MMN2 – Six-String Samurai

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MMN2 - Six-String Samurai

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Skinner Co. broadcasts are presented by http://skinner.fm, and is released under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License.

Intro and outro work provided by Jay Langejans of The New Fiction Writers podcast.

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Text and audio commentaries can be sent to comments@flashpulp.com – but be aware that it may appear in the FlashCast.

– and thanks to you, for reading. If you enjoyed the story, tell your friends.

FCM014 – Bananas

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Welcome to Flash Pulp Minisode 014 – Bananas.

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Plague and an unappealing peeling incident.

  • Damu Gupta’s in deep
  •  

    A Skinner Co. Production

    Flash Pulp is presented by http://skinner.fm, and is released under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License.

    Intro and outro work provided by Jay Langejans of The New Fiction Writers podcast.

    Freesound.org credits:

    Text and audio commentaries can be sent to comments@flashpulp.com – but be aware that it may appear in the FlashCast.

    – and thanks to you, for reading. If you enjoyed the story, tell your friends.

    FP359 – Joe Monk, Emperor of Space: The New Guy

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    Welcome to Flash Pulp, episode three hundred and fifty-nine.

    Flash PulpTonight we present Joe Monk, Emperor of Space: The New Guy

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    This week’s episodes are brought to you by Mac of BIOnighT

     

    Flash Pulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age – three to ten minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings.

    Tonight, Joe Monk, Emperor of Space, considers the nature of change and forward time travel.

     

    Joe Monk, Emperor of Space: The New Guy

    Written by J.R.D. Skinner
    Art and Narration by Opopanax
    and Audio produced by Jessica May

     

    There came a time, before his rise to Emperor, when Joe Monk’s reputation in war and justice had spread to the stars as fresh adventure in a stale universe. His passion seemed a cure to the bureaucracy of the era, and, as the last human, his voice seemed to hold the total weight of his dead world.

    Stepping from the shelter of a cave adorned with well-worked pelts, the neanderthal shielded his eyes against the bright yellow glare of Sol.

    Joe Monk, Emperor of Space, a Science Fiction PodcastThe hillock on which he stood had a single well trodden path leading downwards, and, at its midpoint, a barrier of wood and stone had been constructed to narrow the approach as added defense against predators.

    Atop his ledge the almost-man tracked the drawing near of a small cluster of ten figures.

    This was no war party – no, simply a man and woman trailed by their brood of unwashed youths.

    Still, the difference was unmistakable: These were not neanderthals at all, but homo sapiens drifting in from some distant grubby hole.

    The shelf of the homeowner’s brow fell to a new low and he grunted thrice.

    Time slid by, and it was 54 BC.

    A Roman galley, bristling with oars, was bearing down on the British coast, its drumbeat moving with sure and steady purpose even as it rose and dove amongst the waves.

    The light upon its stern had drawn the eyes of a filthy faced child of twelve who’d been wandering the cliffs in search of a mislaid sheep, and the lad’s long thin legs were soon pounding towards the hut he called home.

    Within moments his family and extended clan were beside him at the drop’s edge, pacing the bobbing landing.

    Spitting, his taut-faced father laid a blow across the boy’s right ear and said, “gonadh inimriche.”

    Time again took on an unlikely momentum, pausing in Earth year 1997 AD.

    A man of sixty was sitting on a worn wooden bench that looked to have been built even before the crumbling gas station it sat in front of.

    Cracking open a peanut the slouched grandfather tossed the shell amongst the dust at his feet.

    From his right came the ringing bell that marked an exiting customer, and a stout figure in blue overalls emerged from the area that housed the loafer’s wife’s cash register.

    Stepping back into his rusting white and red pickup, the driver offered a, “gracias,” then turned over his vehicles reluctant engine.

    The truck rolled onto the highway, lingering but a moment on the horizon.

    The man on the bench said, “goddamn immigrants.”

    The landscape shifted a final time, now settling on Joe Monk’s increasingly renowned ship as seen through the viewscreen of a law enforcement tug. A too-round Smegmarian in a Solar System Traffic Cop uniform punched in his scan but could find no contraband on Monk’s approaching space egg.

    Dropping a news printout with Joe’s face and vessel splashed across the front, the entity scratched at the pant seat of his uniform – universally hated due to its speed limiting bureaucracy – and grunted, “shhhpffdd ferfferl.”

    Monk’s craft became the focus, and the length of speckled black behind it lit up with massive letters.

    “Kwarvox has been Planduck’s Senator for the previous 324 years,” they said before being replaced by: “Change Happens. Get Used To It.”

    A much smaller addendum floated over Joe’s uppermost engine strut. “This Message Endorsed by the Committee for the Election of Beethbo for Galactic Senate.”

    The holoscreen went black.

    As illumination returned to the cramped boardroom, the trio of Planduckians that made up the Committee for the Election of Beethbo for Galactic Senate smiled. It was generally very difficult to license the history of an entire people, but Joe’s lone survivor status meant that the collected cultural heritage of the human race had been bequeathed to his estate. It was their hope that Monk’s celebrity status, mixed with their own people’s past as stellar nomads, would strike a chord.

    Meanwhile, across the small conference table, Joe’s companion’s mind raced. Macbeth knew it was essential to remain mindful of diplomacy while stringing together his polite mouthful of titles, false compliments, and refusals.

    Before he could embark on his finely honed rejection, however, Joe’s jaw finally flapped shut.

    “I’m in!” he blurted, and thus began his political career.

     

    Flash Pulp is presented by http://skinner.fm, and is released under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License.

    Intro and outro work provided by Jay Langejans of The New Fiction Writers podcast.

    Freesound.org credits:

    Text and audio commentaries can be sent to comments@flashpulp.com – but be aware that it may appear in the FlashCast.

    – and thanks to you, for reading. If you enjoyed the story, tell your friends.

    True Crime Tuesday: One Pure Moment Edition

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    Second Ending - Evan Hunter - Pulp Cover

    Merry Festivus and happy New Year!

    I got you a little something: It’s a True Crime Tuesday.

    Not just any TCT, however – no, this edition only has one story, but it’s special. Andrew Frey makes it so.

    The HuffPo says:

    Andrew Frey, 37, apparently made a series of outbursts and then began masturbating in an Oregon restaurant, The Oregonian reports.

    I wish we’d gotten more reporting on what Frey was upset about before he undertook, uh, drastic hands-on measures.

    Was he claiming his salad was wilted and if someone didn’t fix it he would drop trou? Maybe he was just announcing his one man show, “The Mating Ritual of the Highland Gorilla”?

    It took 15 officers to finally take him into custody and stop him pleasuring himself.

    Fifteen people!? Do we have a new super villain on our hands? The Panicked Penis Puller? Dr. Wankenstein?

    No, of course not. It was meth. It’s always meth.

    Frey later reportedly told authorities that he took methamphetamine and couldn’t remember the obscene incident, according to the Marion County Sheriff’s office.

    I sometimes feel like meth was specifically invented simply to give us a substance that would make the claims in 1930s murder-and-madness pot propaganda flicks true.

    The Junk Pusher - Robert W Taylor - Pulp Cover

    FPGE23 – A Visit With Sour Thistle by David “Doc Blue” Wendt

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    Welcome to Flash Pulp guestisode twenty-three.

    Flash PulpTonight we present A Visit With Sour Thistle by David “Doc Blue” Wendt

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    This week’s episodes are brought to you by the Mob

     

    Flash Pulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age – three to ten minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings.

    Tonight, we’re lucky enough to hear the return of Doc Blue’s Holiday touch – and right on time for the appearance of an old friend, too.

    Many thanks, Doc!

     

    A Visit With Sour Thistle

    Written by David “Doc Blue” Wendt
    Art and Narration by Opopanax
    and Audio produced by Jessica May

     

    A Pulpy Christmas Entry

     

    Flash Pulp is presented by http://skinner.fm, and is released under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Unported License.

    Intro and outro work provided by Jay Langejans of The New Fiction Writers podcast.

    Freesound.org credits:

    Text and audio commentaries can be sent to comments@flashpulp.com – but be aware that it may appear in the FlashCast.

    – and thanks to you, for reading. If you enjoyed the story, tell your friends.

    FC93 – The Appendix

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    FC93 - The Appendix

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    Hello, and welcome to FlashCast 93.

    Prepare yourself for: Teenage exorcists, time travel, horror flicks, and Coffin.

    * * *

    Huge thanks to:

    * * *

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