Entertainment time – The Orchid Girl

Most of you didn’t know that Broken Girl is a writer too. This one is hers, not mine. It’s a work of fiction, unlike her previous factual accounts. You’ll need to keep that firmly in mind.

Yes, you have to contend with two of us spinning horrible stories now. Enjoy :)


The Orchid Girl

“How has it affected me?”

Lying on the sofa, feeling the smooth leather against her bare feet, making light spots in the ceiling with the metal in her hands, she almost felt free to talk.

“I am scared all the time. Did you know that you can get sick from panic attacks? I found out in a bush. You know I went to the police. I really just wanted it to go away, but I went right after church the morning after. Want to know what they did? They laughed.” Standing up, she pointed the 9 mm at the guy on the bed. “I’m afraid to leave my house because of you.”

On shaking legs she sat down in front of the chair, looking up through her bangs. “You know, getting a gun wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. My last savings went on it but it’ll be worth it don’t you think? Now I apologise for the pink fur on the handcuffs but they were the only ones I could find in such a short time. But I guess they work just as well as the others.” She heard a muffled yell behind the duct tape.

“Yes, it was a big shock when I saw you at my bus stop the other day. I never thought I’d see you again. A month seemed much too soon. It did take me a bit of following around to find out where you live. I must say I’m impressed. Yes, yes, you already told me that I could take whatever I want. Don’t you worry. I’ll leave with what I came for.”

Digging into a pink handbag next to her she pulled up a pair of scissors and smiled. Disposing of the gun into the bag she went to the side of the bed and started cutting off his jeans.

“Hush now with all that screaming. No-one can hear you anyway. Do lay still or I’ll cut you. Won’t it be good to get out of these wet jeans? I must say I’m disappointed in you. A grown man pissing himself. I had full bladder control when you…” She looked up at him with big blue eyes, scissors shakingly digging into his thigh drawing blood. “Shit!”

Walking back to her bag she dropped the scissors into it and fished up a pack of Camels, lighting one. “I hope you don’t mind but after I tied you up I had a snoop around your kitchen. I must admit I hadn’t planned much further ahead than getting you tied up. I just want you to feel what it’s like. How I felt when you pinned me down. Anyway I borrowed a few things and your laptop. I figured castration was the way forward. You know my grandparents used to have a farm. I’d help gathering the piglets when they grew big enough and they’d get a ring around their testicles and we’d wait on them to go away by themselves. But we don’thave that kind of time together so it’s just my luck that I found this.” She waved a Stanley knife in front of his face.

“Now lets see what Google has to say on castration. This looks easy enough. A cut on each side and we can pop them out like almonds. I’m pretty sure I once saw it done on a dog on tv so no worries. I’m almost a doctor.”

Lighting another cigarette, she sat down between his legs placing a towel underneath his scrotum. Placing the Stanley knife there, she made herself ready to cut when a sob wracked through her body. Bending over, holding herself tight she looked up at him with tearful eyes as another sob shook her frame.

“Why did you have to do this? I was just walking home. I was a good girl. Really, I was! I just want to go home!”

She could feel her teeth chattering and her body shaking. She needed to calm down. There wasn’t time to lose it. Taking a deep breath she gripped the knife and moved forward. The first cut was the hardest. The skin was thicker than she had imagined and it wasn’t easy to see with all the blood. She could hear him screaming under the tape, feel his body tighten at the pain. Taking a good grip around the ball she pressed and a white ball came out looking almost as if she had popped out an eyeball. She just managed to lean to the side as she lost what little she had in her stomach. Cutting off the stone at the stalk she started her work on the other. The blood was flowing faster than she thought and her blood soaked hands were shaking.

Her light soprano floated through the room “I was born sick. But I love it. Aaaay Amen Amen Amen!” She heard the sloppy sound of the second stone leaving the scrotum and giggled “I guess no one will take you to church anytime soon”

She placed the knife to cut at the cord when her hand slipped in the blood. She heard a grunt as the knife dissapeared into his thigh as if had it been butter.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” In a move of panic she pulled out the knife and felt the arterial spray cover her face and chest. In the background she heard a phone ringing and the answering machine kicking in.

A female voice appeared. “Hi John! I just wanted to say thanks for a wonderful date Saturday night. I had a great time. Call me!”

She heard the beep. It was the only thing she could hear. Evolving into a ringing in her head as confusion started to take over. Scrambling, she tried putting a towel to his thigh but it was too late. She started sobbing. She couldn’t think. A noise broke through the ringing in her ears.

She didn’t even know when she’d started screaming.

Little Table part 2

Well, the block set nicely so I took out the scroll saw. I also refitted the safety screen because I have to be less personally dangerous these days. There’s someone who it matters to now.

scrollsawThe table top went for an egg shape since it’s for a baker and egg shape is easier than cake or bread shaped. The scroll saw did it in a few minutes.

scrollsaw2Yes, I really did use the safety thing in the ‘down’ position. I’m not messing around with the new ‘careful me’ here.

Anyway, some filing and filling and sanding and some more cutting later and I ended up with a set of parts.

plumwoodpartsAll made of plum wood. The hole in the block on the table top is centred, the block itself is not. That’s because I split so many blocks trying to drill that hole that I gave up and took the best one. It’s under the table, so hardly anyone will notice.

The filler patch is Milliput. I did worry that it might not take woodstain too well but again it’s underneath so not too much of an issue. In the end it worked okay.

Glueing all the parts together with a dangerously fast-setting glue that says ‘avoid skin contact’ in small print I should have read first, I ended up with a nicely level-topped table that is two inches (about 5 cm) high. And I managed not to glue myself to it.

The arms of the rat chairs will fit under it if needed.

Table10Two coats of deep mahogany later and it looks like this.

tabledoneMaybe I’m getting big headed but I think that’s not too bad considering I started with a stick and a twig for the leg. Might need one more coat and then a shot of beeswax to shine it up.

Next I have to make a pack of cards, two whisky glasses and an ashtray. And nag the baker again for a photo of rats in chairs – this time with a table.

Fortunately I have another day off tomorrow. On target for a possible quick end to this project.

Which would be a nice change…

No safe level of alcohol

It was bound to come. The made-up ‘safe drinking levels’ have been reduced to new and yet still ‘unsafe’ levels because…

Alcohol is associated with cancers elsewhere and there is generally no safe level.

What a load of cobblers. More invented Puritan rubbish to drive you into a lifestyle that is no life at all.

As with smoking, attributing a rise in all sorts of cancers to something that has been far more prevalent in past years is not only non-science, it is patently ridiculous. As with smoking, if alcohol was the real cause, then the cancers should be declining, not increasing.

That’s not to say that excessive alcohol cannot cause cancer – but excessive alcohol will kill you through liver failure before any cancer gets time to properly develop. Which makes the cancer risk from alcohol somewhat irrelevant, really.

Oh I know all about this ‘there’s a time delay’ rubbish. Anyone with half a brain has noticed that the ‘time delay’ gets longer as the years pass, because the time when people were free to live their lives as they saw fit is getting further into the past.

How do you blame modern childhood illnesses on something that happened in the 1950s or 1960s? Well, you just make them hereditary. Job done.

Reseach your family tree and find out if your great-grandfather once smoked a cigarette and/or drank a shandy. If he did, then frankly, you’re fucked. Might as well order a coffin and book your cemetery plot right now because you’re going to be dead by next year.

Wild exaggeration? Look at what the NHS have been claiming. It’s exactly that!

The NHS are supposed to be there to fix you when you break. That’s what they were set up to do. They are not supposed to be there to terrify people into so much stress that they end up in an early grave after a life of doing pretty much nothing enjoyable at all.

That’s what Inquisitions and Puritans are for. It’s not what the medical profession is for.

Well, when they’ve scared the weak and feeble to death, let’s see how they cope with those of us who are still here. We’ll still be here because we ignore their scaremongering ‘advice’.

Things could get difficult for them in future.



I’m bleeding again. Nothing serious, just a scratch. It’ll stop soon.

Ironically, I was searching for the safety guard for the scroll saw because I promised to refit it before putting my hands near that blade. It gets in the way, but then that was probably the point of it. Anyway, I caught my arm on something sharp in one of the boxes of stuff but at least I found that safety guard.

I’m not used to having someone worry about me. I’ve never been a worrier myself until recently, but then I spent most of the last three decades pretty much oblivious to the world. Last I recall, everyone was scared of nuclear war and a new Ice Age. Then it became rising sea levels and mass immigration. Now it seems everyone worries about everything.

Being scared of nuclear war was an odd one. They used to tell us we’d get three minutes’ warning before the bombs hit. What were we supposed to do in three minutes? What if you were out in the garden when the news came on the TV?

In the end, most of us decided we’d rather not have the warning at all. One second happy-go-lucky, the next second radioactive ash. Sounds like a good clean death, and we’d enter whatever afterlife there might be in a good mood.

Now we have to worry about being inexpertly decapitated by a lunatic with a knife, or shot while sunbathing, or just plain old stabbed. These are all horrible and massively painful ways to die. Can’t we have our atomisation by nuclear explosion worries back? They were, in retrospect, so much easier to deal with.

Those grooming gangs in the Rotherham area are finally being rounded up, slowly. Not too fast or there’d be nothing to worry about. The rogue travellers who have had pretty much free rein for so long are now being stamped on. Slowly. Not too fast, you have to stay worried about those too.

And of course, ISIS. Or whatever satellite group claims the name. There is now talk of sending in the military to fight them. That’ll be the same military that has been hammered by cuts, underfunded, undermanned, underequipped and with morale beaten down by the threat of redundancy notices being issued on the battlefield. Yes, that military is to take on a guerilla army that’s dressed like civilians and will then be castigated for shooting people who are dressed as civilians.

Going in to war knowing you have no way to really win must be the ultimate feeling of hopelessness. Whatever worries appear in my life surely cannot compare to that.

These days there is so much to worry about that I can’t find it in me to worry about any of it. It’s an overload of external worries. Yes, it’s dangerous out there in the world but you know what? It always was and always will be.

You can’t go through life worrying that you might be beheaded while unfashionably dressed in an Iraqi desert. That worry is easily circumvented by not going there.

Yes, you might get stabbed in the street or even in your own home. Trust me on this, it doesn’t need any fanatical interpretation of any religion for that to happen. That risk has always existed and will continue to exist even if knives are banned from private homes.

Guns are banned but people still get shot. Drugs are banned but people still go crazy on crystal meth. Criminal gangs and some religious fanatic groups are illegal but they’re still here.

Child abuse is illegal but still happens. It’s not new. Even the scale of it is not new. Most of the cases coming to light are historic, from years back. Nobody seems much interested in stopping the abuse that will be happening right now. It’s so much easier to prosecute the old cases.

So many things to worry about. So many scares and fears. So many monsters under the bed. There seems to be a new one every day.

Yet I don’t worry about any of them.

I worry about what they’re distracting us all from.



(I’ve stopped bleeding, by the way. I know someone out there would want to know that)

Planking (Little Table)

I have been planking.

The little chairs are done and now have knitted rats sitting in them. Still waiting for that photo.

Time to move on to the table. I’m thinking small card table with cards, ashtray and whisky glasses.

So… having learned my lesson from last time, I’ll start this time with bought-in stripwood, right?

Table1Yeah, like that was ever really going to happen. One three-year-seasoned plumwood branch, a saw and an electric plane is all I need to get started. I cut a reasonably straight piece and started shaving it down.

Then I sawed it almost in half and shaved a bit more off until I had a two-plank log

Table2See the red safety button on the side of the handle? No, you don’t, because it broke ages ago. No problem, I’ve bypassed it so the tool is good to go.

Soon I had four little planks ready to seal together

Table3Some serious wood glue and clamps were next up. Note that this is not making the top of the table, it’s making the block that table top will be cut from later. I am still considering round or hexagon. Time to decide later.

Table4When I clamp something it stays clamped. I have to leave this alone until tomorrow, which is hard for a natural meddler, but so far I have managed to do it.

The Table Begins. With no upholstery, it won’t take as long as the chairs.


A quiet week

It’ll be quiet here this week. I am on morning shifts and will have adjusted my sleeping patterns just in time to go back to my normal afternoon/evenings at the weekend. This means, at the moment, I’m almost permanently knackered and staying awake on espresso and chemical fizz.

Mopzilla isn’t working out too well and isn’t likely to stay long. Damn, another potential replacement fails to make the grade so I am still the janitor at Local Shop.

However, this situation is no longer ‘for the forseeable future’. I have had very few requests for microbiology work in recent years and both writing and model building have been slowed by some pretty wild life changes. There is another big one coming soon and then it should, I hope, settle quickly.

This week, the week of permanent tiredness, was a bad week for two good things to happen. Still, happen they have, and I have to grab them while they’re there.

First, I’ve been asked to write a project proposal for a company which could lead to a pretty big chunk of work. They need an outline by the end of the week. Fire up the espresso machine!

Then, just today, I have been contacted by a publisher who wants a non-fiction book on some aspect of the paranormal. My choice of subject, and acceptance is guaranteed unless I make a total balls-up of it. I’ve already written on the subject and have built up an extensive reference library so it won’t be a balls-up at all. They also want an outline – just a paragraph – soon.

I’m taking on both opportunities, even though it does mean little sleep for a few days. Once I’m back on normal sleeping times it will get easier. This week, though, I have to use most of my awake-time to write these summaries.

Next week I start work on the real things, but will be blogging again also. Sorry for the lack of postings in the next few days but, if you’ll excuse me, I have a future to build :)

At the start of this year I said I wanted to have two books finished by the end of it. We’re now halfway through the year and I haven’t finished either of them so I’ll revise that resolution from two books this year…

…to four.


Thanks for the phone advice. I had not thought about the spaminator’s reaction to so many phone-related comments. I think I let everyone out now.

It’ll be a while, but I think I’ll go for getting my own phone with a SIM biased to data. I’ll take further advice at Carphone Warehouse before deciding finally.

I’ll let you all know how I get on.

This week I’m on morning shifts and those always mess up my natural sleeping patterns. No decisions this week!