He stabbed a knife into the real blurb’s thorax, some evil- smelling gunk spurted out of the wound, purple it was…
(Fuck! It burns!)
…and now the fly had twisted around in the vice, somehow constricting its body. Its little teeth had sunk into Jazir’s hand.
Thunderloo!
Jazir felt the pain, clutched his hand, and went dizzy for a second. The blurb was almost free of the vice. The knife dug deep until Jazir breathed again, wiped the gunk off his face and looked at the wound in his hand, then at the blurb. Wasn’t there supposed to be some coding that stopped them from biting humans? Play to win, play to win… an insect dying into a gasp of air.
He spliced the thing open. Inside he found only more of the evil-smelling gloop, some wires, but no mechanism of any kind. No clues as to how it flew or where it kept its message, or even how it broadcast the message. Jazir was shocked to discover himself in awe; the thing was totally organic. That’s when he started to fall in love with the AnnoDomino Co. Because how the hell did they make such a wonder?
Jaz cut deeper. Muscle and wire and message-juice. Such rich meat. Maybe Jaz should introduce it into a curry one night?
Maybe make a Rogan Blurb curry out of the fly? Fried with special sauce, a new meal for his father’s limited curryverse? How would the punters love that?
ROGAN BLURB
Ginger, garlic and ghee; put them all into a karahi. Add chunks of blurbfly, until they brown. Cardamom, bay leaves, seven cloves and a peppercorn. Cinnamon and sinnerman. Add the slogans, the secret curry paste, coriander and cumin. Add water. Bring to a boil. Cover and publicize for an hour or so. Boil away the liquid. Sprinkle with garam masala. Sprinkle with logo. Stir and serve to the public.
Heat Rating: media hot
Psychedelia Smith! The punters would love it dearly. And his father the same, maybe at last admitting Jazir to his world. Jaz poured some of the gloop into a test tube and put a cork in place. He had it now, the real inner workings of a domino fly. All he needed was good analysis. Some of the gunk had splashed over a pile of computer disks. He tried to wipe off most of it, but the stuff was actually sinking into the casing. Out of curiosity, just to see if the disks could cope, he slipped one of them into his computer. It went in nice and cool, even easier than usual, like a Frank Scenario ballad number.
Play to win
Meanwhile, waiting for love, a young, homeless girl was trawling St Anne’s Square, hoping to make contact with a certain Eddie Irwell, in order to cash in her domino. But the big Eddie was nowhere to be seen. His begging hole was filled up tightly instead with a rather bulbous secondary specimen.
‘Is Eddie not here today?’ the girl asked of the fat tramp. ‘Eddie can go fuck himself,’ the tramp replied. ‘This is my hole now.’
‘What do you call yourself, fellow traveller?’
‘I’m calling myself Fats Domino.’
‘Ain’t that a shame.’
‘What you calling yourself, smart-arse girl?’
‘Can you tell me where Eddie is, please?’
‘Eddie didn’t turn up today. Hard cheese. This is my hole now.’
‘I think you should get out of there, fatty.’
‘Aren’t you that famous winner of a half-bone I’ve heard about? Please, let me relieve you of the burden.’
‘You can’t claim my winnings without Eddie. No way!’
‘Little Miss Celia…’
Another voice this time, and when Celia looked round the square, she saw that all the beggars had come over from Deansgate to surround her. ‘Little Celia… we’ve got your Eddie safe and tight in bondage.’
A crusty old woman speaks up, glistening with road-juice for all to see. ‘Now all we want is the half-cast bone. Surely you’re not going to disappoint us? Play to win, baby. Isn’t that the ruling?’ And as the tramps close in…
PLAY THE RULES
9a. The Company must always ensure that the game is played according to the rules.
9b. No purchase price will be refunded, unless rule 9a is broken.
9c. The penalty for breaking rule 9a is a private matter between the Company and its ruling bodies.
9d. No player may use artificial means to win the game.
9e. The penalty for breaking rule 9d is public humiliation, a hefty fine and a lifetime ban from playing this or any other game.
Play to win
Daisy Love found herself battling against a customer who wanted a loser’s discount. Every Saturday it was the same: some sad-hearted failure would arrive with the latest guide to winning the bones under their sweaty elbow. He or she would bang the manual down hard on the counter, declaim, ‘I’ve lost!’ and, This book, right, this book’s a pile of shit! I followed all the advice, didn’t win a fucking bean!’ or even, ‘It shouldn’t be allowed, selling such rubbish!’ Then they would invariably demand their money back, in the loudest tones possible, so that all the other customers could hear. The complainer, this time, was a leopard-skinned posh woman, of passing years, complete with matching handbag and hairdo. ‘Well, young lady,’ she howled at Daisy, ‘are you, or are you not, going to refund my purchase price? Because if you’re not, well… I shall have to have words with your manager.’