• Café Life is the Colony's main hangout, watering hole and meeting point.

    This is a place where you'll meet and make writing friends, and indulge in stratospherically-elevated wit or barometrically low humour.

    Some Colonists pop in religiously every day before or after work. Others we see here less regularly, but all are equally welcome. Two important grounds rules…

    • Don't give offence
    • Don't take offence

    We now allow political discussion, but strongly suggest it takes place in the Steam Room, which is a private sub-forum within Café Life. It’s only accessible to Full Members.

    You can dismiss this notice by clicking the "x" box

Flash Club November Entries

AgentPete

Capo Famiglia
Guardian
Full Member
Joined
May 19, 2014
Location
London UK
LitBits
0
United-Nations
This month’s entries are posted here. To make an entry, simply fill in the form below with your chosen nom-de-plume and your entry. To vote, hit the “Like” button.
 
From Billy Mack
---

Hey, little sister, what’s happening?
Where are you going? Where have you been?

I don’t want to come home. I’ll keep travelling. None of my horses ever come in.

I want to be like you. I want to be free. Don’t want to be tied-down to this company. Life in this town is uninteresting, and none of my horses ever come in.

I’ve been searching for something. I’ll never give in. Got to keep moving, keep travelling, and None of my horses ever came in.

None of our horses ever came in.
 
From Blind lemon pie
---

Dean’s parties were wild, you know? I mean, plenty of booze, drugs and birds, although you can’t say that now can you? I’m there with Mikey, and in walks Johnny. That was when they had everything, that first album had come out and it just blew everyone away, it was so different, and he’s there, and he’s chatting to Mikey and he’s saying I’ve got this riff, you know, and picks up a guitar he goes blam, ba ba dam dam. Yeah you know that riff eh? Everyone does. He plays the rest, and he says I’ve got nowhere for it to fucking go, no words for it.

And I’m like, hey, drop the eighth, stick in a minor in the middle and you’re singing about fucking freedom, right there. And he looks at me like, who is this dipshit? And I sing it to him, make up the words on the spot – 'your freedom is your life'.

And what does he do? He makes it 'your freedom is my life', calls it his own, and goes on to make a million out of it.

But what can you do eh? I’ve had good times. And being a bus driver wasn’t so bad.

I suppose you could say his freedom was my life.

Yeah.
 
From Razor's Edge
---

Giving Freedom


I'm gonna make a chain
A chain for your brain to ease the strain
Of choosing your freedoms, of making a choice
Of hearing the difference, of having a voice

You believe me, right?
You'll be happy

I'm giving you freedom
My legion of heathens now is your season
To cast in your image, to make this world yours,
To spread the one word, to close all the doors

What is fake, anyway?
Thinking is hard

We should make a chain
A chain for our brain to ease the pain
Of abusing our freedoms, of missing the choice
Of killing the difference, of losing our voice

Freedom in chains
Fuck 'em all
Make chains for yourself
 
From Rock G. Odd
---

Giving Freedom Give It Now


[Ah one, ah two, a-one, two, three, four…]

Giving freedom
(Giving freedom!)
Giving freedom
(Giving freedom!)

Freedom is as freedom does
And freedom flies as freedom must
And freedom flows as freedom goes
And freedom shows its shiny clothes

Giving freedom
(Giving freedom!)
Giving freedom
(Giving freedom!)

Rock is freedom yes it is
Rock is freedom it's the biz
Rock your freedom rock it now
Rock your freedom holy cow

[bridge, guitar solo, twiddle, twiddle, twang]

Giving freedom
(Giving freedom!)
Giving freedom
(Giving freedom!)

Giving freedom
(Giving freedom!)
Giving freedom
(Giving freedom!)

[repeat ad nauseum]
 
From Elvis
---

Giving Freedom

Ooo La-La Francoise. You gotta let me go.
Slinky French lady you smile as you sway
Give me back the freedom you stole in yesterday

Sexy-Sex Suzie. You know what you do
Haunt me. Love me, get in my way.
Give me back my freedom, as it was in yesterday.

You talked of love. I said it was true.
But do you remember? Can’t say that I do.
Do you remember? Can’t say that I do

Ooo La-La Francoise with your Parisian dreams.
Help me to lose you, help me be free.
Sexy-Sex Susie, my ghost with blonde hair.
Forget me, hate me, show me a way.
Give me back the freedom, you took from yesterday.

I talked of love. You said it was true.
But do you remember? Can’t say that I do.
Do you remember? Can’t say that I do.

Sexy Sex Suzie, Ooo La-La Francoise,
Give me my freedom, let me alone
Forget me don’t bleed me let me atone.
Give me my freedom, leave me alone

We talked of love. We said it was true
But do you remember, I hope that you do.
Do you remember? I know that I do.
 
From Frisco Disco
---

I met a girl in a disco bar
Laser eyes, she’ll go far
I asked her if, she’d like to dance,
She said “Sure, but without romance,”

She said
“I am a robot from outer space
Come to free, the human race
I am a robot from outer space
Take me to your funky place.”

We danced all night, I threw some moves
I don’t know how, but she could groove
Funky feet and funky arms
Resistant to, all my charms,

She said
“I am a robot from outer space
etc

The sun came up, we’d danced all night
The whole world up, was outta sight
She said to me, come to my ship
I said what a ride, what a trip,

She said
“I am a robot, from outer space
etc

(Middle 8 jangly disco bit – drums, authentic space synths etc)

Flying through the system
Solar was its name
She knew where to go
Love was not the same

Flying out of space
Into another mind
Through each other’s bodies
To the other side

Bijjhoooooooooooooo – smaaaaaaaaaaaaaash!!!!! Pichow Pichow . . . . (70s sound of a spaceship crashing)

I woke up, and she was gone
All alone, with her song
Human race, now dead and gone
Giving freedom, to me alone

She said
“I am a robot from outer space
Come to free the human race
I am a robot from outer space
Take me to your funky place”

(Repeat until lights go up and everyone goes home . . .)
 
From Holly Wreath
---

The Switch

‘Hit me,’ Captain Steve McLane says.
‘Two men robbed the jewelers on the top floor, took the elevator and we shut it down. They have three hostages,’ The security guard says.
‘Hostages?’
‘Couple of suits and the store Santa.’
Steve goes and talks through the door. ‘It’s over. Let them go and give yourselves up. You’ll get six years, serve three. No biggie.’
The guy shouts back through the door. ‘The way I see it: you’re going to get us a car, let us walk… or I start shooting people.’
‘Alright, I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, why don’t you give me something? Two hostages are more than a handful. Let old Saint Nick go. It is Christmas eve.’
There’s a pause then the guy replies. ‘Alright, we’ll let Fatso go. Any bullshit, you’ll be delivering bad news to their widows.’
They partially open the door and Santa squeezes through the gap.
‘Get out of here,’ Steve says.
Santa nods and rushes off. ‘Merry Christmas.’

Santa gets around the corner, out of sight, and drops his sack into the trunk of his car. He opens it, rummages around, and pulls out a fist-sized diamond. ‘Ho-ho-ho.’
 
From Mr Helpful
---

Hello Holly Wreath, Noel and Subcontractor. Did you see Barbara's message about copying your pieces to the other page? Entries don't go here any more. Cheers
 
Back
Top