Three Hoodies Save the World

Constant moaning and whinging about everything

Archive for the month “August, 2014”

The insurmountable problems of a secret time traveller.

This is the spur for my Old Geezers’ second trip back in time. Being chased by a giant and amorous woman has (almost) nothing to do with it.

A potential prototype for the cover.

‘Wasamatter?’ Chet grinned, ‘Your true love was just in here pining for you.’ This was one of the few things guaranteed to upset Abe. The Chief Administrator’s juvenile devotion to Abe haunted him even more than the horror they’d been through so recently. Not even his close association with the two she loathed was enough to divert the course of her love even though he’d neither initiated nor returned them with anything other than the polite resignation of a man long resigned to the folly of interpreting the mores of the opposite sex.

‘Oh give it a rest, Chet, I’m really pissed.’ He really had to be as Abe almost never swore and not even the name of his would-be lover seemed to rouse him. Amon’s eyes lit up. Someone else was going to get it instead of him for a change. It was time to join in.

‘What is it?’ Chet demanded seeing the evil glint in Amon’s rheumy eyes, while Abe’s own reddened orbs, ominously red in contrast to his pallid face, glared with futile rage.

‘I must have called the Defense Department twenty times. Even when I finally got through and played: pass-me-round-every-department-in-the-goddamn-building, all I got was some smooth talking asshole saying: “thank you, but you must understand that…” It’s driving me nuts!’ Obviously reading their blank expressions Abe erupted with increased fury, much to the consternation of a passing guest who squeaked in fright before apparently recovering enough vitality to abandon her Zimmer frame and sprint away. ‘The bomb, the damned bomb! I told them it was going to go off, but they won’t believe me.’

‘Well of course they won’t believe you.’ Chet attempted, and failed to keep the sarcasm from his voice. ‘It’s not due to go off for another ten years. What do you expect? “Yes sir, a nuclear bomb is going to go off in Mexico City in ten years – we’ll look right into it.” Look,’ he glared at Abe, ‘it’s over, finished, finito. We’re home, we’re alive. That SOB is dead. Get over it.’


Photo 365 #23: Old Friends

A cool story.

Harley’s back!!


About twelve hours after my daughter began knocking on doors and plastering photos to telegraph poles she received a call, and today we retrieved a rather abbreviated form of her cat.

Apparently he’d been stuck in one our neighbours’ many garden sheds for nearly a week. How he could possibly have survived was solved by the remnants of a pigeon which had foolishly fluttered in through a tiny skylight far above his head.

Now he’s sleeping and eating, sometimes at the same time. The vet’s given him a clear-ish bill of health but said he’s to be given as much food as he wants. And he’s going to need it – he weighs about half a pound.

I’m glad he’s back for as much as he irritates me the house wasn’t the same without him. Naturally, Sassy, our big, old and nasty cat resents having to share again but she’ll get over it. Or at least I hope she does. One swipe from her big meaty paw would finish off the little mite at the moment.

My last one ever, probably.

I finally did one more Terragen pic but this time only half of it is. The rest I did with GIMP. Which half, I won’t tell you.


We’re coming to terms with Harley the Bengal’s absence. My next door neighbour claims to have seen him a couple of days ago. Apparently another house or a possible girlfriend have more charm that us. Hmmph!!

The only person of whom Chet is truly afraid.

Fighting mad scientists in inter-dimensional time shifts is just in a day’s work for Chet the loudest and strongest of my Old Geezers. However, there is one person who truly terrifies him. We had a brief introduction in Old geezers One. She makes a couple of apperances in number two, but only to pave the way for her starring role in number three.

Here she is at her most fearsome.

Amon tried not to cringe but failed as the faint murmur from the other residents in the bright cafeteria suddenly faded away. It could mean only one thing. As if an omen, the Chief Administrator of the establishment they were pleased to call home appeared, storming imperiously through the automatic doors almost before they’d finished wheezing open. Elderly guests of both sexes suddenly discovered new wells of energy and scattered before her like debris in a hurricane.

Mrs Weintraub had been to the hairdresser. Gone now was the eternal perm. Today her skull bore the iron sheen of a medieval knight’s helmet, the frightening effect of which matched her colossal size. At well over six feet tall, she did not require armour; her massive muscles alone would have repelled an attack from a small army and that was without a reinforced hairstyle. Chet wondered with amazed awe at just who’d plucked up the courage to do it to her; and further just what the grizzly penalty would have been if the hairdresser had screwed it up. He shook his head against the awful images of a man, or worse, some young woman being eviscerated. It didn’t bear thinking about. Amon resisted the urge to genuflect. He held no religious inclinations of any kind but merely the sight of her was enough to provoke barely subdued terror.

If it’s not computers, it’s cats.

For the first time since I began messing about with computers about 27 yrs ago (my first being an Oric which didn’t work) I’m finally glad my machine is as old and ancient as me.

Even though I vowed to stop messing about with that Terragen software, I downloaded the freebie of Terragen 2 which is a lot more sophisticated and able to do all the stuff Terragen 1 wouldn’t do – except on my machine.

It wouldn’t even give me a partial render because my PC is so feeble, and I’m glad. I foresaw a long future of creating nonsense and ignoring the three books I’ve finished but not yet edited; and that’s not including another the three in varying stages of finished-ness.

So now I can go back to Old Geezers 2. I just completed an edit the other day, excising almost one thousand redundant words, only to replace them with three thousand more.

Hopefully the dozen or so further edits will allow it to take shape. Geezers 3 is more than half way through and Kongomato 3 is going nicely.

But not tonight. Harley, my daughter’s Bengal cat has gone adrift. Dropping mangled rats at our back door aside, I do like the little rascal. I hope nothing has happened to him.

It’s doing my head in

I’ve been trying – to stop that is. And I’ve finally managed it because I’m getting bored with water and mountains.

When I built this computer a few years ago it was the ultimate, but just like me it’s old and slow and the second image took almost twenty minutes to render, and at my time of life I can’t wait for the machine to struggle over each individual pixel. It makes watching paint dry seem exciting. So I’ve finally got this software out of my system.


And, amazingly, as bad as my painting is, I get a lot more satisfaction from it.

I’ve discovered something dangerous for my writing.

I did my writing for the day and as I’m off work decided to play with the Net – never a good thing to do.

I happened across and old piece of free software called Terragen, and after stumbling around for a few hours came up with this.

I could get hooked. The only thing is, as it’s free, it doesn’t include any models for me to play with- no trees or forests, rivers and that kind of thing. Nevertheless, I think I’ll have to delete it if I ever want to get any more writing done ever again.

Old Geezers 2

After I’d posted my conversation with Chet the other day I realised that for anyone who hasn’t read Old Geezers 1 it might be a little confusing, so here is the (probable) opening page to the second in the series.

*Bad language alert.*

‘First you nearly get crushed to crap in an earthquake, then swallowed by a giant slavering monster, and almost get me killed in the process – just for a lump of Iron Pyrite? You’re a total asshole!’

Numerous elderly occupants of the large, airy cafeteria shrank in unified loathing as the tirade of derision echoed about their heads. Had anyone of them actually listened to the words their shock and revulsion would have been that much greater – and their desire to rid themselves of these dreadful men. Unfortunately such demonstrations of loutishness were common and upset the carefully contrived serenity of their communal home, casting unwanted shadows upon their twilight years. Hence the very wide demarcation zone between them and the two old men slumped in the corner. Undeterred and even encouraged, the unkempt and enormous speaker cackled loudly before continuing.

Charles (Chet) Haughey was enjoying himself, especially as it was at another’s expense. Ketchup smeared lips twitched in delight as the target of his malicious humour glared murderously at him. Said target, Amon Macafferty, squirmed almost as much as the other patrons of their collective eatery. Not from the words or the sarcasm, which he’d heard many times before and usually ignored, but from the hideous disappointment of his visit to the assayer’s office after first losing, then finally finding his prize.

My journey writing ‘Reunion of the Heart’

Elaine Jeremiah


I publish Reunion of the Heart tomorrow! Woo hoo! I can’t tell you how excited I am. It’s taken me a while to get to this point and today I wanted to write about… well how I came to write it.

When I published my first novel, The Inheritance, slightly less than a year ago, I did it as a kind of experiment.  It was my second completed novel (the first will never see the light of day!!) and although I knew it was far from perfect, I wanted to have the experience of publishing a book and just see how it went.

My husband encouraged me to publish it – he felt it would be a good experience for me.  And it has been.  Although I will say that I was disappointed by the lack of sales.  However I think that one of the main reasons that The Inheritance

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