Flash fiction

My uncle was the joker in the family, and he had 2 favourite jokes.

One was about a dog in the Wild West searching for the man who shot his paw.

The other was to pretend outrage whenever he saw an ad for “DC Exhausts.”

There were a surprising number of these ads in Dublin, usually on the backs of buses.

My uncle’s initials were DC, so he enjoyed pretending it was a public service announcement warning that he, DC – my uncle – made people tired.

Rather than it being an ad for car parts.

He lived in the US for a few years, and I’m convinced he returned to Ireland because he missed his joke.

In the States, the ad would be for “DC Tailpipes”, which isn’t the same.

I never understood Dublin’s fascination with exhausts.

I’ve moved around a lot, and have never seen another city advertise them so intensely.

And out of respect for my uncle’s joke, I’ve never looked into it either.

The truth couldn’t live up to my uncle’s mock indignation which served as the punchline for that beloved, ridiculous joke.

Even now, the back of a bus reminds me of DC Exhausts and my uncle.

We’re like that, aren’t we?

We connect a place, or phrase – or automobile part – with someone, and it always reminds us of them.

That’s certainly the case in my new video.

In this week’s flash fiction video, it’s a particular smell.

Come find out why a pleasant hint of bleach hangs over everything in “Little Ducklings” on YouTube now!

(FYI, this one’s a bit darker.)

Chat soon,
Morgan

Read more - and get two free ebooks - here: morgandelaney.info/newsletter.

Hey there,

Instead of writing, I was procrastinating with a newspaper article on interior design.

Then I wasn’t procrastinating, because I had my story.

Seven Secrets Interior Designers Don’t Want You To Know:

1. Interior design is all about lamps. You can replace an interior designer with a truckload of fancy lamps.

Bear in mind, though, lamps are for ambiance, not lighting.

Only use bulbs that provide about as much light as a hot carrot.

2. All interior designers want to tell you about their “Uncle Jeremy.”

Standard opening gambits include:

• that time Uncle Jeremy was a horse;
• you won’t believe what Uncle Jeremy found in Zsa Zsa Gabor’s kitchen in the 80s, and
• he’s retired now, but this space is so interesting, I’m sure he’d look at it for free, if you’d like?

But he is not their uncle.

He is their sire.

3. They didn’t want to be interior designers. Uncle Jeremy insisted. They wanted to be artists. Hence the tasteless nude statues.

At night, in the dim orange light of a hundred lamps, the statues shine with a feverish, bloated glow.

4. Interior designers will get rid of your practical storage space to make room for more dim lamps.

You therefore have nowhere to hide the awful statues, your vacuum cleaner, and the plastic bags you keep accumulating despite your solemn promise to Save the Planet.

5. Thank God you said that; I thought I must be going mad. The downstairs bathroom really is gone, isn’t it? I mean it can’t be, they must have just hidden the door behind some curtains or something. What about behind that big Triffid-looking lamp?

Let me check there… ouch!

Can’t we just have one proper light? For emergencies?

We’ll never find the toilet—or the cat—like this.

6. You know who can see in the dark?

Uncle Jeremy.

He sees everything as he crawls over the ceiling above your head in the hot carrot darkness.

7. Though mocked as being bland or boring, neutral colours have a wonderfully calming effect on victims.

This improves the taste of their flesh.

END

Back in 18th century Dublin, interior design just meant making sure there was less rain inside the house than outside.

That, and having somewhere to hide when the Fairy Queen came to visit.

In case she turned up hungry…

See what’s on the menu in A Grave & Dreadful Business here!

Chat soon!
Morgan

Read more - and get two free ebooks - here: morgandelaney.info/newsletter.

Hey there,

While still in school, my friend and I (Hey, John!) went to the Aran Islands by ourselves for Halloween.

Nowadays, you’d be arrested if you let your children go alone to a group of islands off the west coast of Ireland, but back in the “good old days,” it was fine.

Actually, around that time, myself and John wrote some poetry, so possibly we were *sent* to the Aran Islands to make us stop.

Who can say?

Anyway. Everyone got into the Halloween spirit.

Either you put on a mask and dressed up, or you left your door open to provide tea and biscuits to masked weirdos.

Because the island is so small, everyone knew everyone else – except me and John, and a few others – so once you masked up, you had to keep your mouth shut.

Saying, “I’d love a custard cream, thanks, Dermot,” would give you away.

Walking into town past groups of horribly made-up and completely silent people was great fun.

And very spooky.

Which is what I have for you today, with two video recommendations!

The Humans is a slow, nebulously oppressive comedy drama.

When Brigid and Richard move into their first flat, they invite Brigid’s family over to celebrate Thanksgiving.

This won’t be for everyone.

It’s verrry slow, and nothing happens, but the characters, dialogue, cinematography – and the dreadful, dreadful flat – are all excellent.

I loved it.

Check out The Humans here.

My second recommendation is a short film on YouTube, so you’ve no excuse not to watch it.

A man’s love for Whose Line Is It Anyway and The Mask takes him to a dark place…

Grab a cup of something, and your comfort blanket, for The Mask!

Chat soon!
Morgan

Read more - and get two free ebooks - here: morgandelaney.info/newsletter.

a Twitter-rated story

Hey there,

I don’t know how you do it, but the way I dry myself after a shower reminds me of Elon.

Musk, you know?

I might have to stop taking showers for the sake of my sanity.

Unless you can spot where I’m going wrong and advise on what I should do instead?

(A sentence you’ll never hear Elon say.)

Let’s run through the scenario together.

Your hero – me – turns on the water and gets into the shower.

He washes himself.

A slow, smoky saxophone starts to play.

He turns off the water.

Gets out of the shower, causing the pigeons looking through the window to coo and trill.

He grabs a big emerald-green towel. Pats his face and hair to dry them.

The saxophone speeds up, becomes urgent.

He raises his right arm up in the air to dry his armpit.

Thinks, “Doing this makes me look like Elon.”

Drops his arm and turns to see the pigeons flying away in disgust.

The saxophone solo turns into a kazoo raspberry.

I can see only two bright spots.

First, if I give up showers, I’ll save water for the environment.

Second, just thinking about Elon won’t cause him to magically appear.

Which is not the case for graverobbers Aicke and Bowen.

They can never forget they work for Sionnóra, the Fairy Queen, but have to avoid doing anything that might draw Her attention.

Even thinking about Her can be dangerous.

Find out how to escape a fairy queen without thinking about Her, in A Grave & Dreadful Business here!

Chat soon!
Morgan

Read more - and get two free ebooks - here: morgandelaney.info/newsletter.

My latest book is a historical fantasy horror mystery mashup, and it’s out now!

Bury them. Sell them. Lose them.
You can’t keep a good body down.

It’s 18th century Dublin, and the quiet Thaddeus Aicke, and hopelessly optimistic Cuno Bowen, can only find work in a graveyard. Selling bodies to unscrupulous anatomists.
Until the night dark fairy magic accidentally returns a dead girl to life…

They enlist the giant Doyal and the resourceful Madame Furey to help them scour the streets. They can’t let anyone else find the missing body. Not their best client, the dead girl’s father.
Certainly not the terrifying Fairy Queen.

But they’re confronted only by criminals, police, and suspicious family members of the deceased on the rain-drenched streets. With a little luck, they can talk their way out of trouble. If things get physical, they have their spades.
But they should be fine. Grand. Unless the Fairy Queen learns they’ve been selling the bodies she spent centuries collecting…

With a week before she returns, time is running out for them to discover where the dead girl went.
If they don’t want to join her.

Get it here now: https://books2read.com/GraveAndDreadful

(yes, please)

Hey there,
The pain in my shoulder is gone.
Iʼll have to tackle my ears next.

Close to our flat is a fancy ice-cream shop called Cone Culture.
They do flavours like Honey Lavender, Orange & Cloves, and Blue Cheese ice-cream.
Iʼm boring about ice-cream, so we usually go elsewhere.
(Favourite flavour at the moment: amarena cherry.)
Iʼve tried their Orange & Cloves, and itʼs good.
The problem starts when you want two scoops.
Good luck finding something that goes well with Blue Cheese.
Other than garlic.
Yes, they have garlic ice-cream.

Not that Iʼm against crazy combinations.
Walking back from the hospital after getting my shoulder checked, a group of people were dithering outside Cone Culture.
And I swear I heard the lady at the ice-cream window say, “Sausage and Cocaine?ˮ

Obviously, she didnʼt.
I stopped to check.
It was just my ears playing tricks on me again.
Damn you, ears!
Iʼve had them checked before, and the doctor said my ears are fine.
Itʼs my head thatʼs the problem.
Cheeky bugger.
But sausage and cocaine is a combination I could really get behind.

And Iʼm not the only one into strange mixes.
My latest book A Grave & Dreadful Business reached number 28 in the Humorous Dark Comedy charts during its first weekend after release.
People must be into historical fantasy horror mystery mashups.
Huge thanks to everyone who already bought it!
If you havenʼt already, you can still grab it here!
Meanwhile, Iʼm going to treat myself to some sausage and… well.
Beans, probably.
Chat soon!
Morgan

Read more - and get two free ebooks - here: morgandelaney.info/newsletter.