Geek Fiction Friday


It began on a Friday by the way of an email.

I had written to a colleague about what I was doing the previous night (hardly work related, I know), and had begun it like this: I was at Solar Geek Club last night getting my radiogram fixed

I shared this with Major Kerlin, a friend who I email quite frequently during the day to relieve boredom andhave a chat when we have time. His response: well it is a pleasant change from it was a dark and stormy night

True words. I imagined combining them and returned with:  It was a dark and stormy night, and I was at Solar Geek Club getting my radiogram fixed. Suddenly, The Geek looks up, eyes glinting in the silvery light that flickers through the windows as the thunder echoes loudly around the room…

And so Geek Fiction Fridays were born.

Major Kerlin has been also updating his blog with the continuing story. I have alternated the colours so that you can see how it grew.

It’s not always pretty, it’s always slightly ridculous and sometimes even erotic. I hope you get a giggle out of it. Here it goes. Enjoy (or don’t)!

Friday #1

It was a dark and stormy night, and I was at Solar Geek Club getting my radiogram fixed. Suddenly, The Geek looks up, eyes glinting in the silvery light that flickers through the windows as the thunder echoes loudly around the room as it lit up his macbook pro revealing glimpses of the complex equation he had spent the past three months working on; did she love him or did she not? Sometimes he felt that the Macbook Pro had feelings for him. There was something in the way it hummed under his fingers as he tapped out the equations; the way the little green light blinked at him occasionally, perhaps signalling to him that she wished to take their relationship farther than just of a Geek and a Machine. 

Suddenly the window blew open upon the back of a powerful gust of the heavy breathing storm outside, blowing the candle app on his iPhone out in the process.  The geek gathered himself from the fright and shook the candle back on as he guided himself across the room to shut the window. Behind him there was sudden bang, and he spun on his heels to find his computer gone and in it’s place there was nothing left but the pizza boxes of a months worth of dining in, seven coffee cups half filled with coffee, three cups still fully filled with cold tepid coffee destined never to be drunk and a smattering of empty coke zero bottles.  His ruminations on his eating habits were disrupted when he glanced out in the hallway the stabbing of loss and the bleakness of his life overtook him. His love and his life -not to mention his life’s work – was gone!

Grief over took him and he fell to the floor amidst the pizza boxes, coke bottles and computer magazines and cried, cried like he hadn’t cried since the cavernous disappointment of the Tron film remake had left him questioning what hope was left for mankind.  After 47 minutes or 2,820 seconds of solid blubbering he dragged himself up to his feet and confirmed to himself his decision to man up and let his mum make him a hot chocolate with marshmallows to calm him down. He hoped for the pink ones, they tasted the best. He also cringed as he thought he would have to ask her for another computer and at that thought, he decided he would ask his Dad.  Ever since his Dad had split from his Mum and ran to the arms of his ageing secretary he had been more carefree and loose with his money.  The geek figured that his Dad would be certain to say yes seeing he had agreed, just last week, to pay for his sister’s pole-dancing lessons. 

She was an aspiring stripper, which was unfortunate as she was not that pretty. She had thick glasses that highlighted her squinty eyes, and danced like a three-legged elephant on roller-skates. She was shaped somewhat like a lumpy hessian bag of potatoes that had been overstuffed and was bursting at the seams. Why their father had agreed to let her do this was beyond him, however he kept his mouth politely shut in the hope that he would put a good word in for him with her stunningly gorgeous best friend Agnes. 

He thought often and luridly about Agnes.  How her thick coke bottle glasses could, with the assistance of a sunny day, burn a hole right through a cinder block, how on a said bright sunny day her braces could blind an orphan and how her mishapen scull reminded him of custard apples. Oh! That exotic fruit with the creamy white fruit hidden behind the bulbous green lumps – who would think that something so misshapen and ugly could be containing something so lusciously sweet. He absently wiped the drool from his lip as he thought of ravishing Agnes as they supped Kool Aid and discovered each other’s internal circuitry, while they listened to the blissful sounds of a 1987 dot matrix printer, as it ejects a continuous  sheet of love poems that have been translated into binary code – their language of love. Pages of inky black 1s and 0s marching out in orderly lines across the snowy paper, it spills across their bodies, the ink smudging against their skin. And as the printer nears its completion their two warped forms buckled, shuddered, withdrew, drew and creaked like a disused and forgotten fixie bike that had been left to rust in decades of rotten winters and howling winds, then rediscovered and used again. 

Alas, the geek’s reverie was interrupted as a voice from the hallway like a siren’s song drew him from his room to peek eagerly around the corner. Agnes. Oh God! She stood there, her silhouette glowing in the dim hallway light. He pressed  his hand to his mouth and …

Friday #2

…cut the insides of his gums like a steak knife cutting through a shoe on an informercial.  Curses!  Will I ever get used to these braces he wondered.  Agnes’ voice mumbled out the words “Hello? Hello is that…” Her shrill,  tremulous voice was cut short by a honking cough and a sharp “schgghh’ as she cleared the phlegm from her throat. The Geek quivered; the sound sending lusty, electric shocks flickering down his spine. He rushed around the corner whipping his crusty used hanky from his vest pocket in the process in order to offer it to the girl of his dreams.  Only he hadn’t counted on the look of surprise and distaste that flashed across her face which quickly turned to amusement. He looked down and saw his embarrassment pushing against his pants. He flushed a heated red and, uttering a squeak, he quicklyturned on his heels to flee.  Only in his lustful haze he’d forgotten his collection of Commodore 64 computers he kept in the hallway and which sent him sprawling to the floor in a jumbled heap like Ned Kelly’s recently discovered skeleton, except with the head still there and more skin and meat, though not much more meat.

Agnes stood looking over him and ripped off her poly-blend shirt.  She stood there in all of her glorious nakedness and gazed at him like a hungry lion and said lie back and think of England” in a husky voice she had heard once on an episode of a Country Practice and had been practicing ever since.  She pounced upon the Geek, but alas was too slow as he had rolled over onto his side and was scrambling to his feet as she leaped, and she came crashing heavily down upon the hard, plastic computers, hitting her head on a hard white corner. He froze and stared aghast at the red blood as it oozed from the wound across her glorious custard apple shaped skull.  She groaned again, less like the husky, hungry lion and more like the vulnerable proboscis monkey that she resembled (see picture). The colour had left her face and the blood stood out vividly against her pale skin.  A strange animalistic shriek began to sound from the back of his throat and his vision began to blur. He hated blood. Oh god how he hated it!  As the sound left his ears and the world closed in him he toppled forward and…

Proboscis Monkey

Friday #3

….passed out into a world as black and empty as a laptop that hadn’t been recharged in time.  Agnes, in a daze, mopped the blood from her face with her poly-blend shirt with one hand while the other, seeing the opportunity, took advantage of the situation and stepped inside the Geek’s room.

She had never seen the inside before; just the closed door that seemed to emit an electronic hum, like it was alive and waiting. She always felt she was being watched by the room.  It gave her the creeps. But it had always intrigued her. What did he do in there?  She gave a sideways glance at the Geek, who lay there motionless; his skinny chest rising and falling gently and his pallid skin glowing eerily in the blinking lights and the erratic flashes of lightning, walked straight towards the empty desk and smiled to herself a wicked twisted smile.  She had gotten rid of the Geek’s macbook pro and her one competitor for his attention and love.  Now he was all hers and all she needed to do was wake him up.

She knelt beside him, took a deep breath and, trembling with excitement and anticipation, she kissed him on the lips. Nothing happened. She tried again. Still nothing. She slapped him lightly on one cheek, then the other and then harder and then harder again. Nothing! Sighing, she sat back on her heels, her ample flesh spilling around her like an overstuffed bean bag, and thought about how on earth she could revive him.  Like an apple falling on Newton’s head the idea came to her in a moment of pure inspiration and she raced back into the Geek’s room and picked up two cups of the tepid coffee the Geek had left.  She emptied the contents across his face and for good measure dropped the cups onto his head, much like the before mentioned apple on Newton’s scone.

The Geek awoke with a start and to his embarrassment started sobbing. He sobbed with the deep chest-wracking heaves of a 5 year old;  snot bubbling from his nose like a snail who has been sprinkled with salt, and bottom lip sucking in against his teeth and a single strand of drool swinging slowly down in a silvery line, coming to nestle in a damp pool on his shirt.  Suddenly, he sat up but was knocked straight back down with the ease of pushing over a drunk baby giraffe by Agnes as she leapt upon his frail frame.  The Geek, too stunned to react, acquiesced to Agnes’ tongue as it pushed its way deep into his mouth past the silent metal sentries glued to his teeth.  The blood from Agnes’ wound mixed with the coffee still dripping from the Geeks face as his dreams were all realised at once. This was it! The taste of salt, blood, tears, snot and stale coffee filled his mouth and nose and the soft flesh on top of him, his hands flailing like dying fish beside him. His ears were so full of the sound of his quickly beating heart that he almost didn’t hear…







…the splat of the fish his sister had hurled at their writhing figures in shear desperation and disgust upon stumbling upon their shenanigans. 

The Geek’s sister, Gladys, wound up again and was stopped by a sturdy hand grabbing her wrist. Agnes’ tight grip pulled her down and Gladys grunted as the fish was crammed into her mouth by a giggling Geek and she was shoved out the door. She stood there, wide eyed and astonished before she burst into tears and ran like a hobbled baby calf to her pole room where the thought of tiring herself out with hours of awkward rehearsal somehow cheered her up. 

Meanwhile, amongst the scattered Commodore 64’s, pooling blood and cold coffee, our protagonist the Geek was in a daze as he lay there panting and delirious with happiness in Agnes’ arms. The experience had been awkward, brief but so exhilaratingly wonderful that he…



…felt strangely like the time he had had the asthma attack at the panda enclosure at the zoo.  One part light headedness, one part shortness of breath and 3 strange parts of dampness in various parts of his body. But unlike the zoo experience, he didn’t feel embarrassed. Now he felt like an elphin warrior from one of those ridiculously brilliant fantasy books that he bought for $2 at used furniture shops where he often wondered why they sold books.  These thoughts tired him out though and he grasped one last leeringly happy look at Agnes and proceeded to re-enact the last 15 minutes of his life, but this time concentrating more on what had actually taken place and less on high fiving himself in the discarded mirror that lay against the wall of the hallway.

Agnes meanwhile had decided to roll up a superman comic to stick behind her head to cushion the enthusiastic bumping against the sticky wooden floor. She kept glimpsing herself in the shattered mirror and pretending that she had just won the nobel prize for entymology and was enjoying the robust attentions of the highest scientific minds in a plush hotel room in Geneva.  It was when she flitted about amongst these fanciful dreams that she would think back to all those times her mother had told her…




….about the birds and the bees and she would have a slight nagging feeling that somehow she had confused something along the way about which bees she was meant to be studying, especially as she had found herself a frequent visitor of her many and varied lecturers many and varied offices and at many and varied out of office hours and in many and varied inappropriate outfits.  She smiled a wicked and content smile at these thoughts and this was enough to finish the Geek off as he squealed the words “mura fisahr!!”, a Vulcan phrase meaning: “drop your phaser!” which were the first words that popped to his head and of which Agnes understood not a word but it made her feel like she should be dropping some sort of phaser, which was a rather odd sensation, she thought.  As Agnes contemplated the oddities of her own private thoughts the Geek collapsed, utterly spent like a tube of toothpaste that just cannot be sqeezed any further, onto her and finally allow us to take a break from their awkward writhing and stilted intimacy and skip to another part of town to join the Geeks father and and his giant labradoodle called Helen.

Helen and The Geek’s father (for the ease of the writer and the reader, lets call him Otto, shall we? For even though that is not his real name, we should endeavour to protect his privacy for the intimate details we are yet to reveal about him may embarrass and distress him. So Otto it is for now, and to continue:) Helen and Otto were frolicking on the beach, and while this may sound lovely, it was not. The beach was not an idyllic beach but a perfect example of those horrid English beaches where rocks polished by an age of being licked by the waves replace sand and where it was constantly gloomy, miserable and wet in a way that beaches shouldn’t be wet.  What made this even odder, was that the beach was not in England (nor Wales for that matter!), but in the middle of the Australian bush. It was in fact a movie set; old, mouldering and deserted by a group of idealistic young film makers who had the magnificent idea of making an English period drama in the harsh Australian climate, ploughed all of their life savings and the last scrap of their creative enthusiasm into the project before admitting defeat and turning away to drink themselves into a sorrowful mess. 

The movie set was a favourite place for Otto to come to as it managed to remind him of not just his young carefree days in England where he had wooed and seduced the Geek’s and Gladys’ mother Robert, as well as the early happy days with the two kids before they became the blood sucking life draining wretches they had turned into, but mostly because it reminded him of the joys he had found in the arms of his ageing secretary two days before at that same deserted movie set beach. 
Helen barked like a dog that had smoked 10 packs of cigarettes a day since her puppy days as she sniffed drying dog poo left by herself two days before as she watched her master and the bony secretary doing strange things together on the ground. They had intrigued and disgusted her and the turd was her way of expressing that to Otto. Not that he had noticed, of course. He was…




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