"The Old Man and the C"

“Would you boys like some tea?” purred Darina Adventure, brew master and cleaner of the Ab Ovo Institute for Science and Chicken Farming. Both Professor Trin Fallacy and Professor Tee Jay waved her on.
“I leave it down here then,” and she teetered her wrinkled mess of a body to the far end of the room spilling sugar and milk as she went.
Professor Jay scanned the information on the clipboard, flicking back and forth between pages.
“According to the brickwell, brinell and vickers test, ‘sorry’ seems to be the hardest word.”
Professor Fallacy crossed his arms indignantly and spoke.
“I believe my theory is vindicated. You owe me an apology Jay.”
Outside, lightning hissed through the air as a seasonal storm picked up pace.
“That’s pathetic Fallacy, this in no way supports your theory. Words that on one level seem similar can be completely different on another level.
Look at this,” he said presenting a page from his writing pad.
“I see,” said Fallacy, not really seeing.
“Now look at this,” said Jay turning over to the next leaf.
“Oh…” disappointment crossed his face, “…I sea.”
“Icy? It’s a fucking blizzard out there,” said the newly arrived Professor Nitt Mustard.
“Now the circle is complete,” declared Professor Jay, “and look I also drew a square and some sort of uh… squiggly thing.”
“Nitt,” said Fallacy “we need one of your experimental machines to help us out with our project.”
Mustard was delighted. “Which one? They’re all equally fucktastic.”
“We’re not really sure. What does that one do?”
“This bitch,” said Nitt, patting a large grey box, “is the Non Sequiter Mk2. You input all the information you have, all the data and results you have already collected and it provides you with a reply that has no relevance whatsoever.”
“It’ll end world hunger,” declared Fallacy.
Jay and Nitt nodded in disagreement.
“And what about that grey box you’re patting?”
Nitt smirked, “I just invented this fucker. It should solve all your problems. It’s the Deus Ex Machina. Here let me fire it up.”
“Are you sure its safe,” asked Fallacy
“Of course," laughed Mustard, “there are maybe two things in the entire world that would dangerously disrupt this machine.”
A moment after the machine was switched on, and just a moment before Professor Mustard was to tell them that milk was one of the two things in the entire world that could dangerously disrupt the machine, it exploded, killing all present.

Coroners Verdict: Death by Ms. Adventure.

J.A.A.D

Cloudy eyes opened, registering little before them. A mouth twitched, yellow and wet with spit. A body shuddered, not with cold or fear but from that other thing.
Tony Jaa made no attempt to forget the dream. Instead, he watched the orderly carry the stinky Englishman away and did his best not to inhale the noxious vapour river of booze and piss that trailed in their wake. All around him were dying men. The stinky wrinkled excrement of juvenile times.
Sometimes his head felt heavy and he would fall into acid dark or not, conditional to the presence of strength. Less and less could he rely on the tiger’s vigour to remain conscious. Less and less did the vinegar sterility of his world inspire him to try.
The dream had wafted in on a strange liquid breeze, settling peacefully and yet disturbing profoundly. A drunken master long gone from life had appeared on a hazy field of yellow grass and ruby soil. Furious movements, magnificent forms; the feats of prowess painted a glorious carnival of life.
“I was once as you were. I was worshipped and loved. Time grew jealous of these things. Those that would have raised me on shoulders crushed me under foot. Past victories were meaningless. The mistake I made…”
A dragon appeared, its chest slashed trice. It burnt the sky with spirit alone until all creation could but stare at its wonder. Then ashes rained, the dragon no more.
“…You made it too.”

D.A.D

“No joke, nipples like mushrooms. So I looked her right in the eye and said, ‘the name is Bond, James Bond.’ And she said, ‘I know who you are Mr. Bond, my name is Shebe Moisty.’
Shebe Moisty! Can you fucking believe it? So I said, ‘tell me Shebe, are you a cold-blooded or a hot-blooded woman?’ That threw her. So she pouted and said, ‘how does one go about telling?’ And you are not going to believe this, I said, ‘personally, I like to stick my toe in the deep end.’ And I followed that up straight away for a double whammy, ‘if the temperature is agreeable, perhaps I’ll go for a few laps.’
The Asian orderly gently removed the old telephone receiver from Bond’s matchstick fingers. “Time for a bath Mr. Bond.” James looked away, out the window where the old hickory tree was flaking and whittling to dust. “I’m talking on the phone,” he grumbled.
“Sure Mr. Bond, and you can go back to talking after you’ve had a bath.”
“That old tree…” James trailed off, his knuckles whitened.
“All things that live die, Mr. Bond.”
“Do you expect me to die?”
The orderly gathered the rags of James up in his arms.
“No Mr. Bond, after your bath, I expect you to talk.”