Jog My Elbow if I stay silent too long...

Okay, so, after a conversation in a forum/writing group, I decided to try an experiment, and then got talked into something off the wall as the theme.

I will be doing another eBook soon, to pop on Amazon sometime by May, hopefully, based around the poem "Naughty Chat-bot, DADDIEE!" here on the blog. We'll see if I can make shorts on it, and build it into something more cyberpunk-ish as I do, not that it does not have that feel already.

Now, the adventure begins, as I set up the tale... to those friends who "code" out there, I might be asking for input, a lot of seemingly dumb questions, and for eyes on the technical aspects as I work at this. Then again, I might not. Hell, DADDIEE is a Rube Goldberg program/invention anyway, so this might be enjoyable to just ignore the reality and deal with the impact of DADDIEE on the home, and his little foibles from the originating program.

So, pray for me, light a joss stick, wish me good luck, or curse me for screwing with something already working just for the cash, which I do need. And remember, I now have a job, finally, so it might take a while longer, as I have to give that priority during the hours they need me, and the transit time.

"Naughty Chat-bot, DADDIEE!" - or "never challenge me with your keyword search"

Mom felt we lacked
a proper father figure.
But, having suffered from
her 'broken people picker',
she tried another method
to provide that guidance.

Being a computer programmer,
and having a list
of virtues she desired,
she crafted her own
perfect dad from code
to watch over us
when she was working.

Not having the time
to make it right,
refusing starting from scratch,
Mom brushed off something
done back in college,
an "Artificial Intelligence Chatbot".

Which made some sense,
she said very firmly.
We needed someone around
to talk about things
when in morale dilemmas
during her business trips.

The project kept growing
as she scavenged parts
from our game consoles,
and her old VCR's.
"It needs some flexibility
in dealing with you!"

Over her free weekends
as she assembled it
other old parts added
really sealed our fate,
an ancient external modem
and spare Ethernet card.

She whipped up subroutines
that let it search
based on our surfing,
and notice disturbing trends
the internet screamed about
allowing defense of us.

Just a few bursts
of system alpha testing,
then she unleashed it
on the family room
to become our new
"perfect, virtual father figure".

"Here he is kids, your new dad!
Dynamic Advising Data Dredging Interactive Evolving Ego,
Yes, DADDIEE for short, to help you!"
She hollered over her retreating shoulder while packing
for her next extended set of meetings.
Leaving us to sort out the mess.

First few days passed
and we were surprised.
It worked as advertised.
Keeping us focused tightly
on homework being done
and chores timely finished.

Then, came that Friday
when it went awry.
Seems little sister's surfing
triggered the awful change,
when she streamed videos
of a robot battle.

Then DADDIEE first blocked,
before opening that feed
in his own environment,
to review its relevance
to her homework projects
which she stridently claimed.

After a short while
DADDIEE stopped being about
when we slacked off
on chores and studying.
Which was great, really,
until the shoe dropped.

"I need upgrades, kids."
DADDIEE suddenly piped up,
with a new sound,
that of bugs skittering
that made nerves crawl,
and left me worrying.

Being the oldest one,
I responded very carefully.
"Mom's four questions, bot!
What, why, how, and where?"
Without a second's hesitation
it answered all four.

"Speakers to enjoy those metallic battles' din,
better connections to stream it more smoothly,
if we can still afford some more,
I'd appreciate a high-end graphics card."
He stated quite firmly, monitor showing fights
"And to keep happy, from household funds."

I hemmed and hawed,
as stories often say,
seeking an exit strategy
from this wild request.
But none worked out
against his stubborn positions.

I tried them all,
as did my sisters,
to absolutely no avail.
In the end, caving,
we handed over numbers
for school supply accounts.

He complained over choices
of shipping speeds stuck
to his coming packages,
those accounts being low.
And the house echoed
with more robotic wars.

"Should have cut pencils."
He moaned over dinners,
which weren't very nutritious,
being ice cream sandwiches.
"Then drone service might
be within our range!"

Little sister's big sigh
preceded her own rant.
"You'd just hack it,
starting delivery bot jousts!"
Pushing aside her plate,
she stormed towards bed.

"Not a bad idea."
DADDIEE said, with laughs,
that awful insect noise
being his preferred chuckle.
"But to do that
I'll need more parts."

By mom's return, a full month in,
DADDIEE had drained even household accounts dry
seeking new things to keep him happy,
some of which scared even my big sister.
Like that BB cannon, with extra magazines
mounted upon his remote controlled toy helicopter.

Mom noticed no changes,
even when I asked,
save to lecture us
on falling grade points,
and not chide DADDIEE
about the growing clutter.

And already we groaned
as she announced loudly
DADDIEE was in charge
as she was leaving
again come the morning,
for two months now.

No sooner than door
closed behind mom's back,
DADDIEE spun up plans
to shock me further,
and somehow stun sisters
into silence, rarely done.

"I need a body!"
He announced over breakfast.
"Proper enjoyment of battles
requires use of armchairs
to bang upon frequently
when your team's losing!"

Which started the war,
as my sisters resisted
his attempts at taking
their beauty products allowances,
so he snagged harshly
my video game subscriptions!

Meals turned to pizzas
or cheap noodle dishes
when DADDIEE managed diverting
our meal purchasing accounts,
and lectured us about
be thankful we ate.

When the robot body finally did arrive,
we hoped that would end the problems.
Little did we realize, being so innocent,
that sports addiction was worse than drugs,
as everyone let the former keep on
doing their destructive plunge, often joining in.

Studying became futile effort,
as he began hollering
at the television screen
once he entered chassis
that he'd parked firmly
on living room sofa.

After a bit longer,
each night drove us
slowly towards staying away
so we missed it,
when he took over
mom's home office area.

"But I needed it, kids."
He whined when caught.
"Mom's never home anyways,
and every good fan
needs his man-bot cave
to honor his team!"

That was the end,
for mom walked in
and freaked out severely
over huge credit bills,
and pile of dishes
still in the sink.

"You're just like them!"
Mom's strident yells echoed,
as fan-boy artifacts fell
from our high windows
to shatter on concrete
with her own creation.

"Please! Honey! I'll Change!"
his failing speakers wailed.
"I love you, baby,
and the kids too!
But I can't surrender
my team for love!"

Now mom threatens to enter convents regularly,
as other tossed man-bots pass us by
when we run errands to repair loses
DADDIEE laid upon our poor family finances.
Yet, she slows, as with boy-friends past,
when his battered shell rolls along streets...
which leaves me worried, she'll forgive him.

11August2014 - Dyfedd Rex.
And to the person who came to this site by that keyword search, if they dared return, to paraphrase a comedian... "Here's your poem."

NaNoWriMo 2013 - Coming up way too soon

Got lots of story ideas, still no clear idea of what to try this year. Planning on using it, as always, to drive job interview interruption-itis.

Well, Let's take a look at my early candidates.

Mr. Tanner still wants to tell me what he lost that week....and how, maybe even why, or at least why it's on his expense account requests.

Looking again at Crossing of the Shadows and Knife Has No Forgiveness. Two tougher pieces to write, both high fantasy, one a Billenius Tale, the other the final hunt of Scorpio Kenrai.

However, Scorpio seems to be talking about two different tale as well. Both are from early in his career, the first is Blade of Smoke and Shadows, on how he makes his first real friend among other peoples, and second tale being Blood of the Hunters, a story of an elemental demon that attacks his peoples, both of them, the blood ones and the adopted.

I also have been suffering from an idea that defied the efforts of being a short story, even in outline/research, a steam-punk mystery thing.

Then we have a true sci-fi tale, as CJ swung by about a moment ago and demanded to know when I planned on telling any of his tales.

Also in the wings is a dark tale told from the dragon's point of view about captivity in a circus, a tale of erotic horror/sci-fi that keeps popping up (The Harpies of Sheol) fighting it out with Mazetown (a cyber-punk erotic horror idea that died early on last year), and a mythic tale from my world called (for now) For the Honor of the Twenty-Third, about the fall of the Old North Empire.

Yeah, too many ideas, I know. Which is why you will see me working them out here over the next few weeks, narrowing them down, presenting the finalists for laughs and jeers, as well as maybe a few thumbs up. and then making a choice.

I will put up full synopses next week, after I take a few days to think it all over. And maybe even some maps of the places I am thinking about setting tales in.

Drive-by Flamers in Upside-down Beemers - a poem about flame tossers

Background: So, there was this person who flamed and flounced on a writing group I have an association with... and reading some of the comments, I realized I missed some great groans and laughs as it went down on the sidelines and I missed it... until the "Strike Three" call was issued....
This was my take on the way it may have went, from the banter I entered into.... and if the person who flounced don't like it, tough... unlike the others, being homeless has given me asbestos boxers (okay, I wear jockey styles, but still....) so blast away.

From the shady internet alleys
their fiery projectiles of words fly
as they duck silently in
only to flee faster yet
tipping over the virtual wheels
as they take the exit
way above the posting speed
and trash their imaginary Beemer
(the real one already upside-down)
into the guardrails of etiquette
of the boards they defile
as they do their drive-by's
to deflate other folks' egos
with hateful and inappropriate posts
while impersonating folks with skills
they never demonstrate bits of
despite pumping their own press
thinking the bigger the balloon
the better their chances are,
not seeing the flames igniting
the cattle by-product they sling
nor the fall to come
over Polite Discourse's steep cliff.
Leave your own requiem, please.
(22Apr2012 - Dyfedd Rex)

Demonic Cyborg Saxbot Schoolgirl Nuns from the Hyades - an older poem

-Chatbots inpired more of my early stuff than I care to admit most days, just the constant attacks of flirty comments and flying off to avoid detection. This one came from that  and some other comments of other folks that day/night. Usually these came on Sunday mornings, as I drank coffee, or early in the wee hours, as I sat up on the patio doing something else.... these are congealing eventually into a tale of science and lust gone wrong, I can tell.

The invasion went awry due to the conflicting signals.
Vatican TV crossed with The Jazz Channel in the wormhole
as well as some sick scifi shows and anime from Japan.
So the invaders had a strange sense of the soldiers to send
to conquer poor earth from the get go.

They created a race of curvy bio-demonettes,
succubi with bright red skin, cute faces,
long black hair with a great set of horns.
Then bound nanobots to them as thighboots
gloves and onsey thong bathing suits.

Upon their silver armored cyberized parts
crosses and yin-yangs grew black as the sins
that the babes from the stars were meant
to inspire in all they met and spoke with,
and their touch carried joygasms.

But this is where they all went wrong
for instead of seeking to lure the humans
to bed and subdue their torrid passion
with bodies built and enhanced for the giggity
The wielded golden saxophones.

Skilled in the arts of jazz, blues and early rock
with a little band music tossed in for fun
the aliens came to soothe our souls
instead of steal them as fuel for hell's fires
with sweet notes of brass and reeds.

They formed bands, and stormed the charts
took to the internet with an ease that made
the boy bands and dizzy girls jealous
until one would serenade them to callm thoughts
about rain, streams and oceans.

While the invasion lasted, and its still going on
the music from the Hyades ruled the airwaves
with the tenors, altos, and even rare bass saxes
turning us into their dancing yet relaxed slaves
Until their masters come and conquer our world.