Is Greed Good?

fantasy 1 Minute

Normally, a flood of biblical proportions would have wiped out everything in its path, but Herbert’s housebout was both submersible and capable of short range flights. The onboard computer gave him enough warning to find smooth water for take off, but with a multitude of earthquakes destroying several dams simultaneously, his home lacked the range to reach a safe landing strip.

The ideal characteristics of a palatial dwelling and an aircraft just didn’t gel well. For the first time, Herbert found himself questioning the wisdom of having both a jacuzzi room and a sauna. Perhaps he should have combined his office and library too. The landing probably wasn’t going to be as elegant as a forger’s handwriting. Herbert had been claiming that greed is good for his entire career as a life coach for entrephreneurs, but now he wasn’t so sure.

The altitude of his flying amphibious vehicle was declining more swiftly than he intended. He hoped the caravan park he was about to crash into was vacant. It wasn’t. There weren’t any more people there, but some bookworms had taken up residence, bookworms of the most ferocious species the world has ever seen.

Herbert doubted he had enough leather bound encyclopaedias to feed them all. Were they connoiseurs of the world’s finest acid free paper, or accustomed enough to junk food to accept toilet paper with Richard Nixon quotes on it. He was about to find out.


© Rodney Hunter, 2023

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Published by surrealartpsychonaut

Among other things, the Surreal Art Psychonaut is a conduit to a lonely desert track lined with abandoned museums, laboratories full of aliens and aliens full of laboratories. Agar gel is their marmalade, anthrax is their herbs and spices and steel is their fiber. The Psychonaut's LIKE button is not there for decorative purposes, if you enjoy one of his poems, short stories, or articles, PRESS IT. Striking the LIKE button is as critical as sounding the alarm when the Triffids rise again. If I am displeased by a critique, I will paint the offenders lounge suite with a cocktail of rats piss and goats blood, graffiti their cat, tattoo their goldfish and reduce the tires of their pride and joy to a molten mess with some epic burnouts in the nearest police station car park. Then I will waggle my finger at them and say, you should not have said that. At this point, you may be wondering just how much we have in common. My hobbies are vampire hunting, werewolf taming and exorcising flagons of rum. Look, the spirits are all gone. I'm a unicorn whisperer by trade, and have been for the best part of eight centuries. I've spent the worst part of eight centuries having tickle fights with the alien from the Predator movie. The less said about that the better.

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