The Librarian's Revenge ©

The Librarian's Revenge ©

An Odyssey Into The Wonderful World Of Words

This community is dedicated to C.W. Hewett's epic masterpiece

Bacteria of war(unfinished)

EXERCISESPosted by Alicia B. 23 Apr, 2009 10:49PM

Choose two random facts from the book ‘BLABLABLA - Something to talk about when you don’t have anything to talk about: 600 completely pointless facts’.

Write a short story in thirty minutes incorporating 3 facts.

"A cat can jump to the height of 5 times the length of it's tale, straight into the air."
"Heinrich Himmler, the commander of the german SS during WWII, was a chicken farmer before becoming a soldier."

"You have more bacteria in your mouth than in your anus"

My grandmother once said to me y’know a cat can jump 5 times the height of the length of it’s tail, pretty incredible eh? I was thinking about the look of satisfaction old people get, y’know when they think they know something you don’t? I could picture my grandmother sitting in her old, tattered chair bellowing these words, as I watched the dark black cat leap into the air. Landing with a muffled thud onto the rather high table. The cat came strolling towards me with a swagger all it’s own, captivating me by how distinctly unique this cat was. It looked perfectly normal, a black cat with blue eyes, but there was something about it, like I knew it already. We only got it less than an hour ago, so that was damn near impossible. By now the cat, Max, had curled up onto the essay I was writing as if to say I should stop writing. No, no, that was just me wishing I could stop writing it. English of all subjects, the most difficult lesson ever created for me. I never understood what the big deal was with being good in English, I mean what about the foreign people? Isn’t it just a little bit harder for them to be good at the great British language?

Just then my mothers abnormally high pitched voice tore through the silence that writing about something you know absolutely nothing about brings, and she walked into my room. She’d been watching another world war II program; I always felt sorry for her when she did this, she only watched it so that, for once, we could discuss something we both knew about. Her dislike for history was far from hidden, no matter how hard she tried I always knew it never interested her, no matter what, and never would.

“Did you know that Heinrich Himmler fella’ used to be a chicken farmer ? And then he became commander of that German secret service group.”

“Yeah, we learned it along time ago. Fascinating isn’t it?”

“Yes of course dear.”

A look of embarrassment clearly signalled her distaste for the subject, like always. That’s one of the reasons I loved, and missed my grandmother so much, we actually had things in common. We didn’t have to pretend. She died a few years ago. Cancer. I gave my mum a reassuring smile, I loved how at least she cared enough not to dismiss my interests like my father, and even watched some programs with me, but though she watched them it was more than obvious she wasn’t interested, so often enough we would watch some overrated, overpaid and oversexed actor, American of course, attempt to act, and sometimes even worse, they attempted an English accent. I mean seriously, shouldn’t someone really tell them we don’t all speak like the royal family? Unless of course you work for the BBC, in that case you would probably get fired for not sounding like the queen or someone like that.

I carried on writing my essay until about 11pm when I decided it wasn’t going to get any better than it was, and that it was time to get ready for bed. I had school tomorrow. It was about 12pm by the time I’d had a shower, got my pyjamas on and got comfortable enough to begin to drift off to sleep.
My alarm woke me up, Whole lotta love was my alarm tone for this week. I liked to change it so it didn’t get too boring. It had been a week long holiday from school, so I woke up half an hour early.

“6am” I groaned miserably to myself.

By 8am school was beginning, and still I was nearly late, despite the 2 hours I had to get ready. Everyone, who was there, stared at me as I walked in. Then every couple of minutes more and more people filtered into the classroom. The last person to walk in was my friend Logan, and didn’t that surprise me. He looked so different. I never knew a week could change someone’s appearance so much, and I just hoped his personality didn’t change too. Luckily it didn’t, he walked over to me and told me another disgusting and utterly useless fact.

“Did you know you have more bacteria in your mouth than in your anus?”

“No, and thanks for sharing.”

Sarcasm blatantly crept into my voice.

“Ha, I know, don’t you just love seeing me everyday.”


Despite saying this I knew that in fact I did, we’d grown up together. We were best friends and everyone knew it, but still I kept wondering why he looked so different.

“What happened Logan? Why do you look so…different?”

“I met an old friend, you remember Shawn don’t you? From first school, well as you know I don’t have much luck with the ladies, and he does. He gave me a few tips, y’know to sort my problem.”


“It’s ok Liz, we’ll always be best mates.”

Liz was short for Elizabeth.

“Yeah of course.”

But I’d said that a little too fast, it made it sound so false.
School was normal. Do this, learn that, remember this, don’t forget that, but it was when I got home things changed. It was about 6pm when there was a knock at the door, a police man and woman stood there. I knew something bad had happened, I mean who doesn’t when the police come to your door with a look of sorrow clearly in their eyes.

“What’s happened? Who’s hurt?”

I began panic kicking frantically.

“Are you Elizabeth Sullivan?”

“Yes, yes, who’s hurt?”

“I’m PC Smith and this is my colleague PC Rogers, I’m sorry to have to tell you this. I’m afraid your mother was killed, she was in the wrong area at the wrong time and got shot. She was protecting a child.”

I broke down. I couldn’t control the pain. I’d lost my grandmother and now my mother. What was I going to do? I sure as hell wasn’t going to live with my dad. We didn’t get on and he had his own family to look after. The police woman helped me from the floor. She couldn’t look me in the eyes.

“Would you like me to take you to your dads?”

“No, no, no, no, no! Take me to Logan! He’s the only one who can help me!”

“Are you sure”

“Yes god damn it, my father doesn’t care! And no-one else does either.”

Anger consumed me, making the pain easier. We finally arrived at Logan’s, I ran to the door pounding as hard as I could for him to answer, and he finally did.

“Liz, what’s wrong? Logan, Logan it’s my mother. She’s…she’s…she’s dead.”

I began to sob and reached for him. Sure enough he hugged me tight, but he didn’t say a word. We’d been best friends for so long it was like we shared our parents. I knew he was feeling some of my grief. Finally after 5 minutes had passed.

“Are you going to your dads?”

“Oh please no, not yet!”

“OK, you can stay here for tonight”

I didn’t want to speak anymore, just to be comforted by someone who knew my grief.

Unfinished can't decide the ending.