Build Your Own Remote Modulating Boiler (Fragments From Books That Don’t Exist #119)

Simon Moses thought hard about the situation. It was not going to be easy. The missing persons database was an old version slated for deprecation, and it was his job to upgrade the damn thing. No one had touched the system software for nearly twenty years, and yet every day new rows were added and old rows were edited as the I.B.L.C. went about their business. Simon looked up from his desk at the other clerks in the dusty desert office. Hala was sorting through the online obituaries, looking for matches. Grace was filing new entries, tapping away with her gentle, if gradual precision. York was eating yet another mud pie. How many of those things can one man eat? Simon thought with a sigh. There were already five hundred and seventeen million, four hundred and eighty one thousand, six hundred and fourteen rows in the database of missing persons. So many people. So many lost. Simon knew very well that the last time he touched this database he had accidentally encrypted all the timestamps. No one could ever know how long those people had been gone. Fortunately for Simon, no one ever wanted to know. If only he could remember what mistake he’d made. God only knows how I’m going to screw it up this time, he thought.

Scholar, Doer, Worshiper (Fragments From Books That Don’t Exist #118)

His Excellency The Bon Bon Vigorator invented many whatsits in his time. Known for his playful and whimsical humor, one of his all-time favorite gadgets was the knee incinerator. This handy device would burn away the cartilage from the inside but slowly, oh so slowly, so that the subject would never lose consciousness but live to enjoy the entire experience. B.B.V., as he was known to his adoring fans, often enjoyed witnessing the demonstrations of his tiny toys. Princes and Ministers from all over the world would invite him to partake. There was never any shortage of an entourage. It takes a village after all. The Beeb and his buds always traveled first class, and they loved to shower the crowd with bubbly. It was rumored that Mr. V. had once been a lowly gym instructor at some awful rural dump of a school, where he had spent much of his time imagining and daydreaming. Those days were long gone now if indeed they ever were. His Excellency had one saying, and one saying only, that he loved to repeat whenever he got the chance. “Re-invent the wheel?” he’d ask and quickly answer with “why the fuck not!” and laugh out loud with his wonderfully boisterous voice.

Mint Chocolate Surveillance (Fragments From Books That Don’t Exist #116)

Holly watched in agony as her neighbor down the street was being broadcast live on the TV news as the latest disaster area. All she could see on the screen were houses and cars and the neighbor, all tubby and sweaty and gross and seriously freaking out as he described what could only be called the worst thing he had ever experienced. His garage door was open behind him and the whole world could see his collection of blow-up barbies and assorted related paraphernalia. Holly always suspected the guy was something of a weirdo, not that she had anything against anyone’s kink, that was entirely their business, but his taste in blow-up barbies was a little too close for comfort. Most of them kind of looked like Holly herself; short-ish thin-ish Asian-ish females with dark-rimmed glasses beneath well-kept glossy black bangs. It was certainly a shame that the wildfire was getting closer by the minute but really, now she was going to have to move anyway.

When Joe Shot Marianne (Fragments From Books That Don’t Exist #115)

“Porcupines don’t cluck”, Amy asserted, and didn’t wait for Jules to contradict her, but went on proclaiming other nonsense.

“Birds are what you get when your feet sweat,” she said.

“Appetites are for losers,” Amy insisted.

Jules sighed. She knew this could go on for hours. One time Amy said one stupid thing after another for a whole day and night, never stopping, never sleeping. Jules wanted to strangle the guy who had originally trained this annoying parrot.

Not My Limo (Fragments From Books That Don’t Exist #114)

On the east coast of Slyrn, the rains began at three ticks past the seventh moon, while in the west the sky was wet with liquid amogene. The plague would spread in droplets, but the people of the M’rawn were not concerned. Though bulky and at times inconvenient, their prohibitive air suits kept them dry and clear. It was the Liddle’ Sk”ron birds who had the most to lose. These creatures, known for hopping from drop to drop, had shorn their metallic claws in healthier climes, and were no longer equipped to repel the insidious virus. It was up to Bin Ve’rinn, the infant prodigy from the Pilar Soult mines, to once again intervene with his magical science and evolve the birds beyond their next natural cycle. A.B.’s mission, then, was to awaken the child in time from his regular afternoon nap.

The Sunset Poacher (Fragments From Books That Don’t Exist #113)

Flynn emerged from his shadow at six o’clock. The journey had taken longer than usual on account of the sunspot activity and, of course, mercury in retrograde. Being submerged in the shadow for so long took its toll. The bags under his eyes were almost purple, and the skin beneath his fingernails had begun to crease and fold. Shadow Hawk bundled him into the cab and tore off down the boulevard. Colonel Hacking was waiting at the barracks. Flynn couldn’t speak at first. His throat was too dry and his recall too hazy. The Colonel plied him with apple juice and a stale croissant. At length Flynn became more aware of his surroundings and nodded weakly. Colonel Hacking pressed the buzzer on his desk and moments later both Generals Bly and Conklin were in the room. The pulled chairs up in a semi-circle around the now fully conscious Flynn and waited eagerly for his report. Flynn cleared his throat, and then he frowned.

6000 Chinese Flight Attendants (Fragments From Books That Don’t Exist #112)

Rodney was fifth in line at the liquor store, and then he was tenth in line at Taco Bell. He was third in line at the ATM and second in line at Whole Foods. He was first in line at the newspaper kiosk, and twelfth in line at the ferry. That was Monday. Also on Monday he was third in line for the urinal at the ball game, and eighth in line for the urinal at the bar. He was third in line for the ferry on return. In the meantime he had been sixth in line for a hot dog, and tenth, eighth and fourth in line for beers. On average he was around 6th in line for the day, slightly better than his typical average for the month of September, when historically he’d been closer to seventh.

I Had A Bad Pork Chop Once, In Shasta City (Fragments From Books That Don’t Exist #110)

I remember it was raining. I was sitting in the lobby of a cheap motel, waiting for someone. She was supposed to meet me there at three and it was already five. You can imagine I was furious. The creepy guy behind the counter kept staring at my tits. I was sure he was going to say something gross any moment, but he only let out a little sigh every now and then. Every time he sighed I wondered if my fear was showing. I sat very severely, straight up like a woman of confidence. I had told my friend I would wait for her, no matter how long. She was always late, but never this late. This is one of those memories that could not happen any more. It was long before cell phones. I knew her phone number, but to call her I would have to go up to the counter and ask the creepy guy if I could use the phone and he would probably say no and direct me to the pay phone, which was just outside, in the rain, and anyway she shouldn’t be at that number. If she was then she’d be at home and not coming as she’d promised. Also I didn’t want to leave any traces of our business. She should have disposed of the body already.

Cookie Licker (Fragments From Books That Don’t Exist #108)

By following these simple steps, you can determine the future state of any object:

1. Select the object whose future state you wish to determine.
2. Using a language that you are familiar with, describe the object in your own words.
3. Repeat this description to a local genie. If you do not have a local genie, consult a local genie finder app.
4. Be sure to provide the genie with the following information:
   1. The future date you have in mind.
   2. Your recipe for bacon-wrapped fig delight.
   3. Currency in the form of a human soul. If you do not have a human soul, download one from the replication repo.
5. Using the linear nature of time, wait until the future date arrives.
6. Observe the selected object and again describe it in your own words.
7. Donate to my Patreon or Kickstarter or just give me money somehow.

The Sherlock Variations

The Sniffer – a Russian/Netflix show – is Sherlock Holmes as a dour fellow with a ridiculously acute sense of smell. He can even time travel with the thing. It just gets me to thinking of all the Sherlock variations there have been, and all that are yet to be. We already have Sherlock, but female. Sherlock,  but old. Sherlock, but young, but what about Sherlock,  but Icelandic, Sherlock, but every other nationality in the world, Sherlock, but gay (well …) Sherlock, but addicted to orange juice, Sherlock, but a cross-dresser, Sherlock, but fat, Sherlock, but short, Sherlock, but a capybara, Sherlock, but a shrub, Sherlock, but immortal, Sherlock, but asleep, Sherlock, with dreadlocks, Sherlock, from Mars, Sherlock, but quantum, Sherlock, but e-z-peel, Sherlock, for a dollar, Sherlock, but deaf, Sherlock, in hell, Sherlock, but pre-historic, Sherlock, but can fly, Sherlock, for president, Sherlock, in pre-school, Sherlock, for bananas, Sherlock, down a well, Sherlock, in pajamas, Sherlock, with a cold, Sherlock, but a vampire, Sherlock, up a tree, Sherlock, grocery bagger, Sherlock, truck stop hoe.

Any one of these could be on the case, and as long as there are characters with back stories that you care about, something critical at stake, secrets someone doesn’t know but absolutely needs to right at the moment and a suitably exciting climax, I’d give it four stars. I mean, come on, it’s Sherlock.

Please take a moment and vote for the Sherlock of your choice.