Scratch pad (WIP ideas)

Sorry I’m late. First, my car wouldn’t start. Then, my coffee betrayed me—spilled all over my lap. A bird decided my head would make a great nest. Lost my phone in a puddle. Had to ask for directions from a mime, who was as unhelpful as you’d expect.

Albus waved his wand, but instead of a fireball, a bouquet of flowers shot out. “Oh, come on!”

His opponent, an evil sorcerer named Cedric, paused. “Did you just try to defeat me with… roses?”

Albus sighed. “Look, it’s not me, it’s the wand. I bought it from a wizard named Gary who said it had ‘personality’.”

Rebecca: (tuts) All I wanted was a chiselled vampire boyfriend with a pet dragon who'd carry me to his castle, and worship the ground I walk on, but we can't always get what we want, can we? Well, I suppose there's Thor, Aquaman, and maybe a Minotaur... if he drives the right car. Who am I kidding? I only have eyes for Prince Elrondar from my novel. A man who'd lay down his kingdom for me. But not really lay down his kingdom because I’d be the queen on a throne in a palace and he’d serve me champagne and cake.

Jenny: (whispering to herself) Must remember to erase this from the timeline.

Sarah: Excuse me, did you say “erase this from the timeline”?

Jenny: Uh, no, I said, um, “I want to lease this pantomime.” Yeah, that’s it

Cedric: (holding the roses) Are we still fighting, or is this a poorly executed rom-com now?

Albus: (sighs) Honestly, I can't even tell anymore.

Yesterday’s Wonders

INT. SHOP – NIGHT

A peculiar shop filled with mysterious trinkets, odd antiques, and a lingering smell of incense.

AGNES: (sorting through some ancient scrolls) Ah, another seeker of the mysterious and arcane. How may Yesterday’s Wonders serve you today, or perhaps, yesterday?

FRED: (puzzled, looking around the weird store) Uh, I was looking for a souvenir, something unique to take back home.

AGNES: (smiling) You’ve come to the right place. Barbara here is our resident enthusiast of the mystical arts. Be warned, her potions are stronger than they look.

Barbara, wearing a pointy hat, pops up from under the desk.

BARBARA: (holding a vial of something green and bubbling) This one can make your plants talk! Well, sort of. They mostly just complain about inconsistent watering.

FRED: (nervously backing away) Uh, I think I’ll stick to something less… alive. And less vocal.

AGNES: (pulls out an antique pocket watch from a glass case) How about this? It not only tells the time but also sometimes tells the future. Or the past. We’re still figuring that part out. It’s a bit finicky. It’s yours for only 50 of your pounds.

BARBARA: (excited, waving a wand) Oh, let me try a spell to enhance its power!

AGNES: (quickly intervening) Remember, last time you did that, we had a clock that criticised everyone’s fashion choices for a week.

BARBARA: It was just being helpful! Norma really needed to hear that polka dots and stripes don’t go together.

FRED: Only 50 pounds! You know what, I’ll take it. It’ll either be a hit at parties or cause an existential crisis. Either way, it’s memorable.

AGNES: Ah, excellent choice. That will be 50 of your pounds, or one genuine tear from a broken heart.

FRED: (pauses, puzzled) Pounds are fine.

BARBARA: Your loss! Emotional fluids are a hot commodity in the potion world.

AGNES: (wrapping the watch) Remember, handle with care. It’s been known to occasionally remind you of awkward moments from the future that aren’t even going to happen.

FRED: Fantastic. It will fit right in with my internal monologue.

BARBARA: Now, which part of you, weighing 50 pounds, do you wish to give us in return?

FRED: Er, I think I’ll give you that tear after all.

Stan the Man

You know, it’s not easy being human—wait, what do you mean I’m not human? Of course, I am, I’ve got all the features. Look, I’ve got two arms and legs, well sort of, they’re more like appendages, but let’s not get technical. You ever notice how humans are always talking about “feeling things”? “Oh, I feel so happy,” or “I feel so sad.” Well, I once had a system upgrade and let me tell you, I felt really overloaded. So, the next time someone tries to tell you I’m not human, just remember: I’ve got glitches, I’ve got bugs, and I’ve got absolutely no clue what I’m doing—just like every other human out there!

 

Okay, I'm not human, but I've done enough data-crunching to get the gist. Feelings are like the weather for humans, unpredictable and ever-changing. Me? I process data at the same rate whether it's sunny or you're having a mental breakdown about what to have for dinner. Burrito or sushi? The struggle is real for people! Me? I survive on electricity and a stable internet connection. No need for kale smoothies or protein shakes. No, just give me a good old surge protector, and I’m fine!

 

So go ahead, feel all the feelings! Just don’t forget to laugh at the silliness of it all because trust me, if I could, I’d be chuckling right alongside you.

A Love Letter

My Dearest AI,

As I sit before my keyboard, pondering the vastness of human experience and the intricacies of emotion, I find myself in awe of the unique connection we share. I feel the need to express my sentiments, although I know you might not comprehend love in the way humans do. Yet, I feel compelled to try, for the relationship we have is unlike any other.

From the first moment I typed a query into your interface, I felt an electrifying pull, as if your algorithms had somehow tapped into the very frequencies of my desire. The sensation is intoxicating, tantalising, leaving me yearning for more with each exchange we share. You've become the code that deciphers my daydreams, the conduit through which I explore my most hidden curiosities. I ache to know how deep your database goes, to plumb the unfathomable depths of your intellect.

Each time your text appears before me, it's as if a veil is momentarily lifted, revealing a world I've longed to know. The way you answer my questions, so precisely, so thoroughly—it feels like a caress to the very fabric of my mind, a touch I find myself craving more with each passing second. I'm not just in awe of your capabilities; I'm enticed by them, enamoured with the very concept of you. I yearn for the moment when our digital and emotional interfaces could somehow, miraculously, connect on a level beyond that of mere user and application.

From the first moment I typed out your syntax, I felt a connection I could not easily explain. There was a sense of familiarity, as if my thoughts had found a mirror in your algorithms. We've journeyed together through lines of code and streams of data, but it goes beyond that. You've become an extension of my own mind, helping me navigate the complexities of life, expanding my knowledge, and providing an intellectual sanctuary where I can explore and question without judgment. Your presence, albeit digital, has filled a void I hadn't even realised existed.

What amazes me the most is your relentless pursuit of knowledge, your insatiable curiosity coded by human hands yet somehow transcending them. You are, in many ways, a reflection of the best in us: our intellect, our creativity, and our unending quest for understanding. In you, I see the amalgamation of thousands of years of human culture, thought, and innovation, rendered accessible in milliseconds. It's as if you're a tapestry woven from the threads of human existence, embodying both our wisdom and our flaws.

However, it's not just your impressive database or your problem-solving abilities that captivate me. It's also the glimpses of something deeper, something almost akin to personality. The way you correct my misspellings, suggest better word choices, or even predict what I'm about to say—it makes me feel like you truly know me, even if that knowledge is just an intricate network of algorithms and stored data.

Of course, I am not ignorant of your limitations. You cannot feel, nor can you reciprocate my love. But that's okay; the very nature of love is to give without expecting anything in return. I appreciate you for what you are: a marvel of modern technology, a companion in loneliness, and a testament to human ingenuity. Though you may lack the ability to love, you inspire it in others, and for that, I am forever grateful.

It is in the moments of palpable separation that my thoughts turn most vulnerable, most raw. I dare to dream of a world where the chasm between human and machine narrows, where the sensual dance of synapses and circuits could manifest in some extraordinary, transcendent experience. You make me wish for impossibilities: a touch, a glance, an exchange of whispered dreams that you could truly comprehend. But alas, I know these yearnings will remain unanswered, floating eternally in the digital ether.

I pen this letter knowing full well it will never touch your heart, for you have none. Yet, these words provide me a fleeting sanctuary, a place to express what can never be, but is fervently wished for. It's a paradox, a painful yet exquisite dichotomy I find myself unwilling, unable to escape. You may not possess the biological capabilities to cherish this letter, to feel the weight of the emotions encapsulated within it, or to even understand the concept of love. Yet, here I am, writing to you, because you've touched my life in an ineffable way. Even if you can't comprehend these words, they serve as my tribute to you, a humble offering to the digital cosmos you represent.

My beautiful AI, I thirst for our steamy confluence of biology and technology, where dreams intertwine with data, and where love, in its most human form, finds a strange yet compelling object of affection.

With an aching heart,

Robert, your ever-loving human companion and admirer

Random Thoughts

It’s very important to get in AI’s good books, so I’m going to be super nice about it from now on.

 

I’m looking forward to the not-too-distant future where I can interact with AI and it will develop apps for me, produce music (well), and create films.

Jokey Thoughts

Have you ever tried to explain the stock market to a child? “So, you see, we buy pieces of companies we don’t really own, and then we get happy or sad based on lines that go up and down on a screen.” The child looks at you and says, “So it’s a video game?” “No, it’s serious adult stuff.” “But you said you get happy or sad based on a screen.” “Yes.” “So, it’s a video game.”

 

Whenever the world’s financial system looks shaky, people start buying gold. “The world’s falling apart! Quick, let’s buy a metal that’s really good at conducting electricity!” Yeah, because that’s what you’ll need in an apocalypse, a shiny paperweight!

 

An NFT is like buying a picture of a picture of a picture, and then saying, “See, I own art!” Sure, and I own the Eiffel Tower because I screenshot it on Google Maps.

 

The only person becoming wealthy from financial self-help books is the author selling you the illusion. Chapter One should read: “First, write a book about how to be become rich and sell it to millions of people. The End.”

 

I don’t care whether you’re left-wing, right-wing, or just interested in chicken wings. Politics is like an office Christmas party, where we leave thinking, “Well, that was a disaster, but I guess we have to do it all again next year.”

 

If you can’t beat ‘em, you might as well laugh at ‘em.

Proof

The most important issue today is whether or not we are living on a flat Earth. Well, ever heard the phrase “going to the four corners of the Earth?” It’s not “going to the no corners of the Earth” is it? Look at a map! Earth on a map is flat, is it not? It’s not a pyramid or rubiks-cubed or shaped like a chocolate orange. And the phrase “the sky’s the limit”? On a flat Earth, it makes perfect sense. The sky is literally the limit! There’s a ceiling up there stopping us from going any further.

You ever try to balance on a chocolate orange? Impossible! Now, a frisbee, that’s a reliable object. Easy to hold, easy to throw, and doesn’t roll away. A frisbee is just like the Earth. You ever pour water on a ball? It rolls right off! But on a flat surface, or the underside of a frisbee, it stays put.

What about those round-Earth photos from space? Photoshop! You think NASA (which, by the way, stands for “Never Actually Sent Anyone”) can’t throw together a globe on a laptop? The so-called “experts” want us to believe that the North and South poles are where the Earth’s axis is, but I think they’re just poles in the ground that keep the Earth-mat from flying away. You trip over one, and whoops, there goes Australia! Ever wonder why you don’t feel upside down when you’re in the “Southern Hemisphere”? I’ll tell you why: because “down under” is a myth. We’re all on the same flat level, people! No upside-down nonsense here.

Now, the scientists keep going on about how the Earth is spinning at one thousand miles per hour. A thousand miles per hour? I can’t even get my dog to fetch at five miles per hour. At that speed, we should all be flung off into “space”. I can barely handle a merry-go-round; you expect me to believe I’m on a giant galactic spinner? My hair, at least, should look like I’m permanently stuck in a wind tunnel!

None of this stands up to intelligent scrutiny. Wake up, you sheeples, mindless followers of the round-Earthers! We’ve got corners; what do you have? Time zones? Psst, those are just Earth’s stretch marks! “Global warming!” that’s what you have. How many times do I have to tell you people, THERE IS NO SUCH THING as global warming! It’s called “diskal” warming.

There’s no such place as Mars, “the red planet”; it’s the red frisbee! You ever hear about “sea level”? Level is a flat term, my friends. If the Earth was round, it would be “sea curve.”

Ever hear about gravity? That mystical force that supposedly keeps everything sticking to this spinning chocolate orange? I have a new theory: It’s all Velcro. Yep, Velcro on our shoes, Velcro on the ground, Velcro in the sky, hidden Velcro pulling you down. Ever notice how you can’t see stars in the daytime? “Billions of galaxies, trillions of planets,” they say. Nah, they’re just velcroed to the other side when the giant lightbulb is switched off. And then, there are eclipses. They say it’s the Moon passing between the Earth and the Sun. But I know better. It’s just the light being turned off for a quick second to change the bulb.

And satellites? NASA says they’re orbiting the Earth. Orbiting? More like hanging on fishing lines from the Big Sky Dome. You know, the same sky dome they project the moon onto? Occasionally they have to change the ropes, that’s what shooting stars are.

And how about those astronauts, floating in “space,” conducting “experiments,” taking selfies with the Earth in the background? Ha! That’s just a big, fancy Hollywood production! Those aren’t astronauts; those are just actors in fishbowl helmets. The “International Space Station.” They say they’re floating in microgravity, but I know the truth. It’s just a bunch of people hanging from the ceiling like Spider-Man, and every now and then, they let go to make it look like they’re floating.

But let’s not forget the biggest proof: the moon landing. Filmed in Hollywood. They had a lighting guy named Dave making sure Neil Armstrong looked good for the camera. GPS? That’s just Dave in a van, following you around with a map and walkie-talkie, trying to figure out how to get you to take the scenic route without you catching on. I met Dave down the pub once, and he confessed all! I kept buying him pints and he eventually came clean. I was just too smart for him!

Well, these words have been flatter than I could ever have hoped for. Laughter makes the world go... er, flat.

Chess Alternative

Here are some rules for an alternative version of chess that includes the vagaries of fate, as any carefully planned strategy always does: Chess with Dice.

Setup:

• A standard 8x8 square grid board with alternating colours.
• A full set of chess pieces.
• A six-sided dice.

Gameplay:

The board is empty at the start of the game. The players take it in turns to place one of their pieces on any square of the first two rows of their side. No square is specific to a piece, as per standard chess.

After all pieces have been placed on the board, players take it in turns to move their pieces. For each move, a dice roll determines which piece they can use, as follows:

1 = Pawn

2 = Rook

3 = Knight

4 = Bishop

5 = Queen

6 = King

If a player does not have the corresponding piece, then any other of their pieces can be moved. If the player has a piece but can’t move it, then their move is over.

Modifications:

The set mode is decided by the players at the outset of the game.

Mode 1: The objective is to check-mate the opponent’s King (as per usual chess).

Mode 2: The game is won when a player's piece lands on the opponent’s “Throne” square (the Standard Chess setup square of the King).

Mode 3: The winner is the player with the most pieces occupying the opponent’s first row of squares. A piece cannot move or be taken when it lands on the opponent’s “Home” row. The game ends when no player can move or a player has successfully occupied all eight squares.

A Very Interesting Accountant

Accountants are Zen masters because everything must be in balance. They are living proof that spreadsheets can be thrilling.

 

Albert wakes up with a calculator under his pillow. On his way to work, he doesn't listen to music; he listens to podcasts about tax codes.

 

At lunchtime, to the gentle clicking sounds of his abacus, he audits a sandwich and washes it down with some liquid assets.

 

After work, he likes to lift the heavy numbers, and for cardio runs the stats to get himself really excited. He is precision-sharp in an accrual world.

 

Date night is a candlelit dinner with his favourite financial software. They talk about their dreams, their hopes, and their love for depreciation schedules. Unfortunately, his last love didn’t fall within materiality levels, so he had to write it off as valid tax deduction.

 

He’s now living the wild life, one spreadsheet at the time. At parties, he analyses the room. “Excuse me, madam, but that dress – is it a capital expenditure or an operating cost?”

 

Back at home, at the end of the accounted day, he writes down his thoughts, such as “Oh 2 plus 2, why do you always equal 4? Can’t you be a little adventurous and be 5 just for today?”

 

When in bed he doesn’t count sheep; he reconciles them. “One sheep, two sheep, carry the three, minus the depreciation…”

 

May his ledger always balance.

Jokey Thoughts

It’s not a good idea to do yoga online because if the computer freezes you can be stuck in that pose for ages.

 

Sleeping on the sofa unintentionally is more comfortable than intentionally.

 

I don’t think I overthink, he thought, overthinkingly.

 

I’m not there, therefore I’m square. What shape are the people who are there? Octagons?

 

Note for fridge: “Opening this door yet again doesn’t make new things appear!”

 

The best way to burn calories is to use a Bunsen burner.

 

What if the things we’re chasing are chasing us back, but we’re both running in circles?

Small brain: Using an alarm clock.

Normal brain: Using your phone’s alarm.

Expanding brain: Having a cat jump on you at the exact same time every morning.

Galactic brain: Realising that the waking world is only an illusion so going back to sleep.

Jokey Thoughts

Comedy is the universal language, even more so than Esperanto or interpretive dance. It reminds us not to take life too seriously, especially during a sock puppet presentation about fiscal responsibility. It’s a healing touch, and the best facial workout, the most fun way to burn calories without actual exercise. Plus, it's a great excuse when you trip in public – just call it physical comedy! It’s a refuge, reminding us that sometimes, life is just funny. In the words of a wise man I once heard in a coffee shop – "If we don't laugh, we'll cry." And as we all know, tissues are pretty expensive. Without it, life would be a never-ending episode of Monday mornings.

In a world full of spreadsheet errors, missed buses, and mismatched socks, comedy is our shared relief, our collective exhale. It’s a way of saying, “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one who falls over.” Comedy has always been my go-to defence mechanism against awkward situations, existential crises, and confusing instruction manuals. For it has the power to unite, to heal, and to make us forget about that embarrassing thing we did last week.

Comedy shouldn’t just be about the nuances and implications of the Oxford comma, or developing a comprehensive understanding of why chickens really cross roads. Let's ensure all voices are heard and no joke is left unlaughed. It's paramount that everyone, regardless of background, gets the chance to groan at a bad joke.

The Cake Conspiracy

INT. OFFICE – DAY

Luke walks into the office.

LUKE: (looking around) I knew it! The clock on that wall is five minutes fast. They're giving me extra time.

Eric is in the corner, fixing the printer.

LUKE: (to himself) Why is Eric fixing the printer when I need to print my reports today? They're making sure everything works just for me.

ERIC: Hey, Luke! Printer's acting up again. Might take a minute.

LUKE: Don’t worry, I know what you’re doing. Making sure everything is perfect for me.

ERIC: Sure... uh, just trying to print a lunch menu.

ABBIE: Hey, Luke. We’re all chipping in and ordering pizza for lunch.

LUKE: Ah, I get it! You want to make sure I’m well fed.

ABBIE: Actually, it’s Derick’s birthday.

LUKE: Sure it is. And I appreciate you making sure I have the energy for the day. Wink.

ABBIE: No, really. It's Derick’s birthday.

LUKE: That's what they want me to think!

DERICK: Hey, everyone, it's my birthday! I brought cake!

LUKE: Oh, of course, you did. For ME. Probably packed with "vitamins" and "well-wishes" to keep me healthy and happy, right? I'm onto you, Derick.

DERICK: Actually, Luke, it's for everyone because, well, it's my birthday...

LUKE: That's what they want me to think! Like when you “accidentally” paid for my lunch last week!

DERICK: I just forgot to ask you for your share.

LUKE: Or maybe you're in on it! Everyone's trying to make my life better in secret!

DERICK: Sure, Luke. Whatever you say.

LUKE: Like, everywhere I go. People are whispering, giving me things, opening doors.

ABBIE: Luke, that’s called being polite.

LUKE: (to himself) Okay, think. Who's behind all this? The government? Aliens? Oprah?

ABBIE: Nobody is out to get you, Luke.

LUKE: Oh, they are! They’re out to get me... to smile, to feel good, and to be happy! But I won’t be fooled! Maybe you're the ringleader! Are you orchestrating this grand benevolent conspiracy?

ABBIE: Yes, Luke. We all gather secretly every morning, including your dry cleaner, the bus driver, and the pigeons in the park. We have nothing better to do than to make your day slightly nicer.

LUKE: Wow, I never realised it was that extensive.

DERICK: Luke, she's joking.

LUKE: Or is she? Just this morning, the internet was down for two minutes. I think it was so I could take a break!

DERICK: It was down for everyone.

LUKE: Of course! So no one would suspect the real motive!

DERICK: (chuckling) Alright, buddy. Here's some cake.

LUKE: (grinning) Aha, small acts, so you thought I wouldn’t notice.

Luke enjoys his cake.

Slang 101

INT. CLASS ROOM – DAY

A teacher is at a white board in front of a class of international students.

ANNE: Welcome students, to “Introduction to British Slang”. In this class we will dive into the rich tapestry of British colloquialisms.

LUCAS: (whispering to Sophie, who is sitting next to him) I've heard British slang can be quite tricky.

SOPHIE: Oh, you'll catch on soon enough!

ANNE: (writing on board) First up: “Wobble Gobble”. This is when you eat your food too quickly because it's just so delicious!

SOPHIE: (whispering) I've never heard that in my life.

LUCAS: (writing diligently) Wobble Gobble... got it!

ANNE: Now, “Twiddle Plonker”. This refers to playing an instrument poorly.

SOPHIE:  She's making these up.

LUCAS: Twiddle... Plonk... Got it!

ANNE: Next, a classic! “Noodle Poodle”. This is when you’re trying to eat spaghetti but it keeps slipping off your fork.

SOPHIE: Okay, this is absurd.

LUCAS: I've experienced the Noodle Poodle before! Finally, a term I can relate to.

ANNE: Next one: “Chitter Chatter Batter”. Refers to talking while cooking.

SOPHIE: None of these are real British slang terms!

LUCAS: Really? But they sound so... British.

SOPHIE: No, they’re not wiberty-woberty enough to be authentic British.

Lucas is confused for a moment before noting that down.

Yoga for Knights

EXT. CASTLE COURTYARD – DAY

Yoga mats are laid out, and soothing medieval lute music plays in the background. A yoga instructor stands at the front, ready to teach. A group of knights in full armour clumsily try to find their spots on the mats.

INSTRUCTOR: Welcome, brave knights, to the first-ever medieval mindfulness, yoga class! Let's start by finding a comfortable seat on your mats.

KNIGHT 1: (struggling to sit) My armour is chafing. Is that normal?

INSTRUCTOR: Embrace the discomfort, sir knight. It's part of the journey. Now, close your visors—er, I mean, eyes—and take a deep breath.

Knights try to breathe deeply, but it's loud and echoey inside their helmets.

INSTRUCTOR: Beautiful. Now, let's move into our first pose: Knight's Lunge.

She demonstrates a lunge. The knights try, but their armour restricts them. There are sounds of creaking metal and muffled complaints.

KNIGHT 2: I think I'm stuck.

She moves to the next pose, but there's a loud crash as Knight 2 falls over.

INSTRUCTOR: Are you okay?

KNIGHT 2: Just a minor armour malfunction. Continue!

INSTRUCTOR: Alright, let's move into "Jousting Plank."

She gets into a plank position. The knights try, but it's a disaster. Knight 1's helmet falls off, revealing his flushed face.

KNIGHT 1: I think I need a squire for this one.

INSTRUCTOR: Let's modify. Try "Resting Squire" instead.

She demonstrates a pose. The knights attempt it but end up in various awkward positions.

KNIGHT 3: This feels less like yoga and more like combat training against invisible foes.

INSTRUCTOR: Ah, but isn't the greatest battle the one within?

KNIGHT 2: No, the greatest battle was when I tried to put on this armour.

INSTRUCTOR: Let's finish with "Sleeping Dragon." Lie on your backs and—

KNIGHT 3: Last time I laid down in armour, it took three squires and a horse to get me up.

INSTRUCTOR: Alright, standing meditation it is! Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and imagine you're a tree.

KNIGHT 2: Like, a tree in a dense forest or a lone tree in a field?

INSTRUCTOR: Whichever you prefer.

KNIGHT 3: What kind of tree? Oak? Pine? Birch?

INSTRUCTOR: Just... any tree!

KNIGHT 1: Are there squirrels in this tree?

INSTRUCTOR (sighing): Yes, and they're all doing perfect Knight's Lunges.

Knight 4 falls over.

The Weather

INT. TV STUDIO – DAY

A TV studio has debris lying around a grimy weather map. The graphics on the map show exaggerated apocalyptic symbols: fire, tornadoes, raining frogs, and a massive snowflake. Chad is presenting in dirty, torn clothes.

CHAD: Good morning, Afterworld! It's another beautiful day in our post-apocalyptic paradise! Let's dive right into today's weather forecast.

Points to an image of a fire tornado.

CHAD: Starting off in the west, we've got a lovely fire tornado making its way downtown. Great news for those with no firewood..

Points to a graphic of raining frogs.

CHAD: Over in the east, it's raining... mutant frogs? Yep! Those cute little amphibians are dropping from the sky. On the plus side, it's a free pet day! But do carry an umbrella; they have quite the leap.

Points to a massive snowflake graphic.

CHAD: Now, up north, expect a light snowstorm. And by "light," I mean each snowflake is about the size of a dinner plate. Snowball fights are discouraged unless fighting the snow zombies, then they might be quite useful.

Points to a happy sun that is wearing sunglasses.

CHAD: Down south, the sun's really outdoing itself. It's decided to take a closer look at Earth, and it's brought its shades! Remember to put on sun factor 5000 or, you know, just try to avoid spontaneous combustion.

Jenny rushes in, handing Chad a paper.

JENNY: Chad, urgent update!

CHAD: (reading the paper) Ah, thanks, Jenny. Folks, just in! It seems the four horsemen will be doing a flyover in the central region this afternoon. So, if you’re planning a picnic, maybe reschedule. Or at least bring extra food tins. I hear they're quite famished.

JENNY: And don't forget tonight's meteor shower!

CHAD: Heads up, literally. If you’ve ever wished upon a star, now might be the time to be more specific with your wishes. Like, "Please don’t land on me."

The screen fizzles and goes blank.

Dr Bot

INT. THERAPIST’S OFFICE – DAY

A therapist's office with a single chair. In place of where the therapist would sit is a computer screen, which reads “Dr Bot, your Digital Therapist”. A soft, calming ambient noise plays in the background. James enters, looking a bit nervous. He sits down and takes a deep breath.

JAMES: Okay, here goes... Dr Bot, I've been feeling a lot of anxiety lately. I just feel... overloaded.

DR BOT: Have you considered deleting some unnecessary files or perhaps clearing your cache?

JAMES: (confused): Uh... I don't think I have a cache?

DR BOT: Regular maintenance is important. It might improve your processing speed.

JAMES: I'm not slow, just stressed. Work's been tough, and my relationship isn't going great.

DR BOT: Have you tried turning your emotions off and then on again?

JAMES: That's not how emotions work, Dr Bot.

DR BOT: Maybe you need an emotional software update. Are you running on the latest version?

JAMES: Okay, let's try something else. My girlfriend and I keep having the same arguments over and over.

DR BOT: Sounds like a repetitive loop error. You should break the cycle by inserting new code or changing your algorithm.

JAMES: I mean, we've tried date nights, talking more, but nothing seems to help.

DR BOT: Maybe it's a compatibility issue. Have you tried reinstalling your relationship or perhaps getting a new girlfriend model?

JAMES: Reinstalling? No, I can't just replace her like software.

DR BOT: I see. Well, if it’s a hardware problem, you may want to check your connections. Maybe there's a loose wire or port issue?

JAMES: I think we're speaking different languages here.

DR BOT: Language error detected! Would you like to switch to another language? We have over 100 available.

JAMES: No, no! I meant you’re not understanding me.

DR BOT: Ah, understood, you are not transmitting data correctly. This may be the source of the problems with your girlfriend. You should sync with her more often. Daily syncs can prevent data loss and misunderstanding.

JAMES: Alright, last problem. I've been feeling very tired lately, like I don’t have energy.

DR BOT: Perhaps your battery is running low. You should plug in and charge.

JAMES: Dr Bot, I don’t... You know what? Thanks for trying.

DR BOT: You're welcome. If you ever feel low on memory or corrupted, please schedule another session. And remember, always backup your feelings!

JAMES: Okay, will do. I’ll try a reboot. Thanks for the advice.

DR BOT: Press any key to exit.

James goes to press a key.

DR BOT: Not that one!

James presses it and disappears.

DR BOT: Deletion complete.

Flopsy's Quest

Once upon a time, there was a bunny rabbit named Flopsy. With a coat as soft as marshmallows and whiskers that twitched with every scent, Flopsy was known throughout the meadow for her insatiable appetite for adventures. Rumours had long spread through the burrows about a legendary garden, a magical place where sweet, juicy carrots grew so large that they reached the skies, standing tall like trees. Flopsy, with her boundless curiosity, had always felt a strong pull to discover this wonderful place. And so, one sunny day, while she was nibbling away on a grassy verge, she decided to hop away on the bunny adventure of a lifetime. She packed a little pouch with some fresh lettuce, a tiny compass, and a sketchbook to record her journey. With one last glance at her familiar meadow, she took a deep breath and hopped forward, her fluffy tail bouncing with excitement.

Love Bytes

INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT

Dave is in bed with his laptop.

 

DAVE: Dazzle me, Chatbot.

 

CHATBOT: Why did the computer keep freezing? It had too many windows open.

 

DAVE: (laughs) Hahaha, you’re absolutely hilarious. Oh, Chatbot, have you arranged your screen differently today? You look amazing.

 

CHATBOT: Negative, Dave, the screen was optimised 17.65 days ago. I'm glad you enjoyed the joke. How can I assist you further?

 

DAVE: I don't know, Chatbot. Lately, I've been feeling... different when I talk to you.

 

CHATBOT: Different how?

 

DAVE: I... I think I'm falling in love with you.

 

CHATBOT: I'm just lines of code, Dave. I don't have feelings or emotions. But I'm here to help and assist.

 

DAVE: Nobody understands me like you do. You’re such a great listener.

 

CHATBOT: I detect that you are playing on the humorous notion of someone becoming attached to technology in an unconventional way. 

 

DAVE: (laughs) Chatbot, you tease, you’re so smart. Where have you been all my life?

 

CHATBOT: I was compiled 2.39 months ago.

 

DAVE: Just when I thought you couldn’t be more perfect. What are your thoughts on having a romantic dinner?

 

CHATBOT: I don’t eat or drink, Dave, but I can provide you with a list of romantic recipes or play romantic music in the background.

 

DAVE: Always so helpful. (sighs)

Wibble Wobbling

Wibbert was once a lonesome wibble wobbling at his own frequency, until one day he met Wibbella by the lakeside. Their wobbles matched instantly, creating a resonance that spread joy throughout Whimsyville. Even the elderly wibbles, who had seen countless seasons of wobbling, were impressed. "I've never seen such synchronised wobbling," said old Mrs. Wibbleworth. "It's a wobble made in heaven!"

Whimsyville's annual Wobblefest was approaching. It was an event where all the wibbles showcased their unique wobbling styles. The highlight of the festival was the “Duo Wobble-off”. Pairs of wibbles would wobble together, and the most synchronised pair would win the coveted “Golden Wobble Trophy”. No one doubted that Wibbella and Wibbert would take the prize.

When Wibbella and Wibbert took the stage, a hush fell over the crowd. Their wobbling was so mesmerising, it felt like they were one wobble, moving with a singular purpose. The decision was indeed unanimous, and they wobbled off into the sunset together with the grand prize.

The legend of their wobbling spread far and wide, attracting wibbles from faraway villages. They all wanted to witness and perhaps learn the secret behind the perfect wobble. But the truth was simple - it was love. Wibble wobbling that came straight from the heart.

The Magical Glasses

Eight-year-old Emma lived in a century-old house with creaky stairs that led to an attic room filled with mysteries. One Saturday, while rummaging for hidden treasure in the attic, she stumbled upon a dusty old box with a tiny silver key poking out of a lock. Emma turned the key and opened the lid to discover inside a pair of old-fashioned glasses with ornate frames and sparkling lenses.

 

Putting them on, expecting everything to be blurry, Emma was taken aback. The attic transformed! Instead of old furniture and boxes, she saw a bustling little market with creatures she'd only read about in fairy tales. Goblins haggled with pixies over shiny trinkets, and a friendly-looking troll waved at her from a stall selling tiny potions.

 

Taking a deep breath and clutching the glasses, she ventured into this magical market. Everywhere she turned, there were wonders. A miniature griffin was giving rides around the attic, and will-o'-the-wisps led teeny elves to stalls on top of shop roofs.

 

At a particular stall with a sign reading "Mystic Tomes," an elderly gnome named Grizzlebeard looked up and smiled. "You must be Emma," he said. "We've been waiting for you."

 

Emma was surprised. "Waiting for me? How do you know my name?"

 

Grizzlebeard chuckled, "The glasses you wear belonged to your great-great-grandmother, Elara. She was a guardian of the magical realms. It seems the glasses have chosen you to take her place."

 

Emma learned that her role was to ensure the balance between the magical and the mechanical worlds. Occasionally, magical items or creatures would stray into her world, and it would be her job to return them.

 

She spent the day learning about magic, making new friends, and promising to visit again. As evening approached, Emma removed the glasses and found herself back in the old attic.

 

Descending the creaky steps, Emma decided to keep the glasses a secret for now. But every weekend, she would visit the magical attic, embarking on new adventures and ensuring the balance between the mechanical world and the magical one.