Remember, back it up...

I aspire to be a writer. To my shame I am a published poet. (one, once, unpaid, in an anthology that was too poor and expensive for anyone including myself to buy. Nevertheless, I'm going to hell). Mainly I write bad science fiction. Which foolish publishers reject on the grounds that its bad. Its meant to be bad, damn you. Its aimed at 14 year old geek boys for light reading between furious masturbation sessions. I was one - I know the audience. Publish me damn you.

Anyway, Obviously my hard disk crash and the subsequent loss of 80 gig of porn has left me traumatized. Only now am I realising that my sci-fi opus was also not backed up. Indeed, most of my work has gone. Probably for the best. However, trawling through unlabelled disks I came across a short story I wrote, well, must be 15 or 20 years ago. Boy is it cheesy. It drips literary cheese. Still, I'm always up for a bit of public humiliation so I have included it in the post below. For those of you with better things to do than actually read it, its about a cat. The cat dies. (I don't really like cats).