Megan

Ice clung in blue daggers
Along the fringes of Megan's nape.

Mark eyed her suspiciously,

As another snowstorm swirled in

And blasted against her frozen northern reaches.

A gulf appeared between them,

As an avalanche ripped down across her bosom

Snow gushing onto the floor before Mark’s brown leather brogues.

‘I just feel that you’ve been very cold towards me recently’, he said.

Krakatoa

Krakatoa baubles

Liven up your Christmas tree with a daily display of hot molten rock & ash.

Leaving presents, or other flammable materials, underneath the tree is not advised. 

Godzilla

Babies crunched underfoot as Godzilla crossed the maternity ward. 

Baron Plane

Baron Plane of the Barren Plain hated his parents, and the place of his birth.

Hated them with an all-consuming passion, especially when he was on the phone to his utility company.

Kennedy

Down a deep brown hole in the pavement fell Kennedy.

Kennedy fell deep down the brown hole in the pavement.

Pavement, the goalkeeper yelled. Pavement, he lamented.

Lamented, he passed on, leaving Kennedy falling.

Falling Kennedy ceased falling at the bottom of the hole.

Hole, the damned hole in the pavement Kennedy was trapped in.

In trapped state Kennedy regretted looking in that shop window.

Window shop your way to disaster Kennedy, that’s the way!

Sue

Sue sat sweating on a foam mat,

Whilst around her the other ladies continued to stretch and grunt.

She watched a bead of sweat slide down the strand of her fringe that dangled before her face.

It reached the end and seemed to cling onto her hair for dear life, desperately trying to hold back the unstoppable pull of gravity.

It lost that fight, and plopped the short distance from her bowed head to the soft pink of the mat, where it was first violently dispersed and then slowly absorbed into the mat itself.

Sue felt herself give way, no longer able to cling on to the acceptance of normal life.

She stood up and walked out of that yoga class, walked beyond the town. The town that held her family and her house, her job, her life. Walked beyond it, and yonder, and on again. 

Walked to freedom, never to be seen again.

Zach

'You need a hobby', said Zach's mum

'I have a hobby' Zach said.

'I mean a proper hobby, like playing football or bird watching. Not this' said Zach's mum, gesturing to the mess all around them in Zach's room

'I don't know what you mean. This is a proper hobby' said Zach

'It's not', said Zach's mum 'Inflating melons with a high pressure air gun is not a proper hobby. Look what it's done to the place' said Zach's mum, her arm sweeping around the room that was plastered in the gloopy remains of various honeydews and cantaloupes

'It makes people happy' Zach said 'I've had over 20,000 views on youtube'

'I don't care how many views you've had on frutube. You are destroying this room with your explosive fruit Zach. I won't have it. This stops now or I will pack your bags for you and send you on your way'

Zach stared defiantly into his mum's eyes. A hunk of watermelon that had been stuck to the ceiling slipped anchor and dropped onto Zach's mums head. Without a word Zach turned and began to pack the air compressor away.

Bob

Bob lent rakishly against the counter while Jean, dressed only in knickers and a collar, fellated a young man from Istanbul. 

For Martin, Bob's neighbour, this was not what he'd expected when Bob had told him to pop round to see Jean tuck into a large Turkish delight he had brought back from holiday for her.

Cindy

Cindy stood, paranoid and alone, in a sea of tallgrass.

Alone under a grey, leaden sky,

And no sign of other living souls as far as the eye can see.

Not a smallholding or a shack. 

Not even wisps of fire smoke to indicate some form of human activity.

Just Cindy, crushed under the weight of the emptiness around her at this prairie campsite,

Weeping bitterly with regret at her choice of venue for the first annual agoraphobics festival.

Sputum Sputnik Sponge-Plunger

Sputum Sputnik Sponge-Plunger was teased mercilessly at school, as you can imagine. 

The other children would never let him forget the day he called his teacher 'mum'.

Customs

How many ball bearings is too many ball bearings to conceal in your pockets?

Under normal operating conditions a baker’s dozen can easily be accommodated in a brace of trouser pockets. 

But should a stray ball bearing cause a loss of verticality and you go tumbling to the floor, the consequence of your body weight bearing down on 13 stainless steel ball bearings with quite some force will certainly leave you regretting your choice of contraband to smuggle through customs at the Portuguese border. 

I, for one, are unaware of any restrictions regarding the import of ball bearings into Portugal which makes the whole endeavour somewhat foolhardy.