The Lemon Possum’s Funhouse

The Weird Writings of Gareth Barsby

This is a Weirdverse story.


karlmirror

‘I’m certain you’re running out of ideas by now,’ sighed Karl, looking up at the multicoloured monstrosity before him. A large yellow and red and green crooked house, with the entrance being a gigantic grinning clown head, a tongue acting as a red carpet. All around the base of the house were multiple jack-o-lanterns, a reminder of the holiday the house was made for. Above the clown’s head was a banner reading: “The Lemon Possum’s Fun House! £5 Entry! Make it through and get a year’s supply of sweets!”

Karl the Kangaroo then looked down to see The Lemon Possum who owned the Funhouse, now wearing the straw hat and striped jacket of the archetypical barker. ‘I suppose this was the suggestion of your new friend “The Ringmonster”?’

The Lemon Possum chuckled. ‘What’s the matter, Karl? Is the mighty kangaroo frightened?’

Karl sighed…

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Karl the Kangaroo

The Weird Writings of Gareth Barsby

karlkangarooThis was originally a prose story, but I thought it’d work better as a poem.

Karl the Kangaroo,
Was a well-known name,
He owned a company,
That made mobile games,

He was very rich,
And he wore a smart suit,
You may think that funny,
But he wasn’t so cute,

He didn’t hop,
Or bounce like a hare,
He’d walk down halls slowly,
With a vicious cold stare,

Karl had employees,
And he gave them pay,
But frequently denied them,
Necessary off-days,

He wouldn’t give them time off,
He ignored every plea,
From every worker who needed,
To see their family,

He silenced chatter,
And birthday greetings,
The room would turn cold,
When he went to his meetings,

The cloud that he brought,
Over workers was huge,
He was less a Skippy than
An Ebenezer Scrooge.

One worker, Rob, thought,
‘Perhaps he is bad,
Because deep down,
He’s really just…

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The Lemon Possum

The Weird Writings of Gareth Barsby

possum1

Once there was a possum,
Whose name was Bill,
And every night,
His gut he would fill.

When the skies were dark,
He would go off and rummage,
Through myriad bins,
To find the most delectable rubbish,

possum2

This little ritual,
He’d perform every night,
What we’d call disgusting,
Would sate his appetite.

possum3

But then one evening,
Our grey little fellow,
Came upon a possum,
Whose fur was bright yellow.

‘Who are you?’
Bill asked the possum so large,
(He didn’t mind she was different,
He wasn’t Nigel Farage.)

‘I am the Lemon Possum,’
She said with a smile,
‘Why do you eat rubbish?
It’s rancid and vile!’

‘But I find it delicious,’
said Bill, ‘It’s the best!’
‘No,’ said Lemon Possum,
‘Put that notion to rest!

‘You want to eat from bins?
You have no imagination!
Let me introduce you to
A new eating sensation!’

possum4

She conjured up ice cream,

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Frogmalion

The Weird Writings of Gareth Barsby

This story contains some brief nudity.


wanda

Many would say the life of a frog is an idyllic one. You spend your days sitting by a rippling lake, looking up at the sun shining through the green leaves, catching all the flies you can with your special tongue.

So many frogs would say that. Yet so many frogs also talk about becoming human.

Not just any human either; just about every frog believes, or has believed at some point, that they are secretly a human prince or princess, and a kiss will return them to their true form. Then they would leave the pond and the nearby woods and live the rest of their lives in a sparkling castle where they would be waited on hand and foot and feast on meals larger than a simple fly or two.

I was one of those frogs. When I was a tadpole, I…

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Do You Like My Pumpkin Head?

The Weird Writings of Gareth Barsby

headlesshorseman

It’s quite a beauty, isn’t it? Looks just like a typical jack-o-lantern you see on Hallowe’en, but it never rots, the fire never goes out, and I can even change the expressions. I can make it smile, make it frown, and of course, make it snarl. Ever since I obtained it, people have been more terrified of my appearance than ever and my entrances have been more dramatic.

I did have to make a pretty big sacrifice to gain this head though.

No, I’m not talking about the cannonball thing.

It began when I was as headless as my moniker says I am; though that night was one of the few nights I was without my horse. Even ghosts need a break every now and then, so I gave Bluebell the night off and decided to take a walk through the woods, actually taking in the scenery and the evening…

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Recurring Character Index

The Weird Writings of Gareth Barsby

There are many stories and poems on The Weird Writings of Gareth Barsby, and it’s not unusual for certain characters to make return appearances or for characters from one story to interact with characters from another. This is an index of the most recurring characters you’ll find in this blog and the stories in which they appear (only characters who have appeared in three stories or more will be listed).

Some stories may contain violence, gore or foul language.

The Lemon Possum
Karl the Kangaroo
The Mad Hatter
Lisa the Pizza Woman
Dr. Meow
Anne the Duck
Bert and Jenny
Ricky Raven
Patty, the Demon in the Supermarket
Emily
Dom Claude Frollo
The Slithering Super Snakes
The Ringmonster
Gina the Not-So-Jolly Doe
Mr. Skeleton
Arachne
Elaine and her Father


The Lemon Possum

possum4

A mysterious possum with the power to make sweets and treats materialise from thin air. She may seem…

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The Ghost Train

The Weird Writings of Gareth Barsby

This story contains some death and violence.


If I told you the scariest thing I’ve ever seen was on a ghost train, you’d laugh at me. You’d think I went to the funfair and after trying to hook a duck to win a cuddly Bugs Bunny, I got frightened by a plastic skeleton dropping down on me.

Well, for one thing, it didn’t happen at a funfair.

My story begins a few Fridays ago, when my best friend Jim and I were having a couple of drinks down at the pub. Jim had just left to go back home to his wife Barbara, and I, having had one too many pints, decided to walk back to my flat to clear my head. I made sure to walk slowly, so I could take in the night air and so I could see how different my street looked at night.

One thing…

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