SAINT ROSE PRESCHOOL
"Kimiko, it's not nice to shout out answers. Wait until you are called on."
READING: Red, GRADE: E+
Litmus paper is used in science to indicate how acidic or basic a substance it. If you would like an acidic substance, using litmus paper allows you to realize that your substance is too basic and that you need to add more acidity.
SAINT JOSEPH GRADE SCHOOL
"Raise your hand before speaking Kimiko!"
READING: Yellow, GRADE: E+
SAINT JOSEPH MIDDLE SCHOOL
"Kimiko, your participation level is low. I know you are an A+ student, so I'm giving you the opportunity for extra credit if you'd like to take it."
Reading: Green, GRADE: A+
SAINT MARY HIGH
"As it says on your syllabus, participation is 5% of your grade; as long as you participated you will get full credit. When I call your name, come up to see your current grade."
"Kimiko, you didn't participate this quarter; please speak up for this last week of school so I can give you full credit, okay?"
Reading: Blue, GRADE: A+
COLLEGE
" "
Reading: N/A (Litmus Paper not provided.), GRADE: A-
Friday, December 26, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
ER
Oh how much I have forgotten how much I dislike hospitals. All the beeping of the machines and the organized chaos that runs around like recess at the local elementary playground. The look of concern and death on all that are around. How could I forget the smell, damn the smell, the trying to mask decaying peoples excrement with lysol to give it that pine fresh smell. While nurses and doctors try to keep a straight face when talking to either their patients or their families but all the while having no idea what is actually wrong, second guessing that time that they decided to get high instead of studying back in med school. But enough of trying to figure out what is wrong in all their lives, hell most of the staff here dose not give a shit about how I feel, some are here just to collect a paycheck but others, well others are here just because they need the feeling of hurt, sorrow or some sort of pain just to feel alive.
My girlfriend and I got to the ER around 9:00pm and sat in the icebox of the waiting room we sit and wait and wait and wait, five hours go by and we still are not seen. My girlfriend at this time has gone to talking to the other patients just to pass the time and to kill her hunger pains that are growing deep inside her. One couple has been here for over eight hours and are still waiting to get in, I think she said they were here due to the younger man getting a broken jaw some how. Sitting in this uncomfortable chair I have had enough, from not being able to breathe, swallow and having a high fever I drag myself up to the check in window and decided to tell the on-call that I'm going home.
Here is where things happen that I still don't understand. The head on-call tells me that I can not leave and if I do they can charge me with going A.W.O.L., at first when I hear this I think she is joking and just laugh in her general direction, until she says it again. At hearing this I snap at the lady, "Just how in the hell are you going to charge somebody with going awol if they are not even in the fucking active duty Army and that I have been out for five years!" Now to charge a soldier with awol means that basically a soldier just leaves and doesn't tell anybody where he is going, kinda like running away. It is a serious charge for most soldiers or for kids who join and go into boot camp. The lady goes into the back and grabs the head nurse in charge and tries to have her explain this charge against me, "sir you came in here, signed in and therefore you are our responsibility, not to m-", Ma'am I say, "I need to remind you that I am no longer in the Army and therefore can not be charged with awol, so therefore you all need to get your facts straight before you go and threaten somebody". Saying all this probably didn't sound anything like I thought it really sounded like but I made my point and still left to go home, I mean hell it was already like one in the morning and I have not eaten since this morning.
After getting home my girlfriend and I attempt to get some sleep and I will try the college clinic here in the morning. That night was the worst night of my life as far as sleep goes, every time I would fall asleep my throat would clog up and choke me to where I could not breath and Erin would shake me to get me up. I don't think that either one of us got any sleep, I even got up twice in the night to take a really hot shower to try to open up my system so I could breathe. I have to be honest that at this point I was really starting to scare myself.
The next morning we both go up the hill to the medical services building to get me looked at. The staff here is very friendly and wants to help so it puts me at ease, I get put through the regular checks that goes on in here. While here I get seen by two students, two doctors and one nurse who look at me like they have seen a ghost. They tell me that since they can not see into my throat due to all the swelling I need to get to an ER to get looked at right away, makes sense because I have not been able to breathe correctly. So here we go for the second day in a row, back to the ER at Trippler, god I hope that I don't have to wait five hours again. We arrive at the ER around noon and decided to do the sign in and wait plan of attack again.
This time it only takes four hours to see me, and right away the nurse in charge starts to hook me up with an IV and flushes my system with a wonderful cocktail of steroids, morphine and antibiotics. All the well educated around me are pleased with the success of their med cocktail. After watching me and my machine change numbers from high to low and my look getting better they decided to release me with some pills and to take care with a half hearted smile. I even have to admit that I felt great and was thankful for everything that the doctors had done for me. God I slept well that night and when I woke up I felt like a new person. So obeying doctors orders I stayed home and just relaxed in front of the television and great 80's movies.
The problem with being released from the emergency room after being pumped full of drugs is that when the meds leave your system you crash hard, hella hard worse than before.
At three in the morning I choke my self awake and stumble downstairs to throw myself into a hot shower to help open up my throat. This hot shower trick has usually worked in the past and I was hoping that it might work one more time so I can get back to sleep. While in the shower I start to gag on my own saliva and phlegm, I drop to my knees trying to spit up this invader of my airways so I can breathe, im starting to get more scared now, I can't breathe. I manage to turn off the water and crawl out of the shower to where im in position to puke up what ever is in my system into the toilet. Enough is enough and I dress myself not even bothering to dry off, I climb the stairs up to Erin like they were the rope ladder in the gym. I stumble to her bed and attempt to sit down, feeling for her hand I finally find it and give it a gentle squeeze, she wakes up and notices that Im not well, she starts to talk to me but I can not respond to her because I can not talk. Tears falling out of my face I grab my cell phone and just type on the screen please take me to back to the ER.
Happy Holidays
“Merry-” the door to the condo burst open and, along with the blast of icy wind, two panting brothers burst through the door, their cheeks flushed from the cold outside and their eyes shinning with merriment.
“Don’t even start,” light brown eyes flashed crimson, a look of resignation on their owners face as the fire in the hearth began to burn merrily.
“Don’t be such a party pooper, Tobias,” the younger brother smiled in delight as he shook the snow from his hair.
“Hm...” crimson eyes simply stared back at their emerald counterparts.
“Huh... Still the same as ever, huh?”
“So it would seem,” Tobias nodded his agreement of the statement.
“So then, how about ‘good morning’?”
“As it is before noon, that will suffice. Yes.”
“Not in Japan it wouldn’t.”
“Play nice boys.”
“Boys...?” One husband and one friend turned to observe the process of a very sleepy, very pregnant woman making her way down the stairs in a fuzzy bathrobe and pink bunny slippers.
“Bailey, you look...” Vance’s brown eyes crinkled in mirth, “great? I don’t know... what’s the appropriate word? I’ll get back to you in a minute.”
“Uh huh.” The lady’s blue-green eyes narrowed slightly and a moment later-
“Ow! What the...”
Bailey had thrown one of her slippers at hit her friend in the head with it.
“Meh...” his brother shrugged. “It’s what you get for teasing her, again.”
“Thank you, Leo,” Bailey smiled gratefully at the elder of the two brothers, before turning, her gaze an attempt at severity despite her obvious mirth, to the younger one, “Vance, would you like more?”
There was only one answer her friend felt he could, in all honesty, give without lying, “Yes, please.” Vance smiled unabashedly while a rueful, yet unapologetic, grin found its way to his upturned cheeks.
His friend shook her head in mock disgust. “Never mind.”
“So?” Leo looked around. The foyer, he noted, was brightly lit with green and red lights. Almost to the point of being overdone but not quite. Most likely Tobias had done what he could to curb Bailey’s Christmas fervor. “Where is eve-”
His question was cut short as the door burst open once more and three more people tumbled in, giggling as the youngest one pounded her blonde haired friend with what was soon apparent, not the first snowball.
“Are you three quite finished?” Van wondered, as he banished the snow they had tracked in back through the still open door.
“She started it.”
Aubrey pointed an accusatory finger at Lauren who shook her head, attempting to deny what her mischievous smile already confirmed.
Maira, meanwhile, simply stood back to observe as she removed her coat and calmly surveyed the rest of the room. A single eyebrow rose as she took in the ornate decorations and she exchanged a look of mild amusement with Tobias.
“So,” Aubrey glanced at Leo, a smile racing across her face, as she took off her jacket and sat down on the couch in front of the fire, “it’s been a while, Leo.”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. I’ve been busy. Sorry...” he smiled apologetically.
Aubrey waved off his apology, “It’s fine. I know you would have called if you’d had time.” She turned to her other friends, “You guys look well, as expected.”
“Meh, as expected?”
“What’s with the ‘meh’?” Tobias glanced over at his best friend, the barest hint of a sly smile on his otherwise composed face. “Still the same as ever, huh?”
“Of course.” Leo grinned.
Aubrey rolled her eyes. A movement echoed by Lauren and Bailey. Van, on the other hand, proceeded to punch his big brother in the arm.
“Don’t even start,” light brown eyes flashed crimson, a look of resignation on their owners face as the fire in the hearth began to burn merrily.
“Don’t be such a party pooper, Tobias,” the younger brother smiled in delight as he shook the snow from his hair.
“Hm...” crimson eyes simply stared back at their emerald counterparts.
“Huh... Still the same as ever, huh?”
“So it would seem,” Tobias nodded his agreement of the statement.
“So then, how about ‘good morning’?”
“As it is before noon, that will suffice. Yes.”
“Not in Japan it wouldn’t.”
“Play nice boys.”
“Boys...?” One husband and one friend turned to observe the process of a very sleepy, very pregnant woman making her way down the stairs in a fuzzy bathrobe and pink bunny slippers.
“Bailey, you look...” Vance’s brown eyes crinkled in mirth, “great? I don’t know... what’s the appropriate word? I’ll get back to you in a minute.”
“Uh huh.” The lady’s blue-green eyes narrowed slightly and a moment later-
“Ow! What the...”
Bailey had thrown one of her slippers at hit her friend in the head with it.
“Meh...” his brother shrugged. “It’s what you get for teasing her, again.”
“Thank you, Leo,” Bailey smiled gratefully at the elder of the two brothers, before turning, her gaze an attempt at severity despite her obvious mirth, to the younger one, “Vance, would you like more?”
There was only one answer her friend felt he could, in all honesty, give without lying, “Yes, please.” Vance smiled unabashedly while a rueful, yet unapologetic, grin found its way to his upturned cheeks.
His friend shook her head in mock disgust. “Never mind.”
“So?” Leo looked around. The foyer, he noted, was brightly lit with green and red lights. Almost to the point of being overdone but not quite. Most likely Tobias had done what he could to curb Bailey’s Christmas fervor. “Where is eve-”
His question was cut short as the door burst open once more and three more people tumbled in, giggling as the youngest one pounded her blonde haired friend with what was soon apparent, not the first snowball.
“Are you three quite finished?” Van wondered, as he banished the snow they had tracked in back through the still open door.
“She started it.”
Aubrey pointed an accusatory finger at Lauren who shook her head, attempting to deny what her mischievous smile already confirmed.
Maira, meanwhile, simply stood back to observe as she removed her coat and calmly surveyed the rest of the room. A single eyebrow rose as she took in the ornate decorations and she exchanged a look of mild amusement with Tobias.
“So,” Aubrey glanced at Leo, a smile racing across her face, as she took off her jacket and sat down on the couch in front of the fire, “it’s been a while, Leo.”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. I’ve been busy. Sorry...” he smiled apologetically.
Aubrey waved off his apology, “It’s fine. I know you would have called if you’d had time.” She turned to her other friends, “You guys look well, as expected.”
“Meh, as expected?”
“What’s with the ‘meh’?” Tobias glanced over at his best friend, the barest hint of a sly smile on his otherwise composed face. “Still the same as ever, huh?”
“Of course.” Leo grinned.
Aubrey rolled her eyes. A movement echoed by Lauren and Bailey. Van, on the other hand, proceeded to punch his big brother in the arm.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Another Crazy
I wake up, looking around me at the red-stained sheets and the broken glass and the scattered clothing—I know something had happened here. I look to my right and see him there, sprawled out with his face smashed against the pillow, that smile of brainless sleep that comes with a night of getting trashed plastered across his face. I pull the covers off me, trying to get up to go take a piss, and as I push myself off the bed, I feel it. The pain riddling my body sends shock waves through me like a raging fire.
I look down and see bruises and red etchings of teeth scattered across my
skin.
“What the fuck!? How the fuck did this happen?” I half scream, half
whisper, not wanting to wake the naked body on the bed. “Oh my god.”
I roll my eyes, knowing I’d done it again. I’d found another crazy that seemed so impeccably sane. “Fuck shit.” I half limp to the bathroom, the bruises and bite marks on my legs still smarting, still discovering themselves. “God damn it.”
As I move to sit on the toilet seat, I discovered where the real problem would be. My ass felt so bruised and scratched that even grazing the seat sent pain so intense surging through my body that I thought my knees might buckle beneath me.
That was too much. I hurriedly limp back to the bedroom, delicately pulling on my pants and shirt, grabbing my purse then heading for the door. As I open it I hear a faint “Hey, where you goin’ baby?”
And I slam the door shut behind me.
I look down and see bruises and red etchings of teeth scattered across my
skin.
“What the fuck!? How the fuck did this happen?” I half scream, half
whisper, not wanting to wake the naked body on the bed. “Oh my god.”
I roll my eyes, knowing I’d done it again. I’d found another crazy that seemed so impeccably sane. “Fuck shit.” I half limp to the bathroom, the bruises and bite marks on my legs still smarting, still discovering themselves. “God damn it.”
As I move to sit on the toilet seat, I discovered where the real problem would be. My ass felt so bruised and scratched that even grazing the seat sent pain so intense surging through my body that I thought my knees might buckle beneath me.
That was too much. I hurriedly limp back to the bedroom, delicately pulling on my pants and shirt, grabbing my purse then heading for the door. As I open it I hear a faint “Hey, where you goin’ baby?”
And I slam the door shut behind me.
Guns
They are sitting on the floor outside my new room. It has a big door. And it is see-through. Mommy has been crying a lot. Her face is always wet. She always has a ring of tissue around her. I want to hug her now, but she is too far away. They say that she’s not allowed in my room.
I am sorry Mommy.
Daddy is kneeling next to her. He is quiet. Daddy never cries. He is very strong. Mommy is sad and cries. But Daddy understands Mommy even though he doesn’t cry. They are both sad. I wish I could make them happy. I wish I could tell them sorry. Sorry makes things better.
I am sorry Mommy.
I cannot talk to Mommy. They say I can’t. She cannot hear me. She is too sad. So I just sit here and say sorry. If I say it enough maybe the feeling will float to them. And then they will be happy. And then Mommy will stop crying.
I am sorry Mommy.
Daddy cannot hear me too. He is too sad like Mommy. I am sorry Daddy. Am I a bad person? Daddy cannot see me. He can only stare at the stone wall. Or only stare at Mommy crying. Daddy cannot talk to me. I am sorry Daddy. Daddy doesn’t cry like Mommy. He is very strong.
I am sorry Mommy.
Daddy and Mommy hug more often than before. They hug tighter than before. And Mommy cries. Daddy’s shirt gets all wet. But Mommy is mad too. Mommy is mad at Daddy. She sometimes yells at Daddy when they are hugging. And hits Daddy in the chest. But Daddy is strong so it doesn’t hurt. Daddy understands Mommy. They are both sad. But Mommy is mad at Daddy. It was Daddy’s gun.
I am sorry Mommy.
Daddy is mad too. Daddy’s mad at Daddy. When Daddy’s not quiet, Daddy talks to Daddy. “I should have taught him right. Should have told him guns are bad. Should have hid it in a better place. ” Mommy just nods with her face in Daddy’s shirt. Mommy just cries more.
I am sorry Mommy.
Daddy said he bought the gun for protection. It is to protect us from bad people, like how police people do. But bad people use guns too. Am I a bad person Daddy? Daddy let me touch it and it was nice. I want a gun too. I want to be like Daddy. I want a gun. But Mommy doesn’t like guns.
I am sorry Mommy.
Aunty Maggy came yesterday. I don’t like Aunty Maggy. She always yells at Mommy. Mommy cries when Daddy’s not there. Daddy doesn’t know Mommy cries. Only I hear Mommy cry. Aunty Maggy is mean. She tells Mommy bad stuff. She should say she is sorry. But Aunty Maggy is a bad person. A bad person that makes Mommy sad. I don’t like Aunty Maggy. I hug Mommy and say I am sorry. Mommy says she’s okay. But she is sad. She says to be a good boy and don’t tell Daddy. I am a good boy. I don’t tell Daddy. But I don’t like Aunty Maggy.
I am sorry Mommy.
Aunty Maggy came yesterday. She came into my old room. I don’t like Aunty Maggy. So I make a mean face at her. Her eyes get really big. Aunty Maggy starts screaming for Daddy. I am a good boy. The gun is for protection. If I have a gun, Mommy will be protected from bad people. From Aunty Maggy. Mommy won’t be sad anymore. Daddy doesn’t know Mommy is sad. He cannot protect Mommy. The gun is heavy and cold and nice. I am a good boy. Aunty Maggy keeps screaming. And then…BANG…Daddy and Mommy come running.
I am sorry Mommy.
I want to hug you now Mommy. And say sorry. But they said that I have to go see God soon. Please don’t cry Mommy. Thank you for visiting me Mommy. I like the flowers. I want you to be happy Mommy. And Daddy too. Please be happy. Mommy don’t cry.
I am sorry Mommy.
Aunty Maggy came yesterday. And they found the body.
I am sorry Mommy.
Am I a bad person Mommy? I don’t want to be in here Mommy. I want to come home. It is cold and dark and small here. I don’t want to see God. I want you to stop crying. Mommy please be happy. Don’t cry anymore Mommy. They put me here because I had Daddy’s gun. I am sorry Mommy. I won’t take Daddy’s gun again. Please Mommy, can I come home?
I am sorry Mommy.
They won’t let me out of this room. They say I cannot come home Mommy. They say I cannot hug you.
I am sorry Mommy.
I don’t want to see God. I just want to hug Mommy. Hug Daddy. Please don’t take me away.
I am sorry Mommy.
They say it’s time to say goodbye. God is waiting for me. I cannot hug you Mommy. I cannot say I am sorry. I just can love you Mommy. And Daddy too.
I am sorry Mommy.
Goodbye Mommy.
I am sorry Mommy.
Goodbye Daddy.
I am sorry Mommy.
I love you.
I am sorry Mommy.
There is a gate you have to pass before going to meet God. They tell me to say why I am here. Who I am. And how old I am. A man with a paper tells me what to say. “I am here for firing a gun. I am the son of Jake and Michelle Kelly. I am two years old.”
I am sorry Mommy. I love you.
I am sorry Mommy.
Daddy is kneeling next to her. He is quiet. Daddy never cries. He is very strong. Mommy is sad and cries. But Daddy understands Mommy even though he doesn’t cry. They are both sad. I wish I could make them happy. I wish I could tell them sorry. Sorry makes things better.
I am sorry Mommy.
I cannot talk to Mommy. They say I can’t. She cannot hear me. She is too sad. So I just sit here and say sorry. If I say it enough maybe the feeling will float to them. And then they will be happy. And then Mommy will stop crying.
I am sorry Mommy.
Daddy cannot hear me too. He is too sad like Mommy. I am sorry Daddy. Am I a bad person? Daddy cannot see me. He can only stare at the stone wall. Or only stare at Mommy crying. Daddy cannot talk to me. I am sorry Daddy. Daddy doesn’t cry like Mommy. He is very strong.
I am sorry Mommy.
Daddy and Mommy hug more often than before. They hug tighter than before. And Mommy cries. Daddy’s shirt gets all wet. But Mommy is mad too. Mommy is mad at Daddy. She sometimes yells at Daddy when they are hugging. And hits Daddy in the chest. But Daddy is strong so it doesn’t hurt. Daddy understands Mommy. They are both sad. But Mommy is mad at Daddy. It was Daddy’s gun.
I am sorry Mommy.
Daddy is mad too. Daddy’s mad at Daddy. When Daddy’s not quiet, Daddy talks to Daddy. “I should have taught him right. Should have told him guns are bad. Should have hid it in a better place. ” Mommy just nods with her face in Daddy’s shirt. Mommy just cries more.
I am sorry Mommy.
Daddy said he bought the gun for protection. It is to protect us from bad people, like how police people do. But bad people use guns too. Am I a bad person Daddy? Daddy let me touch it and it was nice. I want a gun too. I want to be like Daddy. I want a gun. But Mommy doesn’t like guns.
I am sorry Mommy.
Aunty Maggy came yesterday. I don’t like Aunty Maggy. She always yells at Mommy. Mommy cries when Daddy’s not there. Daddy doesn’t know Mommy cries. Only I hear Mommy cry. Aunty Maggy is mean. She tells Mommy bad stuff. She should say she is sorry. But Aunty Maggy is a bad person. A bad person that makes Mommy sad. I don’t like Aunty Maggy. I hug Mommy and say I am sorry. Mommy says she’s okay. But she is sad. She says to be a good boy and don’t tell Daddy. I am a good boy. I don’t tell Daddy. But I don’t like Aunty Maggy.
I am sorry Mommy.
Aunty Maggy came yesterday. She came into my old room. I don’t like Aunty Maggy. So I make a mean face at her. Her eyes get really big. Aunty Maggy starts screaming for Daddy. I am a good boy. The gun is for protection. If I have a gun, Mommy will be protected from bad people. From Aunty Maggy. Mommy won’t be sad anymore. Daddy doesn’t know Mommy is sad. He cannot protect Mommy. The gun is heavy and cold and nice. I am a good boy. Aunty Maggy keeps screaming. And then…BANG…Daddy and Mommy come running.
I am sorry Mommy.
I want to hug you now Mommy. And say sorry. But they said that I have to go see God soon. Please don’t cry Mommy. Thank you for visiting me Mommy. I like the flowers. I want you to be happy Mommy. And Daddy too. Please be happy. Mommy don’t cry.
I am sorry Mommy.
Aunty Maggy came yesterday. And they found the body.
I am sorry Mommy.
Am I a bad person Mommy? I don’t want to be in here Mommy. I want to come home. It is cold and dark and small here. I don’t want to see God. I want you to stop crying. Mommy please be happy. Don’t cry anymore Mommy. They put me here because I had Daddy’s gun. I am sorry Mommy. I won’t take Daddy’s gun again. Please Mommy, can I come home?
I am sorry Mommy.
They won’t let me out of this room. They say I cannot come home Mommy. They say I cannot hug you.
I am sorry Mommy.
I don’t want to see God. I just want to hug Mommy. Hug Daddy. Please don’t take me away.
I am sorry Mommy.
They say it’s time to say goodbye. God is waiting for me. I cannot hug you Mommy. I cannot say I am sorry. I just can love you Mommy. And Daddy too.
I am sorry Mommy.
Goodbye Mommy.
I am sorry Mommy.
Goodbye Daddy.
I am sorry Mommy.
I love you.
I am sorry Mommy.
There is a gate you have to pass before going to meet God. They tell me to say why I am here. Who I am. And how old I am. A man with a paper tells me what to say. “I am here for firing a gun. I am the son of Jake and Michelle Kelly. I am two years old.”
I am sorry Mommy. I love you.
That B****
Sure, she’s my grandmother, but that doesn't mean she has the right to be a bitch. Every time we go to the care home, all she does is bitch and moan. I know she’s faking it. Faking being sick. Faking her cough just to get some God damn attention. That bitch.
The other day she tells my grandfather over the phone that she is sick and needs special medicine. It’s not just any kind of medicine. Only this specific one will work. Just this one. What the fuck?! The care home is a fucking hospital! How the heck can she not get the medication through the hospital? What the fuck are we paying these people for? That bitch.
My grandfather was actually sick himself that day so he couldn’t enter the care facility. Old people can easily catch diseases and die I guess. It was my duty as the obedient granddaughter to go take her the medicine. To go hunting for this God damn medicine that I don’t even know if it exists or not. Why? Because I love my grandfather. I don’t want him to have to search the planet to find this possibly made-up piece of crap. I don’t want him to get into trouble because he tries to “sneak” in to the care home and risks accidentally killing someone. I say “sneak” because he can barely walk at his age. Yet, against this natural impediment he just has to visit my grandmother every freaken day. He has to. Or else she will start complaining to the nurses more. If he can’t come by the time she wakes up, she suddenly gets all needy and becomes the tyrannical bitch of the whole place. I feel sorry for the staff. That bitch.
Why does my grandfather love this bitch so unconditionally? I don’t know how he fell in love with her. I know, I know. I should be grateful. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have been born. Yes, yada yada. I have to love her, she’s my grandmother. But does that mean that my grandmother can take my grandfather’s love for granted? Does that mean she can be bossy and get whatever the heck she wants whenever the heck she wants it? That bitch.
Anyway, I got to the care home and put the medicine in my bag and out of sight. I was going to do a little experiment…I went over to my grandmother’s room and pretended that I had come of my own accord and had no idea about the conversation she had had with my grandfather. She said she was grateful that I came to visit her. That I was the most wonderful granddaughter. She began to complain about how my grandfather only cares about himself and doesn’t care about little old her. I wanted to slap her. But other than complaining about the hospital staff, she seemed fine. That bitch.
I went to see my grandmother this morning. She had asked for me. I’m surprised she didn’t ask for my grandfather. When I get there and seat myself near beside her bed
she asks me to hold her hand. I lean over and give grab the feeble hand that could barely lift off on the bed. She looks me long and hard in the eyes and tells me that I’m the best granddaughter in the world. I’m so nice. I take care of her and read to her. And visit her. She wants to give me something, she says. Come visit me tomorrow. She says it’s something very important. Okay, grandmother, I say. I’ll come tomorrow. Then I told her to get some rest. She held my hand for a while longer and looked at me with soft eyes. Then she lay back and fell asleep.
I found out later that she had died after I left. I found out later that she had left me the necklace her mother had given her…………That bitch………
The other day she tells my grandfather over the phone that she is sick and needs special medicine. It’s not just any kind of medicine. Only this specific one will work. Just this one. What the fuck?! The care home is a fucking hospital! How the heck can she not get the medication through the hospital? What the fuck are we paying these people for? That bitch.
My grandfather was actually sick himself that day so he couldn’t enter the care facility. Old people can easily catch diseases and die I guess. It was my duty as the obedient granddaughter to go take her the medicine. To go hunting for this God damn medicine that I don’t even know if it exists or not. Why? Because I love my grandfather. I don’t want him to have to search the planet to find this possibly made-up piece of crap. I don’t want him to get into trouble because he tries to “sneak” in to the care home and risks accidentally killing someone. I say “sneak” because he can barely walk at his age. Yet, against this natural impediment he just has to visit my grandmother every freaken day. He has to. Or else she will start complaining to the nurses more. If he can’t come by the time she wakes up, she suddenly gets all needy and becomes the tyrannical bitch of the whole place. I feel sorry for the staff. That bitch.
Why does my grandfather love this bitch so unconditionally? I don’t know how he fell in love with her. I know, I know. I should be grateful. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have been born. Yes, yada yada. I have to love her, she’s my grandmother. But does that mean that my grandmother can take my grandfather’s love for granted? Does that mean she can be bossy and get whatever the heck she wants whenever the heck she wants it? That bitch.
Anyway, I got to the care home and put the medicine in my bag and out of sight. I was going to do a little experiment…I went over to my grandmother’s room and pretended that I had come of my own accord and had no idea about the conversation she had had with my grandfather. She said she was grateful that I came to visit her. That I was the most wonderful granddaughter. She began to complain about how my grandfather only cares about himself and doesn’t care about little old her. I wanted to slap her. But other than complaining about the hospital staff, she seemed fine. That bitch.
I went to see my grandmother this morning. She had asked for me. I’m surprised she didn’t ask for my grandfather. When I get there and seat myself near beside her bed
she asks me to hold her hand. I lean over and give grab the feeble hand that could barely lift off on the bed. She looks me long and hard in the eyes and tells me that I’m the best granddaughter in the world. I’m so nice. I take care of her and read to her. And visit her. She wants to give me something, she says. Come visit me tomorrow. She says it’s something very important. Okay, grandmother, I say. I’ll come tomorrow. Then I told her to get some rest. She held my hand for a while longer and looked at me with soft eyes. Then she lay back and fell asleep.
I found out later that she had died after I left. I found out later that she had left me the necklace her mother had given her…………That bitch………
320 Words of Undying Love
She hated cats. She hated kids. She hated lemon marmalade. She hated rain. She hated grapefruit. She hated roosters in the morning. She hated running. She hated pillows. She hated sales of things that neared their date. She hated women gossiping by the church on the Sundays that she went.
She hated waiting for the bathroom. She hated driving past an hour. She hated people that paid no heed to the red octagonal sign. She hated watching television at a quarter after one. She hated marshmallows burnt like they were birthed right from the sun. She hated sleeping in her lonely one-bedroom apartment when the lights had gone. She hated waking up too early for her awesome boring job.
She hated lakes. She hated farms. She hated carnival rides and games. She hated how they’d known each other since some forgotten age. She hated the crooked paper heart he’d made sometime in kindergarten. She hated holding hands with him for the whole trip to the zoo. She hated their first movie alone together when they hit the seventh grade. She hated their first kiss as she achieved official teen. She hated going on long walks. She hated taking in the breeze. She hated how he’d get her gifts just to see her smile. She hated going on dates to places that never seemed worthwhile. She hated crying while he was on a trip to somewhere overseas. She hated that they still knew each other after all this time. She hated that he’d asked for her hand with no forewarning whatsoever.
She hated the nature in which she walked. She hated the stupid way she talked. She hated the reflection in the mirror. She hated making hard decisions. She hated how every time she’d made one, it was always the wrong one. She hated rationality. She hated her emotions. She just hated life in general. Everything. Everyone. But I loved her.
She hated waiting for the bathroom. She hated driving past an hour. She hated people that paid no heed to the red octagonal sign. She hated watching television at a quarter after one. She hated marshmallows burnt like they were birthed right from the sun. She hated sleeping in her lonely one-bedroom apartment when the lights had gone. She hated waking up too early for her awesome boring job.
She hated lakes. She hated farms. She hated carnival rides and games. She hated how they’d known each other since some forgotten age. She hated the crooked paper heart he’d made sometime in kindergarten. She hated holding hands with him for the whole trip to the zoo. She hated their first movie alone together when they hit the seventh grade. She hated their first kiss as she achieved official teen. She hated going on long walks. She hated taking in the breeze. She hated how he’d get her gifts just to see her smile. She hated going on dates to places that never seemed worthwhile. She hated crying while he was on a trip to somewhere overseas. She hated that they still knew each other after all this time. She hated that he’d asked for her hand with no forewarning whatsoever.
She hated the nature in which she walked. She hated the stupid way she talked. She hated the reflection in the mirror. She hated making hard decisions. She hated how every time she’d made one, it was always the wrong one. She hated rationality. She hated her emotions. She just hated life in general. Everything. Everyone. But I loved her.
How to Play Catan
How to Play Catan
--
Welcome, you must be here for the games workshop. I'll need you to sign this release form. What did you say your name was? Oh, ok. Here's your nametag, place it so everyone else can see it, and then right through the door. It's dangerous out there what with the stampede of people, so take this map - it'll save you time in trying to find the workshops you're here for - if you have spare time, I'd recommend the Settlers of Catan workshop over in the corner room, it's always a hit every year. Again, welcome to the 20th annual Games Workshop in Duluth...
--
You arrive at the middle of the ballroom. Three halls extend in front of you, to the North, East and West.
>Read Map
The Settlers of Catan workshop is scheduled for now, and can be found to the North.
>North
You head North past the various booths and spectators to the corner room.
--
Welcome to this year's Catan workshop where the topic is "Advanced Opening Moves". Before we start, does anyone not know how to play Catan? Eh, you? Okay, here's a quick overview - We have a hex map randomly generated with tiles and numbers. In the "Initalization Round", we go around the table to place our first two settlements and roads - clockwise first to place one settlement and road, then at the last player we go counterclockwise and place the second settlement and road. All the settlements go on the corner of three hexes, and the roads go along the edges of the two hexes. Remember, the second settlement you place will get resources from all the hexes next to it, and only hexes with numbers will produce resources. Don't worry about the ocean, it does nothing.
Now the first player rolls the two die - see all the hexes with the same number as the dice? We generate resources from them. There are five resources - Wood, Clay, Wheat, Sheep, and Ore. You'll use them to build roads, settlements, cities, and buy development cards. As long as you have a settlement next to a resource that has it's number rolled, you'll get one of that resource. Cities produce two resources, which makes them valuable to keep your stockpiles high.
You might be wondering - what's the point of the game? I'm glad you asked - your goal is to produce 10 points, which you get from building settlements, cities, playing victory point cards, having the longest road with a minimum length of five roads connected making a path or the biggest army with a minimum of three soldiers. Since you'll need resources to build structures to win, a good early goal is to build another settlement, or possibly build a city. See your second settlement you placed? It's next to two ore and one wheat, which means you have two ore and one wheat resource cards. Since you need three ore and two wheat to build a city, you're over half way to your goal - and the first player rolled a 6, the same number on that ore, so you get one more ore. We watch him as he builds a road - roads cost one wood and one clay, and he passes on the dice to the next player. Keep watching, don't lose focus yet...
It's your turn! You've accumulated another wheat, so now you have the resources needed to make a city - give your resource cards to the bank and then place your city on the board where a settlement once was. Let's place it at the two ore and one wheat settlement - it'll help you to build a second city quickly. Take back your settlement, and place the city - because you built your city, you can build another settlement with the marker you gained back. Let's look at the other things you can build: we've already seen the road, with it's cost of one wood and one clay, you'll need it to expand as each settlement must be connected to a road and also to get the "Longest Road" title for two victory points. The settlement - costing one wood, one clay, one wheat and one sheep, it produces one resource whenever a hex touching it is rolled. One note about settlements - they need to have at least one empty space between it and another settlement on all sides, so you can't place settlements too close to each other. The city costs three ore and two wheat, you've seen it already. Finally, we have the "Development Card" - a Monopoly "Chance Card" you can buy.
There are x flavors of cards - the Soldier card, the Victory Point card, the Year of Plenty card, the Road Building card and the Monopoly card, in order from least to most scarce. The Soldier card allows you to move the robber - I'll get to that later. The Victory Point card allows you to gain one Victory Point, the Year of Plenty Card allows you to take two resources of any type from the bank - good for when you need that one resource you can't get to finish your settlement. The Road Building card allows you to build up to two free roads, as long as you have markers for it - there are only 15 road markers per player. The Monopoly Card allows you to choose one resource and take all of that type of resource from any player - good for stealing some twenty plus resources from all other players in a big game and making that last push to win. See this player? He's about to play his Monopoly card for sheep, taking five, six, seven, eight sheep from all other players on the board. Fortunately or unfortunately for you, you have no sheep for him to steal. Go ahead, call him a "Kiwi." It'll make you feel better, knowing he's into beastiality. One more note - only one Development Card can be played during your turn, unless it's a Victory Point card which as many Victory Point cards can be played during your turn.
Oh look, he wants to trade his sheep back to their rightful owners after devirginizing them. What a guy. In Settlers of Catan you can trade resources between players in order to get what you need - if you need clay, you can trade your ore to a willing player for clay. Otherwise you can trade to the bank at a ratio of four of your resources to one of what you need, or you can build a settlement at a port to trade to the bank at a lower cost. In order to take a port, you must build a settlement at the edge of the island - you'll have to give up either one or two possible resource hexes in order to gain the port, but you can either trade any good at a ratio of three to one at the ports with the question mark, or you can trade two of a certain good for one of another at the ports marked with the symbol for a certain resource. Let's refuse his offer for now, sheep are no longer lambs after they've been "played with" in the countryside. And what we really want are lamb chops to impress that little lady over there in the corner to get some action later tonight...
Ah. Someone rolled a seven, how nice. Notice that there are no sevens on the board? That's because the robber take his orders whenever a seven is rolled, moving from his desert square to another hex. The robber allows the player to steal one resource from one player, randomly chosen, and denies any resources from being produced by neighboring settlements and cities. This allows you to stop players from getting resources they need to slow down their growth, possibly multiple players that have all built settlements around a single hex. The final effect of the robber causes certain people to lose half of their resources if they're above a certain limit of resources, usually seven resources for a small map, and 9 resources for a large map. A nice seven roll would be cutting the leaders resources in half - it's a good reason to limit the growth of your settlements, because more people in a game means a greater chance of someone rolling a seven and destroying your resources. Remember the Soldier card? It allows you to move the robber, allowing you to get the robber away from you and next to another person, possibly to get back against others for moving the robber next to you. If you roll a seven and play a soldier card, you can get two resources from a person and place the robber twice, whereever you want. Remember, if a player has no resources, you can't steal anything, but it might be worth it to stop them from rolling a lucky nine with three cities around it - then that guy would have six sheep, the Kiwi. Is it better to take one resource, or to stop them from taking six? It's up to you. Also, the Largest Army title takes a minimum of three soldiers and provides two points, so you might want to build a few soldiers of your own to make the points.
--
You now know everything you need to know to win the game - at least the basics. Let's get back to the main point of the workshop though - "Advanced Opening Moves". You'll notice that as people place their settlements during the Initialization Round, the better spots are being taken - you know, the places with hexes of number 5-9. You have a couple of choices here - you can try to take good places for resources to deny the spots to others, or you can hope that they move somewhere else. The second settlement is important as it gives you resources - you're able to build a road or a Development Card right off the beginning if you choose a place allowing you to get the resources needed. This may or may not apply to your strategy for what you want to do - with a clay and wood you can set up a road for your third settlement right away, or you can place by two ore and one wheat like you did to build a city. You can apply a "breadth" or "depth" strategy to rolling resources - your settlements can be spread across all the resources and numbers so you have a chance of always rolling a resource every turn for "breadth", or you can focus around a couple of high rolling numbers in order to gain lots of resources in one turn, a "depth" focus. You might also want to build between people to stop them from building longest road, or try to build longest road yourself in order cut off area to build for other players. Think of it as "Area Denial" - people can deny others from building around certain points with roads and settlements. Or think of light cycles from TRON - simply trap your opponent in a area and choke their growth.
That covers the end of our workshop time - we've got a few rounds of Catan going on in the room and a tournament. If you win, you'll get a fluffy sheep to hold and to love - you Kiwi.
--
END (11:51PM)
--
Welcome, you must be here for the games workshop. I'll need you to sign this release form. What did you say your name was? Oh, ok. Here's your nametag, place it so everyone else can see it, and then right through the door. It's dangerous out there what with the stampede of people, so take this map - it'll save you time in trying to find the workshops you're here for - if you have spare time, I'd recommend the Settlers of Catan workshop over in the corner room, it's always a hit every year. Again, welcome to the 20th annual Games Workshop in Duluth...
--
You arrive at the middle of the ballroom. Three halls extend in front of you, to the North, East and West.
>Read Map
The Settlers of Catan workshop is scheduled for now, and can be found to the North.
>North
You head North past the various booths and spectators to the corner room.
--
Welcome to this year's Catan workshop where the topic is "Advanced Opening Moves". Before we start, does anyone not know how to play Catan? Eh, you? Okay, here's a quick overview - We have a hex map randomly generated with tiles and numbers. In the "Initalization Round", we go around the table to place our first two settlements and roads - clockwise first to place one settlement and road, then at the last player we go counterclockwise and place the second settlement and road. All the settlements go on the corner of three hexes, and the roads go along the edges of the two hexes. Remember, the second settlement you place will get resources from all the hexes next to it, and only hexes with numbers will produce resources. Don't worry about the ocean, it does nothing.
Now the first player rolls the two die - see all the hexes with the same number as the dice? We generate resources from them. There are five resources - Wood, Clay, Wheat, Sheep, and Ore. You'll use them to build roads, settlements, cities, and buy development cards. As long as you have a settlement next to a resource that has it's number rolled, you'll get one of that resource. Cities produce two resources, which makes them valuable to keep your stockpiles high.
You might be wondering - what's the point of the game? I'm glad you asked - your goal is to produce 10 points, which you get from building settlements, cities, playing victory point cards, having the longest road with a minimum length of five roads connected making a path or the biggest army with a minimum of three soldiers. Since you'll need resources to build structures to win, a good early goal is to build another settlement, or possibly build a city. See your second settlement you placed? It's next to two ore and one wheat, which means you have two ore and one wheat resource cards. Since you need three ore and two wheat to build a city, you're over half way to your goal - and the first player rolled a 6, the same number on that ore, so you get one more ore. We watch him as he builds a road - roads cost one wood and one clay, and he passes on the dice to the next player. Keep watching, don't lose focus yet...
It's your turn! You've accumulated another wheat, so now you have the resources needed to make a city - give your resource cards to the bank and then place your city on the board where a settlement once was. Let's place it at the two ore and one wheat settlement - it'll help you to build a second city quickly. Take back your settlement, and place the city - because you built your city, you can build another settlement with the marker you gained back. Let's look at the other things you can build: we've already seen the road, with it's cost of one wood and one clay, you'll need it to expand as each settlement must be connected to a road and also to get the "Longest Road" title for two victory points. The settlement - costing one wood, one clay, one wheat and one sheep, it produces one resource whenever a hex touching it is rolled. One note about settlements - they need to have at least one empty space between it and another settlement on all sides, so you can't place settlements too close to each other. The city costs three ore and two wheat, you've seen it already. Finally, we have the "Development Card" - a Monopoly "Chance Card" you can buy.
There are x flavors of cards - the Soldier card, the Victory Point card, the Year of Plenty card, the Road Building card and the Monopoly card, in order from least to most scarce. The Soldier card allows you to move the robber - I'll get to that later. The Victory Point card allows you to gain one Victory Point, the Year of Plenty Card allows you to take two resources of any type from the bank - good for when you need that one resource you can't get to finish your settlement. The Road Building card allows you to build up to two free roads, as long as you have markers for it - there are only 15 road markers per player. The Monopoly Card allows you to choose one resource and take all of that type of resource from any player - good for stealing some twenty plus resources from all other players in a big game and making that last push to win. See this player? He's about to play his Monopoly card for sheep, taking five, six, seven, eight sheep from all other players on the board. Fortunately or unfortunately for you, you have no sheep for him to steal. Go ahead, call him a "Kiwi." It'll make you feel better, knowing he's into beastiality. One more note - only one Development Card can be played during your turn, unless it's a Victory Point card which as many Victory Point cards can be played during your turn.
Oh look, he wants to trade his sheep back to their rightful owners after devirginizing them. What a guy. In Settlers of Catan you can trade resources between players in order to get what you need - if you need clay, you can trade your ore to a willing player for clay. Otherwise you can trade to the bank at a ratio of four of your resources to one of what you need, or you can build a settlement at a port to trade to the bank at a lower cost. In order to take a port, you must build a settlement at the edge of the island - you'll have to give up either one or two possible resource hexes in order to gain the port, but you can either trade any good at a ratio of three to one at the ports with the question mark, or you can trade two of a certain good for one of another at the ports marked with the symbol for a certain resource. Let's refuse his offer for now, sheep are no longer lambs after they've been "played with" in the countryside. And what we really want are lamb chops to impress that little lady over there in the corner to get some action later tonight...
Ah. Someone rolled a seven, how nice. Notice that there are no sevens on the board? That's because the robber take his orders whenever a seven is rolled, moving from his desert square to another hex. The robber allows the player to steal one resource from one player, randomly chosen, and denies any resources from being produced by neighboring settlements and cities. This allows you to stop players from getting resources they need to slow down their growth, possibly multiple players that have all built settlements around a single hex. The final effect of the robber causes certain people to lose half of their resources if they're above a certain limit of resources, usually seven resources for a small map, and 9 resources for a large map. A nice seven roll would be cutting the leaders resources in half - it's a good reason to limit the growth of your settlements, because more people in a game means a greater chance of someone rolling a seven and destroying your resources. Remember the Soldier card? It allows you to move the robber, allowing you to get the robber away from you and next to another person, possibly to get back against others for moving the robber next to you. If you roll a seven and play a soldier card, you can get two resources from a person and place the robber twice, whereever you want. Remember, if a player has no resources, you can't steal anything, but it might be worth it to stop them from rolling a lucky nine with three cities around it - then that guy would have six sheep, the Kiwi. Is it better to take one resource, or to stop them from taking six? It's up to you. Also, the Largest Army title takes a minimum of three soldiers and provides two points, so you might want to build a few soldiers of your own to make the points.
--
You now know everything you need to know to win the game - at least the basics. Let's get back to the main point of the workshop though - "Advanced Opening Moves". You'll notice that as people place their settlements during the Initialization Round, the better spots are being taken - you know, the places with hexes of number 5-9. You have a couple of choices here - you can try to take good places for resources to deny the spots to others, or you can hope that they move somewhere else. The second settlement is important as it gives you resources - you're able to build a road or a Development Card right off the beginning if you choose a place allowing you to get the resources needed. This may or may not apply to your strategy for what you want to do - with a clay and wood you can set up a road for your third settlement right away, or you can place by two ore and one wheat like you did to build a city. You can apply a "breadth" or "depth" strategy to rolling resources - your settlements can be spread across all the resources and numbers so you have a chance of always rolling a resource every turn for "breadth", or you can focus around a couple of high rolling numbers in order to gain lots of resources in one turn, a "depth" focus. You might also want to build between people to stop them from building longest road, or try to build longest road yourself in order cut off area to build for other players. Think of it as "Area Denial" - people can deny others from building around certain points with roads and settlements. Or think of light cycles from TRON - simply trap your opponent in a area and choke their growth.
That covers the end of our workshop time - we've got a few rounds of Catan going on in the room and a tournament. If you win, you'll get a fluffy sheep to hold and to love - you Kiwi.
--
END (11:51PM)
Vinnie Vidi Vici
Twiddling his thumbs, the boy sat on the lunch table glancing occasionally at the girl on the table to the left. She was a hottie and he knew it. But deep in his stomach he had a feeling that she was in a class of her own. A class that was too high for a normal like himself to reach. Again he glanced over at her but this time his friend caught a glimpse of him doing so.
“Why don’t you go over there and talk to her?” asked the friend. “She isn’t going to bite you. Though she may give you the eye. Or she may agknowledge that you exsist and have a normal conversation with her.”
“Man I don’t know if that is ok,” said Tyler. “She may just ignore me or worse yet she may even blow me off. . .”
“Tyler, does she even know if you are alive?” asked Joe. “Well I man, I don’t know about that. I mean that she has let me borrow her eraser before. But other than that, I am not so sure if I can say that I am on her radar.”
“You know what let’s go and have her notice you today.” Joe gave Tyler a shove and booted him off of their bench. Giving him the stern look of an older brother, he said, “I am not letting you back on this bench until you go and talk to her.”
“Fine. But don’t get mad if I get blown off.”
“Just remember all it’s all about having confidence,” said Joe with a wink.
“Gulp. If you say so,” said Tyler as he gather his courage. He let out a sigh and began to advance toward the girl who was sitting on the table next to theirs.
Every step that he took made his heart beat a little faster. His breath increased as he felt his palms sweat. His chest tightened. There seemed to be butterflies in his stomach and his thoughts started to swirl. Adrenaline had finally begun to flow though his system letting him know that his fight or flight mechanism had kicked in.
Catching himself as he felt his feet turning around, Tyler thought to himself. No not this time. This time I will not run away and I will talk to her like a normal person does. He turned his feet back forward and straitened his shoulders and proceeded on his journey into the unknown.
At last he had arrived at the table. Tyler took in a deep breath and readied himself for the worst. “Hey there, I couldn’t help but wonder is that Japanese that you are working on,” said Tyler as he tried to improvise on the spot.
“Yeah,” said the girl who looked up and had a look of surprise on her face.
Seeing the surprise on her face caught Tyler off guard. He was expecting a more of something that resembled a snob of the cold shoulder if anything else. Feeling the momentum shift to his favor, Tyler continued on with more conviction than before. “I am not sure but if you need help with that I wouldn’t mind doing so,” said Tyler who sat down across of the girl.
“S-sure. You don’t seem to be a bad guy. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have some help,” said the girl trying to recover her composure. Seeming a bit less flustered, she stared at the Japanese book and she said,” And I remember you having one of the better grades in our class.”
“You actually remember me from our class?” asked Tyler who was now the flustered one.
“Yes. You were the guy that I loaned my eraser to. Right?” said the girl who was still looking at the book.
“So you do remember me? Well. Hmm,” said Tyler as he put on a face of concentration. God I hope that Joe has something up his sleeve. I don’t know how much longer I can handle this.
Across the way, his friend, Joe, could feel that Tyler was hitting a wall. He could see it in his face. His friend was running out of words to say. However, the girl was acting a bit odd from how Tyler had described her. She hasn’t looked at him since they started to talk a few minutes ago. After a closer examination, he could see that she was trying to hide her face. And it was for a good reason. Joe ran his hand through his hair and said, “Interesting. This is turning out a bit different than I had expected. I know that you are screaming in your head to bail you out but I have a feeling that you got it.”
Reaching into his pocket, Tyler pulled out the eraser that was handed to him yesterday. “Oh, before I forget, I would like to give this back to you,” said Tyler as he handed her the eraser back.
Raising her head, she gave him a smile took the eraser and said, “Thanks.”
An hour had passed and Joe was now long gone. Tyler felt his heart beginning to race again. “Umm, could I ask you a question?”
The girl put her pencil down and turned to Tyler with an inquisitive look on her face. “Sure. But first I have a question for you,” said the girl who then stuck out her tongue.
“Uhh. OK. What is it?”
“Your name was Tyler. Right?”
Tyler’s heart skipped a beat and he gave her a dumbfounded look. “Y-yeah it is. But how. . .”
She then gave him a gentle smile and asked for his phone. Once she had it, she turned around and fiddled around with it.
What the hell is she doing?
After a bit she turned around giggling and gave the phone back to him.
“What did you do to my phone?” asked Tyler.
“Oh nothing. Just a little something,” said the girl as she started to stand up. “By the way my name is Cassandra.” She left him on that note, stunned yet happy.
As he was packing up his things, he got a text message. It read, I hope you give me a call later.
Staring at his phone, he couldn’t help but laugh. How the hell am I going to call you back if I don’t even have your number. Unless. . .
He busted out his phone and began to search through the contacts list. And sure enough, her number was staring him right in the face.
Man what should I do now?
“Why don’t you go over there and talk to her?” asked the friend. “She isn’t going to bite you. Though she may give you the eye. Or she may agknowledge that you exsist and have a normal conversation with her.”
“Man I don’t know if that is ok,” said Tyler. “She may just ignore me or worse yet she may even blow me off. . .”
“Tyler, does she even know if you are alive?” asked Joe. “Well I man, I don’t know about that. I mean that she has let me borrow her eraser before. But other than that, I am not so sure if I can say that I am on her radar.”
“You know what let’s go and have her notice you today.” Joe gave Tyler a shove and booted him off of their bench. Giving him the stern look of an older brother, he said, “I am not letting you back on this bench until you go and talk to her.”
“Fine. But don’t get mad if I get blown off.”
“Just remember all it’s all about having confidence,” said Joe with a wink.
“Gulp. If you say so,” said Tyler as he gather his courage. He let out a sigh and began to advance toward the girl who was sitting on the table next to theirs.
Every step that he took made his heart beat a little faster. His breath increased as he felt his palms sweat. His chest tightened. There seemed to be butterflies in his stomach and his thoughts started to swirl. Adrenaline had finally begun to flow though his system letting him know that his fight or flight mechanism had kicked in.
Catching himself as he felt his feet turning around, Tyler thought to himself. No not this time. This time I will not run away and I will talk to her like a normal person does. He turned his feet back forward and straitened his shoulders and proceeded on his journey into the unknown.
At last he had arrived at the table. Tyler took in a deep breath and readied himself for the worst. “Hey there, I couldn’t help but wonder is that Japanese that you are working on,” said Tyler as he tried to improvise on the spot.
“Yeah,” said the girl who looked up and had a look of surprise on her face.
Seeing the surprise on her face caught Tyler off guard. He was expecting a more of something that resembled a snob of the cold shoulder if anything else. Feeling the momentum shift to his favor, Tyler continued on with more conviction than before. “I am not sure but if you need help with that I wouldn’t mind doing so,” said Tyler who sat down across of the girl.
“S-sure. You don’t seem to be a bad guy. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have some help,” said the girl trying to recover her composure. Seeming a bit less flustered, she stared at the Japanese book and she said,” And I remember you having one of the better grades in our class.”
“You actually remember me from our class?” asked Tyler who was now the flustered one.
“Yes. You were the guy that I loaned my eraser to. Right?” said the girl who was still looking at the book.
“So you do remember me? Well. Hmm,” said Tyler as he put on a face of concentration. God I hope that Joe has something up his sleeve. I don’t know how much longer I can handle this.
Across the way, his friend, Joe, could feel that Tyler was hitting a wall. He could see it in his face. His friend was running out of words to say. However, the girl was acting a bit odd from how Tyler had described her. She hasn’t looked at him since they started to talk a few minutes ago. After a closer examination, he could see that she was trying to hide her face. And it was for a good reason. Joe ran his hand through his hair and said, “Interesting. This is turning out a bit different than I had expected. I know that you are screaming in your head to bail you out but I have a feeling that you got it.”
Reaching into his pocket, Tyler pulled out the eraser that was handed to him yesterday. “Oh, before I forget, I would like to give this back to you,” said Tyler as he handed her the eraser back.
Raising her head, she gave him a smile took the eraser and said, “Thanks.”
An hour had passed and Joe was now long gone. Tyler felt his heart beginning to race again. “Umm, could I ask you a question?”
The girl put her pencil down and turned to Tyler with an inquisitive look on her face. “Sure. But first I have a question for you,” said the girl who then stuck out her tongue.
“Uhh. OK. What is it?”
“Your name was Tyler. Right?”
Tyler’s heart skipped a beat and he gave her a dumbfounded look. “Y-yeah it is. But how. . .”
She then gave him a gentle smile and asked for his phone. Once she had it, she turned around and fiddled around with it.
What the hell is she doing?
After a bit she turned around giggling and gave the phone back to him.
“What did you do to my phone?” asked Tyler.
“Oh nothing. Just a little something,” said the girl as she started to stand up. “By the way my name is Cassandra.” She left him on that note, stunned yet happy.
As he was packing up his things, he got a text message. It read, I hope you give me a call later.
Staring at his phone, he couldn’t help but laugh. How the hell am I going to call you back if I don’t even have your number. Unless. . .
He busted out his phone and began to search through the contacts list. And sure enough, her number was staring him right in the face.
Man what should I do now?
Now that's some stong gel
Ring, Ring. Ring, Ring.
“Hey, this is Cobra. I have a new target for you.”
“Is that so. Fine, who is it.”
“It is Donald Trump.”
“What?! Come again.”
“You heard me right. I just said the target is Donald Trump.”
“Fine. . . However, I expect a higher pay.”
“Agreed. The target will be on the rooftop across from the hotel that you are at.”
“Rodger that. Over and out.”
The new dawn approached faster than he had expected. It was colder than he had originally expected. When he had awoken, frost covered his perch. “This sucks.” He felt like a pigeon as he waited on his roost. Waiting for his target to arrive.
A few hours had passed and his arms grew numb. Off in the distance, the sound of propellers echoed between the high risers. “Sheesh. Finally. That took a lot longer than I was told. The old man is going to get an earful when I get back.”
Around the corner of the building, the helicopter came. It came to hover over the building across from him, and finally settled on the giant H. The propellers slowed to a halt and the helicopter’s door slid open, and a graying head poked through the doorway.
The man’s finger rested lightly on the trigger as he peered through the scope waiting for his target to exit the copter. “The target has touched down and I am commencing the mission,” said the assassin as he repositioned himself for the kill. He let out a breath to stabilize himself and gradually squeezed the trigger. The man let out a smirk as his gun kicked against his shoulder.
The bullet spiraled out of the barrel and flew at its target with conviction. It seemed to take on a life of its own as its vapor trail snaked behind it. Since it was fired at a higher angle than the target, the bullet gradually gained speed as it approached the target. The graying hair was now only an arms length away. The bullet slammed intensely into the hair and. . . didn’t do a thing.
The assassin sat on the roof with his mouth hanging wide open. “How the hell did the bullet not kill him. It just smashed into his hair and fell to the floor. Is he wearing a helmet under his hair?” Flabergasted after his miss the assassin set up for another shot. However, as he was taking aim, the cold sensation of a steel barrel caressed the back of his head. “Shit,” said the assassin under his breath.
Around the downed Donald Trump, his men scurried trying to find the direction that the bullet had come from. “Sir, are you ok?” asked one of the bodyguards. He leaned over to help Donald Trump to his feet.
Throwing his shoulders back, Donald Trump let our a sigh. He looked around in a daze and noticed the men were in a state of chaos. “What is the matter with you men? Is there a fire or something?” The men only scurried around and didn’t reply. “Hey! I am talking to you!” The men stopped in their tracks and turned to Trump with dazed faces.
“Sir we were worried that you were dead,” said one of the bodyguards.
“By the way sir, how did you survive a direct hit to the head from a sniper round?”
“Actually I have no idea myself. But I did use the extra strength hair gel today.”
“Hey, this is Cobra. I have a new target for you.”
“Is that so. Fine, who is it.”
“It is Donald Trump.”
“What?! Come again.”
“You heard me right. I just said the target is Donald Trump.”
“Fine. . . However, I expect a higher pay.”
“Agreed. The target will be on the rooftop across from the hotel that you are at.”
“Rodger that. Over and out.”
The new dawn approached faster than he had expected. It was colder than he had originally expected. When he had awoken, frost covered his perch. “This sucks.” He felt like a pigeon as he waited on his roost. Waiting for his target to arrive.
A few hours had passed and his arms grew numb. Off in the distance, the sound of propellers echoed between the high risers. “Sheesh. Finally. That took a lot longer than I was told. The old man is going to get an earful when I get back.”
Around the corner of the building, the helicopter came. It came to hover over the building across from him, and finally settled on the giant H. The propellers slowed to a halt and the helicopter’s door slid open, and a graying head poked through the doorway.
The man’s finger rested lightly on the trigger as he peered through the scope waiting for his target to exit the copter. “The target has touched down and I am commencing the mission,” said the assassin as he repositioned himself for the kill. He let out a breath to stabilize himself and gradually squeezed the trigger. The man let out a smirk as his gun kicked against his shoulder.
The bullet spiraled out of the barrel and flew at its target with conviction. It seemed to take on a life of its own as its vapor trail snaked behind it. Since it was fired at a higher angle than the target, the bullet gradually gained speed as it approached the target. The graying hair was now only an arms length away. The bullet slammed intensely into the hair and. . . didn’t do a thing.
The assassin sat on the roof with his mouth hanging wide open. “How the hell did the bullet not kill him. It just smashed into his hair and fell to the floor. Is he wearing a helmet under his hair?” Flabergasted after his miss the assassin set up for another shot. However, as he was taking aim, the cold sensation of a steel barrel caressed the back of his head. “Shit,” said the assassin under his breath.
Around the downed Donald Trump, his men scurried trying to find the direction that the bullet had come from. “Sir, are you ok?” asked one of the bodyguards. He leaned over to help Donald Trump to his feet.
Throwing his shoulders back, Donald Trump let our a sigh. He looked around in a daze and noticed the men were in a state of chaos. “What is the matter with you men? Is there a fire or something?” The men only scurried around and didn’t reply. “Hey! I am talking to you!” The men stopped in their tracks and turned to Trump with dazed faces.
“Sir we were worried that you were dead,” said one of the bodyguards.
“By the way sir, how did you survive a direct hit to the head from a sniper round?”
“Actually I have no idea myself. But I did use the extra strength hair gel today.”
She loved him once. When nothing mattered. Talking on the phone till she ran out of minutes, holding hands on dates, kissing under the starry heavens, and getting hugs she wished would never end.
Shauna lived to run. She wasn‘t a great runner or anything, but not a day went by that she didn’t hit the track. She jogged till the sun went down, through the rain, on sprained ankles and sore feet. She reveled in knowing that her hard work today would make her stronger tomorrow. She wanted to be strong. And when she was too injured to run, she sat and contently watched the track team as they went through their practice, sprinting across the track, kicking up huge dust clouds. She wished she could be as strong as they were.
No one was faster or stronger than Rob. He was the star runner for track. He was still only a sophmore and still he had accomplished way more than Shauna could ever have hoped to manage. He was amazing. His body tanned from all the long summer practices, covered in lean, slender muscles. Not to mention he was tall and had a pretty cute butt to go with everything else.
Shaun and Rob had been in the same sports for the past two years, but they had never really had a chance to talk. He was shy she thought. Maybe when you’re that fast, everyone else just gets left in the dust.
One day before school, Shauna was on her ritual morning run, jogging before the sun had even peeked over the rooftops, listening to her ipod as she mindlessly jogged into the music. Something poked her in the shoulder. She spun around to see a hooded figure in the dim morning light, running beside her. “get away,” she screamed as she threw a punch and hit the weirdo right on the chin sending him crashing down onto the pavement clutching his bloodied nose. It was Rob.
“what are you doing scaring me like that?! I almost died!!” yelled Shauna.
“wow u hit like a man…” mumbled Rob as he got to his feet and wiped the blood on his sleeve.
“what?!” I mean, um, anyway I’m sorry I hit you., I thought you were like…”
“it’s okay. I’m fine” he said
“what were you doing sneaking up behind me anyway?”
“oh, uh, I saw you running and thought you might want some company and like maybe it would be better to have a guy around since it’s so deserted and all but yeah, I guess you don’t really need a guy to protect you.”
He smiled. He was so handsome, Shauna thought, even if his hair was a mess and some of the dried blood was smeared on his cheek. Why would Rob want to run with her? She was just average looking, slow, clumsy Shauna. There was no way he liked her or anything. But what if he did?
Rain started to gently caress Shauna’s face Rob grabbed her hand and the two of them ran for cover under a nearby tree. She felt so safe with Rob, as if nothing could ever hurt her. A smile spread across her face as she looked down in surprise to see their hands were still intertwined. She timidly looked up, almost afraid to see Rob’s disapproval of her clinging to his arm. His head turned away, searching through the sheet of rain for something to say. He turned his head back their eyes locked. Her cheeks started to heat up and she knew they were definitely turning a bright pink. She looked down at her feet. Suddenly she felt a tug on her arm and her body gravitated to him until she was firmly pressed against his chest, staring up into those tender loving eyes.
Finally he looked back at her. Their eyes locked. He slowly walked toward her, opened his arms and embraced her softly against his chest. With Rob’s arms around her waist, Shauna raised her head and met with
For a time everything was perfect. Seeing each other everyday, talking to each other every night. Going on dates, movie outings with friends, shopping together, studying together. They did everything together. Running was the best. Running side by side across the town, relishing their youth, their stamina, and the simple pleasures of a gentle breeze under a warm summer sun. The only downside of their runs was Shauna always struggled to keep up and had to settle for watching Rob .
It was the first official day of track season again and Shauna was startled awake by her alarm. She rubbed her eyes and peered through the darkness at her clock. She was late for her morning run with Rob! She wrestled out of her bed sheets, threw on her running clothes, laced up her shoes, and raced out the door expecting to see Rob waiting for her. She surveyed the street, hoping to see him running or stretching. Rob was nowhere to be seen. She let out a sigh as her gaze fell upon her watch. Sure, she was fifteen minutes late, but its not like he would have left without her right? No he wouldn’t do that to her. Where the hell could he be? If he didn’t show up or call, something must have happened. Shauna plopped down onto the bench and called him. No answer. She sat there waiting, and waiting, until her mom peeked her head out of the house an announced that it was time for breakfast and then off to school.
At school, he simply didn’t hear his alarm go off. Over time, he stopped going on the morning runs with Shauna. He said that there was no time for morning runs, because it was track season and that if he was going to be running, he had to be training seriously. And he said morning runs cut into sleep time, and he wasn’t getting enough sleep, because of homework and talking on the phone with her at night.
Shauna lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for Rob to call. He was late again; probably late because he decided to do some extra laps around the track. But recently, she was always feeling like a burden for Rob. He never had time to run with her, they barely talked at school, because he had to spend time with his friends. And he was always doing homework at night so didn’t really talk on the phone for too long. Not to mention the fact that the only time she got attention was when they argued over not spending enough time together. She sat in bed thinking of how to fix this relationship, before things got out of hand. She could never break up with him and give up those memories. Even if their relationship wasn‘t perfect, she loved Rob. She laid on the bed, and prayed that things would change.
Shauna lived to run. She wasn‘t a great runner or anything, but not a day went by that she didn’t hit the track. She jogged till the sun went down, through the rain, on sprained ankles and sore feet. She reveled in knowing that her hard work today would make her stronger tomorrow. She wanted to be strong. And when she was too injured to run, she sat and contently watched the track team as they went through their practice, sprinting across the track, kicking up huge dust clouds. She wished she could be as strong as they were.
No one was faster or stronger than Rob. He was the star runner for track. He was still only a sophmore and still he had accomplished way more than Shauna could ever have hoped to manage. He was amazing. His body tanned from all the long summer practices, covered in lean, slender muscles. Not to mention he was tall and had a pretty cute butt to go with everything else.
Shaun and Rob had been in the same sports for the past two years, but they had never really had a chance to talk. He was shy she thought. Maybe when you’re that fast, everyone else just gets left in the dust.
One day before school, Shauna was on her ritual morning run, jogging before the sun had even peeked over the rooftops, listening to her ipod as she mindlessly jogged into the music. Something poked her in the shoulder. She spun around to see a hooded figure in the dim morning light, running beside her. “get away,” she screamed as she threw a punch and hit the weirdo right on the chin sending him crashing down onto the pavement clutching his bloodied nose. It was Rob.
“what are you doing scaring me like that?! I almost died!!” yelled Shauna.
“wow u hit like a man…” mumbled Rob as he got to his feet and wiped the blood on his sleeve.
“what?!” I mean, um, anyway I’m sorry I hit you., I thought you were like…”
“it’s okay. I’m fine” he said
“what were you doing sneaking up behind me anyway?”
“oh, uh, I saw you running and thought you might want some company and like maybe it would be better to have a guy around since it’s so deserted and all but yeah, I guess you don’t really need a guy to protect you.”
He smiled. He was so handsome, Shauna thought, even if his hair was a mess and some of the dried blood was smeared on his cheek. Why would Rob want to run with her? She was just average looking, slow, clumsy Shauna. There was no way he liked her or anything. But what if he did?
Rain started to gently caress Shauna’s face Rob grabbed her hand and the two of them ran for cover under a nearby tree. She felt so safe with Rob, as if nothing could ever hurt her. A smile spread across her face as she looked down in surprise to see their hands were still intertwined. She timidly looked up, almost afraid to see Rob’s disapproval of her clinging to his arm. His head turned away, searching through the sheet of rain for something to say. He turned his head back their eyes locked. Her cheeks started to heat up and she knew they were definitely turning a bright pink. She looked down at her feet. Suddenly she felt a tug on her arm and her body gravitated to him until she was firmly pressed against his chest, staring up into those tender loving eyes.
Finally he looked back at her. Their eyes locked. He slowly walked toward her, opened his arms and embraced her softly against his chest. With Rob’s arms around her waist, Shauna raised her head and met with
For a time everything was perfect. Seeing each other everyday, talking to each other every night. Going on dates, movie outings with friends, shopping together, studying together. They did everything together. Running was the best. Running side by side across the town, relishing their youth, their stamina, and the simple pleasures of a gentle breeze under a warm summer sun. The only downside of their runs was Shauna always struggled to keep up and had to settle for watching Rob .
It was the first official day of track season again and Shauna was startled awake by her alarm. She rubbed her eyes and peered through the darkness at her clock. She was late for her morning run with Rob! She wrestled out of her bed sheets, threw on her running clothes, laced up her shoes, and raced out the door expecting to see Rob waiting for her. She surveyed the street, hoping to see him running or stretching. Rob was nowhere to be seen. She let out a sigh as her gaze fell upon her watch. Sure, she was fifteen minutes late, but its not like he would have left without her right? No he wouldn’t do that to her. Where the hell could he be? If he didn’t show up or call, something must have happened. Shauna plopped down onto the bench and called him. No answer. She sat there waiting, and waiting, until her mom peeked her head out of the house an announced that it was time for breakfast and then off to school.
At school, he simply didn’t hear his alarm go off. Over time, he stopped going on the morning runs with Shauna. He said that there was no time for morning runs, because it was track season and that if he was going to be running, he had to be training seriously. And he said morning runs cut into sleep time, and he wasn’t getting enough sleep, because of homework and talking on the phone with her at night.
Shauna lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for Rob to call. He was late again; probably late because he decided to do some extra laps around the track. But recently, she was always feeling like a burden for Rob. He never had time to run with her, they barely talked at school, because he had to spend time with his friends. And he was always doing homework at night so didn’t really talk on the phone for too long. Not to mention the fact that the only time she got attention was when they argued over not spending enough time together. She sat in bed thinking of how to fix this relationship, before things got out of hand. She could never break up with him and give up those memories. Even if their relationship wasn‘t perfect, she loved Rob. She laid on the bed, and prayed that things would change.
Unthinkable Horror ( I am very disturbed that I actually wrote this)
He was not thinking about his friends, or even his family. He was not thinking about his girlfriend who he had loved, not even her lovely, large, but not excessively so, breasts. He was not thinking about her hair that had been so long and brown or her lips that had been so soft and red. He was not thinking about his dog or the neighbor’s plants that the dog continually tore up. He was not thinking about work or the secretary with whom he had had affair after affair. He was not thinking about his ex-wife who left him because of said affair. Nor was he thinking about getting gas, although he would certainly need to very soon if he wanted to keep driving, though he had no such intention. He wasn’t thinking about the child that might have been on its way, or how it would have affected his relationship with his girlfriend. He wasn’t thinking about his growling stomach that had not been fed for nearing more than a day. He wasn’t thinking about the gun that was so carefully placed in the glove compartment, or how he had almost killed himself with it only hours before. He wasn’t thinking about the child with whom he had locked eyes with only seconds before he intended to pull the trigger. He wasn’t thinking about the tickle he felt on his right testicle that had been itching for the past twenty minutes. He wasn’t thinking about the smell of blood as he had opened the front door. He wasn’t thinking about the wave of silence and dread that had overcome him as he approached the stairs about thirty six hours earlier. He was not thinking about how he was now driving almost fifty miles over the speed limit. He was not thinking about the foolish prairie dog that scurried across the road entering his path and being squished, but only on the backend. He was not thinking about how he had watched it as the front half that still remained unsquished, had continued to try and run across the street. He was not thinking about how as he had descended down one stair at a time he knew immediately that something was terribly wrong. He was not thinking about how her right hand had been glued to the light switch just as it would have been if she were about to turn on the lights only without a body attached to it. He was not thinking about how her legs up to her knees were on the scale posed as if she had been weighing herself, only the weight displayed on the meter was certainly a lot less than what she had actually weighed. He was not thinking about the way the weather had been changing, finally starting to warm up after a cool beginning of spring. He was not thinking about the police car that suddenly appeared in his rear view mirror. He was not thinking about the rest of her legs and her torso that were sitting on the couch watching TV on mute, though it didn’t really matter since there was not head attached which meant no eyes, no ears. He was not thinking about how the officer in pursuit of him had now become two. He was not thinking about what he would do if he were forcibly stopped before he could reach his destination. He was not thinking about her right hand which was on the dinner tray wrapped around her fork with witch she had been eating a TV dinner. He was not thinking about the fly that was trapped in his car that kept banging its face against the window trying to escape. He was not thinking about the A.C. that he hadn’t bothered to turn off even though he was freezing. He was not thinking about how he had opened the basement bathroom door to find her head hanging from the ceiling forced into a permanent smile, eyes open staring into the mirror as if she were simply checking her reflection. He was not thinking about the helicopter he could now hear overhead. He was not thinking about the urine that now soiled his pants. He was not thinking about how there was blood everywhere even inside an empty glass that had been sitting on the coffee table, which he thought was odd. He wasn’t thinking about what the police driving behind him would do if they stopped him to find his girlfriend’s severed head riding shotgun. He was not thinking about the terrible job someone would have of cleaning everything up. He was not thinking about how long it would take for his house to sale and if the people who would eventually live there would know of the horrors that had been committed there. He was not thinking about what his parents and friends would say after he was gone. He was not wondering how much they would miss him or how they would remember him. He was not thinking about how much pain she may have suffered as she was torn apart or how much of her dismemberment she had been alive for.
All he could think about was what kind of sick sack of psychopathic shit face it would take to dissemble such a beautiful woman and then place her body parts in positions as if they were simply carrying on with everyday activities. And even as his car finally reached the cliff and he began the hundred and fifty foot drop into the canyon, he still couldn’t find the answer.
All he could think about was what kind of sick sack of psychopathic shit face it would take to dissemble such a beautiful woman and then place her body parts in positions as if they were simply carrying on with everyday activities. And even as his car finally reached the cliff and he began the hundred and fifty foot drop into the canyon, he still couldn’t find the answer.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Esther
It was time for a change. Esther wanted what probably all girls her age wanted. Him… She wanted that guy that every 17 year old girl dreamed of. Tall dark and handsome. She had been through plenty of guys and they all came up short in one way or another. There was Jonny who had the tall dark and handsome part right, but lacked the brain to put it to any kind of good use. The deepest conversation she had had with him was about the chicken and the egg, which led to him sneaking into a neighboring farm just to feed a chicken. This would have been bad enough, but of course he had to feed it, that’s right you guessed it, scrambled eggs just because he found it ironic. He then decided that the chicken must have come first, because if the chicken hadn’t laid the egg, then it wouldn’t have known what the egg was, and would have eaten it… She didn’t know how to respond to that either.
Clearly, tall dark and handsome wasn’t enough. Esther needed the kind of guy that was smart too. He didn’t have to be the next bill gates. In fact, she preferred that he not be that smart, as she had an aversion to chess club members and mathletes. She wanted a guy that was more street smart. The kind of guy who could take care of himself, and of course her, in case of an emergency. He couldn’t be like Lord-Francis (yes that was his real name, LF for short) who was a nice guy, not bad looking, and fairly smart to boot. But he had a slight problem with anxiety, and couldn’t exactly handle himself in emergency situations. For example, there was the time when she had had a track meet and Jason was watching in the audience. She was a hurdler and proud of it. In this particular meet she had misjudged one of the hurdles and caught her back foot on it. She fell forward face-planting right into the pavement. LF valiantly rushed to her rescue, only to see the blood gushing down her face from her nose and the scrape on her chin. He fainted right there on the spot. He fell off to the side of the track into the grass, which would have been good, except his head just so happened to land on a shot-put ball, giving him a concussion. In the end he had needed more medical attention than she had.
It was sort of the same story with Daniel, Norman, Kevin, and Shea. They were all nice guys, but in one way or another, they just didn’t quite satisfy her requirements. Esther couldn’t understand why she was thus far unable to find that right guy. She was after all fairly attractive. People were always telling her she looked older, often taking her for a college student. She had night dark hair that bounced and swayed all the way down to the middle of her back, with hazel eyes, sharp green contrasting brilliantly with the plain brown. She was half Korean on her mom’s side, with one quarter Jamaican and one quarter Caucasian, given her by her dad. Her Asian eyes and bone structure went well her Caucasian nose, and Jamaican chin. It was quite a mix. She was blessed with a thin frame and had just recently added some not so modest curves to fill it in. She had always had hands and feet that seemed just a little too large for such a small person, but she had grown into them nicely. She had class. She really was turning into a beautiful young woman.
Clearly, tall dark and handsome wasn’t enough. Esther needed the kind of guy that was smart too. He didn’t have to be the next bill gates. In fact, she preferred that he not be that smart, as she had an aversion to chess club members and mathletes. She wanted a guy that was more street smart. The kind of guy who could take care of himself, and of course her, in case of an emergency. He couldn’t be like Lord-Francis (yes that was his real name, LF for short) who was a nice guy, not bad looking, and fairly smart to boot. But he had a slight problem with anxiety, and couldn’t exactly handle himself in emergency situations. For example, there was the time when she had had a track meet and Jason was watching in the audience. She was a hurdler and proud of it. In this particular meet she had misjudged one of the hurdles and caught her back foot on it. She fell forward face-planting right into the pavement. LF valiantly rushed to her rescue, only to see the blood gushing down her face from her nose and the scrape on her chin. He fainted right there on the spot. He fell off to the side of the track into the grass, which would have been good, except his head just so happened to land on a shot-put ball, giving him a concussion. In the end he had needed more medical attention than she had.
It was sort of the same story with Daniel, Norman, Kevin, and Shea. They were all nice guys, but in one way or another, they just didn’t quite satisfy her requirements. Esther couldn’t understand why she was thus far unable to find that right guy. She was after all fairly attractive. People were always telling her she looked older, often taking her for a college student. She had night dark hair that bounced and swayed all the way down to the middle of her back, with hazel eyes, sharp green contrasting brilliantly with the plain brown. She was half Korean on her mom’s side, with one quarter Jamaican and one quarter Caucasian, given her by her dad. Her Asian eyes and bone structure went well her Caucasian nose, and Jamaican chin. It was quite a mix. She was blessed with a thin frame and had just recently added some not so modest curves to fill it in. She had always had hands and feet that seemed just a little too large for such a small person, but she had grown into them nicely. She had class. She really was turning into a beautiful young woman.
Flank
As he took each additional step that got him nowhere, he couldn’t help but look at his reflection in the window before him that was a mirror. He was not in prison. This was not one of those two way mirrors’ that was a mirror from one side, but a window from the other, even if at times it did feel that way.
No he was on a treadmill. Not the metaphorical treadmill of life, though at times his life may seem like a treadmill, but just your average everyday treadmill. As Flank stared into his reflection in this ordinary old window he had never hated treadmills more than at this moment. Flank always felt that treadmills were a waste of time. After all if you’re going to put all the effort into running somewhere you should at least have the satisfaction of getting there. It is doubtful that your average person would actually want to get up and go, say to the supermarket, only minus the supermarket part just the exercise along the way.
No Flank would never think this way as he is pretty much as average as average can be. You see there really is nothing interesting about him. As he takes each new step on the treadmill he can’t help but feel more and more disdain for the treadmill he is on. And yet he continues diligently along. Though his irritation grows with every step his discipline holds and he continues to use just such a machine without even the slightest inkling as to why. But then that is the story of his unextraordinary life. He constantly finds himself in this very predicament, plodding along in some sad circumstance that deep down he hates with the fury of a small mouse. You are probably thinking that short of a hulked out mouse of I Am Legend, a mouse has no great fury, and you are absolutely right. Flank could never really hate anything. No if he carried the capacity for such strong emotion, he might actually be able to take those sentiments and channel them into some sort of action, but instead he simply goes on through life with minor indifference and little to say about anything.
Clearly Flank is the last person to whom anyone would expect something so extraordinary to happen, and yet that is what makes this particular event so fascinating.
.
No he was on a treadmill. Not the metaphorical treadmill of life, though at times his life may seem like a treadmill, but just your average everyday treadmill. As Flank stared into his reflection in this ordinary old window he had never hated treadmills more than at this moment. Flank always felt that treadmills were a waste of time. After all if you’re going to put all the effort into running somewhere you should at least have the satisfaction of getting there. It is doubtful that your average person would actually want to get up and go, say to the supermarket, only minus the supermarket part just the exercise along the way.
No Flank would never think this way as he is pretty much as average as average can be. You see there really is nothing interesting about him. As he takes each new step on the treadmill he can’t help but feel more and more disdain for the treadmill he is on. And yet he continues diligently along. Though his irritation grows with every step his discipline holds and he continues to use just such a machine without even the slightest inkling as to why. But then that is the story of his unextraordinary life. He constantly finds himself in this very predicament, plodding along in some sad circumstance that deep down he hates with the fury of a small mouse. You are probably thinking that short of a hulked out mouse of I Am Legend, a mouse has no great fury, and you are absolutely right. Flank could never really hate anything. No if he carried the capacity for such strong emotion, he might actually be able to take those sentiments and channel them into some sort of action, but instead he simply goes on through life with minor indifference and little to say about anything.
Clearly Flank is the last person to whom anyone would expect something so extraordinary to happen, and yet that is what makes this particular event so fascinating.
.
Where the Wind Goes
“Smoking is terrible for you.”
“A lot of things are terrible for me.” I sit down on the edge of my car, leaning against the hard metal, a cigarette dangling from my lips.
The man standing nearby looks at me with a half-smile. “That’s true. And you do a lot of those things.”
“I do my best.” I pull myself up onto the trunk of my car, inching my way to the rear window. I lie down and stretch my arms out, staring up at the sky. The hazy blue is covered by the long, swaying pine trees scattered around the parking lot.
I let out a long sigh. “I have all these songs playing in my head. Like I hear the music so distinctly and then in an instant it’s gone. It drives me crazy, I wish I had a way to record it. Like some mental tape recorder I could pop into my skull.”
The man laughed. “That would come in handy in more ways than one—like maybe you would start remembering my name if you had one of those. We’ve been working together for three months, and I’ve never once heard you call me by anything but ‘hey you.’”
“Yeah. It would probably have tons of uses.” I take a drag of my cigarette and as I exhale I watch the smoke dance and twirl around me, the wind picking it up and stealing it away, throwing it across the sky and infecting the air.
I feel the man poke my foot with his finger. “Are you falling asleep? Its only noon.”
“No, just closing my eyes for a second. How far do you think the air you exhale goes? Like in a minute, does the air you let out spread across a mountain, or does it just twirl right back around and sit with you for awhile?”
“Umm…I have no idea. I’ve never really thought about it before. That’s kind of umm…odd. Are you high or something?”
“You know what man, I’m always high.”
The man laughs, “What, like high on life?”
“No, not really.”
“Oh. Like weed?”
“Yeah I do like weed. Do you?”
“What? No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Alright.” I take another drag of my cigarette and as I exhale, I try to watch the tentacles of smoke as they spread out across the sky, slowly snaking up towards the blue ocean of the heavens and disappearing so quickly it was almost as if it was never there.
“Fuck.”
“What?”
“I can’t see where the wind goes.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“A lot of things are terrible for me.” I sit down on the edge of my car, leaning against the hard metal, a cigarette dangling from my lips.
The man standing nearby looks at me with a half-smile. “That’s true. And you do a lot of those things.”
“I do my best.” I pull myself up onto the trunk of my car, inching my way to the rear window. I lie down and stretch my arms out, staring up at the sky. The hazy blue is covered by the long, swaying pine trees scattered around the parking lot.
I let out a long sigh. “I have all these songs playing in my head. Like I hear the music so distinctly and then in an instant it’s gone. It drives me crazy, I wish I had a way to record it. Like some mental tape recorder I could pop into my skull.”
The man laughed. “That would come in handy in more ways than one—like maybe you would start remembering my name if you had one of those. We’ve been working together for three months, and I’ve never once heard you call me by anything but ‘hey you.’”
“Yeah. It would probably have tons of uses.” I take a drag of my cigarette and as I exhale I watch the smoke dance and twirl around me, the wind picking it up and stealing it away, throwing it across the sky and infecting the air.
I feel the man poke my foot with his finger. “Are you falling asleep? Its only noon.”
“No, just closing my eyes for a second. How far do you think the air you exhale goes? Like in a minute, does the air you let out spread across a mountain, or does it just twirl right back around and sit with you for awhile?”
“Umm…I have no idea. I’ve never really thought about it before. That’s kind of umm…odd. Are you high or something?”
“You know what man, I’m always high.”
The man laughs, “What, like high on life?”
“No, not really.”
“Oh. Like weed?”
“Yeah I do like weed. Do you?”
“What? No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Alright.” I take another drag of my cigarette and as I exhale, I try to watch the tentacles of smoke as they spread out across the sky, slowly snaking up towards the blue ocean of the heavens and disappearing so quickly it was almost as if it was never there.
“Fuck.”
“What?”
“I can’t see where the wind goes.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Meds
Oh my god! Sometimes it’s just too much to take. I can’t stop thinking about it, my tongue gets numb, my heart starts pumping, my knees get all jiggly and my fingers start to shake like tiny little leaves caught in a hurricane. Oh man, it just makes my body ache. I feel like an insane asylum filled with laughing little girls. What is wrong with me? Maybe I should have taken that extra pill. Fuck, but that’s not me! It’s not me! This crazy thing, this shaky thing, this fucking out of control thing, this is me. So…what is so wrong with that?
I guess it’s the way people look at me. Or the way I think people are looking at me. I don’t really know if I have any idea how people are actually looking at me though, I might be thinking they’re thinking “What’s that shit in her teeth?” when they’re really thinking “She’s a sexy beast.” So I don’t know if I should really be worried about it, you know?
I mean, maybe I should be though. Maybe I really should be. Like that time when they dragged me out of that hospital room by my elbows and threw me out onto the sidewalk, and called the cops and all that, they probably weren’t thinking “Oh man, she’s sexy.” You know? I mean, maybe they were. Sadistic motherfuckers.
But I mean, that’s the problem right? I can’t make up my mind. It’s so hard to make a goddamn decision that I start totally fucking myself in the head with every little bizarre twist and turn I think up. Like who is really going to ass rape me if I fall asleep with my door unlocked, you know? I mean, that’s why you put me on meds right? Cause I think weird shit like this?
Hello? Are you there? Hello?
I guess it’s the way people look at me. Or the way I think people are looking at me. I don’t really know if I have any idea how people are actually looking at me though, I might be thinking they’re thinking “What’s that shit in her teeth?” when they’re really thinking “She’s a sexy beast.” So I don’t know if I should really be worried about it, you know?
I mean, maybe I should be though. Maybe I really should be. Like that time when they dragged me out of that hospital room by my elbows and threw me out onto the sidewalk, and called the cops and all that, they probably weren’t thinking “Oh man, she’s sexy.” You know? I mean, maybe they were. Sadistic motherfuckers.
But I mean, that’s the problem right? I can’t make up my mind. It’s so hard to make a goddamn decision that I start totally fucking myself in the head with every little bizarre twist and turn I think up. Like who is really going to ass rape me if I fall asleep with my door unlocked, you know? I mean, that’s why you put me on meds right? Cause I think weird shit like this?
Hello? Are you there? Hello?
Big Sister
Five years old and in urgent need to find my big sister, I worriedly roamed around the familiar church sanctuary. I desperately longed to find her, never for any particular reason; I just always enjoyed abiding in her presence. Surrounded by towering people, I hurriedly weaved my way through the clusters of grown-ups in determination. Only being able to see the legs of many, made my journey a lot more challenging, but I continued on hunting for my sister. Finally I caught a glimpse of her flowered denim skirt and gleefully scuttled towards her. At last, I reached her. She picked me up and embraced me in her arms as I gazed into her deep blue eyes and burrowed my head into her brownish-blonde hair. Content with just standing by her and clinging to her side, I felt so relieved to have finally found my big sister. All day long I happily tagged along with my sister and her friends, not saying a word, just following in her shadow.
Indescribable Feeling
Finally the car halted to a stop. I swung the door open and flew out in anxiousness. My mother and I joyfully pranced down the streets, blanketed with snow and swarmed with last minute shoppers. My wondering eyes gazed at the sparkling, platinum Christmas lights dangling from the maple trees aligned on the sidewalks on both sides of the street. I could feel my heart rapidly pounding harder by every second. I took a deep breath of the icy cold air, thick with the acrid aroma of pine from the surrounding wreaths and Christmas trees. As we made our way across the busy street, I firmly squeezed my mother’s warm hand. My heart began to warm as I continued to look around at the friendly smiles of every passerby. Carolers all around us sang melodious Christmas songs. Their heavenly voices softly sung the sweet words of “Silent Night” that resounded in my head for hours. Laughing children skipped past me as they held hands and swung their arms back and forth. They were bursting with anticipation as they jolted to the toy stores with their half eaten candy canes. Their wide smiles were stained with the red and white candy. My stomach began to dance as I saw kids with frozen red cheeks staring through windows of stores in awe at toys that lay beyond the glass. The kids were nearly drooling on the window as they stared at the Barbie dolls, porcelain dolls, and doll houses. G.I. Joes, and transformers that were in the display case. The glow of the shiny untouchable toys reflected in the children’s eyes. The rich fragrance of fresh gingerbread and cinnamon hung in the air, making it hard not to drool all over ourselves. The delightful smell enticed my mother and I to stop for a snack. We walked over to a little coffee shop on the corner of the street that looked like a cozy cabin. The blazing fireplace relaxed everyone inside and when I walked through the door my heart started to slow to a normal rate. Everyone in the coffee shop seemed to be glued to their seats. After we grabbed a gingerbread cookie and a steaming cup of hot cocoa we took a seat near the warm fire to defrost and felt completely peaceful as are bodies began to form to the seats. After finishing off the last few cookie crumbs and the last sip of hot cocoa it was time to jump back up and continue on with our shopping. It wasn’t long before my heart started to jump around at a rapid pace again as I saw the glittering white Christmas lights and shimmering snow glowing in the dark of the joyous night.
Christmas Time
The aroma of cinnamon and gingerbread lingers all around
I look out the window to see the glistening snow
The beautiful white blanket shimmers on the ground
Christmas lights glimmer at every house in the town
The Christmas tree sparkles and on top rests a bow
The aroma of cinnamon and gingerbread lingers all around
The crackling of the fireplace; oh how I love that sound!
I gaze out the window with my face aglow
The beautiful white blanket shimmers on the ground
The cookies for Santa turning golden brown
They bake in the oven as I eat the dough
The aroma of cinnamon and gingerbread lingers all around
I make the snowman’s head nice and round
I place on the eyes made out of coal
The beautiful white blanket shimmers on the ground
The feelings of joy and bliss abound
The peacefulness within me will only grow
The aroma of cinnamon and gingerbread lingers all around
The beautiful white blanket shimmers on the ground
Christmas Time
The aroma of cinnamon and gingerbread lingers all around
I look out the window to see the glistening snow
The beautiful white blanket shimmers on the ground
Christmas lights glimmer at every house in the town
The Christmas tree sparkles and on top rests a bow
The aroma of cinnamon and gingerbread lingers all around
The crackling of the fireplace; oh how I love that sound!
I gaze out the window with my face aglow
The beautiful white blanket shimmers on the ground
The cookies for Santa turning golden brown
They bake in the oven as I eat the dough
The aroma of cinnamon and gingerbread lingers all around
I make the snowman’s head nice and round
I place on the eyes made out of coal
The beautiful white blanket shimmers on the ground
The feelings of joy and bliss abound
The peacefulness within me will only grow
The aroma of cinnamon and gingerbread lingers all around
The beautiful white blanket shimmers on the ground
No Escape
Standing in the middle of a battlefield, objects fly at me in every direction. I attempt to block, dodge, or even catch them, but there is no use. I breathe heavily, trying to bring air into my constricted lungs, but there is no use. What do I do? I cannot just leave; I would have no way to return home or escape to a safer, less chaotic place. So I must tolerate being used as a moving target. This is what it is like shopping with my mother.
The first thing to expect when going shopping with my mother is: be prepared to move at rapid speeds. While I follow her with the shopping cart, we move as if a man dressed in an expensive, fancy suit will be waiting at the checkout lane to reward her for having the world record shopping time. I receive props for not hitting or injuring anyone in the aisles, which is always an amazing accomplishment, especially for me. My mother, a woman on a mission, constantly reminds that we “are not there to dilly-dally”.
“We need to just get in, buy what we need, and then get out”, my mom tells me in a serious, stern voice. But I always want to gaze at and enjoy all the clothes and electronics at Wal-Mart; she would not allow it. I never have time to blink or ponder as we rush down the aisles like the champions at the Indy 500. Good thing someone knows where we are going!
The only shopping experience more dreadful than Wal-Mart is Hobby Lobby. Since my mother crochets various little critters that poop Skittles out their butts (yes, you heard me right), yarn is a necessity. Not only do I have to worry about the fast-paced movement, but now I must be prepared for airborne yarn balls approaching my head. As we draw near the aisle, that painful fear rises to my head and I know what comes next. The yarn is on sale. Those five words, fingernails on a chalkboard to my ears, race into my brain persuading me to loosen my grip on the shopping cart and run for my life, but I know I must proceed. When I pull myself and the cart to the side of the aisle, my mother is released from her cage and the frenzy begins. The poor little old women looking diligently at each yarn to choose the best for their knitted scarves become terrified as yarn soars past their heads at high velocities. Struggling to catch them with all my effort, my mother behaves like a rabid wolf in the winter having found the last morsel of meat. After this fast-paced, terror-stricken incident, we begin to head toward the checkout lane. It involves a great effort to keep all of the overflowing yarn balls inside the shopping cart, but I somehow manage. Customers gaze at us in a daze as if they have never seen a crazy mother and her embarrrassed daughter before.
The first thing to expect when going shopping with my mother is: be prepared to move at rapid speeds. While I follow her with the shopping cart, we move as if a man dressed in an expensive, fancy suit will be waiting at the checkout lane to reward her for having the world record shopping time. I receive props for not hitting or injuring anyone in the aisles, which is always an amazing accomplishment, especially for me. My mother, a woman on a mission, constantly reminds that we “are not there to dilly-dally”.
“We need to just get in, buy what we need, and then get out”, my mom tells me in a serious, stern voice. But I always want to gaze at and enjoy all the clothes and electronics at Wal-Mart; she would not allow it. I never have time to blink or ponder as we rush down the aisles like the champions at the Indy 500. Good thing someone knows where we are going!
The only shopping experience more dreadful than Wal-Mart is Hobby Lobby. Since my mother crochets various little critters that poop Skittles out their butts (yes, you heard me right), yarn is a necessity. Not only do I have to worry about the fast-paced movement, but now I must be prepared for airborne yarn balls approaching my head. As we draw near the aisle, that painful fear rises to my head and I know what comes next. The yarn is on sale. Those five words, fingernails on a chalkboard to my ears, race into my brain persuading me to loosen my grip on the shopping cart and run for my life, but I know I must proceed. When I pull myself and the cart to the side of the aisle, my mother is released from her cage and the frenzy begins. The poor little old women looking diligently at each yarn to choose the best for their knitted scarves become terrified as yarn soars past their heads at high velocities. Struggling to catch them with all my effort, my mother behaves like a rabid wolf in the winter having found the last morsel of meat. After this fast-paced, terror-stricken incident, we begin to head toward the checkout lane. It involves a great effort to keep all of the overflowing yarn balls inside the shopping cart, but I somehow manage. Customers gaze at us in a daze as if they have never seen a crazy mother and her embarrrassed daughter before.
Tossed Away
“Why must you always put the juice back in the fridge when there are only a few sips left? It drives me crazy!”
“Why does that bother you so much, honey? I pour the perfect amount in my cup and then put it back. It shouldn’t be such a big deal…”
“Why can’t you just sip the top of the cup with the juice and pour in the rest and throw the container away? It’s not that freaking difficult!”
“I don’t get it. What’s wrong, Meg? You never mentioned anything about this until now.”
“There needs to be more space in the fridge, Stephen. With something so empty, so pointless, it shouldn’t be taking up such unnecessary space, especially when it’s so close to being finished, over with…” Tears began to streak down Meg’s face as her voice calmed to a whisper. She grabbed the carton of Tropicana and threw it violently into the trashcan with a worthless sip still inside.
“Even if there can always be a little left, you need to know when things need to be thrown away.”
Stephen stood up slowly from in front of the television and headed to the kitchen to comfort his hysterical girlfriend who was manically cleaning the dishes.
“Is that how you really feel? Am I some almost empty carton for you to toss away? Am I taking up too much space for you, Meg?” Stephen started to catch on to her ridiculous emotions that were attached to something deeper, something more hurtful and more unfixable than simply sipping up whatever was left in the carton.
“Fine.” He reached into the trashcan and took out the orange juice, untwisted the lid almost mechanically, face turning red and distorted, his person giving off a nuclear amount of heat. He drained the carton into his mouth and returned it to the place that he wished it would have never visited. Meg was silent in her streams of tears, her eyes averted from his.
“The carton is out of the fridge… and so am I.” And with that, Stephen grabbed his jacket, wallet and keys and childishly slammed the door as he left her apartment, never to see the woman he had loved for three years, all because of a now empty carton of pulpy, sour orange juice.
“Why does that bother you so much, honey? I pour the perfect amount in my cup and then put it back. It shouldn’t be such a big deal…”
“Why can’t you just sip the top of the cup with the juice and pour in the rest and throw the container away? It’s not that freaking difficult!”
“I don’t get it. What’s wrong, Meg? You never mentioned anything about this until now.”
“There needs to be more space in the fridge, Stephen. With something so empty, so pointless, it shouldn’t be taking up such unnecessary space, especially when it’s so close to being finished, over with…” Tears began to streak down Meg’s face as her voice calmed to a whisper. She grabbed the carton of Tropicana and threw it violently into the trashcan with a worthless sip still inside.
“Even if there can always be a little left, you need to know when things need to be thrown away.”
Stephen stood up slowly from in front of the television and headed to the kitchen to comfort his hysterical girlfriend who was manically cleaning the dishes.
“Is that how you really feel? Am I some almost empty carton for you to toss away? Am I taking up too much space for you, Meg?” Stephen started to catch on to her ridiculous emotions that were attached to something deeper, something more hurtful and more unfixable than simply sipping up whatever was left in the carton.
“Fine.” He reached into the trashcan and took out the orange juice, untwisted the lid almost mechanically, face turning red and distorted, his person giving off a nuclear amount of heat. He drained the carton into his mouth and returned it to the place that he wished it would have never visited. Meg was silent in her streams of tears, her eyes averted from his.
“The carton is out of the fridge… and so am I.” And with that, Stephen grabbed his jacket, wallet and keys and childishly slammed the door as he left her apartment, never to see the woman he had loved for three years, all because of a now empty carton of pulpy, sour orange juice.
Yummy, Artery-Clogging Goodness!
Chocolate—the soft, delicious treat that “melts in your mouth, not in your hands.” Potato chips—the crunchy, salty indulgence where “once you pop, the fun don’t stop.” Fast-food French fries, hamburgers, and soda pop—also known as the downfall of our modern society—makes individuals whisper “I’m lovin’ it” as they wipe their grease-smothered hands on their jeans and shirts, their blood pressure soaring, and fields of pimples begin to form across their face as their hormones reject the fast, flavorsome meal. Even though junk food tastes utterly delectable to the average person’s mouth, it actually makes individuals feel unhealthy and tired, especially later-on in their lives. Americans should watch what they eat, teaching their children and their children’s children that junk food damages their bodies, and it serves as an addicting agent when they grow older. But are the American citizen’s truthfully to blame for their choice of nourishment? After all, the fast-food companies such as McDonald’s, Burger King, Wendy’s—to name a few—and the other junk food producers of the world draw their listeners into buying their products with irresistible advertising, low prices, and appetizing products. Who cares if McDonald’s will make you obese and raise your blood pressure, as long as it is an excellent deal, right?
If unhealthy products, such as potato chips, soda, French fries, and hamburgers, were discouraged more in our society, maybe citizens would think before they eat and think before they let their children eat. Of course, everyone knows the negative results of eating too much junk food, but if producers were not so persistent in having the public buy their tasty and inexpensive “masterpieces”, maybe consumers would not feel as tempted. American’s today are also shown easy ways out of obesity instead of doing it the old-fashioned way—healthy diet and exercise. Now, we can take magic diet pills that simply “melt” the fat away! “Buy our magnificent, miracle diet pills that melt off eighty pounds in two weeks! You won’t need to change your diet or even exercise. Just take this pill before every meal, and before you know it, you will be as skinny and beautiful as any model!” These hundreds of different dieting programs available just make Americans lazy and stay unhealthy. If they never change their diet, they could be as skinny as a rail, but their hearts would still be coated and caked with layers of fat, resulting in heart disease. But who cares? They can eat whatever they want and still fit through doorways.
Although the junk food industries in our society play a major role in the food choices we make, the health food producers are not completely innocent. Organic groceries at your local supermarket are priced much higher over the rest of the groceries in the store, making these products unappealing to most consumers. The average American cannot even afford gasoline anymore, let alone buy over-priced, healthy food. Natural grocers, such as Whole Food Market and Down to Earth, cannot compete with places like Wal-Mart and their much lower prices. The health food industry should spend more money on promoting their products instead of letting fast food restaurants and cereal companies conquer every available commercial slot. In the movie “Super Size Me”, Morgan Spurlock showed various pictures to children around the ages of five and six. The kids could not identify a picture of Jesus. One of these adorable youngsters said that this picture was of George W. Bush, who we all know is on the completely opposite side of the spectrum. However, every child was able to identify Ronald McDonald because of the increasing marketing of junk food that the youth of America observe as they enjoy their favorite television programs. If natural grocers create appealing characters and lower their towering prices, maybe they would grab the attention of more customers, gaining more profit in the long run and making Americans healthier and happier.
Beginning to eat better foods to achieve a fit lifestyle is incredibly difficult when millions of Americans have grown up eating junk food and know how exhilarating it can be to the taste buds. However, it is not too late! Save your children from this horrific fate of junk food addiction by teaching them healthier food choices early in life. Corporations need to stop being so money-hungry and share some of that wealth with the youth of America instead of bombarding them with unnecessary advertising. And natural grocers need to take a stand and rise to the top by ameliorating their industry to the public in order to form longer-living, better-off customers. But we can still become healthy without the greedy food industries’ help. Eat more carrots! Eat more apples! Eat more chicken! Eat more raison brain! Eat more yogurts! Drink more water! There is a way to eat (and drink) healthier, but it is up to the individual to raise above all of the tempting obstacles to obtain a healthier, longer, and less painful life.
If unhealthy products, such as potato chips, soda, French fries, and hamburgers, were discouraged more in our society, maybe citizens would think before they eat and think before they let their children eat. Of course, everyone knows the negative results of eating too much junk food, but if producers were not so persistent in having the public buy their tasty and inexpensive “masterpieces”, maybe consumers would not feel as tempted. American’s today are also shown easy ways out of obesity instead of doing it the old-fashioned way—healthy diet and exercise. Now, we can take magic diet pills that simply “melt” the fat away! “Buy our magnificent, miracle diet pills that melt off eighty pounds in two weeks! You won’t need to change your diet or even exercise. Just take this pill before every meal, and before you know it, you will be as skinny and beautiful as any model!” These hundreds of different dieting programs available just make Americans lazy and stay unhealthy. If they never change their diet, they could be as skinny as a rail, but their hearts would still be coated and caked with layers of fat, resulting in heart disease. But who cares? They can eat whatever they want and still fit through doorways.
Although the junk food industries in our society play a major role in the food choices we make, the health food producers are not completely innocent. Organic groceries at your local supermarket are priced much higher over the rest of the groceries in the store, making these products unappealing to most consumers. The average American cannot even afford gasoline anymore, let alone buy over-priced, healthy food. Natural grocers, such as Whole Food Market and Down to Earth, cannot compete with places like Wal-Mart and their much lower prices. The health food industry should spend more money on promoting their products instead of letting fast food restaurants and cereal companies conquer every available commercial slot. In the movie “Super Size Me”, Morgan Spurlock showed various pictures to children around the ages of five and six. The kids could not identify a picture of Jesus. One of these adorable youngsters said that this picture was of George W. Bush, who we all know is on the completely opposite side of the spectrum. However, every child was able to identify Ronald McDonald because of the increasing marketing of junk food that the youth of America observe as they enjoy their favorite television programs. If natural grocers create appealing characters and lower their towering prices, maybe they would grab the attention of more customers, gaining more profit in the long run and making Americans healthier and happier.
Beginning to eat better foods to achieve a fit lifestyle is incredibly difficult when millions of Americans have grown up eating junk food and know how exhilarating it can be to the taste buds. However, it is not too late! Save your children from this horrific fate of junk food addiction by teaching them healthier food choices early in life. Corporations need to stop being so money-hungry and share some of that wealth with the youth of America instead of bombarding them with unnecessary advertising. And natural grocers need to take a stand and rise to the top by ameliorating their industry to the public in order to form longer-living, better-off customers. But we can still become healthy without the greedy food industries’ help. Eat more carrots! Eat more apples! Eat more chicken! Eat more raison brain! Eat more yogurts! Drink more water! There is a way to eat (and drink) healthier, but it is up to the individual to raise above all of the tempting obstacles to obtain a healthier, longer, and less painful life.
The Innocent Prisoner
“Vroom! Vroom!” I pretended to cruise down the road in my imaginary car as I sat in an old wooden chair turned upside down.
“Ma’am you need to pull over,” hollered my big brother.
He walked over to me nonchalantly and waved his red wallet in my face, saying, “You’re under arrest.” His wallet had a police badge drawn inside with black marker and written inside it was, “Plece yer under a rest.” He then took me to the invisible jail cell that was at the bottom of our brown tiled staircase. My older sister had a mischievous grin on her face as she neared me with a long ivory rope in her hands...
I was six years old when my older brother and sister interrupted me during an intriguing episode of Sesame Street. My twelve year old brother and nine year old sister were in charge of me while my parents were at work. They screamed my name eagerly, longing for me to play cops and robbers with them. I hesitantly agreed and halfheartedly moped down the stairs, clutching my Minnie mouse stuffed animal in my chubby little hand.
“Meggie, you’re the bad guy and we’re the police!” they ordered excitedly. So I scuttled over to my make-believe car and sat down, pretending to buckle my seat belt. I brushed my tangled, chocolate brown hair out of my face and started the car. Then I began to drive down the road as I imitated car sounds. This game was much better than watching a rerun of Sesame Street. The delight of being included in my brother and sister’s imaginary games brought a childish grin to my face.
…My sister then tied my hands to the banister of the stairwell. I was beginning to realize how unfair this game was as my sister continued to tie knots, making sure that my hands were securely fastened to the railing. The delighted smile on my face began to fade into a frown as I came to the realization that my brother and sister didn’t want me to play with them, they just wanted to tie me up to the stairwell. My brother then tied a rope around my ankle and placed it on a hook on the ceiling, leaving my leg sticking straight up. Then my sister took a piece of duct tape and placed it on my mouth that was stained with the red lollypop I had eaten earlier. My brown eyes begin to well up as I puckered my eyebrows. My muffled screams were ignored as the tears rolled down my face.
All of a sudden I heard the front door open. My dad was finally home to rescue me. I glanced at the terrified look in my brother and sister’s wide-eyed faces. Suddenly they darted out the back door and hid behind the shed. I began to make as much noise as I could so that my Dad would find me and untie me. I heard footsteps. He was coming closer. Then I heard a deep, concerned voice, “What happened to you, Meggie Mo?” He gently removed the duct tape from my mouth and I cried hysterically,
“Aaron and Kristin tied me up.” I sniffled and tried to catch my breath as my rescuer untied me. “They ran outside.” I tattled, just like I always did after they picked on me. He stroked my hair and said,
“You’re gonna be okay.” Then he walked outside, sternly yelling,
“Kristin! Aaron! Get over here!” I grinned, pleased to know that they would be punished for the five minutes of torture they had put me through.
“Ma’am you need to pull over,” hollered my big brother.
He walked over to me nonchalantly and waved his red wallet in my face, saying, “You’re under arrest.” His wallet had a police badge drawn inside with black marker and written inside it was, “Plece yer under a rest.” He then took me to the invisible jail cell that was at the bottom of our brown tiled staircase. My older sister had a mischievous grin on her face as she neared me with a long ivory rope in her hands...
I was six years old when my older brother and sister interrupted me during an intriguing episode of Sesame Street. My twelve year old brother and nine year old sister were in charge of me while my parents were at work. They screamed my name eagerly, longing for me to play cops and robbers with them. I hesitantly agreed and halfheartedly moped down the stairs, clutching my Minnie mouse stuffed animal in my chubby little hand.
“Meggie, you’re the bad guy and we’re the police!” they ordered excitedly. So I scuttled over to my make-believe car and sat down, pretending to buckle my seat belt. I brushed my tangled, chocolate brown hair out of my face and started the car. Then I began to drive down the road as I imitated car sounds. This game was much better than watching a rerun of Sesame Street. The delight of being included in my brother and sister’s imaginary games brought a childish grin to my face.
…My sister then tied my hands to the banister of the stairwell. I was beginning to realize how unfair this game was as my sister continued to tie knots, making sure that my hands were securely fastened to the railing. The delighted smile on my face began to fade into a frown as I came to the realization that my brother and sister didn’t want me to play with them, they just wanted to tie me up to the stairwell. My brother then tied a rope around my ankle and placed it on a hook on the ceiling, leaving my leg sticking straight up. Then my sister took a piece of duct tape and placed it on my mouth that was stained with the red lollypop I had eaten earlier. My brown eyes begin to well up as I puckered my eyebrows. My muffled screams were ignored as the tears rolled down my face.
All of a sudden I heard the front door open. My dad was finally home to rescue me. I glanced at the terrified look in my brother and sister’s wide-eyed faces. Suddenly they darted out the back door and hid behind the shed. I began to make as much noise as I could so that my Dad would find me and untie me. I heard footsteps. He was coming closer. Then I heard a deep, concerned voice, “What happened to you, Meggie Mo?” He gently removed the duct tape from my mouth and I cried hysterically,
“Aaron and Kristin tied me up.” I sniffled and tried to catch my breath as my rescuer untied me. “They ran outside.” I tattled, just like I always did after they picked on me. He stroked my hair and said,
“You’re gonna be okay.” Then he walked outside, sternly yelling,
“Kristin! Aaron! Get over here!” I grinned, pleased to know that they would be punished for the five minutes of torture they had put me through.
Summertime
Imagination, grows and grows
Playing house, dress-up, Barbie dolls
I play and play as I pick my nose
Happy-go-lucky, running around so free
Jump rope, kick ball
I’m as happy as can be
Scraggily hair, dirt under nails
Sand castles, mud pies,
Playing with worms and picking up snails
Riding bikes, climbing trees
Scent of pine; imbedded in clothes
Playing tag, feel the breeze
Lemonade stands, earn a buck
Make some cash
For the ice cream truck
Ice cream so cold and so sweet
I’m in heaven
What a delightful treat
Sleepovers in the tree house
Junk food, giggling, scary stories
Holding back laughter, be as quiet as a mouse
Peacefulness, and worry free
As night time falls we begin to dream
Being a kid; I’m as happy as can be
Playing house, dress-up, Barbie dolls
I play and play as I pick my nose
Happy-go-lucky, running around so free
Jump rope, kick ball
I’m as happy as can be
Scraggily hair, dirt under nails
Sand castles, mud pies,
Playing with worms and picking up snails
Riding bikes, climbing trees
Scent of pine; imbedded in clothes
Playing tag, feel the breeze
Lemonade stands, earn a buck
Make some cash
For the ice cream truck
Ice cream so cold and so sweet
I’m in heaven
What a delightful treat
Sleepovers in the tree house
Junk food, giggling, scary stories
Holding back laughter, be as quiet as a mouse
Peacefulness, and worry free
As night time falls we begin to dream
Being a kid; I’m as happy as can be
Six Seconds
I.
Six seconds. That was all the time it took to change two lives. In the time it takes to tie your shoe; put on a pair of jeans, zip and button; login to facebook; wash your hands; unlock your front door; or turn on the ignition to your car…
In six sweet seconds, everything unfolded before her eyes. The wheel to her 98’ Honda Prelude jerked right, searing her forearm and the front end of her car crumpled toward her. The metallic free mass floated weightlessly across three lanes, but the strap across her chest locked, making her torso snap painfully back against the seat.
The windshield burst in all directions, glittering in the sun like diamonds, and flew across the pavement into the intersection. The other car rebounded, recoiling from the impact in the direction it had come from. A boy sailed from the vehicle. She squinted as a whoosh of wreckage and air struck her face, but her narrowed eyes continued to follow like an unwavering magnet as he skidded to a halt in the open field adjacent to the road. All that could escape from her lips was a yelp, as a puff of white canvas and fine dust entered her mouth and made her gag.
The girl’s car finally rested, and for an instant an eerie calm resonated. Then shuddering one last time, fumes began to spew from the mangled front and the smoldering rage made its way to her nostrils as it saturated the car. As she lifted her fluttering eyelids, fluid formed in the corners from the murky vapors that stung. She clawed through the deflated bag, gulping rapidly for air, but instead fear and panic were inhaled. She caressed her face to make sure she was still whole, straining each muscle as she did so. Oh Jesus, at least I’m not dead, she thought, but she found it peculiar that she didn’t see a white light or her whole life didn’t flash before her eyes. Oh shit! A boy certainly flashed before her eyes though.
Frantically, her trembling hands fidgeted with the door but the impact had compressed it into awkward angles. She was losing valuable time. Releasing her safety belt, she scooted to the passenger side and opened the door. A bit nauseated, she steadied both feet firmly on the ground. Shifting her weight she attempted to stand but harshly collapsed instead. She eagerly scoped the area for the young man and located him a little ways down the side of the road, about 50 feet from her, in a lush field of weeds. She gathered as much composure she could muster, and grabbed for handfuls of earth in order to drag herself to him.
His body distorted, legs one direction, arms sprawled wide, and his head crooked back a bit, but she could see his delicate face completely. Fresh, ruby slashes were etched in his exposed skin, a hideous gash above his brow was leaking immensely. His mouth gaped slightly open, his eyes peacefully sealed. In desperation, she gently fingered his neck for a pulse. A faint throb fluctuated in his glands, but his complexion was clammy and pale. She was unsure of how much longer he had. Something began to drain from her as well, her vigor was fading. All around her, the road, and the shards of metal, glass, and weeds began to blur. She grabbed his hand and slumped beside him. “Stay with me, everything is going to be okay, help is coming,” she wasn’t sure if she was whispering it to him or herself…
II.
“So pardon me while I burst into flames, I've had enough of the world, and it's people's mindless games,” his voice accompanied the music, while his fingers tap danced on the steering wheel to the sporadic drum beats. As the song progressed, so did his foot against the gas pedal and unknowingly, he propelled to 25 miles per hour over the recommended speed limit. He was in the zone, his gaze ahead of him unfocused because this was his daily route and he knew it all too well… the stop light that always took forever to turn green, the open field with potential plans to become an outdoor shopping mall in a few years, the crosswalk sign that now was dangling upside down, the pothole that he swerved around habitually since it hadn’t been fixed in two years, and beyond, a vast expanse of housing developments. “So pardon me while I burn and rise above the flame. Pardon me, pardon me. I'll never be the same.”
Suddenly a BANG reverberated from the rear of his vehicle, drowning out his tunes and daze. His foot automatically struck the brake pedal but it was unable to correct the malfunction. His pupils widened, and within 6 seconds many things occurred. He saw the double yellow line and then he was drifting over it. A haze of a green bulk shot towards him. For one abrupt instant, his eyes met those of the girl inside. After that, the green collided head on, while slithers of glass showered his face as his arms flew up to shield himself. Next, gravity wrenched his entire body outward as he soared from the vehicle. While his muscles tightened, the fluid in his organs were pulverized and swirled around like ice cream in a blender. As he rocketed through the atmosphere, a jagged mass smacked his brow, slashing all the way to his skull.
He was five again. Weightless, he was zooming in midair from the swing in his backyard. Seconds earlier, he had finally reached full momentum on the swing; his feet pumping vertical towards the sky, back down, and then up again. The cylindrical, metal legs that supported the frame of the swing set hopped from the base in the soil, while his body suspended off the plastic where his bottom sat, then thumped back down. He had watched his older sister do it so many times but when it was his turn, every time he was about to let go of the braided plastic his little hands clung to, his whole body tingled and he would grasp tighter. But this time it was different, he was ready, he was going to be a big boy. Once he reached the pinnacle height, he released his hands and thrust his body forward. Free and soaring. It was amazing, the currents of fresh air tickled his face as he watched his surroundings smear into dabs of green, blue and white like a Gaussian blur. Now the forces were pulling him down, his arms flailed and snatched the air in hopes of an invisible safety bar to save him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he plummeted. His left arm made contact first with the solid soil and all 43 pounds of him followed. An excruciating pain shot through his arm and the rest of his body as he tumbled across the grassy landing.
His battered body was skidding along the vast field, his skeletal structure fracturing in numerous places from the blow of the hard ground and speed that his outline was moving at. His organs battered, many things inside of him had ruptured. Plasma and hemoglobin were traveling to places they were not meant to go. His intake of oxygen became heavier and the air was having trouble reaching his brain.
He began to cry, and cradled his limp arm. He wasn’t a big boy at all. The pain was way too unbearable; his shock had put him into a state of bewilderment and all he wanted was his mommy. He continued to keep his eyes shut hoping it would shut out the pain as well. It was odd how he could go from one of the best feelings in the world to one of the worst.
Somewhere, a far distance away, his sister’s hand embraced his own and could hear her utter, “Stay with me, everything is going to be okay, help is coming…”
Six seconds. That was all the time it took to change two lives. In the time it takes to tie your shoe; put on a pair of jeans, zip and button; login to facebook; wash your hands; unlock your front door; or turn on the ignition to your car…
In six sweet seconds, everything unfolded before her eyes. The wheel to her 98’ Honda Prelude jerked right, searing her forearm and the front end of her car crumpled toward her. The metallic free mass floated weightlessly across three lanes, but the strap across her chest locked, making her torso snap painfully back against the seat.
The windshield burst in all directions, glittering in the sun like diamonds, and flew across the pavement into the intersection. The other car rebounded, recoiling from the impact in the direction it had come from. A boy sailed from the vehicle. She squinted as a whoosh of wreckage and air struck her face, but her narrowed eyes continued to follow like an unwavering magnet as he skidded to a halt in the open field adjacent to the road. All that could escape from her lips was a yelp, as a puff of white canvas and fine dust entered her mouth and made her gag.
The girl’s car finally rested, and for an instant an eerie calm resonated. Then shuddering one last time, fumes began to spew from the mangled front and the smoldering rage made its way to her nostrils as it saturated the car. As she lifted her fluttering eyelids, fluid formed in the corners from the murky vapors that stung. She clawed through the deflated bag, gulping rapidly for air, but instead fear and panic were inhaled. She caressed her face to make sure she was still whole, straining each muscle as she did so. Oh Jesus, at least I’m not dead, she thought, but she found it peculiar that she didn’t see a white light or her whole life didn’t flash before her eyes. Oh shit! A boy certainly flashed before her eyes though.
Frantically, her trembling hands fidgeted with the door but the impact had compressed it into awkward angles. She was losing valuable time. Releasing her safety belt, she scooted to the passenger side and opened the door. A bit nauseated, she steadied both feet firmly on the ground. Shifting her weight she attempted to stand but harshly collapsed instead. She eagerly scoped the area for the young man and located him a little ways down the side of the road, about 50 feet from her, in a lush field of weeds. She gathered as much composure she could muster, and grabbed for handfuls of earth in order to drag herself to him.
His body distorted, legs one direction, arms sprawled wide, and his head crooked back a bit, but she could see his delicate face completely. Fresh, ruby slashes were etched in his exposed skin, a hideous gash above his brow was leaking immensely. His mouth gaped slightly open, his eyes peacefully sealed. In desperation, she gently fingered his neck for a pulse. A faint throb fluctuated in his glands, but his complexion was clammy and pale. She was unsure of how much longer he had. Something began to drain from her as well, her vigor was fading. All around her, the road, and the shards of metal, glass, and weeds began to blur. She grabbed his hand and slumped beside him. “Stay with me, everything is going to be okay, help is coming,” she wasn’t sure if she was whispering it to him or herself…
II.
“So pardon me while I burst into flames, I've had enough of the world, and it's people's mindless games,” his voice accompanied the music, while his fingers tap danced on the steering wheel to the sporadic drum beats. As the song progressed, so did his foot against the gas pedal and unknowingly, he propelled to 25 miles per hour over the recommended speed limit. He was in the zone, his gaze ahead of him unfocused because this was his daily route and he knew it all too well… the stop light that always took forever to turn green, the open field with potential plans to become an outdoor shopping mall in a few years, the crosswalk sign that now was dangling upside down, the pothole that he swerved around habitually since it hadn’t been fixed in two years, and beyond, a vast expanse of housing developments. “So pardon me while I burn and rise above the flame. Pardon me, pardon me. I'll never be the same.”
Suddenly a BANG reverberated from the rear of his vehicle, drowning out his tunes and daze. His foot automatically struck the brake pedal but it was unable to correct the malfunction. His pupils widened, and within 6 seconds many things occurred. He saw the double yellow line and then he was drifting over it. A haze of a green bulk shot towards him. For one abrupt instant, his eyes met those of the girl inside. After that, the green collided head on, while slithers of glass showered his face as his arms flew up to shield himself. Next, gravity wrenched his entire body outward as he soared from the vehicle. While his muscles tightened, the fluid in his organs were pulverized and swirled around like ice cream in a blender. As he rocketed through the atmosphere, a jagged mass smacked his brow, slashing all the way to his skull.
He was five again. Weightless, he was zooming in midair from the swing in his backyard. Seconds earlier, he had finally reached full momentum on the swing; his feet pumping vertical towards the sky, back down, and then up again. The cylindrical, metal legs that supported the frame of the swing set hopped from the base in the soil, while his body suspended off the plastic where his bottom sat, then thumped back down. He had watched his older sister do it so many times but when it was his turn, every time he was about to let go of the braided plastic his little hands clung to, his whole body tingled and he would grasp tighter. But this time it was different, he was ready, he was going to be a big boy. Once he reached the pinnacle height, he released his hands and thrust his body forward. Free and soaring. It was amazing, the currents of fresh air tickled his face as he watched his surroundings smear into dabs of green, blue and white like a Gaussian blur. Now the forces were pulling him down, his arms flailed and snatched the air in hopes of an invisible safety bar to save him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he plummeted. His left arm made contact first with the solid soil and all 43 pounds of him followed. An excruciating pain shot through his arm and the rest of his body as he tumbled across the grassy landing.
His battered body was skidding along the vast field, his skeletal structure fracturing in numerous places from the blow of the hard ground and speed that his outline was moving at. His organs battered, many things inside of him had ruptured. Plasma and hemoglobin were traveling to places they were not meant to go. His intake of oxygen became heavier and the air was having trouble reaching his brain.
He began to cry, and cradled his limp arm. He wasn’t a big boy at all. The pain was way too unbearable; his shock had put him into a state of bewilderment and all he wanted was his mommy. He continued to keep his eyes shut hoping it would shut out the pain as well. It was odd how he could go from one of the best feelings in the world to one of the worst.
Somewhere, a far distance away, his sister’s hand embraced his own and could hear her utter, “Stay with me, everything is going to be okay, help is coming…”
Girl problems
“Brenda, why don’t you ever replace the milk? I’m getting so fed up when I wake up in the morning and don’t have any milk for my cereal. If it runs out, replace it! It’s not that hard.”
“Oh, heaven forbid you don’t get to eat first thing in the morning. It wouldn’t hurt if you skipped breakfast every once in a while.”
“Really?! You’re changing the subject. You do that a lot --if it’s not what you want to talk about. Well we need to get this sorted out. You never do anything around here. When’s the last time you cleaned the crumbs from your crusty bagels around the toaster? You never empty the trash or clean the bathroom. This place is filthy and you just parade around here like you’re some queen.”
“Excuse me, ‘Miss my mommy and daddy pay for everything.’ Like oh my god life is so hard. At least I know what hard work is. Anyway, I’m just trying to give you some friendly advice. It’s the truth and sometimes it hurts pfff. Didn’t mommy teach you that when you were growing up or was she too busy spoiling you.”
“Oh don’t even start. You can’t use that “I’m too tired to do anything because I have to work and go to school.’ Maybe if you weren’t so busy spending every waking moment serving your boyfriend hand and foot you’d have time to do something productive around here. Oh and pleasing your boyfriend does not count as a ‘job.’ I’m not your maid either.”
“Haha. It’s good for you to get a taste of what it’s like to do household work like your little servants at home. So you hungry, I’m going to go get something to eat?”
“God you are such a bitch. I give up, you are impossible.”
“Yeah, I know. Come on, let’s go get something to eat.”
“Oh, heaven forbid you don’t get to eat first thing in the morning. It wouldn’t hurt if you skipped breakfast every once in a while.”
“Really?! You’re changing the subject. You do that a lot --if it’s not what you want to talk about. Well we need to get this sorted out. You never do anything around here. When’s the last time you cleaned the crumbs from your crusty bagels around the toaster? You never empty the trash or clean the bathroom. This place is filthy and you just parade around here like you’re some queen.”
“Excuse me, ‘Miss my mommy and daddy pay for everything.’ Like oh my god life is so hard. At least I know what hard work is. Anyway, I’m just trying to give you some friendly advice. It’s the truth and sometimes it hurts pfff. Didn’t mommy teach you that when you were growing up or was she too busy spoiling you.”
“Oh don’t even start. You can’t use that “I’m too tired to do anything because I have to work and go to school.’ Maybe if you weren’t so busy spending every waking moment serving your boyfriend hand and foot you’d have time to do something productive around here. Oh and pleasing your boyfriend does not count as a ‘job.’ I’m not your maid either.”
“Haha. It’s good for you to get a taste of what it’s like to do household work like your little servants at home. So you hungry, I’m going to go get something to eat?”
“God you are such a bitch. I give up, you are impossible.”
“Yeah, I know. Come on, let’s go get something to eat.”
Twelve Stitches
Twelve Stitches
The twelve stitches entrenched in Jackie’s nose made a black, hook-like line from the crease of one nostril to the arch of the upper lip. Accompanying the stitches and the soon to be raw scare, came the dark bruises that follow a horrific accident. These formations around his mouth made all the neighborhood kids immediately see Jackie’s healing wound as mustache-like badge of honor. His whole body ached from a day filled with running, crying, and bleeding. Jackie had only one brother, whom he followed without pause. Coleman, the older one, had for their entire lives been the General in every army battalion, the Leader in every Manhunt expedition, and the captain in every kickball tournament. Even when his dominant older brother became a neighborhood tyrant and was eventually mutinied from his five-star commander position, Jackie followed. The two brothers were inseparable, always with Jackie standing in total admiration of everything his older brother was.
The two boys scurried side by side to the center space between the apartment complexes. To a kid, this place was perfect, complete with rusty swing sets and mounds of heavy dirt to make forts and secret hideouts. Children would come here from all over to break glass bottles, hit things with sticks, and to be exactly what children needed to be. And, when the kids would eventually leave, their skin and hair would be filthy with the dirt and mud and their teeth would show the color of the dust. The two walking side by side stopped to look at the landscape. The little one wore a dusty teenage mutant ninja turtles tank top with crazy purple geometric shapes. He wore matching purple gloves that for some reason smelled of cat urine, (the cause for such a pungent smell was never determined). On the little boys feet were brand new Wayne Gretzky inspired “number 99” tennis shoes complete with white hockey-skate laces. The shoes looked abnormally large for such a small boy but Jackie wore them with pride. The larger boy had a sloppy t-shirt that was too short for his big round belly. He wore sweatpants and old running shoes with no socks. He had a thick blond flattop like Vanilla Ice that unfortunately made his head seem too large for his body.
The two brothers had gotten into a little trouble with their parents in the previous month digging holes. The menial act of digging was so pleasurable for them, they hadn’t known when to stop and before long, large trashcan sized holes canvassed the landscape. They’d sneak out at night with their shovels and flashlights ready to cut the land. The lawns got so severe with damage; the Major living two apartments down got his prized Ford F-150 stuck. The major had called the police, who had come to the conclusion that a pack of wild dogs and gofers had been destroying the grass mounds in their neighborhood. They never found out who the real culprits were, but now their mother had a reason as to why the boys’ sheets remained so filthy.
Coleman cleared his throat, spit, and wiped his mouth on his shirt. “Jackie, what you wanna do? Mom said we could stay out for another hour.” The little one shrugged his shoulders. “Hey you still got your remote control racecar charged? Coleman asked.
“Yeah, but its still charging.” Jackie replied. “It says it’s supposed to charge for eight hours before we can use it again.”
“Eight hours?” Coleman asked with his mouth open.
“Yeah eight hours. It’s a big battery pack. It’ll run about forty-five minutes of race time.”
Remote control racecars weren’t powerful enough to hold long charges, which unfortunately made the boys constantly fish-out the dead car. It would fly off of a jump, hit the ground, die, and slide into deep mud pits and drainage pipes. Disappointed at this, the boys sat down and started throwing around golf ball sized rocks at the pitiful old skeleton of a swing set that classified the area a “family neighborhood”. In the winter, the wind would blow the swings back and forth with high pitch cries and make the area look and sound like a desolate ghost town.
“Hey what’s that shiny thing buried over there?” Jackie said. He walked over and reached down to the shiny partially interred item and picked up what looked to be a metal golf club. On the top of the old club said “three wood”.
“Cool.” Jackie cried as he thrust the head of the club into his shoulder like a soldier firing a rifle. He ran up and down the dirt mounds with his weapon, shooting at anything that could have been taken for an enemy on the battlefield. Jackie stopped when he saw one of the small round rocks. He lined the rock up like a real golf ball, lifted the club over his head and swung. The rock flew over the courtyard and pelted the fence on the other side leaving a white dent in the dried wood.
“Awesome!” Coleman yelled with excitement. He walked over to Jackie and ripped the club from his hands.
“Hey give it back! It’s mine. I saw it first. Now give it back!”
“Come on Jacky-jack.” The older one replied. “Lemme just try it once. Please can I try it once, without you crying like a little girl?”
“Fine, but give it back after.”
“All right I’ll make this one really skids!” exclaimed Coleman.
He took the club and much like Harrison’s go, lined up a round rock for complete destruction. Harrison stood six feet behind growing impatient for his next chance to hit another one.
“Stand farther back.” Coleman said.
At this, Jackie took another step back to be safe.
“Watch this, its going to be awesome.”
Coleman gripped the club with his dusty hands touching the rubber grip with his dirty fingernails… the club felt rigid and heavy to the touch. He hesitated for a few moments… widened his stance… hesitated… tightened his whole body, and with an explosion, jerked backward into the up swing. From Jackie’s point of view, the club came for him in slow motion. The evil sphere at the end of the metal shaft turned into a heat-seeking projectile. He could tell that the steel club’s trajectory was in line with his face but there was no time. The club connected with the soft spot between Jackie’s upper lip and his little nose. The impact on his face made a sharp crack, similar to that of the first rock hitting the wooden fence. Like the scene in the Matrix, where Neo tries to dodge the bullets, Jackie fell to the ground. He cupped his nose and got up quickly.
“OUCH! That hurt Coleman…” The little one said. “Cole? What’s wrong?”
But Coleman couldn’t speak. His mouth remained open, trembling as he stared into image of Jackie’s face. The blood came, like an army of fire ants swarming out of their mound to wage war on foreign disturbances. It poured out all over Harrison’s tank top, his hands, and even his new shoes. The older brother, frightened by what he had just done, froze.
Jackie looked down at the blood smothering his hands and clothes. When he saw the vast amount of that rich color, Jackie panicked.
“Oh my god” He cried. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Tears swelled up in his eyes and sobs came as he tasted blood. The little brother fell to his knees crying.
“Help me! Jackie gasped. But Coleman couldn’t move. Like a statue, he watched as his friend bled all over the grass and dirt. Jackie’s older brother turned around and ran away, leaving him in the dirt. Jackie’s heart pounded and he could feel the blood in his body moving to his face. He could feel the throbbing of his nose, and the blood pumping in his gums. With each beat, came a warm throb. He mustered what was left of his strength and got up and started running. He ran, and ran. He wanted his mom and he knew where his she was. People starred as he ran, shocked at the image of a hysterical Zombie-boy running through the streets. A tiny kid with blood and snot everywhere flying past them. Some people tried to help, but his sobs and panic could not be calmed. Jackie lost his energy. Slowly he fell to the ground, bloody and tired.
He lay on the operating table in the hospital with the warm light engulfing his little body. In his bones, Jackie felt the pure loss of adrenaline. A blanket was put over his head with a small opening for his nose to be operated on. This instantly reminded him of those large, plastic, and floppy dog collars. Jackie smiled as he pictured himself as a wild dog, digging holes all day. He floated on as the twelve stitches reattached his face. The Novocain shots to his nose made him twitch as the nerve-endings slowly quieted. All was quiet except for the sudden and involuntary twitches of a little patient.
The twelve stitches entrenched in Jackie’s nose made a black, hook-like line from the crease of one nostril to the arch of the upper lip. Accompanying the stitches and the soon to be raw scare, came the dark bruises that follow a horrific accident. These formations around his mouth made all the neighborhood kids immediately see Jackie’s healing wound as mustache-like badge of honor. His whole body ached from a day filled with running, crying, and bleeding. Jackie had only one brother, whom he followed without pause. Coleman, the older one, had for their entire lives been the General in every army battalion, the Leader in every Manhunt expedition, and the captain in every kickball tournament. Even when his dominant older brother became a neighborhood tyrant and was eventually mutinied from his five-star commander position, Jackie followed. The two brothers were inseparable, always with Jackie standing in total admiration of everything his older brother was.
The two boys scurried side by side to the center space between the apartment complexes. To a kid, this place was perfect, complete with rusty swing sets and mounds of heavy dirt to make forts and secret hideouts. Children would come here from all over to break glass bottles, hit things with sticks, and to be exactly what children needed to be. And, when the kids would eventually leave, their skin and hair would be filthy with the dirt and mud and their teeth would show the color of the dust. The two walking side by side stopped to look at the landscape. The little one wore a dusty teenage mutant ninja turtles tank top with crazy purple geometric shapes. He wore matching purple gloves that for some reason smelled of cat urine, (the cause for such a pungent smell was never determined). On the little boys feet were brand new Wayne Gretzky inspired “number 99” tennis shoes complete with white hockey-skate laces. The shoes looked abnormally large for such a small boy but Jackie wore them with pride. The larger boy had a sloppy t-shirt that was too short for his big round belly. He wore sweatpants and old running shoes with no socks. He had a thick blond flattop like Vanilla Ice that unfortunately made his head seem too large for his body.
The two brothers had gotten into a little trouble with their parents in the previous month digging holes. The menial act of digging was so pleasurable for them, they hadn’t known when to stop and before long, large trashcan sized holes canvassed the landscape. They’d sneak out at night with their shovels and flashlights ready to cut the land. The lawns got so severe with damage; the Major living two apartments down got his prized Ford F-150 stuck. The major had called the police, who had come to the conclusion that a pack of wild dogs and gofers had been destroying the grass mounds in their neighborhood. They never found out who the real culprits were, but now their mother had a reason as to why the boys’ sheets remained so filthy.
Coleman cleared his throat, spit, and wiped his mouth on his shirt. “Jackie, what you wanna do? Mom said we could stay out for another hour.” The little one shrugged his shoulders. “Hey you still got your remote control racecar charged? Coleman asked.
“Yeah, but its still charging.” Jackie replied. “It says it’s supposed to charge for eight hours before we can use it again.”
“Eight hours?” Coleman asked with his mouth open.
“Yeah eight hours. It’s a big battery pack. It’ll run about forty-five minutes of race time.”
Remote control racecars weren’t powerful enough to hold long charges, which unfortunately made the boys constantly fish-out the dead car. It would fly off of a jump, hit the ground, die, and slide into deep mud pits and drainage pipes. Disappointed at this, the boys sat down and started throwing around golf ball sized rocks at the pitiful old skeleton of a swing set that classified the area a “family neighborhood”. In the winter, the wind would blow the swings back and forth with high pitch cries and make the area look and sound like a desolate ghost town.
“Hey what’s that shiny thing buried over there?” Jackie said. He walked over and reached down to the shiny partially interred item and picked up what looked to be a metal golf club. On the top of the old club said “three wood”.
“Cool.” Jackie cried as he thrust the head of the club into his shoulder like a soldier firing a rifle. He ran up and down the dirt mounds with his weapon, shooting at anything that could have been taken for an enemy on the battlefield. Jackie stopped when he saw one of the small round rocks. He lined the rock up like a real golf ball, lifted the club over his head and swung. The rock flew over the courtyard and pelted the fence on the other side leaving a white dent in the dried wood.
“Awesome!” Coleman yelled with excitement. He walked over to Jackie and ripped the club from his hands.
“Hey give it back! It’s mine. I saw it first. Now give it back!”
“Come on Jacky-jack.” The older one replied. “Lemme just try it once. Please can I try it once, without you crying like a little girl?”
“Fine, but give it back after.”
“All right I’ll make this one really skids!” exclaimed Coleman.
He took the club and much like Harrison’s go, lined up a round rock for complete destruction. Harrison stood six feet behind growing impatient for his next chance to hit another one.
“Stand farther back.” Coleman said.
At this, Jackie took another step back to be safe.
“Watch this, its going to be awesome.”
Coleman gripped the club with his dusty hands touching the rubber grip with his dirty fingernails… the club felt rigid and heavy to the touch. He hesitated for a few moments… widened his stance… hesitated… tightened his whole body, and with an explosion, jerked backward into the up swing. From Jackie’s point of view, the club came for him in slow motion. The evil sphere at the end of the metal shaft turned into a heat-seeking projectile. He could tell that the steel club’s trajectory was in line with his face but there was no time. The club connected with the soft spot between Jackie’s upper lip and his little nose. The impact on his face made a sharp crack, similar to that of the first rock hitting the wooden fence. Like the scene in the Matrix, where Neo tries to dodge the bullets, Jackie fell to the ground. He cupped his nose and got up quickly.
“OUCH! That hurt Coleman…” The little one said. “Cole? What’s wrong?”
But Coleman couldn’t speak. His mouth remained open, trembling as he stared into image of Jackie’s face. The blood came, like an army of fire ants swarming out of their mound to wage war on foreign disturbances. It poured out all over Harrison’s tank top, his hands, and even his new shoes. The older brother, frightened by what he had just done, froze.
Jackie looked down at the blood smothering his hands and clothes. When he saw the vast amount of that rich color, Jackie panicked.
“Oh my god” He cried. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Tears swelled up in his eyes and sobs came as he tasted blood. The little brother fell to his knees crying.
“Help me! Jackie gasped. But Coleman couldn’t move. Like a statue, he watched as his friend bled all over the grass and dirt. Jackie’s older brother turned around and ran away, leaving him in the dirt. Jackie’s heart pounded and he could feel the blood in his body moving to his face. He could feel the throbbing of his nose, and the blood pumping in his gums. With each beat, came a warm throb. He mustered what was left of his strength and got up and started running. He ran, and ran. He wanted his mom and he knew where his she was. People starred as he ran, shocked at the image of a hysterical Zombie-boy running through the streets. A tiny kid with blood and snot everywhere flying past them. Some people tried to help, but his sobs and panic could not be calmed. Jackie lost his energy. Slowly he fell to the ground, bloody and tired.
He lay on the operating table in the hospital with the warm light engulfing his little body. In his bones, Jackie felt the pure loss of adrenaline. A blanket was put over his head with a small opening for his nose to be operated on. This instantly reminded him of those large, plastic, and floppy dog collars. Jackie smiled as he pictured himself as a wild dog, digging holes all day. He floated on as the twelve stitches reattached his face. The Novocain shots to his nose made him twitch as the nerve-endings slowly quieted. All was quiet except for the sudden and involuntary twitches of a little patient.
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