Dr. Dume ~ The Doctor is In

Dumelet has emerged. Time of emergence was 01:00 GMT on 31st October 2009 for those who care about such things and his birth weight was probably around twelve pounds. It's hard to be sure because he'd eaten the placenta and most of the bait before I had him caged.

Senga is recovering. The wounds aren't likely to be fatal even though this Dumelet did come with unusually long fingernails and very sharp hair. She wanted to cuddle him. I don't think that's a good idea until he's been domesticated and even then it's a risk. So I dosed her up with her favourite booze and left her to sleep. While she's asleep I'll fix the more damaging wounds with Araldite and acrylic paint. By the morning she won't know the difference although it might sting a bit if she makes any sudden moves. She might take a little longer to make breakfast than usual but I have to make allowances. She has just given birth, after all.

As for Dumelet, he's gnawing at the bars of his titanium cage but he won't get through them. I'll drop in a thigh or two to keep him busy for the night and transfer him to his cot when he's calmed down. I have long tongs for the purpose.

Now I have to think of names for him. The ones I used when he tried to bite through my chain mail gloves are probably not suitable.

Posted by Dr. Dume at 01:17 AM | Permalink

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This is a spoof trailer that is very funny but also contains a most wonderful premise.

A killer who uses no knife or gun. A killer who beats his victim to death with a spoon. Over a period of years. In public, and nobody believes it's happening.

There's an idea in there that can be wonderful if worked on. I'd lose the spoon though.

Posted by Dr. Dume at 03:53 AM | Permalink

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Everything is prepared for the emergence of the Dumelet. He tried to get out earlier tonight but a few well-placed staples put paid to that . He cannot be born before the 31st. It's tradition.

Since Senga appears to be in a huff for some reason, I settled down with a film and some finger-snacks. Tonight it was 'Simon Says' from Darkmoon Pictures. It was an absolutely delightful film.

No supernatural monsters, one ghost, a couple of possible ghosts, and the most deranged and cunning madman I've seen in a long time. Oh, it had its cliche moments, the sprained ankle, the 'Leave me, I'm done for' bit, the Norman Bates tribute corpse, but I can overlook all that for the most imaginative use of pickaxes I have ever seen and the doll... amazing. Gore factor eight, I think, for this one, and the ending was perfect. That's what horror should be like.

Plus a little comedy when the doomed meet the weirdos:

"You go through town and keep going till you get to the river."

"Which way is town?"

"See that building over there? That's town."

"Oh. And where do you live?"

"Outta town."

Must go. Senga is screaming something unintelligible about teeth and sharp nails. Sounds like I'll need the chloroform again.

Posted by Dr. Dume at 11:52 PM | Permalink

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The new issue of AlienSkin is online, just in time for the dark evenings. This time I've written about ghosts, with a few tips from a friend.

Sergeant Shelsky discusses how science fiction eventually becomes science fact. Everyone carries those 'Star Trek' communicators now, Well, almost everyone. I don't have one because it would risk an interruption during a delicate experiment, I hate interruptions. I hear the police now carry phaser guns too. All that's missing to make Star Trek real are the monsters and that's only because they can't get out of the swamp. Oh, and some guy with pointy ears who finds everything illogical. We already have Scottish engineers who never seem to manage more than a temporary fix. That spaceship broke down every week. You'd think they'd have sent Kirk and his crew out in something a bit more reliable.

Lady Blade is thinking very dark thoughts in this issue. She speaks of the Terror of the Whiteness, of the Page With No Words that all writers have to face from time to time. That should have been the horror article this issue, I think. It's certainly scarier than mine!

I have to try out that Fibonacci sequence poetry idea. They are to be found in the sidebars all over the site. I see our own AlienQueenMum has sneaked one in this issue - can you spot it? Poetry has never been my thing because I'm useless at it but these are so small, even I might finish one in my lifetime.

Speaking of which, the day of the Dumelet draws ever nearer. I still have to set up the spikes around my bed and the trip-wires at the windows. I'm not worried about him getting out. I'm worried about where he might choose to get back in.

Posted by Dr. Dume at 10:15 PM | Permalink

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I've just watched 'Asylum', a film of Gore Factor Five and a decent premise. A crazed doctor tortures patients in his asylum - nothing unusual about that - but this one continues to do so after he's died, and after the asylum has been refitted and put to another use. No Dume would do such a thing. That's just rude.

It was the ending that irked me. Like so many such films, the police are involved in a series of mysterious disappearances throughout but are rarely present for the finale. So how do the surviving characters explain a) how they are the only ones who know where the bodies are and b) why their fingerprints are all over the place?

That lack of resolution at the end of many horror stories annoys me. Surely those characters who survive are going to be number one suspects for the killings? The police are not famed for their acceptance of paranormal antagonists, especially since the main character has vanquished the monster and has no corpse to show for it. They are unlikely to live happily ever after unless they are happy living in a cell. What happens after the demon dies? For the characters its's not the end of the story.

There is room for a story framed within a prison, where an inmate tells their story to a lawyer or visitor or psychiatric assessor. First person or third limited, because the only story you can tell is what the prisoner experienced for themselves.

Start with the prisoner led into the assessor's office and end with the assessor recommending the prisoner be sent to the new secure psychiatric prison. Which is, by pure chance, located in the exact, now refurbished, building where the prisoner fought the demon and won.

When the killings start again, who do you think will get the blame?

There's a sequel in there too.

Posted by Dr. Dume at 11:19 PM | Permalink

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The weather has turned colder. This is a good thing because I'll keep longer and the fridges won't be on so often, which will save some money.

Senga feels differently. She wants to know where the heating system is. There isn't one, apart from the wood fires in selected and cost-effective fireplaces. I don't know what she's so worried about. She has an extra body inside hers so her heat generation must be greater than mine.

Speaking of which, it's nearly time for the Dumelet to emerge. I still don't have a name for him. Only four weeks to go before Senga, my wife and incubator, experiences the delights of childbirth the Dume way. Everything is already sharpened in preparation and the leather restraints have been waxed and tested for strength.

The nursery is another source of disagreement. I covered the walls in blue mould to make it look nice and have a whole set of fingers arranged on a mobile. I even put fresh barbed wire around the cot and threw out the old rusty stuff. I wouldn't want him to hurt himself.

Senga wants the mould replaced with paint - of the same colour - which seems like a total waste of time to me. Besides, paint needs to be cleaned while mould simply grows over any stains. She doesn't like the barbed wire either but I have to insist that stays. I want to know where he is when I'm asleep.

As for the mobile, she wants the fingers replaced with something else. She suggested fish. Is she mad? Those things stink after a few days. The fingers have been carefully steeped in formalin so the stench is bearable even after months. By then he'll have eaten them all anyway. Apparently she doesn't like the way they all point into the cot. Might give him psychological problems, she says. No they won't. They'll get him ready for his first visit to the village. The background tapes of malevolent whispers will help with that too. I am a thoughtful father, as you see.

One thing I have yet to prepare is my own defensive barrier. The Dumelet will start trying to kill me before he can walk, as is traditional. I don't intend to make it too easy for him to win.

I don't want to spoil him, you see.

Posted by Dr. Dume at 01:23 AM | Permalink

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