ajm crawford

some very odd short stories, rants, music and my ramblings

A terribly small number of people, namely one, asked how or where I get the ideas for my short stories. Well dear “interested” reader, I don’t really know. When the mood or weather conditions suit I’ll sit at the computer and open a blank page. The first words dictate what follows and the narrative just farts out. 

ajm crawford.com is an amalgamation site lovingly drafted from my previous sites “tbaoo” and “my silly writing”.  The style of “tbaoo” was deliberately lower case which explains why some content here remains in this format. Furthermore, now that the first attempt of my short stories is formatted correctly and with the help of SmashWords, it has been distributed to those fine outlets that market ebooks, mine can be purchased for the uniquely wonderful price of “99 cents”. You can invest in the future of modern entertainment … here


Here’s some samples, with some “recent stories” on the right: 

A tremendously small problem was bashing about in the boot. The small problem wouldn’t be quiet. It just bashed, crashed and smashed itself about. Dave wondered how he’d get it to stop. The problem was wondering how it would stop as well. Dave was a mindless worker bee at the local transport department but he’d had enough of the mindless nature of his existence. He wore a snappy corporate outfit to work each day. He felt proud enough of his appearance to launch a number of different hairstyles so he could land on the best one. Nothing was too much trouble, but his budget was not enough to fulfill the “too much trouble” perspective. Today’s problem wasn’t his choice of haircut though, it was a much larger, real life and warmer problem. It was alive, or at least it was when it went in. more

or how about:

There once was a man called Andrew. He ran and he ran and he kept on running. Not really running from, or to anything,  just running for its own sake. He was like that Forest Gump character, on a mission to discover his own inner self, his worn out feet and his ever decreasing frame.

He lost about half a kilo each day and ended up being given clothes and various supplies by strangers as he went running through their little country towns. Smaller towns and smaller clothes. The last of Australia’s hope in these tiny towns, some of them tidy, but all of them full of dismay as they died a slow death. Nearly every young person once reaching a certain age, just up and left. Businesses closed, people died and weren’t replaced. Pubs had no happy hour and the local butcher had long since gone along with the post office and the bank. In fact the owners of the bank and post office fell in love and just disappeared. more

or indeed:

Twas the night before Wednesday and it dawned on Frank that Tuesday was good for pizza. All the local shit shops who willingly dragged themselves into a franchise nightmare had been dramatically reducing the price of their wholesomeless fare. 

Some pizza shops, interestingly called restaurants, could almost be paying the consumer to take the round – or square shit home with them. Eating in would soon attract a $2.00 surcharge but management was concerned that this financial impost may deter their loyal cliental. Their cliental consisted of a wide range of desperate, socially awkward mungs, students, unemployed, homeless ( yes – delivery was problematic ) and the drug affected bods who should have known better. Frank fell within a number of these categories, but the one thing he was really confident of; was that he was not desperate. He’d enjoyed a rousing rambunctious round of sexual athletics with his wild lover who popped into his life from time to time and left him breathless, shagged (after shagging), spent, odorous, calm and ready for sleep. But today being Tuesday he realised that he was a tad hungry and the thought of pizza popped into his head. more

and another:

An incredible thing had happened. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last. The thing that happened watched from its fourth eye on the left side. It was the one on the end of the slippery blueish stork that popped out when it thought that danger was afoot. Although it had no feet, it had a propulsion system built upon millions of years of what the Earth’s main occupants called Evolution. These occupants were on their last days, but they had no idea. 

The human race had been won. Humans won. They destroyed just about everything on the planet, the planet they called Earth. It was called Noshtfixher by the rest of the Galaxy and if something had survived it didn’t have long to go. The flora, fauna, the air, the water, the ground itself was in dire straights and groaned loudly at the virus like excess of the human’s activity. The never-ending search for space, comfort, one-upmanship, sex, food, and pride. All of these things resulted in a smaller and smaller world for the humans to live in. They were two and half days away from having nothing at all. more


Note … the short stories and the other silly things are basically fiction ( unless directly quoted ) snippets have been based on reasonably true events while others dredged out of my dark and stormy imagination. For example, I’m not a psychopathic mass murdering serial killer. If you’ve feedback, I’d love to hear it and hopefully learn from it, while if you’ve criticism, I’d love to learn from that as well. 

A huge cheery thanks in advance – alan.