Where Pegman Crashed. North Pole, Alaska

Santa-peg turned his back on the Cessna-sleigh-plane wreck. Insurance would cover the sleigh but rounding up the reindeer was going to play hell with his schedule. Why had he installed that newfangled SatNav contraption?: The reindeer would never have picked the wrong North Pole. Right now, he needed to wet his beard and — by golly — this was the spot to do it. What a stroke of luck to crash right outside a public house. But what sort of luck?: He hadn’t even reached the bar when he saw them – A consortium of WordPressers clustered around the corner-table sipping ale whilst trading posts. He turned to leave, but it was too late “Look, it’s Santa-peg” a woman shouted. Drat. He couldn’t make a bolt without the reindeer nor let his fans down in good conscience. With a grin he bellowed “Merry Christmas. Ho-ho-ho – Do I have some prompts for you!”.


© Grumpy Axolotl
Image : Google Streetview
Written for What Pegman Saw

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What Pegman heard: Buckhorn, Iowa

Nora was pretty pissed to have been buried next to Violet. She had supposed that the grave was one place she would finally get some peace and quiet. But no! She’d been interred next to the one bitch who just wouldn’t shut the fuck up. At least she got to hear the gossip: John was three holes over and he wasn’t too pleased with the trees. His plot was shaded all summer and the root growing through his ear was threatening to tear his skull asunder. Margaret, the newcomer, was constantly bemoaning the worms that kept her awake with their incessant gnawing and wriggling. And David … He was actually getting a decent rest, while somehow still managing to snore like a rhino. James recounted his war-stories ad-nauseum.

Trembling, Pegman stood up. Never again would he put a stethoscope to the earth.


© Grumpy Axolotl
Written for What Pegman Saw
Image: Google Streetview

Last Tango in Córdoba

Pegman would have loved to have seen Gato Barbieri. R.I.P. Here is what he actually saw:

Holla! Pegman saw those that saw straight back at him and a vicious – yet ultimately pointless – pointing contest between Peg and faceless working-class-locals erupted and spilled out onto the streets. By the time the dust cleared and order had been restored, many holes had been poked in the air, much Spanish spoken and much Tequila dispensed. The flamenco player put aside his hand-crafted guitar as the tap-dancers dispersed (one complaining bitterly of corns). A cat watching from a windowsill yawned, scratched behind one ear, and went back to sleep.


© Grumpy Axolotl.
Written for What Pegman Saw
Image: Google StreetView

Pegman does Norfolk-Naturism

On an island like this, you just have to be naked. No seriously, you really have to be. Be one with nature. Spread your wings beneath the blue sky with its golden orb and fluffy white floaty things. Bound through the meadow, leap over the stream, dash from hillock to hillock, bush to bush, tree to … wait … Is that a thorn tree? Well, maybe a raincoat then, in case it rains and you run into a thorn tree, or a bee-hive. (2nd week running, angry bees have made it into my story – make note to discuss with therapist). Right then: naked underneath a raincoat and a bee-keepers veil, although bees don’t fly in the rain – so on the other hand…. Aaaaaaaargh! There are no axolotls on this island anyway, grumpy or otherwise, and whose idea was it to erect that damnable fence and cut the fucking grass? Bah!


© Grumpy Axolotl.
Written for What Pegman Saw
Image: Google StreetView

What Pegman Saw: Penthouse

The view cost and arm and a leg. Ok maybe just a hand and a leg, suspended in mid-air, but it was worth it. And I’m not finished yet; I’m putting a garden up here: Flowers, vegetables and a bee hive for pollination. Then I’ll add a five-piece rock-jazz-funk-fusion band and a barbeque. Why not a pool too?, with a submerged pool table so guests can get snookered under-water. Afer the bar’s been been open several hours, drunken guests are welcome to play honey-raid, which is initiated by lifting the lids of the bee hives. Some will run screaming and leap over the edge, others will fall into the pool, escaping the bees only to drown miserably behind the eight-ball.


© Grumpy Axolotl.
Written for What Pegman Saw
Image: Google StreetView