# Fish heads and Ambrosia



## Martinelv (Aug 10, 2004)

Fish heads and Ambrosia. (c) 2006 Martin Horton

(another silly little short story. forgive format.)

Perched atop one of the gothic spires that jut out from the Houses of Parliament, the demon Baal alternately takes huge gulps from out of a stolen flytrap and glares at a dominion, floating in the Thames, sipping ambrosia from out of a shining golden bowl.

?Ba****rd,? he seethes, as the flytrap splits and the bodies of a million dead flies, maggots and the liquidated remains of fish heads dribble down his chin.

?What?s your problem?? asks the dominion, raising her breathtakingly beautiful head. ?And what is that smell??

The demon snarls appallingly. A passer-by looks up but can see nothing. A mangy cat stops for a moment and sniffs. A Member of Parliament quietly has an aneurism and drops dead - his head lolling on to the shoulder of a colleague who is either too polite to move him or assumes that he is asleep.

?Why do I have to drink flies and fish heads when you get to eat ambrosia?? The demon?s talons itch for the dominions milky throat.

The dominion sighs and opens her eyes. The purest light pours out from beneath her rose petal eyelids. Baal grimaces.

?Because you are fallen. It is your punishment. Besides, you wouldn?t like this.? She lifts up her bowl to show him the remains of the shimmering ambrosia.

?I might do,? rumbles Baal.

?Don?t be silly. You are fallen. This food would give you happiness; fill you with joy and love. And is that not what you are against??

Baal curls his lip. The dominion waves a dreamy hand towards the Houses of Parliament and the member is suddenly revived. He apologies to his colleague.

?Why did you have to do that?? bellows Baal. He was on his way down!? His dark yellow eyes, the colour of bile, are still fixed on the ambrosia. A couple of stupendously lucky flies struggle out of the fish mess and litter on his chin and buzz away.

?They all are. But, well, call it a whim.?

Baal considers. His eyes narrow craftily. ?Okay,? he thunders. ?How about if I mix a little of my fish heads with your ambrosia and see what it?s like??

?Why would I want to do that? Are you trying to tempt me, Beelzebub??

'My name is Baal,? he roars.

?As you wish.?

The demon tries to calm himself down. It takes incredible effort for him to do this. ?What harm can come from it??

?None at all. Except that you may cease to exist, which would be a shame. I enjoy your company. And your suffering.?

?I?ll risk it.? Baal pisses down his hairless legs in anticipation. ?But would you?? he teases.

The dominion smiles. ?No harm would come to me. I am second only to the thrones in my relationship with God.? She laughs like a wind chime. Baal covers his smoking ears.

?Well,? he says, when her laugher fades, ?why not then??

The dominion rises up from the water and hovers in front of Baal. He blinks rapidly. He has never been this close before. The dominion flicks his nose playfully. Baal screams in pain. The member has a second aneurism.

?Okay then, oh unclean one, let?s give it a try.?

Baal hesitates. ?Er, but what about??

The dominion gazes down through the windows of Parliament. ?Oh, let him fall.?

?Really??

?Yes. It was only a matter of time.?

A gigantic stream of p**s and pus gush out of Baal?s stubby penis in excitement. ?Great, great.?

The dominion rests her chin in a basket of fingers, her silk-like wings fluttering in the breeze, looking like an amused fairy on a toadstool. ?Okay,? she breathes, ?but it is the ultimate exercise in futility. Like them down there.? She sighs again. ?Politics. The ultimate exercise in futility.?

?Like religion?? taunts Baal. He vomits fish heads into her bowl. He looks up at her with both fear and expectation.

The dominion smiles with weary self-justification. She leans forwards and takes a dainty sip from the bowl. And she instantly vanishes.

Baal shrieks with delight. ?I knew it! Banished from the kingdom of God. I knew it!? He licks his lips and prepares to take a gulp, because, after all ? what would be the worse that could happen to him? A fiery slide back to hell? To cease to exist? He doesn?t care either way.

He takes a gulp.

And vanishes.

?Order, order!? barks the speaker in the House of Commons. ?The Prime Minister!?

Chaos in the chamber. Members from all sides cheer or boo. The Prime Minister stands up and prepares to make her opening speech. She opens her mouth and halts, as a whiff of fish rises to her nose. She can?t remember eating fish for breakfast. She shrugs and begins her speech.

?Order, order!?

The leader of the opposition rises to berate her. He opens his mouth and halts, as a whiff of ambrosia rises to his nose. He can?t remember eating ambrosia for breakfast. He shrugs and begins his retort. Back and forth they scream, like children arguing over a packet of sweets.

As Baal and the dominion squabble over some minor detail, a member rises to interrupt.

?With all due respect to my right honourable friends, isn?t this all a bit futile??

The prime minister and the leader of the opposition glance at each other, for a split second realising the consequences of their actions.

S**t, they both think, before forgetting their previous lives as dominion and demon and continue with one of the ultimate exercises in futility.


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## sebastian (Aug 11, 2004)

Martin, i could read your clever little tales all night long. I love it when you just let your imagination abound. It's all really rather clever. Love the incontinent demon!

But i have to say, you are a bloody fool for pasting your writing on public message boards. I know it sounds ridiculous and i come across as a blubbering lunatic whenever i address this issue, but i truly can't get my head around the fact that people as talented as you just casually plop their brilliance wherever they feel fit. It's like leaving your prized amulet in a public restroom with a note that says: "Don't touch". Argh.

Anyway though...you're bubbling with brilliance Martin. I wish you'd work on a novel. A long one.

s.


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## enngirl5 (Aug 10, 2004)

Sebastian how many times have we told you to quit obsessing about that? Print your work out and mail it to yourself without opening it. It will have the date you mailed it to yourself. Or copy it to CD's and put them in a safe in your house. I know what it's like to obsess over things that seem so irrational when you try to talk about them. I talk to my therapist about my obsessions all the time. In your case, it's like you're so talented and that's your gift, and deep down you feel like its somehow going to be taken from you. But its not. And when we're all 80 and still talking to each other on this stupid message board, you'll still have it. That's my rant for the day.


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## sebastian (Aug 11, 2004)

I get what you're saying Enngirl and thanks for your concern, and of course, i know you're right. But just to point something out to you...mailing something to oneself doesn't hold up in court. I've looked into it. 

By the way, do you all see the ingenious way i've hijacked another of Martin's threads and made it about me? Me, Me, Me!!! Love me!!! Pay attention to me!!! Me, Me, Me!!!


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## enngirl5 (Aug 10, 2004)

I kinda hijacked it. Back to Martin.


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## Martinelv (Aug 10, 2004)

What am I going to do with you too.

Sebastian, it's only a silly little tale that would never get published, and even if someone did knick it, well, no skin off my nose. I've got hundreds of others.

And I have, finally, finished my novel; 'My House on the Fjord'. 129,155 words, and two months of revising it and proof-reading. THAT, is not a chore, as I'm sure you know. Currently it is sitting on the desk of my agent who is probably discussing with his dark lord the merits of it. If I can't get this published, because, to be frank, I think it's the best thing I've ever written and ever could, then.......well, I'll just admit defeat and continue working...sigh...as a Software Tester. Even so, I enjoy it has a hobby more than anything. In fact, I wrote a deeply, DEEPLY macabre story this morning called 'Daddy's Girl', which in a fit of chronic (yet cheerful) morbidity, should never been seen by human eyes. But boy, did I chuckle when I wrote it.


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## sebastian (Aug 11, 2004)

Martin, you sicko! Can I read it?

I'm happy as hell to hear that you finished your novel...129,000 words...how many single spaced MS Word pages does that fill, just out of curiosity...mine is roughly 150 pages in that context but i have no idea the word count and as i have mine locked up in a veritable vault right now it isn't worth it to go in to check. I suspect yours is devestatingly crushing mine though.

Let me know the moment i can order your book...if you don't get it published through your agent, maybe you should self-publish it. That's what i'm going to do five thousand years from now when i finally finish mine...i'm going to self publish it and then whore it out to various publishers to see who wants the honour of making it into a "real" book.

At the risk of this sounding even a tad condescending...i'm quite proud of you, Martin, for completing it. Actually...that's not the right word. I'm impressed. Jealous and impressed. It's not as easy as people think, writing a novel. And even if your novel is only ever read by friends and relatives, just having completed a task of that magnitude...well, it's really quite an extraordinary thing to do, and kudos to you sir, for doing it. That's what i always think...at least if i can get this one thing done...even if i were to go batty for the rest of my life...I will have accomplished something. Your posterity is now assured.

s.


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## Martinelv (Aug 10, 2004)

Cheers buddy. Thanks for your encouragement.

I have no idea, regards your question. It is Courier size 11, single spaced (double line), single sides, and is 416 pages long, if that helps.

And no, you can't read it my vile story. It's locked in a vault, much the same as yours I imagine. Although I have written two more - The Oval Portrait, my feeble version to cover E.A Poes story, and another one called Amplifier, which isn't quite finishied yet. I'll post them here if you life. In the meantime, let me garnish you with a poem I wrote this morning, especially for Homeskooled: :wink:

God got off a bus one day,
His trinity confusing to all that pray,
He saw a tramp and waved his way,
Then parted the crowd and stomped away.

The tramp lifted up his derelict head,
'Please lord, money for food so that I shall live',
'NO,' bellowed the lord, you must suffer and learn,
So with that the tramp bowed, starved, and dropped down dead.


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## Homeskooled (Aug 10, 2004)

Dear Martin, 
Haha! First of all, I loved your Fish Heads and Ambrosia story. I really, really loved it. I may show it to the monks, actually. Second of all, I read Daddy's Little Girl, and I think I am now a worse person for it. Thirdly, I will leave you with my own poem, composed when I was 10:

Jesus you are God and your path is hard to trod
Whether it be in work or play, please help me follow you this day
And if I should fail to serve you, please help me try again, 
For I would feel such grief, if I pierced your heart by sin
And when I shall depart, I pray I shall go to heaven, 
To be united with you, and my departed brethren.

Peace
Homeskooled


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## Epiphany (Apr 28, 2006)

We are, my friends, surrounded by talent in abundance. 
Perhaps you all might be so kind as to casually toss a little my way. 
I have a number of snippets in my head I would love to somehow turn into a masterpiece of sorts and absolutely none of the knowhow, focus or talent.

Hands up here who has started writing a novel? 
Hands up who has completed a novel?
How long did it take you?
Did you have any idea where the story was heading when you began or did you let it build itself and create the characters as you went?

Yeah seb...you said it best.


> I'm impressed. Jealous and impressed.


For as long as I can remember I have wanted to write a book...even started a few silly teen novels in my youth, but never got around to finishing them. I would come across my half-hearted attempt a year or so later when going through my things and realise how feeble it sounded and throw it away.

Sigh...one day I suppose. It always seems that when I get my little flashes of brilliance I am by myself somewhere (on a bus, or walking) without a pen or paper...by the time I get access to them I have talked myself out of that little idea and it is forgotten, only to crop up again somewhere down the track. Too much self-editing I think...I seem to be able to edit it completely away.


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## Martinelv (Aug 10, 2004)

Well, all I can say is that an idea pop's into my head, and the story kind of evolves on its own. I have no idea where or how it is going to end up. I've never structured anything in my life, whatsoever. Which may be one of my problems. One of them.


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## Epiphany (Apr 28, 2006)

> Well, all I can say is that an idea pop's into my head, and the story kind of evolves on its own. I have no idea where or how it is going to end up.


That's comforting...it seems to work that way for me too. But how do you stay interested in a character long enough to make a novel about them? I'm ok for short stories but then I get bored with the character. 
I think I'm being just a bit too impatient. I like to see immediate results and get frustrated when it doesn't come together straight away. Hmmmmm...think I just worked out one of MY many problems.

Thanks Martin...I find any little insights helpful...and your stories inspiring.


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