AMP: Artists' Meeting Place and Resource Collective

Once upon a May 15th, maybe this one, the e-mail accounts of all major newspapers were clogged with thousands of messages sent on that day between noon and 2 pm.. All the messages were brief: 'Impeach by September' . The papers tried to ignore the terse sentiment, tho' the flood of messages shut down their systems.

Oddly, that same day during those same hours, the same thing happened to the Congressional e-mail system.

Wierdest of all, the largest corporate donors of each congressional representative also experienced the same shutdown for the same reasons.

And then, by strange coincidence the same thing happened the next day! And the next! And the next! For thirty days!

Hark!

Chapter One read aloud. Do you recognize the voice?

To those who have read any/all of The Cardiff Grandma((Hi Mom): Could you please send any/all reactions to lindakentartist@yahoo.com or to Mr E here on AMP?
Please put 'Grandma in subj. box (rather than 'hi!" or 'viagra', ex.) Ta, lk

WARNING: This novel contained fake Welsh.
The Cardiff Grandma: Epilogue

In the deceptively wood paneled office of the joint chiefs of the local Indian Nation’s, Wolfcastle and Ddwwchllyf (that’s Ddwwchllyf not Ddwwchlyff) sat pensively. They awaited the arrival of the reason for their being there. Slowly a large oak door creaked open and a bold figure strode through. In an instant both men rose from their chairs and stood upright. They’d stood for something once. Now they stood for the something once more. ‘At ease men. As you were,’ the figure spoke. The two friends slowly returned to their respective positions.

WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the last episode, the birth of a nation. Don’t fail to miss the de-briefing epilogue tomorrow...

The Cardiff Grandma Chapter 73: The Final Chapter

‘So that’s was how it all ended?’

‘Yeah, pretty much.’

‘That’s amazing! I mean I’d have never have guessed… never!’

‘No, nor me. And of course you know the really odd thing in all of this?’

‘No. What?’ …

THE END

WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the last episode, potential survivors gather for the denouement at Dddwwchyllff’s as waters rise and land sinks. HERE – the END of the penultimate chapter, soon to be followed by a short final chapter and a surprising epilogue, so now on to the apocalyptic hoedown at the plas y Ddwwchyllff!
The Cardiff Grandma Chapter 72: LAST PART!

The Vice Chancellor was nobody without Everyone else. He was a broken man, a husk of a shell of a shadow of his former self. Now Everyone had gone and there was nobody left he became an insignificant figure. Stripped of his influence, his power, his underpants and socks, the former dictator was left to rattle around the now empty corridors of the now subterranean top floor of the Welsh University. Would he ever recapture his former position? Was there any way back for the man so forcefully sidelined by Everyone else? Would he find some new underwear?

It seemed a lonely, chilly existence awaited him now.

WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the last episode, the old Bangladeshi punts off into the sunset, Samantha climbs out of the George Walker home in pursuit of Lassie, Ddwwchllyff shows off his suitcase-in-a-suitcase-in-a-suitcase ad infinitum. The chapter charges along at top speed in search of closure...
The Cardiff Grandma Chapter 72; Part II

When Rhoda Crwys’s new companions Schumacher, Plenty Capable, Sunny Quito and Short Mat Bowls stepped into the room with everyone else, they were not surprised to see Wolfcastle and Ddwwchlyff arguing with two identical cherry-lipped assassins over the matter of hypo-superficial channels. They’d been told to expect something like this. They’d undergone a grueling seminar on the bewilderingly contentious topic of underground tunnels. They’d heard how the validity of a proposition on which public opinion fell evenly into two camps led to a statistically expressable likelihood of each side being exactly half-wrong. ‘My problem,’ Rhoda had alerted them confidentially as they entered the third floor window and stampeded over to the winding staircase leading up to the fourth floor and the professionally disembodied voices, ‘is that I can’t think of any ramifications. What is the way forward?’

WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the last episode, Wong and a very special wolfhair rug, Peppet’s surviving brother Wonce, the Vice, and Snought all have roles to play while most everyone else except everyone else gathers at the Largest Hill house as if drawn by a mysterious force... and NOW – everything else happens, finally, at last!
The Cardiff Grandma Chapter 72; Part I

Things began to happen quickly. Single paragraphs bulged with the events of three or four, their contents spilling out onto the floor. Later, no one would be able to say what happened when, or in what order, or to whom. Somebody somewhere sneezed. A dog barked. Everyone else listened intently. Was it him? No, it was coming from the ranch-style attic of the old George Walker, home for Partially ndented and Criminally Not Quite Righ. Professor Erm paused between rungs. There was something missing... what was it? Something to do with a box, yes, that was it – a box. A box filled with hundreds of tiny pieces of oddly shaped colour-splashed pasteboard. But what was it? Erm couldn’t figure it out. It was a puzzle, he thought as the ladder fell slowly backwards. A figure possibly resembling Professor Snought seemed to hurry across the grassy knoll on his way to an apparent meeting with the vice. It was not to be. Wong felt the wolf hair rug with practiced fingers – an unusual feature in any rug, unheard of in wolf hair! Behind the sheltering Buddleia, Wonce Peppet quietly and without fanfare re-opened the case. Sixteen members of a delegation, there to discuss academic opportunities for Arcorgian exchange students, were ushered by somebody else into the office of the ALMIGHTY VICE CHANCELOR OF THE WELSH UNIVERSITY. He was in a bonecrushing mood. Soon there was just a handful of people left. He squished it until they oozed out between his knobbled fingers and trickled down his ghastly carpus. ‘Why is Colonel Wence Peppet malingering behind that concealing shrubbery?’ Snought never inquired of a passing figment of his imagination. It never hurried past him, not avoiding his glance. Well, he’d find out for himself, he would, he would! (He would, were he not already to be found clutching at straws in a concrete and black gold grave.)

WARNING: This novel contains fake Welsh.
In the last episode, Wong begins to stir as everyone else turns savagely on the Vice. The crowd at Ddwwchllyff's surprisingly proximate manse continues to swell, as the cast of characters try to squeeze into the antepenultimate chapter...
The Cardiff Grandma Chapter 71

Wonce Peppet was a miserable bastard just like his miserable brother had been. But his brother had been the lucky one – he’d died first. Wence Peppet wouldn’t have to live in a world where there was no one exactly as miserable as him. Wonce would. Wonce was staring at decades of unaccompanied miseration. His brother’s good fortune made him all the more miserable, so in the end, his and his brother’s miserableness were no longer on a par, Wonce’s being of longer duration. This would have gratified Wonce, but gratification, satisfaction, vindication – these would have lifted the veil of gloom swaddling him like sackcloth, could even (in a worst case scenario) put a spring in his step. Peppets weren’t built to be steppers, let alone springers. The Peppets were a breed of slinkers genetically predisposed toward creeping, skulking, scuttling, sidling and sloping. Nonetheless, they get where they’re going, unforeseeable death-dealing student bodies aside, and when they get there they hand over the suitcase, but not before they have a peek inside. Such are the Peppets – a miserable, trudging, predictable tribe. Easy pickings for an assassin, in other words. And yet, unlike all of their forebears, this was not to be the fate of the last two Peppets on earth. Wence Peppet had already died a natural death in a flukey accident and Wonce Peppet, slipping behind a handy Buddleia to have a peek inside, would fare no better. Damn it…