“A fun tale for Denise Dianaty and the We Paw Bloggers Facebook group.
As authors we all know the horror of being plagiarised. To have our intellectual property copied or stolen with permission is so terribly violating! So let’s meet author Xenia and see what she does about a plagiarizer.”
To Punish a Plagiariser
‘Plagiarist boiled up to his gonads in bat guano!’
Xenia’s eyes scanned her screen with her haw hanging open — she was mortified. That sentence posted on the familiar blue glow of Facebook had her captivated for all the wrong reasons.
“I wrote that line in my new book. It’s not even been out two weeks and someone’s plagiarised it already!” she clicked the link to see entire passages from her book being reviewed. ‘Written by Gordan Clark, this book is hilarious!’ it intoned.
“Gordan Clark, my foot!” Xenia banged her fist on the desk spilling coffee all over her Persian cat mousepad. “Who are you, Gordan?”
The real Persian in the room, a blue cat called Darian, flicked his tail with irritation as his mistress’s long black nails clacked the keyboard. Her furious typing told him something bad was going to happen!
“Forty-one, from Cape Town — Perfect —written books all his life — stolen them more like.” Xenia mused. Switching websites, she delved deeper.
Every time she learned something new it infuriated her further. His books had all been published in the last year. Almost every title was familiar to Xenia. As an avid reader, she’d read several as published by other authors. Others still she’d featured on her blog of author interviews. The last revelation left her chilled to the bone.
“Scumbag! You’ve been using my blog to choose your victims!”
One more search did it. Xenia rose from her chair with her half-moon glasses on the edge of her nose. She peered at an address on the screen with owlish malice in her violet eyes. “See you soon, Gordon!”
A full moon cast silver light upon the Cape Peninsula. The landscape from Table Mountain, to the smaller Devil’s and Lion’s head peaks surrounding the city, took on a near fantasy appearance.
Gordon Clark was an obese bloke suffering from male pattern baldness. Despite the heat of the night, he still had on his ugly mustard sweater and waistcoat as he took two bags of groceries from his car.
Something moved in the shadows as he walked to his Manenberg District home. His like most was a two-story, two-bedroom terrace with a red tiled roof.
With some effort, he unlocked his front door and deposited his load. Wheezing for breath, he left the door ajar so he could return to his car for another bag. The smell of jasmine infused with witch hazel tickled his nose.
Not seeing the source, he ignored it as he went indoors for the night. ‘Can’t be too careful!’ he mumbled while locking the door.
From behind the musty sofa, Xenia watched Gordon put his food away — eating six doughnuts and a chocolate muffin in the process. ‘Disgusting pig!’ she muttered to herself.
Gordon made coffee for himself. He sniffed the foreign scent but again ignored it as he headed upstairs to his bedroom.
Xenia followed on tiptoes. Her heart near-exploding through nervous adrenalin coursing through her veins, she made it to the bedroom door unseen.
Peering in, she watched him sit at his laptop to check his emails. Several got deleted without opening. Harold switched tabs to a website called: IndieAuthorPublishingHouse.SA.COM. “Whoop I made another four hundred Rand today!” he cheered spilling coffee on his belly.
Xenia felt a vein popping on her forehead. “Wrong! You stole it, you plagiarising pig!” she seethed. Leaping onto the bed, she slammed her heel against his skull.
Gordon managed a small squeal of fear as the impact snapped him against the chair. A second kick left him sleeping on his keyboard.
“Gotcha, now to move you,” Xenia heaved the girthy man upright on his swivel chair so she could push him.
At the top of the stairs, she breathed a quick, “Good luck!” and tipped him headlong down the flight. Each bump and crash made her cringe, but she felt no remorse — he deserved it.
Joining him with the chair she grinned, “You didn’t miss a step, did you?”
The unconscious plagiariser lolled against the wall, his feet up the first two steps.
Somehow, Xenia hefted him back into the chair. “A diet wouldn’t kill you!” she grumbled as she pushed him back outside into the moonlight.
“We’re going on a little trip!” Xenia told his unconscious man as she slammed the trunk shut on him. “Part one complete.” She mused as she drove steadily out of the city.
“Whaaa! Where am I?” Gordan yelped as his consciousness returned. His arms were tied behind him. He couldn’t move his legs an inch either. A tremble shook his jowls as sweat dripped off his chin.
“How’s the head?” Xenia asked as she poured a grey slurry crawling with cockroaches around him. She’d gotten him in a large metal drum before burying him up to his waist in the ammonia-rich sludge.
“What the hell is this?” Gordon blinked rapidly. “Am — Am I in a cave?”
“A Natal long-fingered bat cave to be precise.” Xenia indicated some of the leathery winged creatures zipping about in her flaming torch light. She loved how that looked enormous in the shadows upon the limestone walls.
“What are you doing?” he yelled his voice echoic in the narrow rocky space.
“Remember the line, ‘Plagiarist boiled up to his gonads in bat guano!’ Xenia added one more shovel of the gunk to the drum; pressing it tight around his nether regions.
Despite a cockroach crawling on his face, Gordon grinned, “Yeah, I wrote a cracker there didn’t I?”
A sharp crack echoed around the tunnel. “Thieving liar!” Xenia yelled while massaging her sore hand. “I’m Xenia Xavier; the author you stole that book from.
“I didn’t, I —” the man squirmed, a handprint glowing on his cheek.
“Don’t deny it,” Xenia began placing branches around the drum.
“So, what – ahh – if I borrowed it?” Gordon shook his head as the insect tried to penetrate his eye.
“It’s called plagiarising. Stealing another author’s intellectual property.” Xenia scowled.
“So, call the police or lawyers. You can’t deal with it like this!” he said between whimpers.
“Nah, that’d take too frickin long. Besides this is more fun,” Xenia took her torch with a dancer’s flourish. With an excited sigh, she touched it to her kindling, igniting the branches.
Flames erupted around the drum causing shadow demons to dance around the cave.
“Ahhh! What the hell are you doing?” Gordon shrieked.
“You loved my line so I’m giving it to you,” Xenia grinned at him.
“I’m boiling you up to your gonads in bat guano. Apt punishment for you stealing mine and my colleagues’ books you, fat, plagiarising, pig!”
“No, please let me go!” Gordon begged, he was sweating profusely now; his legs were getting quite toasty.
A plume of stinking smoke issued from the fire thickening the air as it billowed toward the exit.
“Fine,” Xenia cut his arms free. She handed him his laptop with a plan in mind, “You delete everything you stole. Email all the authors to apologise. Then donate the money you stole to charity. Do that before you cook and you go free.”
“Do it, or boiled balls. Your call,” Xenia grinned at her evilness. This was too much fun.
Gordon tapped away for a few minutes before shrieking. “Argh! My feet are burning!”
“Hurry up then!” Xenia tapped her fingernails together with an uncaring smirk.
He worked faster deleting the books first, then transferring the money. All the while whimpering and sweating all over his keyboard.
“Bet you’re losing weight in there,” Xenia commented.
“And my bloody legs!” Gordon fired off his emails. “I’m done. I’m freaking done! Argh, please, let me out!” he cried.
Xenia poured water over the flames creating a powerful hiss of steam. With all her strength, she heaved the drum onto its side with a splat.
The plagiariser crashed onto the guano-covered stone floor of the cave. “T-thank y-you!” he stammered as he pulled himself free of the steaming sludge.
Xenia felt giddy with joy at how red his naked legs were right up to his groin. She really had boiled his gonads in guano. “Now, you’ve undone the damage you caused, I’ll set you free.” She chucked his trousers and boxer shorts at him. “Go to the police — I boil your gonads clean off. Steal from me or other authors again — I’ll boil your balls off. Get it?”
“I get it!” Gordon turned to face her but she was already gone into the night like a witch having exacted her vengeance.
Xenia returned to her writing with a sense of justice served. She never saw the plagiarising, pig again — I wonder why?
Thanks for reading my friends.
Have a great day!