Volcanic Splash were the new hot ‘thing’, the band everyone and their mothers were listening to. The radio stations never seemed to play anything else, though perhaps I was just exceedingly unlucky. Ever since their appearance on Britain’s Got Talent, their faces were everywhere. Photo shoots, interviews, tv appearances, and even (weirdly) an advert for strawberry-flavoured condoms.
The five band members were, by boy band standards, extremely attractive. Like, seriously smoking. And their voices sounded ‘like angels had fallen out of heaven’, to quote a rather tearful Amanda Holden.
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have minded. I’m kind of partial to boy bands, even if they’re nestled on my iTunes playlist amongst Slipknot and Black Stone Cherry.
But Volcanic Splash, well…
Every single one of them had been in my pants.
I don’t know what possessed my five ex-boyfriends to form a boy band, or how they even met. Was there an ‘Erin’s Exes Anonymous’ I didn’t know about?
Damn it, why did I have to fall for boys with smoky, sultry, sexy voices?
It didn’t help that the song that had rocketed them to fame was, you guessed it, all about me. Worse, it was catchy.
I’m expecting the press to figure out my identity any day now, and then things will really kick off.
Fml.
Showing posts with label Volcanic Splash. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Volcanic Splash. Show all posts
Friday, 18 May 2012
Volcanic Splash by Sam Smith
We sat on the floor in front of the waist-high bookcase and scanned the shelves, which were packed with DVD cases.
‘Star Wars?’ She pulled out the copy of The Phantom Menace, and started reading the blurb on the back.
‘If we’re watching Star Wars, we’re not watching that bloody one,’ I said. ‘It’s just there to complete the set.’
She nodded and slid it back into the row. ‘I wondered why it still had the wrapping on.’
‘Because it’s not worth the hassle.’
‘What about Back to the Future?’
I shook my head. ‘I watched them last week.’
‘Lord of the Rings?’
‘Those were a gift from my aunt. You will notice that they are also still in the wrapping because those films are bullshit. Three slow, repetitive and boring movies all to throw a ring into a volcano. Might as well watch red paint dry.’
She sighed. ‘Well fine, what do you want to watch?’
My eyes flicked along the shelves. In my head, I found a reason to not watch any of the DVDs I owned. ‘None of them.’
She hummed. It wasn’t a musical hum. It was quite an annoyed hum. A single, flat note.
I stood up and walked to the kitchen. ‘I’m fine with whatever you want to watch.’
‘Mission Impossible?’
‘Nope.’
‘Star Wars?’ She pulled out the copy of The Phantom Menace, and started reading the blurb on the back.
‘If we’re watching Star Wars, we’re not watching that bloody one,’ I said. ‘It’s just there to complete the set.’
She nodded and slid it back into the row. ‘I wondered why it still had the wrapping on.’
‘Because it’s not worth the hassle.’
‘What about Back to the Future?’
I shook my head. ‘I watched them last week.’
‘Lord of the Rings?’
‘Those were a gift from my aunt. You will notice that they are also still in the wrapping because those films are bullshit. Three slow, repetitive and boring movies all to throw a ring into a volcano. Might as well watch red paint dry.’
She sighed. ‘Well fine, what do you want to watch?’
My eyes flicked along the shelves. In my head, I found a reason to not watch any of the DVDs I owned. ‘None of them.’
She hummed. It wasn’t a musical hum. It was quite an annoyed hum. A single, flat note.
I stood up and walked to the kitchen. ‘I’m fine with whatever you want to watch.’
‘Mission Impossible?’
‘Nope.’
Volcanic Splash by Lesley Whyte
The villagers chanted unfamiliar words and banged their drums feverishly as she was carried up the mountain, swathed in white, her hands and ankles bound. Her litter, carried by four burly natives, came in the middle of the procession, the villagers surrounding her on all sides, even at the narrowest points. The priest followed directly behind her, reading the ancient rights in a foreign tongue.
The mountain rumbled beneath them.
It smoked as they reached the top. The drumming stopped. The chanting ceased. She was set on her feet, the ropes binding her slashed. Where could she run to now?
As the priest anointed her brow and cheekbones with ashes, she could have sworn she felt a splash of lava touch her bare foot. She swallowed deeply and leant close to the priest, hoping desperately that he spoke English.
"There's been a mistake. I'm...I'm not a virgin," she hissed.
The priest looked her dead in the eye and then shrugged. "These days, who is? You'll just have to do, I'm afraid."
The mountain rumbled beneath them.
It smoked as they reached the top. The drumming stopped. The chanting ceased. She was set on her feet, the ropes binding her slashed. Where could she run to now?
As the priest anointed her brow and cheekbones with ashes, she could have sworn she felt a splash of lava touch her bare foot. She swallowed deeply and leant close to the priest, hoping desperately that he spoke English.
"There's been a mistake. I'm...I'm not a virgin," she hissed.
The priest looked her dead in the eye and then shrugged. "These days, who is? You'll just have to do, I'm afraid."
Volcanic Splash by Meg Burrows
Volcanic Splash is like…..
short fused bubbles,
the inside of a circle of consuming fire,
an erratic ripple of flames,
a fractured iris looking into the sun,
chilli face paint that’s spilt on a bare arm,
the split second of ignition in a lava fuelled DeLorean.
short fused bubbles,
the inside of a circle of consuming fire,
an erratic ripple of flames,
a fractured iris looking into the sun,
chilli face paint that’s spilt on a bare arm,
the split second of ignition in a lava fuelled DeLorean.
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