Tag Archives: couch

Journey to the Centre of the Couch, Part 16

If anything was going to explode at this point, I decided, it might as well be me. “You came all this way and got this deep into this mess, and your plan was to see what we would do?” “I … Continue reading

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Journey to the Centre of the Couch, Part 15

“So dropping this thing into our couch did something to it,” I said. “Something to keep it from going off, or even from giving off much in the way of readings, until just recently.” “Exactly.” “So now let’s backtrack to … Continue reading

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Journey to the Centre of the Couch, Part 12

“So,” I said, fighting down the increasingly-insistent feeling that I was in way more trouble than I’d initially assumed, “it’s a bomb. An alien bomb.” “Correct,” Agent Wesson replied. “And it’s going to go critical and destroy the world.” “Yes.” … Continue reading

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Journey to the Centre of the Couch, Part 11

We arrived at a clearing. Sort of. It was difficult to explain, but the support beams and springs sort of thinned out and stretched away, without actually doing any such thing, leaving a warped region that wasn’t so much empty … Continue reading

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Journey to the Centre of the Couch, Part 10

It was a singularly strange experience. It was like snorkelling in dark water, diving deep and then turning onto your back to look at the surface. I turned my face up as I climbed – although it was really more … Continue reading

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Journey to the Centre of the Couch, Part 9

And so we stood in front of the couch. I hadn’t taken as long to prepare as Creepy had, for the twofold reason of a) being reasonably sure that nothing was going to happen and I would end up knee-deep … Continue reading

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Journey to the Centre of the Couch, Part 8

Agent Wesson continued to study the couch for a long moment, then seemed to snap out of it. He turned to me. “You’re going in,” I said. “Right?” “Believe me, I’d rather not,” he replied, “but the boffins have instructed … Continue reading

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Journey to the Centre of the Couch, Part 4

Muttering to myself, I climbed to my feet and peered back into the couch. The rope, taut against the front rim of the couch with its rumpled felt foreskin, vanished into the springs and bars and seemed to be tangled … Continue reading

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Journey to the Centre of the Couch, Part 3

The couch seemed curiously resistant to flipping, and when I got down on my knees to check its stumpy wooden feet I realised why. “Who fixed these angle brackets on here?” I asked, to sound as much as possible like … Continue reading

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Journey to the Centre of the Couch, Part 1

Based on a true story. When you lose spare change down the back of the couch cushions, it’s inevitable. When you lose a remote or a jaffa or a phone, it’s sad. When you lose a house guest, it’s embarrassing. … Continue reading

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