Ok getting back on topic for a moment. I'm half way through my first novel, sort of in the vien of Dougals Adams I suppose (Hitchhikers Guide etc). Here's the introduction... (do I get a prize for the longest post?) Constructive critisism only please, I'm easily offended. Crabbit you're barred from this thread from now on!
It is a parasite.
And to make matters worse it's an alien parasite, manufactured on a tiny, far away pimple of a planet by tiny alien scientists, who despite being no bigger than your average mouse, are a squillion times more intelligent than we are. For it's mission on Earth, all instructions, directions, navigation and guidance systems were meticulously pre-programmed into its genes and just in case anything unforeseen should happen they packed a spare pair of genes in the bottom of its suitcase. They gave it a long scientific name with twenty three letters and some numbers at the end. The nearest that the English language can get to it is Brian. Brian would rather be called a virus, he thinks it sounds more sophisticated.
He arrived on Earth almost eleven years ago in search of a host. Any male with an active sex life would do but of all the millions of males on this planet it chose Derek, in hindsight a seriously poor decision for a highly intelligent sex mad alien parasite, sorry virus, to have made.
You see, the males on planet Pimple seem to have lost the ability to, if you'll pardon my expression, produce the juice. Oh they go through all the right motions, make the right noises, clench their little fists and other bits at the right times but then, just at the highest moment of passion, nothing; zippo; zilch. Their brains disconnect from their squirty bits and so the "Let's go boys, over the top, last one in is a sissy" message doesn't get received and everything collapses in a dry and flaccid heap. The females are not at all pleased and if there was just one male on the whole planet who could manage a ‘money shot' he would be a very popular little male indeed.
Our story begins in the Accident and Emergency Unit of Derek's local hospital. It's one o'clock in the morning on Saturday the 7th of April and Derek is lying on a bed in a small but private treatment room. He arrived at the hospital in handcuffs and escorted by two policemen who are waiting outside the treatment room and trying not to look too conspicuous. He has several puncture wounds on his right leg and some cuts on his forehead and a very tired looking junior doctor is dabbing absentmindedly at his leg wounds with cotton wool. "How did you get yourself into this mess, Derek?" he asks without too much interest in the answer. Derek leans back on his elbows and before he can stop them, his eyes close and his mouth droops open. The doctor nods to the nurse and she silently opens the door to allow one of the policemen to slip through and stand behind Derek. The policeman opens up his notebook and licks the end of his pencil. If only he had known what was about to happen he could have asked for another six notebooks and three more pencils. Brian rewinds Derek's memory video to 06:59 on Tuesday the 3rd of April, presses PLAY and Derek begins to relive the events of the last four days as they get projected onto the inside of his eyelids. The doctor, the nurse, the policeman and Brian remain in the treatment room and listen to his story as it slowly unravels itself. You can join them if you wish and just so that you can tell when Brian is interrupting I'll put his words in brackets (that's very thoughtful of you). wee off Brian this is all your fault. (you've obviously got me confused with someone who cares)
Back at ‘Mission Control' the scientists are gathered around a console waiting for the precise moment to issue the instruction which will send Brian hurtling backwards through space, whether he's ready or not. One of the scientists holds a finger over a button labelled PRESS BUTTON B FOR RETURN whilst another raises an arm and starts a countdown.
FIVE
(impatient horrible persons)
