EP Flash: Troy Trooper
Troy Trooper
By Alex Holden
“Piece of crap!” The boy kicked the toy soldier hard and it flew across the room.
“Ow,” said Troy, as he warily checked himself for damage, “what was that for?”
“Piece of crap!” The boy kicked the toy soldier hard and it flew across the room.
“Ow,” said Troy, as he warily checked himself for damage, “what was that for?”
Rated R. Contains violence, profanity, and crimes against chemistry.
Referenced sites:
Mirrormask
Rufus didn’t relent. “How come you ain’t got a license, skillet face?”
Shari struggled to keep her own distaste under control. Emotion could screw up the reading, her own pheromones and toxins clogging up the massive olfactory bulb and entorhinal cortex that occupied most of her cranium. She took a deep breath, pulling air through her huge nostrils, trying to calm herself. At least she didn’t have to see the man’s face.
A “state of the podcast” address, in which we talk at some length about subscription counts, finances, our plans to become a 501(c)(3) non-profit corporation, and what to expect from Escape Pod in the near future. If this sort of thing bores you, you can skip it with absolutely no harm to your health, the environment, or our self-esteem. But if you want to know the intimate details of our podcast, then here you go.
Rated X. For blasphemy and anatomy. Really.
Referenced sites:
I Should Be Writing
Dag Viggo Lok√∏en
I did the sensible thing. I screamed and ran to the bathroom, where I started tossing cups of water on my crotch in the hopes of extinguishing the flames. My boyfriend ran in behind me, started the shower up, and tossed me into the freezing water. But the fire continued to rage, despite the dousing.
At that point, I realized that I wasn’t actually in any pain. I stepped out of the stream of water, teeth still chattering, and held my hand in the blue flames. “This should hurt,” I said.
Rated G. Suitable for macrolevel quantum explicate children of all ages.
Referenced podcasts:
Skepticality
Hooting Yard
Epistaxis Time
“Yes, obviously. But its judgement is rather lacking, wouldn’t you say? Trying to translocate itself to the Ancestors’ Earth on a whim? For that matter, Instructor, I might also question your own judgement. Imagine, teaching macrolevel effects as an introduction to subquantum nonlocality!”
Arcaprun jumped up and ran to its Instructor’s defence. “Aw, Prundis, you know it wasn’t Grap’s fault. It was just a little accident.”
“_Just_ an accident?” Prundis countered drily. “You neglected to factor in lightspeed lag when making observations to determine coordinates and lost yourself halfway across the universe! It took me three weeks to locate you! I was worried sick, Arc.”
The campaign had begun well. The Alarians swept south into goblin territory, and Alarian rifles quickly overmatched goblin bows and crossbows.
In just a few weeks of fighting, the goblin population was halved. The goblin chieftains realized that they were doomed without help and did the only thing they could.
They asked their god, Twenty Claw, for help.
Rated PG. Contains explicit cattiness and violent self-reflection.
“Too bad it’s raining. Hey, Lauren, make the rain stop, okay?” He reaches across the table and tousles my hair affectionately.
I bare my teeth in the semblance of a grin. “Ha ha. Sorry, I can’t.”
“I know.” He shakes his head, laughs ruefully. “It’s just . . . Maya could.”
Rated PG. Contains explicit existentialism and violence of the soul. (The intro contains minor profanity and frank discussions of current events, and is likely to be more offensive than the story.)
Penguin listened raptly to the new voice. He knew this was his guardian angel, she who would guard and protect him forever. Sure enough, the Creator set him gently into his angel’s hand. Her hands, much smaller than the Creator’s–which was fitting since who among the angels had such power as the Creator?–were a bit sticky. He squealed as she held him aloft to
receive the glorious light.
“Look, Daddy! It’s a peng’n!”
“Yes it is, Angie. It’s a very nice penguin. Did you thank the nice man for the balloon?”
Rated R. Contains graphic violence and disturbing images.
“Piper,” I screamed, fumbling in my purse. Too late. He brought his pipe to his lips and blew a note that almost made my eyeglasses shatter. Over at the sandbox, Nathan rose to his feet. He started moving towards the man. All the children did.
Rated PG. Contains sexual situations and, unrelated, the loss of innocence.
So, the Godmother. She takes ragged, smudged things and turns them into beautiful Princesses. Why, I don’t know. A hobby? A calling? An obsession? Is she righting the wrongs done to her when she was young?
When I first started here, I had a fantasy. That the Godmother would pluck me out of the row of humpbacked, squinting Seamstresses and make me, too, a beautiful Princess. With a gown sewn by…well, by the poor wenches too old or ugly to catch the Godmother’s eye.