LitWit Challenge 2.11: The Squid is the Whale.
Here is a photo of our friend Uro with the 9 kilogram squid he found in Laiya, San Juan, Batangas last week.
Your LitWit Challenge for this week: Write a story (maximum 1,000 words) based on this photo. What story can you glean from this photo? Don’t be too literal: I don’t want to read any stories about a guy who catches a 9 kg squid. We’ll take all genres: horror, thriller, SF, whatever you feel like.
Your deadline: 11.59 pm on Saturday, May 15.
The prize:
The Weekly LitWit Challenge is brought to you by the lovely people of National Bookstore.
Answers to questions you might be asking, unless you wandered onto this site purely by accident >>>
May 12th, 2010 at 23:48
What???!!! No stories??? Where are the stories????
May 13th, 2010 at 12:59
This NatGeo article might help those who want to join the contest:
“Colossal Squid a Soft, Sluggish Drifter”
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2010/05/100512-science-animals-colossal-squid-sea-monster/
May 13th, 2010 at 21:52
There was once this horse who died and went to that big green pasture in horse heaven. His name’s Galloping Poser, and he was receiving judgment from the Guardian of the Pearly Fences. Here’s what happened:
Loud and Booming Voice: Galloping Poser, we have been monitoring your activities, and you have been a very very wicked horse indeed. You have an ego that’s more than enough for a population, you make fun of people more educated than you are, and you associate with good looking people because you’re hoping that their cool will be transferred to you in one way or another. You use people, and that’s not something characteristic of a God fearing horse.
Loud and Booming Voice: As punishment, you will be forced to be reborn as a human being. You will reincarnate in the Philippines where you will be living a lifetime of bad acting. In ABS CBN.
Loud and Booming Voice: You will be sweating blood in your futile attempts at success, but your efforts shall all be in vain since we will not be giving you any talents worth noticing. None at all. What you can call redemption shall surface in the form of your onscreen love interest and your backup dancers, but you shall have nothing with which to shine on your lonesome. You will be devoid and bereft of any bankable skills. You will be a handicap, and you will be nothing without your onscreen love interest and your backup dancers. Save maybe for some skills in social climbing and faking and macho posturing, you will still be leading a hopeless career in Philippine show business.
Loud and Booming Voice: You will break in to the entertainment industry not because of anything that’s worth counting like your features maybe or your talents. Like I mentioned, you shall be stripped bare of these luxuries at birth. You will be galloping in a race, in a contest that seeks to discover badly dressed talents that will add to ABS CBN’s circus of already badly dressed talents. You will win, but don’t count that as good fortune. That is but part of this grand plan to wreck you. We will expose your shitty horseness to the heavily criticizing public.
Loud and Booming Voice: You will retain your features as a horse in a man’s body, and your name will be Joross Gamboa.
A defeated neigh issues from Galloping Poser’s general direction. It intensifies into a tremendous shrill, lasts for no more than ten seconds, and then terminates into a series of humiliated sobs. Loud and Booming Voice allows for a few more seconds of silence, for effect, and then proceeds, the delight in his baritone now more distinct as he delivers this Galloping Poser to his favorite kind of hell.
Loud and Booming Voice: And it’s not enough that you will become Joross Gamboa. Far from it. Let me give you an idea as to how your life in show business will proceed. And I’ve prepared the perfect sarcasm that will answer for this purpose. Now feast your eyes on this picture. It’s the carcass of a squid, an invertebrate, spineless as your kind goes. And this sore little thing will be your career after it has peaked. Which will be about two days following your introduction as an ABS CBN talent. Trust me on this, I’m the second most omnipotent thing in these places.
Loud and Booming Voice: Now get yourself scarce, and get to it, because my judgment leaves no room for amendment. It is unprofitable to tarry here; Channel Two is waiting. Begone and be prompt about it. You are going to hell in a hand basket. But it’s not much of a hand basket as it’s a, and I quote, a “talent” center. I reckon they use the term loosely, on account of an amendment’s pretty much in order. I suppose “no talent” will answer nicely, for sure, and you will be in its ranks.
May 14th, 2010 at 01:11
She loathed it, of course, every single time: going down, her hands on his chest like a rope tied to the boat that keeps her alive, her salvation ready to tug her afloat. She takes a dive and she feels the rush of darkness, and from there she gets deeper into the abyss, the absolute zero of light, where her soul squirms as the pressure walls around her.
She shuts her eyes and her fingers grasp the monster, the creature awaiting for her once more, its head bobbing in defiance. She can feel its slime, and its putrid stench attacks her like a multitude of tentacles that crawl inside her nose.
But she forgets this for the moment. Because for now she is caught in the frenzy of the chase, her whole being resolute and ready for the kill. The monster stabs her throat and she feels bile and tonight’s dinner rising from her innermost, yet she bears the pain, as her tears well up at the corner of her eyes, only wishing it stopped soon, and when she could bear no longer the guttural sounds from his lips calls her name from above — baby, baby, baby, I love you baby — and in seconds she feels the monster die.
She swims to the surface, welcomed by his kisses. She, the victorious, runs to the bathroom to spit the blood of the vanquished, nagged by the thought of when her turn would finally come, when she would be the one waiting for him at the surface, waiting for him as he dives to kill her monster aching to die for him.
May 14th, 2010 at 13:45
Momelia – “a defeated neigh” made me laugh out loud in the office. Thank you!
May 15th, 2010 at 04:02
@Momelia – Natawa rin ako dun sa defeated neigh na yun. Napatingin tuloy sa akin yung kasama ko dito sa office. Akala niya siguro natuluyan na ako. Akala ko talaga ang idedescribe mo si Big Mouth sa Pinoy’s Got Talent.
Mamaya ko isasubmit ang entry ko para dito. Natapos ko na yun 3 days ago. Di ko lang mapost kasi feeling ko sobrang graphic.
May 15th, 2010 at 04:22
I have noticed errors in my entry. Mea maxima culpa. I am resubmitting.
_________________________________________________________
She loathed it, of course, every single time: going down, her hand on his chest like a rope tied to the boat that keeps her alive — her salvation ready to tug her afloat. She takes a dive and she feels the rush of darkness, and from there she gets deeper into the abyss, the absolute zero of light, where her soul squirms as the pressure walls around her.
She shuts her eyes and her fingers grasp the monster, the creature awaiting for her once more, resurrected, its head bobbing in defiance. She can feel its slime, and its putrid stench attacks her like a multitude of tentacles that crawl inside her nose.
But she forgets this for the moment. Because for now she is caught in the frenzy of the chase, her whole being resolute and ready for the kill. The monster stabs her throat and she feels bile and tonight’s dinner rising from her innermost, yet she bears the pain, as her tears well up at the corner of her eyes, her only wish that it stopped soon, and when she could bear no longer the guttural sounds from his lips call her name from above — baby, baby, baby, I love you baby — and in seconds she feels the monster die.
She swims to the surface, welcomed by his kisses. She, the victorious, runs to the bathroom to spit the blood of the vanquished, nagged by the thought of when her turn would finally come, when she would be the one waiting for him at the surface, waiting for him as he dives to kill her monster aching to die for him.
May 15th, 2010 at 09:45
Evan: Giant squid erotica! I love it.
*****
Carlitos Calamari knew that only thing worse than being the biggest boy in school was the teasing that came along with the fact.
Every day brought about a new nickname: tabachoy, dambuhala, lumba-lumba… and that was just in his Filipino class alone. English class was no better; all his classmates had to do was add the longest synonyms for “huge” to all the names that they’d hatched up in Filipino. The less said about his science and math classes, the better.
PE, however, was the worst class of all. He was always mocked for his size by the lean, sleek cephalopods who always ruled the pack in school. His awkward swimming always brought out the comparisons to the same sea creatures that inspired the nicknames from his language classes. Even the teachers were quick to tell him that his swimming left much to be desired.
Whenever Carlitos told his mother about the teasing, she always reminded him that his size has given him a thicker mantle, the better to defend himself from attacks. But Carlitos was quick to remind her that he was an invertebrate by nature, and thus ill-equipped for survival in the rough seas.
Finally, Mrs. Calamari threw her hands up in the air.
“Carlitos,” she said, “you are big enough to defend yourself, but there is only so much I can do for you. From now on, you are on your own.”
These words stung Carlitos like a fish hook. Dejected, he swum away from his home – away from his mother’s grasp and the mocking of his peers… and towards the light that shone through the darkness of the depths – the light that only a few of his kind had lived long enough to see…
May 15th, 2010 at 21:16
Looking at that squid and reading the challenge, this story is the first thing I have thought of.
~~~~~~~
I always hear it.
“You’re blue blooded that’s why.” And then they snicker. Not really a good thing, especially if you just want to belong and be accepted.
“Are you like an Atenean? They like call themselves the Blue Eagles. You might get in, like you know.” Ahh, if he was being sarcastic or whatever, I don’t get it. I’m not used to it. He must’ve hinted it to fully achieve the effect he intended.
My turn to approach. There’s a girl in a blonde wig, wearing the solar system around her, and sporting Mickey Mouse sunglasses. I think she’s a Disney person, this could work! “Hi! Are you a fan of Blue’s Clues? I’m — ” She didn’t let me finish and as she eyed me from head to toe, “Err, are you a cosplayer or something? Do I like a huge freaking fan of Blue’s freaking Clues?! Go away!”
I walk far, deeply hurt. Even if I’m used to it, it really hurts every time, feels brand new. She could’ve answered a simple, “No. I want to be a Fame Monster,” and it would suffice. My lachrymal duct swelled. I snorted. Some mucus fell from my nose. “Whadda?! I hate this life!!! Whyyyyy?!?!?!”
I was crying my eyes out. I didn’t mind wiping my tears. Who would care? Tears fell from my face and dropped on the withered flower stuck in the sidewalk crack. It went back into life. It’s beautiful, I was about to pick it up, “Hey, flower. We could be good friends. I’m really desperate, you know.” And when I stooped down to get it, some adrenaline junkie jogging around didn’t notice me and accidentally stepped on my newly found friend. Dead flower. I haven’t even touched it. I sobbed again and looked at the moon. A blue moon. Gee, thanks, cosmos. I get the message.
My real friends, they’re out there. How I wish I haven’t left them. I have lowered my expectations for everyone but to not really be disappointed means I must not care. The sad part is that I care and I can’t stop thinking of what they think of me. I just want to be able to see my biological family and be with them family again.
Freak. I’ve heard of this a lot. I typed in “define: freak” in Google’s search bar. I know how these computers work, dad taught me how to use one. I was born in the information age, an age of computers and the Internet and claimed progress, but really, no one has changed. People still judge one another like it’s the only thing that matters. Me breathing, walking, or even just sitting down is like exposing myself to a world of judgmental people. There, search result says a freak is a person or animal that is markedly unusual or deformed. Ouch.
I left my true friends in search of paradise. What I found are people who think of themselves so highly statues must be built for them.
“FU, haters. When more glaciers melt, and you all lose your freshwater, I swear you will be wishing you’re one of us. Or become someone like me. Freak. Unusual. Still, a person.”
And then I heard them calling me again. The sound of family, of friendship, of acceptance.
“Hey, Agua! Agua! Hey!” I looked back and searched for those familiar voices.
So maybe that’s why I’m blue – I’m sad. I rushed into the ocean and my appearance changed. I’m not blue anymore. I smiled at them. I’m not sad anymore. I’m healing. My friends, they called out to me again.
“Agua! Where have you been? Cala and Mares have been looking for you! We miss you like crazy!”
Indeed. This is where I belong. No place like home.
*Cue music: Malayo paaa ang umaaaaagaaaaaa…..*
May 15th, 2010 at 22:12
When Jenny told her ex-husband that she could never reconcile with him because she was living with a squid, her ex-husband claimed he was the least surprised.
“She always complained that I never hugged her enough,” he moaned to the People’s Tonight writer to whom he exposed the affair in a last-ditch effort to win her back. “And that she never had the time to write because she was always taking care of me and the baby. Well, now, she has 10 arms to hug her, all the time in the world to write, and she has all that-that-that f-f-free ink!” he sneers, stuttering.
By the time Jenny met the squid, it was already a YouTube sensation under the title: Amphibious Squid Crosses The Streets Of Manila – 78,045,291,452 hits. The only other video that beat it was: Skeleton Jacks Off Inside Its Coffin – 63,540,443,875 hits. Three weeks after it became a viral superstar, Discovery Channel flew to Manila to make a feature on what appeared to be this rare specimen of the next stage of squid evolution.
Unfortunately, the squid disappeared. After failing to find the squid which they tried to track down in its usual haunts in the streets of Manila as reported by the cigarette vendors, the Discovery Crew flew back to the US.
The squid was hiding in Jenny’s bedroom the whole time. It was not love at first sight for Jenny who never saw the squid the first time she encountered it. Instead, she felt an invisible presence on her bed. She felt as if her feet were being sucked by a million suckers. She did nothing to stop it because it felt extremely pleasurable. This sensation went up her legs and inside her vagina. She felt as if a thousand tongues were sucking, licking, eating her vagina. One second before her orgasm, the squid gave up its camouflage and revealed itself on her bed. This moment of revelation excited Jenny so much her sheets, thoroughly soaked with her vaginal fluids, drip-flooded her floor.
“What an ugly, sexy, vicious-looking thing you are,” she cooed to the squid who by now was hugging her with its 10 arms.
It was love at first suck.
The squid was proficient at all household chores. With its 10 arms, it could hold her baby in one arm while feeding it with the other, wash the dishes with another pair of arms, hang laundry with another pair, water her garden with another pair, and suck her breasts and her vagina with the last pair – all at the same time.
This gave Jenny all the free time she ever longed for. Half of her free time was spent making love with the squid – she reveled in its too-tight, 10-armed embrace.
The other half was spent writing, or rather, dictating what she wanted to write to the squid who was very generous with its ink. It dipped its tentacle inside its own ink and wrote out Jenny’s dictations.
It was the ideal husband.
So when Jenny’s ex-husband, 12 long-stemmed roses hidden in one hand behind his back, visited her unannounced and saw the strange creature on the couch with the remote control as sports news blared on the tv, Jenny felt obliged to tell him the truth in three emotionless, terse sentences. Her husband, blinded by his tears did not even remember dropping the roses on the floor as he ran away.
Jenny’s life was perfect until the squid’s own husband appeared at Jenny’s doorstep.
At first, Jenny assumed that the newly arrived squid was her husband-squid’s own child for it was much smaller. She treated this new arrival like her own child and even allowed it to share the crib with her baby as she sang lullabies and read bed time stories to both of them. But the new squid merely glared at her with its large, resentful eyes.
One day, as her husband-squid was feeding her baby, washing the dishes, hanging the laundry, and making love to her with its eight arms, she noticed that the 5th pair of arms was not watering the garden. She quickly turned around to look for it and saw, to her horror, that the last pair of arms were hugging the smaller squid, as the smaller squid’s tentacles were inside her husband squid’s.
Strange, how one remembers information at the moment when one needs it most. For it was at that moment when she finally remembered her biology teacher telling the class that the male squid is smaller than the female. It dawned on her that the squid whom she considered to be an ideal husband was a bisexual female which made her –
“I AM NOT A LESBIAN! GET YOUR FILTHY TENTACLES OFF OF ME!” she spat-shouted at her now ex-husband squid who was too stunned not to obey quickly.
She ran to her bedroom, grabbed her gun, went back to the kitchen and gunned down both husband-squid and wife-squid.
A few hours later, her ex-husband was standing before her, holding her ex-husband-who-turned-out-to-be-a-wife-squid in his hands, asking her: “How would you like me to cook it?”
May 15th, 2010 at 23:53
Thanks stellalehua. :-)
May 16th, 2010 at 00:00
However, my story is not the literary equivalent of Hokusai’s “The Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife” — the monster was a metaphor for something else. :-)
May 16th, 2010 at 00:04
Oh well. I guess ‘tis the time of day when one has to violate himself. Here’s my entry. Enjoy!
—————–
Gusto ko raw bang magexperiment? Iyon ang tanong ni Jessie na nakaluhod sa tabi ko sabay himas ng kamay niya sa hita ko. Nabigla ako. Sino bang hindi magugulantang? Nung sinabi niya yun pakiwari ko’y umakyat ang puso ko sa ulo ko. Naririnig ang mabibigat na tibok nito. Lub-Dub. Lub-Dub. Nabibingi na ako sa lakas. Palakas ng palakas. Parang pumipintig na rin ang buong ulo ko. Kasing bilis at bigat ng paghinga ko ang tunog ng puso kong palagay ko e balot na sa sebo. Paano niya nalaman na gusto ko siya? Masyado ba akong nagpahalata? Kaibigan ko lang naman siya at yun lang naman ang pinakita ko sa kanya. Ibinabalik ko lang ang mga magagandang ginagawa niya sa akin, pero di ko alam na may ibig sabihin na pala ang mga yun. May laman. Malaman pala. Lagi kong pinipilit sa sarili ko na wala lang ang mga pag-akbay-akbay niya sa akin. Nahalata niya siguro na may pagnanasa ako sa kanya dahil kahit kailan ay mailap akong maging pisikal sa kanya. O kung hindi man yun, e baka eskaparate na ako.
Gusto kong tabigin ang kamay niya. Gusto kong sabihin sa kanya na “Tsong, wala namang ganyanan,” pero baka ito na lang ang huling pagkakataon ko. Sayang naman. Matitikman ko na rin siya sa wakas. Nagdadalawang-isip lang naman ako kasi ayokong isipin niya na bakla ako. Experiment lang naman daw e. Walang bahid malisya. Siguro, ganito talaga ito. Parte na ng pagbibinata na humaling kahit paano sa lalaki. Try lang naman daw. Walang mawawala sa aming pareho. E, sigurado sa akin meron kasi matindi na ang pagkahumaling ko sa kaibigan ko dala siguro ng taglay niyang kakisigan. Di ko na nagawang hawiin pa siya lalo na ngayon at nakaamba na ang mga labi niya sa akin. Galong-galong dugo na siguro ang naipon sa mukha ko.
Pinabayaan ko na lang siya. Pinikit ko na lang ang mga mata ko at hinintay maglapat ang mga labi namin. Dahan-dahang dumampi ang labi niya sa labi ko. Ramdam ko ang init ng hininga niya. Nakaka-paso. Kumakalat ang init niya sa buong katawan ko. Malambot ang mga labi niya. Ilang segundo pa ang lilipas siguradong magliliyab ako. Pinilit niyang pinasok ang dila niya sa loob ng mga bibig ko. Nangiwi ako ng konti pero di na inalintana. Hinayaan ko nalang maglaban ang mga dila namin. Nanlaban na ako sa tindi ng ramramdaman ko. Di ko naisip na ganito pala kasarap humalik at mahalikan ng taong matagal mo nang gusto. Hindi ko na naririnig ang mga huni ng mga kuliglig, ang marahan na ingay ng bentilador at mga nagdadaanang tricycle sa kalye. Nawawala ako sa sarili ko sa sobrang sarap ng rararamdaman ko. Inaalis niya ako sa ulirat. Masarap siyang humalik. Masarap siya.
Dinilat ko ang mga mata ko. Nagulat ako dahil wala na siya. Mabilis kong tinignan ang paligid ko. Sa kaliwa, sa kanan, ngunit wala siya. Tinakbuhan na ba niya ako? Ipagkakalat ba niya sa mga tao na pumapatol ako sa lalaki?! Tumingin ako sa kinaluluhuran niya at tumambad sa akin ang kalahating pang-ibabang katawan niya—nakaluhod pa rin. Labas ang ilang natitirang tadyang niya na nakasabit sa naputol na gulugod niya. Nakaluwa ang nagniningning niyang bituka na animo’y lumalangoy sa isang maliit na lawa ng dugo gawa ng nakalahati niyang katawan. Sa ibaba ng kanyang natirang katawan, nakahandusay ang napugot na mga braso niya. Ang mga kamay, kumikibit kibit pa.
Tinignan ko ang mga kamay ko. Nagmistula itong mga galamay ng pusit! Hindi ko na magawang mag-isip. Di ko naiiintindihan ang mga nangyayari. Sinubukan kong magsalita. Gusto kong sumigaw nang pagkalakas-lakas. Pinilit kong magsalita, ngunit nang buksan ko ang bibig ko, gumulong palabas nito ang nangingisay na pang-itaas na katawan ng kaibigan ko.
May 16th, 2010 at 13:44
Glad you liked it! @ Kurt and Iceproof
Good job to all of us!
May 16th, 2010 at 17:27
Evan (and Aseroleon too, since my mind went to the same dirty place when I read your entries): I had to Google “The Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife” out of curiosity, and… dang. Also, eeek!
May 17th, 2010 at 01:19
Tentacle porn, haha. The Japanese and their kinky quirks.