Author Archive | Mark A. Rayner

Bonus Audio: The Monkey’s Tail…

By Mark A. Rayner on May 27, 2011 in But is it art?, Monkeys!, Skwibby fiction

This story has been published a few times: first in Trunk Stories #2 (Dec. 2004), and then it was reprinted in Broken Pencil #29 (2005) and most recently in Yareah Magazine, (Feb. 2009). I thought I would repost it here in it’s entirety and add this is audio version, as a bona fide of my long obsession with monkey-related fiction.

Here’s the audio:

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And a link to the file if the embedded player doesn’t work properly — The Monkey’s Tail … by Mark A. Rayner

The Monkey’s Tail, as Told by Marcel Duchamp the Day After Charles Lindbergh Landed at Le Bourget Field

The Monkey's Tail .... by Mark A. Rayner

I had this friend who was obsessed with having a monkey tail grafted to his ass. Actually, to call him a The Monkey’s Tail….friend is stretching the truth. Toulouse was more of a colleague. An ex-colleague, if you get my meaning.

He went to great lengths to achieve his ends. At first, he was convinced that it would be possible to grow a tail. After all, we used to have them: they are part of our vestigial anatomy. He knew a biologist from Pigalle who was willing to help pull out his tail bone. Not literally. No, he would attempt to stretch it outwards by digitally manipulation.

Oh yes, it was quite painful, but Toulouse was bent on it. He was mad for the monkey tail, wasn’t he?

Eventually, Toulouse accepted the anatomist’s ministrations were not going to work, and went in search of other answers. He tried occult methods: spells, potions and unguents. It was about this time people started to avoid him. The unguents were too pungent by far. Yes, even for Paris in summertime.

Finally, Doctor V moved into town. You must know him. The one who grafts primate glands into the body cavity. Yes, for men unable to … I see you’ve heard of him. His cure was often worse than the disease, if being unable to . . . could be called a disease. It could be restful. Several flaccid gentlemen died, but septicemia did not frighten Toulouse.

He asked the surgeon to graft a tail to him. The tail? It came from a monkey — a Barbary Ape, if you must know the details.

Yes. Yes. It did come from Gibralter. Normally Dr. V. worked with chimps, which have no tails, so he had to find a species with a tail, no matter how underdeveloped. The poor beast had been living with Madame Sélavy, the noted philatelist and prodigious eater of *cerveaux de chèvre*. Hmm. Yes, nasty, I agree. Cow brains are better. In a fit of whimsy she had named the creature “Alonsy.” The little beast was adept at licking stamps and quite useful. So Dr. V. returned the creature to its mistress after he’d removed the small, pathetic vestigial tail. Covered with wiry brown hair it was.

Oh, yes, Toulouse was ecstatic when Dr. V showed him the new appendage prior to the operation. I imagine the Russian must have looked like some demented maître d’, presenting the severed appurtenance on a silver platter. Yes. Yes! The ether was the wine and the surgical tools the cutlery!

By all accounts the monkey was happier after this interlude. (Though they are called Barbary Apes, they are really monkeys you know.) Yes. Yes. Alonsy flew into paroxysms of monkey song, chattering gleefully; he moistened postage with aplomb and joy thereafter. He was much improved.

My ex-colleague did not fare as well, but such is the price of progress.

The End

Originally published: Trunk Stories #2, Dec. 2004
Reprinted: Broken Pencil #29, 2005, Yareah Magazine, February Issue

Alltop find blue pills more effective than chimp bits. Thanks to R@PP for the monkey pic!

Why do lit-ah-rary types look down on SF

By Mark A. Rayner on May 26, 2011 in But is it art?, Parody & Satire, Skwibby fiction

So what is it about science fiction that causes “literary” types to look down upon it? Like any genre, SF has its bad and good. No scratch that, like any writing, there is both bad and good. I’ve read plenty of unreadable “literary” fiction. But SF seems to get more derision than other forms of genre writing, perhaps unfairly. Many important books are SF.

Scantily clad woman riding a snake Yet, try to get Margaret Atwood to admit she writes it; yes, she writes SF (though anti-technological, like Michael Crichton) and some of it’s pretty good: The Handmaid’s Tale, for example. But no, she won’t cop to it. And I understand, because then she’d be lumping herself in with …. the pulps.

I’m not trying to say that there wasn’t any merit to them, but the covers … whoa, Betty … the covers … the covers … [sound of Mark pouring water over his massive, shaved scull, coursing down the rolls of fat on his neck]

What I love about the covers is the uninhibited yearning, for example, this scantily clad woman riding a giant snake. Yes, sometimes a giant snake is just a giant snake, but in this case, a Freudian interpretation is in order.

The real variation seems to be in HOW the women are scantily clad. Fantastic Adventures seems to go for the low-cut strapless dress, while Science Fiction clearly starts there and quickly jumps to the bikini-skirt combo. Of course, neither of them had anything on Spicy Adventure Stories (though these are not really science fiction), and none of these can hold a candle to Saucy Movie. (My guess is they had some kind of requirement that the artists show at least one nipple, or make up for the lack of nipple some other way. (For example, she’s being held by a fireman, or Satan, or even worse, a pirate! Arrrr!!))

Here are a few of my favourites:

Science Fiction Quarterly

Transparent helmet dude carries scantily clad woman, laughing his ass off If you’re not showing some nipple, then the woman/victim/love interest could be in the arms of a psychotic space-dude! This guy has some kind of transparent helmet on, but it sure isn’t because he has to haul away his woman-prize through the vacuum of space. His nipples are exposed. I’m not sure if this picture is as villainous as it seems: if her arms were bound, I’m sure they would be dangling like her legs. As it stands, they disappear behind his buttocks. I’ll let you draw whatever inference you may.

Science Fiction

Planet of the Knob Heads Holy crap that chick is flexible! Her back is arched enough that she can see that her toe is almost dragging on the ground. Good thing she wasn’t wearing her tight jeans that morning. Good thing she’s hardly wearing anything at all. She’s probably thinking, “why couldn’t I get kidnapped by something good, like a buff sexy fireman or a nice-smelling pirate, for God’s sake. Instead, I’ve been abducted by some chicken-legged robot with a knob-head and these six bizarre little arms that look like baby’s arms with apples instead of fists. Hey, wait a minute ….”

Fantastic Adventures

Okay, this is getting too easy. A suspiciously shaped robot threatens a woman in a skin-tight flesh-toned dress. (And a little fashion tip for all you girls who plan on being accosted by perverted automatons on the cover of a pulp magazine — pink dress and red hair — no. Go for something white and wispy, which will be more alluring and let your hair pop.)

I will say this for her, unlike the other women, she looks genuinely horrified. Of course, you would be too if you had a six-foot condom-shaped robot shaking its business at you.

Future

Proto-Princess Leia One look at this and I thought, “It’s Princess Leia! So that’s where George Lucas got the bronze bikini idea.”

Seriously, that is the Proto-Princess Leia bronze boob beguiler. No doubt this suppurated in George’s imagination for a couple of decades until he got a chance to unleash it (pun intended) in Return of the Jedi. Thus, George paid it forward, and fucked up at least two generations of impressionable young gentlemen with this evil, suggestive image.

Damn you Future magazine!

Now to counteract all that cheese, here’s a selection of ground-breaking SF, culled from Time’s “top 100 books” and the BBC’s top 100:

Brave New World
1984
Animal Farm
Fahrenheit 451
Slaughterhouse-Five
A Clockwork Orange
Naked Lunch
Dune
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
The Stand
The Clan Of The Cave Bear
Neuromancer
Watchmen
Snow Crash.

Still not sure what SF is? This handy chart may help. (Thanks to Robert Runte for ~~pointing me towards~~ making it.)

So, your turn — what SF book rocked your world?

Alltop thinks SF stands for San Francisco. Originally published, October 2009.

Dr. Tundra versus the flashmob zombies

By Mark A. Rayner on May 25, 2011 in Parody & Satire, Skwibby fiction

Zombie priest eating baby Dr. Maximilian Tundra had never felt so paranoid.

Earlier that day he’d lost his medical license; luckily, he also had a PhD in biochemistry, so he would still get everyone call him “doctor”. But it was the loss of easy access to pharmaceuticals that was the problem.

No, he had to be honest with himself: the problem was the special Halloween pumpkin-and-peyote-extract milkshake he’d had at breakfast, a couple hours before the hearing.

Four hours later the anxiety and fear were at their highest. He knew that, but of course, he didn’t have complete control over it.

Then he saw the zombies.

Serious, honest-to-god zombies. They filled the street. A small group of brain-hungry shufflers were chasing patrons out of an Aldo store and biting them. There was a zombie staring right at Dr. Tundra. It looked like he used to be a priest and was finishing off an afternoon snack of tasty baby.

The screams were horrible, terrifying. Already unhinged by his de-licensing and the ill-advised peyote pick-me-up, Dr. Tundra started to shake. If he’d had more control over his body, Tundra would have run, but he didn’t.

What he did have was his .45. And enough practice that he was confident the fear and mescaline would not ruin his aim.

“Shoot for the head,” he reminded himself, as he approached the mob of zombies. Many of them seemed to be laughing and having a good time. He thought that was odd. Zombies shouldn’t laugh.

And he certainly didn’t think they would run away.

Alltop and enjoys its morning milkshake. Photo by thebigdurian. Originally published October, 2009.

An Unintended Understanding

By Mark A. Rayner on May 24, 2011 in Skwibby fiction

“This traffic is the End.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen.”

“Everything depends on this meeting.”

“Dude, relax. You can’t do anything about it.”

“You could . . .”

“I don’t work for free, man . . . Seriously? You’d pay it?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the angle?”

“No angle. I NEED to make that meeting.”

“Who could be scarier than me?”

“Who do you think?”

“Shit. He’s taking a meeting with YOU, dude?”

“Yep.”

“And all I have to do is get you there? ”

“Yes . . ..”

“Okay. We’re here, dude. Tell the big guy I’m ready.”

“He knows.”

Originally appeared on Name Your Tale (last week). Alltop has entered into a Faustian bargain with humor bloggers too. Fire photo courtesy of Paul+Photos=Moody.

The Lost PowerPoint Slides: We Are Not Amused by Your Clipart (Part 23)

By Mark A. Rayner on May 23, 2011 in The Lost PowerPoints

The Victorians

The Victorians did many things that shape our lives today, and I’m not just talking about lighting bangers and drinking too much on Victoria Day.

Charles Darwin and the Theory of Evolution

Unlike today, the Theory of Evolution was not accepted by all members of society, not even in the United Kingdom, where Charles Darwin pioneered his important scientific discoveries; while Darwin explored the marketing possibilities of ape-powered robots, other men like Thomas Huxley were left to convince the rest of the scientific community of Evolution’s validity. This debate came to a head when during a widely publicized discussion before the British Association for the Advancement of Science, one of the major opponents of Evolution, the Lord Bishop of Oxford Samuel Wilberforce, asked Huxley if it was his mother or father who was an ape.

Communism

The ideology of communism has its roots in the Victorian Era, when Karl Marx and his pirate brother, Friedrich Engels, wrote the Communist Manifesto, which was all about overthrowing capitalism, sharing the means of production and scoring chicks.

Communist manifesto and beer mat

This site is all about scoring laughs. Originally published June, 2008.

The Lost PowerPoint Slides (Victoria Day Edition)