Archive for March 2014

Subzero

15 Mar 2014

Reader A (shivering): Qué frío tengo yo. Ay, qué frío.

Reader B: What? Is that Spanish?

Reader A: …

Reader B: Why are you speaking Spanish?

Reader A: I don’t know. It just seemed like a good idea. It’s kind of boring out here now that Hornblower isn’t around anymore.

Reader B: Yeah, I know what you mean. I’m kind of bitter about the whole thing. I mean, he just abandoned us.

Reader A: I guess he must have his reasons, though, I figure. I mean, I guess he must.

Reader B: Do you think so, though? It seems like he doesn’t really care anymore, like it’s not worth the effort for him. Which is bullshit, by the way, bec–

Hornblower: BULLSHIT, READER B?

Readers A & B (Reader B just slightly behind, like half a beat. Classic dumbass Reader B move.): Hornblower!

Hornblower: It’s true I have returned from my long silence, and shoulder now the mantle once again. Too long have readers suffered such misfortune as rightly ought be borne by baser men.

Reader A: Well, I’m awfully glad you’re ba–

Hornblower:

They splash’d and sputter’d daily at their toil, in hopes of tasting some slight succor soon, yet every evening they return’d still sickly, and clicked and double-clicked until the moon …

Reader B (hushed, to Reader A): What’s going on here? What’s he talking about?

Reader A: Shh, I think he’s talking about his absence. Listen.

Hornblower: … rose slow but certain, witness to the hope that loyal readers still maintained, despite the ever-growing doubt, and fear, and dread. They clicked and double-clicked until the light.

Where once new posts appeared as sure as spring
returns lost luster to long-barren lands;
where years ago great mirth and subtle wit
elevated tales of dope new bands.

Reader B: Is that iambic pentameter? It sounds like iambic pentameter.

Reader A: Well that last line was only nine syllables, but yeah I think for the —

Hornblower:

Now page views dropped, and readers fell to sadness,
for sadness is a natural response
when what was once a fortress falls to ruin —
and blankness sits where thrived exquisite taunts.

Reader A: What’s next for Tin Speaker, Hornblower? What do you have left up the old sleeves in the old sleeve pockets?

Hornblower: Expect a lot of poop jokes and ostrich GIFs.

Reader A: Poop … and ostriches?

Hornblower: My SEO guy says that’s the only way to make this thing profitable. Apparently thousand-word concert reviews with no accompanying pictures don’t drive traffic the way they used to do.

Reader B: Did they ever, though, really?

Hornblower: GODDAMNIT, READER B! EVERY GODDAMN TIME I TRY TO BE NICE TO YOU, YOU SHIT ALL OVER ME!

Reader A: Seriously, Reader B. Get a grip on your life and your dignity.

Hornblower: You’re like a weirder John Travolta, minus the money and the Breitling watch. And minus Saturday Night Fever and Pulp Fiction, cos I liked those.

Reader A: Phenomenon was pretty good, too!

Hornblower: Are you fucking kidding me, Reader A.

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