View Full Version : The Writer's Marathon
03-19-2012, 09:47 PM
I’m sure you’ve heard by now that April is writing month on RPA! We have some fabulous writers on the forum who never cease to amaze and impress… But are you ready for the ultimate test of endurance and creativity?
RPA proudly presents…
The premise is simple. Every day in April, we will post a new topic for you to write about. You will then have 48 hours to submit a writing of any kind to the contest (see rules below for guidelines and restrictions). Complete the marathon by giving us a piece of writing for each day’s topic and win an award!
~Your work may be any format that you like or prefer. Fiction. Poetry. Non fiction. Song. Personal account. Commercial. And it can take any form you like! It can be paragraphs, stanzas, rhyming or free style. Whatever! And you can switch it up from day to day.
~Submissions will be posted in this thread! So let’s keep the extra chatter to a minimum, yes?
~Submissions must be at least 250 words in length. That’s easy! You can totally do that! And they have to be your own work that you did just now. Copy/pasting from another website, or from an rp or short story you’ve written before is naughty and you shouldn’t do it.
~Even though you have 48 hours to submit the writing for a particular topic, there will be a new theme each day. That’s okay! You can keep writing your submission for April 1st and submit it on April 2nd, even though there is a new topic, and then still participate in the topic for the 2nd! Make sense?
~There can and might be multiple winners! If no one completes the entire month, we’ll award first place to the people who completed the most topics. We’ll give some extra rep to the second and third placers, too, so if you miss a day or two, don’t give up! Plus we've got an extra prize or two for those who participate in certain predetermined days!
April 1: The Legend of the Yellow Thong (closed!)
Participants so far: SmileyCassandra, the informative gangsta, Jake, Old Gregg, Elkay, Leoni Green, Sparrowhawk, SpeckieBen
April 2: Parrots (closed!)
Participants so far: the informative gangsta, Old Gregg, SpeckieBen, Sparrowhawk, Elkay, Childish Gambino, Leoni Green
April 3: April Showers (closed!)
the informative gangsta, Sparrowhawk, Old Gregg, Elkay, Leoni Green, SpeckieBen, Childish Gambino
April 4: My Childhood (closed!)
the informative gangsta, SpeckieBen, Elkay, Childish Gambino, Leoni Green, Old Gregg, loveandsunshine
April 5: When I grow up, I want to be... (closed!)
Old Gregg, Elkay, SpeckieBen, Childish Gambino, Leoni Green, the informative gangsta, loveandsunshine
April 6: Song (closed!)
the informative gangsta, Elkay, Old Gregg, Childish Gambino, Leoni Green, SpeckieBen, loveandsunshine
April 7: Dance (closed!)
Old Gregg, Elkay, the informative gangsta, Leoni Green, Childish Gambino, SpeckieBen, loveandsunshine
April 8: Colour (closed!)
Elkay, the informative gangsta, Childish Gambino, SpeckieBen, loveandsunshine, Leoni Green, Old Gregg
April 9-10: WATER BREAK! No writing!
April 11: A bump in the night (closed!)
the informative gangsta, Elkay, Childish Gambino, Leoni Green, Old Gregg, SpeckieBen
April 12: Peace (closed!)
Elkay, the informative gangsta, Old Gregg, Leoni Green, Childish Gambino, SpeckieBen, loveandsunshine
April 13: The letters I sent you... (closed)
the informative gangsta, loveandsunshine, Childish Gambino, Elkay, SmileyCassandra, Old Gregg, Leoni Green, SpeckieBen
April 14: The moon (closed)
loveandsunshine, Elkay, SmileyCassandra, the informative gangsta, Old Gregg, Leoni Green, SpeckieBen
April 15: Go outside or stay inside? (closed)
loveandsunshine, the informative gangsta, Elkay, Old Gregg, Childish Gambino, Leoni Green
April 16: A Mr. E Solved Adventure (closed!)
Childish Gambino, Extraordinaire, Elkay, the informative gangsta, SmileyCassandra, Old Gregg, Leoni Green
April 17: A day in the life of an adrenaline junkie (closed)
the informative gangsta, Elkay, Old Gregg, SmileyCassandra, Childish Gambino, loveandsunshine, Leoni Green
April 18: Zen and the Art of Washing Your Llama (closed)
theinformative gangasta, Elkay, Old Gregg, Childish Gambino, Leoni Green, loveandsunshine, SmileyCassandra
April 19: Fairies (closed)
Naraness, Elkay, Old Gregg, Childish Gambino, Leoni Green, the informative gangsta
April 20: The last page of her diary. (closed)
the informative gangsta, Baseball Goddess, Childish Gambino, Old Gregg, Elkay, Leoni Green, loveandsunshine
April 21: A hero's feat (closed)
the informative gangsta, , Elkay, Childish Gambino, Old Gregg, Leoni Green, loveandsunshine
April 22: Discovery (closed)
Elkay, the informative gangsta, Childish Gambino, Old Gregg, Leoni Green
April 23: Why Anne Forgot... (closed)
the informative gangsta, Elkay, Childish Gambino, Old Gregg, Leoni Green
April 24: A day in the life of a worm (closed)
Childish Gambino, Elkay, Old Gregg, the informative gangsta, Leoni Green
April 25: What Caused the Blue Tornado (closed)
Elkay, the informative gangsta, loveandsunshine, Childish Gambino, Old Gregg, Leoni Green
April 26: The people at the bus-stop (closed)
Childish Gambino, Elkay, Old Gregg, Leoni Green
April 27: The Best Method for Firing a Nazgul (closed)
Elkay, Old Gregg, Leoni Green, Childish Gambino
April 28: Unicorns (closed)
Elkay, Childish Gambino, Old Gregg, Leoni Green
April 29: The day everyone went outside for bird sighting. (closed!)
Elkay, Childish Gambino, Old Gregg, Leoni Green
April 30: 30. The one I love (closed!)
Elkay, Childish Gambino, Old Gregg, Baseball Goddess, Leoni Green, the informative gangasta
KEEP GOING, RPA! FINISH STRONG!
04-01-2012, 05:59 AM
SmileyCassandra presents, a funny poem for the first of April.
The Legend of the Yellow Thong.
Once upon a time, when everything was sweet,
there was never anyone that would try to tweet,
There was only simple things like walking by feet,
and there always being people to know and meet.
No I'm just messing that would be to damn insane,
who wouldn't tweet? Where is my darn little brain?
This is a legend, a silly and crazy legend to contain,
about a girl and her insane never ending butt pain.
This little story is the legend of the yellow thong,
though this little chat with you won't be all that long,
It started when she met her dear friend King Kong,
for starters that name he had going on was all wrong!
It was the day that King Kong asked her on a date,
she truly believed that meeting him had to be fate,
I didn't agree trying my best to get her to debate,
of course her petty feelings grew and it was to late.
They went to the park before dinner for a walk,
all they did was walk, make kissy faces, and talk,
Of course I was there having decided to only stalk,
watching them closely my eyes like a flying hawk.
I noticed that my friend Jen started walking funny,
laughing as she bent over to look at a little bunny,
My eyes widened at the sight I'm like "oh my honey!"
she started to look behind her and I decided to runny.
How stupid could she be to wear that yellow thing?
only held together by a frail little freaking string!
bloody hell if he knew what would the night bring?
I'm sure it would only end as a god forsaken fling!
He did find out of course, but not how I thought,
sitting under a tree to relax and her thong got caught!
When he saw it he got really angry and they fought,
because he found out the yellow thong was his he bought!
I know it sucks lol Sorry for bad words! *Runs away* Should I hide it? Lol since it has bad words? I do not wish for innocent eyes to see! XD I may edit this a little, if that is okay ^^
Ok, to carry on the poetic theme...
Legend of the Yellow Thong.
One stormy eve, in a dingy pub;
Three fishermen sat finishing up their grub,
When their plates where all clean, they sat back with small sighs,
And one fellow spoke, with a shine in his eyes,
sayying "Listen me' lads, and I'll tell you the tale,
Of a beast whose feats far surpass any white whale,
Or serpent, or shark, or Hydra that creeps,
Seeking their prey in the depths of the deep."
He took a deep breath, and called for a beer,
While the others sat riveted, pricking their ears,
What could this beast be, so fearsome, so strong?
If they thought they had any idea they were wrong.
"Twas a night quite like this," carried on the old man,
"And I sat in a boat like a rusty tin can
way out on the water, while it bucketed rain,
but I refused defeat as I cast out again
with my line, just praying to get a decent fish,
(you've not seen my wife when there's naught in her dish!)
So I sat, and I waited, and while I did so,
I remembered the words of a sailor I know,
Who had told me, in those waters there had been seen,
Something massive, and horrible, vicious and mean,
Never more than a brief glimpse of yellow, he said,
Then the witness would flee, lest they ended up dead,
And no sooner had this grim thought crossed my mind,
When I felt (and this I swear) a tug on my line.
I thought that was the end! I knew something was wrong!
Then I pulled up the hook, and on it.. a thong.
Twas' bright yellow and spongey, and made for a foot
Much bigger than either that I had to put
inside it, and after - no trace did I catch,
Of the monster that wore that huge thong, or its match.
And that is my story of death at my door.
The thong? No, I can't show you. Don't have it no more.
For in fear of the thing that was wearing that shoe,
I let it sink back into the deep blue."
The Legend of the Yellow Thong
Long ago, amongst the cracked and gray mountains lived a man whom had crafted the most powerful object ever known to man. The man who had crafted this bright shiny masterpiece had worn it himself and tried it out in a nearby forest. His strength was of that compared to a mountain troll, his speed was greater than a cheetah and his sight better than an owls. He punched his fist through the trunk of one of the tall evergreen trees that reached towards the blue sky. The trunk exploded and the tree went flying into another tree, which caused a large domino effect, tree after tree being knocked over.
But the man became very greedy with his new found powers. Pillaging the villages at the foot of the mountains, taking all the gold, food and women (The man was not particularly handsome, so the only way he could get a women, would of course, be to steal her). The man would take these objects up to his home on top of the mountains and would swim in the gold, feast on the food, and would brag to his women: "I am the most powerful man in the world! No man's thong is comparable to that of mine!"
Little did this man know that a kingdom, no more than a days journey to the east, was aware of what he had been doing. The king set his best alchemists and crafts men to work, to create an object even stronger than the mountain man's yellow thong of brutality. After several long nights spent sleeplessly, the alchemists and crafts men presented their answer to how to defeat the mountain man. So the king called forth his most trusted knight to wear this new object and to go up into the mountains to defeat the mountain man.
At the break of dawn the next morning, the knight set off. Traveling through, over, under and across the warped terrain of the mountains until he reached the top of one of the mountains. His eye caught a small wooden house on the mountain in front of him. The knight trekked over to the house. Once he reached the door he took his hand and rasped it against the cold, hard wood of the door. Silence was all that greeted the knight at first, until: A sound in the back of the house stirred, sounding like a man falling out of a bed. The next moment the door flew open and an older looking man with a scruffy grey beard stood there, glaring back into the eyes of the knight.
The knight told the man that the kingdom of Boxers had sent a warrant for the mountain mans arrest. The mountain man laughed at this and swung at the knight's head, but the effort was useless. The knight had caught the old man's first and snapped the old man's wrist. "Your yellow thong is nothing compared to my blue boxers of justice." The knight rang from behind his visor. With that he flung the old man as hard as he could, sending the old man soaring so far that within the next second he was only a speck against the blue sky.
The knight freed the women who had been imprisoned in the old man's house. Returned all the gold to the villagers along with whatever remained of the food. Once all had been set back in order, the knight started his trek back to the kingdom of Boxers, but the knight had an interesting thought cross his mind. Maybe, since I still have it, I could have a little fun.
04-02-2012, 04:35 AM
"The Legend of the Yellow Thong"
Jason Hillebrand. At my high school, this man was considered a God. I had first learned of his story my sophomore year of school when a good friend of mine had mentioned "The Legend of the Yellow Thong". All anyone had to do to make me ask what it was about, was to mention its title. Fascinated, I gawked at my friend Jimmy as he told me the tale of how drama club was never the same after the "yellow thong incident". I knew from the day of the legend's reveal to me that I just had to follow in Hillebrand's footsteps.
It was a humid day as Jimmy, Toby, Greg and I sat at the stone lunch tables outside the high school after drama practice. We were waiting for the track girls to come jogging around the corner in their tiny shirts and short-shorts as we laughed and chatted to kill time. This was our usual Wednesday routine. When the girls came around the corner, jogging, sweating, and looking focused, my friends and I couldn't help but stare. Their pony tails bounced, among other things, and their eyes darted quickly from us, to straight ahead, some making a great show of paying attention to everything but us.
"Whooo-eeey," Whispered Toby, stretching the collar of his shirt with one finger as if to let out all the building steam. "Them clothes are so itty-bitty, ya can see some of their thongs!" Greg rolled his eyes and turned his face elsewhere, saying exasperatedly, "You have no idea how redneck you sound some days." It was no secret that Greg wasn't exactly into women. But he sat with us anyway every Wednesday after drama club. He liked the company. Jimmy pointed toward one of the girls and spoke before Toby could retort and start arguing with Greg, "Ahaha, look, one of them is wearing a yellow thong." He looked over at me, asking, "You think they're trying to pull a Hillebrand, Chase?" I shook my head. "A what?" Toby's mouth gaped open and Greg laughed, "Oh that's rich. He doesn't know anything about The Legend of the Yellow Thong!" Jimmy leaned forward on the table, his palms flattened on it as his eyes widened. "DUDE, Jason Hillebrand is a fucking LEGEND here at CHS. He was in drama club just like us." He sat back and calmed down so he could tell his story. Toby and Greg nodded in agreement and listened. "Go on," I said. Being new to the school, I wanted to know as much about common school knowledge as possible. Being the new guy sucked when you didn't know anything.
Jim cracked his knuckles and smiled. "It happened six years ago. One of the greatest actors at CHS, a senior named Jason Hillebrand, auditioned for the part of the Mad Hatter for the Alice in Wonderland play they were doing. His audition was flawless and he was told by Mrs. Harper, the drama teacher at the time, that he had the part as soon as he was done auditioning. But a week later, when the list for who got what part was released, Jason had been cast as The Dorm Mouse instead and Bill Stephens had been cast as the Mad Hatter. Come to find out, Bill's father had bribed Harper to cast his son as the Mad Hatter. When Hillebrand found, he took it up with the principal, who didn't believe him. So the night of the play, Jason went completely overboard with his performance even though he only had a few lines. The last time he was on stage, he flailed his arms like a jack ass, singing, "Twinkle twinkle, little bat, everyone look at my crack!" and bent over real low to reveal that he was wearing a yellow thong. Harper was outraged and kicked him out of drama club, but it didn't matter. It was his last play and he was graduating anyway. Plus Jason had really stuck it to that bitch."
I gasped in surprise and guffawed. Toby and Greg were laughing, too. "That story never freakin' gets old!," Greg hooted. I raised a brow when the laughter died and asked, "Hey...but, like...I know Mrs. Harper retired a few years back, but doesn't she still attend every play?" Greg nodded. "Unfortunately." I squinted and huffed. "That really sucks...I don't think she should even be allowed to go. Aren't people still pissed at her for what she did to Jason?" Toby shook his head. "They suuure are. A few guys continued wearin' yellow thongs three years after Jason did. But then Mrs. Harper retired and the school threatened academic suspension to anyone who continued the tradition. Them teachers started crackin' down on the guys in Drama club to make sure they didn't pull a Hillebrand. Ain't no one done it in three or four years."
I drummed my palm against the table and lifted a hand, "Guys, you know what this means, right?" Greg looked horrified. "Oooohhh no. No no no no nononono noooo. We are NOT flashing yellow thongs during our performance of Grease." Jimmy and Toby both looked like they were on board. I tilted my head, trying to persuade Greg with, "So you think it's right for Harper to still be held in good standing with the school and to be allowed to go to CHS's plays and musicals every year?"
Greg resisted us as much as possible over the next week. But we eventually broke him down and he ended up agreeing, even though he was the most rational of us all and probably should have put his foot down and refused more. We were all cast as Danny's crew in the upcoming production of Grease, which was good for us. "Alright, we'll moon them at the same time right after the scene at the dance," Jimmy said as we gathered to make our plans. We'd bought four yellow thongs, and were ready for the play that was to come three days from now. Greg looked disgusted. "Ugh, you guys...we're going to be in so much trouble." I nudged his arm saying, "You're always saying how you don't believe in censorship. It'll be just like the movie...remember how the guys mooned the camera? We'll just be sticking to the original story, am I right?" Greg waved a hand. "Yeah, yeah, shut up. Just let me voice my disgust and embarrassment every once in awhile."
Jimmy had mentioned something about how the gym teachers were supposed to make all the performers prove to them they were wearing normal underwear before every play. They had to show them the waistband of their boxers or briefs. Toby shrugged. "We'll just wear the thongs under the boxers." Jimmy and I glanced over at Toby and said in unison, "You are a genius!" Greg laughed. "Jesus, we really are doing this, aren't we?" It was a thrilling experience to be planning to do something so rebellious. I smiled. "Yes. Yes we are."
I stood in line and watched those before me getting their underwear checked by Coach Jacobs. I was in the middle of singing "Summer Nights" with Jimmy when I realized I had forgotten to wear boxers over my thong. Jimmy noticed my worry and nudged me, raising an eyebrow. "You alright?" I shrugged. "Uh...it's no big deal." Before I knew it, it was my turn to get checked. I stood before the coach until he said, "Well, son, I'm gonna need to see your waistband." I grinned widely and said proudly, "I'm goin' commando, coach. I always do!" Jacobs looked perplexed and furrowed his brows, waving me through. "Well uh...make sure your britches don't fall down when you get onstage, Chase."
When the other guys made it through the line, they patted me on the back and couldn't quit laughing. "Oh my God, man, that was priceless!" said Jimmy. Even Greg couldn't stop laughing. "Well played, sah, well played," he said in a deep, over-exaggerated English accent. We were not usually troublemakers or, in Toby's words, shit-disturbers, but tonight was our night to be rebels. We all knew it and had embraced it by this time. "Fellas," I said, "It's time for us to pull a Hillebrand."
The play had been going swimmingly, and we spotted Mrs. Harper in the front row. She looked like a kid watching television, her eyes glued to the stage. Good. It meant she'd get a better look at our asses when we mooned her and all the rest of CHS. We knew the risks. We all knew what was coming. But how many times did people get to do something like this before they had to grow up and be all serious? It was our time tonight.
We danced, sang and had a ball, putting on our best performance before we were kicked out of drama for good. When the school dance scene was coming to an end, we hiked up our greaser jackets and yanked down our pants. Greg had a little trouble with his belt, but eventually bared his cheeks. He surprised us all by yelling, "FOR HILLEBRAND!" before bending over. "Get out Harper" was written across our asses as we stood together, showing off our yellow thongs. The roar of laughter overpowered the boo's of disapproval coming from the teachers and parents. We eventually pulled up our trousers and turned just in time to see Harper faint. "Holy shit," yelled Jim, pointing down at her as he laughed. "Let's get out of here, guys." We stuck around long enough to make sure she was alright then took off. We had accomplished what we'd set out to do.
After being suspended and serving several detentions, things seemed to go back to normal for us. We had been kicked out of drama club, but it was worth it as Harper had written a letter to the school saying that if this ever happened one more time, she was never coming back to another CHS play or musical ever again. "Too bad we can't do it next year to make positively sure that witch never comes back," Greg said at lunch on our first day back to school. A couple of guys approached our table. They were freshmen. "Hey, guys! We heard about what you did the other night!" The other guy laughed and said, "Yeah, me and Cal were talking about joining drama next year just to carry on the Legend of the Yellow Thong. Man, we just can't let that die...it's too good!"
And so, the legend continues...
04-02-2012, 04:35 AM
Sorry for the double post. Nothing to see here...
04-02-2012, 05:12 AM
The legend of the Yellow Thong...
Silence echoed around the tiny town of Teufort. Oh wait, that wasn't possible. Well, something was echoing around. It might not have been silence, but it wasn't nice. Hang on. Sounds like an alarm clock.
"LADIES, TIME TO GET UP!" Soldier burst into each of the 7 other bedrooms, bashing the doors down and smashing his toes in at the same time, since most of them were reinforced.
"Oh man!" Scout protested. "It's fricking 6am!"
"UP!" Soldier ordered. "NO EXCUSES, LADIES!"
Engineer rolled his eyes, leaning wearily on the wall as Pyro shuffled by, heading down to the dining room. "Ya know, some o'us ain't planning on workin' on a weekend, son. Ah know we're stuck 'ere for a few days, but we all got our own alarm clocks!" He paused for a moment, noticing that Pyro seemed to have gone to bed in his work uniform, then continued. "And whai don't ya start from the other end?"
Engineer was interrupted by a large squeal of pain.
"MEDIC!" Soldier had seemed to have broken his foot entirely on Spy's bedroom door. Medic though ignored him and joined Pyro in the dining room, where Demoman was serving breakfast.
Scout sniggered and Engineer rolled his eyes again.
"SON, WHY IS YOUR DOOR LOCKED?" Soldier barked.
Spy didn't answer.
"Soldier, are you stuck in capital letter mode or something?" Scout asked.
"It's called Capslock, boy..." Engineer tutted.
"ANSWER ME, YOU LITTLE FRENCH SISSY!" Soldier was about to kick the door again, then changed his mind. His foot seemed to be bleeding. And with Medic not being a morning person, he might have to wait until lunch time to get it fixed. Either way, Spy still wasn't answering.
Engineer rolled his eyes yet again, then opened the door manually, i.e. by using the doorknob.
Then he wished he hadn't.
"SPY IN YELLOW THONG! CANNOT UNSEE!" Soldier and Scout both screamed as they ran down the hallway, past the dining room, through the front door and out of the building. Engineer though just smiled.
"Hey, everyone! Come and see Spy in his yellow thong!" he grinned as he grabbed his prototype camera and started taking pictures.
04-02-2012, 01:41 PM
The theme for day 2 has been added! Remember, you can still enter day 1 for another 24 hours!
The entries so far are just fabulous, everyone. :)
04-02-2012, 06:42 PM
Must have more writings. Writings keep Anne happy and stop her from eating the newbs.
04-02-2012, 10:45 PM
I opened up the locker of Rachel DeMarco, Amy and Alex were surprised to see the object I had been obsessed over getting....was a thong.
“Gross,” Amy said.
“Nasty,” chimed in Alex.
“It's beautiful,” I sighed, "Just what I wanted." I took the thong and quickly tossed it into my backpack before we got caught. After all, stealing from a dead girl's locker is frowned upon in my school. I slammed the locker and took off giggling, followed by Amy and Alex.
Our town had a strange murder legacy. Well, actually it was more of suicide, since no murderer had been caught and all the deaths had been ruled as suicide.
Every two years, the girl who owned locker 218 would die. The girls were always ugly. Bad acne, flappy arms, fish eyes, just plain old unattractive. But after they had the locker...they changed. They became beautiful. Not just an "Oh, wow, she's actually pretty nice looking" but a full out makeover that would make Aphrodite jealous. The only thing is, as time progress, they seemed to get more...evil. Not in a typical high school drama queen way, but in a malicious, deadly way. Some people blamed it on the beauty. Said it went right to their head. Others had more interesting theories.
There had been a rumor about the lockers having a certain something in it that would give the girls their beauty. It was said to be possessed by some evil spirit that also drove the girls insane. After a month, 30 days of beauty, the girl would kill herself in the high school gym. The girl who would get the locker in the next two years would get a note saying 'Your Turn'. The teachers never found out who did it.
No one knew for sure WHAT was in that locker, but the police did admit to each one of the girls wearing a bright yellow thong. It couldn't have come back though. They buried it with their bodies. I don't care. I believed the yellow thong was what possessed each girl. And now. It was mine.
As soon as we reached my house, I darted up to my room.
"Ash, you aren't really putting that on, are you?" Amy called out.
I gazed at the thong in my hands. It radiated power. So much power... It's not like I wasn't pretty. I just wasn't pretty enough. Plus, I wouldn't let the power of the thong go to my head. I slipped it on, not thinking about washing it. Didn't want to lose it's power. I hiked up my pants as I rushed to the mirror. I frowned. I looked exactly the same. I leaned in closer to see my reflection. Suddenly my reflection grabbed me and yanked me into the mirror.
I screamed as I flew through the air, then hit the cold marble floor with a thunk. All around me I heard whispers.
"What's one doing here?"
"...for another to years..."
"...was stupid enough..."
"How did she find the...."
I shakily got up. "HELLO?" This had to be some kind of dream. Suddenly all the whispers spoke. I thought it was because of me, but suddenly a voice began to speak.
"Ladies," the voice creaked, "It seems we have another median. This was not of a sacrifice, but of this girl's foolishness. Therefore. you may get her. First spirit gains access to the mortal world. As usual, only one month is allowed." The voice said something in a different language, a mix of hissing and Russian. As soon as the words were uttered, a thousand glowing lights rushed at me, hitting me with a force so strong, it knocked me out.
Ashley woke up on her bathroom door, a smile plastered on her face. She sat up and stretched out her limbs, testing them. Oh, the joy of having a body! She heard frantic knocking on the bathroom door.
"Ashley! Are you okay?!" One girl asked. Alex.
Ashley opened the door, still smiling. "Never better," she said, her voice like broken glass. The two girls gasped at their friends new appearance. Amy turned as white as a ghost.
"It...it worked," she said, surprised, "H-h-how?"
"I got lucky," Ashley laughed. Amy and Alex shared a glance. Their friend's new laugh was psychotic, crazy-- and it scared them a little. "Now let's go," Ashley said, smiling a creepy smile, "I only have 30 days in this world and I want to make the most of it."
A parrot sat upon its perch,
Inside a cage, inside a shop,
Inside a city filled with people
that could never seem to stop;
Just for a moment, just to say hello,
Or maybe have a chat.
They thought the only words he'd know
would be 'hello,' and even that
They thought a feat better suited
to a cockatoo.
Well this parrot craved some company,
but what was he to do?
Then one day, in the city,
In the shop, next to his cage.
Something happened that might just free this parrot from his rage,
For beside him on the shelf
was placed a new exciting cage,
contained a female version of himself!
Oh how he'd waited for this day!
"Hello, mate," he began,
As he'd been taught so well to do,
But she turned to other way;
Didn't want to be talked to.
"Hello, mate," he tried again,
And she turned and caught his eye,
Inside it he could see that she
simply didn't know how to reply.
She'd never been taught?
He could scarce believe his eyes when he found this.
So he closed his squawking beak
and spoke to her with a pecked kiss.
And she pecked him back, though
Unfortunately not with love, but pain,
And the parrot retreated
to the corner of his cage,
feeling all alone again.
So if you have a moment,
just a second free a day,
take the time to visit the parrot,
in the city's pet shop's cage,
And he'll tell you (in his way)
All about this day,
When he finally got some company.
Only to wish that it would go away.
Bit silly, but there you go :)
04-03-2012, 12:22 AM
Are you tired of being lonely? Does it seem like no one cares about you anymore? How many times in the past month have you eaten dinner alone? If you have answered any of these questions, then I have just the fix for your miserable and desolate life; a parrot! Yes, you heard me, ladies and gentlemen. You need to get yourself a parrot!
Come on down to Beaky Betty’s Bird Barn and we can help you find a companion for a reasonable price. Now, you may be wondering, “Why a parrot? What can I gain from owning one of those?” Let me ask you this, loner; when was the last time you had a duet partner for karaoke? Exactly. A parrot makes the perfect singing partner.
In fact, Parrots are perfect for so many things! With a parrot you can: Successfully fill that empty corner in your home. Have a conversation. Tie a string to its leg and let it fly around while you pretend it’s a kite. Gossip about the latest town news. Teach it to shout obscenities at random passerby’s. Play Angry Birds: Live-Action Edition.
Forget dating sites and making small talk with potentially dangerous strangers at the grocery store out of desperation for friendship. Parrots are good company, they’re cheap to maintain and you can get them at a Beaky Betty’s Bird Barn store near you. Don’t suffer from loneliness any longer. Buy a parrot today.
They also make great centerpieces.
(Wrote mine in the form of a commercial, in case ya couldn't tell. XD)
04-03-2012, 12:34 AM
The Legend of the Yellow Thong
I run through the forest until my lungs are burning and my legs feel like jello. I fall into a tree, completely exhausted. With the last ounce of energy in my body I hoist myself up into the tree for shelter of the dangers below. Once at a decent height I relax against the trunk and feel myself giving in to the lust of sleep. A loud roar echos through the night and I feel the tree shake as something rather large walks past me without noticing my presence in the tree. I regain my balance and drift off into the darkness of the night.
I wander through a glowing meadow and brush my hands over the tops of the grass as I approach a treasure chest. I reach to open it but as I do so it shocks me and I jump back. Rubbing my tingling hand I look around for something to pry open the chest. When I turn back to the chest empty handed, I am greeted by emptiness. Everything begins twisting and the glow disappears as I fall through the ground into a white room filled with boxes everywhere but no windows or doors. I land on my feet and the shock paralyzes me momentarily. I try to find balance by leaning onto a box but end up pushing it over instead.
The box spills its contents as it hits the ground. Ribbons of all different colours.. no. Thongs of all colours fall everywhere and I gaze at them as one pair in particular begins to glow insanely. Picking it up makes the glow dim and the true colour is reveled. Yellow.
Holding the thong, my surroundings change back to the meadow and I am standing in front of the open treasure chest. The thong is inside of the chest and a shadow is standing behind it, smiling. "Find me.. find me and find absolution.."
I bolt upright as I awaken from my dream. "The heck.." I feel myself sliding to the side and before I can catch myself I fall from my branch. Falling past several branches I reach out and finally grab one before hitting the ground. My arms strain as I try to hold myself up. Another roar passes by in the night and I tense as I feel the tree begin to shake once more. I am shaking violently when whatever released the roar passes by. It stops right below the tree and I can hear it breathing when one of my hands lets go and then the other right after. Landing on my feet, I fall onto my knees but quickly stand back up and face the monster.
Its huge. Brown and blocky. I scream and turn tail, sprinting as fast as I can away from it. In less then a moment I am overtaken by the monster as it grabs me in its hand, raising me up and looks at me. Frozen in fear I go completely still. Roaring once more I close my eyes and prepare for death when suddenly, the unexpected happens. It places me on its shoulder and continues walking. I balance myself and remain still, unsure of what is happening. The creature then makes a low growl that sounds like a rock slide. Strangely enough I understand it. "You have been looking for me? Why though?" I ask the creature as if it's the most natural thing in the world. It replies with another low growl. "The shadow asked you to find me? You mean the shadow from my dream?!" It growls in confirmation. Find me.. find me and find absolution. I smile, absolution.
It is mid day by the time we stop walking and arrive in front of the glowing meadow from my dream. The creature helps me down and then turns away and walks back towards the forest. I yell my thanks to it then begin my search for the chest in the meadow. The entire time I search for the chest with the yellow thong in it I see as if I am walking on air. Absolution, such a wonderful promise. Finally, I am upon it. As I reach for the lid I remember the shock that turned me away in my dream. Very cautiously I touch the lid, nothing. I let out a sigh of relief and open the chest to reveal my prize. The yellow thong.
I lift the thong out of the chest and smile at the air, only then the air smiled back. I let out a small yelp as the shadow appeared and continued to smile at me. "Congratulation, you have found me. Once you wear the yellow thong you will be a legend." My jaw drops open, "You mean I have to actually wear these? But I'm a guy!" The shadow laughs as it disappears into nothingness. I facepalm, "I knew this was to good to be true.." Reluctantly, I end up putting on the thong.
Walking throughout the meadow I feel at ease, despite the small discomfort in my pants. I fall onto my back in the grass and laugh to myself. "This'll be one for the books." I tell myself. I look over to my side and see the shadow smiling at me. "Call it, The Legend of the Yellow Thong." I smile back at it then close my eyes and the the darkness engulf me.
I blink several times before opening my eyes and stare blankly at the ceiling. I sit up fast and look around, I am in my room again. "A dream.." I rub my eyes and sigh, it felt to real. I kick off the blankets and stand up infront of the mirror. Looking at myself dread fills me. "Wasn't a dream.." To my horror, I am wearing the yellow thong.
04-03-2012, 12:52 AM
LEGEND OF THE YELLOW THONG!
There was a troll who lived under a bridge, though his bridge was made out of grey stone and so he pondered upon the ways he may brighten up his humble abode. He thought of collecting leaves, but he realised that this would only upset the trees. He thought about collecting mud, but this would upset the ground. He thought about collecting the blue water, but then he realised it wasn’t blue, because this is England and the rivers here are boggy and full of crap washed into them by the constant RAIN.
Anyway needless to say reader it was pretty obvious that the troll wasn’t the brightest troll, as neither trees nor the ground has feelings and so the troll should have simply taken from them to add the decoration he so wanted to his home.
The troll though could not cause harm to anyone and so he continued to think of the best ways in which he could brighten up his life. All of a sudden an idea popped into his head. He would ask the billy goats for their help. They always chewed on colourful things.
“Hello there mister billy goat” said the troll. The goat was so startled by the sudden appearance of the troll that it inhaled what it was chewing with a gasp of horror and began to choke. Feeling rather awful the troll rushed to the goat and patted it on the back to make it cough up the item. However he just ended up breaking the goats back, killing the creature.
However there’s a silver lining reader don’t fret, because as the goat fell lifelessly to the ground out of its mouth came a very moist yellow thong.
04-03-2012, 01:02 AM
Parrots rhyme with carrots,
And carrots are orange.
Orange rhymes with fuck all,
And fuck all rhymes with muck stall.
Muck stalls don’t exist,
because selling muck’s stupid.
Stupid rhymes with cupid,
There’s a song about it.
Songs are sung by glee groups,
I’m in one.
One plus one is two,
You learn something every day.
You go to school to learn,
But you also go there to colour in.
My friend takes advanced colouring at university,
Is also known as Geography.
Biffy says he’s the mountain,
But then changes his mind and says he’s the sea.
There are 7 seas,
Everybody’s looking for something.
Some people might be looking for a pet,
I heard parrots are good pets.
Why are Parrots good pets?
Because they repeat things.
Here’s an example:
Parrots rhyme with carrots,
And carrots are orange.
Orange rhymes with fuck all,
And fuck all rhymes with muck stall.
Muck stalls don’t exist,
because selling muck’s stupid.
Stupid rhymes with cupid,
There’s a song about it.
Songs are sung by glee groups,
I’m in one.
One plus one is two,
You learn something every day.
You go to school to learn,
But you also go there to colour in.
My friend takes advanced colouring at university,
Is also known as Geography.
Biffy says he’s the mountain,
But then changes his mind and says he’s the sea.
There are 7 seas,
Everybody’s looking for something.
Some people might be looking for a pet,
I heard parrots are good pets.
Why are Parrots good pets?
Because they repeat things.
Here’s an example...
04-03-2012, 02:28 AM
Will you sing with me?
Will you fly with me?
Will you carry me?
Will you take me away?
Will you soar with me?
Will you help me through?
Will you comfort me?
Will you love me?
Will you sing to me?
Will you fly for me?
Will you carry me through?
Will you take me with you when you leave?
Will you soar for me?
Will you help me make it?
Will you comfort my sorrows?
Will you love me?
Will you be my only?
Will you keep your promises?
Will you dance with me?
Will you hold me?
Will you believe me?
Will you trust me?
Will you care for me?
Will you love me?
Will you by my one and only?
Will you never break your promises?
Will you be there to dance with me?
Will you never let you hold of me go?
Will you always believe in me?
Will you forever trust me?
Will you be able to care for me?
Will you love me?
Will you never leave?
Will you write for me?
Will you kiss me?
Will you be gentle with me?
Will you want me?
Will you marry me?
Will you love me?
Will you never leave me alone?
Will you write your love for me?
Will you kiss me tenderly?
Will you hold me gently?
Will you want me tomorrow?
Will you say “I do”?
Will you love me?
Will you be more then friends?
Will you be my
P A R R O T
04-03-2012, 05:11 AM
"Gargh, m'hearties!" Elkay grinned as he waved his plastic sword around, climbing up his canister. "T'day, we be sailing the mighty seas!"
Kohrak rolled his eyes. "Lehvak, what on earth are you talking about?"
Elkay tutted. "Just because you don't want to be called Kaykay, doesn't mean you can keep on calling me Lehvak. Anyway, today, I'm a Pirate!"
"A pirate?" Gahlok asked. "Is that a human thing? I don't like human things. They're scary."
"Humans aren't scary!" Nuhvok laughed. "They're tall and fairly smart, but they're all squishy. Like the nonutonium liquids we're born from. With a few bones thrown in."
Gahlok shuddered as Lehvak, or Elkay, your choice, zipped by, still waving his sword. "Even so, that stuff on their heads is scary. It's all tentacle-y!"
"C'mon, Gahlok. That 'hair' is dead stuff. It isn't going to grab you and drag you away!" Lehvak grinned, still waving his sword, then pausing and adjusting the tiny eyepatch he had found from somewhere. "I heard that your stereotypical pirate often wears a lot of heavy metal objects such as pistols and stuff, and many had wooden pegs to replace missing limbs. Also, they often had some sort of bird with them."
"A bird?" Gahlok squirmed. "I hate them too! Those feathers! And the beaks! They'd peck us to death!"
Pahrak took Gahlok by the hand and sat him down. "You shouldn't be so scared, Gahlok. You have magnetic powers. You're also made of an organic plastic that is far harder than flesh. Why are you so scared?"
Nuhvok and Lehvak both grinned. Kohrak rolled his eyes again. "You're just a wimp."
"Aw, don't be cruel..." Lehvak smiled. "Ignore him, Gahlok. Or, alternatively, piss him off by calling him Kaykay."
"Call me Kaykay and I will rip you in half, magnetic powers or not. And don't call me that behind my back either. I have supersonic hearing."
"So, er..." Gahlok hesitated. "Where's Tahnok?"
"He's getting a parrot."
"It's a bird..."
Lehvak was interrupted by shouts coming from one of the passages. "Hm, I think he's here."
Tahnok burst into the room, screaming as thirty parrots chased after him.
"Yeah, he's definitely here..." Kohrak sighed.
04-03-2012, 04:52 PM
April 3rd has been added, and April 1st is now closed! Remember, you can still submit your entries for Day 2!
04-03-2012, 05:11 PM
Drip drip drop goes the april showers, but NO ONE LIKES BAMBI! I don’t care if his mother died, he had friends, he got to go ice skating, he had a cool tattoo (okay some may call it a fur pattern BUT HE MAY HAVE SECRETLY BEEN GANSTER).
And what do I have? I have nothing, I tried to get my eyebrow pierced but Mr. Jarvis, A.K.A. Dad, said that unless I took it out right away he’d use the loop to thread some cord through and tie the chord to a tree, leaving me there for days until I did as I was told.
So you see now that it’s April and my sixteenth birthday is just days away. I’ve been planning the coolest birthday party ever, I was going to have go-carting and paintball and maybe even a swimming pool. Mum did say I could have anything I wanted after all.
But then my stupid sister had to ppe up and demanded that she wanted to come too, and apparently paintballing is child friendly, nor is go karting, and mum says we can go to the swimming baths but we go there every Sunday with my friends anyway so why would I want to do that?
So mum in a fit of rage has now decided that I’m going to have a Disney party and I can like it or lump it because it’s what my sister wants. And she’s dressing up as BAMBI!
I wish I could be the hunter and shoot bambi and his mother.
At least it’s not raining... Oh wait, I just looked outside, fuck.
04-03-2012, 08:01 PM
I hate that I already missed the first topic!!!!!!!
Ed's take on parrots
Ed:I hate parrots I really do.
Neil: How do you hate parrots.
Ed: It's easy just look at them. If they had human faces I'd punch them.
Neil: I hate it when yo do this. Like an idiot I'm always dragged into these insane rants of yours.
Ed: And yet you do every time and I think you will agree with me this time. I hate that people have them. They were so bright and colourful. It's like someone has a glowing rainbow in their homes. Oh no, not a rainbow but a glowing one. why would you want to wake up to that?
Neil: Not all Parrot types are like that. What about that one parrot. The white one with the how feathers on its head that can make those fuckers rise and drop like a sail on it's head. Those are a some white, with that bit of yellow of course.
Ed: I hate those ones too but for a different reason. Have you ever seen those types of parrots in reality their huge. Their like owl size and not barn owls but the gangsta 'dont screw with me or I'll kill your whole family and vomit the bones out' owls and you're not allowed to just have those. And yet you're allowed to just have parrots. Then there's the fact that they can live pretty much as long as we can live. Oh that one always does me in. Imagine being your kid a flashy rainbow that never shuts up, there's no hoping it will die one day because get this the damn thing will live longer than you bloody will!
Neil: What are you on about now?
Ed: Parrots, the damn things live longer than we bloody do. That's not how pets are supposed to do.
Ed: No you ass, live longer than their owners. Imagine this you're horribly old on your death bed, your kids and your grandkids all around you. Your time is nearly up, you've been in the hospital a long time. So they have made your room more 'comfortable' so they added plants and your damn parrot, which is still very much alive, son of a bitch.
Neil: You're losing your point...
Ed: Sorry. Any way what I was trying to say was your on your death bed about to die and just as you're dying there's that damn bird squawking it's ass off and yelling things you and your wife did together in bed. "Not the Ass Neil, for the last time not the ass!"
Neil: No, only the people who own parrots are morons. Think about it. The things are built to fly and what do birds owners do, they clip the things wings. "It's for their own good." Who's good? Theirs are you kidding me? think about it what are we put on their world. Eating, boning and staying alive. How much of that is the parrot allowed to do in a cage? Even a dog gets a walk. Prehaps if the bird isn't coming back then it's most likely for a reason.
Ed: You're an idiot.
Neil: A right idiot. A right idiot.
04-03-2012, 08:31 PM
Ok. I made a poem in school. I suck eggs at poetry, but I want to enter everyday and I want to shake it up. So here.
Anna and the Parrot
Anna turned 7 in May
It was such a glorious day,
She had family and friends
(With rich dividends)
Who threw her a party, Hooray!
The pizza flavor they had was carrot
Meat lovers had to grin and bear it
And when it was present time
The gifts were sublime!
And someone gave Anna a parrot.
"Parrots? That's like totally ew!
I might even catch that thing called Bird Flu.
She abandoned the bird,
No one said a word,
But the bird knew just what to do.
When it become the midnight hour
The bird started to glow with power
He flew to where Anna stayed
Peacefully in bed, she laid.
He cawed and she woke up, feeling sour.
"Oh no!" she cried "It's you!
What are you going to do?
Peck out my eyes?
Make me die?
I'm sorry I left you! Boohoo!"
The parrot had no sympathy for brats
He even preferred nasty rats
He flew towards the child
Sent her into the wild
"Stupid bird. Where are we going?" she spat.
He then took her to his home
Where parrots are free to roam
She was in great awe
and let out a caw
And her mouth began to foam
Feet? Claws! Arms? Wings!
Mouth? A beak! Anatomy? Parrot things!
The parrot watched her transformation,
all while feeling the same sensation.
The parrot, now a girl, began to sing
"Have fun here dear, you had your chance!
I'm now a girl! I can walk and dance!
For the rest of your days you shall be like me
A bird, life in misery.
Goodbye Anna! Thanks for the pants!"
And so the bird returned as a girl
Living her out her life in the human world
Anna is still a bird
Living on the island, she is not heard
Anna flies in the night, making swirls.
I wonder if I can do a poem for every topic?
Once there was a girl, born in the autumn,
(You must remember, she comes from a land down under)
So rather than the fourth month being green and awesome,
She was born in a season sometimes filled with thunder,
And so she was given the namesake of the month,
When she entered this world - "It's our April," mum said,
She had eyes of sweet green, like the summer had been,
And a cascade of dark brown hair upon her head.
As she grew, she grew prettier than all the flowers,
But one fatal fault made her ridicule's slave,
She said 'every year I stand out in April showers,
So what need is there for me to also bathe?"
Though her mother beseeched her, she would not listen,
It did not affect her that others were mean,
She ignored the stench that followed her faithfully,
Ignored the fact that others were clean.
So this girl was quite lonely, although she denied it.
And never once in her whole life did she wash.
Truth be told - she was scared - she'd never tried it.
When she thought of the feel of hot water - my gosh!
It would bring her out in goosebumps, trembling so,
That her mother could not bear to force her into it.
She only lamented her daughters' potential,
to be a real beauty, if only she knew it!
Then one day our April met a new boy at school,
Blonde headed and blue eyed and sweet beyond measure.
He was so kind, so instantly popular, so cool,
But personal hygeine was something he treasured,
So he refused to speak to her, unable to stand,
the smell that rose off her when she stood to close.
And April, for some time, could not understand,
Why she couldn't be near the one she wanted most.
Then it struck her, one day as she looked at her reflection,
And the dirt stains and smudges that covered her face,
Together, the two of them could be perfection,
But if that was what she wanted, she'd have to change.
So she took a deep breath and went to the bathroom,
And summoning up every inch of her willpower,
She turned on the tap, undressed, picked up the soap.
And finally, love let April shower.
04-04-2012, 04:47 AM
Broken and torn
Lost and pathetic.
Wicked and sadistic
You are really sick.
You smile at my pain
and laugh as I scream.
Blood dripping down my face
while pains shoots to an extreme.
Broken and torn
Lost and pathetic.
Wicked and sadistic
You are really sick.
My eyes losing sight
my body going numb.
You chuckle like its all a joke
even though it is truly gruesome.
Broken and torn
Lost and pathetic.
Wicked and sadistic
You are really sick.
You grin and chuckle
i scream and cry.
Pain overwhelming by your hand
why won't you let me just die.
Broken and torn
Lost and pathetic.
Wicked and sadistic
You are really sick.
My mind fills with fear
tearing me to pieces.
You cut and slice
leaving me with more then bruises.
Broken and torn
Lost and pathetic.
Wicked and sadistic
You are really sick.
Imagine the world
all full of hate.
No one to love
never to find a soulmate.
Broken and torn
Lost and pathetic.
Wicked and sadistic
You are really sick.
I feel alone and hurt
but you enjoy my suffering.
If this is what you want
i will continue bleeding.
Broken and torn
Lost and pathetic.
Wicked and sadistic
You are really sick.
As long as you are happy
i will never question you.
I will take the torture
to let you know my love is true.
Broken and torn
Lost and pathetic.
Wicked and sadistic
You are really sick.
Through all the pain
through all the hurt.
I remember when you were happy
and always loved to flirt.
Broken and torn
Lost and pathetic.
Wicked and sadistic
You are really sick.
My tears will always flow for you
love giving me the power.
Power for me to let you know
My blood will be your
04-04-2012, 09:00 AM
"April Showers: The Battlefield"
Everything was covered in beads of clear liquid as it began to rain. The smell of fresh rain and death hung in the air. Not even the grass could hide us from our enemy, the rain. What started as a light drizzle grew progressively into a steady shower, eventually blanketing the ground in water. We had to take cover. Every drop was deadly, every wave and puddle, treacherous. No one was safe there in the war zone. Most of us hid under rocks or crawled onto the pavement. Our homes in the ground were being infiltrated and flooded out. Everywhere I looked, I could see my brave brothers in combat fighting for their lives, dodging every rain drop. A few of them were dragging tail. “If this were acid rain, the rookies would move much faster,” I thought. Oh, it was a blood-red day. The rain never brought anything good for us worms. Not a lot of us made it out of harm’s way the day it flooded in April. What the humans considered to be a small flood, we considered a disaster. It wasn’t enough for the rain to have drowned most of my brothers in combat, oh no. When the sun came out, most of them died due to drying up on the pavement, or being squished and tortured by the humans’ cubs that came after us with twigs and sticky hands to hurt us with. I am a survivor, thankfully. But we lost many a great soldier that day. Among my long, long list of enemies, after that fateful day, I have been forced to add April showers to the top of said list. If you ever have the chance, try your hardest to never be reincarnated and come back as a worm. Nothing about our lives are safe or easy. We worms have to be tough. Even against things that no one else think is a big threat to them. Watch out for those April showers, comrade.
04-04-2012, 09:59 AM
Phovos tutted as she sat by the back door, waiting for it to open. Dog-sized creature that she was, she couldn't quite reach up to open the door herself. Not did she even know how to open it. All she could do was paw at the door.
Finally, he came. Teekay, the little creature who looked after her. Her owner. Who was in fact no bigger than she was. But he was smart, far smarter than Phovos. He had the strange thing with three legs that he could stand on to reach the handle. He also had that creepy metal thing that he inserted into the door to make it open. Even if Phovos could reach the door handle, she would have never been able to open it. Not without the metal thing.
The door swung open, revealing the small, grassy field, surrounded by large, incredibly thin trees with no leaves on. At the back was the colourful metal thing that she could slide down. By the door was her favourite toy, an old, stuffed, amber and white striped cat teddy, its original colour long gone.
"Come on, Phovos, let's play on the slide!" Teekay wrapped the fabric-y bit of the metal thing around his wrist so he didn't lose it, then picked up the cat teddy and threw it towards the slide.
Phovos growled and leaped over to the slide, climbing up it in an attempt to catch the toy that sat on the top. Teekay smiled and followed the silly green creature, watching as she finally figured out how to climb up the ladder instead of slipping and sliding her way up the slide.
"Good girl..." He patted Phovos on the head, then paused. Droplets were falling from the sky.
Phovos stopped what she was doing and stared upwards, catching raindrops on her head. But all too soon, what was at first a light shower turned into a torrential downpour.
Teekay rushed inside, once again grabbing the stuffed toy. "Come on, Phovos! Get inside before it gets cold!"
She wasn't listening though. Phovos was too busy playing in the rain. But a second shout caught her attention, and finally Teekay managed to drag her inside.
"Don't worry, Phovos. These April showers will pass soon..." Teekay whispered as he rubbed Phovos's back with a towel. "Then you'll be able to play all day..."
04-04-2012, 09:53 PM
It started raining today. It rained all day. I failed my Calculus test, had to run the mile in Gym and lost my water bottle. What a great way to start off April... Hopefully tomorrow will be sunny.
When I woke up, it was still raining. Lilly, my tabby ran away today. I hate rain. Gram says it's just that time of year.
It's been raining nonstop. The weathermen say not to worry, we're fine. I'm not. Ryan left me for Clarissa.
It's still raining. Today was fine, except I spilled soup on my brand new shirt. Dry clean only of course.
I thought I lost you, diary. Guess what? It's still raining. The rain hasn't stopped for a moment. People are getting worried. Some claim that it's God Wrath. I say it's just April showers. But I hope it ends soon. My garden was flooded.
Still raining. My umbrella broke.
Joy, oh joy. I got a 70 on my math test. Summer school? Oh, and it's still raining.
The town is in panic. 14 days of nothing but rain?! Some people are leaving. It's a sign they say. My parrot decided to leave with them. I'll have to guard Simon, out dog.
The rain has gotten so much, that school is cancelled. I actually smiled today.
It wasn't Simon who left. It was Matt, my brother. I suppose since he's 18 he can make his own decisions. The rain was too much for him. Houses are getting flooded. I miss him.
Let the leaks begin. What kind of rain is this?
Twenty days of nonstop rain. I don't even notice it that much anymore. It's like the fact that it always rains is normal. I no longer use an umbrella. My neighbors left. They say our neighborhood is next.
My parents are gone. When I woke up, the house was empty. A foot of water was outside our door and it's leaking in the house. I took what I needed to the second floor.
Happy Birthday to me. I sit in my room, watching nothing but the news. Our town is flooded. The whole city is evacuated. They forgot me. What about me? Doesn't anyone care?
I'm on the third floor now. The second and first floors are filled with water. The third floor carpet is soaked from all the leaks. I swim in the water sometimes. I've gotten really good at holding my breath. Nothing to do but swim.
Simon drowned. I wait for the rain to wash away what's left of me.
Rain, rain go away. All that I can do is pray.
I think it will stop raining soon. It has to. I am no longer in my house. I left yesterday. I sit in a raft with some food, and you, journal.
It rained again. I couldn't sleep because my raft kept getting filled with water. I can't take the rain anymore.
No more rain. All of a sudden, it stoped. And the water just left. It was like some pulled a plug and the water drained out. Lilly, my tabby, came home. Goodbye April showers, hello May flowers.
04-04-2012, 10:41 PM
The theme for day 4 is up! Entries for day 2 - Parrots is now closed!
These things are looking great, guys and dolls. I'll update the list of entries tonight!
The following is all true. Wow, it felt good to get that out - I don't talk about this stuff much. Thanks for giving me a forum to do it in. Sorry if it's upsetting to anyone...
I don't remember much about my childhood, you know.
My memories almost completely blank 'fore eight years old.
But I remember when I turned three being given a tub of icecream.
Dad barely looked away a second and I'd licked the whole thing clean.
And I've been told a story from before I was two,
When I covered my twin sister, myself and my toys in poo.
And I recall a woman used to leave letters so small,
She said they were from fairies, and not from her at all.
Most vivid I remember the day I went to see her,
This woman I called mother, though she'd never really be her,
And I knocked on the door with a five year old hand,
To be told something that at that age I didn't really understand.
The woman who answered was not the one I'd always known,
She said the other had moved away, and this was now her home,
So for the next four years I wondered what had become of my mum,
Though I'd barely had her before, I'd have rathered that than none.
Then one day when I was eight, there was a knock on my front door.
And a lady standing there, with a baby I'd ne'er seen before.
She told me that she was my mother, and this baby was my brother,
Then my step mum slammed the door and wouldn't let me hear anymore.
She locked me in my bedroom until mum had gone away,
And though I don't remember much I will never forget that day.
It wasn't until I was twelve that I saw my mum again,
And it had been so long I couldn't even see her as a friend.
Probably for the better, since she soon dissapeared once more,
And I was back to feeling like I had no mother anymore.
So I grew up with my father, who was kind but oh so young.
He'd just been travelling the world when with two daughters he was sprung.
So when he met another woman, after mum had broke his heart,
I suppose he saw it as a way to make a new start.
But little did he know that though before him she would smile,
Behind closed doors she made it clear she hated his first child,
So I had an evil stepmother, like in my story books,
And I soon grew to fear her, and those hatefilled, evil looks,
Though I tried to tell my father that she made me eat outside,
And took away my teddies to give to her own child,
And stole my broaches to wear proudly on her own chest,
He told me 'you know i don't want to hear that,' when i finally confessed
how I'd been treated by her for most of my young life.
He loved her and he didn't believe she could cause me such strife.
But I have grown up stronger than many that I know.
And though my childhood was difficult, it's also helped me grow,
Into the person that I am today, and I like her a lot.
Coz she never tries to be anybody that she is not,
And she's strong and self sufficient, but she has never forgot,
That woman she called mother when she was just a tot.
So when I turned eighteen I tried to find out where she hid.
Unfortunately once I succeeded I wished I never did.
For that woman is now gone completely, absorbed by the wine,
That she drinks herself to sleep with and uses to pass her time.
But it's alright, nothing she does can ever reflect on me.
I just have a perfect example of everything I never want to be.
04-04-2012, 11:50 PM
You know when you look back on your childhood in those little spaces of time when nothing's really going on and you're bored shitless and think 'what the fuck was I doing sticking a crayon up my nose?... Did I ever take it out?" and then proceed to stick a casual finger up your left nostril just to check that 10 or even 20 years later there's no trace of your complete idiocy?
Well for Derek today was that day, he wiggled his finger around his nose hoping to find no trace of crayola...luckily for him he was safe... though he hadn't checked the right nostril just the left, however now he was getting stares off his class mates and before he looked even more ridiculous he decided to stop.
Why was he thinking of his childhood? Because that morning his little sister had stuck a crayon up her nose and had to get taken to hospital. He didn’t care about her as much as he probably should have if he was honest, especially as last weekend she had single handedly ruined his sixteenth birthday by making it Disney themed. Rumours had spread around the school and everyone now started pounding on desks when he walked into the room imitating thumper. It was a lame joke, but it still annoyed him.
However he just pressed on as usual, now trying to remember what happened to that crayon. Why do kids do that? He thought to himself puzzled. Humans are weird. However he just chuckled and pressed on... Well I guess that’s just childhood, or at least my childhood.
04-05-2012, 06:04 AM
Kohrak flicked through his logbooks, his mind wandering off, until he was distracted by a knock on the door.
"Who is it?" He hadn't expected anyone to come knocking on his door tonight of all nights, especially since the Queens were holding a banquet in honour of Ahvrak. Why, he didn't know.
The door creaked open. It was Tahnok. Who else would it be?
"Hi, bro. Didn't fancy the banquet?" Kohrak sighed.
"M'skotosan today. Didn't feel like going after a few hours in the rack." Tahnok stretched then sat down next to Kohrak.
"You mean you went to the Kato Meria? Why would they send you down to the farms?" Kohrak asked.
"I mean the rack. That human-medieval torture device..." Tahnok murmured, pointing to a small tear on his leg. "Pono a lot today."
Kohrak sighed again. "Well, you always know you're free to hide with me. Let me get you some protes voithies or something..."
Tahnok sniffed as Kohrak got up and rummaged around in one of the higher cupboards. "You know, I tell you about all my pain and dystyhia, but pote do you ever talk about your childhood..."
Kohrak blinked as he handed Tahnok a bandage. "You're right. I never talk about my childhood. But that's because I assume you already know about it..."
"Not really... For the first 3 years, I never saw you..."
"Well... Not much really happened... My childhood was pretty dull after that day..."
"The day you saved my life."
They both paused, before changing the subject slightly.
"Nothing really happened..."
"Something must have happened!" Tahnok interrupted. "You and the others had normal childhoods. I spent my days having the zoi kicked out of me! Every day, some new form of torture or experimentation. My childhood sucked!" A tear leaked out of his blue lens and dripped down Tahnok's face. "I'd love to know what it was like to have a normal childhood. It's bad enough us Bohrok rarely get an alithino childhood, let alone to spend it being tortured..."
Kohrak pulled his brother over and gave him a hug. "Calm down, Tahnok... You want to know the truth? My childhood was no better than yours. Even though the Queens didn't have me killed that day, they certainly made sure I'd suffer for a bit. The difference between you and me? Eventually, I grew up..."
Tahnok sniffed. "Yeah, I guess you're right... I am trying to grow up... I want to get into medical stuff and engineering and things, but with the Queens always beating on me..."
"Well, as I said," Kohrak smiled. "You're always welcome here, no matter what time. We were just unlucky, we ended up with a horrible childhood. But that doesn't mean we'll end up with a shitty life..."
04-05-2012, 10:11 AM
Ed: Damn winter's coming.
Neil: I hate winter.
Ed: You know all across the planet it's not winter. Things are cooling off, snows melting their clothing is jumping from thick heavy coats to skimpy ones showing off pale white skin.
Neil: God it's so pale, but you cant complain can you, an ass in a bikini is still an ass in a bikini.
Ed: Hell's Yeah man. Hell's Yeah.
Neil: you know, I hate to admit it but you've got to love a tanned body. It's pretty hot, but it has to be that fleshy tan, that shit woman do spraying themselves to get a tan or risking skin cancer to get a tan is just not hot. You ever seen those women? I mean seriously could they look any more screwed up?
Ed: yeah they do go to far man. I mean seriously what man is really that concerned with skin? I've never once heard a man say "My god I love me a woman who takes in more sun that fucking superman." Or "Now that's the kind of woman I want One who looks like an orange and glows in the dark, Mmmmmm"
Neil: It is madness. I mean seriously a tanned body is nice but it's in not a deciding factor I once had sex with a woman who looked like fax paper she was so completely white. It was like banging a glowing angel. In it's own way it was really hot. What were we originally talking about again.
Ed: The rain and how we should be saying goodbye to it after this month. It doens't rain much in the Pretoria area, in fact the whole Gauteng region is generally starved of rain during the coming winter.
Neil: Yeah, all the plants and grass pretty much keel over for the winter period and it looks like a billion babies took a shit on all the lawns and then we ranked it across the entire province.
Ed: Yeah, but it's always a totaly mind fuck how green it gets when spring back.
Neil: Again man it's funny how the northern hemisphere is gearing up for summer while we gear up for winter.
Ed: At least we dont have snow waiting for us when winter rolls by.
Neil: Yeah they can keep that shit. But at the same time we wont be having proper Pretoria rains for a while. I guess we'll just have to enjoy these April rains while we can.
Ed: April showers in 30 Celsius weather, weather so good that if the north got it old people would start dropping like flies again.
Neil: Oh yeah I remember that! You're messed up Ed you really are!
04-05-2012, 04:57 PM
Five days in and we're still going! Day 5's theme is up, and day 3 is now closed!
04-05-2012, 09:42 PM
Ed: I hate kids.
Neil: No one hates kids you moron.
Ed: I do, they all look alike and they all remind me of me. Only happier. Look at the little bastards smiling like they have meaning. I want to smack all of them.
Ed: tiny backhands for tiny scamps.. You hear yourself right? Please tell me you do.
Neil: Of course. The explanation being that they remind you of you, of course.
Ed: Well my childhood wasn't the most amazing of childhoods. Annoying brothers, annoying sisters everyone annoying. It's awful. You're lucky you were an only child.
Neil: No one is lucky they are an only child.
Ed: You're just upset that your parents took one look at you and decided never to have children again!
Neil: Screw you man.
Ed: I'm sorry I saw the opening. Any way if there's one thing I don't want to be reminded of it's my childhood. It was in the past and it happened. I'd prefer it stayed where it was. In the past.
Neil: What screwed up your childhood so badly.
Ed: You ever been bullied? It's a complete mind fuck. Bullying sticks with you.
Neil: I can imagine
Ed: You can imagine but you cannot feel what I felt. So when I look at the little scamps I see miniature victims in waiting and little bullies. It's why I hope to never have kids and try have them away from me.
Neil: If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans. Knowing fate your condom is going to break and you're going to end up with triplets.
Ed: Thanks man, not I'm going to have to wear two condoms from now on.
04-05-2012, 10:41 PM
"Emergency unit, stat!"
"Hand me the breathing tube!"
"Looks like she's going to be a quadriplegic. If she lives."
"Drug her up." After the last voice had spoken, I felt a sharp pain. Then I felt...nothing.
4 year-old me sat on a swing. My mom, 21 at the time, stood behind me, pushing me. My dad was smiling, has arms wrapped around her waist. They had said that they would never last, and yet here they were. They had only been dating for five years, one year longer than I had been born. 5-year old me swung happily, my little legs pumping energetically.
"I love you babe," I heard my dad tell my mom. When I swung close to them, my dad grabbed me off of the swing. "And I love you, too, little Annie."
I laughed, feeling safe in my Daddy's arms.
A shutter of black came down, like I was blinking and when I opened my eyes, I was 5 and in an apartment. I sat at a table coloring. Mommy sat on the couch with a man who was not Daddy.
"I really appreciate your help, Sam," my Mommy said. Her voice sounded sad. I frowned and picked up a blue, making raindrops on my paper.
"No problem, Ruth," he said, his voice raspy. Mommy said it was because he smoked. I thought smoking was gross.
"It's just been so hard since Steven left..." she said, her voice trailing off. Daddy left a month ago. I was not concerned. My daddy wouldn't leave me.
Blink. I was seven. I had found out my Daddy wasn't coming back. He never called me, never visited. Mommy told me I was going to have a little brother and Sam would be my new daddy. I didn't want Sam. He didn't like me.
Another blink. I was on my 8th birthday. I remembered because I was wearing the ugly yellow dress my neighbor had given me. Mommy's belly was bulging and she had been cranky lately. So had Sam. They fought a lot more, now. I was sitting in my room, in my yellow dress. I could hear Mommy and Sam's yells. I closed my eyes and wished for Daddy.
I was nine. I had a little brother named Tom, a Mommy who was now just Mom, and no father. I don't know where Steve went. Mom won't talk about it. I don't mind Tom. The kids at school ask me where is me and Tom's father. I tell them we don't have the same father and their eyes widen at me. I have a few friends, but the kids at school don't like me. Just like Sam didn't.
Ten and I'm in big trouble. I sassed Mom's boyfriend Ronald. Whatever. He acts like he's the boss of me. I always remind him that he's not my father.
Blink. Eleven and I'm in a piercing store. I squeeze my eyes shut as I get my ears pierced. It wasn't so bad. I get them double pierced. Wait until Mom finds out. Or even better, Harry who is very strict and calls me a ''troubled child'' My boyfriend who is 15 and I love very much tells me I look great.
Another blink. I'm twelve, but I decide I'm ready to give up my virginity. I lose it to not my boyfriend when I was 11, but a new boy. He's 18, funny, smart and so much better than Matt. His name is Hunter. I think of my mom. No, I will not become a teenage mom. I'm not stupid like her. I use protection.
A slow blink. I was introduced to drugs at age 13. Matt showed them too me. I think Ruth might know I tried pot, but she doesn't say anything. She doesn't try to discipline me anymore. Her boyfriends sometimes try. Hah, my relationships last longer than hers. Take that, Ruth.
I blink twice. I'm 14 and pregnant, then I'm not. I cry in Matt's arms. He tries to comfort me. I have given up my child, for his love. I only need two things in my life. Pot and Matt.
Blinkity-Blink. Matt's driving. I don't know where we're going. He said we're going to run away and start a family, since I managed to get pregnant again. He's even higher than I am. I scream at him to slow down, we're going way to fast. He just laughs and says he'll pull over. He doesn't see the semi until it's too late.
I blink again, will fate change? I already know the answer. As I suspect, my eyes stay closed.
__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ _________________
"Annie? Annie, wake up! Stay with us!"
I open my eyes, not to a flashback, but to a team of doctors, and Ruth. I mouth I'm sorry, before closing my eyes, one last time.
04-06-2012, 12:25 AM
I stared up at the woman who called herself a therapist, my arms folded across my chest. But not by choice. A straightjacket tended to either make one feel as if they were embracing themself, or as if they were looking down on everything in disapproval. I’m sure she understood, though, that I wasn’t crossing my arms voluntarily to show distaste. Although, I’m also sure she also didn’t know that, had my limbs been free, I would have been folding them across my chest on purpose. Every word that came from her lips made me want to vomit. From the west hall, I could hear the weeping and wailing of my fellow “inmates”. I was in the east wing, where it was supposed to be quiet because the only patients there were speaking in hushed tones to whoever sold the lie best that their words would be kept in confidence and not shared with anyone else. What a crock. The two nurses they kept in the room with you while you spilled your guts to the doc were just enough to keep me from talking.They didn’t truly care about our mental health. Or else we all wouldn’t still be in this place. They just liked to feel important, coming in and trying to give us loonies some moral guidance and providing a good example of what it was like to be a “rational” human being. There was no such thing as rationality in the 1950s. It was like the whole world had gone mad. I stared beyond the therapist as I spotted three nurses fly past the little window on the office door. “Another one gone berserk,” I thought to myself. This was nothing new, but I always felt sorry whoever had to get tethered down and tranquilized. Half of us that were put in here weren’t even crazy in the first place, but by the time we’d left this hell hole, if some of us were even that fortunate, we were. The therapist cleared her throat, distracting me from my thoughts. My brain seemed to idle and flit from notion to notion, so one could say I wasn’t pondering anything truly important. But to me, anything was more important than being talked down to by this heffer in the brown suit before me. “I asked you a question, Ms. Engle. What was your childhood like and how has it contributed to what kind of person you are today?” I stared up at her from my uncomfortable steel chair and noticed how comfortably she sat in her own cushioned office chair, watching me with the expression that she was so much better than me. Then my eyes traveled from her chair to her hands that clutched a notepad and a pen, noticing she was eager to write something down. “Well, let’s give her something worthy to jot down today,” said a voice in my head. I leaned forward, and the orderlies behind me rushed to my side and grabbed my shoulders as I stood. The therapist looked up at me over her glasses, folding her hands daintily in her lap, as if to show how much more human she was than me. I smiled, a chuckle bubbling up from my throat as I looked down at her and said, “I am a virgin, and a whore. I give nothing, I’m a taker...and a maker of war. I am truth and I am lies, you can see I’m everything you are not by the look in my eyes. Oh, you can try so hard to justify what you are, and what you do, but you’re nothing. And you’ll never be stronger than me.”
04-06-2012, 01:23 AM
"When I grow up..."
When I hear the term, “When I grow up, I want to...” I always wonder why the phrase is usually only associated with children. I use that term all the time to describe a nearly unattainable feat I want to accomplish in the future. From my perspective, none of us ever really “grow up”, we just keep growing. So if we never stop growing and we never grow up, I think that phrase is laced with a kind of fantastic mysticism that brings the magic and wonder of being a child to adulthood. When people begin their sentence with those infamous words, to me it means they’re opening up and letting you peek into their dreams and fantasies. The phrase gives your goal no set time frame or specifics, which can open up a whole new world of aspirations. When you say you want to grow up and do something or be something, it means there is no expiration date on whatever follows the phrase. You can do it anytime, or not at all. There’s so much flexibility to the words that they can be taken as a vow or as a simple wish to one day be some one better. So many positive things are always associated with the phrase. You never hear anyone say, “When I grow up, I want to be a criminal,” do you? Of course not. It’s almost always followed by something positive and optimistic. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to attain a better standing in life. I think everyone, and not just children, should write down at least one thing they want to be when they grow up. It never hurts to dream.
04-06-2012, 01:49 AM
Childhood is ignorance. It is a soft-focused lens to see the world through, one that blurs out any blemishes or sadness or pain. Every childhood, to every child, is perfect. Mine certainly was.
I sat in comfortable silence, my chubby hands folded around a blue crayon. To me, my picture is lovely. Pigs ought to all be rainbows, I think, reaching for the red. Yes, perfect. My mother enters the room, turning the corner with the phone pressed to her ear. For a moment, she catches my attention, and I study her. “We can’t do that,” she’s saying. “Just, please. Give us two more weeks. No, one. One more week, and it will be in the bank.” Quickly I realize that this is not a conversation I understand, not one that interests me, so I return to my work. It is a masterpiece. “I know,” my mother is saying. “I know you did it last month, but… please. We have a child. She’s three. How is she supposed to go without electricity?” Purple. The chicken should be purple. My mother lets out a relieved- almost desperately so- sigh. I don’t hear it, because I have started to hum. “Thank you,” she is saying. “No, thank you. I promise, this is the last time.” After she hangs up, she walks over and kisses me on the top of the head, looking at my picture. “Em,” she says, sitting down and pulling up a coloring book of her own, “you’re an artist.”
Daddy is home. I hear the door slam and waddle over as fast as my little feet will allow, laughing and reaching for him. He scoops me up, giving me a loud kiss, and while I am still in his arms he leans over to kiss my mother, who is busy at the stove. I am wriggling, and he absentmindedly begins to poke at my chubby flesh. Delighted giggles fill the cramped kitchen. “You’ve been smoking,” my mother says, causing my father’s fingers to stop their movement, just for a moment. He resumes, and so does my laughter. “We talked about this. We can’t afford your cigarettes anymore… and besides. You saw that warning. You’ll get cancer. How do you think I’m supposed to raise her without her father? Should I wait until she’s grown to explain that her dad was too much of a stubborn ass to stop smoking for her? Or should I tell her right after you die? What am I supposed to do here?” I do not listen to this exchange, though I hear the words. In the end, all I take away is that Daddy lets me lay in his bed and watch Barney while he naps, me snuggled into the crook of his arm. Barney is my favorite show.
My best friend is over. We are four and we met at preschool, bonding over both our mutual dislike of the pink popsicles and our membership in the green triangle group for centers. Sometimes, we get to play together, but she lives far away so our parents limit this. Mostly we play at her house, because it is bigger than mine and when we get there we do not see her mother- but sometimes her nanny is there, a woman she calls ‘Lexis. Mostly, Lex talks on the phone, whispering things we cannot hear or understand. Today is one of the days, one of the glorious days, where we get to play at my house. It is small and sometimes you can hear the neighbors yelling, but the floor is cluttered with toys and when we are there a grown up always plays with us. One time, my big brother let us pick for him from the dress-up trunk, and he looked so funny in the crown and cape that we all laughed. He told me not to talk about that part, though. There is a knock at the door and my father answers it, inviting whoever it is inside. Shrieking, Morgan and I come racing round the corner, chasing after my kitten, who always runs when the doorbell rings. There is a man standing in our living room, a shiny badge pinned to his chest. His belt is loaded up, and the pockets of his blue shirt look full. He has removed his hat, tucking it under his arm while he speaks to my father. “And you haven’t heard from him?” he is asking, and my father shakes his head. The man jots something down in a tiny notebook he has pulled from his pocket. “Okay, well, we’ll be on the lookout… but, Sir, I have to be honest. This happens, sometimes- kids turn sixteen and run off. I’m sure there’s nothing to be concerned about,” he says, though it does little to comfort my father. “Especially kids with a drug history. He probably borrowed your car last night without permission, picked up some of his friends, and got stoned somewhere. I’m sure he’ll be back this evening. If he does show up, give us a call.” My father nods and the strange man looks at me for the first time. “You must be Emily,” he says, and I nod shyly. “I’m Officer Lugiano. Do you know where your brother is?” I don’t, and I say so, and that one question is all it takes to get me talking. My brother, I tell the man, helped me paint my room this weekend- it’s pink, like a real princess room, and this is Morgan and her room is yucky old green and she isn’t allowed to leave her toys out or else her mommy throws them away and that’s how come she lost her stuffed lizard, we think, but it’s okay ‘cause she’ll get a new one real soon ‘cause her parents are always getting stuff for her and what color are his walls? This speech- all uttered in one breath- makes the man’s face break into a broad smile. “Red,” he tells me, and then looks to my father. “He’ll come home,” he says, more sureness in his voice now. He pats my father’s shoulder. “Of course he’ll come home. Look at what he has to come back to.” Looking reassured, my father nods and shows him out. Morgan and I continue looking for the cat, though soon we are distracted by the cookies my mother pulls from the oven.
Tyler came home. Soon after… he left. For good. I have not seen him since I watched him walk through the doors at the airport, soon after we painted the walls in his room yellow, which is a color I like, and Mommy and Daddy started to talk about the baby. Mommy’s stomach has been growing bigger and bigger now, and sometimes she puts her bigger hand over my little one and I can feel it wiggle. I put my hands on my own tummy, but it never does that, and I wonder if something is wrong with me. Daddy laughs for a long time when I ask that before finally he tells me that I am perfect, just perfect, exactly the way I am. One morning I wake up, spending time in my bed before I start the day. I have developed the habit of talking to each of my stuffed animals before I move from under the covers in the morning, telling them my plans for the day and the dreams I had just finished. I am nearly finished describing a particularly vivid dream to my favorite yellow bear when my door opens. I look over to see not my mother, as I had been expecting, but my babysitter, a woman I called Miss Pam. “You’re going to have a si-i-ist-errr,” she said, her voice singsong. I nodded- this information was not new to me, but I was still a little bit incredulous to the whole thing. My parents had discussed ‘the baby’, told me it was a girl, and at some point had showed me pictures… but those pictures were just a series of gray blotches on black backgrounds, and I mimicked my parents’ excited tone and said ‘she’s beautiful’ before running off to make imaginary tea for my imaginary tea party. Now, though, it appeared that Miss Pam was in on it, too. “Your mommy had to go to the hospital last night, and your daddy is with her, and today we’ll go visit them to meet her! They named her Mary!” I just blinked at Miss Pam before patting my bed. She came over and sat on the edge of it, perched to discuss this new development with me. Instead, I turned back to the Pooh Bear nestled under my arms, continuing my dream discussion. Soon, Miss Pam joined in, and together we made up an imaginary world from my dream… before I insisted she go start making pancakes, with strawberries this time instead of syrup.
Eventually- reluctantly- I grew up. My sister came home and shortly after so did another little bundle- this one blue. My older brother never returned, though an older sister I had never met did occasionally pop in and out of our lives when she needed something- usually money we didn’t have but would give her anyway, stretching our own budget to nearly its breaking point. Soon I realized that my life was not perfect- my parents fought, my sister was sick, money was tight- but my childhood… that had been perfect. Though it certainly came during tough times, my childhood was too full of love and happiness and laughter to let in any of the hurt and misery and stress. The troubles from before, fortunately, do not plague me now- I am better without my brother, I have far more money than I need, and my father is still around to play pretend with- and yet… I still wish on every star that somehow, someday, I can go back.
04-06-2012, 04:36 AM
"When I grow up, I want to be..." Phovos was bouncing up and down on the old, dog-eared sofa, unsure what to do with herself.
"Calm down, Phovos..." Teekay smiled. "Sit properly and I'll be right with you... Then we can talk about whatever we want..." He disappeared into the kitchen. Phovos was tempted to follow, but decided to just keep on bouncing on the sofa. She could hear the rustling of a packet of biscuits. Maybe Teekay had bought her favourite biscuits again? When Teekay reappeared in the doorway with a plate of chocolate bourbons, Phovos squeeeeed with excitement.
"What did I say about calming down, Phovos?" Teekay waggled one of his short, metal fingers rather ineffectively. Phovos though understood and sat herself down as he joined her on the sofa. "So, what do you want to talk about?"
Phovos grinned. "When I grow up, I wanna be a spaceraptor! I wanna go look at the stars and go to the moon and stuff!"
Teekay smiled. "Oh really? Well, you know it's a huge amount of hard work... A lot of people try, but not everyone makes it..."
"I know I know! But I'll work really really really hard! I'll be the best spaceraptor ever!" Phovos was about to start bouncing again, but changed her mind.
Another smile. "I know. You always try your hardest..." Phovos noticed that Teekay was hesitating. "But you know that we have to hide away, don't you?"
Phovos nodded. Teekay sighed and continued. "Until the humans accept us, life will be hard. But I know one day, you'll be a spaceraptor. You're a smart girl..." He sighed again and started stroking Phovos's head. "One day, we'll both get what we want..."
04-06-2012, 10:46 AM
“When I grow up, I wanna be famous, I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies.” Sang Derek's little sister. His face turned into a scowl. For the third morning in a row now the little blighter was waking him up by jumping around his room singing that ridiculous song by the Pussycat Dolls. Worst of all it was because Derek had made a bet with her that she couldn't balance a spoon on the end of her nose. £5 he said after he'd seen her fail so many times. She agreed, and the next time she attempted she did it, straight off the bat. The spoon was perfectly sat upon her shnozzle.
Now here she was again demanding the money that he owed her through the medium of song and dance. He buried his head further into his pillow and pulled the covers up over his head “Go away” came his muffled reply to his sister. However she ignored his please and continued to dance. “I’ll tell mum and dad!” he exclaimed feeling his annoyance at her rising.
All of a sudden she stopped dead. “Noooo!” she whimpered back, “I just want my monies”.
“Well I don’t have it yet” he replied
“But you promised” she said continuing to whimper”
“Tough” he replied
“When I grow up..”
“SHUT UP” he said throwing a pillow at her.
In an instant she ran out of the room crying and calling for her mother and father. Now was the time he should really get up, the day was evidently about to begin with a bang.
04-06-2012, 04:25 PM
Day 6 has been added, which means day 4 is closed!
Dang, I am loving these. Some are sweet, some sad, some random, some funny... The creativity you people bring to the table is amazing.
04-06-2012, 11:36 PM
Ed: What did you want to be when you grew up.
Neil: What any kid in this day and age wants to be when they grow up. Employed.
Ed: what the hell are you on about?
Neil: Well think about it. Remember the stats they hit us with when we were in our final year of primary school? Ninety five percent of all students who finish high school won't be waltzing into a job.
Ed: Oh yeah, that was depressing as hell man.
Neil: Most definitely. With stats like that how can any child still want to be an astronuaght or anything else as important. Let's not forget the recession. Think about that. You're dad's lost his job And you hear that you most likely won't be getting a job when you get out of school. How can you be thinking of anything more than simply having a job.
Ed: I never thought of it like that.
Neil: Of course not. There'd be much to be gained from getting the dream career but in this economy.
Ed: Oh god not you too!
Ed: I hate that whole, 'in this economy' shtick. Everyone uses it. We live in a world of starvation and access. You're either fat or starving. You're grateful or ungrateful. Just get over it. "Oh in this economy, you have to be happy with what you have. I lost one of my two cars but in this economy we should be happy to have a car. I was raped in the ass but in this economy I should be happy just to be raped in the ass."
Neil: Oh shut up you moron.
Ed: That generally means I'm right.
04-07-2012, 12:25 AM
When I Grow Up. (A mediocre poem)
What will I be when I grow up?
Will I be famous? Infamous? And for what?
Will I be genius, full of book smarts?
Or a humanitarian, with a compassionate heart?
Will I make the next cure for that nasty disease?
Or will or will I make peace with the countries overseas?
Will I be a sports star, in the hall of fame?
How will people remember my name?
Maybe I'm not destined to be known,
But be a great mother, staying at home.
But will I have kids? If so how many?
What will their names be? Travis? Lenny?
And if I raise children, will I do it alone?
Will my kids have a father? Or did he roam?
Perhaps, maybe I went with adoption.
Even if I'm married, that will be an option.
The future is far and not mine to see,
We cannot control our destinies.
For now I'll just live, love and much more,
But now and then I'll wonder what the future has in store.
"When I grow up I want to be..."
God, why do I have to know? They've been asking me this question since primary school, and I'm still not sure I know the answer. Happy, obviously. Healthy, unquestionably. But what do I want to be? I've had so many different dreams and desires in my life, some of them completely contradicting others. And when is it, the when I grow up? When does that happen? Does it have to? Maybe I can just keep moving to a new country every year, claiming that I'm still nineteen until I'm definitely too old to get away with it.
I guess the main reason for my hesitance to decide what I want to be, and beyond that, whether I even want to grow up is that there's so many aspects of my life in which I had to grow up far too young. I was living on my own, supporting myself completely from fourteen, and was taking on a lot of the responsibilty for my younger siblings even before then. The parts of me that have managed to cling to their youth are all parts that I desperately want to keep, for as long as humanly possible.
What do I want to be? Just myself. I'll figure the rest out on the way.
Mood light shedding lukewarm fire
Across your skin
And god you're beautiful,
Your hand slips into mine,
Like the feelings mutual,
And I know this isn't real at all.
But I love the way it feels to fall.
My eyes locked on your eyes,
On the ceiling.
I just try to double my
Coz your eyes are cold
Soul hidden and only yours.
And your heart just isn't
In this anymore
It's just a game we play together.
And I'll say 'Baby I'll love you forever,'
And you can tell me
I'm all you'll ever need,
I close my eyes,
And in my mind,
You're not lying to me.
Now I lie by your side,
Listen to your breathing,
Just trying to find
some kind of meaning.
Cause I know your souls'
kept cold in walls of steel.
And I know that you
don't have the heart to feel
what I feel
It's a game we play together
And I'll say 'baby I'll love you forever.'
And you can tell me
I'm all you'll ever need
I close my eyes,
And in my mind
You're not lying to me.
04-07-2012, 02:46 AM
In the corner, the monitor beeps. The sound is loud and happens every few seconds, making concentration difficult for those that, unlike myself, have not long since learned to tune out the sound. Somehow, the patient slumbers. Actually, I know exactly how the patient slumbers, because I made it happen, writing out the order for a milligram of Lormetazepam not an hour ago. It had the desired effect, I note, adding an indication to the chart. Gently I set the chart on the foot of his bed, removing my stethoscope from around my neck and inserting it into my ears. I press it against his right lung, then his left, listening closely. Still, he sleeps. Though the monitors- still beeping- indicate that his heart rate is favorable, I press my fingers to the pulse point in his wrist, counting carefully as I study the second hands on my wristwatch. I don’t trust the machinery, though I should have- we get the same number, one that I make note of.
For a few moments, my exam continues, and I try to be as gentle and unobtrusive as I possibly can though I am invading his privacy in the most intimate of ways. Finally, I check his stitches. The procedure this afternoon had been routine, but left a large scar- one that worries me. Thus far, he has managed to avoid infection or complications, but I have been at this just long enough to know that he is not quite out of the woods. Lowering his blanket, I look to his wife for the first time. “He’s doing as well as he can be,” I assure her. I have said these words a thousand times, and they always yield the same result. His wife sags with the reassurance, as though I have relieved her of a burden she simply could not bear much longer. “I know that brain surgery sounds scary, and he doesn’t look good… especially with him hooked up to all of these tubes and machines, but… we’ll take good care of him here, and in a few days he should be back to a regular-care room.” The woman nods and unconsciously takes her husband’s hand. He shifts in his sleep. “This is the only method of treatment that could have had any effect on his condition,” I assure her. “We wouldn’t have taken these drastic measures had they not been absolutely necessary.” I reach over to her free hand, covering it with my own. “Would you like me,” I ask her, trying to convey sympathy and understanding with my eyes, “to prescribe something… for you? I know this is a difficult time, and I know you’d like to be by his side… I can give you something to help you sleep. I promise my staff will look after him tonight, and tomorrow when we’re ready to wake him we need you fully rested.” The woman reluctantly and gratefully accepts once I promise that she can stay here in this room, and I reach for the prescription pad I keep in the pocket of my white coat. “Okay,” I tell her. “I’m going to go down to the pharmacy and fill this, I’ll send it back up with a nurse. Take one- two if you need it, but make sure that you’re ready for bed when you take it. They work quickly. If you have any questions, please feel free to call my cell phone.” The woman is thankful, and I make one final check of his vitals before I take my leave.
As I stand at the counter to fill the last prescription of a very long day, I reflect. Today, I did good. I did well, but of course I did- I am good at my job and I always do well. But today… today is different. I helped people. I saved families, and improved quality of life, and went above and beyond. Today is a day I can truly be proud of. It’s funny, I think, watching as the pharmacist counts little white pills into an obscenely orange bottle. When I was a child, I knew what I wanted to be. I had always been ready to tell anyone who would listen that when I grew up, I was going to be a doctor. As soon as I could distinguish between them, I would say I wanted to be a ‘brain surgeon’. It was a year into college before I realized that the term I had been using my entire life was correct, and it had taken me another full year to use ‘neurosurgeon’ instead. When I grew up, I wanted to be a glamorous doctor that had respect and adoration and love. I wanted to help people every day and save lives. I saw myself in a white coat, with a pretty house and a brilliant husband. I saw expensive shopping trips and two beautiful children and a luxury car. I didn’t see reality. I didn’t see the grueling pace of medical school and internships- I didn’t foresee being so sleep deprived that I would find myself a corner one afternoon and just sob for an hour for no reason other than I was tired. I didn’t see myself spending hours each day cutting through red tape, and I certainly didn’t think I would spend so long defending myself and my skill just because I am a woman. I didn’t see patients dying on the operating table for no good reason other than that it was their time, I didn’t see patients inventing injuries to get drugs or attention and always coming to me because I looked like I had a ‘soft heart’. I didn’t see my adult life very accurately, and though it isn’t what I expected I would not change it for the world.
I am an adult, I realize, signing my name on the pharmacy log as I accept the medication from the man that has been trying to get my attention for the last two minutes. I am not, however, grown up. When I grow up… when I grow up, I hope that I am still every bit the dreamer that I was when I was six years old.
04-07-2012, 07:38 AM
"OH MY BAHRAG!" Nuhvok shouted as he entered the small room. "WHAT ON THREA IS THAT NOISE?" He covered up his tiny little ears and stumbled over to the strange noise-maker that made up most of the room. "HOW DO YOU TURN IT OFF?"
Kohrak stopped singing along, grabbed a small remote and paused the music. "You never know when to use your ears. That was barely 90 decibels..." He tutted, then turned a dial on the strange machine and started it up again. "It's only music. Just a song I like."
Nuhvok shook his head. "I don't care. It's noisy. And irritating."
"You don't have a problem when I use my vocal cords to speak to you, so why do you have a problem with me playing my favourite song? Or any music for that matter?" Kohrak asked. "The only sounds in this huge nest are the sounds of machinery and the odd squeak of pain from whatever Bohrok has managed to mangle themselves in the agricultural machines again. That or I have to listen to the squeals of pain from the Bahrag's torture rooms. So some nice music makes a change..."
Nuhvok tapped his foot impatiently. "I hate it when you stop using your telepathy to speak. It's the way we speak. We're not humans, reliant on our ears and our eyes. You just want to be like them when you start using your sound tricks."
"You don't get it, do you? We are missing out on so much beauty because we shut our ears!" Kohrak turned the music up slightly, then pressed another button, changing the music being played. "Listen, for a change..."
The music, some sort of lullaby, started drifting through the air. A voice hummed in the background, but didn't seem to be actually speaking. After a minute, Kohrak paused it.
"What do you think?" he asked, after a minute of silence.
"I think you're wasting your time with this human music rubbish..." Nuhvok groaned. "Listen to your music, fine, but if I have to hear it, I'm going to turn this room into a black hole..." And with that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
"Eh, fuck you..." Kohrak whistled, before turning his music back on.
04-07-2012, 05:41 PM
The theme for day 7 is up! Who saw this one coming? XD
04-07-2012, 09:14 PM
"This Lovely Song"
Eyes that shine like the calmest ocean I've ever known and a voice as soft and low as the wind,
My love calls to me in that reassuring way that soothes my soul and heals the wounds.
His tongue is truthful and when he laughs, it spreads its warmth from my outside to within.
His eyes are kind and loving, deep and intelligent. When he tells me he loves me, I believe it.
His skin is soft and his frame is slender, tall and passive. He's a gentleman and won't ever hurt me.
His lips are soft, tender, sweet and loving. He'll never use them to act malevolent toward me.
When I hear him sing, I melt into his arms and listen to his voice carry me off to somewhere only he could.
He makes the music I was born to hear, the kind of tune I was supposed to follow with my own melody.
He keeps me looking for God when I know we need Him both and helps me learn to be softer.
His words are always so kind and pleasing to the ear. He's even admitted he's polite to a fault.
He's strong not only in strength, but in mentality and knows when to worry and when to be calm.
When I see his face, I can't help but light up like the brightest star in the sky and offer a smile back.
This love of mine is the pen I was made to write my life with, I'm sure. I've never felt so loved;
So I pray to God every night and ask Him to let this lovely song meld with mine forever as we dance in the night.
04-07-2012, 09:50 PM
Ed: you ever hear people say I like music?
Neil: Sure, of course.
Ed: yeah well who the fuck doesn't like music? I cant think of a single human being who thought out loud damn this infernal...sound! What sound? Sound in general damn it.
Ed: I mean thing about. Everyone at some point goes 'I hate that song' who the hell goes I hate songs in general?
Neil: What about those classical types. One could easily argue that they don’t listen to songs.
Ed: No one just listens to classical on its lonesome. Most add lyrics or have some kind of set. Take dance you get dance that doesn't have sound at all but w still say we love 'that song'. The beat in 'that song' was great. I 'hate' Gerald Butler.
Ed: Sorry I got bored of my own listing and I thought I'd add spice.
Neil: It's moments like these were the idea of you killing me in my sleep goes from impossible to improbable.
Ed: Fuck off. Any way. My point before is it seems a bit like a double standard if modern instrumental tracks are considered songs and classical music is just considered music.
Neil: I guess and I know I've never heard anyone say classical music is stupid.
Ed: without coming of like an idiot? You're right. That's some bullshit isn't it? Oh and don’t forget that whole. Classical music is supposed to stimulate that brain. I hate how music snobs use that against regular Jills and Joes! It's such horse shit!
Neil: It's like this whole other level of stupid. We should totally stand up against classical music and the snobs who lord it over our heads but most likely doesn’t have the patience to stomach it on their own.
Ed: But then wouldn't we look like the idiots saying that hate classical music?
Neil: Damn.....bit of a catch 22 there.
Ed: yeah if you like classical music then you're a music snob and if you hate it then you're an idiot, a Neanderthal or, is the term cretin?
Neil: think it is. Blows.
Ed: Yeah, blows. Stupid songs!
04-07-2012, 10:05 PM
Slip through my fingers like sand, young one.
Lively like the Earth and fiery as the sun.
You are the forget-me-nots in a wild garden.
Gypsy boy so free, and your heart unharderned.
Going wherever you please, born to wander,
You're the Roma boy born to travel yonder.
Dance, Gypsy boy, dance, turn forever,
Your love is a never ending endeavor,
A journey too great for someone like me
To make and win you over successfully.
I’ll always love you, more than you’ll ever know.
Dark skinned, delightful in its own magnificent shadow.
I can't ask you to stay, lover of music and life.
I have seen your past, your pain, and your strife.
Your eyes inviting me to join in celebration.
But I could never accept such an invitation.
Because we come from two different paths
That, if met, would result in cultural wrath.
Dance, Gypsy boy, dance, turn forever,
I know in my heart our love could never
Carry on without negative consequence
I must let you go, in all good conscience.
We both know it’s right that we have to part
Even if it means the breaking of both our hearts.
Your side and my side will always be at odds.
On our separate roads we walk, praying to God
That our paths will join when the prejudice is gone.
Until then, I’ll look for your smile in every dawn
And remember your laughter whenever it rains,
And feel your fire, running through my veins.
In my heart, you will forever have a place.
As you slip through my fingers...
I'll remember your face.
You guys who have been doing this are awesome, keep it up!
04-08-2012, 01:22 AM
I know a place where you can get really good bagels. It’s called Angel’s Bagels and at the risk of sounding cheesy, they taste like they came straight from Heaven. Angel’s Bagels was located the side of a hill. Angel’s Bagels was strict about keeping good lawn care so the grass is really greener. Warm bagels, drinks so cold, it makes the glass wet, and wild customers always make the place interesting. I went to get a bagel and someone offered to buy me and my friend some water. Cheap, I know, After we had drunk some of the water, we felt a little faint.
“There must be something in the water,” my friend said. “What were we sippin’? Gin n’ juice?”
I didn’t get a chance to respond because I passed out. I dreamed I was laying underneath a palm tree, with my shoelaces undone. There were also these 3 boys. The leader said that the group was going to ‘break their necks’. Trying get a little sneak peek, I crept toward them. One of them saw me. “You lookin’ at us?” He said. Suddenly I woke up. I was in the hospital. The doctor explained to me I had been unconscious for a week and was poisoned. I probably could only live for a few more months. I cried but the doctor told me that there was a program to make my last months happy.
“You can travel the world,” he said, “for free!”
“But nothing comes close to living!" I cried.
Suddenly, I noticed the male models. They looked like they were from the Golden Coast. "Once you party with us, I think you'll be fine," one said.
I shrugged. Well you can't change fate. "Let's party!" I said.
Recognize the song?
04-08-2012, 03:24 AM
Songs start routines.
When you’ve done all your singing,
And brightened your day,
And looked at the cobwebs,
And thrown them away,
And dusted the bookshelves,
And cleared out the mice,
And vacuumed the floor,
And combed out the lice,
And taken the trash out,
And fed the dog,
And gone to the shed,
To fetch out a log,
And lit a soft fire,
And set it a light,
And waited until dark,
Until it was night,
And drank some win,
And watched some TV,
And thought about work,
And the parking fee,
And gotten un-comfy,
So you shifted your butt,
And shouted at the dog,
And called it a mutt,
For barking at cats,
That passed outside,
And then ran away,
For a place to hide,
And you’ve turned off the lights,
And you’ve locked all the doors,
And you’ve bathed the dog,
And washed all his paws,
And then gotten a snack,
Or maybe made tea,
And taken a chocolate bar,
That Jill gave you free,
And totted about,
Cleaning up bits,
And watched a documentary,
About the fighting pits,
Which are completely irrelevant,
To anything in your life,
But you watch away,
And you lick your knife,
Cause you finished your dinner,
And you’ve mopped up your plate,
With a nice crust of bread,
And now your shirt is a state,
And you’ve run the warm tap,
Till the water is hot,
And you’ve hurried the washing,
Cause you dirtied the pot,
And you hate cleaning the thing,
Cause it has a funny smell,
Coming from the handle,
And makes you unwell,
And that’s just a day,
Of all of the things,
That happen to you.
04-08-2012, 05:34 AM
“Ugh. I just can’t… I can’t… this part… it doesn’t make any sense!” I am frustrated, and once again I reach forward, pencil in hand.
“It’s not supposed to make sense,” comes the- infuriatingly- calm reply. “That’s why it’s music. Music just doesn’t make sense sometimes. It’s beautiful because it’s nonsensical.”
This reply warrants a dirty look from me to him, though it doesn’t last long. I can never stay mad. “Fine,” I mutter, writing yet another note in the margin of my sheet music. At this point, the sides are far more cramped than the staff. “But this… this is the last one. After this, we’re done.”
My tutor nods decisively, as though he is agreeing with me. Both of us know that he is not. “After this,” he parrots, “we’re done.” Apparently, this does the trick. We both feel better, and I begin to play. At first, I am confident- this part I know already, this is the easy part. The notes are as familiar as my favorite jeans, if only because I have worn them so many times before, in preparation for… ah, and here comes the tricky… oh. Wait. It’s over, and I’ve done it. For a moment, this takes me by surprise, and I pause to glance at him in surprise. His eyes go wide and he makes an encouraging motion with his chin as if to urge me on. I continue. Finally- finally- the last note is no longer ringing in the air, and I have done it. It was not perfect, but it will do and it is over. “Again?” he asks, and I sigh as though I am reluctant, though truthfully now that I have accomplished something my fingers are itching. I start and finish five more times, guided through each time by his gentle urging. “See?!” he says, after the fifth time- when I have clearly mastered, at least for now, the music. “I told you. It’s just one song. One song is not going to kill you. And next week…” He trails off, because he knows I’ll finish his sentence for him.
“Next week… we’ll learn one more. One song at a time.”
04-08-2012, 08:22 AM
Medic blinked. Did Heavy just ask him to dance? Really?
"Er, I vould razher not, mein freund. I am no dancer."
Heavy stamped his foot. "Tiny doktor is no fun. Others all dance! Even Heavy dance!"
He stank of alcohol. And that rough, Russian accent was grinding on Medic's nerves. The team had gone out to the bar to celebrate their recent victory over BLU, and Medic was the only one with any sense to not drink, since someone would have to drive them all home. Probably in Sniper's camping van.
"C'mon, Sawbones! Do a l'l dance fer us!" Engineer gurgled through his fifth bottle of beer. "Ah tell ya what, ya dance, we'll all dance."
Medic shook his head. "You are all very drunk. And I vill not partake in zhese silly, drunken mind games of yours. Plus, ve have an important day tomorrow..."
"Doc! Don't be a frickin' asshat!" Scout had drunk about thirty alcopops in the space of an hour and was opening yet another one. "COME ON! Or I'll start shoutin' that I need a dispenser here!"
"Er, son, that only works on me..." Engineer sighed. "And if ya do, Ah'll bash yar head in."
Scout quickly shut up, while Sniper shoved a can of beer into Medic's hands. "C'mon. Have one for the team, mate."
Medic stared at the can, then handed it back. "I vould, but someone has to drive. Normally, zhat vould be Spy's job, but he's buzy in zhe bazhroom vith some unlucky woman..."
"I was wonderin' where that bloooody Spy was..." Demoman grinned, before spinning around on his chair and suddenly falling out, sprawling out on the floor.
Sniper picked up the now blind drunk, sleeping Demoman, and sighed. "Meh, maybe you're right. Last thing we want is to turn up tomorrow drunk as hell.
Soldier suddenly stood up and saluted, before joining Demoman on the floor.
Engineer nodded his head, probably the wisest thing he'd done all evening, then placed a couple of fifties on the counter and danced out of the bar. Heavy grinned and danced out too, doing some sort of cha-cha dance. Scout decided to breakdance out, while Sniper just tutted, shook his hips a bit then dragged Soldier and Demoman outside.
After a little thought, Medic flashed a smile, then waltzed out of the bar, grabbing Sniper's keys as he did so.
Dance as Meditation.
Most people have a form of meditation.
And no, I don't just mean sitting under a tree, legs and feet folded painfully into the lotus position, hands resting palms up on your knees with your index fingers resting lightly against your thumbs, trying to ignore the seventeen mosquito's, three march flies and multiple green ants that have all appeared out of nowhere in the six seconds it's been since you closed your eyes and started focusing completely on your breathing. Besides that, the neighbours dog has come over and laid down beside you, and you can feel the saliva dripping from its mouth seeping slowly through your trousers.
No, though I give all kudos to those people who actually have the ability to completely empty their minds while sitting absolutely still, doing nothing, I have never been that kind of person, and don't know that many who are. But still, most people have their form of meditation, even if it's something as simple as the five minutes they spend in the shower, preparing themselves for the day.
For me it's dancing. I am often complimented, when I go to the bush raves that I loved so much as a young(er) girl, or 'in da club' trying not to listen to the music I'm wiggling to, but I don't really understand why. I dance free, unencumbered, and perhaps this is it - certainly I can't look particularly attractive, throwing my weight in random directions, squatting close to the ground and bouncing upwards again. I lose all sense of where I am, what I'm doing, what I look like. I forget my issues, I shake off my stress.
There's just me and the music.
It's been a long time since I've gone into the middle of the forest, with just a hundred other people and a massive speaker system, and the trees and the moon and just danced.
I think I need to meditate.
04-08-2012, 11:19 AM
The next day's topic is up
04-08-2012, 03:22 PM
"One red. One blue. One green. One brown. One white. One black..."
Lehvak crossed off each colour as he walked past the line of Bohrok. "So you guys are the new guys?"
The six Bohrok nodded. "Yes, sir!"
"Er... Okay..." Lehvak blinked, just as Kutrak appeared to clear stuff up.
"This is the new new lot. They're a color-coordinated group all of their own. A colour for every element, plus one for the colors of light and shadow, plus brown."
Lehvak blinked again, pretty confused by Kutrak's explanation. "Huh? Why brown?"
"That's the color you get when you mix all colors together." Kutrak explained.
"Okay..." Lehvak scratched his tooth, with his molivi. "Okay... So what are your names?"
Kutrak walked down the line of Bohrok, naming each one in turn. "Tauvok, Bohrok-Kal of fire. Galivok, Bohrok-Kal of water. Leavok, Bohrok-kal of air. Pohavok, Bohrok-Kal of earth. Onuvok, Bohrok-Kal of shadow. Koparak, Bohrok-Kal of light."
"Doesn't look much like a Bohrok of light to me..." Lehvak tutted. "Oh well. I suppose this group will work better than the previous group..."
Kutrak shook his head. "Your group..."
"My group?" Lehvak exclaimed.
"Yeah, your group. You always said you wanted a color-coordinated group of your own!"
"No I didn't! And why do you keep on spelling Colour without the u? We're speaking pan-galactic English, not American-English!" Lehvak squeaked.
"I speak whatever version of English I like. Anyway, your group was fine. The only problem with the group was Tahnok. The Queens don't believe he is good enough for a group. Plus, he's got blue eyes instead of green, and strange red marks on him. Electricity Bohrok are supposed to be pure white!"
Lehvak sighed. "Yeah, true. I just wish we didn't discriminate each other because of our skin and eye colour..." he paused, then turned to the new group. "You're dismissed. Remember, you have a training session with Avrak later on."
As the new guys shuffled out, Lehvak turned back to Kutrak. "Do you think that, if I was purple instead of green, would people still care about me?"
Kutrak hesitated. "I would... But with everyone else... For most Bohrok, color is everything. You've seen how the Bahrag have acted towards the 'unfortunate ones'. You've seen how lost and confused little Tahnok is..."
Lehvak sniffed, then sat down. "Shame. It really is. We're such racial, colour-addicted bastards, aren't we?"
"Yeah... But it's up to us to make a difference. Right?"
Why is it that colour seems to have such an effect on people?
There's the obvious connotation there of skin - and living in Australia, it is impossible not to see the way that colour has seperated people. It's only relatively recently that the native people of this land were actually classified as people. Before that, they were, by law, included in the 'flora and fauna' act. Yes, I'm serious. They were actually considered animals. It seems ridiculous to me that anyone could have this attitude toward another person, no matter what colour they were or how different they seemed to be from themselves.
But it's not just skin deep, this effect that colour seems to have on us. Between the ages of thirteen and sixteen, I portrayed myself as an 'emo.' I was going through some emotional difficulties, so I expressed it by dressing myself almost entirely in black, all the time. It took me years to realise that rather than being the fashionable, independant statement of my emotional headspace that I thought it was, dressing in glum colours every day (teamed with the angsty, angry music I was constantly listening to) was actually keeping me in that downward spiral of teenage angst.
Now, when I wake up on the wrong side of the bed, I dress in the brightest, happiest clothes I own. It never fails to lift my spirits. :)
04-09-2012, 02:55 AM
Dance- A Poem hastily written before the deadline XD
Do you want to salsa in the rain?
It's a dance popular in Spain.
When we tango with me in a dress
We'll feel relaxed and have no stress.
When I'm feeling giddy I like to Cha-Cha
And watching you do it makes me go "Ha-ha!"
A line dance is also lots of fun
Since it can be done with everyone!
Quickstep, quickstep, 1,2,3
Won't you come and quickstep with me?
Or we can break it down
Taking our hips and swinging them 'round
Square dancin' is popular in the South
If you don't like it, well shut your mouth.
So there are many dances for us to
If you don't dance, I'll still love you! :)
04-11-2012, 01:54 PM
Are we going to continue this?
04-11-2012, 02:46 PM
Ed: I can't dance.
Neil: Don’t be stupid everyone can dance.
Ed: I can't.
Neil: Of course you can. If I attached jumped cables to your ass cheeks and then started a car with happened to be playing loud music you'd be dancing. This is the world. Anyone who can move can dance. What everyone can't do is dance well.
Ed: Well then, mister anal beyond belief, then I am bad at dancing.
Neil: Oh, well of course you can't.
Ed: You're being racist aren't you?
Neil: What you mean?
Ed: You're playing on the whole 'dancing like a white guy' angle aren't you?
Neil: I've seen you dance, you suck. The fact you that you're white doesn't mean that much at all. Shit man I'm black and you've seen me eating fried chicken do you think it's because I'm black.
Neil: fuck you man!
Ed: I'm kidding.
Neil: You'd better be. Who on earth doesn't like chicken anyway? That shit's delicious!
Ed: Hells yeah it is. But you got to admit that white people can't dance is an unfair stereo type.
Neil: umm of course man. Hey remember the music video to that phatboyslim song with the white guy dancing in front of a movie theatre?
Ed: Oh yeah, "check it out now, the funks on bother, right about now the funk's one brother" That was my shit!
Neil: Yeah, we may be getting old.
Neil: Well it could have been MC hammer.
Ed: No, people who love that MC hammer aren't old. That shit is funny and ironic. Therefore immortal. Go West on the other hand is just fucking old. If you're caught dancing to that you're fucked up. The human police should just rise up and take you away. You're name should just show up on the grim reaper's book and they should just take you away. Because you are clearly just that old.
Neil: So yes to dancing to MC hammer and no to dancing to Phatboyslim?
Ed: I don’t know you're the black guy I feel like I should be asking you on the whole rhythm aspect.
Neil: As oddly stereotypical as that was, I am finding it hard to disagree with you. But you're still a moron.
04-11-2012, 05:22 PM
Alright, I'm currently updating who's done what!
TOPICS UP UNTIL DAY 6 ARE CLOSED.
Day 11 has been added.
You get an extra 24 hours to work on days 7 and 8, because I am kind. Oh, and the server issue. XD Consider days 9 and 10 to be your water break! No topics for those days!
04-11-2012, 06:10 PM
COLOUR! The Pure way ^_^
Ed: You know black and white aren't really colours and yet we all obsess over it don’t we?
Neil: I don’t know I think obsessing over colour is something you exaggerate. I don’t think we obsess we obsess over colour enough.
Ed: You got to be kidding me. There's been so much improved in people lately. People don’t see colour bow a days.
Neil: The only way people wouldn’t see colour would be because there was too much shit in the way. One only has to look at the world around us. When you think of the clothing of an angel, what colour is it?
Neil: Exactly. You ever see that silly shit called lord of the rings?
Ed: Yes, what's bad about lord of the rings.
Neil: Well let's look at the clothing of the bad horse guys in that shall we?
Ed: The Nazgul
Neil: Sure, Whatever. They wear black! The bad guys. When the special awesome king of horses arrives guess what colour shadowfax is.....as white is the high level 'white' wizard Gandalf. The onl thing that movie needed was a white cross!
Ed: You're insane.
Neil: I've only just begun to fight. Check this shit out. The only black super hero that's showed in Hollywood is who? Hancock.
Ed: Hancock was awesome. I loved Hancock. Will Smith, Cherlize Theron the home girl and the guy from arrested development.
Neil: we should really remember his name. Considering how awesome he is.
Neil: In any case think about the show you love. Think about it. Only black super hero...
Neil: And he's a fucking alcoholic!
Ed: Oh come on!
Neil: The only way he sorts himself out is by get is.....going to jail! That's light Ed. The black hero is an ex-con. Yay for the kids they can fashion themselves after him.
Ed: You're mad!
Neil: I'm not even done. When prison 'sorts him out', guess who it turns out he's in love with? Guess?
Neil: The white girl! Adding to one of the most insane stereo types of all time. Argue with me I dare! Now I dare you to call me crazy! I bet you never considered that before. It's a good thing it wasn't fried chicken they were eating at the dinner scene or my brain would have exploded!
Ed: It's moments like this when you killing me in my sleep goes from impossible to improbable once again.
Bump in the Night.
When I was a young girl,
Each and every night,
I'd refuse to let father
turn out the light.
It wasn't that I was scared,
I would protest,
Of the darkness itself,
But I will confess,
I was quite terrified
of not being able,
to see what might lurk,
'neath my bed or my table,
NOT of the dark,
But what might be inside it,
A monster, or demon,
Lurking just behind it,
That shadow just moved!
I was terribly sure,
So I'd creep from my bed,
and open the door,
Just a crack, just to let in
the light from the hall
so that it could sit
comfortingly on my wall.
I would fix my eyes
On that sliver of light,
Sure that it would protect me,
From things that went bump in the night.
As I grew older,
my nervousness stayed,
though I thought as I grew,
it would just fade away,
When I walked about town,
in the dark of the night,
I would still feel unsettled,
still feel that fright,
Every shadow and tree,
seemed to reach out for me,
curling its claws,
But I realised one day,
I need not be scared,
As long as I had
a friend with me there,
So with mates by my side,
I felt quite confident,
And never jumped at shadows,
No matter where I went,
Gone where the days,
when I'd curl up in fright,
of the things that went bump in the night.
04-12-2012, 01:03 AM
"I want dancing lessons Mummy!!!"
"You're not having dancing lessons, we don't have the money!" Mum replied.
"But Mum, please" cried Darren's little sister.
His sister's face grew more and more desperate as she pleaded with her mother, her little features falling into a broken heap and tears streaming down her face. She'd wanted to dance as long as Darren could remember, however his family had never found it as a priority. Now on her birthday she was yet again going to get the chance to ask for a present, something she really wanted. Dancing lessons!
"Please Mummy, I'll do anything? I'll clean my room"
"You should do that anyway, you're getting old enough" Said Dad.
"NO, that's not fair Darren doesn't!"
"Yes i do" replied Darren, his face now lacking the sympathy he'd just had for his sister.
"Most of the time" His Dad added.
"I'll paint you more pictures" She cried trying a different tactic.
"You paint us enough pictures hunny, our fridge door is creaking from the amount we put up!" Said Mum.
"I'll stop painting them" she said, trying to coerce her parents into believing that she'd never make another work of art again. However from their faces Darren could tell that not only did they know she was lying and would keep painting regardless, she didn't make pieces of art either. Darren thought about expressing this but looking at his sister's face again he realised she was already upset enough and he'd only provoke her into a tantrum and his parent's wrath. Darren instead decided to think of another plan.
04-12-2012, 01:15 AM
Colour (love the fact you spelt it correctly Anne) (Continued from last post)
"Hey, I have an idea" Said Darren. The rest of the family now looked at him, surprised somewhat even to find he was sitting there with his bowl of cornflakes, the feeling that he was easily forgotten irked him but he pressed onward regardless. "How about you teach me how to draw like you do, and I'll teach you how to dance?" He suggested to his little sister.
As he finished his sentence a bounty of different emotions exploded within the kitchen. "You dance?" His father began, "Since when could you dance?" he accused heartily.
"I'll have you know Dad, I'm actually quite a good dancer, me and some friends have been watchign videos online and teaching each other things." he said brushing the comment away with the sound of authority. It was true, Darren and his friends often had small get-togethers where they'd show one another the moves they'd learnt.
"But you're older" his sister protested "how can I teach you to draw when you're better than me?" she pouted.
"Now now" mother began, "Darren's no better than you, you just have different styles, you always put lots of lovely colour into yours". Mum always defended the arts, she was big on them, no one else seemed to care though, it was a shame really as she studied it at university. She'd even won a few awards for her sculptures. "You know how much I love colour" She added.
"Exactly!" exclaimed Darren, "My pictures are too dark, if I draw something I want you to tell me what the colours should be, help my imagination to flow, what do you say?" he asked.
"Well..." pondered Darren's little sister, "I will only agree if you teach me Ballet... that's a most colourful of dances..." she said wisely as if it were a fact rather than opinion.
"Ballet?" Darren scoffed.
04-12-2012, 01:30 AM
I know it's late but my account got "deleted" in the massive technical difficulty and whatnot. ohnoes
I cannot dance. I try; desperately I try. When a song comes on that pleases me I will flail my arms and legs in some semblance of following the beat, and yet always I stop in fear of blacking an eye or accidentally starting a fistfight. My body cannot seem to keep rhythm- although my fingers are deft and my balance is good, somehow my limbs do not communicate well with my brain which in turn does not tend to process what is playing quickly enough to add any type of movement to it. Many people find this surprising- I cannot count the number of times I have been told that I have a “dancer’s frame” or that I am graceful- but evidently neither of those translate to the dance floor on a spur of the moment basis.
Choreography is different, but only slightly. Thanks largely to sheer athleticism and flexibility I am able to execute dances that are taught to me, but only because I know them. Performances always went very well or very poorly, because either I could do the dance in its entirety and do it perfectly or I could not do them at all and would stand, frozen, until I gathered up the presence of mind to simply dart offstage. Somehow my brain skipped developing the ability to compensate for being off by a single count or to ad-lib when nerves got the best of me and a few of the steps skipped my brain. In order to avoid humiliations like that one, I practiced obsessively, so for a large portion of my “career” I found myself labeled- mistakenly- as a “good dancer”. Suddenly I found myself featured in group dances, learning multiple solos, and the center of a fair number of trios. At the crux of my dance career I found soccer, promptly withdrawing from dance classes and turning down future competitions. People still talk, apparently, about how wonderful I was, what a shame and huge loss it was for the “dance community”. They were wrong. Still, to this day… I can’t dance. Nor, truthfully, should I.
04-12-2012, 01:57 AM
“You’re insane. Has anyone ever mentioned that to you before? Like, seriously… clinically insane.”
This mini-tirade earned my boyfriend a dirty look, courtesy of me, as I slammed my locker door. “You can’t say I’m clinically insane,” I informed him, replacing my lock on the little hook that would keep the door closed, snapping it shut, “because you’re a high school student. Not a doctor qualified to make clinical diagnoses. Diagnosis-es? Diagnoses.” I nodded, satisfied that I had, in fact, found the correct word at first try. “Besides,” I added, almost as an afterthought, “it’s effective.”
Dan’s look of incredulity only clarified the fact that I had failed to sway his opinion. “Whatever, Em,” he said, absentmindedly taking my binder and textbook from my arms, stacking it with his own as we headed down the hall. “Just because I’m not a doctor doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes. You’re sick. No one does this. They just write about how they do. Trust me.”
Pretending to be irritated by his horror- just as he was pretending to be far more horrified than he actually was, for the sake of flirting- I reached for my books. Too slow, my fingers didn’t even make contact with the spine, though they did catch Dan’s fingers on the way down. He squeezed my hand, keeping it in his free one. “No,” I said, “you don’t. But you don’t study, either, so it doesn’t matter whether or not your stuff is color-coded. You’ve never meant to grab your history book and accidentally grabbed your English text out of your locker and had to take a zero on your homework the next day. I’m telling you, this makes it easier. See, look.” I gestured at the binder he carried. “Blue binder. I know, right away, that’s algebra. Plus, blue book cover. Also algebra.”
“Ri-ight,” said my boyfriend. “And now you’re going to tell me that if I open this blue notebook, I’m going to find notes written in blue pen, right?” My blush must have alerted him, because his jaw dropped and so did my hand. “Oh,” he said, “come on.” He flipped open the notebook. My notes were written in pencil, but they were highlighted… well, in blue.
“And,” I added, with at least enough sense to look embarrassed now, “I write my assignments for algebra in my planner… in… blue.” He just shook his head, as if this were the saddest thing he’d ever heard.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” he said, handing over my books as we reached the door to my classroom. “Honestly. How did I end up with a nut job?” I shrugged and he rolled his eyes, kissing me on the forehead. “Ah, well,” he continued. “I guess I’ll keep you. For now. Write down this Friday in any color you want in that ridiculous planner of yours. I already made reservations for eight.” I affirmed that I would and he turned to leave. He was a few steps away when I called out to him.
“You’re green,” I yelled. I could still hear his laughter ringing down the hallway as the door slammed shut behind me.
04-12-2012, 02:19 AM
The roses are white.
All flowers are.
The grass is supposed to be a emerald green.
What’s green? And how is it like an emerald?
Emeralds are gray.
The sky is always gray. I have never seen a ‘’blue’’ sky.
Gray, gray, gray. Most things are gray.
We wear simple clothes. They are composed of the 3 colors: Black, white and gray.
Black, white and gray. Those are the only colors I know. I have never seen others.
There are stories. Of many colors. Of things called rainbows.
I’ve heard they are beautiful.
We don’t have rainbows. We have beams of gray.
Sometimes I wonder where the color went. How did it disappear?
The liberals blame it on environment destroyers
The conservatives say it’s God’s Wrath
I say it’s a myth. There’s no way there were ever any colors besides black white or gray.
There are some people who claim they can see color though.
They insist that we are all this thing called “Color Blind”.
They say that we are on an island.
On this island they will show us no color
It will make us “Color Blind”
They said we’re lab rats.
I don’t believe them. Who would be so cruel?
Why would you take away c o l o r?
I apologize for that crapiness of this poem.
04-12-2012, 02:19 AM
The wind spoke soft, pastel colors of childish memories into the night, painting the sky with wonder. The breezes whispered through the trees, awakening ancient tales as they gossiped and shared their long-forgotten stories while stars danced in a magnificent swirl of splendor above, twinkling flirtatiously as they mingled and courted in the painted sky. The bright moon shone down upon the earth, lighting up the world in blue hues of twilight. In the cities, lights scared away the night and made it a playground instead of a time of rest. In the country, folks slept cozily in their beds as the fireflies dulled their glow in order to follow suit. A zephyr so airy and hushed, caressed the ground and swept across plains, causing a set of wind chimes to stir and jingle in response. Somewhere in the trees, an owl tilted its head in interest when hearing the wind chimes and hooted. The sound startled a mouse which caused a fox to chase it. The fox ran through a forest until it lost the mouse near a pond in the woods. The water rippled and created a plethora of color under the light of moon. Greens, pinks, blues, yellows, and purples swirled with every ripple. Crickets and cicadas sounded off near the pond’s edge. Frogs and fish made swirls in the pond’s water with every jump and movement. In the middle of the forest, there was the noise, and life of the nocturnal. And color. Color where most don’t expect it to be; in the blue hues of night.
04-12-2012, 06:42 AM
"What was that?" Teekay sat up in bed, his tiny hands searching for the light switch. But after a slight pause, he dismissed the sound. "Probably just something outside..."
That was, until he heard the sound again. Bump. Bump bump.
"Okay! Not funny!" Teekay said aloud, his hands shaking slightly, desperate to turn on a light. There was someone there. Someone other than him. Phovos had gone out for the night with some friends, and she had said she'd send him a message when she was on her way back. But after scrambling to the edge of the bed (why did he get a king-sized bed when he was only the size of a child?) and lunging for his phone, he noticed that there were no messages. And it was only 11pm. Not particularly late.
It was too late for Teekay though. And the banging and bumping was scaring him. He didn't have any weapons in his bedroom though. Not since that human had come in and had asked what the syringe gun underneath his bed was.
There was a large pointy stick in Phovos's room though.
So up Teekay got, pulling on his oversized dressing gown (not that he actually wore clothes, but the dressing down made him feel better) and sneaked into Phovos's room.
Turns out, Phovos's room was empty. And the stick was right by the doorway. That was hand-
Teekay panicked and nearly dropped the large pointy stick, then picked it up again, growling. That bump came from the kitchen. There was one thing for it. Screaming like a lunatic, he leaped down the stairs and charged into the kitchen, throwing on the lights.
Phovos screamed as Teekay narrowly missed her with her stick-of-bashing, then flipped over, her tail taking a bowl of jelly with her. "What on earth, Teekay?"
Teekay skidded to a halt. "Oh. It's you."
"Of course it's me!" Phovos growled, licking jelly off her face.
"What are you doing here?" Teekay scratched his head.
"My friends never came. Must've forgotten. So I came back and raided the fridge because I was upset. Didn't you get my message?"
Teekay was about to reply, just as his phone went off.
04-12-2012, 03:01 PM
bump in the night
Neil: My girlfriend is always scared of such silly things. She's the superstitious type.
Neil: It's a whole new level of screwed up man.
Ed: Well I can imagine. Never been superstitious myself but then again with crime nowadays you don’t have to be scared of the bogey man to be scared of things that go bump in the night.
Neil: I know exactly what you mean. And that on it's own is something else that drives me crazy with all the modern technology in the world you don't feel any safer really. I mean if someone loon really wants to get into your house and made plans. Unless you live in fortknox that fucker's getting in. But that's one thing about tech, another thing about tech that pisses me off is just...
Ed: What's that?
Neil: sorry I zoned out there. Another thing about tech that drives me insane is tech always the CAUSE of things that go bump in the night. You ever been sleep and then your fucking shower head goes Spleeeshh! Or the damn drain goes grrrr, like some massive thing gargling in the bath room. Or your fridge will go gadadadadadada!!! And you're like I was nowhere near that. My girl firend is going demons! I'm going criminals don’t rape me! No one's having sex, no one's sleeping.
Ed *Lauaghs* I know what you mean. That shit drives me crazy too. If there was a burglar you're lad to see him.
Neil: I know it's like. Thank god you're here! This house is evil.
04-12-2012, 05:09 PM
Alright! Day 12! Almost halfway through the month!
Today's topic has been posted. Reminds me of our fabulous Ms Mysti, don't you think?
All topics up til Day 11 are now closed!
04-12-2012, 06:03 PM
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"
The pair of them froze, jaws hanging open.
"What. Is. Going. On?" Teekay demanded. "Don't make me repeat myself."
Thymos growled. "Mavri's talking bollocks. She wants us to..."
"To create a species! We're far superior to everyone here! Better than humans. Better than mammals. Better than reptiles. Better than bloody Bohrok!"
Teekay grunted, signalling for Mavri to shut up. "Let Thymos continue."
Mavri fell silent.
"She's insane. She seems to think that we could rule an entire planet like the humans could. This planet even! But we can't!"
"You're wrong!" Mavri burst in again. "You know it! You bloody know it! C'mon, Phovos! You're on my side, aren't you?"
Mavri and Thymos turned to the corner, where Phovos was idling away.
"Gee, thanks for dragging me into it..." Phovos sighed. "I told you, I just don't know. It does seem very over the top..."
Thymos grinned. "See, Mavri? Phovos agrees with me."
"I didn't say that!" Phovos protested. "I didn't say that at all! Mavri might have a point! It's not like the humans will accept us as we are, so maybe..." She paused, then growled. "Hey! Don't drag me into this shit!"
"Calm down, all of you." Teekay had had enough. "All this war between you is stupid..." Teekay wandered around the three children, stroking each of them in turn. "Mavri is very right to say that yes, you ought to not try and force yourselves to blend in, that you should be with others of your kind. If there are more out there of course..."
Mavri smiled, but Teekay tutted and continued.
"But Thymos is also right. You can't be over the top with this stuff! You have to think about your current situation. With just three of you, you can't announce that you're the next dominant species. Did you not read those comics I left in your room?"
Teekay sighed again. "The thing is, though, you're all fighting against each other. For anything to work, you need to be at peace. Peace. Eirini, as I say...
"Is that Greek for peace?" Phovos asked.
"Yes..." Teekay nodded. "And right now, you have none of that. Learn to love peace, and you'll become far stronger both together and alone, than if you only believe in war and hatred. Right?"
The three creatures nodded.
"Good. Now go to bed..." Teekay grinned.
I woke this morning with a feeling in my throat
like it had been devoured by some ravenous beast.
I know I don't devote,
That much time to the feelings of my throat,
But that's no reason for it to go to pieces.
Oh how I wish this ache would cease.
I just want my throat to give me peace.
And just last night I closed my little toe in the screen door,
And had to deal with many protestations from my feet,
I know I might be asking for a bruise,
When I walk around so often without any shoes,
But that's no reason for my toes to go to bleeding.
Oh how I wish this ache would cease.
I just want my toe to give me peace.
And every morning when I wake my tummy does protest,
It needs some coffee before it will eat.
I know it's not the best,
To have caffeine so soon after rest,
And the appetite supressing qualities make breakfast obsolete.
I just want to eat.
I just wish my caffeine addiction would leave me in peace.
The same - each morning when I've made my nice hot cup or two,
I have to have a cigarette to fill a similar niche.
I know it's bad to do,
May as well beat my lungs black and blue,
But those nicotine receptors refuse to admit defeat.
I don't want my lungs to weep.
That's why I wish my smoking habit would leave me in peace.
And then my lover greets me with a grumbled " 'lo. "
All coz last night we had a tiny bit of angry heat.
I know it's bad to fight,
When we just wanted to have a good night,
But sometimes he holds on for days to fights like these.
I wish relationships were a breeze.
I just want to cuddle him in peace.
Then I realise that I may have caused them all.
The fight, the habits, and my injuries.
Oh what a bore,
To know it's me whose made myself sore,
I just wish I could live perfectly.
I know that that is little more than a dream.
But I wish I could leave myself in peace.
04-13-2012, 02:44 AM
A bump in the night!
What could it be?
Is it coming for you?
Is it coming for me?
Could it be a monster, so scary and big?
Sharp teeth and bright green eyes?
Or could it be a leprechaun doing a jig?
I can only fantasize.
As I creep down the stairs,
Slowly, one by one
I feel as if I’m going to a lair.
This will not be fun.
I hold my flashlight like a sword
And then I see a rat!
I shine beam towards the source
It was merely just a hat.
I walk into the long hallway
Nervous as a cat
The paintings are staring at me
I need to get out, stat!
But I force myself to the kitchen
Where all the spices lay
I shine my light on a rather large knife
Will I see the next day?
I hear the bump
It gives me the shivers
I look at the basement
Who know what it will deliver?
I go down the steps, scared out of my wits
The bump getting loud and scary
By this time I’m ready to run
I pray to the Virgin Mary
When I shine my light on the bumping noise
It is simply my dog’s tail
So overwhelmed with emotion
I let out a happy wail
04-13-2012, 03:10 AM
"Vampires: We go bump in the night"
The hours passed painfully away after I had been gifted with what I’d like to remember as “The Mistake” rather than “The Embrace”. The days...they trickled away. And soon, the months had taken their leave, fading into the blue hue of night’s unfaithful, irresponsible darkness. The years followed suit and slipped away quietly as well, whispering their sullen goodbyes. But the decades refused me kindness and callously laughed at my misfortune, mocking my loneliness and exile. I was a vampire, shunned by my Sire and forgotten in time...why would the decades have been sweetened with welcome when all I’d ever felt and knew was the scorn of fate? To this day, crimson roses still lament the life that could have ended in joy and peace. The life that I thought could have been rich in happiness, the life that should have been mine.
I still wear the crimson roses. They lament the day I died inside and become one of the Damned. Try as I might, I can still never manage to celebrate the day I became immortal. My heart is still broken and I’ve never sought companionship as a vampire because of that day. Well, not serious or permanent companionship, anyway. Though I wasn’t in love when I was turned, I can say my heart (my metaphorical one) was broken as if I had been. I never knew Benjamin Henderson until the day I became a vampire, but I will always consider him to be my only true heartbreak. And I am so very sure he thinks the same of me. Hence the reason Benjamin swore he’d do whatever it took to never see my face ever again.
My story, although of little importance to the general history of the world, will never be forgotten by the ground where my grave should have been, right where I was reborn in the cemetery that day on May 4th, 1901 in England. I was twenty-two years old and an apprentice detective in my father’s agency. Since we were very wealthy, our odd career as detectives made the Michaelis family something of a novelty to the small town of Brackley. Everyone wanted to know why rich chaps would care about the “little people” and their problems. It seemed to me that they were suspicious of our motives. As if we were going to demand something in return for our help. My father, Ambrose Michaelis, would answer simply that that is what our family had been doing for generations and he didn’t feel right being the one to break the tradition. As a family, however, we were in it for more than just tradition. My mother and father had instilled in my brothers, sister and I that it was our duty as apart of the Michaelis family to care deeply for others, to help and to protect them. We were a family of geniuses, able to solve almost anything thrown our way. We were happy and lead rich lives filled with opportunities to travel and broaden our knowledge together. I was close with my family. A day never goes by when I don’t still think of them.
Before I became a vampire, I was wide-eyed, curious about everything, and a very free thinker. I loved to socialize any chance I got and was often the center of attention. I was gifted with a lovely face, wide green eyes, soft, full lips, an alluring figure and smooth skin. I had many suitors, most of which I never really spent much time with since I had no interest in them. It wasn’t that I feared love or romance. I wanted it, craved it. I wanted a sweetheart to love and laugh with, grow old with. I wanted a husband and children and a wonderful family with whom I could travel, study, and explore with, just as I did then with my family. But gentlemen came and went and I never really felt the amorous blush of love I so often witnessed on the face of my younger sister who constantly sought the young men in Brackley. Being the oldest, I took the role of leader and let her know as often as I could that her romantic endeavors were inappropriate and unlady-like. Mary never cared. Her lashes would flutter as she sighed and said softly, “Dear sister, he was ever so handsome and lovely.” I scolded her outwardly, but inside I yearned for the long nights out with a handsome, charming young man who I could share everything with, even my life. My blushing young heart waited for the day that such a man would make an appearance in my life. But I was so focused on my career as a detective, I always just figured I had my whole life ahead of me to wait for whoever he was. At the time, being the most interesting and beautiful woman at the center of the circle at balls and such, I was content. I couldn’t have asked for more. My life was perfect.
And then my first solo case was given to me. They had found a body on the outskirts of town and no one knew whose it was. This was the case I was given to investigate. I was to do more research than actual solving, but I was completely bent on finding out who this person was and why they had been found dead near Brackley. Though it was one of the most challenging cases to be given to a new detective, my father thought I was responsible and smart enough to handle it. I had done several days of research, reviews, and investigating when I finally got a lead on who the body could belong to. I had received a letter from Silverstone, the next town over, informing me that a local named Alice Pembridge knew the identity of the corpse. So in my excitement, I traveled to Silverstone alone, my family wishing me well on my first case, and met with the Chief Inspector of the town. I was told Alice had agreed to meet me in an obscure location. Inspector Radison told me that the body was Alice’s son who was a thief and a criminal. She was very ashamed of him and didn’t want to be associated with him in any way. So instead of making it very obvious to her loved ones in Silverstone that she was connected with her fugitive son, Alice wanted her involvement in the case to be kept a secret. At least until I got back to Brackley. I was told I was to meet her before sunrise in the Silverstone cemetery, out of the view of the rest of the town, the next day. I spent the night in one of the inns and went to bed excited that the case was finally coming together after so much work. Little did I know, when morning came, it would transform the rest of my days on this earth from then on.
In the darkness of the cemetery, I stood in the morning mist before the sun had risen, my pistol and dagger ready in case of danger, and my note pad, pen and briefcase of investigative equipment ready for anything unexpected or otherwise. My pistol was tucked in a hidden pocket in my dress, close to my hip. I kept my dagger in my garter. And the rest of everything else was kept in my briefcase. I wore a dark brown dress and a matching hat adorned with crimson roses, a small, black, netted veil hung over my eyes. The garb I would wear to my own funeral. I wondered if, in my haste and excitement, I had made it there too early. As I was busy calculating the estimated time that Alice would arrive, I felt a hand wrap fondly around my waist and heard the silkily spoken words that were my last comfort as a human, “At last, we can be united, my love.” I posed no threat to Benjamin as he grasped me. I felt immobilized as his teeth and his hunger stole my blood, there was a faint, quick blackness and then I felt his cold skin to my lips...his wrist. I tasted blood. The sweetest thing I’d ever tasted. My mind tried to reason that blood shouldn’t have had an appealing taste at all, but too much had happened too fast for me to oppose or approve or cry or laugh. That May morning held no favor for me and it showed it well. I felt as if everything I knew abandoned me. It had all gone. Joy, life, breath, warmth. All was lost and somewhere deep inside I knew this loss was not temporary.
It was a quicker change than I expected. Or at least it felt that way. The brief blackness that had come over me could have lasted much, much longer, but my memory doesn’t serve me well when it comes to that particular event. I remember seeing his face as I looked up. Benjamin had lifted me into his arms, my cheek resting on his shoulder as he carried me. I felt like a sleepy child as the cloudy words left my lips. “What happened?” It was that exact moment when Benjamin had stopped dead in his tracks, looked under the short veil, and removed my hat. It was then that he realized I wasn’t Morgan, the woman who he was supposed to bite. His eyes widened. At first he looked shocked and apologetic. Then the hate came in waves and crashed upon my shore unforgivingly as he tossed my hat to the ground and said, “Is this some kind of joke?” I had no idea what was going on. My body ached, I felt the change...and apparently I wasn’t who he was looking for. He set me gently upon the ground, even though I could tell by his body language he would rather have thrown me to the floor, then he dashed away, the vision of him seeming to meld with the mist. I didn’t know his name, so I cried out in desperation for him to come back and help me. I was scared and alone and my first reaction was to hurry back to Silverstone. Something inside told me I could no longer be around people. I had this insatiable hunger, this ever growing thirst for blood. As confused as I was, I knew it was best to give it at least the rest of the day until the thing that bit me would come back. So I sought out a hiding place.
Since Benjamin left before he could even see me fully become a vampire, I walked around the desolate cemetery in this thing that couldn’t possibly have been my body and wondered where he had gone. At the time, I didn’t know his name or how to find him or what to do. I looked down and noticed my skin was growing pale...my heart no longer beat. I decided Alice couldn’t see me. And as I realized this, I grabbed my hat and my briefcase and ran further into the cemetery. I remember, after a time, the sun began to rise and in my panic, I used my lock-picking kit from my briefcase to pick the lock on someone’s mausoleum and rushed in, slumping to the floor as the sun outside rose. I stayed there until night, crying as the realization dawned on me that I could never see my family again. I was a beast of the shadows. A monstrosity and a menace to society. I was one of the Damned.
Benjamin came back to find me that night. He slammed the stone door, showing his extraordinary strength and stood behind me. He was not friendly in manner, though he brought me a sheep to tame my hunger. I was so weak that I didn’t even question or care about having to bite into its still-warm body and rob it of it’s blood. A trickle of blood ran down my chin as I finished feeding and turned on him a little angrily and said, “This can’t happen to me! This is only the stuff of folk-lore and horror stories...there are no such things as-” He cut me off. “Vampires? There’s no such thing as vampires?! You say this though you clearly are one yourself. You have fangs and a heart that doesn’t beat. You just fed on sheep’s blood. My dear, you have no room to try and dismiss this as fantasy!” He sounded amused at first and then the angry melancholy came back. “I don’t care to know your name, but I am Benjamin Henderson, your...Sire.” He said the word reluctantly and turned away from me. “You may have become a vampire, but you weren’t meant to.” I furrowed my brows and shouted, “Well it isn’t my fault! I never agreed to become a...v-vampire! I never wanted...” I waved my hands down my body in a gesture to show him what was wrong with me. “...this. I never wanted this!” Benjamin punched a wall and a sob escaped. “Morgan was supposed to meet me in the cemetery today with red roses to mark her hat. We were going to be companions...” He turned on his heel and screamed, “I loved her! And yet I spent my time with you when I could have been saving her from the carriage accident that killed her on the way to meet with me! This may not have been what you wanted, but consider it payment. A trade. Morgan’s life for yours!” He paused and turned away from me again, as if I were this disgusting monster he couldn’t bear to look at. “You may be my Childer, but I never want to see you again. I will do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.” I remember feeling a sense of great loss and I cried out, “No! I...I haven’t the faintest idea of what all this entails...I need someone to teach me.” I gently laid a hand on Benjamin’s arm. “Please.” I said it so softly. Begging him. I couldn’t be alone in this. He grabbed my wrist firmly and flung it away. “I hate you, understand that! I never want to see you again, you mistake! I am going far away from here...do not seek me. I will want nothing to do with you, do you understand?” Before I could even agree or disagree, Benjamin was gone. And he would remain that way ‘til this day and maybe for forever.
I wandered the streets of Brackley every night after that. Weeks went by and my family searched for me. As I sat upon the roof of what used to be my home, I heard their voices, low and sad and yet they still spoke of the hope that I would be recovered and brought home safely. I ravenously fed on small animals in the forests near the town such as rats, birds, and the occasional deer, refusing to kill another human being. I did this every night and then hid somewhere near my forlorn home where I personally witnessed my family’s hearts break one by one. Three months went by and in August they finally gave in and held my funeral. I watched from the shadows of the night as they lingered there for sometime, somber as the sun abandoned the sky.
August 14th, 1901, I left Brackley, England to travel to London where I knew there had to be other vampires. I needed to know what responsibilities came with my position as an undead creature of the night. I was right to assume London was where I would find my answers. At night I roamed the alleyways, looking for the shady type with fangs. I found a few Brujah but after being subjected to much criticism, too many questions and being dealt with in a coarse, unwelcoming manner, I decided that we had too many differing opinions. I moved on and lived in poverty, hiding in abandoned buildings by day and at night I kept an eye out for those who would accept me as one of their own and teach me everything I needed to know about being a vampire. But the days went on and I never found a group that accepted me.
October came and I had taken to walking the alleyways at night rather than hiding myself from the world in my hovel. One particular night, I heard a sound that lifted my spirits near a rather large building I assumed to be an opera house or dance hall. It was the voice of a woman speaking in the distance. I made my way to the cracked door of the building and listened in, hearing the rest of the woman’s speech. “...Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die,
passing through nature to eternity.” I recognized the play as Hamlet and decided I must have happened upon a theater. As I was peering through the door, I felt a hand on my wrist and was whipped into the building and swept away behind one of the curtains near the door. I turned to see my ‘captor’, ready to go off on a rant, when the thought struck me that this could have been a human. Mortals would kill me on sight if they knew what I was and I hadn’t the faintest clue of how to properly and smoothly hide my true nature as a vampire. I was afraid of humans so I didn’t speak and just nodded, backing away. The person who brought me there was a woman who had whisked me backstage. She had short black hair done up in a swirl adorned with a couple of ribbons and some gems. She wore nothing but a leotard and a pair of ballet slippers. The woman slipped a finger to her lips and hushed me, smiling. I could see her fangs briefly before she retracted them and took my hand, rushing me further backstage. “I’m on for the next play so I have some time before then.” I still didn’t speak. Part of me was excited to find another vampire and another part was afraid she had intended to kill me. “Relax, I could tell from your scent that you were a vampire. I used my skills to smell and hear you behind the door. You smell...new.” I nodded and before I could speak, the woman spoke up quickly and said, seeming a bit embarrassed, “Oh, how rude of me...I am Maxine. I’m a Toreador vampire, as you might have guessed.” Maxine puffed out her chest proudly, seeming rather pleased to announce what I didn’t understand at the time. “Actually, I didn’t guess. I don’t even know what that is.” I extended my hand. “I’m Iridiana...nice to meet you, Maxine.” Her mouth hung open in wonder as I shook her hand. “You mean...” I looked away and crossed my arms. “I don’t know much about vampires.” I said softly and ashamedly. “Dear girl, who is your Sire? You should have learned these things a long, long time ago!” Even though Maxine whispered, her words held a dramatic disbelief. Though her reaction was theatrical, something in her touch and in her eyes told me her concern was genuine. “It was an accident. I...I wasn’t even supposed to be bitten. I haven’t met a clan that accepted me without thinking I was a spy or something...” Maxine furrowed her brows and pouted her lower lip. She placed her arm around my shoulders saying, “Won’t you walk with me, love? I am most positive we can find a place for you here within the Toreadors.” She stopped walking and looked over at me, her amused gaze searching my face. “Do you enjoy, theater, darling?” I nodded and replied, “I’ve attended many plays in Spain and France and all over the world.” Maxine tilted her head curiously. “Well then can you sing?” I nodded. “To some extent. The people in B....um...the town where I used to live, when I was alive...they thought I was good.” The vampire tossed her head back and chuckled warmly, “Good, good. You’ll fit in just fine here, darling. Most excellently.”
It took five years before my talent had been perfected, cultivated, and recognized famously. The whole theater was owned and run by Toreador vampires. They all took the time to teach me in the ways of the Damned and a few taught me how to sing much better than I ever had been able to when I was alive. Maxine had become my best friend and was my loyal sidekick through and through. She always knew exactly how to persuade the other vampires of the theater so it was easy for her to rally participation in helping me become a ‘real’ vampire. I had learned the ways of my kindred and trained hard in order to be able to hide my true nature among humankind. I had finally taken control of my hunger and fed on animals and humans alike, but usually only those who I found to be despicable or who hadn’t had long left to live. I had heard horror stories within my clan that many famous Toreadors in the past were discovered for their talent, became famous and then had to go into hiding forever once people realized they didn’t age, practically banned from ever being able to be seen on stage ever again. So when the offer to be the lead actress in any play, I either turned it down or wore a mask during my parts. People in London who regularly attended the events at our theater, Troubador’s Misery, began to notice my reluctance to be known. When I had been asked to played the leading lady in my first opera, I was so thrilled, I couldn’t refuse. The night of the show, I wore a veil that covered my eyes so the audience could only see the bottom half of my face and wore a different colored wig than what I normally did. I had become famous for my ever-changing appearance, which drew more business to the theater since I had become known by the majority as “Il Soprano Velato ” meaning “The Veiled Soprano”. I had my fun. It was a good run, but after thirty years I went into hiding with the rest of my clan as we migrated and evolved our interests purposely in order to better remain unknown for what we really were. We dabbled in visual art, music, theater, literature...for a time, we even traveled with the Romani, the gypsies of Romania. I learned much more about the world, more than I thought I ever could know.
Today, we still travel. We disperse every once in awhile and go our separate ways but my clan always finds one another somehow. I lead a good life as a vampire. Currently studying the art culture in America, I am rather content. I float around wherever I wish, free at heart, always in touch with Maxine, however. Somewhere around the fifty year mark, I had to get a new gun and dagger so I traded mine in for a decent pistol and top knotch dagger, much more durable, more reliable items. I made all these little changes to my life just to fit the times, kept my wealth a secret and dressed myself to fit the fashion of wherever the times took me. I live in a decent house, not too flashy since I move around a lot. I would like to think I have adapted to the times rather nicely, but every once in awhile I still dress as I would have before The Embrace. I suppose I am just stuck in the past.
My story could have ended rather tragically sometime back, but it didn’t. So I do my best not to dwell on it. Still. On a cold night in a hotel somewhere, I find myself standing out on the balcony, staring at the moon and entertaining the idea that somewhere Benjamin is looking at that same moon. I’d like to believe he still thinks of me. And I wonder if even after a hundred years he still despises me. Or if he stares at that moon and listens within to find that his dead heart beats, just once, for me, as mine does for him every so often. Today I travel where I want, still wearing the roses, in search of the beautiful things in earth, creature, canvas, paper and sound alike. I fill that empty void in my life with the idea that my story is a tragic work of art on its own. But anyone can tell the difference between a beautiful lie and the ugly truth. Mine is only an ugly truth I wish to pass as a lovely mistake. Well, I suppose my history is buried along with the life I don’t have and the one I pretend to as I step gingerly around the ballroom of life, ever on my toes and waiting for the next spin. And so it goes; the masquerade of the history that I hide from the world, the masquerade of the difference between right and wrong, and the masquerade we vampires collectively take part in to hide what we are with what we could only wish to be. It will never end.
04-13-2012, 06:46 AM
Peace is done. It doesn’t want to do its job anymore. He can be found hanging out with another oldie in hiding, The Funk. Everyone just think Peace and The Funk are dead. Truth is, they both kinda decided to go into hiding a few years after JFK was assassinated. Some of you probably already know The Funk’s story, but nobody but me knows all about Peace and what happened to him. It was just after World War II when Peace was invented. Unlike The Funk, Peace was never a funky ball of teets from outer space. Peace was born of a mad scientist’s explosion and escaped into the world and was picked up by John Lennon in 1961. Peace is a little green blob that spat out sprinkles and glitter whenever it passed gas. They would make it eat brussel sprouts and bring it out tour with them. The fans were happy, but soon Peace got passed on over to JFK and everyone in the country was happy. As long as the president kept Peace all full of bean burritos and junk food, he farted out all the glitter and sprinkles that were needed to please the nation. But he started to feel used and no one liked to make conversation with him anymore. They kept him in a cold dark room and never invited him to dinner parties on account of his gas. So one day he ran away with Elvis. After hangin’ out with him sometime, on April 7, 1967, Peace asked that Elvis toss him out into the sea. He took Peace out on a row boat and tossed the sparkly little guy overboard like the woman that threw the heart of the ocean off the Titanic. Or something. And then I found him when he sunk to the bottom and invited him to come live with me in my underwater cave. I introduced Peace and The Funk, and the two have been best friends since, livin’ in a box in my cave.
04-13-2012, 09:29 AM
A bump in the night.
Bob: Did you hear? that?
Nasu: No, hear what?
A noise is heard coming from the next room, Bob looks again, Nasu doesn't flinch, it seems she can't hear it.
Bob: There, that noise.
Nasu: No, I swear if you're trying to trick me again like last time...
Bob: I'm not! It was real!
Nasu: rolling her eyes Yes I'm sure dear.
Bob: Why won't you believe me?
Nasu: Because I am busy, look what was it that you wanted to talk to me about anyway.
Bob: Suspiciously How did you know I wanted to talk about something?
Nasu: Because why else would you be here? You know I need to finish this report.
Bob: Oh, yeah, right. Sorry.
Nasu: It's fine, just pit out what you wanted to tell me.
Bob: Well, I just... Bob mulls over what he's wishing to tell Nasu but he finds it difficult I was thinking about the other day in the park.
Nasu: Oh Bob! Really? Come on that was nothing.
Bob: No I know but, it's just gotten into my head.
Nasu: That we didn't help her out?
Bob: Yeah, we should have done something.
Nasu: Like what?
Bob: I dunno, given her some food, money, anything.
Nasu: Beggars are beggars for a reason Bob, you don't just become one overnight.
Bob: Heh? How do you know? I can't expect it's a life choice.
Nasu: Well whatever, I honestly don't see why it should have been us ho had to help her.
Bob: Because she came to us and asked us. She was polite too, there was no reason we couldn't have given her some food.
Nasu: Yes there is, we bought it, it's ours.
Bob: We had more than enough, we'd enjoyed our picnic Nasu, we should have given her some.
Nasu: And that's honestly what's bothering you?
Bob: Well, yes, mostly.
Nasu: Are you sure it's nothing else.
Bob: Urm... evidently he is no?
Nasu: Oh come on Bob, give over! You're worried about what she said, about 'the curse'
Bob: Well aren't you worried?
Nasu: No, why should I be? She begins to wave her arms in despair Oh no misfortune will befall me boo hoo.
This time the noise occurs again, much louder, a big thud from the room next door
Nasu: What the fuck was that?
Bob: I have no idea.
Nasu: Well, go check, I need these papers done by, like now.
Bob: I thought you said next Friday.
Nasu: No this one.
Bob: But today isn't...
Nasu: Oh no.
Bob: Friday the 13th.
04-14-2012, 03:16 AM
Clarity walked the streets of Detroit, shoulders hunched, her eyes looking out for any suspicious people. This was a dangerous city, and she was only 13. Who knows what could happen to her there? She pulled her coat around her tighter and continued to her apartment complex. She pressed the buzzer to her apartment room and was quickly let in by her mother.
“Oh thank goodness you’re safe!” she said embracing me. She smelt like stale cigarettes and vanilla. There was a twinkle in her eye, “When your father gets home, we have a special surprise for you.”
Excited, Clarity’s eyes widened and a big smile slipped on her face. “What is it?”
Her mom smiled at her. “You’ll see. You just have to wait for your father.”
Clarity nodded and happily skipped up her steps to her room. She thought about her move. Coming from Wylie, Texas to Detroit, Michigan was such a different experience. It was very dangerous here. Within a month of moving in, their house had already been broken into to, and she had been attacked once. Luckily, both incidents left her alive. She looked up at her ceiling were a big peace sign was drawn. She stood up on her bed and jumped up and down, trying to touch the symbol. When her fingers brushed the drawing, a jolt of energy was sent through her, causing her to pass out. When she woke up she was in a grassy field.
“Where- where am I?” she wondered. It seemed like a paradise. The grass she sat on was soft, the skies a clear blue. The weather was a bit hot, but with the light wind, it balanced out. Her parents laid on a picnic blanket. Her mom was laughing and her dad looked relaxed. Clarity walked over them, a little surprised to see them so calm.
“Mom? Dad? Where are we?” She asked, a bit dazed.
Her mom laughed and gestured towards a picnic basket. “Relax. Have a slice of olive and pepperoni pizza. I know it’s your favorite.”
Clarity reached into the basked and sure enough, there was her favorite food. She picked it up and took a large bite. Mmm. “How did we get here?” she asked, her mouth full of pizza.
Her dad shrugged. “It’s hard to get here. It’s usually easiest to get to in your sleep, or when you’re unconscious. It’s Peace. You can’t linger for here for too long Clarity. It’s not wise. But whenever you need to escape. Just come here.”
Clarity smiles. “But how do I get out?” In a blink, she is on her bed. She looks up at the peace sign on her ceiling. Her dad comes on, tired, but with a smile on his face.
“Hey Clara. You ready to go?” he asks, giving his daughter a hug.
“I have a better idea,” Clarity said, her eyes sparkling, “I’ve found…peace.”
04-14-2012, 08:36 AM
Ed: I've got a nine millimetre! Ready to go off any minute so you fee. Because of the law I had to conceal it. But if you fuck around you gonna make me reveal it.
Neil: What the hell was that?
Ed: It's a stupid assed song I have stuck in my head. I'm not even a big Akorn fan but that stupid assed song will forever be embedded in my skull.
Neil: I know the feeling but I generally like the sings stuck in my head. Like Offspring - Bad habit. "Open the glove box reach inside, gonna wreck this fuckers ride because I got a bad habit. Of a blowing away."
Ed: *Laughs* An unusual amount of gun talk in our heads.
Neil: I know there can't be any peace with the piece hidden in my back pocket.
Ed: We both know you're not packing heat right now.
Neil: Yeah but that's because we're on a plane you dumbass. Any way I do own a gun, shit I own two.
Ed: And you bought them legally?
Neil: That's some racist bullshit man.
Ed: You live in the townships man. It's not racism, it's common sense.
Neil: That's bulshit.
Ed: Are both your guns legal.
Neil: Fuck no. I'm going to shoot someone with my own gun? You must be joking.
Ed: See that's the bullshit man. There's really no point. Any mother fucker who steps up on you has the jump o you anyway right? So there's a massive chance you're going just get your gun stolen. So what's the point and I've seen you throw. I have no doubt that the safest place to be in a gun fight with you is who ever your aiming at.
04-14-2012, 03:24 PM
When is 13 and 14?
04-14-2012, 08:01 PM
Lights go up on Mason who sits at a table with some a large amount of what could only be described as ‘bits and bobs’, unless you happened to be a bomb expert, then you would clearly realise that in fact the wires and different clocks are all materials to make, yes you got it, a bomb.
Mason is in his early twenties. His hair is unkempt and shabby, his eyes have large dark circles underlining them and he looks rather pale. His attire is again shabby. His countenance is one of unrest, he seems constantly agitated, indecisive and lost.
He sits at his ‘work bench’ with the numerous items and his head is in his hands, his hair sticking out in tufts between his fingers. He lifts up his head and looks directly into the audience, seemingly a little offended, as if they’ve just insulted him.
Mason: I’m not crazy you know. It’s just the ticking it sets me on edge. The clocks, they’re ticking. Always ticking. Mocking me for the time it’s taken me to realise the truth. But now that I know the truth it’s all okay, it’s all good, there’s no problems with me anymore.
Mason stands and looks down to one of the clocks, smiling he picks it up and places it to his ear.
Mason: Tick, tick tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tick. Do you hear it laughing? Playing it’s little song, mocking me. But it doesn’t have any power anymore. No. I do. I have the power now, not the clocks. I’m the one making them into a fucking bomb. I’m crafting them into something of my design, something that will make a beautiful explosion at the mosque and send those bastard moors packing. Or maybe I’ll stick it in Canal Street, show those puffs what it really means to be fucked over.
Walks a little closer to the audience now coming from behind his table to the front left corner.
Mason: That’s the thing about this city, Manchester. There’s so much scum around that the city has become sick with all sorts of sin and disgust. All these ‘minorities’ are polluting my air with their acrid stench, filling my lungs with their Satanist shit and time’s just passing by allowing them to propagate, spread their heathen diseases and manifest in a greater number. All the while the clock’s just ticking away. That constant fucking ticking goes on and on but sometimes it just needs to stop sometimes it just needs to shutup!
Mason throws the clock down and stamps down upon it with great vehemence.
Mason: There, that should stop the fucking ticking.
Con1, the first side of Mason’s conscience
Con1: There’s no need to overreact Mason. Shit, I wish you were just normal, then people wouldn’t dislike us so much.
Mason: People dislike us because you always have to but in. People would agree with me if you didn’t hold me back.
Con1: No one agrees with you.
Mason: I don’t care, I will make peace.
04-14-2012, 09:37 PM
*Checks thread* Oh my. Thirteen and fourteen still aren't out yet. o.O This makes Old Gregg sad. v.v
04-15-2012, 12:57 AM
Ok, so I'm a dummy and apparantly didn't do yesterday. So today, we get another two-fer-one. You'll get an extra day on it, k? K.
Anne is the worst contest holder of all time, I guess.
New themes updated! Old themes closed! See first post yadda yadda yadda.
This name changing thing is throwing me off. XD
The Letters I never Sent You.
There was a time,
for almost two years,
When I wrote to you every day.
Many a rhyme I wrote
brought be to tears,
But I needed to write down what I couldn't say.
And truthfully it
never did any good,
For I never could actually tell you,
The way my heart lit,
and then died underfoot,
Every time the desire to love me befell you,
Then you'd play for a while,
never seeing the wrong,
in the way you'd intentionally throw me,
with that self-satisfied smile,
you'd string me along,
knowing all the while that you owned me.
But in the letters I wrote you,
I told you you'd used me,
I poured out everything you'd done to hurt me,
But all the love I'd devote you!
If only you knew me!
Oh please, oh my sweet, don't desert me!
You told me once,
That I was your best friend,
And that you were so into me,
But next day you ignored me,
Hand in hand with the next friend,
But still you insisted you wanted me, knew me,
In the letters I wrote to you,
I could always keep my cool,
But I could never refuse your face,
So instead of say no to you,
I stopped going to school,
And so I avoided those familiar ways,
But I still wrote you a letter,
Every day, sometimes two,
Even though I saw nought of you for months,
My heart felt no better,
with the absence of you,
And I wept at what I had become.
So I lit a nice fire,
And I gathered my papers,
And onto the flames, all of them I threw,
And I watched my desire,
go up in the vapours,
And I watched them turn to ash, all my memories in letters to you.
04-15-2012, 02:34 AM
It is a lake.
It is a sunrise.
It is a candle.
It is a nap.
It is… Jesus. It is boring.
Peace is for old age- for people that don’t have better things to do. While perhaps it is wise to sit at home with a good book and a purring cat- perhaps it is enriching- it is not fun. Peace is fine for the elderly, for even the middle-aged. For the young, however… peace is a tragedy.
The young should seek no peace. Life should be frantic, frenzied. Things should be done quickly and with enthusiasm and- yes, sometimes- even sloppily. Meticulous attention to detail has no place between the ages of eighteen to twenty seven. Youth should be about road trips to nowhere and running for the sheer joy of going fast. Sleep deprived with lost voices from shouting and saltwater air. Praying fervently when an exam hits your desk that somehow, somehow the information is just there- whether it winds up in your brain or on the paper makes no difference, you just need it now. Drinking until you’re actually thirsty, and then drinking some more. Falling in love and having your heart broken, over and over again, the ups and the downs almost equally pleasurable and excruciating at the same time. Youth is hysterical laughter over inappropriate jokes, youth is dancing with strangers and shoes that hurt and borrowed clothes. Youth is perfect. Peace is boring.
04-15-2012, 02:58 AM
Did you get them? The letters I sent you? I know you must have, because you cashed my check, and now my savings account is empty. Good, I wanted to help you. One of your friends said you were broke because you spent your money on crack. I don’t know what he meant by that- did you finally get that crack in your wall fixed? I didn’t think it would take you that much money to fix it. You should probably check on the internet next time to see if someone will do it for cheaper! I know it’s not a lot- eighty-seven dollars and sixteen cents- but it’s everything I have. It’s my life savings, but I wanted to give them to you. So I know you got the envelope and the check, but did you get the letter, too? I dunno If somebody would open the envelope, steal the letter, and leave the check… so you must have gotten it. Then why didn’t you write back? I just… I’m sorry. I wanted to be your sister. Like, your real sister. We are really related, so I figured it wouldn’t be that hard for you. I just wanted to know… why did you leave? I was four, you were fifteen. I thought you loved me. I sure did love you- you were my hero. All I wanted to do when I got home was color with you, or listen to your cool band play in our garage. Do you remember that one time you tried to teach me to play? You got frustrated in like ten minutes, but that was still the best ten minutes of my whole life.
I just… I miss you so much. Mom had another baby, and we named her Mary Ellen. It makes me sad to think that she never even got to meet our big brother. You’ll come back soon, though, right? I relaly hope that you do. I mean, you have to- you have to come back home so you can talk to Mom and Dad about what school you’re going to for college. You are going to college, right? Dad will love you either way, but Mom will be real upset if you don’t.
I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m so, so, so sorry that we weren’t good enough. I tried. I tried so hard not to be annoying when you came home, I was just excited to see you. I loved you so much. Everyone did, even if you made silly choices sometimes. Dad misses you a lot, I can tell. He gets all sad when we’re in the baby’s room, because it’s your old room and nobody knows if you’re coming back.
Write me back this time, please. Please, Tyler. I just want to know that you’re okay. I’ll send more money if I can.
04-15-2012, 03:35 AM
“The moon is bright tonight.” I look over at Matthew and I realize that my ability to do so proves his statement. I can see him in perfect detail- even if I didn’t, I would still know exactly what he looks like standing before me. I have long since committed the way he looks, the clothes he wears, even his charming little mannerisms to memory- my personal favorite is when he says something self-deprecating and I laugh and that cute little flush travels up the back of his neck. I take his hand because suddenly I am brimming with affection and I feel like I must touch him nor or else something very bad is going to happen. He squeezes my hand gently when I take it, his startlingly white teeth glimmering in the outside light. “Want to go sit for a little while?”
We’re at a local shopping center, but recently we have discovered –together- that there is a hidden courtyard. You can see out but unless you know exactly where to look and do so with a precise eye at the exact right moment you would never be able to see who is perched there. For a moment I hem and haw- yes, it is pretty but I am hungry, I’ve been looking forward to dinner all day- and, finally, after he points out that he made reservations for ten minutes from now anyway- I cave, and we head to “our spot”. Once there, I gasp. “Matt,” I breathe. “Did you… did you do this?” He is standing there in silence, as I take a step forward, taking it all in. It is beautiful. I nearly run straight into the waiter from our favorite restaurant- he is standing in the courtyard, pen poised over his notepad, ready to write down whatever it is we desire. After ordering, he scurries away to give us our privacy. “Matt, I whisper. “This… this is beautiful. You did this for me?” He nods and I take another step to take it all in. The courtyard is small- perhaps ten feet in diameter- and tonight, it is all ours. He has strung twinkle lights everywhere- in the shrubs surrounding us, over the bench we sit on, even under the blanket. There are pillows and a bottle of wine already, and now I am crying. Weeping openly.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, genuine concern on his face. “Are you alright, Em?” All I can do is nod, my fingers to my lips. Slowly, I lower them, reach for his fingers and kiss the tips of them.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “This is perfect.” There’s that blush I know creeping up his neck, and I long to kiss it. Instead, I grin widely at him, and he returns the expression. “Shall we sit?” I ask, and he nods, pulling out a pillow for me. The lights are beneath the blanket as well, giving it a warm and pleasant glowing effect. I do not know when my boyfriend became an artist, but that is exactly what this is.
“I just thought,” he said, as he settles onto another pillow- the less cushioned one, I note, and I think that is sweet, “that, you know, since it’s so pretty out tonight… the moon is so big… we should take advantage of it. We live in a beautiful place, Em. Sometimes I just get so caught up with how beautiful you are that I don’t think it matters. It does. The stars, the lights, the moon- none of these things, even put together, are as beautiful as you are, sitting right across from me. I just thought we might let them try, once in a while.”
I hope, I decide at that very moment, that this man asks me to marry him. And I hope that our wedding is under a moon as bright and as big as this one. I am so in love with this man.
04-15-2012, 06:19 AM
I had no idea there was a new topic X_X Whipped this out fast XD
Ed: Hey man, I'm about to tell you something you have to promise not to laugh.
Neil: Hells no, I can't promise that. If something's funny it's funny.
Ed: That's fine then never mind man.
Neil: Look I'm sorry I promise I will do my best to hold it in. Now talk to me.
Ed: Fine. Remember Susan?
Neil: What about that bitch?
Ed: I was thinking about her. You know I used to send her letters about twice a week.
Neil: Damn you actually pulled through with that shit?
Neil: Well writing letters is something that's a true bastard to complete nowadays isn't it. With Email, IMs phone calls, Skype etc etc. Writing a letter is pretty much obsolete, I mean if you can't afford some form of electronic communication you most likely can't afford a mailbox, let alone afford the education to fucking read the letter. So how long did you make it last?
Ed: A year.
Neil: Holy shit man.
Ed: Yeah man. I would tell her I loved her so much it hurt. I would tell her things about me. You know things she would have learned one way or the other. I told her reasons that I love her.
Neil: That's some soppy shit man.
Ed: Screw you man. You know I loved her man. That shit was deep.
Neil: The only thing that was deep was the bloody river of tears and fat girl ice cream. That was what we all had to drown in.
Ed: It wasn't that bad.
Neil: It totally was if I ever meet Susan I am going to throw a bucket of water on her and give her a dry cleaning bill for all thee tears you cried and for all the jackets you ruined crying on my shoulder.
Ed: fuck off man
Neil: Just playing.
04-15-2012, 07:44 AM
You didn't get them, did you, brother? All the messages I sent you? Hundreds of them. Once a week. You ran away and never saw them.
None the less, I still sent them. Letter after letter. Note after note. Message after message. I even tried emailing you and texting you and sending every form of communication I could get my hands on. All begging for you to come home. I left them everywhere, hoping that maybe you'd see one.
I don't know where you went, Tahnok. You disappeared one night. You burst into my quarters, tears streaming from your beautiful blue eyes. You could barely talk. You were heart broken. Screaming incoherent words and phrases at me. And you were bleeding. I did my best to calm you down and wrap your wounds but you wouldn't let me. You pushed me away and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Literally. Gone in a flash.
I ran outside and called out your name. A million times. But you never answered. Whatever happened to you that night had torn out your heart and warped your mind.
I've tried not to give up hope on you, that maybe you're still alive somewhere, but it's been ten years now. I did everything I could. I tried everything I couldn't. I did my best, and maybe even that was not enough.
Ten years, I have hoped that you might return one day. Ten bloody, cold, relentless years.
You probably died that night, and no one ever knew.
I'm sorry, Tahnok.
Lehvak blinked. Where the hell was he? There was no atmosphere. No nothing. Just dust. Lots and lots of dust. Glittering in the shadows like a sea of, well, dust. Oh, there were craters too. But they were just as dull as the glittery dust.
The world was dark. There was no light pretty much. Lehvak knew he was in space, but shouldn't he be seeing more stars or something? Or at least flickers from a nearby star? There was the odd twinkle in the sky, but nothing definite. Could have been anywhere. For all he knew, he could have been on a meteor zooming through space at a billion miles an hour. But that was just being silly.
There was no wind either. Nothing.
This depressed Lehvak slightly, until he saw a glint in the dust about five or ten miles away. So he struggled to his feet. Maybe if he walked for a bit, he'd feel better.
Big mistake. Gravity was not his friend here. It felt incredibly weird being, what, 1/6th of his normal weight? Yeah, something like that. He could leap pretty bloody far though, and pretty soon he was there.
It was a piece of junk. Human junk. Like the remains of a spaceship. But it was intact junk. Working junk. Old, but working.
Lehvak didn't need working though. He needed to get home. That was the moment that he looked up and saw it. He wondered why he didn't notice it earlier.
Earth. Above him.
"Ah, I'm on the moon!" Lehvak smiled. "I know what to do now..."
04-15-2012, 05:01 PM
Day 15 has been added, day 12 has been closed!
You get an extra day for 13, so it will close with 14 tomorrow.
Does that make sense? Are you sure?
I'll update who's been writing later today! :D
HALF WAY THROUGH THE MONTH AND YOU GUYS ARE ROCKING IT!!!
04-15-2012, 08:04 PM
April 13: The letters I sent you...
This is a letter to someone special to me, and I hope you like it.
It's me again, and I miss you so much. I write to you all the time, just thinking about the times we shared. It's funny when I remember laying in bed with you eating those circus peanuts, laughing over nothing. It's something I've always thought about; one of my favorite memories.*
You know, some people say I don't have the right to miss you, but why? Just because I didn't spend as much time with you as they did? I don't think that's right, you were so important to me, and I miss every second of it.
I mean I was so young, but it was like it was just yesterday. The days you started to get paler, and skinnier, and just flat out sick.
My frail arms held you, but there wasn't much I could do. My small hands fit into yours, and it was such bitter sweet times.*
I knew you would go at some point, but then again I just couldn't believe it. The most important man in my life was going to die, how could I deal with that? I love you so much, and I wish you could come back out to me.*
Maybe I was to young, but I could still understand. I'm sorry that I let you down later in life, with all the mistakes I've made.*
From two to eighteen in a matter of years, and in went through life without you here to help me, but I do know you're always in my heart. I love you, and don't you ever forget it.
I love you grandpa,
Your baby hazel Cassandra.
April 14: The moon
I know, it's not good lol.
As I gaze at the moon,
and thank all about you,
My heart begins to clench,
because I miss you so much.
The day you went and died,
my heart was filled with regret,
I didn't say the words I should've,
and I lost you to the sky above.
You're so sweet, caring, nice, and kind,
while I'm lost in my own confused world,
No one knows the love I feel for you,*
because of my own selfish and little fears.
How could I lose you to that moon up there?
You were the only person to accept me for me,
That was something that made me so happy,
because I knew that to someone else I'm special.
The way you said my name with such compassion,
your sweet way of telling me I looked like a mess,
The kisses you gave me were like my most cherished treasure,
my love for you will go on until my forever ending day.
I know it seems like I'm talking to myself,
but I know that you're truly really there,
Even if I'm staring at the moon in the sky,
at least I know you're the one I'm talking too.
Everyday at I grow, grow, grow, and grow,
you're the one who'll have my heart in hold,
I know some day I'll fall in love with someone else,
but in my heart you'll always be my first true love.
The cancer my have taken you away from me,
but I know that you're staring down with care,
The moon shows me your face every night,
and that proves that your love is true.
April 15: Coming soon lol.
We were lying together,
in a field,
in a tent,
by the side of the road.
And your arms wrapped around me,
for your heart that I hold.
And I wanted to give you,
to describe how I was feeling.
But what did I have to
describe my devotion,
My eyes climbed to the sky that was our ceiling.
And there it was, shining.
brilliant like our love,
used for ages to make lovers swoon.
And so as it was climbing,
to its peak above,
I sealed it,
with a kiss as I gave you the moon.
What a perfect present,
The star of all stars,
The way our love grew,
And now it can represent,
when the distance is so far,
every night I send my love to you.
04-16-2012, 01:39 AM
"The Letters I Sent"
There were some personal things I had to say
In the longest of the letters that I sent
They were the ones you left out in the rain
At least, you said that that’s where they went.
I script out my life, acquaint it with paper
Because some days I don’t feel like poetry
Though she should know I don’t hate her.
She’s just not made to be for every new entry.
I keep writing in hopes that you’ll send me
Something personal or comforting in return
Like a photo of Hannah when she turned three
Or a picture of just you in it that I can burn.
The court gave you full custody that day
Of a child you barely even notice anymore
But she has a father only four states away
Whom Hannah used to absolutely adore.
When will I be able to see my baby girl again?
I haven’t even seen her since last December.
My daughter treats me like a stranger or friend,
She doesn’t know me, she doesn’t remember.
Did you finally gather all the letters I sent out?
You should let them dry and then read them.
I’m sorry if you didn’t like what they were about
I hope my words aren’t much of a problem.
Read my letters to our daughter so she can know
That I haven’t forgotten about her at all.
Maybe I could come up there before the snow
Or even better, sometime at the end of fall.
Do me a favor and tuck Hannah in tonight for me
Tell her I think about her all the time, too.
I’m thinking we should work out things finally
Because everyday I’m starting to miss even you.
04-16-2012, 02:24 AM
I think I’m just gonna stay inside today. God. Whatever. Don’t be such a weenie. Have fun with your World of Warcraft buddies.
They protest, but eventually, the group disperses from my front porch. I can tell they are unhappy- they mumble and groan and, finally, tell me they’ll be at the beach if I “need them”. I cannot possibly imagine this happening, because I am so looking forward to this day. I need this. An absolute day of nothing, of answering to no one and being responsible for nothing… it is something I have been desperately craving for weeks now, something my tightly-coiled shoulder muscles have been absolutely screaming for. To my abject mortification, my friends show up around nine AM. I am still in my pajamas- and not the cute kind of lounging pajamas. The kind that lean towards spinsters and women staying in hospitals.
Once the door is shut behind them- this time, I close the shades on the window next to it, just so no one can see me walking around behind the door again and demand that I answer, because I learn from my mistakes- I settle onto my couch. Excitedly, I begin to flip through my DVR list. This is going to be so sweet…
Ah, well, that was kind of a bust. At what point did I decide it was a good idea to delete all of my Community episodes for that marathon of Steven Segal movies? I halfheartedly started one and got a whole twenty seconds in before I remembered that Steven Segal movies are all kind of crappy, and ten minutes after that I was switching it off. Whatever. I still have the internet. I plop down and pull up all the websites I have been neglecting, checking to see if any of my international- and totally secret- friends are online to chat.
Every. Single. List. I don’t even know how that is possible- out of five different lists, of twenty-seven different people spanning four continents, not a single person was online. Every single website had that horrible number zero, and one even had a cheeky little :( included. No matter. YouTube, thy name is savior.
Except, really… how many times can you watch a cat play the piano? Slightly disheartened, I head to my bookshelf. Who doesn’t want to spend a day with a good candle and a better book? For lack of better reading material- I really should spend the night before a do-nothing day at Barnes and Noble- I pick out a well-worn copy of Harry Potter. It has been read perhaps a dozen times, pages dog eared and spine cracked. The pages smell of suntan oil. It is as I settle in I remember in the most visceral way that this is my ‘beach’ copy- because, yes, I have multiple copies- and before I realize what I am doing, I am out the door, book and towel tossed in a large straw bag. My bathing suit had been slung over the shower curtain, still damp and cold from when I had worn it yesterday and discarded of it wet. I don’t bother to squirt myself with suntan lotion- I have long since acquired a base tan that protects my skin from much serious burn- and instead double-check the security of my surf board harness, which stays permanently on my car. Two seconds to actually install the board, and I am off, windows down and music blasting. I am going to meet my friends… because, really? Who would rather spend a day inside, when you can go out?
04-16-2012, 02:24 AM
Obviously my computer thought today's entry was so good it should be posted twice. I disagree, so please enjoy all of my favorite smiles instead:
04-16-2012, 03:00 AM
The moon shone faintly through the thick, brown film that stretched across the sky and lit up the bodies on the outskirts of town and in the dark corners of alleyways and streets so that people could avoid them as they made their way through the town to tonight’s genetic opera. Graverobber stood on the roof of a building overlooking Sanitarium Square and watched as the eager audience milled about, showing off their secret scars and fabricated aesthetic perfections. Apparently something had happened to make the performance end early, and Graverobber had heard that it was the “accidental” death of Geneco’s very own symbol, Blind Mag. He saw that coming, but that wasn’t enough to stop the performance and get the crowd all in a bunch. As a flood of more people left the opera hall and herded into Sanitarium Square, Graverobber figured he’d be hearing the full story sooner or later and climbed downstairs to join a few of the “Midnight Girls”. About four of them huddled around a fire lit from the barrel of an old metal garbage can. Graverobber nodded in their direction and smiled. “Ladies? Any news on what’s brewing over at the opera house?” One of the girls scoffed. “Sure. But I’m not giving you the information for free.” He laughed and turned as if to leave, “I’ll just find the information elsewhere, then. I’m not giving away Zydrate for information that isn’t too difficult to find.” The girl held out her arms, saying, “Wait, Rob...fine. I heard the Repo Man, Mag, and Rotti all died on the stage tonight. And the Repo Man’s daughter left and is nowhere to be found. Apparently she was quoted as saying that she wanted nothing to do with what he father did or with Geneco and hasn’t been seen. Rotti was supposed to leave the company to her.” Graverobber raised a brow. “Hmm. Interesting.” He tossed the woman a small vial of the addictive blue glowing liquid known as Zydrate and disappeared, sneaking off to find Shiloh. “The kid’s asked me about my line of work before...and hell, she’s good at it, even if she only collected Zydrate from an insect for me once. She’s clean enough to keep her head on and not become a junkie, but precise enough to aid me in collecting the drug,” he thought as he paced down the streets with a smile on his face and his hands in his trench coat pockets. Drama like this had always excited him. He wondered who would end up with GeneCo. Briefly, he had found himself hoping Amber would seize the moment and take her chance with the company. She’d let him deal without any consequence as long as he kept himself out of the newspapers and away from trouble, which Graverobber thought was nice. But it would kind of take the fun out of being hunted for illegal dealings of Zydrate. The thrill of the chase would be gone. As he turned a corner, he spotted Shiloh, trudging down an alleyway covered in blood and her fists clenched as she tried to walk proudly away from all that she knew. “Kid?” She turned and sighed when she saw Graverobber, shaking her head. “It’s done. I’m free. Everything is finally over, Graverobber.” He nodded, sliding off his trench coat and draping it around the girl’s slender shoulders. “I know, kid. You can come with me if you want.” She nodded. “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but...um...is it alright if I just follow you around for awhile until I decide?” Graverobber smiled. “You know, I’ve got a position just for you, if you interested. I’m always looking for a hand around town. How does apprentice graverobber sound to you?” Shiloh laughed and wiped a tear from her eye. “I’ll think about it. But how much worse could it be in a world like this? My dad was right about one thing; this world is not all it cracked up to be.” Graverobber only nodded and tucked her under his arm, walking her back to his place. The moon saw all that night through a lens that was muddled and twisted, much like how the people in the world saw the world every day and as Graverobber and his new potential apprentice made tracks in the bloody, muddy sidewalks of the streets toward home, the moon was wondering what it could do about its wrinkles, just like everyone else.
04-16-2012, 03:12 AM
SWEET BABY JESUS I HAVE LESS THAN AN HOUR FOR TWO TOPICS. FUUUUUUUUUU-
The Letters I Sent You
What happened to the letters I sent you?
Did you throw them away?
I know you told me to me to never bring up,
What really happened that day.
I couldn’t resist writing everything out
Confessions of Paper and Pen
For you see, I still have the guilt today
That I felt back then
I sent a letter to everyone
Sara, Mike, Laura and Jake, too
I knew what everyone did with their letters
Everyone, except for you.
Sara tried to forget it
She wanted to do with it all,
She couldn’t deal with reality
She turned to alcohol.
Mike kept the letter in a drawer
He even sent me a reply
It wasn’t a very nice one though,
He basically told me to go die.
Laura burned her letter
The evidence turned into ash.
She wanted to know what it’d take to keep me quiet
She told me she had plenty of cash.
I feel terrible for giving a letter to Jake
The guilt, he felt he could not hide,
So after reading the detailed letter,
He turned to suicide.
Though none of the results were happy
I knew what they did with their letters
I don’t know what you did with yours,
But goodness, I sure hope it was better.
04-16-2012, 03:26 AM
The Moon. Done in less than 15 min, but 328 words and done.
Roan held Emerson’s hand as they went up a steep hill. She smiled and leaned on his shoulder. Once they reached the top, he made a gesture towards the grass.
“Here?” he asked.
She nodded and he set down a blanket. He laid down and patted the area beside him. Happily, she joined him, snuggling into his side.
Emerson lay on his back, looking at the sky. “It sure is beautiful,” he said, “Look at all those stars. Which one is your favorite Roan?”
Roan put a finger on her chin and thought. Finally she pointed at the moon.
“Which star are you pointing at? I only see the moon there,” Emerson said, a bit confused. Sometimes, having a mute girlfriend made communication hard. When he turned his head, Roan smiled at him and kissed him on the nose.
“But the moon isn’t a star; It’s a planet,” Emerson said.
Roan shook her head stubbornly.
“Stars are hot balls of gas,” Emerson continued.
Another stubborn head shake from Roan.
“Listen, Roan. I love you, I really do. But the moon is not a star,” Emerson said, a little desperately.
Roan shook her head furiously. He didn’t understand.
Emerson propped himself up on his elbows, “Stars are- hot. Very hot. So hot that it would be impossible for any human to touch one, much less land on one. And we’ve landed on the Moon. Not to mention that stars are just hot gas. Therefore, the moon cannot be star and cannot be your favorite star,” he finished triumphantly.
Roan closed her eyes and face palmed. Emerson wondered if that meant she gave up or she was done with the argument. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She sometimes used it for communication.
“Silly boy. I wasn’t shaking my head because I thought the Moon was a star. I was shaking my head because I was saying I didn’t mean the moon. I meant another star.”
04-16-2012, 05:35 AM
Letters I sent you
I sent you the letter A for All those things we used to love to do.
I sent you B for Being there for me when I needed you the most.
I sent you C for Calling me in those moments when you felt alone.
I sent you D for Doing the right thing.
I sent you E for Everything that we ever said.
I sent you F for Falling for me.
I sent you G for Getting me out of that place.
I sent you H for holding me and never letting me go.
I sent you I for Imagining a better life for us.
I sent you J for Joking about the past and making it seem so small.
I sent you K for Killing my demons.
I sent you L for Loving me unconditionally even though I never knew how.
I sent you M for Moving mountains with your heart.
I sent you N for Never saying I can’t.
I sent you O for Only ever taking my side when you know I was right, because no one else would.
I sent you P for Putting me in a place I felt comfortable.
I sent you Q for Quite resolutions that you invented.
I sent you R for Remaining.
I sent you S for Saving me.
I sent you T for Trying to be the best you can.
I sent you U for Understanding.
I sent you V,W,X,Y,Z Because I panicked and had nothing else to give you to make you love me.
I sent you love realising that’s all you ever wanted too.
04-16-2012, 05:47 AM
Bob: I have never been so offended in my life, I mean can you believe that? He just mooned me, he just sent me ‘the moon’!
Janice: Oh don’t over react, he’s just a kid Bob!
Bob: Don’t overreact? Woman don’t test me.
Janice: Bob, being fifty doesn’t give you the right to be a dick.
Bob: No but being fifty earns me the right to some respect.
Janice: Respect is given it isn’t earned.
Bob: You don’t think I deserve the respect of the youth! Look what we’ve done for them?
Janice: What have we done for them?
Janice: Apart from mess up their planet.
Bob: Yeah but...
Janice: Mess up the economy.
Bob: Maybe however...
Janice: Promote sexual activity as okay but not educating them.
Bob: But what about...
Janice: No, we haven’t fought a war, we haven’t cured cancer no prevented poverty. Our generation hasn’t done much at all.
Bob: I suppose you’re right.
Janice: We were too spoilt by our parents, the ones who had nothing just wanted to give us everything, and now we’ve done a half arsed job with our kids because we can’t see any immediate reward for doing so.
Bob: Christ what has gotten into you today.
Janice: Another argument with Jake.
Bob: Oh dear, he always seems to be up to something.
Janice: He’s always trying to do the right thing, but sometimes he just needs to take a break.
Bob: Where is he now? Another peace protest? Or trying to save African orphans.
Janice: He’s in Jail for public indecensy.
Bob: Oh my! What did he do?
Janice: He mooned the Prime Minister.
I woke up this morning, ready to take the day head on - today I would get a job! A friend had spoken to the manager of one of the bar/restaurants in town, and told me Ishould takein my resume, I would get an interview for sure! The sun was shining, birds were singing in the trees. All good omens.
I dressed in my best, ready to make a great impression. I couldn't keep the smile off my face.
Then I went to the kitchen, and realised there was no milk for my morning coffee.
Then I realised I'd run out of cigarettes the night before, so didn't have my morning nicotine hit either.
Rode my bike to the shop, pulled up with a stylish skid...
Got my trouser leg caught around the pedal of my bike and dismounted by falling onto the concrete.
Tried to ignore the servo guy laughing at me, handed over the money for the cigarettes and he just looked at me with a 'try'n ta pull the wool over MY eyes!' expression, and realised I havent given himenough money.
Gave correct amount.
Went home, made coffee, smoked a cigarette. Feeling slightly better from the mornings' annoyances.
Made some toast for breakfast.
Realised there was no butter.
Threw the toast out the window in disgust.
(I'm sure the ducks love me for it.)
The sun dissapeared in an instant, to be replaced with torrential, horizontal rain.
Where the hell did that come from?
Went to my bedroom to get my umbrella.
Managed to spill a cup full of old water all over my nice, presentable outfit.
Ranted for twenty minutes, tearing apart my room to find something else to wear.
Finally decided on something.
Walked into town.
Wind blew my umbrella inside out.
Went into restaurant (after a quick cigarette break, to give myself time to dry)
Spoke to manager.
Drunk man trashes the place (accidentally, apparently.)
Now extremely flustered manager is too busy making out of order signs and cleaning to speak to me.
Promises she'll look at my resume.
Shoves it in her back pocket.
Walk home, daydreaming about a nice cold beer.
I should have just stayed inside today.
04-16-2012, 07:32 AM
Teekay watched as Phovos paced up and down the room. She'd start off by her bed in the corner, sniffing around each pillow, as if it was some sort of spice.
Then she'd bounce up and leap towards her old, battered computer. It never worked. Teekay had tried to fix it for his own personal use, but since Phovos once fell asleep inside it while he went to make a cup of tea, he decided to abandon the project. She was too large to sleep in it now, but she still nuzzled it, reminding herself of the days when she was small enough to sleep in whatever small hole she'd fine.
After that, she'd rush to her feet and head for the kitchen. Teekay knew he couldn't stop her if she wanted to rummage through the cupboards, but Phovos was a good girl. She didn't eat all the time. And the way she was pawing at the packets of flour suggested that she wanted to make cookies.
And then suddenly she was off again. Staring out of the window. Gazing at the sky outside. She'd always spend the longest amount of time here. Just looking. Not at anything at particular though.
Teekay knew she couldn't decide. In or out? Out or in? She didn't know. Silly little indecisive creature. She'd done this about five times. And each time, she had spent longer by the window.
With a grin, Teekay opened the door, letting Phovos wander outside.
It was a wonderful day, after all...
04-16-2012, 04:09 PM
Check out day 16! I can't wait to see what you all come up with for this one!
Everything is updated!
04-16-2012, 10:06 PM
Go outside or stay inside?
Ed: It's cold outside.
Neil: Explains why I'm wearing this jacket how fucking observant of you.
Ed: We're supposed to Ben's party.
Neil: Isn't it outdoors?
Ed: Yeah it is.
Neil: Fuck it I don’t want to go.
Ed: I think we have to.
Neil: But we've both agreed that it's outside.
Ed: Yes but our girl friends will be there?
Neil: Did I slip into another reality where the world girlfriend turned into outside heating then I don’t see you're argument at all.
Ed: Well you're girlfriend could keep you warm.
Neil: that's officially the dumbest thing you've said all night. How? How is she supposed to do that? Get naked and rub herself all over me? Has Ben's standard of party changed since the last one I want to. I always thought we just sat and smoked weed outside.
Ed: Oh come on. There's bound to be something there that'll help.
Neil : I don’t know my girlfriend is seriously pissing me off. She loves this kind of weather. She'll want to go outside and I'll want to strangle myself.
Ed: I actually understand that shit. Mine is exactly the same. Though it's not the same for me it's more to do with blankets. When she sleeps in a bed is a whole other level of an extreme. It'll be cold as fuck and she'll have a sheet, not a blanket but a sheet. I'm there shivering like I'm in the arctic, or on Everest, fighting for the blanket.
Neil: But funny enough when you touch their skin, you feel like you're fondling soft gushy limps of fiery coal.
Ed: Hahaahaa I totally understand that! Don’t even get me started on getting into a shower with a girl.
Neil: You jump in, then you jump the fuck out!
04-17-2012, 01:43 AM
"Go Outside or Stay Inside?"
Shiloh stood in front of a half-broken window in Graverobber’s hide out the day after the Genetic Opera. He had chosen to reside in a run-down, abandoned building on the other side of town, far from the cemetery, where the authorities wouldn’t really think to look for him. So far, he hadn’t been discovered there, or at least that’s what he’d told Shiloh. As she stood by the window, Shiloh wondered how much of what Graverobber said was true and if she could even trust him. He’d given her no reason not to so far, and the cure for her illness was Zydrate, apparently. The only way she was willing to get her hands on something like that would be through Graverobber, not surgery. Shiloh was not open to the idea of altering her appearance or genes anymore. Seeing what it had done to people and what kind of monsters it turned them into on the inside was enough to deter her from ever going through with any kind of cosmetic procedure. Behind her, she could hear Graverobber counting the vials of zydrate from his bag. He whistled a happy tune every now and then, seemingly unaffected by the everything. It wasn’t that he was cold or unsympathetic, it’s just that the world and what went on in it didn’t really affect him too deeply, it seemed. She turned and watched him for awhile, watching his hands at work as he smiled. He noticed Shiloh looking his direction and tilted his head saying as he smiled an encouraging smile, “Hey, kid, what’s wrong, huh? I said you could go outside today if you wanted, just as long as you kept out of the spotlight.” Shiloh sighed and looked back at the window for a moment, then switched her gaze back to him. “I’m thinking. I don’t know if I want to go out today.” He nodded understandingly. “Alright. Whatever you want. It’s just that there’s not much to do around here and I don’t really have anything to entertain you with. If you’re fine over there...” he trailed off and went back to work. Shiloh guessed that he wasn’t too good at consoling people in grieving. Turning to face the window, the girl crossed her arms loosely across her chest and wondered, “Should I go outside, or stay inside today?”
04-17-2012, 02:03 AM
Um, sorry, but I don't quite understand Day 16's topic. Can someone VM or PM an explanation? c:
04-17-2012, 02:07 AM
Yeah, I'm not sure how to go about day 16, either. D:
04-17-2012, 02:22 AM
To go outside or to stay inside? That was the question facing Jenna. Being bored as could be, she wondered whether the better option would be to linger in the apartment or go inside. She decided she wanted to test the weather. She swept her blonde hair into a messy ponytail and headed downstairs. She nodded at the concierge and headed outside. “
What a pretty day,” she said to herself. She spotted her friend Elle coming towards her, looking sweaty.
“Hey Elle,” Jenna said, smiling at her friend, “Pretty weather, huh?”
Elle scowled, despite seeing one of her close friends. “Nice? Please. It’s humid out here. If I were you, I’d spend the day indoors,” she advised. She then continued on her way, not even saying bye.
“Well then,” Jenna said to herself, “I suppose I’m going back in.” She turned around and headed to the lobby, where she say Max, whom she babysitted quite often. He looks a little sad.
“Hey Max,” Jenna said brightly, “Why so glum?”
“I wanna go outside. But Mommy won’t let me,” he pouted, “I wish I could go outside!”
Jenna ruffled his hair. “Maybe next time,” she said sympathetically. She looked outside. It was pretty nice. She decided to go back out. She enjoyed the weather for a few minutes before being approached by her friend, Steven.
“Yo Jenna, what’s cracking?” he said, grinning at her.
“Enjoying the weather,” she replied.
His eyes widened. “Why sit out here when you could be inside, listening to some phat beats?”
Jenna sighed. “I do like music. And I suppose just sitting here, would get boring. See you later, Steve.” With than, Jenna headed back inside. This time she was stopped by Elle’s girlfriend, Ette.
“Hey Jenster,” Ette said, “What are you doing inside on a pretty day like this?”
“I don’t know!” Jenna said frustrated, “I suppose I shall go back outside.” And outside she went. To see Tom. Who told her to go inside and bake a recipe. But Linda stopped her to tell her going
outside would get her the perfect tan. But Joe had something to say about skin cancer. Indoors, Jenna was fuming.
“Hey Jenna,” Hanna said, noticing her foul mood, “How are you enjoying this lovely day?”
“I suppose you want me to go outside?” Jenna said through gritted teeth.
“No,” Hanna said, confused, “I just wanted your opinion. Should I go outside or inside?”
04-17-2012, 02:52 AM
A Mr. E Solved Adventure
Ed: Who the hell is Mr E sovled.
Neil: I don’t know. It sounds racist.
Ed: You always say that.
Neil: That's because everything is racist.
Ed: I think he's that guy from RPA.
Neil: What the hell is RPA Rapists perverts and Anal specialists?
Ed: What? You're a dumb ass.
Neil: I'm just kidding and you're being a moron too, we're both just fooling around, what about him?
Ed: Apparently he had an adventure.
Neil: Well life is an adventure.
Ed: I'm pretty sure when the rumour formed it wasn't just about him being alive right. There are six billion alive people out there, there's a reason a rumour formed around Mr E solved was before a little more than him simply being alive. Do you want to hear the rumour or not.
Neil: Well I haven’t been able to Tevo the latest episodes of gossip girl so this will be a welcome update.
Ed: screw you man.
Neil: I apologues, I meant Gossip beeeatch. I'm teasing I swear, just tell me.
Ed: Well Mister E solved was at a bar, sipping pinacoladas and thinking about dancing in the rain because I guess that's just how he rolls. Like a man in a wheelchair.
Neil: Or a fat person rolling down a steep hill.
*They both nod their heads like they really said something truly profound. They stand staring at each other in silence. Neil puts a hand on Ed's shoulder and they both nod at the same time, once again as though something truly profound was said*
Ed: Any way he's at the downtown pub and grill and he's having his cocktail when this weird gangly, bald black without a shirt walks up to the DJ stand and starts fiddling with the equipment behind the temp stage thingy they use on weekends.
Neil: Why he have to be black?
Ed: What do you mean?
Neil: I mean bald, if he'd been a white guy would have been of note. Everyone can think of at least one bald black guy. It's a regular item. How many bald white guys, without swastika's stamped to their bodies do you know. So why make not of his skin colour.
Ed: You ever going to let me finish this?
Neil: Apologies. Bald, gangly, shirtless, black guy.
Ed: Yeah well, he ends up turning on the equipment and starts jamming. You wouldn't believe who it is.
Neil: I have faith in it being someone awesome.
Neil: I get it I-
Ed: Faithless! The DJ.
Neil: That's some bullshit.
Neil: Because I was at the pub and grill.
Ed: What time you leave?
Neil: About tennish.
Ed: Aaah, man that means you missed it man.
Neil: People always fucking say that. "Ten minutes after you leave" or "Oh you missed it man" It's like the party is waiting for me to leave all the time. And Mister E Solved go into that action?
Ed: Apparently he was diseased!
Ed: You know the slang.
Neil: No, I bloody don't!
Ed: You know the saying.
Neil: I know ill as a saying. It's a miracle you are single, you know that? How you been going around calling yourself diseased?
Ed: Piss off man. Anyway Mr solved apparently had one lady cocktail too many. There was a midget, a tennis coach and an Olympic swimmer.
Neil: You know what? I don’t want to hear it. I mean it. Not a word.
04-17-2012, 04:49 AM
Mr. E came up to me
With wistful words to say
"I had a jar of cookies
But it was stolen, earlier today."
"They've got to be around here
A criminal I feared
With melted chocolate finger tips
And crumbs upon their beard"
I laughed till I could laugh no more
And then I laughed again
"Oh darling, E: I warned you
To keep out the stock of gen"
Her face was sad and solemn
'Till the giggles went away
But once I saw her, I knew
This was more than just a neigh
"Help and I'll reward thee
A cookie voucher, one per day
I'll go to all extents, you see
So the thief won't get away"
Alice got me prettied up
Decked in spy gear, all couture
Bia shared lovely advice:
We would succeed, assured
I searched through all the forums
Unlacing all the threads
Counted all the members
And the life's that they all lead
I made a list of suspects
Of cookie-loving parasites
Until she threatened that she bites
Wattz finally broke down
And tipped me off a lead
Took a plane to Israel
To find a message within a tree
A one eyed man approached me
His second eye a replica
He told me of a girl, they called:
"The Arch Angel of Epica"
I set out for the culprit
Backed by fighter jets and planes
A pack of ninjas to my left,
The SWAT team at my flank
I kicked down a door and flashed a badge
And the case was then resolved
Kris's hand caught in a jar, marked:
"This 'Mr. E' is Solved"
04-17-2012, 08:24 AM
"Knock knock, anyone in?"
Teekay jumped out of his armour, spilling a glass of cola all over his newspaper. His eyes darted over to the door, while his arms signalled for Phovos to head for her hiding spot upstairs. "Er, hang on, one second!"
Phovos tiptoed up the stairs as Teekay assumed his position. This was the hardest part. Manipulating people's minds so they didn't see a small, child-sized insectoid creature, but instead saw a young woman. It was a good thing that Teekay could actually speak, so he didn't have to make them imagine that he was using his mouth to talk too.
Anyone looking at him now would no longer see his red skin, silver armour and large, bulbous eyes. They would see a rosy-cheeked human being with brown hair and blue eyes. And breasts. Teekay didn't want to lie, he liked female humans.
"Er, um, sorry, I kinda fell asleep reading my newspaper... You made me jump..." Teekay opened the door cautiously. "Er, who are you?"
The person flicked out a card from their pocket. He was wearing a large amount of leather. Leather jacket, leather trousers, leather belt, leather bag, leather, crooked cowboy hat. He was also wearing a red, short-sleeved shirt, those so-called aviator glasses and one glove. And a watch. But no one cared about the watch.
"G'day, mate. I'm Mr. E Solved, and I'm looking into the murder of a young woman around here. I was wondering if you knew anything about it?" The man grinned.
Teekay stared at the card. It read "Mr E Solved. 'E Solved Pretty Much Everything. You Can Count On E Solved."
"Ya listening?" The man tutted.
"Oh, er, sorry, I... Yeah, I heard about that... I don't know anything about it though..." Teekay replied.
"Alright, mate. May I come in?"
Teekay panicked slightly. A quick telepathic sweep told him that Phovos was safely hidden away, but he'd left his bedroom door open, which was full of old Bohrok technology. As long as this man stayed downstairs, he'd be okay.
"Erm, sure, yeah, but it's a bit messy here..." Teekay opened the door completely, and the man waltzed into the living room.
"Nice place ya have 'ere, miss..."
"Teejay... TJ..." Teekay blurted out.
"Short for something?"
Mr E Solved grinned. "Nice. Ya single?"
Teekay's heart was pounding now. He was clearly hesitating. It was hard keeping up this illusion. "Erm, er, no, er, yeah, but... But it's complicated... Wait, aren't you supposed to be..."
"Ah yes... This young lady, she was last seen last week. Found 'er with a knife in 'er back. Poor lass. Was wearing a red and black dress. Nothin' fancy though. Had a kid, about 17. Know of 'er? All we know as of yet is that the suspect's a man. Fairly tall, broad shoulders. Some heard 'er scream and caught someone running away..."
Teekay scratched his head, although from E Solved's point of view, it looked like the woman was rubbing her tummy. "I don't know her."
"Ah, looks like ya're havin' a bit of, ya know, female problems..." The bloke got up to leave. "But if ya see or hear anything... Feel free t'call me."
As the door slowly closed behind the detective, Teekay blinked and collapsed on the floor, wondering if all that just happened and what 'female problems' were..
authors note: The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real person(s) is completely coincidental.
Mr Solved was in a rut,
this sickening feeling in his gut,
He felt he'd never done enough,
of doing things, and learning stuff.
He'd never decided on a trade,
Never known where his dreams would be made,
It wasn't as though he'd never tried!
But that inner voice never replied,
when E would ask 'what shall I be?
What is the path of Mr E?'
Until one day, he realised
What a catch phrase his name devised,
And now the only task was plain,
In what situation could he say it?
Of course. Detection! It is clear,
for haven't I just done it here?
And luckily, he lived in a city,
that happened to be rife with mystery,
So he got himself a sign, and a beige hat,
And behind a desk in his small house he sat,
A blonde woman entered before too long,
"I'm in terrible trouble, everythings gone!'
Her hat, and her coat, and her tiny dog too,
And who was the thief - Oh, If only she knew,
That's why she needed E, for she felt it would be
most pertinent if he would solve this mystery.
So he went to the spot and he sat,
And he tugged at his beige coloured hat,
Looked about himself,
Cleared his throat, and spat,
And as he turned his head,
On the road lay a red
rather fabulous shoe,
And it so happened he knew,
Exactly to whom belonged,
And therefore who had done the wrong.
And in the blink of an eye,
He had them arrested, in the sty,
All the womans possessions returned,
And the criminal (I hope) - lesson learned
So, listeners, know, and never fear,
There is no room for baddies here!
And when there's a mystery is solved,
You'll be sure Mr E. Solved is involved.
04-17-2012, 06:31 PM
Check out day 17! I'm very interested to see where this one leads. :D
I'll update who's done what in a bit!
04-17-2012, 09:39 PM
April 16: A Mr. E Solved Adventure.
Mr. E Solved: Hi?
Smiley: *Grins* So... What's up?
Mr. E Solved: *Raises brow* Not much, you?
Smiley: Being bored, what brings you to New York?
Mr. E Solved: Vacation... *Shifts uncomfortably*
Smiley: *Smirks* Do I make you uncomfortable?
Mr. E Solved: Honestly? Yes.
Smiley: You're honest, I like that. Now come with me! Time for you to get a view of where I spend my life! *Grabs Mr. E Solved's hand, and drags her toward the subway.*
Mr. E Solved: Uhm, are you seriously Kidnapping me right now?
Smiley: Yup! *Skips to the train doors*
Mr. E Solved: OK. You're crazy, I'm gonna go now.
Smiley: *Frowns* Please, were both girls here! Just one conversation.
Mr. E Solved: I don't even know your nam-
Smiley: Cassandra, but call me Smiley.
Mr. E Solved: OK, cool. Call me Solved.
Smiley: *Follows Solved into the train.* Interesting name, how old are you?
Mr. E Solved: Thank you, and that isn't your business, you?
Smiley: *Sighs* Eighteen. You're not going to answer any questions I ask are you?
Mr. E Solved: Nope.
Smiley: Alright, I will. * * My favorite color is black, favorite show is Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Favorite food is taco salad, and my favorite dessert is Vanilla ice cream. I prefer wolfs over vampires, and I don't like buff guys. My mom die-
Mr. E Solved: Smiley, stop. You don't tell people this stuff among the first ten minutes. Why'd you come you came up to me anyways?
Smiley: Honestly? I don't have any friends, and I just wanted to make one. *Crosses arms and pouts*
Mr. E Solved: *Laughs* You're um, how do I put this as nice as possible?
Smiley: Weird? Blunt? Friendly? Crazy? Awesomely forward? The definition of insane?
Mr. E Solved: *Nods thoughtfully* All of the above. Next time you want a friend, don't kidnap them, and talk their ears off. It's find of annoying.
Smiley: *Sighs and smiles brightly* So if I don't talk, you'll be my friend?
Mr. E Solved: *Laughs* Sure.
Mr. E Solved: *Tilts head* Hello?
Mr. E Solved: *Sighs* Alright, alright! You can talk!
Smiley: *Bursts into laughter* Yay! I like you Solved, you're the first to call me a friend. That's what I needed.
Mr. E Solved: No problem. *Smiles*
Smiley: *Train comes to a stop* Thank you, Solved. * Stands up*
Mr. E Solved: Wait. *Digs for her phone* Here's my numb- Where did she go?
Old Woman: Who dear?
Mr. E Solved: The girl that was sitting by me talking. *Glances around* Long brown hair, 5'5, had a little meat on her bones.
Old woman: No one was there sweetie.
Mr. E Solved: Impossible, I saw her! She said her name was Cassandra.
Old woman: *Nods in realization* Ah, the ghost looking for a friend. She was hit by this train only a year ago, no one knows how that happened. The poor girl had no friends, I think that's why she bugged random people after she died. None of them accepted to be her friend, but you must have. I no longer feel her presence. I believe that's all she wanted, was someone to care enough to call her friend.
The old woman smiled, nodding as she got off the train. *Mr. E Solved smiled, and stepped out as well. Once out of the train, she looked at the sky and grinned.
Mr. E Solved: It was nice meeting you Smiley, thank you for the ghostly adventure.
04-17-2012, 10:19 PM
o.o Old Gregg and Childish Gambino weren't added to Day 15. Were our entries too late?? D:
04-18-2012, 12:04 AM
"A Mr. E. Solved Adventure"
Mr. E Solved was wondering what happened to the keys to her awesome new Mustang. It was red and shiny and everyone envied her for having it. A month after she bought it, her keys went missing! She looked everywhere and couldn’t find them. But what she doesn’t know is that Kris took them. He dropped them off a bridge, where Cthulu caught them, but then Nazgul swept by and screeched, taking off with the keys to Mordor. Well, Gabriel Zero simply walked in and took them, kicked Saruman in the nuts on the way out and escaped to the coast of Jamaica. Merry Gentry and Mary Sue were there, sunbathing and having a good ole’ time when they snuck up on Gabe and took the keys from his back pocket while he was buying some ice cream. The two attempted to go back to the states to steal the car to match the keys, but were intercepted by Mysteria, who cackled and forced the keys from the two and sped off in a moped. Wattz drove by and snatched the keys from her, with Bia, Evil Troy, and Auki in the truck as they sang “Bohemian Rhapsody” at the top of their lungs and headbanged. They stopped to pick up a hitchhiker along the way that turned out to be Luthien who wrestled and beat down everyone there for the keys, then was picked up as a hitchhiker by Keeper of the Inn and Shepherd who were disguised as truckers. But Anne Bonny was the one who ended up with the keys and the car, ultimately. I know this because...I’m the crow that stole them for her.
04-18-2012, 01:20 AM
Mr. E Solved leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the table. This week he had been on top of his game. Murder in the Hamptons? Simple, it was the maid. Did it with a classic slip of pills in the wine. Someone kidnapped that little girl Anna? Well, why did they think the nanny suddenly disappeared? Newlywed bride just happened to have her husband die while they were on their honeymoon. These mysteries were child’s play. He needed a challenge. He lit a pipe and inhaled a big lungful of smoke. He glanced at the clock. It was 1:30. All had been quiet. Too quiet. Suddenly, his younger sister Trina burst into the room.
“E!” she squealed flinging her arms around her brother, engulfing him in her cheap perfume.
Mr. E coughed and shifted in his seat. He was not a touchy feely kind of guy. “Trina,” he said, setting down his pipe, “What brings you to my office?” Trina was the kind of gal who rather be shopping than—well, anything else. Mr. E thought of his sister as a bit of an airhead.
“Right, right. Always have to go to the formalities,” she said rolling her eyes. She went over to her purse and pulled out a file with a lime green Post-It Note Stuck on it. She waved the file in the air. “I have a case for you,” she sang. Mr. E stood up and silently took the folder, leafing through it.
“I see,” he said after her had gotten the gist of what the mystery was about. “I’ll have it solved by tomorrow.”
“No!” his sister shrieked, “It has to be solved by today.”
Mr. E sighed. “But today it-Ah, not important. I will get on it.”
The case seemed fairly simple. Someone had broken into a pool room and stolen a bottle of liquor and some change. Mr. E chuckled to himself as he drove to the pool room. “Gideon’s Trumpet’s encore?” When he arrived, he parked his car and smoothed out his suit. Mr. E took pride in the way he looked. Two police officers stood at the entry way of the pool room.
“Mr. E Solved,” one of the said, extending a hand, “The name is Joe. Joe Shcmo. It’s an honor to meet you. I heard you’re the best detective around.”
Mr. E nodded. “You’ve heard correct then. This case is a fairly easy one. I suspect it was Allen Fields who has robbed this place before and other places in the area for drug money about 2 years ago. A year later he claimed he was clean, but people have spotted him smoking recently. Better collect DNA and such to make sure,” he said, all business. He stepped into the pool room. It was dark and cool and the smells of food lingered in the air. Hot wings. Extra spicy. A favorite of his. He flipped on the light switch.
“SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY E!” Mr’s E’s friends and family shouted, popping up from their hiding spots.
Mr. E smiled, “Well, I did not see that coming. Looks like I need to work on my sleuthing skills.”
[i]My minds' all aflutter today. Can't focus, can't think straight I need... I need.. I don't know! But I know my thoughts travel too slow to make way for the ones behind - god! I need more room in my mind, I've tried to meditate, to pause, but it's never worked for me before, so why ever should it now? I can't focuse, I don't know how to take a breath, calm myself down - too strong, the urge to run round town to all the bars, the dancehalls, clubs, it's just so boring at the pub! I need excitement, I can't stay just standing around in one place, no time to chat, I have to play! Get out of my goddamn way! I need to keep up my heartrate, I'm late! I'm late! No time to wait! I have to be in a thousand places, No time for familiar faces I know them all! I've had that thrill before now I need something more, What's the point in doing something you've done before? I want to swing dive from a bridge, or mountain climb up that there ridge, or jump from on high from a speeding jet, just any excitement I can get! I want to try that poison fish - eat it wrong and die, oh, what a dish! I want to be a Tokeshi's castle contestant, Wish that was how all game shows' went, I want to discover the depths of the sea, a thousand miles from oxygen in a submarine, I want to do everything that noone's ever done, and if there's no risk, where's the fun? There's so many things I wanna do, wanna let my mind run astray.... How am I supposed to fit all this is just one day?
04-18-2012, 09:50 AM
A large blur of orange and green zipped through the tunnels of the Sypria Bohrok nest, making eyes roll as usual.
"What on earth is that?" Kohrak tutted from one of his many surveillance rooms, before returning to a cup of steaming coffee he had gotten Tahnok to get for him earlier.
"Dunno..." Tahnok replied, reminding Kohrak that Tahnok was standing behind him. "Looks like Lehvak to me."
Kohrak tutted again. "Huh. Guess you're right. You sure you don't want some of this coffee?"
Tahnok shook his head. "I'd rather not. I don't want an adrenaline rush like Lehvak currently has."
"Adrenaline?" Kohrak asked. "What does that do again?"
"I think it's that rush of feelings you get when you do stupid things. Like what Lehvak's doing now."
Kohrak sat up and tapped the screen. "That reminds me. Looks like he's riding that souped up motorcycle I found in that ditch several months ago. Told him that was unstable."
Tahnok blinked. "You didn't mention that to me."
"Only mentioned it to Lehvak. When he's not busy being General of the Bohrok-Ksa Guard, he likes his stupid ideas and stuff."
"He also likes cake too." Tahnok smiled.
"Yeah, you can say that again... And from the looks of it, I think he's heading to the kitchens anyway." Kohrak took a sip of his coffee, and realised it was way too hot to drink. He wondered how humans coped with this stuff.
"They wait for it to cool down." Tahnok answered.
"Did I say that aloud?"
"We're telepaths, dummkopf."
"I didn't know you spoke German."
"I don't. I was playing that game you love so much."
The pair of them fell silent and watched the screens. Lehvak was now zooming at about 70km/h, narrowly avoiding passing Bohrok.
"I wonder..." Tahnok sighed. "If I did this stupid adrenaline junky stuff, would my skin turn white?"
"Huh?" Kohrak was confused. "As in that human phrase, as scared as a sheet, or as in, actually white? I mean, I know your skin colour's supposed to be white anyway, as you're an electricity Bohrok, but..."
"I don't know..." Tahnok admitted. "But if I was white instead of red, the Bahrag would give me far less grief..."
Kohrak sighed. "Don't be stupid..." He then turned his attention to the screens again. Lehvak had crashed into a wall and was stumbling away, slightly dazed. "Huh. And chances are, he'll probably do something equally dumb tomorrow..."
"Anything to get his adrenaline rush..." Tahnok tutted.
04-18-2012, 03:48 PM
“A Day In The Life of an Adrenaline Junkie; The Last Day”
I have to jump. I have to. If I don’t, I’ll never get what I came here for. And I’ll leave feeling the same urge to come back as last time. My mind was warring with itself as I stood upon one of the highest buildings in town. Every fiber of my being was begging me to feed into its craving for the ultimate thrill and because I wouldn’t comply, everything rebelled against me as I turned away, promising to visit an amusement park soon to sequester the urge to do the most dangerous thing I’d ever considered.
The roller coasters were an old feeling. I got off the biggest, fastest one in the park feeling as if the excitement was lost for me. I must have ridden that thing a million times within the past couple of years. Lately, my body was craving something even more thrilling than the old roller coaster. Thankfully, there was a new ride at the park; a sort of lift-and-drop deal. I tried it out, and felt a small stirring inside. But it wasn’t anything extreme so as to quell my addiction.
So at the end of the day, I found myself standing at the top of the building again, feet itching to move forward, almost of their own volition. Jump. JUMP. JUMP NOW. I looked down at all the cars passing by beneath me. And I couldn’t concentrate or save myself. Before I could give it a second thought, I plunged off of the building and spread my arms, flying down what seemed to me to be at least a hundred stories high, but I knew it wasn’t. Time was nothing. And shortly, everything went black.
04-18-2012, 05:21 PM
In response to Gregg's question, no, you were not too late. But I had noted in my last post that I hadn't updated the participants list! So don't fret.
Now everything is up to date.
And day 18 is added! These topics are getting interesting, hm? Can you guess which of our admins/mods suggested this one? XD
04-18-2012, 05:30 PM
Thank you...sorry I flipped. XD
<3 Old Gregg loves you, Miss Bonny. This is the best part of RPApril, in my opinion.
04-18-2012, 05:37 PM
Shhhh! Don't play favorites!
*whispers* But I love you too!
I'm glad you're enjoying it though! This was totally a group effort between lots of mods and me! It's really great to see so many people participating and sticking with it!
04-18-2012, 07:00 PM
April 17: A day in the life of an adrenaline junkie.
I'm going to do this, even if it kills me. I need my fix. I'll die without that certain feeling. The feeling of my heart pumping; threatening to beat out of my chest.
The way the adrenaline flows through my body; makes me feel like I'm flying. Knowing the danger of what I'm about to do makes me smile. The cries from my friends saying don't, only makes me want to do it more.
In the middle of the road I stand, watching as my best friend gets into his car. A grins makes it's way onto my lips, I'm getting more excited each passing minute.
I jump onto my motorcycle, and eye my medal prey. Knowing I could die makes my heart beat faster, and I love it. My friends on the sidelines looking away in fear; only makes my grin widen.
"Ready!?" I yell, and gain a nod from my best friend, Todd.
"Set?!" Todd yells, and I notice his smirk as I nod.
"Go!" we scream, and take off toward each other.
The wind in my hair, the fear in my veins, and my fast beating heart makes me scream out in excitement. Some say I'm crazy, and some just know I'm insane.*
My eyes lock onto Todd's, and it tells me he is thinking the same exact thing as I. He loves the adrenaline as well. I can feel my heart pumping, and my brain convulsing, and it feels so damn good!
The danger; the thrill.
The thought of dying sends chills through my body. I show no signs of pulling back, nor avoiding Todd's car. I can see Todd gulp, and that's when I know I've won.
Todd swerves his car and comes to a stop, while I zoom past him with a cry of victory. Everyday it's the same I play with death, and survive just to feel my adrenaline pumping.
04-18-2012, 10:25 PM
Ed: Duuuuude you coming? Me and Sam are both on our way.
Neil: Going where again?
Ed: We're going bungee jumping! It's going to be great.
Neil: Are you out of your mind?
Ed: Oh geez what is it now?
Neil: What the hell am I going to be doing that for? What about me makes you look I'm insane like that.
Ed: It's an adrenaline rush like you could never imagine.
Neil: I grew up in the townships you moron, where the crime rate is so fucking high it matches that of a civil war, stepping outside is an adrenaline rush. What self respecting black man is going to strap an elastic to their ankles then throw himself off a high point?
Ed: I can't believe you're going to make this one racial too.
Neil: Isn't it man? The only way you'd see my face on one of those bungee jumping posters world be if I'd been gagged and my arms had been tied up. Don't even get me started on those other ridiculous other adrenaline fucking sports. What the hell is sky diving? First of all you get on a ragity assed plane, and you know I'm right. It's never one of the great airplanes. It's always those ones that look like they creak even when no one is one them. The ones that look like the only way you'd be allowed on the plane is if you have a parachute and you're a fucking stuntman! You get on that death trap then leave the ground. WITH NO PURPOSE OF GOING ANYWHERE, you're just on there to be one there. Then you get to the right height, which is a lie because the right height is the ground! Then they strap someone white guy to you who has that look that says. Lets hurry this up I've got my KKK rally to go to right after this.
Ed: You're being ridiculous!
Neil: I'm not finished. Now the son of the man who shot Martin Luther King straps himself to me while wondering whether I'm going to bounce or not when I hit the ground. He jumps and takes me with me him and w go flying out the plane. Flying my ass! Falling. I scream piss myself yell, look at my life flash before my eyes, fall asleep from the boredom wake up from the sound of my own screaming. Then we land we're alive. I want to die, filled with loathing but glad to be alive. And of course you're excited by all that shit Ed, eager to go but when I say lets go to my home, in the townships or ghetto you hesitate because a homeboy might shoot you.
Neil: Now that's some bullshit. Tell me I'm wrong. You're always thrilled to get your adrenaline rushing but you're scared to go to a ghetto 'things change'
04-18-2012, 11:20 PM
Cold. Snow is cold- or it is supposed to be- but I am so very hot. The very thought of the innuendo makes my mouth stretch upwards into a smile, but I shake my head briskly. Now is so not the time. I shake my head once, twice, and clear the thought. I can hear the wind in my ears, and almost feel every individual snowflake that lands on the sleeve of my baggy jacket. Everything is orange-tinted, thanks to my goggles, but I get the point- snowy and pristine and perfect. No one has been here yet, so the only set of footprints is my own, and they lead in one direction. I am alone in the middle of nowhere- actually, that isn’t entirely accurate.
I am alone on top of the middle of nowhere. I take a deep breath. In, out. I can do this. With one more in-out breath, I reach behind me and unhook the board from my backpack, dropping it on the ground. It makes a gentle thud noise that somehow echoes loudly in my ears. Giving myself no time at all to think about what I am doing, not a second to second-guess this- I step in and fasten the straps. I am barely standing again before I lean forward, feeling the already-tenuous friction underneath me start to lose its grip.
Quickly I begin to build speed, racing down the hillside. This is a rush akin to nothing I’ve ever done before- even with the speediest of roller coasters there is the unspoken caveat that no one ever dies. This, though… well, everybody knows it’s easy to die hurtling down a mountain. It’s a goddamn mountain. Finally- finally- I reach the bottom, and I skid for a few moments on the flat land just to lose momentum before I let myself flop backward, falling butt-first into the snow. I take a deep breath before I realize that I have been holding it, and my lungs burn. Jesus.
Maybe someday, I’ll do this for real. But for the moment, it feels pretty damn good- even if all it really is is a TV screen, a controller, and a sofa. Pretty damn good.
04-19-2012, 01:28 AM
A Day in the Life of An Adrenaline Junkie
Matt woke up to the sound of screaming. He smiled and shut off his alarm, feeling his heart. It was pumping quickly from haven been woken up by false terror. The screaming wasn’t real danger; it was just the way his alarm was set off. You see, Matt was an adrenaline junkie. He rolled out and bed and slipped on his Heelys. He rolled on over to his bathroom and shaved using his pocket knife, just sharpened yesterday. He wheeled down his stairs, nearly falling. Rolling into his kitchen he grabbed a Coke, shaking it for good measure and opened it, letting the drink spew everywhere. He took a sip then popped a Mento, knowing he could die by stomach explosion. It didn’t matter; it put him in the edge. Heading out the door, Coke and Mentos in hand, he went to the subway. He jumped the turnstall, not getting caught. He felt the rush of getting away with crime. He then went into the LADIES’ restroom and wrote something on a stall. A dirty word. He tossed his HALF-FULL Coke can in the nonrecycling bin, even though the can said recycle. Whatta rush! He quickly ran back to his house, feeling hungry. He prank called pizza places, but they had caller ID and recognized Matt. Disappointed, he made some pizza rolls. He immediately ate them, without waiting the 2 minutes, throwing caution to the wind. What if he burned his tongue? He loved the risk. Still hungry, he made some popcorn, using the popcorn button instead of 2-3 minutes. He rested his head in front of the microwave. Radiation Smadiation. Instead of listening to the pop to know when to stop, he took out the popcorn when the timer was done. He quickly wolfed down the popcorn, while Heelying-it over to the pool. He knew that you should wait half an hour after eating but he dived, fully clothed, into the shallow end of the pool. He left soon after, escaping an angry lifeguard. For revenge he put a “Kick-Me” sign on the back of the Lifeguard chair. He wheeled home. Look at him, defacing property. All in the day of an adrenaline junkie.
Sadly this is what my life would be like if I lived 'ON THE EDGE'
04-19-2012, 01:28 AM
Double Post XD
Sooo, great job everyone! :D
excerpt from 'Zen and the art of washing your Llama,' by Notagud R'omodel, other works include 'The best way to associate with a monkey whilst avoiding lice,' and 'natures most disgusting pets.' Chapter 7, pg 108.
The washing of a Llama is a delicate task.
In previous chapters we have covered willpower - engaging the Llama using mnd control techniques, and commanding its aquiesence. In this chapter, we will discuss Llama cleanliness, a very important lifestyle factor when you own one of these beautiful creatures.
The unfortunate tendency of the Llama to spit means that you will almost certainly find yourself filthier upon completion of the task than the Llama was to begin with.
This is why it is important to find that peaceful place within yourself that does not mind being covered in bacteria ridden Llama spit. This can be quite a task to those new to Llama rearing, but never fear - after your first few spit baths you will find yourself completely accustomed to the smell and texture.
First, imagine a sanctuary for yourself, clean and fresh smelling (this is vital - your Zen place must be clean in order to combat the filthiness of your exterior.) Take deep, long breaths, being careful not to over-salivate, as this will only encourage your Llama to do likewise.
When you have reached a state of ultimate tranquility and peace, and you no longer mind if you drown in Llama spit, let alone get some on your new jeans, you can progress to washing your Llama.
edit:I love the way the topics are getting wilder as the month goes on.. cant wait to see April 30! :D
04-19-2012, 05:46 AM
"What on earth is that?" Kohrak leaped out of his armour, his skin and his cup of tea, before scrambling up the only climbable surface in the small room. "What in THIS UNIVERSE is that!?!"
Tahnok shrugged. "It's a llama."
"A llama? That thing that greedily has 2 Ls in its name?"
Tahnok shrugged again and turned his attention back to Nuhvok, who was calmly sponging the creature down with an old piece of cloth. "Yeah. Greedy."
Kohrak growled. "And what on earth are you doing with it right outside my third favourite surveillance room?"
"What are you doing with that rather human cup of tea?" Nuhvok finally spoke.
"I'm going to throw it at you if you don't move..." Kohrak growled again, then peered into his cup, realising he had spilled it all over himself. Typical, he had just polished his armour like an hour ago.
"You should read this new book..." Nuhvok reached round behind the llama and pulled out a rather dirty, soggy book with a picture of a llama on it. "Seriously. It'll change your life."
"I like my life..." Kohrak grunted.
"I don't. I just get the shit beaten out of me all the time..." Tahnok sighed as he took the book and started flicking through the pages, which appeared to be heavily laminated. "Zen and the art of washing your llama... Not very useful if you don't have a llama... I thought llamas liked to spit at people?"
"You must be joking..." Kohrak was still angry about his cup of tea. "Gimme that!" He snatched the book off Tahnok and started tearing through the pages, before suddenly pausing.
Nuhvok smiled meekly and returned to washing his llama.
"Nuuuhvok?" Kohrak hissed.
"You know this is a children's book, riiiight?" Kohrak's frown slowly turned into a grin.
Kohrak rolled his eyes before throwing the book at Nuhvok's head.
Edit: Hey, I was reading through my stories, and I realised I'd missed a huge chunk from my moon story. I'd accidentally pasted my unfinished version here instead of the finished one. I thought it was a shame that a whole paragraph was missing, so I pasted in the new version. Is that okay?
04-19-2012, 03:30 PM
“Zen and the Art of Washing Your Llama”
Is this a space-hopper, a biscuit which I see before me,
The fern toward my hornet? Come, let us skip merrily.
I'm a level fifteen Halloweeen mask in training, anyway,
I've got a magic martian and everything three towns away.
Chocolate eggs and banana slugs, the breakfast of champs.
I’ve never been a dashboard, but I love collecting stamps.
If you didn't dent treefrogs, they wouldn’t vomit in your hair.
Play Russian Roulette in a one-piston-engine suicidal chair.
Sometimes you’re more garish than a fatal "wanted" poster,
Meddling in the affairs of the playing field’s roller coasters.
I am a ghostly vagrant, and you are the bodyguard of tea.
Thou shalt not ever petrify short-circuited cottage cheese.
I can't have a phobia of happy-go-lucky beach towels
Without your email about the ten rabid gardening trowels.
Is this peanut butter a nuclear weapon golf ball, my friend?
Would you like a sobbing snorkel to face the very end?
And John Major said, "Let there be a whoopie-cushion",
And he saw that it was in a good standing-sitting position.
Remember when the jolly hedgehog regurgitated monoliths
And the paper-cranes of Warsaw traveled through the labyrinth?
You were just a gnu with a grappling hook way back then
And your favorite game was mozzarella the football hen.
We are the best of friends, two fire hydrants in a clockwork.
Let’s stay chained like soap-on-a-rope in a chimney berserk.
04-19-2012, 05:04 PM
Check out day 19!
Everything else is updated!
Three cheers for you guys on the last couple of topics. I was really curious to see what you would come up with, and you didn't disappoint! I love this contest!
04-19-2012, 07:16 PM
Ed: Remember when the Dali Llama tried to come to SA for the peace conference?
Neil: Yeah, I remember that shit man. That was some uncool vibes because his vista was rejected, apparently some form wasn't filled in.
Ed: The man has been in South Africa a dozen times and suddenly now his visa has issues. That was super uncool.
Neil: Don't you start on the whole conspiracy theory thing.
Ed: hey man, that can't be some coincidence. China is cracking down of Tibet and we happen to be besties with china.
Neil: Everyone is besties with china. Damn it, don’t make me use the word besties.
Ed: What the hell is wrong with the word besties?
Neil: Do I look three years old to you? Do I look like I need my diaper changed? Then stop using it.
Ed: You're a moron. We were talking about the Dali llama.
Neil: You know how power generally gets you women? Like when you're successful suddenly in the world of women. Now that you go the fly clothing and the kick ass car, now you matter?
Neil: Well the Dali llama is a pretty powerful figure isn't he? It would make sense if he had many women wouldn't it?
Ed: I've never thought about that.
Neil: It's a fun thought isn't it. You can't hate the Dali llama that's ridiculous, he's the fucking Dali llama. Imagine hundred of gorgeous women washing over the Dali llama's body.
Ed: Mmmm, that would be amazing. Absolutely amazing then I'd totally want to be the dali llama.
Neil: But then you'd be some old guy. With wrinkly balls.
Ed: One only has to look at the playboy household to know that right now there probably is a super model washing his wrinkled old balls right now man.
Neil: Man I wish I was in the playboy household.
Ed: Not me I want to be in the Dali Llama household.
Neil: Why? Wouldn't that lead to no meat eating. I don’t think I'd enjoy that.
Ed: It's more like this. You may get washed down by a dozen women because the home of Hugh is only so big. But the home of the Dali Llama is the world. There are six billion people in this world. Three billion women to clean me up.
Neil: Sure man, I'll go get my Nanna and your mother.
Ed: fuck you man.
Neil: I'm sure they'll love it.
Ed: Piss off!
04-19-2012, 10:22 PM
This looks like so much fun! I'll participate in day 19. I'm gonna start writing today, if that's alright, then just post tomorrow. :)
edit: I just sounded really stupid huh? I forgot that yesterday was the 18th... Hehe. In that case, I might still wait until tomorrow to post.
edit: Nevermind here it is. :)
Her footsteps made gentle thuds on the hardwood flooring of her home. The young girl looked around with innocent blue eyes. Light streamed into the room through stain-glass windows of the house. She liked the colorful patterns the light made of the walls. It reminded her of when the sun would set, and seem to light the tips of pine trees on fire. Or on July 4th, when fireworks would explode, filling the night sky with light.
She wondered if she would ever get used to living in the new house. She could tell that she loved it already. But it looked so… different. Almost too good. It was old, and creaky. All the floors were made of antique oak wood. The walls had history imbedded in them. Hundreds of families had lived there. The house had hidden many from harm in times of war. But whether or not it fit her, her mother would not be swayed. After the girl’s grandmother had passed away. It had been uncovered in her will that the house was to go to her closest living descendants. Even though they were complete strangers to her.
The young girl’s name was Amber, by the way. She was only seven years old. She had pale skin, and hair to match. Her eyes were bright, and blue. She wore a pretty azure gown, which matched her eyes perfectly. Her small, delicate hands fiddled with her long braid of blonde hair. She wished she could undo it. She hated to do things with her hair. Amber wondered when she would be allowed to go outside and play.
Bored, she sat down on one of the many cardboard boxes in the room, and leaned back against the sturdy wall behind her. She looked at the colorful patterns on the wall, coming from the light which was stained as it came through the surreal windows. She gave a little sigh, as her mother often did when she had something on her mind. She could tell it was windy outside. Tree branches waved in front of the windows, and made the colors dance on the walls. She giggled, thinking the leaves almost looked like fairies dancing their fairy dances. They twirled, and skipped happily. It made her happy. She only wished there could actually be fairies in the new house to talk to, and to be her friends. All her other friends had been left behind when they had moved.
“Amber!” Her mother’s firm, but kind voice rang out through the house. “Come to dinner darling!"
“Yes Mama!” Amber answered, glancing back once at the lights swaying gently. Fairies… Now that would be something. Her light footsteps followed her out of the room, and into the kitchen, where the clanking of dishes could be heard as her mother set out dinner.
Outside the trees stopped dancing. The ‘wind’ stopped blowing. Several glowing lights sighed with disappointment as their audience left.
Upon closer inspection of the lights, one might see that in fact delicate arms, legs, faces, and wings graced the small bodies of what someone might call… Fairies.
“Don’t worry.” One said gently to the others. “She’ll be back after dinner.”
04-20-2012, 03:11 AM
Zen and the Art of Washing Your Llama
Stacy got into her red Camaro and put the keys in the ignition, starting the engine. She had been really stressed that week and desperately needed her therapy class.
This class was the best of the best in Beverly Hills. All the top CEOs and Movie stars went there when they were stressed. This was a brand new fad on how to relax on stress. Instead of yoga and pointless therapy, they washed llamas.
At first people thought it was a good. Washing llamas to feel peace? It was the stupidest thing they had ever heard. It had to be a joke. But then celebrities that everyone knew started being spotted at these Zen Llama hot spots and claiming they had spectacular results. Then an llama washing uproar began. People started buying llamas left and right. Small countries that raised llamas for living were soon vacation dream destinations. The import rate for llamas sky rocketed. And as long as the llamas were well-fed, animal activists had no problem. After all, the people were just washing llamas.
Stacy pulled into the parking lot of the center for llama washing and Zen meditation. She immediately greeted her llama, Carlos, who wore an adorbs hat. She lead his over to her station. Selena Gomez sits beside her, scrubbing her llama with a relaxed look on her face. Stacy flashes her a million-dollar smile, but the superstar’s eyes are closed. Stacy shrugs and her trainer comes over with a sponge and bucket.
“Ah, Stacy, you’re back. Are you ready to continue the Art of Llama washing?” he asked with a smile.
“Of course!” Stacy said, “I know what to do from her Hans. Thank you.” Hans bowed and walked away to help a client with an especially feisty llama.
Stacy wet her llama and closed her eyes as she started soaping the llama. What in the world could be more relaxing?
04-20-2012, 05:46 AM
Here’s the thing no one ever tells you about llamas- they are disgusting creatures. Not only that, but they’re mean. No, seriously. People tend to think of them as something like giant dogs or cats- either self-grooming or so damn lovable that they make it worth it to get covered in suds and hose water a few times a month. The only similarity they have- seriously, the only with dogs is that you will often walk away from a llama with your face covered in spit. Not, however, because you will get adorable chin-to-hair kisses with a big, soft, warm tongue. Oh, no. You will be covered in spit because llamas, those fucking South American sumbitches, spit. That’s right. Try to have an affectionate moment with a llama and she will pull her big, hairy lips over square yellow teeth and launch a stream of pungent saliva straight at you, with zero regard as to the newness of your top or the perfection of your hair that day.
You would think that if you were to have a llama cub- a cria, technically- that you could raise it from birth and it would become attached to you and maybe, just maybe, the two of you can have a go at the crazy world you like to call the owner-pet relationship. This is not at all the case. In fact, the opposite is true. If you raise a llama from birth and give it actual human contact, it will grow up lacking a fear of humans that is apparently essential for llama manners. This will lead the gigantic creature (seriously, those wooly douche bags can grow up to 500 pounds, people) to treat humans like it treats other llamas- and llamas are dicks to each other. To move up, socially, in the pack, they start physical fights rivaled only by the Real Housewives of New Jersey. They will dive bomb you with their heads. You have not seen, nor will you ever see, anything quite as terrifying as a llama getting a neurotic look in their eye and suddenly rearing his head backwards on that long, thick neck, only to bring it down with the force of a thousand clones of that girl from Precious all deciding to sit down at once.
They’re also hairy beasts. Literally. They are covered in a wiry hair that is supposed to be great for blankets, but if we’re being really honest here they just make a horribly itchy and kind of smelly couch throw, the kind that people will actually leave laying on the couch while they get up, go to the linen closet to get a quilt, and lay back down. The major setback here is that this wiry, usually ugly hair tends to collect all kinds of nastiness that can be described in one of two ways: either as particles or, if you want to get really fancy about it, simply as stuff. This particular disgusting little quirk means that you have to wash your llama every now and then, which… no. Just… no. There is no particular zen about it, the way you can wash a window- spray, squeegee, wipe, spray, squeegee, wipe- nor is there the potential to be adorable the way you wash a dog. The only fair way to describe it would be to compare it to having two housecats, where one regularly dive-bombs the other with routine baths that always seem to wind up in a fight and then one cat sitting miserably while the victorious cat both sits on them and licks their face with smug triumph.
Altogether, if you are considering getting, or even just bathing a llama… don’t.
04-20-2012, 06:43 AM
April 18: Zen and the Art of Washing Your Llama.
"Um Max, what are you reading?" my mom asked, raising a brow at me in curiosity.*
"Oh you know, a book maybe?" I asked, my voice sarcastic.
My mom rolled her eyes, and and walked to the kitchen. She knew damn well that I wouldn't tell her, it's embarrassing! That I would be reading a children's story book. Called 'Zen and the Art of Washing Your Llama.'that is way to embarrassing.
She would tell my brother, he would tell me dad, and my dad would tell everyone. No one needs to know that I get joy out of reading child books.*
I sighed, and closed my book. Soon I stood from my couch and went to my room.*
I heard a knock on my bedroom door, and I muttered for them to come in.
My best friend Luke came into my room, and grinned when he looked at me. "Whatcha readin'?" he asked, walking to sit on my bed.
"Oh nothing, a book about this kid that walks around in his birthday suit in public." I lied, smirking when I looked up at him.
" You're an idiot. I can read ya know, and that title doesn't look like the description." Luke stated, shaking his head as he held in a laugh.
Crap! Ugh, curse him for learning to read. I sighed, and shook my head. I know he's gonna tell people, I just know it.*
He grinned, and before I knew it he was running for my door. I screamed like a girl in a horror flick and ran after him. Just as he entered the living room I jumped onto his back.*
He yelped, and we rolled around like idiots. My mom and dad ran in, and stared at us*with wide eyes.*
"What are y'all doing?!" my dad yelled, tapping his foot in annoyance. Luke laughed, and I covered his mouth. He licked my hand, and I jumped off of him scowling.
"Ew! You're so gross! That's worse than telling them I was reading a child book butt wipe!" I screamed, wiping my hand off on my pants. I stopped, and gasped at my own stupidity. I just told on myself!
I looked up, and looked around. Everyone had an evil grin on their faces, and I gulped. Oh my mcjezz here it comes, my public demise all because I read Zen and the Art of Washing Your Llama.
04-20-2012, 12:07 PM
"Leeeeeeeeeeeeehvaaaaaaaaaak?" Gahlok's voice echoed down the tunnel. "Where aaaaaaaaaaaaaare you?"
Gahlok swore he'd heard Lehvak wander down this tunnel. Or was it the previous tunnel? Or the tunnel before that? Was it even Lehvak he was looking for?
"Lehvak, this isn't funny." If anything, Gahlok was starting to feel rather worried. Only Bohrok-Kal like himself were allowed down these tunnels, but that didn't mean that they were safe or anything. And Gahlok was known for getting lost even in the normal parts of the nest.
"Leeeeehva... What was that?"
Something flittered past, just outside Gahlok's eyesight. Something pink. And glittery.
It headed down that tunnel there. The one with... The glowing mushrooms?
Gahlok blinked, then rubbed his eyes. Maybe he was just imagining things. But something had flown down there. His heart said so. So he followed his heart. Towards the glowiness. Around the corner...
The tunnel suddenly opened up into a small cave. The walls were lined with glowing mushrooms of all shapes and sizes. On the ground were what looked like miniature farms, full of different flowering plants. The ceiling was covered in white, shimmering gems, each one emitting what looked like pure sunlight. And darting around like little insects were...
"Fairies..." The word slipped out. The creatures turned to face him.
Hundreds of them. Their little wings flashing like diamonds. Leaving trails of glitter with each flicker.
And as each one flickered by, Gahlok's eyes drooped more and more. Until finally...
"Gahlok, can you hear me?"
Gahlok's eyes slowly opened. He wasn't in the cave. He was somewhere blurry.
The blur above him slowly turned into something red and silver. "Oh, hai, Tahnok... Where am I?" Gahlok struggled to his feet.
"Healing room. Lehvak found you in a tunnel. You were unconscious." Tahnok sighed then pulled off his tiny little red gloves. "You seem okay though. Good thing we have reinforced heads, otherwise you'd have a concussion."
"What about the fairies?" Gahlok asked.
"The ones in the cave!"
Tahnok glanced around. "Er, there were no fairies. They don't exist..."
04-20-2012, 08:16 PM
“The Green Fairy”
I never used to think I would ever become an alcoholic. Well, my addiction is more like a drug than alcohol, but I never thought I’d ever become addicted to a drug, either. I sat before my canvas, no ideas coming to mind as I waited in frustration for any form of inspiration to reveal itself to me. When I’d had enough and had felt too impatient to wait any longer, I gave up and decided to have a visit with The Green Fairy. I poured a small bit of the spirit into my glass and sat the special spoon atop it with a sugar cube sitting all alone on top. Then I poured cold water over the ice cube and the smells blossomed from out of the cup as the green liquid became frothy and it was ready to drink. It was soon gone, and I went for another cup when I finally succumbed to The Green Fairy and her whimsy, striking me with a sudden idea for my next piece of work. I sat in my chair and began painting a background, then the pale, delicate face of a beautiful muse clothed in green. The Green Fairy was my inspiration as my head swirled with surreal visions of things I could never imagine on my own. The scenes flowed from my head to the canvas as I put down on the colors and spoke the language of the spirit with paint that others couldn’t understand. Without absinthe, I was a washed up has-been. With the aid of the bright green drink, I was an innovator, one of the great minds of the time. At least, with the drug...that’s what it seemed.
04-20-2012, 10:57 PM
Ed: Okay Neil I've not to know. Do you think fairies are real.
Neil: What you mean? Like Tinker bell or like that Richard guy from survivor.
Ed: The tinker bell type.
Neil: What the hell is wrong with you. Of course not this is South Africa, we don’t believe in that shit. We don’t even acknowledge it. No tokoloshi's on the other hand. Now that shit is fucked up.
Ed: Well I was talking about fairies but now I'm curious as to what the hell you're talking about.
Neil: tokoloshi's they are dark creature, very much like goblins but magical and small like fairies that come to a person's home, pick you up in their sleep and carry you off at night.
Ed: that's some ridiculous bullshit.
Neil: Is it? You don’t know that but what matters is that many and I mean many rural South Africans believe this to be a fact. You have a maid right?
Ed: Yeah. Well the parents do, she just passes by the apartment to clean up for extra pay.
Neil: You've seen where she sleeps right?
Ed: Yeah, I have.
Neil: What you notice about the bed.
Ed: It has bricks under it.
Neil: Doesn't that strike you as odd? I mean you guys aren't that poor that you can't afford legs for the bed and yet the bed still has bricks.
Ed: Shit man, you're totally right.
Neil: It's a massive thing over here man. People really believe in those creatures. Scares the shit out of pathetic fairies. If there were fairies here, there would be only fairy bones because the tokoloshi's would kill the crap off them.
Ed: I don’t know about that. Magically powered creatures...who pick up and carry people away in the night... but these powerful tiny creatures are stopped by...let me get this straight... a brick.
Neil: Yeah, most definitely. *laughs*
Ed: So the creatures walk up to the bed and then go Eish a brick!
Neil: *Laughs* for the rest of the world it would be damn, a brick.
Ed: Or hot damn a brick
Neil: Oi vey A bricksha!
Ed: Dios mios! El bricko!
Neil: No man! A brick man! Where's da weed.
Ed: Crikey A Brickmate!
Wrap that up for the international crowd!
04-21-2012, 03:49 AM
(If I format it, it's look better!)
“THALIA!” the angry Seasons teacher yelled wiping pink goo off her cheeks. “You will never pass Fairy School! You are a failure!”
“Sorry!” trilled the teenage fairy. She waved her hand and the pink goo immediately fell from her and the teacher’s clothes, “I didn’t mean to, Miss Fallows!”
“Get out! GET OUT!” Miss Fallows yelled, her face turning purple, “I don’t care where you go but just GET OUT OF MY CLASS!”
Thalia shamefully walked out. This wasn’t the first time she has messed up, big-time in a class. In her flying class, Twirling and Spinning, she had accidently miscast a spell. Instead of leaving a trail of glitter wherever she flew, she accidentally made a hug glitter storm that left some fairies hacking up sparkles. In Herbology and Healing, her plant growth spell caused the plant to grow rapidly, then grab some unfortunate nearby fairies and squeeze them until Mr. Flores was able to control the vines.
Distraught, Thalia sadly walked to the office. The secretary, Miss Lotus, who was a kind and young fairy, noticed her and frowned.
“Oh dear, Thalia,” Miss Lotus said, “Having a bad day?”
“I’ll never pass, and I’ll never get to do anything fun or exciting,” Thalia sighed, “I’ll end up putting dew drops on spider webs for the rest of my life.”
Miss Lotus looked upon Thalia with sympathy. She liked Thalia and it seemed like Thalia always got into a little trouble with her magic. “Don’t think like that Thalia. Why don’t you fly home and get some rest to refill your magic? That might help you.”
Thalia gave a sad wave to the red-haired, kind fairy and flittered out. She flew out to the tree she lived in. No one was at home when she entered. She flew up to her room and looked in the mirror. “I’ll never be a good fairy,” she sighed. She decided to take her chances on Earth. She packed her things and flew there to open her own school. A fairy school for humans. Of course, people thought it was all play, but she was happy.
04-21-2012, 04:26 PM
Worst admin ever.
Topics for today and yesterday have been added! Sorry kids... You'll get extra time for yesterday's!
GO GO GO
Stuff's updated. Did I miss anyone?
damn, I looked last night and the topic before 'fairies' was still open, so i thought I had another day to do fairies D:
Miss, can I have an extension!!!!! Joking... I know I'm too late, but I'ma write one for that day anyway...
In the sun,
In my backyard - what fun,
It's a little tiny ring
of flowers - fairies are within!
I know, I've never seen them,
Doesn't mean that they aren't there!
In my heart I know it's true,
Fairies are everywhere!
They wake before the dawn,
every morning before the sun,
They have so many things to do
before the days begun -
they put the dewdrops on the flowers
(as was mentioned above)
and handle all the pretty little things that people love,
Like painting the grass with frost,
Pretty and so cold,
Coz' many plants need it
if they're going to unfold,
They colour the sky bright,
With the spectrum of the sun,
in the morning on the mountains,
Just to please the eyes of everyone,
They help the spiders with their webs,
So delicate and fine,
And when their done with all the other stuff,
They plant good feelings in your mind,
When you wake up happy,
ready to seize the day,
You can be sure you have a fairy,
somewhere near your place,
She sits just behind your face,
Beaming out her smile,
And radiating love and light,
into you for a while,
just so you will have the sweetest dreams,
and smile when you wake,
any myths of evil fairies, well
myth makers better realise their mistake,
they are sweet and kind and lovely,
going out of their way,
to make the world a precious place,
each and every day before we wake.
sigh... here's day 20's:
The Last Page of her Diary.
April 20, 2012.
What's the point? It's all over.
I mean really, what is the f*cking point in all this?
May as well give it up now. There's no use trying to continue this.
Everything I say and do being analysed by anyone who feels like throwing their opinion in? This is crap!
I'm not doing it anymore!
I'm giving up my diary!
No longer will I put down my every thought, just for it to fall into the grubby hands of my little brother! Yep, that's what happened, diary. He took you to school with him! Made photocopies!
Now the whole school knows all about the time dad caught me smoking one of his cigarettes under the house, knows all about how I feel for ... well, I'm not gonna be stupid enough to say anything more here.
He'll just find it, use it against me again.,
So this is it, diary. This is goodbye.
Nothing against YOU! I promise. You've been a good friend to me. But I can't confide in you any longer. I thought you'd keep my secrets safe, thought you'd protect them but obviously, I was wrong. And It was wrong of me to put so much responsibiity on you, anyway.
So this is me, diary. Signing out.
It's been fun, while it lasted. Thanks for being there for me for so long - but now you're going in the fire.
A Heroes Feat.
Hercules frowned as he stared into the mirror, swivelling his torso this way and that, his eyes scrutinizing.
"What are you doing, Herc?" his father asked, appearing silently behind him in that unnerving way.
"Dad! Jeez - how many times do I have to say it, can you knock before you... appear... in my room!"
Zeus sighed, leaning on his lightning bolt, fixing concerned eyes on his son.
"Herc, you're a demi-god! A hero! You've fought hydra's, defeated Hades and his titans... and you're jumpy over your own father appearing in your room?"
"Yeah, well, maybe if I didn't HAVE Hydras and Hades popping up around every corner, I wouldn't be jumpy! Anyway, can't you see I'm busy?!"
Hercules turned his eyes back to the mirror, studying himself, a frown on his face.
"Man, my feet are huge! They're horrible! I'm like a circus clown, not a hero!"
Zeus sighed again.
He hade been dealing with this for a few weeks now, ever since his son started noticing girls... every day it was something different - his haircut was so old fashioned, his eyes were too blue, did his butt look big in this? Hercules was self obsessed - well, obsessed with how girls might see him, anyway, and the constant sef-depricating remarks were really starting to get to Zeus. He was the god of all gods, for gods sake! He was used to people complaining - about famine, disease, war, general chaos... but oversized feet? This was getting ridiculous.
"Herc, your feet are just fine," he assured his son, but Hercules wouldn't be persuaded. With a third sigh, Zeus poofed out of Hercules' room again, leaving him to scrutinize himself by himself.
"Dad doesn't even care... how am I ever gonna get a girlfriend with feet like these?"
"Your feet are wonderful, darling. Very strong, very heroic!"
It was a womans voice this time - Herc turned to face his mother.
"Mu-um!" he whined, "Can't you guys respect my privacy? I mean... heroic, did you say?" he asked, his tone changing dramatically as he was once more distracted by the mirror.
"Oh yes, darling. The best kind of feet! You know, your fathers' large, heroic feet were one of the things that first made me notice him..." Hera was talking out of her behind, obviously, but it worked.
"Thanks mum!" Herc grinned, "You always know just what to say. Now, these heroic feet were made for walking, and that's just what they're gonna do... right over to the girls' mess hall."
Hera chuckled as her son left, strutting proudly, his 'heroic' feet leading the way.
04-22-2012, 02:12 AM
April 20, 1840
Isn’t it odd that the end of your use happens on the day that a significant part of my life ends? To be honest, it’s not so much as an end as a literal and metaphorical “closing of a book” for you and I. Just because this is your last page, it doesn’t mean that you’re done forever. You will still exist, but it will be in a new, and empty form. Just as you will be taking on a new form, I will be taking on a new title in life. You see, my dearest Diary, my wedding day has finally arrived. In a little less than three hours, I will (finally) take the last name of a man who I have loved for a little more than two years. I still cannot believe that two and a half months have passed since he proposed to me.
Forgive me, my friend, but it is time for me to finish this entry, as I have a little more than half a page left and my mother is telling me to start getting ready for the wedding, since she needs enough time to be able to do my hair after I bathe and put my gown on. My soon-to-be husband gave me a beautiful new diary as a wedding present, so I will try to write to you in your new form later tonight if there is time for me to do so.
Goodbye for now, my friend.
Signed (for the final time),
Miss Stephanie B.
(Day 20 Entry)
04-22-2012, 06:01 AM
Super crappy last minute post before time hits! Forgive me!!!
Last page of her diary.
Neil: You really read April's Diary?
Ed: Hells yeah I did, that's my sister.
Neil: You realise if the police find your mangled body, and they're doing the investigation, and they discover you read April's diary, and I say it again, discover you read April's diary. They're gonna close the case off at suicide.
Ed: Screw you, she's my sister.
Neil: She's more than just you're sister, she's not attached to you at the hip man. She's in her late teens, what eighteen or nineteen. Though if anything it's kinda weird that she has a diary. Is it still a diary when you're not a kid anymore? Just seems like something that dies out when you're not a kid. I think when you're older the definition of the diary changes doesn't it? I mean had you looked at those leather, older man diaries? They have times and dates and shit. It's not gaps to talk about your life at all.
Ed: That's pretty uninteresting but yeah, I get what you're saying. I think it becomes a journal.
Neil: Yeah Captain Spock didn't keep a fucking diary.
Ed: Hells yeah, he kept a journal.
Neil: See it's a journal now. Maybe it's a class thing?
Ed: Yeah I know what you mean. Like if you're rich and crazy your ass is eccentric. But if your ass is poor then, then you're just plain old crazy.
Neil: You got that right. Or like how Kennedy was assassinated and Tupac... he just got shot.
04-22-2012, 06:35 AM
“The Last Page of Her Diary”
The voices won’t stop. They’re getting worse and worse everyday. It’s so bad. I’ve done something terrible that they told me to do. Something so terrible. Ever since I read that book out loud with Todd and tried to put a spell on Jack for him to like me, things have been going all wrong. I saw Tiffany at the bowling alley with Jack again today and...I followed her out to her car after swim practice and was going to confront her about it. But on my way there...the voices just kept telling me to go after her, to kill her. At first our conversation was doing fine, but when she mentioned wanting to date Jack, I lost it and strangled her with her lanyard then took her keys off of it, put her in the back seat and drove off, pushing her car into a lake. Someone’s going to find out, I just know. I will be in so much trouble. I didn’t do a very good job of removing evidence and I was probably caught on the school surveillance system killing Tiffany. I’m never getting out of prison. I suppose since I’m already going to be put away forever, I have time before I’m caught to commit another murder....I’ve always hated my stepmom. I think the world would be a better place without her. So long, my friend. This will most likely be my last entry.
04-22-2012, 08:40 AM
The Last Page Of Her diary
Gahlok flicked through the diary. A page for every day. Even days when he was in hospital, or ill or busy, there was an entry. Each one with a note at the top and a small, scrawny date. Each one with 'Dear Phovos,' written at the beginning.
Phovos was an odd name for a diary. Gahlok knew the word meant fear. It came straight from Greek. It was just written in English. With a PH instead of an F. But spelling meant little to Gahlok. This was almost all that remained of Tahnok.
If anything, the diary reminded Gahlok of when Tahnok disappeared. 15 years, he was gone for. Until one day, Kutrak found him and Kohrak in a ditch. Needles sticking out of them. Tied up and left for dead. No one had even noticed that Kohrak had also disappeared several years beforehand. Both of them were known to keep to themselves and rarely interact with the outside world.
It occurred to Gahlok that he didn't know Tahnok or Kohrak. At all. He'd never sat down with them on a cloudy afternoon and chatted to them. He'd never had a meal out with them. He'd never done anything with them.
Where were they now? They were gone. Dead. Buried. When Kutrak found them, their bodies were frozen. Their hearts had stopped beating weeks ago. And if it wasn't for the diary Tahnok had been clutching when they were found, no one would have known what they went through before they died.
Torture. Sick experiments. Genetic manipulation. Mind altering. To the point that Kohrak made himself go blind. To the point where Tahnok no longer believed he was male. To the point where they started killing themselves.
It was all written down in the diary. Reading it sent shivers down Gahlok's spine. Even just looking at it scared him.
Tortured. Beaten. Broken.
And no one knew.
With a cry, Gahlok turned to the last page of his diary. Wait, her diary, according to Tahnok's writings. He ought not to have read it, but he did.
"We are going to die today. No one cares. We die in silence. No one will care. No one ever did."
A Hero's Feat
"MOVE! GET OUT OF HERE!"
They'd lost. Big time. Hundreds of RED Soldiers and Demomen charged across the hill, sweeping over the team's defences. A hurricane of rockets and grenades, destroying all in their path.
"How the fuck did this happen?" Scout shouted as he ducked for cover behind a large container, pulling Spy with him.
"I don't know! But those wankas are gonna fucking kill us if we don't get out of here!" Sniper tried to hold his ledge, sniping at as many enemies as possible, but with so many explosions, he could barely aim, let alone kill anyone. "ENGI!"
Engineer's head popped up from behind an upturned truck. "AH'M BUSY!"
"Engineer got teleporters up yet?" Heavy boomed as a grenade exploded nearby, separating him from Medic and Soldier.
"NO! AH'M WORKING ON IT! KEEP THAT COVER GOING!" Engineer shouted before disappearing again.
Soldier nodded. "Demoman, get your ass up there and help Sniper! Scout, Spy, find Pyro then help Engineer! We'll cover the rest of you ladies while you run away!"
Scout was about to rush out, when Spy tugged at his belt, stopping him from running, just as a large, red, glowing rocket crashed into a gas canister, causing a large explosion.
"No apologies necessary, Scout. We are even now..." Spy pulled a revolver from his pocket.
"MMMMPH!" Pyro darted out from just behind the exploded canisters, skilfully reflecting a rocket back towards the enemy before disappearing behind Engineer's truck. Scout and Spy took the chance to run too, and quickly joined Pyro.
"Komrades, I have full charge but zhis medigun is damaged! I do not know if it vill sustain an ubercharge!" Medic yelled, narrowly missing a grenade that bounced by. But his cries were interrupted.
"TELEPORTER'S UP! GET YAR ASSES HERE NOW!" Engineer bellowed, pushing Scout through the glowing entrance.
Soldier pointed towards the teleporter. "GET IN, LADIES! MEDIC, DEPLOY THAT UBER!"
"DO IT!" Soldier screamed.
Medic pulled the top lever of his medigun, activating the charge. But the flow of power was not steady. Soldier glanced over and watched as Spy and Pyro entered the teleporter and started firing rockets back towards the charging hordes. As he did so, Demoman fired a few cover grenades then grabbed Sniper, leaping down into the connecting sewerline, which joined up with the teleporter's exit a kilometre away. Finally, Heavy started to retreat, having run out of ammo, towards the teleporter, just as Engineer disappeared.
"C'MON, DOC!" Soldier shouted, reloading and firing more rockets. "TWO MORE SECONDS!"
Medic glared at the dial. "VE DO NOT HAVE TWO MORE SEC-AAAAARGH!"
The medibeam snapped, just as a rocket exploded between Medic and Soldier. Soldier was thrown upwards towards the tunnel, while Medic was thrown backwards into a wrecked car. Another explosion rocked the ground.
"The teleporter!" Soldier screamed. "It's GONE!"
"C'mon, Soldier! Move ya fat backside b'for ya get blown apart!" Demoman yelled from the entrance of the tunnel, safely hidden by scrap metal.
Soldier though didn't move. His eyes were scanning the area. "MEDIC! WHERE ARE YOU?"
There was no response. Soldier shouted again, but still nothing. Not that he could hear much over the sound of explosions. But finally, he spotted that familiar white labcoat.
Ducking and weaving between wreckage and explosions, Soldier finally made it to the unconscious doctor, amid Demoman's warnings. In a single move, he threw Medic over his shoulders, then grabbed his rocket launcher, not pausing to realise that he was in fact carrying a grown man.
"I hope this works..." Soldier grunted as he aimed at his feet and fired, propelling both himself and Medic towards the tunnel.
Demoman ushered Soldier in, then sealed the entrance.
"That's probably the most heroic thin' I've seen in a while, mate!" Sniper patted Soldier on the back as they carried Medic back to their base.
04-22-2012, 07:01 PM
Day 22 is up! 20 and 21 are still open because I was late in posting them. Tomorrow morning they will both close when I put up the new topic!
04-22-2012, 08:48 PM
A Hero's Feet.
Ed: You know, is it me or some female super heroes really creepy looking?
Neil: What do you mean?
Ed: Well think about it. Have you ever seen some of the female heroes out there? Well is it me or are they really whorish looking?
Ed: Neil fuck man look at them. That's some bullshit man look at the justice lead. These are the lead heroes of the DC universe, I mean in the world of DC characters this is fucking it. And the lead two women, out of like ten men, but that's a side point. There's no equality among members of the world maybe they felt the justice league shouldn't be any different.
Neil: Hey don’t even get me started on black people. You know my theory on white people not wanting us their fantasies, only having us to be politically correct and shit.
Ed: You're threading man.
Ed: Now there's a massive amount of men than there are women in this, which I guess makes sense. It's quite clear the people who religiously buy these comics have enough women in their lives to do with more.
Ed: Of course.
Neil: Well done.
Ed: I try, any way that was not my complaint. My complaint is that I that I have a real relationship with someone I love. What if I have a daughter? And she wants to dress up as a super hero. Let's have a look Wonder Woman. The name is decent, it says something useful. But what the fuck is she wearing. She's supposed to be some super woman, of a tribe of superwoman. And she's wearing spandex and go go boots. Oh the hooker boots drive me mad!
Neil: They are not hooker boots.
Ed: Really Neil? You telling me if you didn't know who wonder woman was, and she was talking the street and you were a policeman. You wouldn't arrest the shit out of her? You were a hotel manager, you'd let her in? You wouldn't tell her to fuck off, you wouldn't say 'sorry the rooms don’t charge by the hour?'
Neil: I have a feeling you're not done..
Ed: Hells yeah. What the fuck is up with the Black Canary? Fish net stockings? Seriously Fish net stockings? Could a super hero allowed to be in charge of or responsible for anything . I don’t want my six year old wanting to dress up as the woman in fish net stockings. And what possible function could they be? At least wonder woman has those bracelets which she knocks bullets away. Sure one could bring up the question of why not just Kevlar but fuck it.
Neil: Wow, they really bother you. *Laughs*
Ed: They honestly don’t bother you?
Neil: I'd planned on having boys but you know, if my kid was to be someone it sure as hell shouldn't be those two. I feel like if a doctor ever said it's a girl in the future I'd end up hugging myself in the shower!
04-22-2012, 10:34 PM
"Heroes: City of Thieves (My Ending)"
“DAMN IT!” Kolya cried out, gripping his leg firmly as the bullet grazed him. It was fired by a startled officer patrolling near the general’s home where he and I were to bring the eggs. It couldn’t end this way, not after all we’d been through together in order to earn our freedom. Cannibals, dogs, spiteful Nazi officers, and Russian assassins like Vika couldn’t keep us down. And neither would a bullet wound to the leg. I took my scarf off and tied it around his leg tightly, feeling the sudden biting cold upon my neck and ears now. The officers ran through the snow and approached us in panic. “I-I’m so sorry...we didn’t know!” The one who fired apologized and offered us a ride in their army vehicle to get my agonized friend to the hospital in time. “I’ll warn you, they’re a little busy tonight, but we’ll do the best we can to help get you treated quicker,” said the second officer as they helped prop Kolya up and waddled toward the vehicle. Kolya chuckled darkly and a smile quirked up on one side of his mouth as he looked over saying, “I used to be an officer like you, until I took a bullet to the knee.”
I had no choice but to leave my comrade in the hospital. Time was running out and I swore to him I’d get the eggs back to the general in time to earn our freedoms back. I made the journey myself this time, feeling an emptiness beside me where Kolya was usually going on and on about something. More often than not, it was a girl he was talking about or the book he was "writing". His mind was always on the track of sexual intentions. I shook my head and rolled my eyes as I walked, nearing the general’s home closer and closer. I eventually made it and got in to see him, only to find he’d had several dozens of eggs already at his disposal. And was met with the news that the man his daughter was supposed to marry was killed in the crossfire of the ongoing battle near Leningrad. The wedding had been called off and the eggs for the wedding cake were not needed.
Unfortunately, even though there wasn’t a need for the eggs in the cake anymore, the general still took them. I couldn’t help but furrow my brows. So many people were starving out there, people he was supposed to be helping to protect were dying of hunger or directly being killed due to war-related injuries. And this man couldn’t even afford some generosity or even a “thank you” for all the trouble and hell we went through to bring him some eggs. I left angrily and never saw the man again until the day Kolya married his daughter...which left him livid.
Oh yeah, Kolya lived. I went back to the hospital and stayed with him for three days before he was able to make it on his own. Since we had no place to go anymore and we were free men, Kolya, the general’s daughter (Mishka) and I escaped to Switzerland where, some years down the road, Vika found me again. Apparently, she’d survived everything and had made a good name for herself as a very successful assassin during the war. When she decided to settle and seek peace once and for all, she came to ask me to marry her at the age of twenty-two. I accepted her odd proposal and I’ve never regretted it. Mishka and Kolya were happy together and decided to settle in a small home in the Swiss Alps. Vika and I waited until the war was over and decided to travel the world. We eventually took a tumble into the States and fell in love with it, making the decision to stay there as long as we could. And we have.
The scars from the past still linger, of course, but it matters little now that life has slowed considerably. With so much time to reflect on what is really important in life, one begins to realize everything in life builds you up even when it feels as if it tears you down. My life is proof of that. Through everything, I gained an unexpected best friend, a wonderful wife and a life I could never have dreamed of. I have everything one could want from life. Nothing has ever felt so good as this.
04-23-2012, 02:55 AM
The last page of her diary.
I’m done. I’m freaking done. They say time heals everything, but obviously ‘’they’’ are full of bullshit.
It’s been 5 years and not one thing has gotten better. In fact, things have only gotten worse.
First of all, it turns out Dad’s ‘’I need space’’ meant ‘’I’m getting a divorce’’. And guess who hasn’t called or written to check on his oh-so-beloved daughter since the divorce? I wonder if he still has the #1 Dad mug I gave him when I was younger. Hah, what a joke.
The divorce wasn’t the only bad thing that only got worse. It was a mistake to try and stay friends with Sasha. She only stabbed me in the back. All these years of teasing and critiquing me, I just can’t take it anymore. We had a nasty fight. It ended with “Why don’t you go kill yourself?!” That was probably the best advice
Sasha has ever given me.
I tried to focus on school through all this crap going on in my life. Nope, didn’t help. I’ve been failing all my classes. And I mean all of them. Skipping class to hang with Jake didn’t help me at all, though.
Speaking of Jake, we broke up today. Well, it was an unspoken break up. I caught him with that whore Stacy. Everyone know she’s crawling with STDs. Whatever. They’re perfect for each other.
Life sucks diary. It really does. What’s the point of it? I don’t believe in anything. If God was real, and loved me so much, he wouldn’t condemn me to this fate. Well, I’ll be getting the last laugh diary. I’ll be the one who wins. I hope they cry at my funeral. I hope they beg and plead for my forgiveness from “Heaven”
Goodbye Diary. You were my only true friend. And we’ll be friends to the end. We’re gonna burn together, diary. First in my bedroom, then in Hell.
04-23-2012, 03:14 AM
A Hero's Feat (and in this case, feet)
Like a missile shooting through the air, the discus soared across the Grecian sky, the only sounds coming from the cheering crowd. Themus smiled at his display of strength, a new personal best. He broke out in song to celebrate. Years later it would inspire the tune “Home on the Range” It went something like this:
“Home, home on the track,
Where needles are shoved through my back.
And seldom is heard
A bright chirping bird,
Cause they were killed in a brutal attack.”
Obviously Themus was not known for his wit and poetry skills.
Flash forward 36 hours and 27 minutes. It was time fot the big competition. This would decide who would bring honor and glory home and who would go home a shameful loser. Themus got ready to go against his biggest competitors. Then, out of nowhere a magical dragon, sent by the girlfriend of one of the athletes, Aphrodite, attacked the innocent bystanders.
Themus then had to make a choice. Win the competition and glory, having his name known for eternity, or save the dim witted fans no one cared about. Without a word, he made his decision. The choice was obvious.
He reached down and slowly unstrapped his shoes. “Take…this!” he yelled, holding up his stinky feet. The dragon got a good whiff and dropped dead. With a smirk, Themus picked up his discus and hurled it like nothing had happened. Needless to say, he won the games and the glory. Is there a lesson to be learned here? Not really. But a hero’s feet can be useful with a hero’s feat. BA-DUM-CRASH.
04-23-2012, 04:02 AM
The moon glistened over the small pond. Several small stars twinkled in the water. The wind covered the sound of a small Bohrok quietly sobbing.
Tahnok had been there for three hours. He'd run away from an abusive environment and into a cruel, uncaring world. One which lacked Bohrok. But for 10 years he had suffered in silence, so the uncaring world did not feel so cruel.
He was about to sob slightly louder when something moved behind him. Tahnok paused.
"Is anyone there?" he called out meekly. "Hello? Γειά σας;"
No reply. Tahnok heard a small squeak, but nothing conclusive. Slowly getting up, he inspected the ground beneath him. The way the grass was flattened, it looked like something had slipped down the small bank.
"Hello?" Tahnok asked again.
Again, he heard a small squeak. Maybe it was answering him?
Staggering down the bank, Tahnok tried to work out what the creature was amid the gloom. He couldn't quite make out what it was, but it certainly wasn't a dog. Or a cat. Or a goat.
Finally, he made it down. The creature was whimpering quietly. But it was nothing that Tahnok recognised. It was green and smooth, not furry. But it wasn't a lizard. More like a...
"A dinosaur? But they're extinct." Tahnok said aloud.
The creature continued whimpering, before spotting Tahnok. It climbed to its feet and limped over to Tahnok's side, where it collapsed once more. It certainly didn't want to hurt him. If anything, it needed help. Tahnok sat down next to it, stroking the creature's head. With a sigh, it placed its head in Tahnok's lap, then stared into his eyes.
"I guess I've discovered a new friend..." Tahnok sniffed.
04-23-2012, 07:28 AM
You would think there would be an ending. It is a book, after all, and books- even books that end in a cliffhanger, or ones that are just part of a series- have an end. They start with something- so did this- and there’s a middle part, all leading up to a place where it undoubtedly ends. This, though… this is so unsatisfying.
Truthfully, he doesn’t know what he was looking for, what he expected. He knows better than to think that life has a ribbon on it, some neat ending where everyone lives happily ever after. They don’t. He, more than anyone, knows that they don’t. This, though… well, it is just as incongruous with books and movies as her life, so in a way this ending makes sense. Still, somehow he feels cheated.
It isn’t like she knew. No one knew, no one could have predicted it. Of course she wouldn’t write some last rambling entry about how she loved everyone and wanted this pair of shoes to go to that friend and where she wanted to be… well, to be… no. He couldn’t say it. He would get there, maybe, but he wasn’t there yet. Point was, she had only seen this coming a millisecond before he had, and that was only because she had been the first to notice the headlights coming at them instead of next to them. He knew because it was the screaming, her screams, that had made him jerk the wheel over in the first place. If he hadn’t… well, it could have been both of them. It would have been. He shudders to even think about it, and usually he doesn’t. The one time he did mention it, his mother cried for two hours and his father didn’t speak for a day. Never again. He banishes the thought by reading through the last entry one more time, though it isn’t necessary. He knows it by heart. He has memorized everything, but it is the other senses that will fade the quickest. He knows how the pink feathers tickle his skin, the way her room still smells a little bit like the perfume she had begged and begged for at Christmas- and then promptly dropped at New Year’s, leaving the entire house smelling like a gummi bear in heat for almost a week. He can still hear the sound of that stupid Justin Bieber song blaring through his radio, filling the car… and he can hear the click and then the blasting hard rock for when he changed it. Her eyes had gone wide, that startlingly deep blue boring directly into his soul, and she had protested.
“You know I’m not supposed to listen to this,” she had informed him seriously. She was always the only kid that ever took her parents’ rules seriously outside of the house. Any other would welcome the opportunity to rebel a little. “Mom says it has bad stuff.” The way she says it, so grave and serious, makes him groan and reach for the radio. Justin Bieber isn’t that bad- and he’s definitely better than listening to her whine the entire drive. Plus, her gleeful shout makes it worth it… until he realizes that it’s not gleeful. Not at all. In the second- the split second, really just a nanosecond- that he is distracted, searching for the station, another car has begun to slide. It is a freak accident- an owner not being diligent enough about manufacturer recalls and vehicle maintenance- and it could have happened to anyone. Anyone in the world. It does not matter that his license is still shiny and new, nor does it matter that his car is old and squeaks when an adult sits in the front seat. She was fastened securely in her seat, and for hours that is all he can say.
The ride in the ambulance is tense- he refuses to allow anyone to touch him, swatting them away without explanation, one hand tightly clenched in her small one the entire way. “Her seat belt was buckled,” he says, the phrase long-since nonsensical. “Her seat belt was buckled,” was what he had told the cops when they had arrived, cradling her already-limp body. The doctor looks tense when the ambulance doors swing open. “Her seat belt was buckled!” She is whisked quickly into a room, away from his hands and his eyes and his heart, which breaks in the sudden absence. “But… her… seat belt…” No one will tell him anything. He is family, yes, but he is too young and not a guardian and he is slightly manic. His parents finally arrive, looking frenzied and worried, tenfold when they take in his appearance. He had never bothered to check a mirror or wipe the blood from the scrape on his forehead. “Her seat belt!” he is shouting, his face buried in his mother’s heaving chest. “Her seat belt was buckled!” That should have made all the difference- and it had. It had. The doctor explains about body sizes, about the rib cage and seat belts being in exactly the wrong place for some kids and just like that, he shatters the world. Everything stops. The doctor- no doubt having made this speech and this reference a half dozen times today- refers them to a grief counselor, who can help them make funeral arrangements. Then he is gone- he has patience to care for, people he can help. There is no longer any need for him here.
Three months mean things should be different. It should feel different than it did three days after, or three minutes after. It doesn’t. His heart still seizes painfully every time he walks by her room, and he still weeps when he crosses the threshold- though he does it less often now. He still is drawn, inexplicably, to her desk. He still reaches into the second drawer, fumbles in the back, and withdraws the ridiculous purple book with a pink feather lining. Every time, he puts it back. Why no one has touched the room, the things, he has no clue. It still feels like she might come back, like she might stomp her foot and cry and pout over people messing with her stuff. These were her treasures, things she cherished. It is unspoken, but they all know- the dresses hanging in her closet will be eaten by moths before they are removed, the falsely shiny plastic trophies will sit, coated in dust, until they are packed and moved to a different house. She will always be there. Always.
Today at school was boring. We did our spelling words, and I still can’t spell bueatiful beautiful every time. See? I’m gonna get it if I have to make Josh quiz me. He even said he’d pick me up at soccer practice ‘cause Mom and Dad are gonna go to some work party for Dad. Josh called me the little squirt again, but that’s okay. I heard one of his friends do it the other day and he yelled at him so I think he’s the only one allowed to say it cause he’s my brother or something. I’m running kinda late for practice cause Mom didn’t remember to wash my jersey so it’s drying now. I hope I get to be the goalie again today. I really like it. I hope Coach Mike lets me be it for the rest of the year. Gotta go. I’ll tell you about what Marissa said on the playground today when I get home. See ya.
04-23-2012, 09:17 AM
I am a god. Everyone is bowing down to me, and they should be. In the face of danger- of absolute and swift demise- they panicked. They went running in every direction, scattering nothing but gossip and worried looks and nervous habits resumed. No one- not a single one of them- stepped up. I did. Their suits and ties and high heels and tasteful skirts mean nothing, because underneath is probably just boxers and thongs and t-shirts and bras (and not even the lacy kind, because that one redhead keeps trying to not-so-subtly flash me her bra even when she’s not wearing anything but the ugly beige kind meant for support). I, on the other hand, practically have a unitard and a cape (which, by the way, doesn’t make any sense, because it would be impossible for Clark Kent to hide a full-length bright red cape underneath his regular old work shirt, even if he did wear a blazer every single day, because that shit is long and cumbersome and he wore tight stuff).
The fact of the matter is, when evil descended here, no one made a move to stop it. I spent a moment letting my baser instincts get the best of me- for a split second I was paralyzed by pure terror- before I sprang into action. Upon my triumphant return- after, of course, all the honor and adoration and glory had been bestowed upon me- I pulled out my phone to tweet a message to all of my followers. My loyal fans deserved to know, too.
Code red at work. Building on lockdown. The coffee pot is broken. I am told this is not a drill. Brb, being a hero.
I have discovered so many things with you;
Like the way I felt when I'd just convinced myself not to,
Like everything I did when I was with you,
Like the pain I felt when I had to move,
Back to my home, like I always knew,
I'd have to - but I think it proved
how much you felt this heartache too,
When you arrived on flight 402.
We'd planned this for so long,
I'd expected dissapointment, I discovered I was wrong,
I discovered I was incapable of writing you a song,
I'd never found it so hard in so long,
But for three months we lived together,
though it was interrupted with stormy weather,
At least we could pretend it was forever,
the short time we spent together, close and tethered,
I guess I discovered that this was more
than anything I'd ever felt before.
I discovered I needed more,
I discovered I was willing to cross shores.
So now you're leaving, but we always knew,
However I've discovered that I want to follow you,
I can do this - I can start my life new,
As long as it means I can live it with you.
04-24-2012, 12:03 AM
Neil: I love me some discovery channel goodies.
Ed: I love it too. It's some good shit.
Neil: what' you're favourite discover channel show?
Ed: Most likely mythbusters. Those guys are great, I would love that job!
Neil: I like any show that talks about the warriors of old. Like battle BC.
Ed: Naah man Mythbusters are the best man. They come up with the silliest shit and then work on that for the rest of the show. Like I remember this one myth about mirrors attacking Greek ships.
Neil: Oh yeah, Archimedes right?
Ed: How the hell should I know?
Neil: You're the one who watched the fucking episode. I'd like to think it wouldn't be unreasonable to think that you MIGHT know what the hell happened and the people involved!
Neil: How do I know you? Does anybody know?
Ed: My point! Is that they got given money to build a replica and burn a ship, they even a sunk a ship once and filled it with ping pong balls. How awesome is that?
Neil: No, the battle shows are the best.
Ed: Why? I hate that shit.
Neil: The modern battle stuff is boring but not the past battle stuff. That shit is fascinating. The one thing I can never get enough of is people of colour strutting their stuff. Shaka Zulu, Montezuma, Moses, Hannibal, Khan, Saladin! Such great people of colour fighting the...other people.
Ed: Screw you man. What other people!? It ever cross your mind that you might be too racially minded. Tell me Neil. In your eyes I'm prolly the man.
Neil: Not really..(Whisper)
Ed: Well man,, Am I oppressing you man. Am I holding your people back?
Neil: Well Ed I'm glad you asked because I've been wanting to say this. You've been my friend for a long time, years even and I really have to tell you this. PERSONAL SPACE. You stand a little too close to me man. It's ridiculous. I can feel you're breath on me man and you're not one of those out of breath wheezy bastards, you're a light breather but I can feel your breath. I swear if you were any closer you'd give me a hicky. Make it stop man, make it stop!
04-24-2012, 02:49 AM
(Kinda mature, mushy, and romantic-y...>.> I know my writing sucks, shut up. lol)
“Discovery of Alena”
Alena lay before me, her body covered in a thin film of sweat as she clutched a corner of the blanket on her bed. My eyes roamed over her slender frame, taking in her immaculacy, the perfection of a girl that would never admit she was beautiful. Her chest rose and fell with every heavy breath as my fingers slid across her silken skin, realizing why every romance novel I’d ever read was a cliche’; too many things about this kind of moment were too good not to write about, even if it had been done a thousand times already. “You are beautiful...every inch of you,” I whispered into Alena’s ear as I leaned over her. A tiny smile crept across her rose petal lips as she didn’t argue with me for once and acknowledged my affection in silence. I slid the back of my hand across her cheek, feeling the warmth of her blush and enjoying the color all at once. The discovery of someone in such an intimate way was truly a sight to behold. Like a psychological painting that could never be done justice if it were ever actually put down on a canvas and captured in a still-life. With simply a touch in the right place, I could conduct Alena’s body and its responses like an orchestra. She was poetry in motion, a song meant only to be heard by someone who truly appreciated her. As I dove into the labyrinth that was Alena, I heard her call my name softly between kisses, her fingers tangled in my hair as she said, “Tobias.” As soon as I heard her voice and felt her touch, I knew in my heart I’d made the best discovery of my life.
04-24-2012, 03:48 AM
Lilly shuffled her Mary-Jane clad feet along the sidewalk, walking home from another monotonous day at school. School is so boring, she thought to herself. She was tired of her same old, same old boring routine. Wake up. Wash her face, brush her teeth, eat a bowl of cereal with milk. Change into her uniform and catch the bus. Put up with the drama of the girls, and arrive at school. Seven torturous hours of ‘’learning’’ until Lilly got to go home to a snack and chores. Then homework, dinner, chores, maybe watch the telly if she was lucky, study and sleep. Lilly lazily walked on the path to her house. In the previously vacant house beside hers, a moving truck was in the driveway. A man and woman were loading boxes while a teenage girl gabbed on the phone. A moody looking boy about her age leaned against the truck.
“Ay you!” he calls out, “Commere.”
Lilly wanders over to the boy, curious. “Hello. My name is Lilly Waters. And you are?” she says politely.
“Marcus,” he says, “I’m bored. You wanna explore?”
“We can’t just leave,” Lilly says, wrinkling her nose.
“Why not? I’m 12. I can do what I want.” And with that, Marcus walks off. Lily sighs and jogs to catch up with him. He’s quite fast.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“I dunno,” he says, “It’s an Adventure.”
“Yeah, you know. An adventure. We wanna make a discovery.” He says. Now we’re in the woods, weaving through trees. He stops at a clearing.
“What kind of discovery?” She questions. He ignores her and looks around. She opens my mouth to speak, but he places a hand over it and points. Her eyes follow
his finger to see a baby deer walking through the clearing. They watch the deer until it disappears. The Marcus starts to leave with Lilly following.
“That’s it? We’re quitting the adventure?” she asks, disappointed.
“No.” he says, “We already found discovery today. We’ll have another tomorrow.”
04-24-2012, 03:49 AM
Whoops Double Post :P
I noticed there's no DAY 23. I think it would be funny if for Day 23 the topic was "Why Anne Bonny forgot to put up a topic." I think we could make some interesting stories XD
GREAT JOB GUYZ. KEEP GOING STRONG.
04-24-2012, 03:58 AM
Oh hell. You know, I sat down to do this and then something came up and my mind just went out the window.
But you can come up with a better story than that.
Nice one, Leoni! I like it. New topic is up. :D
Why Anne Forgot.
Perhaps it is just
That this board must
Be too light a shade
So in her eyes it faded
Perhaps we should have got
A pink board - maybe hot
Then she'd have never missed a day
Perhaps she was delayed
By a parrot or two
Or a pink cockatoo
(I had one once as a pet)
Oh, but now I'M forgetting,
I was meant to be writing 'bout why Anne forgot,
Not pets that I had once, but now I have not,
I guess forgetfulness might be contagious from that lovely lady,
Maybe that's it - an illness affecting memory!
Poor Anne, is she suffering some kind of ill
That takes your memory centre and freezes it still,
So some certain things you just don't have the will,
To hold in your head and keep them there still
But really, good friends, there's no need to complain,
For while she might be late, she always gets here some day,
Maybe we have to wait, but the new topics have been great
And our elegant Anne has so much on her plate,
04-24-2012, 09:03 AM
"So, er, Medic, why did this Anne person forget?"
Medic lifted up his glasses and peered at Spy as if to say 'shut up, you idiot, I'm thinking'. Spy simply ignored him and asked the young lady himself.
"So, why did you forget? And what exactly did you forget?" Spy sniggered slightly. Anne simply ignored him. "How rude."
"None of your business, matey." Anne sat up from the rather scary looking table. The German doctor's lab wouldn't have been so bad if someone actually turned a light on and opened the windows once in a while. "You need to let some light in here, Doctor. Or do you prefer Medic?"
"Eizher vill do..." Medic was now inspecting Anne's watch with a pair of tweezers. "Do you often come into contact vith dangerous chemicals?"
Anne blinked. Spy seemed to be leaning closer and closer to her. Glancing around, she reckoned that if Spy came too close, she could kick him in the privates and beat the shit out of him. "Er, dangerous chemicals? Like what?"
Medic fixed his glasses again. "Xenophoric materials. Tell me, have you met any... Strange beings lately? Somezhing like ein Bohrok or..."
Anne blinked again. Not only was she confused, lost and had forgotten to put up the theme for the 23rd for April's writing marathon, but she couldn't remember for the life of her where she had heard that word before. "Boooh... Rok... I really don't know..."
Spy was getting too close now. With as hard a kick as she could muster, she caught him in the privates with her shin. As Spy collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath, Anne jumped off the table and peered at what Medic was doing. He seemed to be fiddling her phone now, unsure how it worked. His fingers appeared way too large to actually operate it.
"Oh, my phone. Don't read any of my messages, okay? Or I'll kick you too!" Anne threatened.
"Ah, do not vorry. I am not interested in your messages, only in how to send you home. You see, I have seen zhis problem before. Several times. Zhe first time, zhis strange, mechanical, black creature vith green eyes entered mein freund's lab, then disappeared. Zhe second time, me and Engineer accidentally appeared in anozher world via ein teleporter. But later on, ve discovered how to fine-tune zhis interdimensional teleporting business. I am just trying to vork out vhere exactly you are fr..."
Medic paused mid sentence.
"You were saying?" Anne asked, as Spy struggled to his feet, only to fall down again.
"You... You are from zhe future... But... Hm... If my calculations are correct... You're zhe only person who can travel back to your correct time. You vould not be able to take anyzhing vith you..."
Anne suddenly interrupted. "I remember now. I spoke to someone called Elkay who said they were a Bohrok... Maybe speaking to Elkay made me forget?"
Spy suddenly switched from groaning to laughing and groaning. "Preposterous! Don't blame the writer of this story for your forgetfulness!"
Medic grinned. "And vhy not? It is full of plot holes anyway..."
Anne sighed, then walked out of the room. "Gah. I think I'll just go away now..."
Suddenly, Anne woke up. She was in her room. It was all a dream. A strange dream, but a dream none the less. Then it hit her like a punch to the face.
"Oh no! I forgot to do the marathon!"
04-24-2012, 04:50 PM
LOOK GUYZ I REMEMBERED
Day 24 is up! 22 is cah-losed!
04-24-2012, 09:41 PM
On behalf of SQJPure/Childish Gambino, Anne has given me permission to post for Pure till he gets internet back.
There is little that is lost in the mind of the wise. Much to be gained from seeing all that there is to be seen but with all things there are limits, none are without limits, no limit is reach without cause. That would be too simplistic. Imagine, reaching limit without cause, ridiculous!
The day Anne reached her limit would have seemed without cause, a most unreasonable idea if there ever was one! And yet reach her limit she did. Through the posting ungodly mutiny of the crew within the Royal Pillagers Anchorage, she'd kept her mind sharp, when the SS RPA of old was replaced for a grander vessel before much was lost in the SS RPA's second conquest of an even grander vessel her mind was still intact.
Or so the people of RPA thought....
She stood tall and high on the prow of her powerful vessel proud of how it tore through the ocean waters and then through beach sand, powered by an eternal fuel of the support of those who enjoy being on the vessel.
All seemed well, her eyes were bright and happy, her smile wide and gorgeous. The vessel ploughed through the sand and through gravel and tar, turning homes into splinters as the vessel passed right through neighbourhood after neighbourhood until she reached her own.
The vessel dropped anchor, ploughing right the home of people who'd once passed on the offer to join the vessel to take part in the Gaia vessel. There was a following explosion, that rocked the vessel.
It was a good sound.
Spammers crushed, forums pillaged and new members were taken. It had been a very good day. Perhaps that was the reason why she forgot. New members taken, new bonds forged, more power added to the ship, efforts piled upon each other.
All of these were reason enough for her to forget. Though in the end, it mattered nothing as to the reason behind it why she forgot. What mattered, what was, was that she'd forgotten.
And as her jaw dropped in awe of her own foolishness, her eyes dilated to take in more of the horror and her breath escaped her lips, adding fuel to the burning embers.
She'd forgotten. She'd never before. Who could say they had? Who could have known the worst case scenario of forgetting to turn off the stove.
She jumped from the prow, ignoring the distance of the fall, simply because she could. Simply because she was that awesome and dropped to her knees, her silk attire and exposed flesh burning the embers instead of the other way around off the charcoal blocks that were once her home.
From behind a whistle beckoned and slowly she turned, wiping a tear away where it dried in the heat, along with the cure for cancer, it was Meredith Grey, otherwise known as Merry G grinning from adorable ear to ear.
"You'd needed on deck!"
Anne smiled. This was no more her home that a bird cage was a home for a budgie or a bald eagle, or a regular eagle who'd had a very close shave with a helicopter propeller. Her home was on the vessel which had friends, family and space for animals and a grill for those same animals.
Who cared why she forgot, why did it matter. There was no curse to be had here only blessings and she wasn't about to let them go by without being embraces.
April 24th A day in the life of a worm - Pure's submission
Neil: I get the feeling that you're upset.
Ed: Oh really you get the feeling?
Neil: Oh, come on. It seemed like a good time to tell you.
Ed: Can we just forget it?
Neil: Well alright. What are we doing anyway?
Ed: Nothing. Well alright just seemed like a good time to, I don’t know, play playstation or something.
Neil: You know what's a kickass game? Earthworm Jim. I loved that game. That's the most incredibly sweet game on the planet. It was simply amazing. Perhaps the greatest game of all time.
Ed: No ways man, the first commando's was the bomb. Shooting Germans!
Neil: You mean Nazi's.
Ed: Well, them too.
Neil: There's something horribly wrong with you.
Ed: Screw you man. Any way earthworm Jim was honestly the shit. It's a game I honestly think about playing pretty often. If I were an earth worm, I'd be earthworm Jim.
Neil: What were you supposed to be doing in earthworm Jim?
Ed: I can't remember. But it was amazing, remember it could be fun and friendly and then sometimes it would take a severe turn into a much darker underworld type game. I wonder if real worms have to deal with that shit.
Neil: You're kidding right? Like real worms dug down to fiery underworlds where they move through boss battle to do, something that we both forgot.
Ed: Well, I'm assuming there was a girl involved and you'd go through some shit for some....virgina.
Neil: why yes there is little I wouldn't do for some pussycat dolls.
Ed: And where do you find earth worms I ask?
Neil: Not sure, I want to say earth...
Ed: The soil of course. The most holy of holies.
Neil: So, just so I understand this, are we of the agreement that each day earth worms dig down into fiery underworlds for sex?
Ed: And shooting Germans.
Neil: You freak me out!
If I'm not allowed to post two entries in one post, just let me know and I'll fix it ^_^
04-25-2012, 02:29 AM
"Why Anne Forgot"
Anne Bonny forgot. She forgot to put up a few days’ topics because her life is just too epic for us to comprehend. With a life as busy as hers, who WOULD have time to run a contest as grand as the Writer’s Marathon? I mean, she gets up every morning and has a bowl of Chinese fireworks for breakfast and then surfs to Japan and back to get her fresh green tea for the morning, then reads the newspaper while riding a roller coaster to wake herself up. Then she goes to work where she wrestles talking alligators for a living at the zoo. And these aren’t just ANY talking alligators...they’re a bad ass biker gang of alligators called “Hell’s Algae”. When she’s done wrestling the alligators, she has to fence her way out of the establishment, gun fights with the security guard and flies to the moon where she takes her thirty minute break. She tries to get the topic up in her free time on the moon, but is always interrupted with something. Yesterday it was a phone call about how one of the alligators got loose. And he had rabies. She got permission to kill him on sight and flew down to earth to hunt the holy terror that the townspeople feared. When she found the creature, Anne curb-stomped him so hard, she turned him into a purse and she walked away from her job looking fashionable as she came home and went straight to bed, sleeping upside down in her iron maiden, surrounded by spikes. ANNE’S A BAD ASS. It’s okay if she forgets a topic every now and then.
04-25-2012, 03:49 AM
Day 23- Why Anne forgot
Anne was feeding her beloved birds, humming to herself, causing more birds to gather round. Anne loved birds. She loves all kinds of birds. She decided she was going to spend the whole day with birds today. She glanced at her To-Do List before heading out. The Writer’s Marathon! She needed to think of a new topic. She thought to herself. A brilliant idea popped into her head. This was the best topic yet. People would surely get a kick out of and everyone would have fun writing it. Anne was about to put down this genius topic when the phone rang. She went to get it, but when she picked up, no one was there. It was probably her secret admirer who would call several times a day, just to hear Anne’s voice. Anne shook her head and went back to her computer. She logged into RPA when she saw that her friend Merry had posted on her wall. She checked it out and it was the best, most cool, bird video Anne had ever seen. She had to share this greatness. She opened up her Facebook, Twitter, and E-mail and told all her contacts about the video. Satisfied, she was about to close the windows when she remembered! The topic! She clicked on The Writer’s Marathon when she noticed she had another notification. This time from Edynol. It was just Spam, so she rolled her eyes. Her birds started chirping and she looked outside. She decided it was the perfect day to spend with birds. She turned off her computer and went to the Bird Park where all the birds flocked to her like bees to honey and named her the bird Queen.
04-25-2012, 04:58 AM
"A day in the life of a worm..." Frooom tutted loudly as he threw the book away. "Funking hell, they don't know the half of it. They ain't got a clue!"
Pencil nodded in agreement. "Yep. No idea. It's like they've gone and taken a shovel of dirt and just glanced at it briefly, not bothering to get all the way to our underground caverns. They have NO IDEA how we live our lives..." Pencil's eyes swivelled around. "Hey, Steve?, pass me the health please."
"Get it yourself!" Steve? answered bluntly. No one was quite sure why he had a question mark at the end of his name.
Chaosy grunted and threw the pack over. "Steve?, don't be a bloody human. Be nice."
Pencil laughed. "Hah, that's good. Those humans, such morons..."
Steve? hissed. "Humans are bad? We live in groups of 1-8, blowing the shit out of each other. We have more weapons in our pockets than humans have hairs on their big bulbous things."
"You mean their heads? Humans have heads too. It's tails they don't have..." Frooom interrupted.
"Whatever. We have bazookas, uzis, shotguns, miniguns, bows and arrows, sniper rifles, grenades, homing missiles, sheep and banana bombs, just to mention a few, in our pockets. That's not natural." Steve? seemed angry.
"Something's got up Steve?'s cloaca..." Pencil sniggered.
"Shut it!" Steve? growled.
"Steve?'s right..." Chaosy sniffed. "We just spend our time killing each other. That's really kinda dumb."
Froom tapped his non-existent chin. "Hm, true, but instead of dying, all the bits of us just become more worms..."
"Oh yeah... Forgot about that. Been a while since I last got blown up..." Steve? admitted.
"Plus!" Pencil butted in. "It's a billion times easier to make a tunnel with a bazooka than it is to dig it."
04-25-2012, 07:31 PM
Day 25 is up! Day 23 will remain open til tomorrow morning.
I'll update who's done what in a bit. :)
04-26-2012, 12:04 AM
“A Continuation of the Story of the Worm”
Interviewer: So what is it like being a worm? What are some advantages and disadvantages, sir, can you tell me?
Grandpa Worm: Well, aside from the wars we wage upon the rain every time we are attacked by its drops, the life of a worm is still hard, but we have fun. I mean, it’s not as bad as being a cockroach...or an ant, but people still regard us as “gross” and “slimy” even though we aren’t. And we often get used for bait. So that stinks. But uh...other than that it’s been a good life. From what I can remember, anyway. -Laughs-
Interviewer: And the advantages?
Grandpa Worm: Oh. Uh...well, I s’spose that depends on who ya are and whatcha do as a worm. I mean, I’ve made a good life just helping my fellow comrades in the battle against nature and living to tell the village children stories of the humans.
Interviewer: What is the typical view of a human from a worm’s perspective?
Grandpa Worm: Sometimes they’re nice to us, most of the time they’re not. It’s best just to avoid them all together. Especially the tiny humans. They’re too rough to know how to handle worms most of the time. We do our best to stay away from them. -Shudders-
Interviewer: I’m a human. What do you think of me?
Grandpa Worm: You seem to be a decent man. I’d trust ya.
Interviewer: -Laughs- Hahaha, remind me not to pick you up next time I go fishing!
04-26-2012, 12:30 AM
OMG YOU GUISE...
FIVE. MORE. DAYS! : D
:mustache: Let us finish like sirs. -monocle-
They say I'm a worm. Worthless. Slimy. Disgusting. Wriggling my way through life blindly, and certainly I can see the similarity. I'm always shoved face first into the mud. I struggle through the dirt, just trying to find some sweet nutrients to keep me going, some kind of sustenance.
Then just when I think I'm starting to get good at this, wriggling around in the dark, something strikes me, knocks the air out of me, slices me through the middle. And the two halves of myself still wriggle around blindly.
Trying to rejoin each other? No. It seems, once I'm separated, I stay that way.
I don't know what I'm good for. I think thats' the worst part. They say worms fertilise the soil, make it rich and healthy, just by passing through. Do I do that too? Do I make the world a better place, as I go through it? Actively bringing something to the situation?
Or is it just by comparison I make other people feel better, brighter. Well, I might not always be a good person, but at least I'm not a worm like her. Is that what they're thinking, when they look at me?
A day in the life of a worm. But I don't do much. So what do I really change?
Maybe I'm the one that needs a change. A caterpillar gets to become a butterfly, once it's done with wriggling and crawling, it gets to fly!
So when do I get my wings?
04-26-2012, 04:27 AM
A Day in the life of a Worm.
Weston Wiggleton Worm, wiggled his way out of his warm worm-hole. It was a dandy, yet dangerous day today, since the dirt was damp. Weston slithered like a snake, only more slimy, so it was kinda a slide, out into the sunshine. He nibbled on some nutritious dirt nervously. The bad birds had been boasting ‘bout their banishing of worms by gobbling them up. Some worms scoffed at such silly speculations. Others worried over what would be waged if they didn’t comply. Weston was a worrier. He saw the sky was safe and sound. No birds being bad. Weston spotted his sexy snail friend, Sally. He longed lustfully and looked at her and laughed.
“S’up my soulmate?” she said.
“Hey. How’s it hanging?” he asked happily having same time she had causing an awkward hiatus.
“So,” she said slowly, “Seen any feathered slime?”
“Barely,” he breezed, “The Birds beat it and the skies be blue.”
“Sweet,” she smiled, “I’ll see you soon, ‘ston.”
Weston went to the well for water. He lapped up the limey liquid, lazily. The well had weird water. Weston then rolled ‘round the rougher parts. He witnessed a wrongdoing of wormskind. Quickly and quietly he left. Silence supposedly should settle for now. Slithering into his shack, he said ‘shoot!’ Weston is a brilliant bookworm. Everyday excites him getting every kind of book. But today he had totally turned off the light of the table where he kept his tablet reminding him to return a book. He looked at the dim-lit little library corner he had. He brought out a book on alliteration. Smiling, he sunk into a seat and read.
04-26-2012, 04:28 AM
What caused the blue tornado?
"We report to you today from the sunny island of Cyprus where a strange phenomenon has occurred. For the last three hours, a small, blue waterspout has travelled to land, causing havoc over the small city of Paphos. While there have been no casualties, Civil Defence warns civilians to remain calm and to stay away from damaged buildings. We turn now to Anthia Tromou, who's on the scene. Anthia?"
"Hello! Well, as you can see behind me, there is indeed a blue tornado slowly travelling up the coast. It started off near Limassol but has made its way down to Paphos. Although we're quite far away from the tornado, the winds are bitterly cold and incredibly strong, strong enough to blow the roofing off a house. Many homes have reported that their water tanks and solar heaters have been blown off, and most of the hotels have brought all their furniture inside to save them from being blown away! No one's quite sure what caused this, but many people blame the British army bases, who have been known to do strange experiments on the island."
"Thank you, Anthia. There have been numerous reports that the British base of Akrotiri has been devastated by the tornado, fuelling speculation of an experiment gone horribly wrong. Eyewitness accounts say that small, strange beings could be seen attacking the base. The-*Kzzzzt*"
Kutrak turned the TV off and stared at his brothers.
"Looks like you were on TV..." Lehvak grinned, before Kutrak bashed him on the head.
Nuhvok's head dropped. "Sorry, but..."
"But what?" Kutrak snapped.
"But they were trying to dig into our nest... What else could I have done?"
Kutrak rolled his eyes. "You could have at least been a bit more quiet about it..."
04-26-2012, 04:10 PM
And now we shoooooooooooooooooooould be all caught up!
Strong finish! Strong finish! I'll start dealing out awards this weekend OH MY GOODNESS!
What Caused the Blue Tornado.
In my stomach, since you left,
there is a whirlwind; blue.
It makes me ache, leaves me bereft,
every time I think of you.
It's so much worse, when someone leaves,
And you know that they don't want to go.
This is the first time I've thought 'please,
don't let me be swept up in this Blue Tornado!'
Of course I mean that metaphorically,
This tempest in the bottom of my tummy,
But it's getting a little stronger daily,
swirling into the new cavity,
Where my heart used to go,
Before I gave it to you to take
With you when you went home,
And now my bodies threatening to break,
Under the strain of these blue winds,
Tumbling and tossing my emotions,
The pressure building within,
Seems to span the distance of the oceans
That separate us for now,
But skies will be calm one again,
Once I get there, I will do it somehow,
Now I think of it, probably a plane.
And hopefully this blue tornado will not follow me,
Coz of turbulence I've never been fond,
Seems to set me clawing the edges of my seat,
But it's worth it for what's waiting beyond.
This blue destruction cannot break me,
And when winds gets so high that I can barely breathe,
I just remind myself you're out there waiting,
And that you never wanted to leave,
And when I let my mind go that direction,
I start to worry more for you, you know,
Coz if I can take anything from your affection,
You're probably also suffering from this blue tornado.
04-27-2012, 02:43 AM
I can feel them- there are 32 eyes, all glued to me. They love it when this happens, when something out of the ordinary just pops up without explanation. Today, it is me- their teacher- marching into the classroom on a perfectly sunny day, decked out in a rubbery yellow hat and rain coat, plus bright blue wellington boots. Every single part of my body squeaks as I walk in, proudly wearing my silly clothes and a roll of duct tape as a bracelet. In my arms are two clear plastic soda bottles, one full of water. On the table I walk to is already a tiny yellow and red box; I set the bottles and the duct tape down to join it.
“I need two volunteers,” I announce, and sixteen hands shoot directly into the air. I put my finger on my lip and peer out at them, pretending to consider this as if it is a very important question. “Toby,” I say, finally, pointing. A towheaded boy scrambles up to join me in front of the chalkboard, cheeks turning pink with excitement. “Annnnnnnd… Nina.” Next up is an impossibly tiny brunette, a girl that spoke very little English when she started school this year but now- thanks to my broken Spanish and her extreme effort- chatters away easily with the rest of the class. I grab two signs from my desk- they are signs the children are familiar with, we use them on a regular basis. One is red and orange and yellow, with drawn-on flames. On it are large construction paper letters so that it spells “H-O-T”. The other is all blue, and this one has “C-O-L-D” glued on in what looks like icicles- but is really just light blue construction paper cut into jagged points and glued on to make words. I hang the first sign over Nina’s neck, the red string tied to it holding it up. The second goes to Toby.
“So,” I ask, “who here has ever seen a tornado?” A few eager hands shoot into the air, but not many- which is not altogether surprising, because we are not exactly in Tornado Alley. “Okay, well, here’s the good news, class. Next time I ask that question, I am going to see everybody’s hand in the air!” One of the little girls that had raised her hand the first time looks mortified and claps a hand over her mouth. I laugh. “Don’t worry, Rachel. It’s going to be a really tiny one.” As I speak, I withdraw a tiny dropper from the box on the table, adding one-two-three drops of blue dye into the bottle that has water in it. Though they have seen this many times, each of my kindergarteners still watches closely as the dye drops in the liquid, tendrils of colored water spanning out like branches as it goes. I cap the bottle and shake it, turning the water a bright and distinctive blue color. “And,” I add, as I uncap the bottle, “it’s going to be blue!” A few kids clap- we have a rule that if I say your favorite color in class, you are allowed two claps- and I pause to let them.
“Does anybody know what causes a tornado?” I ask, inverting the second- empty- bottle so that its mouth lines up with the first one. I glance up before I add the duct tape, and see no hands raised. Seeing none, I raise my own. “I know!” Lowering my hand and using it to wrap the duct tape around the mouth of the bottles, I continue. “Sometimes, it’s cold in one place and hot in another place. This means that the air is two different temperatures.” As I say cold, the kids point to Toby. Hot gets the same reaction, but with Nina. Each child raises their hand in turn. “Okay,” I say, “so this is where I need my helpers!” At this point, I raise my now-finished project. “Toby, you’re the cold air. I want you to blow in that direction,” I tell him, pointing at Nina. He does, and I shift the bottle towards her, as if it is caught in Toby’s breath. “Oh, no!” I say, over exaggerating the force of his breath. Children giggle. “Okay, Toby, that’s good. When I tell you to go, I want you to do that again, okay?” He nods and stops blowing. I return the bottle to the middle of the table, to right between the two children. “And Nina, you’re the hot air. Can you blow the bottle, just like Toby?” She does, but her breath is in Toby’s direction. Again, I act as though she is a storm and I am caught in it, moving the bottle and putting my hand on my hat for effect. “Perfect!” I cheer. “Okay, so I want you to do that, too, when I say go!” Nina nods.
“Now, sometimes, class, there’s hot wind that blows over the cold air and pushes it out of the way, and it gets hot all over. And sometimes the same thing happens, but with cold air- it pushes the warm air out of the way, so things get really cold. But sometimes… sometimes, both winds blow at the same time! What happens then?” One voice rings out the answer- a tornado- and I peer at him, pretending to be bitter. “Hey! Elliot! Who raised their hand?” No one had. “Nobody. And that means Miss Ellis gets to talk.” Giving the boy a gently scolding look and deciding that he looks properly chided, I go on. “He’s right, though. It’s a tornado! Okay, hot and cold winds! Both of you, together, now… blow!” On cue, the children blow, as hard as they can, towards each other. I make a big show of letting the bottles drift a little to the left, and then a little to the right, until finally I invert them so that the water is on top. Shaking them gently, I cause a vortex in the falling water- which stuns my hot air so much that she forgets to keep blowing just to watch it, and I can hear a couple of kids oohing and ahhing. I grin. Perfect. “Thanks, guys, you can put the signs back on my desk and go back to your seats,” I tell my helpers when the bottle is empty. “And grab some gold stars for being such good wind!” Applause breaks out, and I take a moment to let the two children shine in the spotlight and bask in the sound of tiny hands colliding with one another before I raise my hand to quiet the class. Nina and Toby go to add the gold star stickers to their names on the bulletin board and I upturn the bottles once again, making the tornado for the class to watch. I do this a few more times until the two students are both back at their tables and seated, and I add one more repeat so they can watch it.
“Okay,” I say, finally, setting down my bottles. “Go ahead and get out your science books, and turn to page forty-seven.” I write the number on the board in big numbers and circle it. “It’s a green” pause for claps “page.” During the flurry of activity, I shed my rain coat and hat, hanging them neatly on the hook by the blackboard- next to a fireman’s jacket and hat and a hat covered in leaves plus a long tube of brown fabric painted to look like a trunk. Next week, a pair of pajamas will join them in honor of our read-in- the kids get to bring in sleeping bags and pillows and I’ll put out bean bag chairs and supply sleepover-type snacks, and we get to read all day. In the meantime, though, I settle at my desk and, as the kids flip pages, I wiggle out of my Wellingtons to slip on the ballet flats I keep under my desk. Much better. “Who wants to read first?” I look around the room and make note of the hands raised, before finally calling on a child. “Okay, Jenny! You’re up! Tell us more about what caused the blue tornado!”
04-27-2012, 03:19 AM
Childish Gambino's submissions:
They should be rated M =p
Ed: What the hell is a blue tornado?
Neil: I don’t know. A tornado suffering from depression.
Ed: As completely senseless that idea is....Meh, why not.
Ed: Well, it's just you ever notice how many people are hit with the depression diagnosis. We're an insanely sad planet man. Either that or shrinks are completely full of shit.
Neil: Don't go on that scientology tip. I don’t think I could handle that.
Ed: I'm not a scientologist. But that's not the point. We were talking about blue tornados. Sounds like a cocktail.
Neil: Naaah not sexual enough. If you could add an element sex then totally, it would be an awesome sounding cocktail.
Ed: Maybe it's a dance.
Neil: Yeah, like a swirling vortex of moves that pulls everyone in deep and throws everyone around leaving a trail of destruction.
Ed: Hey that could work. The new dance the blue tornado.
Neil: Assuming we still name dance moves now a days. Only rappers name dance moves now a days. Which always seems ironic. The people of the olden days you to name and set up their dances old white Victorians types now it's young African American rappers rocking it out. From the waltz to the "Bitch I"M WILD DO THE STANKY LEG! DO THE STANKY LEG!
Stanley: I love the waltz.
Neil: Who the fuck are you!
Ed: Holy shit!
Neil: Hey how'd you get into my house!
*Stanley whips out gun*
Stanley: Hands up!
Stanley: No body move! Nobody say a word! I will blow your brains out! Nobody make a sound and nobody make a single sudden move, the only reason I'm allowing breathing is because dead bodies don't know safe combinations! Now freeze!
Ed: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! !!!
*Screams, throwing his hands into the air, jumping up and down, flipping his arms and legs in all directions.*
Stanley: What the hell is happening to him!
Neil: I don’t know is he being electrocuted?
Stanley: I don’t know, look at the way he's gyrating, that's much bigger than an electrocution.
Neil: Holy crap, it's insane. I literally can't take my eyes off of him.
Stanley: I know! I know! It's like he's having a fit. But an extreme one. He's the definition of an exclamation point. I mean you couldn't imagine not adding caps lock when describing what he's doing.
*Ed jumps up and tackles gun away and jumps up.*
Neil: What the hell were you doing?!
Ed: The blue tornado.
Neil: Look at these people. All of the willing and capable of taking your seat away from you before you sit down.
Ed: I hate how awkward a bus stop crowd can be. It there's like ten people and no one knows each other.
Neil: Good point, it's so awkward that there's never actually a rush is there. Everyone just 'assumes the position' without much said. So completely awkward I can barely stand it.
Ed: The people of the bus are awkward looking bunch too.
Neil: I don’t know if buses have a 'supposed to look like' group but I can't help but think that people who climb on buses, especially in the afternoon never look like they're supposed to be taking the bus.
Ed: I guess the look would be, ' I can't afford a bloody car!'
Neil: by Armani!
Neil: check that one out. In a fur coat. At a bus stop.
Ed: It's like gd came down and said. Car or expensive coat.
Neil: And she picked the fucking coat.
Ed: If that were more vein we'd call them varicose.
Neil: cheesy, very cheesy son.
Ed: Ha! *Punches shoulder*
Neil: you ever wonder where everyone is going to sit on the bus just by looking at them?
Ed: Yeah you absolutely can.
Neil: Look at the way the chick nearest to us look, She's sp up tight if she ate the black parts of burned chicken, she'd shit out diamond dust.
Ed: She's definitely will be at the front. Assuming she sits down. Her ass is so uptight that if she stood up she's prolly take some of the leather with her.
Neil: What about those two.
Ed: The stoner brothers? Well look at them way too casual they aren't even looking at the bus they're most likely extreme regulars. They'll prolly start walking without looking and march right to the back of the bus.
Neil: Good thing busses don’t have smoke detectors.
Ed: What about Quasimodo's wife over there?
Fran: We can all hear you guys. You aren't disembodied voices! But if you keep talking shit about us. I'll be sure to shove you between my 'uptight' ass cheeks and break your limbs off!
04-27-2012, 04:27 AM
“What Made The Blue Tornado”
Shiloh walked along side Graverobber. She was accompanying him on one of his runs. There was an underground club south of town where people gathered and did “shady things”, as Graverobber had described it. He was taking Shiloh with him to demonstrate the kinds of things that came along with his occupation and what “Z” could be used for other than surgery. As they walked along the old underground subway tracks that hadn’t been used in a little over a decade, they came upon a gate and two men guarding it. Music with a heavy bass and an industrial sort of sound pumped from behind the obvious bouncers of the “club”. Shiloh stayed behind Graverobber and shivered at the sight of the intimidating men. “Uh...are you sure you know what you’re doing?,” she whispered to her mentor. Graverobber answered through a smile, “Of course I do.” All he had to do was flash his z-gun and they let him through, unlocking the padlock on the gates to let Graverobber in, but stepping in front of Shiloh as she neared the entrance. Graverobber turned and chuckled, “Oh, boys, it’s fine...she’s with me.” And they let Shiloh trail nervously after the man as he waltzed into the club, casually nodding here and there at his customers and fellow dealers. He put an arm around Shiloh to stop her from walking as he pointed toward the bar at one of the patron’s drinks. It was a glowing blue drink that looked much like zydrate. “You know what that is?,” he asked. The girl shrugged. “Uhm...the drug?” Graverobber held out his hand flatly, palm facing the floor as he tipped it back and forth accompanying it with the saying, “Ehh. Sort of. It’s called a Blue Tornado. It is zydrate and alcohol mixed together. People ingest it orally as a beverage rather than shooting up. It creates a psychedelic effect. And you’re less likely to get addicted to it taking zydrate that way instead.” Shiloh furrowed her brows. “I thought Z was dangerous to take that way.” Graverobber laughed, “Well, when it’s mixed with the right alcohol, it’s not. It may be fatal to imagination, but nothing else. Unless you happen to be an alcoholic.”
04-27-2012, 04:57 AM
Scout tutted loudly. He still couldn't believe he had to get the bus to Teufort. He still couldn't believe...
"I still do not believe that you flipped my car in one of your joyrides..." Spy almost growled every time he spoke to Scout. It was a nice car as well. One of those generic fast cars. But Spy had done up the inside with a fluffy pink dashboard, a pink steering wheel cover and flurry dice. Oh and the shag carpet. Spy loved his car almost as much as the women he often invited inside it.
Scout snickered, but Spy gave him a look of death.
"So, er..." Scout tried to change the subject as rain started to trickle down. They retreated into the tiny shelter. "Er, why isn't Engineer driving us down? He's got a truck!"
"And Medic owns a fleet of ambulances, but he said no, we need to learn not to joyride in other people's vehicles and to not try to kill said people if they wreck said vehicles."
The woman next to Spy clutched her handbag slightly tighter. Spy hadn't noticed her until now. Finally an excuse to stop listening to Scout.
"Bonjour, madame. How are we today?"
The woman ignored him. This annoyed Spy even more.
"She's way outta your league!" Scout boasted.
"Ahem..." Spy glanced at the woman. "Excuse me, mon petite ami, my acquaintance here is an idiot."
"AM NOT!" Scout shouted, reaching for the bat in his bag.
"Yes, Scout, you are. Now, watch as..."
They paused. The bus had arrived. The woman snorted then climbed on, along with everyone else. The bus then quickly shut its doors and drove off, leaving Scout and Spy behind.
04-27-2012, 12:28 PM
What Caused The Blue Tornado Little Suzie Schmikkenhoffen happily walked through the fair humming random tunes of Madonna. She held onto her older brother Garry Schmikkenhoffen’s hand.
“Would you stop singing?” he said, annoyed.
“Come on vogue…” Suzie Schmikkenhoffen sang even louder.
“If I get you some cotton candy, will you hush up?” he said, desperate for his sister to stop singing.
“Yay!” she squealed. She immediately ran to the cotton candy cart.
“Hello , little girl,” the cotton candy vendor said, a gleam in his eye, “Would you like to our special? It’s called the blue tornado.”
“Ooooh, the blue tornado! I want-“ Little Suzie started to say.
“What is it?” Garry Schmikkenhoffen said sharply. Blue tornado sounded like some kind of drug.
“It’s a mountain of blue cotton that resembles a blue tornado,” the man explained.
“What causes it to be blue? Blueberries?” Garry questioned.
“It’s a secret,” the man said, laughing nervously.
“I want it,” Little Suzie said.
“No, it’s probably dangerous,” Garry said sternly.
“I WANT IT ALL,” Suzie screeched, “I MUST CONFESS, MY LACK IS COTTON CANDY IS KILLING ME NOOOOOW. WHERE DID YOU COME FROM, WHERE DID YOU GO, WHERE DID COME BLUE TORNADO?!”
“STOP! Anything but Cotton Eyed Joe and Hit Me Baby One More Time,” Garry said, covering his ears, “Fine! We’ll take two blue tornadoes.”
Then suddenly, a wild blue devil appeared, swirling around. Around him was a mist that caused something looking like a blue tornado. The cotton candy man stuck his cotton candy stick into the mist, gathering up a blue cotton candy mass.
“Um….no thanks,” Garry said nervously, but Suzie snatched it up. When she ate it, she turned into a blue devil. The cotton candy man laughed and disappeared.
04-28-2012, 02:04 AM
“The People At The Bus Stop”
It’s always odd to me that people care so much about what complete strangers think of them because it’s human nature to be judgmental and whether a person knows the person they’re judging personally or not doesn’t matter. People are always going to talk about you, whether it’s negatively, positively, or otherwise. Since I realized that, it has become of little importance to me to impress complete strangers in everyday life. However, I do want to be the kind of person that people would find pleasant, which gives me motivation to be courteous and to respect others. I can do that and still be myself because it’s apart of who I am. For instance, at my job working at a fast food restaurant, I love making complete strangers smile. Sometimes all I have to do in order to make that happen is to smile at them first. Other times, it takes a little work, like greeting them with, “Welcome, to the King of Burgers!” in a medieval style. People seem to think that rather entertaining so far. But, who knows? There’s probably someone who thinks it’s odd, but it doesn’t get me all hung up thinking about that. I think of it this way; life is a station and we’re all just people at the bus stop. I don’t care what all those people at the bus stop think of me, even though it’s winter and I’m still wearing flip flops and drinking lemonade. What matters is that we’re all getting on the bus or buses that will take us to our different paths in life and even though we seem to have nothing in common, we’re all ultimately on the same path anyway; the one leading toward love, pain, and death. Humanity has a lot in common, though we try very much to be different. My advice to anyone is to just be themselves and have fun doing so, and to respect that others should have the right to do the same. It doesn’t matter what people think of you. They’re all just people at the bus stop anyway, waiting to love. Waiting to cry. Waiting to die. And, I guess when you think of it that way...it just seems easier to smile at the things no one else may think is worth smiling for.
04-28-2012, 04:02 AM
I have to say, the theme for day 27 is my very favorite.
Who's having fun? Who's having THE MOST FUN?
04-28-2012, 04:50 AM
Oh come on Anne, no one can possibly fire a Nazgul quite like you. It's the dreamiest.
04-28-2012, 05:34 AM
Day 27- The People At The Bus Stop
Eva briskly walked down First and Third Avenue, rushing to catch the bus. Since her car was in the shop, getting a nice new coat of paint, she was forced to a more ecofriendly, but less glamorous fate; taking the bus. Her heels went click-clack as she arrived at the bus stop. She checked her watch. 3:58 PM. The bus was supposed to arrive at 4 o’ clock, sharp. She sighed impatiently and addressed a man on his blackberry, also waiting for the bus.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, her tone professional, “Do you know if the bus is usually directly on time?”
The man wore a business suit, a cowboy hat and a lazy smile. He spoke in a deep Southern drawl, “I don’t know darlin’. You see, I’m visiting from the great ole state of Texas. And it’s real important that I get to my meeting on time. Got some important business to do. I’m trying to sell this special leather underwear.”
“That’s nice,” Eve said in a bored way that signaled that she did not want to continue the conversation. Eva glanced at him once before turning away. She had no desire to hear about the frivolous affairs of Texas men and their strange underwear. She looked at her watch again. 4:02. Where was the bus? A very pregnant woman hobbled up to the bus stop.
“Is this the bus to Yono Street?” she asked politely. The woman was soft-spoken and had kindness in her eyes.
“Yes,” Eva said, still all business. She tried being a little more friendly, “How far along are you?”
The lady looked at Eva with a blank expression, “How far along am I with what?”
“Er- nevermind,” Eva said, looking down at her cell phone as a distractor. She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up. Standing in front of her was a woman with
long blonde dreads, a flowing tie-dye shirt and skirt, many necklaces and bracelets on her and a...off smile on her face.
“Hello, my sister,” the hippie said, “It is lovely to see you.” The hippie threw her arms around Eve, causing Eve to stiffen and step back.
“May I help you?” she said curtly. She did not like being touched by random strangers.
“Care to give a sister a few dollars?” the hippie asked, hopefully. Eva snorted. She hated charity cases. She was just about to go on a rant when the bus pulled up.
“Finally,” she muttered to herself, “Only 10 minutes late.” She turned to the hippie and shrugged. “Bus fare. You know how it is. Bye ‘sister’.” With that, Eva boarded the bus, choosing a seat away from everyone else. Gee, she thought to herself, the people at the bus stop….
04-28-2012, 07:11 AM
Nuhvok charged into the room, throwing the doors open with his gravity-controlling powers, before starting a giant rant aimed at Lehvak.
"WHAT IN THE BAHRAG'S NAME ARE YOU DOING?"
Lehvak stared at the large, black cylinder then glanced towards Nuhvok. Oh boy, he was A-A-Angry. Angry as in so angry, Lehvak could feel him wrapping his hands around Lehvak.
"Well, if you'd stop trying to kill me for a second..." Lehvak tutted. "I'll explain..."
Nuhvok growled and released his grip on Lehvak's neck, before pointing at the large device. "How. The. Hell. Do. You. Explain. This?"
Lehvak smiled. "Simple really. You know that website I visit?"
"The dirty one?" Nuhvok asked.
"No. Not that one. That was an accident. The roleplaying one." Lehvak frowned.
"OH... That RPA one! Yeah, what about it?"
"Wellllll..." Lehvak was taking as much time as possible on purpose, just to piss Nuhvok off even more. "Well, they're having a writing marathon. Write a piece of random nonsense based on a daily theme, every day for a month. The whole of April."
"What on Threa has that got to do with all this?"
"The subject for the 28th is this: The Best Method for Firing a Nazgul..."
Nuhvok blinked. "Huh?"
"Seriously. Go to the site and have a look for yourself." Lehvak smiled, before lighting what looked like a fuse. "As I read it, I thought to myself, what IS the best method for firing a Nazgul?"
The fuse started to get smaller and smaller.
"After much thought, I decided to kidnap Nazgul and do some experiments. Turns out the best way to fire a Nazgul is to fire him out of a cannon."
Smoke started to emit from the cannon. Inside, something started shouting.
"So, basically, you kidnapped this Nazgul person JUST to fire them out of a cannon?" Nuhvok asked, as the cannon exploded, sending Nazgul flying off into the distance.
Lehvak nodded. "But don't worry, there's a safety net at the end..."
04-28-2012, 08:05 PM
Day 28 is up!
I'll close out 26 and get everything updated soon!
04-29-2012, 03:28 AM
“A Guide To Ruling Middle Earth”
Chapter Eight “How to Fire a Nazgul”
“Break It To Him Gently”
If your reasoning for having to fire a Dark Rider is because of a downturn in economics or a simply an overload of currently employed Nazgul, one way to let one of your best employees go is to break it to them gently. Buy him some nice flowers, take him to dinner at a crowded restaurant so that they won’t make a scene and sit them down for a talk after you’ve both finished eating. When you break out the news, you might want to follow it with, “It’s not you, it’s me. We had a good run.” This will prevent the Nazgul from shrieking or over-reacting.
“Conduct a Surprise Drug Test”
If you’re looking for a way to fire one of your Dark Riders without making it a personal ordeal or seeming like “the bad guy” (even though you are), then another way to get rid of some employees “fairly” is to have a surprise drug test requiring all Nazgul employees to participate. There’s always a chance that at least one of the tests will turn out positive if one of the Nazgul have been smoking “Dragon Hay” or eating the “special” mushrooms most Hobbits grow in the very backs of their gardens. If all the tests turn out negative, lie to them and tell them one turned out positive anyway and you’re golden. The Nazgul walks away from his job, and you don’t get any flak for it. Piece of cake.
If you’re firing a Nazgul for being a poor employee, committing treason, or anything of the sort, execution is the way to go for termination. It ensures no problems and will leave you guilt-free (assuming your alignment is evil, chaotic evil, etc.). It also makes an example out of said Nazgul to the other employees to pull their weight and to obey their master. Now, how you want to go about doing this is that you want to first imprison the Nazgul. Execute him within five hours of capture, or there may be a big chance he could somehow escape. Chain him up, have him escorted to the top of Mount Doom as you ride his dragon to the top (this will tear him apart, seeing his mount yield to another master that is not him and will weaken his defenses.) Once at the top, get off the dragon, stand before the Nazgul with his back turned away from the mouth of the pits of Mount Doom. Then scream, “THIS. IS. MORDOR!” at the top of your lungs and kick him in.
And those are the best ways to fire a Nazgul. For more tips and advice about how to take over Middle Earth, read Chapter Nine; “How to Fool Your Enemy Into Believing You’re A Good Guy, Even With a Giant Looming Lair Clearly Giving Away Your Alignment Behind You”
04-29-2012, 07:30 AM
"What's that?" Engineer wandered around the lab, prodding and poking at whatever caught his eye. "Oooh, what's this?" He was walking around as if he was lost in a chocolate factory. Of course, it wasn't a chocolate factory. It was Medic's back room, full of old, broken or abandoned gizmos and experiments. Many of which had large amounts of blood caked on them.
"Zhere is more interesting stuff back here..." Medic sighed as he disappeared into another room. "Just don't open zhat blue door..."
The door slammed shut and Engineer could hear Medic tinkering with stuff. He was pretty impressed with Medic. He'd always thought he was just a crazy doctor, but he was also good with machines. Heck, if Engy ever quit, he'd instantly recommend that Medic take his place. Even if Medic still remained as the team doctor.
But that blue door. It had suddenly grabbed his attention. Meh, the crazy doctor wasn't looking.
Engineer opened the door. It wasn't exactly what he expected. There appeared to be a large equine creature preserved in cryogenic stasis in the middle of the room, accompanied by various equipment.
"I zhought I told you not to come in here?" Medic peered over Engineer's shoulder, scaring the shit out of him.
"Oh, sorry, doc, but... Is that a unicorn?"
Medic nodded. "Ja."
Engineer took off his welding goggles. "Wow. You made it?"
"Nein. Saxton Hale killed it and left it on my doorstep. I've been trying to... Clone it..."
Medic smiled. Engineer blinked.
With another grin, Medic pulled Engineer out of the room, then shut the door.
04-29-2012, 02:31 PM
We can make commercials? :O
How To Fire A Nazgul: A Guide
Announcer: So. For some odd reason you want to fire a Nazgul. We all know how hard that can be. So we've made a guide, JUST FOR YOU! No more will be the days of attempting to fire a Naz, only to have her not only not fired, but a better job position and get a raise. Today we will have our boss man named Mr. Smith try and fire the Naz, using our foolproof method.
Mr Smith: Hello there.
Announcer: So without further ado, here is the steps on how to fire a Nazgul!
[Pan to office where a Nazgul sits at her desk, talking on the phone]
Nazgul: Anne, gurl, lemme tell ya, you wouldn't even believe some of the things they try and make me do here!
Announcer: And the is a Nazgul in her native habitat. When first approaching a Naz, it is important to butter her up with compliments so her guard is down. Compliment her on her looks, her personality, what she likes and all the jazz.
Mr Smith(brightly): Hey Nazgul! How are you doing? You look stunning today! And your phone! What a great choice! Is that Twilight? I love Twilight! A literary masterpiece!
Nazgul: Anne, I'm gonna have to call you back. *turns to Mr Smith* What do you want?
Announcer: It seems the Nazgul has become suspicious! When this happens, switch to casual conversation.
Mr Smith: Oh! Uh..uh...nothing! So, um, how is the weather?
Nazgul: Really? The weather?
Mr Smith: *coughs*
Announcer: We've seem to hit an awkward hiatus in the conversation.Now would be a good time to bring up her poor work skills!
Mr Smith (sternly): Naz, lately your work has not been up to the Dynaco standards. You've skipped on meetings, barely do anything in work, and are always late,
Nazgul: What are you talking about?
Announcer: She seems confused! In all this confusion, fire her!
Mr Smith: So with my deepest regrets, I am sorry to say, You're fired.
Mr Smith: Please have your stuff gone by tomorrow at noon.
Nazgul: I don't even wor- (A lightbulb appears over her head) Oh! Um, boo hoo. I am heartbroken. When do I pick up my last paycheck?
Mr Smith: *hands Naz a check* There ya go.Once again, I'm so-
Nazgul: Yeah, yeah. Thanks for everything! *quickly leaves*
Announcer: See how easy it is to fire a Nazgul? With just 3 payments of- What? That wasn't her workplace? Just visiting her brother? Guys, go get her! Now! We gave her a paycheck! Um, sorry folk, but we are having some issues. But rest assured. this method works for firing a Nazgul!
04-29-2012, 05:31 PM
29 is up! Will update the listies in a few.
I can't believe April's almost over!
04-29-2012, 10:50 PM
Childish Gambino's submissions:
Neil: You a big lord of the rings fan?
Ed: Of course I am, are you?
Neil: Hell yeah, that's my shit.
Ed: Yeah man, the people for middle earth fighting for survival of their era, the age of man. Fuck yeah!
Neil: You're kidding right? What you just said was the biggest pile of bull shit I have ever heard.
Ed: Are you talking about?
Neil: Dude lord of the rings is totally the most racist thing on the planet.
Ed: You're kidding..
Neil: You ever hear them in the movie? The age of man was never under threat did you see how many human bad guys there were in the third movie. They were as many as the damn orcs, how was the age of man dying? Unless you mean the age of the only colour the good guys were even the good guys of other races.
Ed: This is one of those things you have no intention of letting go isn't it.
Neil: Hey I can let it go. Any way I love the movie. The story of the Nazgul is always what keeps me interested.
Ed: How in the hell does that work.
Neil: Well look at the nazgul. They wear matching colours. They Move as a group. They pull ride bys, galloping past people or flying past people and killing the shit out of them before moving on. They run crews and they have turf, the leader of course having by far the most impressive turf, which is a fort. You know what that makes?
Neil: A gang! The only thing those people need is a series of gang signs.
Ed: You know that's actually pretty awesome. I never thought about that.
Neil: Hells yeah, it's totally a gang. Well we all know how the recruitment process worked. All the had to do was wear the ring.
Ed: You know what would have been funny? If there'd been like a tenth member of the Nazgul. Like obviously the best one would have been the witch king chap. He had the best beast creature thingy. He had the biggest castle and he was the one who over saw the entire armies movements. You know what would have of been epic? If there'd been like some other nazgul, let's call him Paul.
They gave him land and an army but he screwed it up about fifty too many times until they finally took it away from him. You never saw him in the horse races before his horse died in a random smithing accident. You never saw him flying high because his beast wasn't laugh enough to strike enough fear into his enemies so it got its ass shot down.
All the other Nazgul recover quickly and come back to life but his recoveries are most likely his best feature because he dies just THAT many times.
Neil: Hey that works. The orcs would be like fuck, we'll just hang with Sarumon.
Ed: They can't die and it would be demoralizing to keep him around. Shit you'd have to ask him to leave.
Neil: Like firing them?
Ed: It's not like you could hand a Nazgul a pink slip.
Neil: I don’t think you would want to hand a Nazgul a thing.
Ed: You would most likely need a special tool.
Neil: Well I am well "empowered". I would use my big black feathered 'turkey' for a turkey slap the nazgul into submission.
Ed: Did it ever strike you that we may be unusually gross?
Neil: Come on, they can't be killed the more conventional methods would be pointless, and where's the fun in tying them to a rock? No, being hit with a penis is a massive game changer. Someone hits you in the face with their penis. I don’t care what time it is that day, I don’t care what you had planned. That's your entire day wrapped up. It's over. There's nothing else you're going to do.
Ed: I can't argue with you there man.
Neil: You know there's little I understand about this world, but the one thing that nukes my common sense is the unicorn.
Ed: What? Why?
Neil: It's just a horse! With a horse on its head. It's perfectly illogical. Why would a horse need it? Why?
Ed: Self defence?
Neil: It's a fucking horse. If it's in trouble, it leaves. Have you ever heard of a horse being caught by a lion? Of course not. But if a lion were to sneak up on a horse, it's going for the butt cheeks man. Pull you down from there. Are alternatively going for the throat.
Ed: You forget something. Think about the design of a horse, yes in the example you give, the horse would a no better than a zebra, if anything a horse might be much much like capable of surviving in a savannah like a zebra. Hard dry ground, most especially on the savannah, we're talking broken legs, broken hooves, baby horses turning into happy meals for hyenas and cheetahs. Sure. But! Unlike the rhino of the elephant the horse can't rely on power. So a unicorn in the savannah would have two choices, die or change its tack. Like the hippo man!
Neil: The Hippo?
Ed: Dude, fact the hippo when faced in conditions where food is low, I know what you're thinking. It's grass, how is grass low since it lives in fresh water, well screw you have you seen how much a hippo eats.
Neil: I wasn't going to say of that? Stop predictive texting my thoughts it's stupid.
Ed: Whatever! My point is that a hippo can turn carnivorous when the need arises. Those thin, long homo asses twirl horn will without a doubt be the weapon of an aggressive creature type. Omnivore unicorns! A unicorn that likes a two piece as much as you do.
Neil: If you're referring to fried chicken when you say two piece I'm going to smack you. HARD!
Neil: But yeah I can agree with that. A unicorn in the savannah would need to be more aggressive to survive. It's eyes might be closer together.
Ed: Of course. Sharper front teeth too.
Neil: Human type teeth.
Ed: Of course.
Neil: Man, the unicorn would also need to have decent hind legs because reversing is a big part of the attack. Moving backwards repositioning the neck and attacking.
Ed: They'd move in packs or tiny herds to look after each other. Female horses in greater supply, thinner but moving much, much faster.
Neil: holy shit man co ordinate attacks, two horses stab at the head as the beast starts to run, while keeping pace with the beast for up to fifteen minutes. Fastest three or two unicorns swing around from both sides and stab hard at the beast, depending on the creatures size and the strength and length of the horn. Impaling the throat, if the horns run risk of being broken or stabbing straight at the tendons to slow the beast's max speed down for continued attacks, leaving it to be stabbed to death slowly until it eventually runs out of blood or energy and calapses, depending on the horn the fucking creature could still be alive when the unicorns start feeding.
Ed: holy shit man. I can't believe you came up with that right now! This is what I came up with. I was thinking trees, you ever seen a lion or monkey climb a tree trunk. Think this, unicorns hiding near a group of apes waiting for a full group to touch ground, mating season, feeding I don’t know. When BAM! A group of unicorn attack, chasing after the apes and as the apes stop running to climb, the forwards velocity is gone, the speed is still there but not the velocity, so essentially for the unicorn running behind the ape might as well be jogging in place. The ape just, literally stabbed in the back, spear through the spine. Dead or dying.
Neil: I like your one,
Ed: I love yours.
Neil: I'd respect those unicorns. Not that frilly girly bullshit that the whole western world is crazy over. They can keep that shit.
Ed: African unicorns.
Neil: More realistic too, no need for no pansy pussy assed magic powers here. As if you really need magic abilities or tools to eat grass.
04-29-2012, 11:25 PM
I’m obsessed with things that most people think aren’t real. Like ghosts and magical realms that we have yet to discover. Not a lot of people like that. They think it’s a bad thing. I pretty much live in my mind, and a lot of people think that’s bad, too. I don’t think it’s bad, exactly, but maybe it’s unhealthy. Just not bad. Because of my obsession with such things, it gives me a lot of inspiration for my writing and artwork. Sometimes the hope I put in “imaginary” CAN have negative effects on my ever day life and expectations. For example, I am always looking for the perfect guy, but then I realize perfect men are like unicorns; they don’t exist and even if they did, I wouldn’t have one. But my refusal to believe that there is no such thing as a unicorn always opens that little gate way for me to hope there IS a perfect guy out there somewhere. A regular Prince Charming, ya know? I don’t know. I guess I just need to lower my expectations. I think as long as I can find someone who can live in his head as much as I do, then I will be content. Someone like me wouldn’t be so bad...at least we could talk about our crazy beliefs of imaginary things together without feeling insane. Anyway, I’ve got some things to do. Now that I’ve got that off my chest, I feel a lot better.
Til Next Time,
04-30-2012, 05:50 AM
"Teekay, why do I have to wear this?" Phovos asked as she put on the furry costume.
"Pahrak's invited us to go bird watching. He actually tracked us down and invited us to come with him. Can't really say no to that..." Teekay sighed, rummaging around for his binoculars.
"He did?" Phovos giggled. "That's sweet."
"Also, Kohrak will be there. I won't say no to an opportunity to meet up with Kohrak." Teekay finally found what he was looking for, then placed it in a bag, along with the picnic he had prepared.
"I didn't know Pahrak liked bird watching..." Phovos spun around and asked Teekay to do up the zip. "Also, that doesn't explain the costume..."
Teekay grunted. "We have to walk there since I can't drive yet. And since you're a large, green, anthropomorphic dinosaur and I'm a small, round, red alien with rather scary-looking hand shields and fangs, I have to project a mental image around us. If you dress up like a dog, it makes life a billion times easier for me..."
They were interrupted by honking from outside.
"Tahn... TJ! Come on, we're waiting!"
It was Kohrak. Playing as a young woman. Good thing he could actually speak. Teekay peered through the curtains. They'd brought a bus along. And Lehvak was driving. Phovos hurried outside, momentarily forgetting that she was wearing a doggy costume, and leaped onto the bus.
"Hang on!" Teekay shouted back, before throwing the entire contents of his biscuit cupboard into the bag and following them outside.
"So, calling yourself Teekay these days, Tahnok?" Lehvak absent-mindedly stared at the sky.
Tahnok nodded. "I guess so. It's less... Bohrok-y... Oh hey, did you see that?" He pointed at a large, overgrown thistle. On it was a small, blue bird.
"Oh cool!" Kohrak flicked out his camera and started taking pictures. "Looks like a kingfisher..."
Lehvak smiled. "See, this is nice. Tahnok, you should really try to spend more time with us. You can bring Phovos down too. She's not too large as long as she remains on four legs..."
"I suppose... Wait, where is Phovos?" Tahnok asked.
Suddenly, the thistle with the bird on it disappeared. In its place was a crushed plant, and Phovos, chewing on a dead bird.
04-30-2012, 12:26 PM
Unicorns- Written hastilyChantelle Renae BonQuiQui the sassy Unicorn frolicked through the candy cane forest, licking the sugar trees as she went along. She was so happy that she sang a song.
“I’m a pony,
I love being a pony.
I have a horn,
I like corn.
I’m a unicorn!” she sang happily. Then her friend Arnold the Rapper Unicorn trotted up to Chantelle-Renae.
“Ay, gurl, ay, Yo signin’ sucks fo sho. Like what the heezy,” he said. “This is how you rap.” He then went to drop some phat beats.
“Yo, yo, yo, yo, Unicorn!
I don’t watch TV on Sundays,
I’ll break ya neck,
While watching Star Trek,
Yo, yo, yo, unicorn!”
He finished with a super stylin’ pony spin and a gleam in his eye. Then while they trotted to the cotton candy forest, of joy and happiness they found rainbows. They slid down a rainbow of marshmallows to where they found the Justin Beiber in Unicorn form!
“Swag, swag, swagity, swag, swag, my swagers,” he said, while flipping his mane wildly.
“Ew, Justin Beibs,” Arnold said, “Yo is like so homo.”
“OMG! That is like so mean! Justin Beiber is my looooove, guise.” Chantelle –Renae swooned.
“This one’s for you, babe,” Justin Beiber said with wink, “Ohhh, Chantelle, baby unicorn, I love you like a noodle. You’re my favorite poodle. Even though you’re a unicorn. Your hair is so crump, I just wanna give you a hug. I want to kiss you on the lips. I love you!!”
When he was done, Chantelle popped the question , and Justin said yes.
04-30-2012, 06:38 PM
WE'RE IN THE FINAL LAP!!!
04-30-2012, 07:02 PM
Quick note before I start, you might want to go through your list of who entered what day, because I think a few are missing.
"NUMBER THIRTY!" Lehvak leaped out of his seat and bashed his claws on the keyboard. "I LOVE 30! And after I've written this, I've completed the marathon! AMAZING, RIGHT?! And to CELEBRATE, I'm making EVERYONE WRITE!"
Behind him, Kohrak, Tahnok, Phovos, Medic, Engineer and Spy all groaned. None of them were in the mood for writing. None of them wanted to do anything but sit on Engineer's over-sized sofa and drink beer. Or lemonade, if you happened to be a Raptor.
Engineer opened his third can, then threw one over to Tahnok, who inspected the can, then poured it into two separate glasses. One for him, one for Kohrak.
"Er, guys, what should I write about?" Lehvak suddenly asked. "The theme is 30, the one I love..."
Spy grinned, and took a puff on his latest cigarette. "Ah, mon petit ami, the one I love... She is a beautiful woman... You Bohrok do not know what you are missing. The love between a man and a woman is... More than anything..."
"Actually..." Tahnok interrupted. "I know what human love is like. I used to fancy a wonderful woman. She was 18 years old. I was 5. I didn't understand much back then. Deep down, I still love her, but she's gone..."
"Did she leave?" Phovos asked.
Tahnok hesitated. "No... She was killed... But... You see, scientists messed with her body. They created something out of her remains... An ex..." Tears were forming in Tahnok's large, blue eyes. Kohrak put an arm around his brother's shoulder.
"It's okay, Tahnok. We're here..." Phovos curled up around Tahnok's legs while Kohrak hugged him.
Engineer tried to change the conversation. "Well, Ah'm in love wit' mai machines. They're like mai friends when mai friends are gone. Fillin' the silence wit' their beeps..."
"You need ein wife..." Medic smiled. "You need a reason to go home, mein Freund. Only the one you love can keep you sane..."
"But you're not exactly sane, are you, doc?" Phovos asked. "You're crazier than Lehvak on coffee pills."
"Vell, I didn't say that love can't drive you crazy either, did I?" Medic grinned again and helped himself to the rest of Engineer's beer. "But, I MUST say, I love zhe team too. Zhe team, ve're all best friends. Ve have our arguments, but ve all love each other deep down, right?"
Kohrak nodded. "Yep. I know we've had our fair share of hatred, but I love all my brothers and sisters. Every single one of them. Especially you, Tahnok..."
Lehvak got up from his chair in the corner and sniffed. "That was beautiful, guys..."
"Got enough inspiration for your story?" Phovos smiled, licking beer from a can on the floor.
Lehvak grinned and stared at the screen. "Yep, definitely. My true love is writing. That's the one I love..."
With a final, happy smile, Lehvak pressed 'Post Reply', then turned off his laptop.
05-01-2012, 12:31 AM
The day everyone went outside for bird sighting.
Neil: Why am I here?
Ed: Bird watching.
Neil: This is bullshit. The extent to which I do not want to do this is so severe that it literally hurts my chest. I honest to god do NOT want this and do not want to do this. I can't stand it.
Ed: don’t you think you're over reacting? Just a little.
Neil: Take a moment to consider it. We're going to go outside get up under the glaring sun light, with binoculars and stalk a bird.
Ed: It's bird watching.
Neil: Watching suggests some level of agreement between you and the bird and yourself. There's no agreement. You're stalking it. At least when a hunter you're watching birds for a purpose. Even those ones who do it to keep track of migrations and numbers have purpose. Shit man THAT'S the purpose. What the hell is the purpose of bird watching.
Ed: Bird watching is the purpose of bird watching! You see majestic creature.
Neil: They're flying balls of shitty feathers! There's nothing majestic about shitty while flying. Do you think they even wobble when they're in mid flight.
Ed: I honestly don't know. I've never actually gone out to look for birds taking a shit.
Neil: Oh really, you look at the bird for fucking hours and you've never seen it shit? That doesn't strike you as odd?
Neil: I keep thinking about how I can't take a piss when someone is watching me. I can't imagine how many birds have exploded on the inside because of creepy bird watchers staring at their ass. Probably why they learned how to fly and shit at the same time anyway!
Ed: Fuck you man
05-01-2012, 12:31 AM
The day everyone went outside for bird sighting.
Neil: Why am I here?
Ed: Bird watching.
Neil: This is bullshit. The extent to which I do not want to do this is so severe that it literally hurts my chest. I honest to god do NOT want this and do not want to do this. I can't stand it.
Ed: don’t you think you're over reacting? Just a little.
Neil: Take a moment to consider it. We're going to go outside get up under the glaring sun light, with binoculars and stalk a bird.
Ed: It's bird watching.
Neil: Watching suggests some level of agreement between you and the bird and yourself. There's no agreement. You're stalking it. At least when a hunter you're watching birds for a purpose. Even those ones who do it to keep track of migrations and numbers have purpose. Shit man THAT'S the purpose. What the hell is the purpose of bird watching.
Ed: Bird watching is the purpose of bird watching! You see majestic creature.
Neil: They're flying balls of shitty feathers! There's nothing majestic about shitty while flying. Do you think they even wobble when they're in mid flight.
Ed: I honestly don't know. I've never actually gone out to look for birds taking a shit.
Neil: Oh really, you look at the bird for fucking hours and you've never seen it shit? That doesn't strike you as odd?
Neil: I keep thinking about how I can't take a piss when someone is watching me. I can't imagine how many birds have exploded on the inside because of creepy bird watchers staring at their ass. Probably why they learned how to fly and shit at the same time anyway!
Ed: Fuck you man
05-01-2012, 01:21 AM
“The Day That Everyone Went Outside To Birdsight”
Shiloh stood before the half-broken window at Graverobber’s place again, peering out as the sun started to rise as she tried to decide whether or not that today was going to be the day that she would finally go outside. Graverobber was still asleep in the other room on the floor. He had let her have the cot to sleep in in what Shiloh thought was once a lobby. She sighed and crossed her arms loosely over her chest, deep in thought. The past few days that she’d spent with Graverobber, who went by no other name than that, had been both eye-opening and frightening. There was still so much about the world she had to learn.
“G’mornin’, kid.” Shiloh turned at the sound of Graverobber’s voice and gasped a bit. “It’s you...uh, you startled me,” she said swallowing hard. It was a bit embarrassing for her to be caught gazing out the window again like a puppy at a pet shop waiting to be taken home. Graverobber stretched and replied, “My apologies. You wanna go get something for breakfast somewhere?” Shiloh looked up at him timidly, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she glanced back toward the window. “You’ll be going with me, right?” He chuckled. “If you’d prefer me not to, I can go elsewhere.” Shiloh shook her head. “No, I mean...I would like you to go. I don’t like being out there by myself...yet.”
On the way to the cafe, Shiloh walked closely next to Graverobber, keeping away from large crowds and any situation that might cause her to be separated from him. He pretended not to notice and walked casually along the sidewalk to their destination. He felt a stir at his right side when Shiloh pointed at all the people sitting on their rooftops and staring up at the sky. “What are those people doing?,” she asked, tilting her head slightly. Graverobber thought for a moment. “Ah, yes. I almost forgot. They’re watching for the birds. Hardly any of them come around here anymore because of the pollution and such...so when they do come around, people sit outside on their roofs and throw out bread crumbs and such to lure the birds closer. Some people here have never even seen a bird up close. It’s considered a very rare event.” Shiloh looked up at her companion. “I’ve never seen a bird up close.” Graverobber smiled. “Well, then, I know what we’re doing on our free day; getting breakfast and going bird watching.”
05-01-2012, 02:01 AM
“The One I Love: A Love Letter”
Three years ago today, you asked me to be with you. Here we are, years later, and hopefully more to go, and it's been a long, long journey together. The longest I've ever traveled with anyone. Though our adventure together has held many misfortunes, trials, and rough patches, it has also held much happiness, love, and laughter along the way. I know I'm not the best person in the world and I have many, many flaws, but the fact that you know that and accept each one is all I've ever wanted out of someone. From time to time I get myself into trouble and screw up, but you're always there in the end, ever patient and always ready to work things out. You are a lovely human being, inside and out. I love you so much. Just when I begin to wonder if you and I will last, everything is reinforced in the end and reassured because I can never leave you. I always come back to you somehow and I know it's because my heart can't stand to be away from yours. Never in my life has anyone ever had the kind of impact on me that you have. You make me a better person just being around me. Everything with us is team work, even when we fall out of sync, we fall back into place again like two missing puzzle pieces that were missing and then found and put together again. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for sharing everything with me. Thank you for taking care of me even when I push you away and insist I can do it on my own. I honestly don't know what I would do if you. Anytime we've spent a long time together and then have to part ways again, I find myself turning to talk to you even though you're not there. I find myself scooting closer to you in bed and then finding you aren't there. I have even reached out to lay my hand on your lap when you weren't there. Bet you didn't know that. I love you, Ethan. It's been a glorious three years. And...if you'll have me, I'd like to make it another wonderful three.
05-01-2012, 03:42 AM
Day 30 Entry
As a sports fan, certain numbers remind me of certain current or former baseball players. Up until two months or so ago, any mention of the number 30 would leave me with either no memory of the number being worn by a New York Met or any other baseball player, or I would somehow be reminded of Cliff Floyd, who was an outfielder with the Mets in the early 2000s. I liked him a lot, even though the only thing that I remember about him was that he caught the last out in the game that the Mets won to clinch the NL East Division title in 2006.
Now that I’ve become a hockey fan, the number 30 makes me think of something besides a former Mets outfielder (who is awesome no matter what).
One word: Goalies.
I was doing some “research” for a goalie-themed wallpaper “project” and while I was doing said “research”, I discovered that there are several goalies who wear the number 30, including Martin Brodeur, who plays for the New Jersey Devils. I love Martin Brodeur in a non fangirl-ish way, despite the fact that I think he’s God.
Seriously, Martin Brodeur IS God.
He’s absolutely amazing! I’ve watched several Devils games on TV and in all but one or two of the games that I’ve seen where he wasn’t playing, he has made several AMAZING saves. I love watching Martin Brodeur make saves, especially when he dives for the puck or miraculously manages to reach up and catch it in midair. That man is amazing and I love him in that special, non-romantic way that a sports fan loves every player on his or her team.
I love goalies, especially the ones that wear number 30, but out of all of them, Martin Brodeur is the one that I love the most (in a non-romantic way, of course).
(I'm sure that the second "30" on the Day 30 update was unintentional, but I decided to be creative and treat it as if it was supposed to be there. If it wasn't there at all, this entry would have been a lot harder to write. lol)
05-01-2012, 04:13 AM
I do believe I've got everyone updated on page 1. If anyone sees any mistakes, please pm me?
05-01-2012, 12:26 PM
There was a chirping in the air like an enchanting tune to all who heard it. The young were drawn out of bed like they had smelled cinnamon rolls and bacon. The elderly leaped out of bed like they were they were young again. Parents rolled out of bed, eager to find the source of the sound. They all went outside to see what was making the sound. It was birds! Their eyes feasted upon the huge beautiful creatures. Their feathers were slick and shiny, their beaks sharp. Their heads turned slowly to face the humans that had come out to see them. They continued to sing until everybody had been drawn out their homes. Then, when they had the interest of everyone. Then that’s when they began to change.
Their bodies stretched out into long, abnormal shapes. They were still bird-like but they were creepy creatures. Their claws grew longer and sharper, and their beaks started to grow. Their eyes turned a crimson red and hellfire seemed to glow in them. They let out caws that sounded like the shrieks of young children being devoured. The people were frozen in fear, unable to move as they watched the hideous birds.
Then, someone screamed. That one scream set everything off. All of a sudden everyone went into a frenzied panic. People ran around and started attacking each other. They shoved each other out of the way to get free. The birds cawed and dived upon the masses, ripping off limbs as they swept through the crowd. The people tried to run, tried to hide, but they couldn’t evade the massive slaughter that was soon to come. There were no survivors.
And that’s why no one goes bird sighting.
05-01-2012, 11:18 PM
The one I love
Loving someone is easy. I do everything I can to love as many people as possible. You may not believe it but I love you too. This is true but as I said love is easy. What could be simpler than caring for someone. It's a naturally part of you even animals have it. I mean I'm pretty sure everyone knows that story of how some animal types would think of the first person they saw to be their mothers.
So you'd think that that would be it but that isn't the problem. I mean seriously there were was nothing more to it we'd all be living happily ever after, there'd be world peace and all would be well. The world would make sense, most lovely perfection.
But it's not like that.
It's easy to love someone, everyone does it. It's damn near impossible to keep it and absolutely impossible for some that's a bad thing, for the rest it's a great thing as it leaves room for even more affection to be had.
But most of that love in the face of imperfect beings in a imperfect world given out by someone just as imperfect as the world itself, you and you know it, comes at a cost or rather, it carries a certain level of weight.
You grow up and eventually(some traumas of course speeding the process) what had once been an open field of free movement called love becomes a tight rope hanging over a mine field called realistic love. Or for some sad people 'actual love' god I feel sorry for them.
The weight of love being drawn upon you as you fall in love makes you want to dance your way to a happy ending.
Hurt lies all around you as you moon walk across that tight rope and yet one still pushes forwards.
Why? What's the point?
Because it's fucking love that's why!
It's the ultimate of ultimates. Everyone one wants to bond to some level. Even maniac who shoots up his office or school would love to have a friend shooting with him! Probably one with boobs, so you can have something to look at while you reload! Though granted if you had a girlfriend you wouldn't be shooting up your school. These sad people have a name, it's spell R-P-A M-E-M-B-E-R! Just kidding, but I digress. Love is an amazing feeling, one of the ultimate wants. If you can call it that.
I've done the dance on the tight rope a dozen times and every time with the exception of maybe the last three I was the one who lost the energy to continue to dance and I dove off the path myself. The last three I was thrown. Be it distance, timing, money or more commonly being pushed into a mine I failed but not this time.
I can't believe that I am in love once again. I thought the only person I would love after my last disaster was myself. No one could hate you for caring for yourself. Put myself first. It didn't last.
I found an angel, I found heaven. I found the one I love. The tight rope is still there but it's thicker than I would have thought it would be, I feel more comfortable than I thought I would happier and more whole than I have been in months.
And so I write this to the one I love and thank you for loving me too. Smart as a missile , Awesome as awesome can be, Marvellously sweet. Stay epic and I will do all I can to stay pure.
05-02-2012, 01:39 AM
I like this topic, because I get to talk about the most wonderful guy in the world :)
The One I love? You want to know about him? Well, okay.
First of all, just thinking about him makes me smile. He always makes me smile. We have the same sense of humor, me and him. I always joke that we’re mental twins. We’ll say things at the same time, making me go into a fit of giggles. He always makes me laugh. Always. He thinks he’s not funny, but trust me, he’s hilarious. Even when he doesn’t try, he makes me laugh so hard, my chest aches.
He’s brilliant, too. His sharp sarcastic wit, never fails to leave me in awe of him. When I can’t think of a good comeback, he’s always there to snap with a great remark at whoever dares to hurt his friends.
And he’s as loyal as a dog. He always sticks by my side, thick or thin. You don’t talk trash about the people he cares for. Talk shit, get hit. It gets him in trouble, but in the end, he thinks it’s worth it. He’s like my bodyguard. With him, no one can hurt me.
He’s perfect in my eyes. He’s not all lanky and he’s not a muscle magazine kinda guy. His hair is super soft and he claims he looks emo. I just think he’s a cutie.
It’s funny how the whole world can be against you, and you’re perfectly okay with it, because at the end of the day, he’s still by your side. Everyone can love you, but it means nothing, if he’s mad at you. It’s funny could win the lottery, but still feel like crap, all because you didn’t get to tell he goodnight and you love him. It’s funny how you can fall in love, so hard, so fast, and you know that that person has your heart. It’s funny how Spade not only has my heart, he is my heart. I LOVE YOU SPADE <3
How coincidental - the reason I've missed the last few days of the marathon is also the last topic for it.
The One I Love.
The one I love I met in a field.
A field of tipis standing in the rain.
Our time there together was short but real.
And then we ran into each other again.
The one I love I swore I didn't love.
I told myself and him 'it's all just fun.'
For what point is there in love when you must leave?
Unfortunately I had found the one.
Really, fortune smiled on me in those days.
Just the two of us against the world, for months.
But then the time came for me to fly away,
Back to my home, away from the one I love.
The one I love followed me all the way though,
Across 10,000 miles of land and sea,
And In my heart I felt this burning glow,
When my only love came all that way for me.
But once again, we knew that it must end.
As always, we had everything but time.
And then we had to seperate again.
But the one I love promised to remain mine.
Now I sit in my room and pass the days,
I cannot leave just yet, I need more time,
In my home, before I fly away,
To be once more with that love of mine.
I have to leave my whole homeland behind,
Just to have my love without the time limit,
I'll miss the sun, the beach, these friends of mine.
But the heart wants what it wants, and isn't shy in it.
So for now I turn to my friend, red wine.
Always faithful, helping me when I'm in need.
It helps to fill the hollow somewhere along the length of my spine,
Until I can be reunited with the one I love.
Until our love succeeds.
05-02-2012, 07:37 PM
Wow, you guys and gals. You totally killed it in this contest! I'm impressed with every one of you. :)
Awards are coming soon!
You did lovely everyone =D
05-02-2012, 07:49 PM
*High fives all around* Good job, fellow marathon-ers. lol : D It was a pleasure writing along side such talent. <3
05-02-2012, 09:31 PM
Oh thank god it's finally over! I AM EXHAUSTED!
Keeping a single idea and moving it along every single idea was EXHAUSTING!! I'm an idiot for trying! OMG Everyone I wrote with was great! I even read some of the peotry, which I never do on principle since I can't do it! XD
THANK YOU for creating this concept. It's brilliant! I want to use it for evil! I already have plans in the work bwhwhahahahahaah!!!
Seriously I had an exhaustingly awesome time even when I didn't have that net and thankies for Ty helping me out.
05-03-2012, 04:02 AM
This was awesome. We should do this more often!
Yay! I fell down a little at the end (into a pit of emotional, uninspirational miserable turmoil) but I still made it mostly!!
Everyone who wrote in this was amazing! Great work guys :D
Awesome you guys who did this!
05-04-2012, 09:54 PM
Did I qualify for a prize? *Teary eyes*
05-04-2012, 10:48 PM
*Excited to see who gets awards and what they look like* I LIKE SHINY, INTANGIBLE THINGS. :wattz:
05-04-2012, 11:14 PM
Is my silence killing you guys? Is the suspense just driving you crazy?
05-04-2012, 11:25 PM
I'm in side car on a motobike with Anne on the bike riding all of us to crazy town!!
05-05-2012, 12:30 AM
*Nods* AUGH THE SUSPENSE IS TOO MUCH.
And the RPApril section has been silent for DAYS.
05-05-2012, 12:47 AM
well... cause it's May -grin-
05-05-2012, 12:48 AM
Smarty pants, I meant we've heard nothing about winners and stuff. XD
05-05-2012, 12:56 AM
*thinks of changing her title to Mz Smarty Pants*
you must have patience young jedi... these things take Time, specially if you want them done, just, right!
05-05-2012, 03:20 AM
*Waves two fingers* These are not the contestants of the writer's marathon you're looking for.
05-05-2012, 03:55 AM
Oh! Ok then. I'll go give these awards to someone else....
05-05-2012, 05:14 AM
05-05-2012, 10:42 AM
This is not the Anne Bonny you are looking for...
05-05-2012, 06:27 PM
Do want shiny things O_O
And good job to everyone who did this! This was so fun!! =)
05-05-2012, 09:50 PM
Hey did you guys find Ed and Neil funny?
Ms ty said they were assholes. ^_^
....I'm still not talking to her.......
05-05-2012, 10:25 PM
I found the Ed and Neill concept to be entertaining, yes. XD It was one of those things that I looked at and thought, "Compared to this, my entry sucks," everyday. lol Good job. :3
05-05-2012, 10:48 PM
Ed and Neil, ftw! I loved them :D
I loved all the Mr. E Solved Adventures!!
05-06-2012, 03:44 PM
Gambino would blame me for things =/ Pfffft, he should be happy that I was his posting lackey! =D
05-06-2012, 09:11 PM
I WANT MAH PRIZES D:
Lol, but seriously, when are we getting our awards? It's 6 days past May! *prepares angry mob*
05-06-2012, 09:14 PM
The awards should be handed out by tomorrow night. If not, you have my permission to flog me with the flogging implement of your choice.
05-06-2012, 09:20 PM
Old Gregg won't flog you. He'll probably just make you drink Bailley's from a shoe. A smelly one.
05-06-2012, 11:18 PM
Nah. I don't drink.
05-06-2012, 11:45 PM
Butbutbut...WE WERE GOING TO GO SPELUNKING. D:
05-07-2012, 05:01 AM
Oh god. I must now change my name to Spy Sleeps In A Yellow Thong.
Ed and Neil were awesome. My characters were all insane.
Woah, I only wrote 10k words in this marathon. Not even close to a NaNoWriMo novel :(
05-07-2012, 10:08 AM
The awards should be handed out by tomorrow night. If not, you have my permission to flog me with the flogging implement of your choice.
Neil: That's an interesting choice of words.
Ed: I know right? I know I wouldn't have used them if I'd read our piece of....literacy.
Neil: I know! Maybe he didn't read the best way of getting rid of a Nazgul.
Ed: Perhaps it was Freudian slip.
Neil: Well that would change things wouldn't it?
Ed: I don't know about change things....
Neil: Is there something you need to tell me?
Neil: I'm not judging.
Ed: You're judging me so hard, is can see the bloody gabble man!
Neil: We've sailed off the topic.
Ed: Oooh sailing! Speaking of flogging Naz with what ever we want. I'm sure we can use the firing technique we created. An attack my Moby Dick.
Neil: Is that what you call...it?
Ed: No but I should start using it like that. Big white whale that makes harpoons look like needles.
Neil: That sucks!
Ed: You're just jealous that it's a white wale.
Neil: Hey it's not my fault that the black whales aren't special. The black ones are just every where. I wonder what the other whales are called. I know Big Willy
Ed: Like Will Smith? Why?
Neil: Because it's always out there, ladies loves him and how many nicknames start with big.
Ed: But that nukes the sailing comment.
Neil: You're right what about the alternative to Obey Dick.
Ed: I don't get it.
Neil: Like the rapper. Obie Trice?
Neil: Screw you! you know who I'm talking about. You're being a dick. I should lift you by your ankles and flog Naz with you!
05-07-2012, 05:03 PM
The awards have been handed out! Congrats to our first place winners, Elkay, Old Gregg and Leoni Green! All three of them completed an entry for every day of the Marathon!!!
Second place goes to Childish Gambino and the informative gangsta, who got an entry in for almost every day! I think Childish only missed two, and gangsta missed four or five? That's so impressive!
I don't have a badge or a prize, but I'd like to give a shout out to our honorable mentions, loveandsunshine and SpeckieBen, who completed forteen and twelve days, respectively.
Thanks so much for participating, everyone! I loved reading your writing. I loved everyone's take on the different themes. I was surprised by many, and impressed by all. :)
05-07-2012, 11:32 PM
*Intricate fanfare for all* :D
05-08-2012, 03:48 AM
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