75 words, in remembrance of Harlan Ellison

[TrickyDickie]

My Dog Screamed Fuck Today

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My dog screamed "FUCK!" today.

My morning coffee went straight into my lap. Scalded a perfectly good pair of nuts.

It was remarkable.

"You've never spoken before", said I, after applying some nut balm.

"I had nothing to say."

"What made you speak today?"

"Harlan Ellison died today."

"Did you know him well?"

"He kicked me, once."

"Did you deserve it?"

"He thought that I did."

"Is that enough?"

"Yes."

My dog screamed "FUCK TODAY!"

 

[TrickyDickie]

Anyone else care to write a 75-word short story in his memory?

 

[RJDiogenes]

Best I can do in five minutes:

REPENT, ELLISON
© 2018 Rick Hutchins

Nobody knows it, because everybody, down to the last prince or peon, is blissfully unaware of anything that truly matters, but the world has a heart. The diastoles are measured in eons and the systoles are measured in epochs.

Once, in between beats, it was visited by a beast who shouted, “Love!” And then died.

Perhaps the beast died for your sins, or perhaps because of them.

Or, perhaps, the only sin is not shouting.

 

[TrickyDickie]

^^ Yay!

 

[publiusr]

I remember seeing him on a documentary some years back. He had a nice private library. A few action figures--one he noted was made in China. Now I am left wondering what will happen to his collection of books--that looked to rival Forry's own Ackermansion.

Where will his estate go? I hope it is not scattered to the four winds in some sort of auction. There is something of his sout left there.

 

[TrickyDickie]

Now I am left wondering what will happen to his collection of books--that looked to rival Forry's own Ackermansion.

There's a good question.

I had a few items from Forry's, 'til I sold them to other fans. He really had a lot of great stuff.