The Warp

It was not until the end of show wrap party that I was finally able to prise Alison Taylor's private phone number from her with a combination of charm, wit, guile, and alcohol. The blow that had finally shattered her defenses was a simple one, but one that I had been saving until the time was right.
“I shall write a play,” I said, “I shall write the most perfect romance ever written, for just the two of us, and then we shall act it out together, scene by scene.” She smiled coyly, in that delightful way that she had, and said that she would take me up on my offer on the condition that her paying for dinner wasn't a part of the story.

Continue reading "The Perfect Romance" »

Posted by Peter Brunton at 05:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Today I went to the shops. I was not supposed to go to the shops, but I went anyway, because I have not been to the shops for a week, and I wanted a bar of chocolate, and a packet of crisps, and some sweeties. Sometimes when I go to the shops, I also go to see a movie. They are a lot of fun, except the really serious ones where there are no jokes and lots of people being unhappy. I do not like people being unhappy. I also do not like the the films where people are killing one another, because as Mrs Bregman keeps telling me killing each other is very bad and people should not do it and if they have done it they should be very sorry. I am very sorry.

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Posted by Peter Brunton at 05:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Dear Madeline,
did you see the news today? That explosion that destroyed most of Washington? Yeah, that was me. I was doing a test run of the laser cannon and, well, I figured nobody would be upset if I got that idiot Bush out of the way. Boy was I wrong. I've never seen such a fuss. I mean you blow up one city and suddenly people are launching intercontinental ballistic nuclear warheads at your space fortress.

Continue reading "Love Letters" »

Posted by Peter Brunton at 05:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

“Look Grace, you can't keep this up. You gotta ask them for shorter hours or something, girl”
“I know Amy, but you know what they're like about shorter hours and stuff. They'll be all 'Oh, so I suppose saving the world isn't as important as your free time now, eh?', and I mean what the hell can ya say to that? It's like, it's people's lives that are in danger, and here's me worried because I can't get to lectures in time. What kinda priorities is that?”

Continue reading "Grace Carpenter and The Invaders From Mars" »

Posted by Peter Brunton at 05:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)