitating partners or siblings 'sharing' GIBOs, is being addressed in the Supreme Court, following the successful prosecution of the Pickering twins from Newcastle, found to have been regularly using both their owned GIBOs indiscriminately.
The case continues, amid widespread calls, in the West, for the right to freedom for GIBOs that have outlived their owners. (Currently surviving clones are humanely disposed of under Directive 12, Inheritance & Entitlement Act '72, as amended)
Some Ultra-Liberals are actually campaigning for global Emancipation and the closure of all State owned Cloning Labs, whilst counter arguments from the Patriot League, demand Ownership of GIBOs be a matter of a simple monetary transaction.
We're certainly in for an interesting summer, back to you Chad……*
Iris Fletcher (G) flinched imperceptibly as she served Iris Fletcher her tea. The news anchor babbling away behind her, calling for troops on the streets of Leeds, rioting and looting no way to protest against the very, very, miniscule chance that one's GIBO may be taken away. Citizens terrified at the prospect of menial labour, condemned to a lifetime of personal drudgery.
Iris Fletcher tutted and tsked at the very idea, nudging her clone with a slippered foot, gently commanding Iris Fletcher (G) to move from in front of the screen. The action held no malice, simply an unconscious act , like removing an errant pet, or stray cushion, from her line of sight.
Iris Fletcher failed to register the mirror image (identical to her, but face unpainted and thinner, body harder, toned but tired, after thirty years of hard work and poor food) as Iris Fletcher (G) set about the evening routine of making her mistress comfortable. Each evening the same, the soap drama demanding Iris Fletcher's full mouth, and full attention.
Iris Fletcher (G) poured the milk, stirred in the sugar, and set the cup down alongside the full packet of chocolate biscuits, content that Iris Fletcher would leave her alone for the next 27 minutes.
Those twenty-seven minutes would be vital, for tonight was to be the last episode Iris Fletcher would ever see.
And tonight, Iris Fletcher (G) was to become globally infamous.
Discuss this Journal entry [17]
Latest reply: Feb 28, 2021
Canidae Cannabaceae
Posted Feb 22, 2021
Seventeen miles above the impossibly green planet of 4dash20, Honey-Red Vixen sat in the command pod of the Harvester Ship D9TCH.
Vixen was preoccupied. Totally engrossed actually. Pink tongue poking out between beautifully sharp teeth, concentrating mightily on the task in hand.
Beautiful orange eyes squinted as she carefully, slowly, meticulously moved her claws.
Each tiny movement brought relief. For three hours now she'd toiled, a few more minutes and it would be done. Finally.
*Hey dudette, whatcha doing?*
Vixen carefully withdrew her tongue, eyes still fixed upon her task as she answered her first mate.
*Shhhh, Reynard, almost…. there… just… one… more...Yesss!!!*
Vixen proudly held out her paw, blissfully showing off her handiwork.
Reynard bent forward, his own fiery orange eyes taking in the clump of neatly trimmed red fur, clumped and sticky.
*Snickers Bar?*
Vixen nodded, gazing down at the planet-sized stash below.
*Yup, next time I get the munchies, please, please, keep the chocolate away!*
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Latest reply: Feb 22, 2021
Still here - lockdown fox.
Posted Feb 9, 2021
City fox crosses, still wary on the traffic-less road. Searching for discarded take-aways that no longer litter the night.
The skinny fox is silhouetted against sparkling Christmas lights, forgotten by staff that haven't entered the shuttered store since last November.
2.30 am on a snowy February morning. Blue lights in the distance, racing to yet another false alarm. Wind rattling windows, sounding alarms, keen to make the city seem less dead.
Fox moves on, secondhand starvation forcing it into the freezing night. Not knowing why it mourns the missing crowds. Longing for the days of an easy meal.
Snow covers fox's tracks, erasing all signs of life on the road, as the wind whistles sadly around the deathly still city.
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Latest reply: Feb 9, 2021
Memories
Posted Jan 31, 2021
Weird today, working on a piece for February Create on Memories, phone pings, Facebook telling me I have memories to look back on from this date...
There's an illustration I'd shared for a story I wrote about memories five years ago!
If only I'd remembered to send it to DG! (who promptly sorted it.)
Coincidence or is the interweb reading my laptop? Again!
Discuss this Journal entry [3]
Latest reply: Jan 31, 2021
Couldn't remember, the Greatest song in the world
Posted Dec 24, 2020
In 'Tribute' by Tenacious D, two hard rockin amigos are challenged by a daemon to play the best song in the world... Or I'll eat your souls...said Mr Grohl.
So they played the first thing that came into their heads, and it just so happened to be....
Anyway, I had a Jack Black moment this morning, feeling rather Christmassy, and a bit smoochy, I picked up a guitar (from the guitar corner that's appeared in out dining room since lockdown began) and played, and sang, and made up a love song called Dance For You, on the spot, right there and then!
Now it may not have been the greatest song in the world, but it was pretty bloody good for me, wife very impressed.
Two minutes later, tried to do it again...
Nothing, lyrics, chords, tune, all gone from my head like poor old Tenacious D... I'll have to do a tribute.
Happy Christmas to all
Discuss this Journal entry [16]
Latest reply: Dec 24, 2020
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