A Strange Incident at Lydiard Park (A webcomic about Swindon Town's mysterious crytid)

Miss Morality in ‘The Tunnels of Intolerance’- Part Four (The Conclusion)

Written by: Mark. A. Pritchard

Released on: The Rorshach Rant- 25th March 2015



‘The tunnels of intolerance are everywhere my silly, muddled headed little daughter. When you think that you have closed one, another two open. That’s how it works, that’s how it has always worked. You might know me by another name….THE DISSENTER….Yes, it is me. The gang of criminals known as the ‘Politically Incorrect Scoundrels’ is my little group. I set it up when I faked my death and abandoned your stupid mother to get away from you. How is your mother nowadays anyway LOVE? Ha ha ha. Yes it was me who forced her to take those drugs; it was me that drove her into an early heroin induced grave. Ha ha ha ha, you women don’t know what you are up against. Your feminist resistance is doomed to failure, doomed I tell you, ha ha ha ha ha’

The dull grey glint of evil, white middle class privilege shone like a dirty cancerous tumour in his eyes as Miss Morality’s father spat his horrible, nasty, intolerant truth into her beatific, innocent face.

‘Daddy, I…. I…I…I can’t believe it…’ she stuttered, unable to respond to the hatred laced revelations coming from her own father.

‘Shut your cake hole, you spoiled brat. If you can’t talk without stammering, don’t talk at all. Did you really think that I was dead? Did you really think that my kind had simply died out, gone extinct like the dinosaurs? No, I simply bided my time, laid my trap, and you fell straight into it, like the stupid GIRL that you always were.’

Now he was bragging, really starting to enjoy himself and his final victory. Miss Morality slumped to the floor of her prison cell, unwilling to look into the face of evil, the face that was her father.

‘Get up LOVE,’ and he spoke that last word with particular spiteful relish, enjoying the connotation of sexist degradation that the word carries.

‘I have another surprise for you SWEETHEART. Stand-up, take it like a GIRL. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.’

And as his callous laugh taunted the very air around him a familiar voice spoke up from somewhere very near.

‘Sister, sister, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, sister indeed.’ 

‘Brother? Is that you?’ 

Miss Morality had bravely found her voice, and as she stumbled to her feet, there waiting, at her tiny prison-cell window was the leering face of her brother Ruthus.

‘The tunnels of intolerance run deep Sis. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Yes, I am one of them now. Daddy has cured me of my evil homosexuality. I am a real man now, and the Politically incorrect scoundrels have welcomed me with open arms. I even have a girlfriend. Her name is Claire. She is reaaaalllly pretty, ha ha ha ha. She is a secretary, ha ha ha ha ha ha.’

Miss Morality was on the verge of passing out. Her father always was an evil bastard, but he was a dead evil bastard, or so she had believed. Now, not only had he had returned from the dead, but he had brainwashed her poor innocent, homosexual brother Rufus as well. This was simply too much for her to take.

Rufus was no longer the confused, bumbling, effeminate sweetheart of a man that she had known and loved. He had been brainwashed, changed against his will (presumably) into something evil, something beyond human. Yes, those monsters had changed him into that worst of all creatures, the straight, white male.

The horror was almost too much for her to bear. Everything about him seemed different. He was wearing a football shirt. He smelt like cheap lager and his nails looked absolutely awful as he gripped her prison bars before delivering this final taunt to his despairing sister.

‘Hey Sis, before I forget. Your brat kid. She is ours now. The BBC Jimmy Saville Care-home for abandoned and vulnerable young girls is doing a fine job, but we need to bring her into the fold. She will make a fine housewife for one of our members, a fine housewife indeed, ha ha ha ha ha ha.’

The evil lager enthused laughter was punctuated only by the screams of a desperately clawing at her cell bars Miss Morality.

‘Noooooo, you monsters, you monsters, nooooooooo.’

‘See you in the pub later Dad. Champions League tonight, later mate.’ 

And with these final Hellish words coming from the now obscenely manly lips of her unrecognisable, brainwashed, not gay anymore brother, he was gone.

The last words in this awful scene of patriarchal brutality came from the woman hating mouth of the uniformed Police officer standing infront of the cell that contained a now curled up, weeping, convulsing Miss Morality.

She could no longer speak. All she could do was cry, and the evil incarnate that was her father, THE DISSENTER, delivered his final words like a knife in her back.

‘I’ll have custody of your darling baby girl in the morning LOVE. My Politically Incorrect Scoundrels own the courts. We own everything. Baby Sojourner will be taught to respect her man. No more feminism for her, she will never, ever taste the sweet, sweet air of emancipation and freedom away from our manly, hairy mitts. Goodbye DARLING, and remember. You can BITCH, you can whine, you can moan and complain, but the tunnels of intolerance run deep. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. The tunnels of intolerance run deeeeeeeep.’

END (Or, is it?)

And so ends my story. The message that it contains should be very clear. The tunnels of intolerance run very deep indeed dear reader. The world is a terrible place, but together we can break down those tunnels of intolerance, those hidden, underground networks of sexism, of racism, of homophobia and err, all of the other evil stuff like that. We can stop the evils of white, male, middle class, straight, privilege. Together, we can free female warriors like Miss Morality. We can save young girls from the evils of marriage, from motherhood and a wasted life loving and caring for their patriarchal prison construct called ‘family.’ It’s going to be a tough battle, but we can do it. Join the social justice warrior movement, and together we can rid the world of the evil that is patriarchy, forever.

* If any artist would be willing to illustrate this story, then please let me know.

Original fiction: Ms Morality in ‘The Tunnels of Intolerance’- Part One.

Written by: Mark. A. Pritchard
Released on: The Rorshach Rant- 27th February 2015


A thundering on the door was the signal of a new beginning, the start of a day that would change everything for young Ms Eva Truth (real name Elizabeth Ponsolby Holdings). Armed only with her mobile phone she bravely walked down the stairs to investigate just what the jolly hell was going on. By the time she had made the twenty-yard walk the Police were already on the scene. Her speed dialling bravery had saved the day once again.

She opened the door with caution, can of mace in hand, to find three Police cars, numerous Police officers and her handcuffed and embarrassed looking brother Rufus.

‘Oh hi Rufus, what’s up?’ said an empowered and confident Ms Truth.

‘Hi Liz, any chance you can explain to these gentlemen that I’m not the serial rapist you described on the telephone?’ replied a clearly annoyed and exasperated Rufus.

After a quick explanation, some on the spot counselling from a concerned WPC the brave feminist warrior Ms Truth finally allowed her brother to come into her house for a cup of tea, biscuits and a quick chat.

‘Now Rufus, before we begin I have to make things very clear here.’ Started a still shaking (but bravely) Ms Truth as she put the kettle on and made for the chocolate bourbons.

‘You have to understand that you can’t just knock on my door at 10am in the morning and expect me not to be concerned. You have to…..’

‘Wait a second,’ interrupted Rufus. I come around here every Wednesday morning to baby-sit for baby Sojourner and it hasn’t been a problem so far.’

‘Yes, but today is Thursday Rufus, today is Thursday.’

There was a stunned silence in the room, as Rufus came to the awful realisation that an entire day had gone misssing.

‘Oh my word,’ he cried. ‘Whatever could have happened? I feel a bit queazy. I thought it was Wednesday, but it’s actually Thursday??? Oh my mother earth goddess, I think I’m going to faint.’

‘You stay right here bruv, don’t do a thing, don’t even move a muscle,’ replied Ms Truth, now taking charge in a confident female manner. ‘This is a mystery for a super heroine to investigate, and I know just the woman for the job. You stay here. I need to make a call. ’

‘But what about baby Sojourner?’ replied Rufus. ‘Where is she? Is she at her Dad’s, is she….’

But before he could finish the sentence his fiercely determined sister was off, out of the room. There was no time to waste. Patriarchy was a menace that had to be snuffed out immediately, and every second spent talking about babies, children or families was a precious second wasted.

An hour later, and after the upstairs sounds of a shower, hairdryer and Pussy Riot CD, the living-room door flew open, and there she was, the heroine of the masses, the saviour of the offended, the amazingly empowered MS MORALITY.

What a sight it was to behold. Trouser suited, Pink Doctor Martin boots a cute orange balaclava and a little briefcase to show that this was a businesswoman, and not somebody that you should be messing with.

‘Greetings comrade. I hear you have been threatened/slightly offended by a mysterious event that was out of your control, and as a young homosexual gender neutral comrade of the politically correct nation of togetherness I am here to right all wrongs that were done to you.’

Her voice was booming, empowered and impressive, but not in an aggressive way. Young Rufus sat back in awe, quietly clapping his hands like a Dolphin at a theme park.

‘Ohhhh Ms Morality, I can’t believe that you have taken time-out from your duties at the politically correct nation of togetherness to help somebody like me.’

‘Of course comrade, that’s what we are here for. Whenever one of our comrades has suffered we are here to help. So what is the problem? Your sister told me that it was urgent, that you had lost something because of the evil system of white heterosexual patriarchy. Please tell me, calmly, in your own time, what have the evil b******s done to you? ’

After five minutes of explanation our quick-witted heroic detective/investigator/super-heroine determined that a conspiracy was afoot. It couldn’t be the fault of Rufus that he had managed to lose an entire day. He was after all just a single young gay man living all alone in the cold, harsh city. No, something else had to be happening, something bigger that needed to be investigated.

‘This is a most intriguing and complex mystery comrade Rufus. Your sister did the right thing to call me rather than letting you doing anything for your poor, innocent victim self.’ boomed the confident, and attractive (but not in a sexual way) feminist heroine.

‘I detect the intolerant and probably secretly gay workings of master criminal Doctor Homophobial behind what has happened to you. If anybody would have the motivation to cause the unpleasant scene with the Police that so victimised you this morning then it would have to be him.’

‘Oh, how do you know about the Police?’ replied Rufus. ‘I forgot to mention them. I just said that I’d lost a day and thought it was a bit strange.’

‘Ha ha ha, my young friend,’ replied the resplendent superheroine. ‘We are always listening, we are always watching, but just for your own protection of course.’

‘But now, I must be gone. It appears that Doctor Homophobial is up to his old tricks again, and it’s up to the nation of togetherness to stop him. That is our duty. That is our curse. Oh, and you don’t mind if I have a quick look around your flat for clues do you?’

‘Of course not Ms Morality, do you need a key?’ replied a now visibly shaking with excitement Rufus.

‘Ah no, that won’t be necessary. Just thought I’d ask. I’d hate to intrude on your privacy without asking.’

‘But didn’t you just say that you were listening and watching me for my own protection? And where’s my sister gone?’

‘No time for that comrade,’ interrupted a heavily in thought Ms Morality. ‘No time to waste, I must get to the bottom of this intriguing mystery.’

And with a quick nibble on a custard cream, the brave, heroic, towering, empowering superheroine was off into the dangerous mid afternoon traffic to investigate this now deepening mystery.

Meanwhile….deep in the bowels of their mancave of intolerance the evil gang of villains known as the ‘Politically Incorrect Scoundrels’ planned their next move. The leader of the Scoundrels, a particularly evil, devilish and devious character known only as ‘The Dissenter’ spoke up:

‘Stage one of the operation has now been completed my politically incorrect brethren of rogues. The trap has been sprung, and Ms Morality is walking straight into it. Now we move on to stage two of the plan. Operation Disempower is going exactly as planned, and it’s time we turned up the heat on little Ms Morality. Ha ha ha ha.’

The evil, intolerant laugh of the menace to society known as ‘The Dissenter’ echoed menacingly in the mancave of the rogues, and all the while Ms Morality was walking straight into their trap, a trap that could spell the end of her intolerance busting days, forever.


END OF PART ONE


Miss Morality will return next week (Friday 6th March) in ‘The Tunnels of Intolerance’- Part 2. What do the brethren of rogues have planned for her? What exactly is ‘Operation Disempower?’  All will be revealed next week. DON’T MISS IT.


* If any artist would be willing to illustrate this story, then please let me know.

Nothing happened: A short story for the modern age

Writer: Mark. A. Pritchard

Released: 11th February 2015

Publisher: The Rorshach Rant



Nothing happened, and so he waited, waited, waited.

Still nothing, so he acted.

On the day that would be his last he woke early, excited with the knowledge that finally, finally, finally, something was actually going to happen.

How exciting, an event, a scene, a moment when the apathy, the boredom, the routine, the tedium would be broken.

Forever.

Shower, shave, and the rest, his breakfast was light.

He put his shoes on, walked to the bus.

The driver glanced indifferently with cold dead amphibian eyes.

Still, he smiled.

Something was happening to him today; at last. The smile came naturally, like the dawn of a new day on a blood soaked battlefield.

It’s such a joy to smile, unprompted, to hide it with shy self-conscious embarrassment. But to let it out, let it beam to the universe, that is joy, that is freedom.

The young man was liberated, so close to his end, and free at last.

He fiddled with his coat, adjusted his backpack, time was almost running out.

Passengers finally noticed him; they shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

What was this young man doing?

What was he up to?

He stood up.

No, no, no, he can’t be, he can’t be.

Surely somebody will do something?

Stop him?

They sat, watched, nobody acted but the young man.

Then

It happened.

An explosion.

Not in our town?

Surely not in our town?

A defining moment that would change the town forever.

Nothing could ever be the same again.

The young man stepped off the bus.

Carrying with him the battered remains of his iphone.

Destroyed, never to be used again.

He dropped it in a bin.

It was easier than he had thought.

His mind now free, he had acted, and done what had to be done.

He walked to the library.

Smiling.

Picked up a book.

And started to read.


Artwork in story is 'New World Order' by the brilliant theKinhe on deviant art. Check him out here:
http://www.deviantart.com/art/New-World-Order-175230007