Unrelated Stories

The absurd stories of nonsense and not much else from this guy right here.

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In an interview with, David Karp (Tumblr's founder) admitted, "Being on computers all the time makes me feel gross."

storyunrelated·10 hours agoText

The aliens were invading, the world was ending!

One man held the key to survival. He was presently leaning against a wall with his arms folded, chewing on a toothpick like a cool dude.

“What’s in it for me?” The man asked.

When pointed out that the fate of the world was at stake, the man merely shrugged.

“And how is that my problem?” The man responded.

When pointed out that he lived in the world, he remained unmoved and turned his face away with a humph.

Some people are difficult to reach.

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storyunrelated·18 hours agoText

He scratched his head.

“Now where has that cat got to now?” He asked himself, checking behind him just to make sure the thing wasn’t sneaking around his ankles. It wasn’t, so he kept searching.

Wandering a lazy circuit of his home he spied out the usual spots. On top of chairs, under chairs, beside chairs - the usual rotation. The cat was not in any of them. 

Eventually he came across the box. The box was leftover from an order he’d made recently and, obviously, the box was the cat’s newest favourite place. The box was big, and the cat liked to hide right in the bottom of it, right where it was darkest.

Seemed obvious. Bending down he gently lifted the box and peered into it. Two eyes caught the light and peered back. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“There you are,” he said.

From about his ankles came a purrping sound. It was the cat, angling to be fed.

He blinked.

He looked back into the box.

The eyes in the box blinked.

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storyunrelated·a day agoQuote
Proper Schooling (an old, old, old version)

“You know, when you hear about people being whisked off to strange and unusual places and having wonderful adventures there’s usually an element of wish fulfilment in them. They find out they’re special somehow like the chosen one or the first person in however many generations to show this or that talent. Or they’re somewhere that’s exciting and fun and filled with wonder and excitement. You never hear about people having to deal with this,” she gestured vaguely to everything currently surrounding her.

There was simply no quick or easy way of summing up all the things that were wrong with it all.

A pair of Prefects were working together to uproot a tree that contained a screaming group of pupils. They were working it like people shaking down apples. A class on a floor some way above them had apparently turned into a riot. There was a lot of screaming. Someone got thrown out of a window.

Their screaming stopped when they reached ground-level.

One building nearby caught on fire for no obvious reason. Pupils rushed over to start stealing things from it. A man was digging a hole and laughing to himself while his children watched.

Where was she supposed to start?

Andrew looked around to see if she was trying to indicate anything specific. When he saw that she wasn’t he turned back to her.

“What this are you referring to?” He asked.

Olivia couldn’t think of any proper way of conveying just what ‘this’ covered.

“This! This general this! This grimy, illogical nightmare. Someone just died over there! They fell out of a window! And no-one cares!”

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storyunrelated·a day agoQuote
Proper Schooling (One of the old, old, old versions)

“What did you do to him?”


“The guy. The guy who was there and now isn’t there anymore. What did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything to him. There was an accident. I was just nearby when it happened.”

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storyunrelated·a day agoText

“One day, child,” I said to my child as my child bawled away merrily in front of me. “One day all those nice little animals on your nappies and on your clothes and in your books, one day all of those animals will probably be extinct and it will be all our fault.”

Give or take a few.

I stood in silence for a moment and thought. My child kept on screaming. They did that.

“I’m not sure what I’m going to say to you on that day, honestly.”

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storyunrelated·2 days agoText

Lord Social Darwinst was having an issue, and the issue was this: his proteges kept dying.

Of course, his proteges did not know they were his proteges - that would have defeated the mechanism of the whole thing. Rather, his proteges were simply those he had selected at random and then inflicted from the shadows massive pain and misfortune upon, as was his custom.

The thinking behind this was fairly simply. Adversity bred strength, and strength was all that mattered. Thus, his proteges, exposed to such adversity, would either display strength and become honed and reformed, superior versions of themselves, superior people!

And once that happened he could then approach them directly and get started on properly shaping them into a tool of his will. Simple stuff.

Unfortunately though, for whatever reason, those people whose lives he kept ruining just kept on dying. It made no sense. Even the likeliest candidates, those with fierce will who struggled valiantly through having their whole worlds ripped from them thanks to Lord Social Darwinist’s secret machinations, kept on failing.

It was almost enough to make him start to think that the efforts of a single person could often be overwhelmed by the sheer terrifying weight of the world and that true success almost always came about as a result of co-operative effort and support.

But that made no sense. Lord Social Darwinist had never had help from anybody! After inheriting his father’s vast secret castle loaded with technology and wealth and after being tutored by the finest minds in the land (who he had then killed to keep them from teaching anyone else, that’s just sensible) and after personally going out and searching out those caches of knowledge and power created by people who were not him he had forged his fate entirely on his own! Without any outside help or influence! Just by the sweat of his own brow! Just through sheer force of will! 

And all that wealth he had. But that was his, so that didn’t count. He’d earned that by having it from birth. That was just part of him, so that was just him. Just like those secret books written by ancient masters - full of knowledge amassed over years by people who were not him and had put in work that he had not put in, but that wasn’t the same. That was completely different to relying on someone else.

Got that?


With all that being said, why couldn’t these people do it once he’d taken everything away from them without warning? Why couldn’t they triumph and thrive with him continually cutting them off at the knees from the shadows? Why did they all keep dying?!

It made no sense! 

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storyunrelated·2 days agoText

Smack smack smack. Someone was hammering in a post.

Intrigued by this, we wandered over to investigate.

“Good hammering technique,” my companion said and the one doing the hammering - let’s call them Stranger, for they were unknown to us - mopped their brow and squinted our way, for we were stood with our backs to the sun.

“Huh?” Said the Stranger. My companion inclined their head towards the post.

“Good hammering technique,” they repeated. The Stranger looked at the post, then seemed to realise what it was my companion was driving at. Clearly the heat of the day was getting the better of them.

“Oh, right, yes. Thank you.”

“Any particular reason you’re out here hammering this post on this fine, fine day?” My companion asked.

They did most of the talking, as should be obvious.

The Stranger squinted some more and made to reply only to pause and take a brief swig from a canteen hanging from their belt. They offered it to us, as well, but we both demurred. We didn’t know where they’d been.

“It’s to hang a sign off,” the stranger said, stoppering the canteen and hanging it from their belt again. “It’s a marker. We’re a quarter of the way, you see?”

We looked around. The land was flat, featureless. Behind us was the horizon, ahead of us was the horizon, to the sides of us was the horizon. There was nothing but more, and the more never seemed to end.

“Quarter of the way to where?” I asked and the Stranger looked surprised to hear me speak, or else just surprised by the question. They looked baffled.

“I don’t understand the question, I’m afraid,” they said.

We didn’t really know how to work from there.

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storyunrelated·3 days agoQuote
The Side of Angels [That’s a shitty working title]

“Aren’t you happy about that?! That I won’t kill you?!” She snapped.

“Oh, well, yes. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for not killing you!”


“Don’t - stop apologising! What is wrong with you?!”

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storyunrelated·3 days agoQuote

“What’s that?” Trishabolt asked, pointing.

Douglas looked at her hand, turned, and followed the direction of her point. He saw, amidst the spray and debris, someone else’s hand. It wasn’t attached to anything, it was just sitting there.

“It’s a hand,” Douglas said.

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storyunrelated·3 days agoText

The ‘Aversion Wall’ is a popular method of keeping people away from things you’d prefer to keep them away from, and operates on fairly basic psychological principles more than physical ones. 

Were you to look at one you’d say that it didn’t look like much of a wall at all but - and here’s the trick - you can’t actually look at an Aversion Wall, at least not without considerable effort and mental strain.

The point is, the wall reacts to the observer. Indeed, it reacts to anyone even vaguely aware of it, and just getting withing a certain radius will make one aware of it, will create a level of pressure. But the pressure is just the start, the real effect comes when you attempt to actively approach, that’s when it gets to work.

There are things everyone wants to avoid, this is known. There are the basic, simple, instinctual things that people want to avoid like pain and hunger and extremes of temperature and the like, and the Aversion Wall can create those impressions in the minds of interlopers if it has to, but typically it prefers to go deeper.

There are things that everyone wants to avoid that are personal to them. A particular memory, say, of someone who isn’t around anymore or someone who they hurt. Insecurities about themselves or how their lives have gone. Failures, mistakes, secrets - those sorts of things. Everyone has some.

And it is these that the Aversion Wall works on. Should anyone not appropriately keyed into its security systems attempt to approach, the wall will plumb their minds, probe out the most vulnerable point and then press on that point. Anyone approaching will find everything they don’t want to think about thrust foremost into their minds, becoming harder and harder to ignore with every step taken towards the wall.

The effect becomes almost unbearable should the wall actually come into view, hence why getting to see an Aversion Wall is such a rare experience, and one most would prefer to avoid.

A formidable barrier and no mistake, but not unbeatable.

Because nothing is unbeatable, not these days.

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storyunrelated·4 days agoText

“I know the modern trend tends to be for missiles and drones and hidden bombs and other such futuristic marvels and I can fully understand that - they are no-doubt efficient. But - but!”

He raised his arms and smiled in the shadow of the forest of barrels looming above and over him. With his arms fully up he took a deep breath in, held it, and then released it, thoroughly satisfied. His arms lowered again.

“But there’s just something about an awful lot of awfully big guns in one place, don’t you think?”

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storyunrelated·4 days agoText

It was a giraffe, but someone had done something to it. It wasn’t right.

The way it was standing, too still. Not even a flicker. Might as well have been a statue. And something was wrong with the head. The eyes were too big. Solid black and round, sticking out. 

As I watched, the whole thing flickered to the side, like life had missing frames. One side, then the other.

Then it started coming towards me.

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storyunrelated·5 days agoText

“Alright lads, now we all know the threat here: zombies. So if you happen to see anyone standing around in a creepy manner all covered in blood and not responding you all know what the standard response is?”

“Yes boss.”


“Ask ‘Are you alright?’ in a loud, clear voice and then stand there while they reveal their gross zombie face, yell and then start chewing on our throats.”

“That’s right. It’s just that last time some of you shot first when you saw that they were covered in blood and standing around in a zombie-rich environment and on that mission we had no dramatic causalities whatsoever, so we need to be clear on what’s actually expected of you. Okay?”

“Okay boss.”

“Good lads.”

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storyunrelated·5 days agoText

It was so late that it had circled around to being early. It was dark. She was hungry.

And so, being hungry, she’d gone downstairs to fix herself a little something something and the darkness, being dark, left the windows of the kitchen pitch-black portals of utter nothingness. So to speak.

So stared at one of them as she ate her sandwich, staring unblinkingly at the blackness. There was a back garden out there on the other side of the kitchen window, this she knew, but right then it was just black.

She couldn’t help but get the sense the black was staring back. Or, rather, something in the black. Something out there.

Irrational, she knew, but just one of those things. She could tell herself that it was just her mind playing tricks but her mind knew this already and kept playing the tricks anyway. She munched her sandwiched, she stared out the window, and she wondered if anything was looking back.

Eventually her baseless curiosity got the better of her and, on a whim and with her sandwich consumed, she moved to flick on the outside light. 

On the lawn outside was something. Some thing. Unclear what, but certainly a thing, and certainly not anything that had any right to be standing in her garden at this time of morning. It was pale.

She stared. She sighed.

“Alright, fine,” she said, taking one of the carving knives and going to unlock the back door. “Someone’s getting fucked up and I’ve got too much to do for it to be me.”

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storyunrelated·6 days agoText

And as another eye-wateringly expensive piece of military hardware flew right into the jaws of the giant, rampaging monster the Colonel overseeing the containment operation could only shake their head and grit their teeth.

“’Save money by going with a cheaper training programme’ they said,” the Colonel muttered. “’Go with the guy who trains everyone to fly straight at the problem firing wildly’ they said. They’ve got the whole sky and the one bit of it they want to be in is the bit of it occupied by slavering jaws.” 

In the background of the command room someone was talking about dropping nukes, for someone is always talking about dropping nukes in the background of all command rooms, regardless of what is happening. The Colonel put their head in their hands.

“Jesus Christ I can’t work in these conditions…”

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storyunrelated·6 days agoText

“Ah, that one of those new smartwatches, isn’t it? One of the ones that tracks things?”

“Oh yeah! It tracks all sorts! My heart rate, my body temperature, my blood oxygen level, which direction I’m facing, whether I’m smiling or not, what I ate last, what I want to eat next, my perverse sexual fantasies, my perverse revenge fantasies, if I fall over hard, if I fall over not hard enough, whether I say anything bad about the watch manufacturer, how much I poop and when I poop - and more besides! So much!”

“…why do you need any of this tracked, just to ask?”

“You know, I”m not sure. The ads said I did, but I’m really not sure…”

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storyunrelated·7 days agoText

The door was locked, and an expert had been brought in. The Expert.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, settle down, I’m here,” the Expert said breezily, breezing in much like a breeze might, their attitude supremely casual despite the pressure of the situation.

The door remained locked.

“We heard you could open any door,” said one of those gathered, wringing their hands. The Expert flounced their luxuriant wavy curls.

“Open any door, yes, remove any obstacle. To me nothing is unslicable, unhackable, no system is safe. Intrusion is my gift, my talent. Cracking security? Comes as easily to me as breathing. Code? I also breathe that. Just give me a keyboard and - hey, wait, what’s this?” The Expert was brought up short in their spiel when they attention actually, finally fell upon the locked door.

They were pointing at something. Those gathered looked at the Expert was pointing at.

“That’s a padlock,” one of them said.

It was indeed a padlock.

“Oh,” said the Expert, blankly. “Oh, um. I can’t - you see - I can’t actually hack that. Can’t hack padlocks, no. No code in there, you see? No systems, no circuits. Just…bits and…stuff…”

“So you can’t open this door?” Someone asked.

“I can! But I can’t. If it was different, yes, then I could easily. But this? No. But that’s not my fault, that’s the door’s fault. And yours, I suppose,” said the Expert.

An awkward pause.

“I do still get paid though. For coming out,” the Expert said.

An even more awkward pause.

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storyunrelated·7 days agoText

Panting, stripped to the waist, spattered with mud and clutching a still-gasping salmon he stumbled from the bathroom and almost walked right into her.

They locked eyes, they had a moment. For the merest, briefest slivers of a second he caught the unmistakable flash of judgement.

“I don’t have to justifying myself to you!” He cried, cradling his fish to his bosom before staggering off to do whatever it was he had in mind with the thing.

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storyunrelated·8 days agoText

The Father dangled by his fingertips from the precipe. Below? An abyss and doom. Above? The Son, who had betrayed him.

“Why, my son, why?” The Father gasped, his grip weakening. The Son, face set and resolute, raised a foot.

“Once, when you were changing my nappy, you outsmarted me and pointed my penis away so I couldn’t pee on you. I have never forgiven you for this,” said the Son, fighting to keep the rage from his voice.

The Father blinked.

“For real?” He asked.

His last words, as it turned out, unless you count ‘Aarrgggghhhh’ as a last word.

Which I don’t.

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