scheherazade_79
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Recidiva said:
I don't know... I've never seen it. Is it any good?
Writing and responsibility
- Thread starter CharleyH
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I don't know... I've never seen it. Is it any good?
oggbashan
Dying Truth seeker
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A UK TV crime drama aired last week showed a detective forcing a door lock with a credit card.
No credit card would have worked on the lock shown. The knowledge about simple lock picking is essential education in our young offenders' institutions but the reality couldn't be shown on TV.
Og
No credit card would have worked on the lock shown. The knowledge about simple lock picking is essential education in our young offenders' institutions but the reality couldn't be shown on TV.
Og
scheherazade_79
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Recidiva said:
No, I wouldn't.
catalina_francisco
Happily insatiable always
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I'm not big on censorship, self inflicted or government controlled, especially in areas of creative expression. With writing, I think it is a way for some to express and explore areas which are perhaps best not done in actuality, just as it provides an outlet for some readers to go with their fantasies, sexual or otherwise, which they also may be best not to try in reality...it is a good form of escapism While it is nice to try and act responsibly in many areas of life, I do not extend that to how another is going to interpret what I write about in a fictional sense, nor whether they will act it out. People do things without having to have a movie or book to inspire their thoughts and actions, if not how did the first person to write about it get the idea if there was no book or movie already in existance? Unfortunately there will always be people who draw on such things for inspiration, ust as there will always be people who use these forms of expression to blame for their own actions...if they do not have a book or movie, they wil find something or someone else to blame in an effort to excuse their behaviour. Even some of the safest behaviours can be unsafe for someone, we can't be responsible for everyone otherwise we will never write another word, create another image, make another movie, speak another word.
Catalina
Catalina
Recidiva
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scheherazade_79 said:No, I wouldn't.
Cool. You have a line you won't cross and you'll know it if you approach it. Or overshoot it by a mile.
Getting close to that and wondering if you can just go over...by one inch...and come back. Usually, no. Some thoughts you can't take back once they're out.
FallingToFly
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scheherazade_79 said:No, I wouldn't.
Me neither... I'd save it for when the in-laws come to visit.
Recidiva
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I searched for "undetectable poison" once for story purposes, this is what I got, I liked it:
Hobbyist
“I heard a rumor,” Sangstrom said, “to the effect that you-” he turned his head and looked about him to make absolutely sure that he and the druggist were alone in the tiny presecription pharmacy. The druggist was a gnarled gnomelike little man who could have been any age from fifty to one hundred. They were alone but Sangstrom dropped his voice just the same “to the effect that you have a completely undetectable poison.”
The druggist nodded. He came around the counter and locked the front door to the shop, then walked toward a doorwaybehind the counter. “I was about to take a coffee break,” he said. “come with me and have a cup.”
Sangstrom followed him around the counter and through the doorway to a back room ringed by shelves of bottles from floor to ceiling. The druggist plugged in an electric percolator, found two cups and put them on a table that had a chair on either side of it. He motioned Sangstrom to one of the chairs and took the other himself. “Now,” he said “Tell me. Whom do you want to kill , and why?”
“Does it matter?” Sangstrom asked. “
Isn’t it enought that I pay for-”
“The druggist interrupted him with an upraised hand. “Yes, it matters. I must be convinced that you deserved what I can give you. Otherwise-” He shrugged.
“All right,” Sangstrom said.”The whom is my wife, the why -” he started a long story. Before he had quite finished, the percolator had finished its task and the druggist briefly interrupted to get coffee for them. Sangstrom finished his story.
The little druggist nodded. “Yes I occasionally dispense an undetectable poison. I do so freely; I do not charge for it, if I think a case is deserving. I have helped many murderers.
“Fine,” said Sangstrom, “Give it to me then”
The druggist smiled at him. “I already have. by the time the coffee was ready I decided that you deserved it. It was, as I said, free. But there is a price for the antidote.”
Sangstrom turned pale. But he had anticipated-not this, but the possibility of a double-cross or some form of blackmail. He pulled a pistol from his pocket.
The little druggist chuckled. “You daren’t use that. Can you find the antidote” -he waved at the shelves-”among those thousands of bottles? Or would you find a faster, more virulent poison? Or if you think I’m bluffing, that you are not really poisoned, go ahead and shoot. You’ll know the answer within three hours when the poison starts to work.”
“How much for the antidote?” Sangstrom growled.
“Quite reasonable. A thousands dollars. After all, a man must live. Even if his hobby is preventing murders, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t make money at it, is there?”
Sangstrom growled and put the pistol down, but within reach, and took out his wallet. Maybe after he had the antidote, he’d still use that pistol. He counted out a thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills and put it on the table.
The druggist made no immediate move to pick it up. he said “And one other thing-for your wife’s safety and mine. You will write a confession of your intention-your former intention, I trust- to murder your wife. Then you will wait till I go out and mail it to a friend of mine on the homicide detail. He’ll keep it as evidence in case you do decide to kill your wife. Or me, for that matter”
“When it is in the mail it will be safe for me to return here and give you the antidote. I’ll give you paper and pen. . .
“Oh, and one other thing-although I do not absolutely insist on it. Please help spread the word about my undetectable poison, will you? One never knows, Mr. Sangstrom. The life you save, if you have any enemies, just might be your own.”
Fredric Brown, 1961
Hobbyist
“I heard a rumor,” Sangstrom said, “to the effect that you-” he turned his head and looked about him to make absolutely sure that he and the druggist were alone in the tiny presecription pharmacy. The druggist was a gnarled gnomelike little man who could have been any age from fifty to one hundred. They were alone but Sangstrom dropped his voice just the same “to the effect that you have a completely undetectable poison.”
The druggist nodded. He came around the counter and locked the front door to the shop, then walked toward a doorwaybehind the counter. “I was about to take a coffee break,” he said. “come with me and have a cup.”
Sangstrom followed him around the counter and through the doorway to a back room ringed by shelves of bottles from floor to ceiling. The druggist plugged in an electric percolator, found two cups and put them on a table that had a chair on either side of it. He motioned Sangstrom to one of the chairs and took the other himself. “Now,” he said “Tell me. Whom do you want to kill , and why?”
“Does it matter?” Sangstrom asked. “
Isn’t it enought that I pay for-”
“The druggist interrupted him with an upraised hand. “Yes, it matters. I must be convinced that you deserved what I can give you. Otherwise-” He shrugged.
“All right,” Sangstrom said.”The whom is my wife, the why -” he started a long story. Before he had quite finished, the percolator had finished its task and the druggist briefly interrupted to get coffee for them. Sangstrom finished his story.
The little druggist nodded. “Yes I occasionally dispense an undetectable poison. I do so freely; I do not charge for it, if I think a case is deserving. I have helped many murderers.
“Fine,” said Sangstrom, “Give it to me then”
The druggist smiled at him. “I already have. by the time the coffee was ready I decided that you deserved it. It was, as I said, free. But there is a price for the antidote.”
Sangstrom turned pale. But he had anticipated-not this, but the possibility of a double-cross or some form of blackmail. He pulled a pistol from his pocket.
The little druggist chuckled. “You daren’t use that. Can you find the antidote” -he waved at the shelves-”among those thousands of bottles? Or would you find a faster, more virulent poison? Or if you think I’m bluffing, that you are not really poisoned, go ahead and shoot. You’ll know the answer within three hours when the poison starts to work.”
“How much for the antidote?” Sangstrom growled.
“Quite reasonable. A thousands dollars. After all, a man must live. Even if his hobby is preventing murders, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t make money at it, is there?”
Sangstrom growled and put the pistol down, but within reach, and took out his wallet. Maybe after he had the antidote, he’d still use that pistol. He counted out a thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills and put it on the table.
The druggist made no immediate move to pick it up. he said “And one other thing-for your wife’s safety and mine. You will write a confession of your intention-your former intention, I trust- to murder your wife. Then you will wait till I go out and mail it to a friend of mine on the homicide detail. He’ll keep it as evidence in case you do decide to kill your wife. Or me, for that matter”
“When it is in the mail it will be safe for me to return here and give you the antidote. I’ll give you paper and pen. . .
“Oh, and one other thing-although I do not absolutely insist on it. Please help spread the word about my undetectable poison, will you? One never knows, Mr. Sangstrom. The life you save, if you have any enemies, just might be your own.”
Fredric Brown, 1961
Lauren Hynde
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Right, that's what they all say.Recidiva said:
Lauren Hynde
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I find it curious that you just happen to have searched for "undetectable poison" once for quote- story purposes - unquote, that you just happen to have a reference to venom on your signature line, and that your custom title just happens to be an anagram for psychotic. Coincidence? Probably, but I like to start rumours.
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