Donna Moore - ZERO ZERO UFO

She was a three-eyed, dome-headed beauty from the planet Bolgan and I knew she was trouble. When she walked into my office that day I was sitting with one foot up on the scratched desk top, one resting on the upturned waste-paper basket, and the third tapping gently on the floor to the sounds of the Ramones - an ancient old time punk band from the planet Earth.

The bright red glow from the two Zogian suns outside the window of my office shone through the window, causing my visitor to narrow all her eyes and squint at me in that slightly accusatory way that the Bolgans have. At that moment, the famous old adage, 'Never get involved with a three-eyed, dome-headed Bolgan beauty' passed fleetingly through my brain. I wish it had stopped for a while, pulled up a brain cell, and rested its weary feet. They say hindsight's a wonderful thing. At least, they do on the planet Mirmar where they have eyes in the backs of their pointy little heads.

Anyway, when she walked into my office I was taking a pull on the bottle of Grogon juice that I keep there to while away time on the slack days. Unfortunately, this year has been 842 slack days long. You'd think as the only PI on the planet Zog, I would be inundated with work. But no. When they sent me down to Earth to live among the pasty faced ignorant humans for a while to pick my future career path, I should have remembered that there's no crime on Zog, and focused instead on nuclear physics. In popular Earth culture classes, when all my fellow Zogians were sniggering uncontrollably over episodes of Star Trek, I was devouring the works of Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett, Agatha Christie and Dorothy L Sayers. I took up smoking, learned how to knit, insisted on being called Lord Peter, and bought a fedora. I should have bought two, since I have 2 heads, but, hey, I'm killing time by knitting myself another one from baby blue wool.

"Aratsafar Zabalagorian?" said the beauty. "Private Investigator?"

"Thatsh me shweetheart." I said through several almost immobile lips, with the slight lisp I'd cultivated (did I mention culture classes also included Humphrey Bogart films?)

I took another swig of Grogon juice and winced as it burned its fiery way down my throats. "But this stuff," I waved the glass at her, "is almost as much of a mouthful as my name. So I've changed it. My name I mean."

On my return from planet Earth, battered and well-thumbed paperbacks in hand (well, they would have been well-thumbed if I'd had thumbs, but, of course, being a Zogian, I don't), I'd decided to change my name - call myself something more in keeping with my heroic ideal of the rumpled PI with an eye for the dames, a cynical swagger, and a trusty .38 special.

"So?" she said. "What do I call you?"

"The name's Marple. But you can call me Miss."

Patrick Moore - SOMEBODY PUT SOMETHING IN MY DRINK

My first thoughts were “Who on earth are the Ramones?” Then I was told that I could kill them off. I thought that they were dead already, they appear to have slaughtered many of their songs, most of which I had never heard of.

The list of songs appeared endless, then Somebody Put Something In My Drink appeared, I only hope it was toxic. A good murder by poison is what was needed, no need to look for bodies, their songs are littered with them.

Taking a look at the biography it was not surprising that they died the death of most “punk rock” bands, their so called music sounded awful to the sophisticated ear. It is not a surprise that the drink was adulterated with a substance not altogether palatable, one that would lead to an early demise.

So... Rest In Pieces Ramones.

Ewan McGhee - MAMA'S BOY

Right off, it was clear Johnny just didn’t want me in the band. ‘Cause everybody thinks I look too geeky, a big, lanky weirdo, and not cool enough to be in a rock n roll band.

So he sets me this initiation test. Says I gotta prove myself, earn my place. Says if I can steal a guitar from this music store down in Brooklyn.

In a rare moment of bravery, I ask him, what’d he do to earn his place?

He’s got nothin to prove, he says, but I can set him any test I want and he’ll do it.

And I know he would, he’d do anythin, fearless. Nothin gonna stand in his way of getting what he wants in life, whatever it is, just go right out there and take it, way he used to beat people up and take their money.

And being in a band for him, it’s the same as bein in the army, he’s in this war to make it big. And it makes me hate his fuckin guts for being so sure of himself. But also it makes me want more ‘n ever to be in a band with him, ‘cause I wanna be close to that, and part of that. Don’t want my Mom to be the only woman ever to love me, and that’s about the only way I’m gonna get any girl is by bein in a band.

So I say, sure, I’ll do it, I’ll steal the guitar. He just grunts, but Dee Dee’s like ‘Alrite’, laughin and slappin me on the back, ‘Joey’s the man, Joey’s the shit.’

I’m just glad the initiation test wasn’t to try to talk my way into some girl’s pants, or talk to her even.

We arrange to meet down at the store next day, Saturday, when it’ll be real busy, at 8 minutes past one. Johnny’s idea, comin over all military again. Says he’s goin to create a diversion in the store, get everybody’s attention, then I swipe the guitar and get outta there before the smoke clears.

I ask him what kind of diversion, and he just says, ‘you’ll know when it happens.’

Next day, I’m half way down there, when I start thinking about if I’ve left the cooker on, and I can’t help myself, there’s nothing I can do when that happens and I have to rush all the way back to Forest Hills to make sure, then hurry all the way back. I’m sweating all over by the time I get down there, thinking I’m gonna be late, but I’m just a block away, and it’s only just before one o’clock, so I slow down then.

Couple of stores before the musical instrument one, there’s one selling records. On the way past, I stop when I see Dee Dee in there at a listening post. Headphones on, smoking a cigarette, chewing gum, drinking a beer, singing out loud, popping his fingers, shaking his head and moving his feet. Dee Dee’s got too much life goin on in there for his body to contain it all, he needs like 3 mouths and a couple of bodies to do everything he needs to do. I give him a salute but he doesn’t see me, he’s got his shades on and maybe his eyes closed or somethin, I don’t know.

So I move on into the musical instrument store. There are a whole load of people, stepping round amps and drum kits, but I can just make out Johnny down in front, one of the assistants is plugging a Les Paul guitar into a Marshall stack for him to try it out. The assistant turns the volume way down, and Johnny starts messin around, playing some chords.

Dee Dee walks in and talks to the other assistant, and the guy takes off out back of the store to fetch him something. Then Dee Dee gets the other guy, one was helping Johnny way across to the other side of the store from Johnny. Then I hear Johnny crank the amp right up and through the squalls of feedback shouting ‘1, 2, 3, 4’ and start playing the chords to The Stooges ‘Wanna Be Your Dog’. The sound of it nearly blows the windows out of the shop, and I realise that’s my cue. I grab a Telecaster down from its hooks on the wall and hurry out the door.

I make it back to the meeting place without any problems, but now I’m sweating so much I think I got no salt left in my body or something.

When Dee Dee and Johnny get there, I play them three chords and sing a little something I’ve written. Dee Dee’s face blows ups, his eyes and mouth all shining and laughing, but Johnny. Well Johnny just grunts and says: ‘OK, so you passed the first test.’

Bobbie Rudd - EAT THAT RAT

Ok, ok, it wasn't really planned. And I didn't make hardly any money on the robbery, and it really made my Mum angry. But at the time it seemed 'smart' and a sexy thing to do.

Another boring day, as I ate in the park, I sat and watched those rats with bushy tails begging from other folks. Most people call them squirrels but let's be honest, they're rodents. And those front teeth can chew through a house door--I know that for a fact, happened on our garage door, saw them do it! Anyway, I watched them, bored, and decided today was the day. I'd stop being nice.

So I tempted one of the bushy-tailed rats with bread crumbs, when it got close I pounced my bag on it, zipped it, and with it creating havoc but unseen, I walked over to the convenience store. When the clerk waited on me, I said "Please hand over all your money." The clerk was nervous, reached down below the counter and I shouted "NO!", and he froze. I said "Hand me the money." He squirmed...and by the way my bag was squirming and screeching wildly by now, and drawing the clerk's eyes. He handed over the dollars from the till, I opened my bag and said "Eat That Rat!!!" and left.

No, they didn't find me, the cameras were not working in the c-store, and nobody could figure out who'd use a squirrel as a robbery weapon. I haven't tried it again, but it really was sort of fun--though I only made $35.00. But shouting Eat That Rat and thinking of The Ramones was great fun! Sorry Mum.

The Challenge

Back in September I issued a challenge to anyone who fancied writing a story using a Ramones song title as the title for the story? The story doesn't need to be based on the song, it just needs to use the title.

I'm not big on rules but the minimal rules were:

1. Stories should be under 750 words, to reflect the fact that Ramones songs were really, really short.
2. Stories posted on your blog on 1st November (or thereabouts) and I'll put links to them all here. If you don't have a blog, I would be thrilled to post them here for you.
3. There needs to be a crime in it, but it can be as petty as you like.

For non-Ramones fans - what about 53rd and 3rd with its tale of a male prostitute:

"Then I took out my razor blade
Then I did what God forbade"

Or Blitzkrieg Bop's "Shoot'em in the back now"

And the rich implications of Teenage Lobotomy's:
"Now I guess I'll have to tell 'em
That I got no cerebellum" (which just have to be some of the finest lyrics ever!)

And then of course there's I Don't Wanna Go Down To The Basement, You're Gonna Kill That Girl, You Should Have Never Opened That Door, Born to Die in Berlin, Cabbies on Crack, Heidi is a Headcase, Too Tough To Die...lots of delicious inspiration there.

Here are 183 song titles (complete with lyrics).