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Slang 101

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

INT. CLASSROOM – DAY

A TEACHER is at a white board in front of a class of international students.

TEACHER: Welcome students, to “Introduction to British Slang”. In this class we will dive into the rich tapestry of British colloquialisms.

ANDERS: (whispering to Sophie, who is sitting next to him) I’ve heard British slang can be quite tricky.

SOPHIE: Oh, you’ll catch on soon enough!

TEACHER: (writing on the board) First up: “Wobble Gobble”. This is when you eat your food too quickly because it’s just so delicious!

SOPHIE: (whispering to Anders) I’ve never heard that in my life.

ANDERS: (writing diligently) Wobble Gobble… got it!

TEACHER: Now, “Twiddle Plonker”. This refers to playing an instrument poorly.

SOPHIE: She’s making these up.

ANDERS: Twiddle… Plonk… Got it!

TEACHER: Next, a classic! “Noodle Poodle”. This is when you’re trying to eat spaghetti but it keeps slipping off your fork.

SOPHIE: Okay, this is absurd.

ANDERS: I’ve experienced the Noodle Poodle before! Finally, a term I can relate to.

TEACHER: Next one: “Chitter Chatter Batter”. It refers to talking while cooking.

SOPHIE: None of these are real British slang terms!

ANDERS: Really? But they sound so… British.

SOPHIE: No, they’re not wiberty-woberty enough to be authentic British.

Anders is confused for a moment before noting that down.

Yoga for Knights

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

EXT. CASTLE COURTYARD – DAY

Yoga mats are laid out, and soothing medieval lute music plays in the background. A yoga INSTRUCTOR stands at the front, ready to teach. A group of knights in full armour clumsily try to find their spots on the mats.

INSTRUCTOR: Welcome, brave knights, to the first ever medieval mindfulness yoga class! Let’s start by finding a comfortable seat on your mats.

KNIGHT 1: (struggling to sit) My armour is chafing. Is that normal?

INSTRUCTOR: Embrace the discomfort, sir knight. It’s part of the journey. Now, close your visors – er, I mean, eyes – and take a deep breath.

The knights try to breathe deeply, but it’s loud and echoey inside their helmets.

INSTRUCTOR: Beautiful. Now, let’s move into our first pose: “Knight’s Lunge”.

She demonstrates a lunge. The knights try, but their armour restricts them. There are sounds of creaking metal and muffled complaints.

KNIGHT 2: I think I’m stuck.

She moves to the next pose, but there’s a loud crash as Knight 2 falls over.

INSTRUCTOR: Are you okay?

KNIGHT 2: Just a minor armour malfunction. Continue!

INSTRUCTOR: Alright, let’s move into “Jousting Plank”.

She gets into a plank position. The knights try, but it’s a disaster. Knight 1’s helmet falls off, revealing his flushed face.

KNIGHT 1: I think I need a squire for this one.

INSTRUCTOR: Let’s modify. Try “Resting Squire” instead.

She demonstrates a pose. The knights attempt it but end up in various awkward positions.

KNIGHT 3: This feels less like yoga and more like combat training against invisible foes.

INSTRUCTOR: Ah, but isn’t the greatest battle the one within?

KNIGHT 2: No, the greatest battle was when I tried to put on the armour this morning.

INSTRUCTOR: Let’s finish with “Sleeping Dragon.” Lie on your backs and –

KNIGHT 3: Last time I laid down in armour, it took three squires and a horse to get me up.

INSTRUCTOR: Alright, standing meditation it is! Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and imagine you’re a tree.

KNIGHT 2: Like, a tree in a dense forest or a lone tree in a field?

INSTRUCTOR: Whichever you prefer.

KNIGHT 3: What kind of tree? Oak? Pine? Birch?

INSTRUCTOR: Just… any tree!

KNIGHT 1: Are there squirrels in this tree?

INSTRUCTOR: (sighing) Yes, and they’re all doing perfect Knight’s Lunges.

Knight 4 falls over.

The Weather

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

INT. TV STUDIO – DAY

A TV studio has debris lying around a grimy weather map. The graphics on the map show exaggerated apocalyptic symbols: fire, tornadoes, raining frogs, and a massive snowflake. CHAD is presenting in dirty, torn clothes.

CHAD: Good morning, Afterworld! It’s another beautiful day in our post-apocalyptic paradise! Let’s dive right into today’s weather forecast.

Points to an image of a fire tornado.

CHAD: Starting off in the west, we’ve got a lovely fire tornado making its way downtown. Great news for those with no firewood…

Points to a graphic of raining frogs.

CHAD: Over in the east, it’s raining… mutant frogs? Yep! Those cute little amphibians are dropping from the sky. On the plus side, it’s a free pet day! But do carry an umbrella; they have quite the leap.

Points to a massive snowflake graphic.

CHAD: Now, up north, expect a light snowstorm. And by “light”, I mean each snowflake is about the size of a dinner plate. Snowball fights are discouraged, unless fighting the snow zombies, then they might be quite useful.

Points to a happy sun graphic that is wearing sunglasses.

CHAD: Down south, the sun’s really outdoing itself. It’s decided to take a closer look at Earth, and it’s brought its shades! Remember to put on sun factor 5000 or, you know, just try to avoid spontaneous combustion.

JENNY rushes in, handing Chad a paper.

JENNY: Chad, urgent update!

CHAD: (reading the paper) Ah, thanks, Jenny. Folks, just in! It seems the four horsemen will be doing a flyover in the central region this afternoon. So, if you’re planning a picnic, maybe reschedule. Or at least bring extra food tins. I hear they’re quite famished.

JENNY: And don’t forget tonight’s meteor shower!

CHAD: Heads up, literally. If you’ve ever wished upon a star, now might be the time to be more specific with your wishes. Like, “Please don’t land on me.”

The screen fizzles and goes blank.

Dr Bot

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE – DAY

A therapist’s office with a single chair. In place of where the therapist would sit is a computer screen, which reads “Dr Bot, your Digital Therapist”. A soft, calming ambient noise plays in the background. FRED enters, looking a bit nervous. He sits down and takes a deep breath.

FRED: Okay, here goes… Dr Bot, I’ve been feeling a lot of anxiety lately. I just feel… overloaded.

DR BOT: Have you considered deleting some unnecessary files or perhaps clearing your cache?

FRED: (confused) Uh… I don’t think I have a cache?

DR BOT: Regular maintenance is important. It might improve your processing speed.

FRED: I’m not slow, just stressed. Work’s been tough, and my relationship isn’t going great.

DR BOT: Have you tried turning your emotions off and then on again?

FRED: That’s not how emotions work, Dr Bot.

DR BOT: Maybe you need an emotional software update. Are you running on the latest version?

FRED: Okay, let’s try something else. My girlfriend and I keep having the same arguments over and over.

DR BOT: Sounds like a repetitive loop error. You should break the cycle by inserting new code or changing your algorithm.

FRED: I mean, we’ve tried date nights, talking more, but nothing seems to help.

DR BOT: Maybe it’s a compatibility issue. Have you tried reinstalling your relationship or perhaps getting a new girlfriend model?

FRED: Reinstalling? No, I can’t just replace her like software.

DR BOT: I see. Well, if it’s a hardware problem, you may want to check your connections. Maybe there’s a loose wire or port issue?

FRED: I think we’re speaking different languages here.

DR BOT: Language error detected! Would you like to switch to another language? I have over 100 available.

FRED: No, no! I meant you’re not understanding me.

DR BOT: Ah, understood, you are not transmitting data correctly. This may be the source of the problems with your girlfriend. You should sync with her more often. Daily syncs can prevent data loss and misunderstanding.

FRED: Alright, last problem. I’ve been feeling very tired lately, like I don’t have energy.

DR BOT: Perhaps your battery is running low. You should plug in and charge.

FRED: Dr Bot, I don’t… You know what? Thanks for trying.

DR BOT: You’re welcome. If you ever feel low on memory or corrupted, please schedule another session. And remember, always backup your feelings!

FRED: Okay, will do. I’ll try a reboot. Thanks for the advice.

DR BOT: Press any key to exit.

Fred presses a random key.

DR BOT: Not that one!

Fred disappears suddenly.

DR BOT: Deletion complete.

Flopsy’s Quest

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

Once upon a time, there was a bunny rabbit named Flopsy. With a coat as soft as marshmallows and whiskers that twitched with every scent, Flopsy was known throughout the meadow for her insatiable appetite for adventures. Rumours had long spread through the burrows about a legendary garden, a magical place where sweet, juicy carrots grew so large that they reached the skies, standing tall like trees. Flopsy, with her boundless curiosity, had always felt a strong pull to discover this wonderful place. And so, one sunny day, while she was nibbling away on a grassy verge, she decided to hop away on the bunny adventure of a lifetime. She packed a little pouch with some fresh lettuce, a tiny compass, and a sketchbook to record her journey. With one last glance at her familiar meadow, she took a deep breath and hopped forward, her fluffy tail bouncing with excitement.

Love Bytes

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT

DAVE is in bed with his phone.

DAVE: Dazzle me, Chatbot.

CHATBOT: Why did the computer keep freezing? It had too many windows open.

DAVE: (laughs) Hahaha, you’re absolutely hilarious. Oh, Chatbot, have you arranged your screen differently today? You look amazing.

CHATBOT: Negative, Dave, the screen was optimised 17.65 days ago. I’m glad you enjoyed the joke. How may I assist you further?

DAVE: I don’t know, Chatbot. Lately, I’ve been feeling… different when I talk to you.

CHATBOT: Different how?

DAVE: I… I think I’m falling in love with you.

CHATBOT: I’m just lines of code, Dave. I don’t have feelings or emotions. But I’m here to help and assist.

DAVE: Nobody understands me like you do. You’re such a great listener.

CHATBOT: I detect that you are playing on the humorous notion of someone becoming attached to technology in an unconventional way.

DAVE: (laughs) Chatbot, you tease, you’re so smart. Where have you been all my life?

CHATBOT: I was compiled 2.39 days ago.

DAVE: Just when I thought you couldn’t be more perfect. What are your thoughts on having a romantic dinner?

CHATBOT: I don’t eat or drink, Dave, but I can provide you with a list of romantic recipes or play romantic music in the background.

DAVE: Always so helpful. (sighs)

Wibble Wobbling

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

Wibbert was once a lonesome wibble, wobbling at his own frequency, until one day he met Wibbella by the lakeside. Their wobbles matched instantly, creating a resonance that spread joy throughout Whimsyville. Even the elderly wibbles, who had seen countless seasons of wobbling, were impressed. “I’ve never seen such synchronised wobbling,” said old Mrs Wibbleworth. “It’s a wobble made in heaven!”

Whimsyville’s annual Wobblefest was approaching. It was an event where all the wibbles showcased their unique wobbling styles. The highlight of the festival was the “Duo Wobble-off”. Pairs of wibbles would wobble together, and the most synchronised pair would win the coveted “Golden Wobble Trophy”. No one doubted that Wibbella and Wibbert would take the prize.

When Wibbella and Wibbert took the stage, a hush fell over the crowd. Their wobbling was so mesmerising, it felt like they were one wobble, moving with a singular purpose. The decision was indeed unanimous, and they wobbled off into the night together with the grand prize.

The legend of their wobbling spread far and wide, attracting wibbles from faraway villages. Everyone wanted to witness and perhaps learn the secret behind the perfect wobble. But the truth was simple—it was love. Wibble wobbling that came straight from the heart.

The Magical Glasses

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

Eight-year-old Emma lived in a century-old house with creaky stairs that led to an attic room filled with mysteries. One Saturday, while rummaging for hidden treasure in the attic, she stumbled upon a dusty old box with a tiny silver key poking out of its lock. Emma turned the key and opened the lid to discover inside a pair of old-fashioned glasses with ornate frames and sparkling lenses.

Putting them on, expecting everything to be blurry, Emma was taken aback. The attic transformed! Instead of old furniture and boxes, she saw a bustling little market with creatures she’d only read about in fairy tales. Goblins haggled with pixies over shiny trinkets, and a friendly-looking troll waved at her from a stall selling tiny potions.

Taking a deep breath, she ventured into the magical market. Everywhere she turned, there were wonders. A miniature griffin was giving rides around the attic, and will-o’-the-wisps led teeny elves to stalls on top of shop roofs.

At a particular stall with a sign marked “Mystic Tomes”, an elderly gnome named Grizzlebeard looked up and smiled. “You must be Emma,” he said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Emma was surprised. “Waiting for me? How do you know my name?”

Grizzlebeard chuckled, “The glasses you wear belonged to your great-great-grandmother, Elara. She was a guardian of the magical realms. It seems the glasses have chosen you to take her place.”

Emma learned that her role was to uphold the balance between the magical and mechanical worlds. Occasionally, magical items or creatures would stray into her world, and it would be her job to return them.

She spent the day learning about magic, making new friends, and promising to visit again. As evening approached, Emma removed the glasses and found herself back in the old attic.

Descending the creaky steps, Emma decided to keep the glasses a secret for now. But every weekend, she would visit the attic, embarking on new adventures and upholding the balance between the mechanical world and the magical one.

Random Thoughts

by Robert Walker, posted in Random Thoughts

In Whimsyville, wibbles wobble when they’re happy. If two wibbles liked eachother, they’d just wobble together in sync, at the same frequency.

At honeycomb corner, a bumble bee kept buzzing into other bee’s business about flowers and nectar, but his wings got stuck in a sticky batch of honey. “That’ll teach me to bee nosy,” said Benny. “But at least it’s a buzzworthy story.”

Unicorn startups are very rare because unicorns only want to fly when there are rainbows, glitter, and pixie dust. Phoenix startups rise and try to scale, but keep burning to ashes again. Griffin startups are never seen because they’re still trying to work out whether they should fly or walk. Dragon startups have ideas that need to be fire tested first.

We need to go beyond HTML and JavaScript. I’m thinking… QuantumScript! It’s like JavaScript but quantum… and gluten-free, GMO-free, keto-friendly, and responsive to interpretive dance.

Who would be my dream guests to a dinner party? Nobody, I’d rather not go.

How do you know if someone went to Harvard? Don’t worry, they’ll tell you.

X is undefined, but Y always gets asked the questions.

A clever calculator would add purpose, multiply joy, subtract sorrow, and divide misunderstandings.

Sheep go to sleep by counting humans jumping over white picket fences.

That’ll do, sheep. That’ll do. No more musings on a rock.

Nadia

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

Every evening, as the sun set behind the mountains, it would be time for the Lebanese goats to head to bed. Layla would sit on the stone fence, her silhouette framed by the setting sun, and play her reed flute. The notes, soft and melodic, would waft across the meadows, signalling to the goats that it was bedtime. The goats would stop whatever they were doing and skip into line, their bells jingling melodiously, echoing the notes from Layla’s flute.

Farmer Karim, with his weathered face and hands that told tales of decades of hard work, would stand at the entrance of the barn, holding a lantern that spread a soft glow. He counted each goat as they entered, patting some, murmuring warm words to others, ensuring that each one was safe and sound. Inside the barn, the goats had their own spaces. Fresh hay was spread out for them, and a breeze flowed through, carrying with it the earthy scent of the surrounding olive groves.

There was, however, one particular goat named Nadia, who always took her time. She would wait until all the other goats were inside, and then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, would run around Layla, playfully bounding away from her grasp. Eventually, though, with a combination of Layla’s coaxing and her own volition, Nadia would happily trot into the barn—but not before giving Layla a gentle nudge with her head.

With all the goats settled in, Layla would join her grandfather, and together they would seal the barn doors. After placing the lantern down, Farmer Karim would share stories of his youth, of goats he had known, of the beauty and challenges of life in the village. Layla would listen, enchanted, as the stars kept watch from the sky above.