My friends, I am afraid I must give you some bad news. For the next three weeks I shall not be blogging. Things are piling up here as the end of the semester draws near.
Never fear, though. On the 17th, Owen Tucker shall return.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Thanksgiving
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Oh. Wrong holiday? I knew that! What I meant to say is, Happy Thanksgiving! May you eat turkey evermore and count thine blessings.
Have a good day everyone.
Oh. Wrong holiday? I knew that! What I meant to say is, Happy Thanksgiving! May you eat turkey evermore and count thine blessings.
Have a good day everyone.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Newcomer
Note from Owen Tucker: You may read the paragraphs following this and become righteously indignant, saying that these legends were horribly mangled. This, I will not argue with. All I can say is that I’m relating these things as they happened to me. Who knows? Maybe we’ve had the wrong legends this whole time.
“Pft, that’s nothing. I never knew my mother, father, or even an uncle!”
I spun around to find the source of this new voice, which happened to be an dark skinned kid in robes floating up on a magic carpet about ten feet up.
My my. The nut jobs really are attracted to you.
The kid frowned. “Your ring is really very rude. You should do something about that.”
I gape at him. “You can hear him?”
“Of course I can.”
“But, how?”
The kid held up his right hand and wiggled his ring finger, upon which a ring was sitting.
“You’ve got a magic ring too?”
He grinned. “No duh.”
I glared at Dave and Poncho. “So much for that whole mighty, powerful, and really unique junk.”
I am far more powerful than that fellow’s ring.
So am I, as it has been established that I’m more powerful than Davey.
No such thing has been established!
The kid chuckled. “Yeah, Cameon, I completely agree.”
I scratched my head. Things were getting a bit more complicated than usual.
“So, uh,” I started. “Who’s Cameon?”
“My ring.”
“Oh. But I didn’t hear him say anything.”
The kid shrugged. “Sucks to be you, then. Because he just said something.”
“You are a very insolent boy,” Dan interjected. “I believe we should curb his tongue, Sir Owen.”
Fire formed around his hand.
I rolled my hands. “You’re really going to shoot a ten year old kid with a fireball?”
“Hey!” the kid objected. “I’m twelve.”
“Same diff, little punk. What’s your name anyway?”
“Alabbin.”
I frowned. “Say what again?”
“Alabbin. Haven’t you heard of me?”
I shook my head. “Nope, sure haven’t. I’ve heard of Aladdin, though.”
“You must have heard of me! I am the famous Alabbin. I steal from the rich and give to the poor!”
I held up a hand. “Wait wait wait. That’s Robin Hood there.”
He frowned. “Who is Robin Hood?”
“He’s the guy who steals from the rich and gives to the poor.”
Alabbin shrugged. “Never heard of him. But he is clearly trying to ride off of my reputation.”
“What reputation?”
“Haven’t you been listening? I’m the most notorious ‘criminal’,” he made the accompanying hand gestures with the word, “in the ten kingdoms.”
“What ten kingdoms?”
Alabbin was silent for a few seconds, then he nodded. “I agree. He is rather dense.”
“Hey! No need to be rude here.”
He shrugged and grinned. “Simply agreeing with my good, truth telling friend.”
I glared at him. “Be that as it may, still no call. Now, since you are obviously Aladdin in disguise, I assume you have a magic lamp?”
He glanced up at the sky. “Lamp? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oho, sure. Now I know you definitely have a magic lamp. And at the moment, a magic lamp would be a really big help. So might we be able to borrow it for a moment?”
He rubbed his chin. “Hm, lemme think about that. No!”
With that, he jerked his carpet around and sped away.
“After him!” I yelled and took off running.
Well, running through sand is slow business, and Alabbin began getting smaller and smaller in the distance.
“We’re losing him! Can’t you make us fly or something, Dave? What good is a magic ring if I have to walk everywhere?”
And just like that I was streaking along ten feet off the ground.
To be continued…
“Pft, that’s nothing. I never knew my mother, father, or even an uncle!”
I spun around to find the source of this new voice, which happened to be an dark skinned kid in robes floating up on a magic carpet about ten feet up.
My my. The nut jobs really are attracted to you.
The kid frowned. “Your ring is really very rude. You should do something about that.”
I gape at him. “You can hear him?”
“Of course I can.”
“But, how?”
The kid held up his right hand and wiggled his ring finger, upon which a ring was sitting.
“You’ve got a magic ring too?”
He grinned. “No duh.”
I glared at Dave and Poncho. “So much for that whole mighty, powerful, and really unique junk.”
I am far more powerful than that fellow’s ring.
So am I, as it has been established that I’m more powerful than Davey.
No such thing has been established!
The kid chuckled. “Yeah, Cameon, I completely agree.”
I scratched my head. Things were getting a bit more complicated than usual.
“So, uh,” I started. “Who’s Cameon?”
“My ring.”
“Oh. But I didn’t hear him say anything.”
The kid shrugged. “Sucks to be you, then. Because he just said something.”
“You are a very insolent boy,” Dan interjected. “I believe we should curb his tongue, Sir Owen.”
Fire formed around his hand.
I rolled my hands. “You’re really going to shoot a ten year old kid with a fireball?”
“Hey!” the kid objected. “I’m twelve.”
“Same diff, little punk. What’s your name anyway?”
“Alabbin.”
I frowned. “Say what again?”
“Alabbin. Haven’t you heard of me?”
I shook my head. “Nope, sure haven’t. I’ve heard of Aladdin, though.”
“You must have heard of me! I am the famous Alabbin. I steal from the rich and give to the poor!”
I held up a hand. “Wait wait wait. That’s Robin Hood there.”
He frowned. “Who is Robin Hood?”
“He’s the guy who steals from the rich and gives to the poor.”
Alabbin shrugged. “Never heard of him. But he is clearly trying to ride off of my reputation.”
“What reputation?”
“Haven’t you been listening? I’m the most notorious ‘criminal’,” he made the accompanying hand gestures with the word, “in the ten kingdoms.”
“What ten kingdoms?”
Alabbin was silent for a few seconds, then he nodded. “I agree. He is rather dense.”
“Hey! No need to be rude here.”
He shrugged and grinned. “Simply agreeing with my good, truth telling friend.”
I glared at him. “Be that as it may, still no call. Now, since you are obviously Aladdin in disguise, I assume you have a magic lamp?”
He glanced up at the sky. “Lamp? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oho, sure. Now I know you definitely have a magic lamp. And at the moment, a magic lamp would be a really big help. So might we be able to borrow it for a moment?”
He rubbed his chin. “Hm, lemme think about that. No!”
With that, he jerked his carpet around and sped away.
“After him!” I yelled and took off running.
Well, running through sand is slow business, and Alabbin began getting smaller and smaller in the distance.
“We’re losing him! Can’t you make us fly or something, Dave? What good is a magic ring if I have to walk everywhere?”
And just like that I was streaking along ten feet off the ground.
To be continued…
Thursday, November 15, 2012
We Wish You A Merry Christmas!
So. We meet again.
Activate tree powers!
(For those not in the loop, that means I just turned into a tree which somehow saved the universe. How I accomplished this is for me to know and you to not.)
And how the above sentences in any way relate to the rest of this post is for someone to know and me to wonder about. However, I do think that posts should have some relevancy. That there should be a point around which the whole post revolves. Usually something like that helps.
Not today.
Today we have what is best known as irrelevancy (I was going to say nonrelevancy, but it turns out that’s not a word). It’s the thing where I say something like, if the world were to stop turning right now you would probably die, and it makes complete sense. Of course, when you think about that one a bit more, it really does make perfect sense. But if your dog ate your pickle, your cat would die in a terrible car accident. And that would not make very much sense at all. Although it would imply that the world is not quite right, which would be correct in the current circumstantial circumstances. If you were the one that ate that cheeseburger on the 22nd of March 2003. If that wasn’t you, well then I’m sorry to say that you aren’t the lucky bugger who just became a million dollars richer. But if you would like to know the chap’s name, you can ask the nice lady at the condiment bar. She’ll tell you. Or she could just smile and hand you some napkins and ketchup. That’s always possible too. It’s a bit of a gamble though. Because if she doesn’t do either of those things, you’ll probably die. And if you take the ketchup, you’ll definitely die. But if you refuse the napkins, you just might live. So long as the flying spiders don’t get you first. Oh, and the grammar Nazis. Those guys are vicious. Hitler had no idea what he created.
Hey, did you know that gravity is a lie? Yup, it’s true. Gravity is not what keeps us glued to this planet. And I, brilliant as I am, have discovered what the truth is. The fact is that nothing keeps us here. That’s right, nothing at all. There is no force, tangible or otherwise, that is keeping us from floating away. Do you know why? Okay then, I’ll tell you why. It’s because we believe that gravity keeps us here. It is impossible for us to wrap our minds around the possibility that gravity is nonexistent and that we could fly if we would simply acknowledge this fact. After all, what is gravity? Naught but an idea brought about by an apple to some dreamer dreaming a dream under a tree. Having dreamed his dream, the apple dropped upon his head and dispelled that dream, prompting a single word to his mind. Gravity. A word the entire world accepted as truth. A deception that sweep the earth like no other. Never questioned, never doubted.
Until now.
Cue dramatic music! DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNN!
Hhhmmm. Y’know, I kinda think the dramatic music there rather killed the drama. Funny how that works, isn’t it?
Activate tree powers!
(For those not in the loop, that means I just turned into a tree which somehow saved the universe. How I accomplished this is for me to know and you to not.)
And how the above sentences in any way relate to the rest of this post is for someone to know and me to wonder about. However, I do think that posts should have some relevancy. That there should be a point around which the whole post revolves. Usually something like that helps.
Not today.
Today we have what is best known as irrelevancy (I was going to say nonrelevancy, but it turns out that’s not a word). It’s the thing where I say something like, if the world were to stop turning right now you would probably die, and it makes complete sense. Of course, when you think about that one a bit more, it really does make perfect sense. But if your dog ate your pickle, your cat would die in a terrible car accident. And that would not make very much sense at all. Although it would imply that the world is not quite right, which would be correct in the current circumstantial circumstances. If you were the one that ate that cheeseburger on the 22nd of March 2003. If that wasn’t you, well then I’m sorry to say that you aren’t the lucky bugger who just became a million dollars richer. But if you would like to know the chap’s name, you can ask the nice lady at the condiment bar. She’ll tell you. Or she could just smile and hand you some napkins and ketchup. That’s always possible too. It’s a bit of a gamble though. Because if she doesn’t do either of those things, you’ll probably die. And if you take the ketchup, you’ll definitely die. But if you refuse the napkins, you just might live. So long as the flying spiders don’t get you first. Oh, and the grammar Nazis. Those guys are vicious. Hitler had no idea what he created.
Hey, did you know that gravity is a lie? Yup, it’s true. Gravity is not what keeps us glued to this planet. And I, brilliant as I am, have discovered what the truth is. The fact is that nothing keeps us here. That’s right, nothing at all. There is no force, tangible or otherwise, that is keeping us from floating away. Do you know why? Okay then, I’ll tell you why. It’s because we believe that gravity keeps us here. It is impossible for us to wrap our minds around the possibility that gravity is nonexistent and that we could fly if we would simply acknowledge this fact. After all, what is gravity? Naught but an idea brought about by an apple to some dreamer dreaming a dream under a tree. Having dreamed his dream, the apple dropped upon his head and dispelled that dream, prompting a single word to his mind. Gravity. A word the entire world accepted as truth. A deception that sweep the earth like no other. Never questioned, never doubted.
Until now.
Cue dramatic music! DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNN!
Hhhmmm. Y’know, I kinda think the dramatic music there rather killed the drama. Funny how that works, isn’t it?
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Sand Grains and Mothers
The first thing that hit me, literally and figuratively, was the heat.
“It is quite hot here,” Dan said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Pretty darn like.”
As I take a closer look around, something seems off. Or, maybe on.
“Hey!” I yell, making the kids jump. “I think I recognize this place.”
“Are ya daft, laddie?” Wilfred scoffed. “It’s a desert. Big, sendy heels fer as far as ya can see. Thay all look tha sem.”
“Oh no,” I shook my head. “Not to me. I can tell by some of the sand grains.”
Dave snorted. Sand grains. Right.
MphmmmmM!
“Poncho, I will let you speak again on the condition that you and Dave do not bore me to tears with your hatred of each other. Okay?”
Mhm.
“All right. Dave, let him talk again.”
Must I really?
“Yes, yes you must.”
Very well.
Poncho sighed. Ah. Oh yes, that’s much better.
“Poncho!” Dan exclaimed. “My old friend! Where have you been?”
Do I really have to answer that?
I shook my head just a tad, but didn’t say anything.
In that case, Dan, continue to wonder.
“Why thank you, Poncho,” Dan said. “I believe I’ll do that.”
“Yes, good,” I said. “You have fun. Can we please get back to this familiar desert?”
All right, Owen. Just how, pray tell, can you distinguish between grains of sand?
“Well you see,” I reached down and grabbed a handful of sand. “Each grain is like a snowflake. No two are alike.” I pour the sand out until I have just a few grains left. “Now, if you look close enough, you can plainly see the difference.”
Wilfred landed on my hand next to the grains. “Are ya sure aboot thet, laddie?”
“Yes, yes I am. You of all, er, flies should be able to tell that.”
“Weel Ah’m afraid Ah cen’t.”
I held my ring hand up to my other hand. “How about you, Dave? Can you tell?”
Why yes. That grain on the right has a distinctive purple look while the other looks rather green.
“Exactly! Wait…” I looked again. “They do not! That one is yellow, and that one is brown. What are you, color blind?”
As ever, Davey, your sarcasm fails with amazing success.
Oh shut it, Poncho. You have never appreciated the fine arts.
“Hey! You two. Don’t even get started. We’ve got more important things to discuss. Because I have definitely seen this desert before.”
“Naw, laddie, Ah’m afraid you haven’t.”
“Don’t tell me what I haven’t seen!” I thought for a second. “Hhmm, that sounds really familiar.” I thought some more. “Oh well, I lost it.”
I’m thinking there is something seriously wrong with this boy.
And you’re just now figuring this out?
No. I thought that the first time he spoke. I just now decided to chuck all courtesy and say it out loud.
Oh, well, good for you then.
“You guys do know that I can hear you, right?”
Yes, of course.
Why would we be talking about you otherwise?
“Now that’s just rude. Didn’t your mothers teach you manners?”
Mothers? What mothers? We’re rings, we don’t have mothers.
“Oh. That’s…sad.”
No. It’s…actually…yeah…it is kind of sad…
Oh man up, Poncho.
But, Dave, I never had a mother!
Neither did I, but do you hear me crying about it?
No. But that’s because you’re coldhearted and cruel.
True.
“Okay, guys, I did not mean to start a pity party here.”
I am not engaging in any self-pity. I am perfectly functional even without a mother, thank you very much.
I never knew my mother!
To be continued…
“It is quite hot here,” Dan said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Pretty darn like.”
As I take a closer look around, something seems off. Or, maybe on.
“Hey!” I yell, making the kids jump. “I think I recognize this place.”
“Are ya daft, laddie?” Wilfred scoffed. “It’s a desert. Big, sendy heels fer as far as ya can see. Thay all look tha sem.”
“Oh no,” I shook my head. “Not to me. I can tell by some of the sand grains.”
Dave snorted. Sand grains. Right.
MphmmmmM!
“Poncho, I will let you speak again on the condition that you and Dave do not bore me to tears with your hatred of each other. Okay?”
Mhm.
“All right. Dave, let him talk again.”
Must I really?
“Yes, yes you must.”
Very well.
Poncho sighed. Ah. Oh yes, that’s much better.
“Poncho!” Dan exclaimed. “My old friend! Where have you been?”
Do I really have to answer that?
I shook my head just a tad, but didn’t say anything.
In that case, Dan, continue to wonder.
“Why thank you, Poncho,” Dan said. “I believe I’ll do that.”
“Yes, good,” I said. “You have fun. Can we please get back to this familiar desert?”
All right, Owen. Just how, pray tell, can you distinguish between grains of sand?
“Well you see,” I reached down and grabbed a handful of sand. “Each grain is like a snowflake. No two are alike.” I pour the sand out until I have just a few grains left. “Now, if you look close enough, you can plainly see the difference.”
Wilfred landed on my hand next to the grains. “Are ya sure aboot thet, laddie?”
“Yes, yes I am. You of all, er, flies should be able to tell that.”
“Weel Ah’m afraid Ah cen’t.”
I held my ring hand up to my other hand. “How about you, Dave? Can you tell?”
Why yes. That grain on the right has a distinctive purple look while the other looks rather green.
“Exactly! Wait…” I looked again. “They do not! That one is yellow, and that one is brown. What are you, color blind?”
As ever, Davey, your sarcasm fails with amazing success.
Oh shut it, Poncho. You have never appreciated the fine arts.
“Hey! You two. Don’t even get started. We’ve got more important things to discuss. Because I have definitely seen this desert before.”
“Naw, laddie, Ah’m afraid you haven’t.”
“Don’t tell me what I haven’t seen!” I thought for a second. “Hhmm, that sounds really familiar.” I thought some more. “Oh well, I lost it.”
I’m thinking there is something seriously wrong with this boy.
And you’re just now figuring this out?
No. I thought that the first time he spoke. I just now decided to chuck all courtesy and say it out loud.
Oh, well, good for you then.
“You guys do know that I can hear you, right?”
Yes, of course.
Why would we be talking about you otherwise?
“Now that’s just rude. Didn’t your mothers teach you manners?”
Mothers? What mothers? We’re rings, we don’t have mothers.
“Oh. That’s…sad.”
No. It’s…actually…yeah…it is kind of sad…
Oh man up, Poncho.
But, Dave, I never had a mother!
Neither did I, but do you hear me crying about it?
No. But that’s because you’re coldhearted and cruel.
True.
“Okay, guys, I did not mean to start a pity party here.”
I am not engaging in any self-pity. I am perfectly functional even without a mother, thank you very much.
I never knew my mother!
To be continued…
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Fallish Stuff
My friends (or enemies), the season that is known as fall is upon us. Unless of course you’re in a place like, uh, say Texas, where Christmas weather is high seventies. Which kind of sucks sometimes. Because right now, even though we’re already in November, the weather here is still bright, sunny, and hot. In November. Now that’s just wrong.
And you know something else wrong with November that is completely unrelated to the weather? Turkeys. Yes, I did just say turkeys. The fowls we devour on Thanksgiving Day. Those are indeed the ones I am referring to. Why are turkeys wrong? Because they are! Does everything need a reason to be wrong? Can’t something just be wrong because it is? Ugh, fine. You want a reason, I’ll give you a reason. But it is a terrible, terrible reason that may scar you for the rest of your life. If you really wish to know it, keep on reading. If you don’t, skip the next paragraph.
You wanted to know, so now you’ll know. This is the reason turkeys are wrong. The Turkey Holocaust. Otherwise known as, Thanksgiving. That’s right. The time of year when turkeys are rounded up and slaughtered in the millions. A day celebrated by countless thousands, millions, billions, trillions! Because it isn’t just this year. It wasn’t just last year. It was the year before that, and the year before that, and the year before that, and the year before that, and, I hope you’re beginning to see the pattern, the year before that! It has been going on for centuries. And growing for centuries. The meals becoming ever more extravagant. And the turkey remains the focal point of it all. Now, Thanksgiving wouldn’t be right without the turkey. Well, by all means, keep the turkey. There is nothing to say you can’t have the turkey. Just not fried and dead on your platters. I’m sure your turkey would love to join you for some cranberry sauce on Thanksgiving, and just maybe a bit of that pumpkin pie.
It’s like Elmo eating Big Bird, just because it’s Thanksgiving. Think of what kind of message that’s sending your children. “Hey kids. When the holiday gets here, remember, it’s national eat your bird friend day. Have fun.” Imagine the carnage that would ensue. Wait. No. On second thought, don’t imagine. It’s better left alone. The possibilities are too gruesome. Cats doing it is bad enough, the thought of little children joining in is simply too horrific. Doesn’t bear thinking about. Agh! Stop talking about it, would you! Now I can get these images out of my head. Oh man, I’m never getting a good night’s sleep again.
What I’m trying to say here is that as Thanksgiving approaches, just stop to think for a second. Think about your life, your family, your friends, everything you have. All that is good and wonderful about life. Then ask yourself this question. With all those wonderful things you have, do you really need to ruin that image of love and prosperity by bloodily murdering a turkey for your dinner?
And you know something else wrong with November that is completely unrelated to the weather? Turkeys. Yes, I did just say turkeys. The fowls we devour on Thanksgiving Day. Those are indeed the ones I am referring to. Why are turkeys wrong? Because they are! Does everything need a reason to be wrong? Can’t something just be wrong because it is? Ugh, fine. You want a reason, I’ll give you a reason. But it is a terrible, terrible reason that may scar you for the rest of your life. If you really wish to know it, keep on reading. If you don’t, skip the next paragraph.
You wanted to know, so now you’ll know. This is the reason turkeys are wrong. The Turkey Holocaust. Otherwise known as, Thanksgiving. That’s right. The time of year when turkeys are rounded up and slaughtered in the millions. A day celebrated by countless thousands, millions, billions, trillions! Because it isn’t just this year. It wasn’t just last year. It was the year before that, and the year before that, and the year before that, and the year before that, and, I hope you’re beginning to see the pattern, the year before that! It has been going on for centuries. And growing for centuries. The meals becoming ever more extravagant. And the turkey remains the focal point of it all. Now, Thanksgiving wouldn’t be right without the turkey. Well, by all means, keep the turkey. There is nothing to say you can’t have the turkey. Just not fried and dead on your platters. I’m sure your turkey would love to join you for some cranberry sauce on Thanksgiving, and just maybe a bit of that pumpkin pie.
It’s like Elmo eating Big Bird, just because it’s Thanksgiving. Think of what kind of message that’s sending your children. “Hey kids. When the holiday gets here, remember, it’s national eat your bird friend day. Have fun.” Imagine the carnage that would ensue. Wait. No. On second thought, don’t imagine. It’s better left alone. The possibilities are too gruesome. Cats doing it is bad enough, the thought of little children joining in is simply too horrific. Doesn’t bear thinking about. Agh! Stop talking about it, would you! Now I can get these images out of my head. Oh man, I’m never getting a good night’s sleep again.
What I’m trying to say here is that as Thanksgiving approaches, just stop to think for a second. Think about your life, your family, your friends, everything you have. All that is good and wonderful about life. Then ask yourself this question. With all those wonderful things you have, do you really need to ruin that image of love and prosperity by bloodily murdering a turkey for your dinner?
Monday, November 5, 2012
Around the Universe in Six Feet
Note: Sorry guys, no Owen today. Instead, here's a story about another kid I know.
This story is about a kid who was bored. He got so bored he found the nearest bottomless pit and threw himself into it. He fell the tiresome amount of five feet, and disappeared.
When he reappeared, he was in space and he wasn’t dead, just floating around. He waved his arms and legs, but it only spun him in circles and made him sick. Next he tried blowing himself around. He blew as hard as he could, but it didn’t do anything at all. A meteor flew by and he stopped mid-blow and stared. It was a very slow and strange meteor. It flew in lazy circles around him. It went round and round, making him sick again. Then it stopped in front of him. It hovered there, motionless and said.
“What are you doing?”
The kid stared at the meteor for several minutes before realizing that it had asked him a question.
“Oh, uh, I’m blowing myself someplace.” He thought the meteor was staring at him, but since it didn’t have a face he couldn’t tell for sure.
“You’re going real fast.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“You want a ride?” The meteor asked.
“Sure!”
“Hop on.”
“Okay.”
Without further ado, the kid hopped onto the meteor. As soon as the kid had taken hold, the meteor streaked off into space. Lucky the meteor had plenty of handholds, so the kid didn’t fall off. His transport flew up, faster and faster, then plunged straight down, into the black darkness of space. Then it shot off towards the sun.
“Look out!“ The kid yelled.
“Why?” The meteor asked.
“If we hit that, we’ll be crispified!”
“No we won’t.”
The meteor laughed as it headed straight for the sun. As it streaked closer and closer the kid screamed in fear, but the scream was lost in the empty space of space. They hit the sun and went right on going. There was a whole other world inside the sun. It was amazingly bright; everything was crystal clear, no clouds, darkness or shadows. Just light, everywhere and everything was pure light. The kid stared in amazement. There were light-people dancing around everywhere inside the sun, with no gravity of any kind. They floated, bounced, jumped and ran all over the place.
The meteor went in a slow circle, all the way around the inside of the sun. Then it shot up and burst outside, back into space. This time it headed directly for the planet Jupiter. It looked so small from the sun, but as they got closer, it grew bigger. They were in and out of it, poof! Just like that, streaking into the unknown beyond.
The kid saw another planet in the distance. It was big, it was huge, and it looked a lot like, Earth. The meteor had pulled a super sharp u-turn as soon as they had entered Jupiter and shot back to Earth. It slowed as they approached, until they were hovering above the earth.
“Why didn’t you bust into it?” The kid asked.
“Because I can’t.” The meteor answered. “If I did, we’d be flatter then pancakes.”
“Oh. Well, what now?”
“Now you get off.”
The meteor performed a quick flip and the kid fell the amazing amount of one foot and hit the bottom of the six foot cliff.
This story is about a kid who was bored. He got so bored he found the nearest bottomless pit and threw himself into it. He fell the tiresome amount of five feet, and disappeared.
When he reappeared, he was in space and he wasn’t dead, just floating around. He waved his arms and legs, but it only spun him in circles and made him sick. Next he tried blowing himself around. He blew as hard as he could, but it didn’t do anything at all. A meteor flew by and he stopped mid-blow and stared. It was a very slow and strange meteor. It flew in lazy circles around him. It went round and round, making him sick again. Then it stopped in front of him. It hovered there, motionless and said.
“What are you doing?”
The kid stared at the meteor for several minutes before realizing that it had asked him a question.
“Oh, uh, I’m blowing myself someplace.” He thought the meteor was staring at him, but since it didn’t have a face he couldn’t tell for sure.
“You’re going real fast.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“You want a ride?” The meteor asked.
“Sure!”
“Hop on.”
“Okay.”
Without further ado, the kid hopped onto the meteor. As soon as the kid had taken hold, the meteor streaked off into space. Lucky the meteor had plenty of handholds, so the kid didn’t fall off. His transport flew up, faster and faster, then plunged straight down, into the black darkness of space. Then it shot off towards the sun.
“Look out!“ The kid yelled.
“Why?” The meteor asked.
“If we hit that, we’ll be crispified!”
“No we won’t.”
The meteor laughed as it headed straight for the sun. As it streaked closer and closer the kid screamed in fear, but the scream was lost in the empty space of space. They hit the sun and went right on going. There was a whole other world inside the sun. It was amazingly bright; everything was crystal clear, no clouds, darkness or shadows. Just light, everywhere and everything was pure light. The kid stared in amazement. There were light-people dancing around everywhere inside the sun, with no gravity of any kind. They floated, bounced, jumped and ran all over the place.
The meteor went in a slow circle, all the way around the inside of the sun. Then it shot up and burst outside, back into space. This time it headed directly for the planet Jupiter. It looked so small from the sun, but as they got closer, it grew bigger. They were in and out of it, poof! Just like that, streaking into the unknown beyond.
The kid saw another planet in the distance. It was big, it was huge, and it looked a lot like, Earth. The meteor had pulled a super sharp u-turn as soon as they had entered Jupiter and shot back to Earth. It slowed as they approached, until they were hovering above the earth.
“Why didn’t you bust into it?” The kid asked.
“Because I can’t.” The meteor answered. “If I did, we’d be flatter then pancakes.”
“Oh. Well, what now?”
“Now you get off.”
The meteor performed a quick flip and the kid fell the amazing amount of one foot and hit the bottom of the six foot cliff.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Time for a Test
Tests. You gotta love them. Love to hate them that is. I mean really, who likes tests? Let’s face it, tests are hard, unpleasant, and just not nice all around. And if you’re thinking, “psh, whatever, I’ve got easy tests”, then those ain’t real tests. The very definition of the word “test” means something difficult. Something tough, not easy, that pushes you to the limit of your endurance! And then, when you get there, it kills you! Deader than a dead doornail made out of dead metal in a dead plant of deadness. Yes, that is pretty dead.
And there are so many freakin’ tests! School tests, school tests, school tests, oh hey, did I mention the school tests? They aren’t the only tests, of course, but for the early years of your life, those are the main ones. Then we’ve got the moral tests, courage tests, physiological tests, attention tests, patience tests, and all sorts of junky tests like that one there.
Here is a very difficult moral test for you. It is about an hour before dinnertime. Your mother has told you that you are not allowed to eat anything before dinner. BUT! You are very hungry. And you just happened to know that there is one cookie left in the cookie jar. Just one, no more, no less. Don’t forget, you are very hungry. The question is, should you eat the cookie, not eat the cookie, or feed the cookie to starving animal living outside under your shed?
This is a very serious dilemma. If you eat the cookie, you will be full and satisfied till dinnertime. A most satisfactory result. If you do not eat the cookie, you will be empty till dinner, not quite satisfactory. If you give the cookie to the starving animal that is living under your shed, your mother will think that you ate the cookie, never believing your story about the animal under your shed. A most unsatisfactory result. Thus, the obvious solution to this test is to eat the cookie!
Now, for a test of your courage. You must be an extremely courageous person if you are to succeed at this test. You’re at home. Your mother is driving home. She turns into the driveway (it’s a very long driveway) and her accelerator sticks. All the way down. You have three choices. You can jump in front of the car in the hopes that your body will provide sufficient cushion to make a difference. You can throw your little brother, who happens to be standing next to you, in front of the car, in the hopes that his body will provide some cushion at all. Or, you can do nothing.
Of course the first one isn’t desirable, as it would undoubtedly end in your death and really not change anything. The second seems like a good idea though. You stay alive, uninjured, and live on with a feeling of having successfully doing everything in your power given the situation. The third leaves you feeling like a useless failure at life who freezes up at every emergency. And so we come to the conclusion that the solution is to toss your little brother in front of the car!
And there you are! Two fully developed simulations that let you know exactly what to do in scary situations like that. You’re very welcome.
Note from the editors: The author of this post is insane and demon-possessed. Whether you take his advice or not is up to you. The consequences of whatever actions you may take, whether or not they are influenced by this post at all, are on your head entirely.
And there are so many freakin’ tests! School tests, school tests, school tests, oh hey, did I mention the school tests? They aren’t the only tests, of course, but for the early years of your life, those are the main ones. Then we’ve got the moral tests, courage tests, physiological tests, attention tests, patience tests, and all sorts of junky tests like that one there.
Here is a very difficult moral test for you. It is about an hour before dinnertime. Your mother has told you that you are not allowed to eat anything before dinner. BUT! You are very hungry. And you just happened to know that there is one cookie left in the cookie jar. Just one, no more, no less. Don’t forget, you are very hungry. The question is, should you eat the cookie, not eat the cookie, or feed the cookie to starving animal living outside under your shed?
This is a very serious dilemma. If you eat the cookie, you will be full and satisfied till dinnertime. A most satisfactory result. If you do not eat the cookie, you will be empty till dinner, not quite satisfactory. If you give the cookie to the starving animal that is living under your shed, your mother will think that you ate the cookie, never believing your story about the animal under your shed. A most unsatisfactory result. Thus, the obvious solution to this test is to eat the cookie!
Now, for a test of your courage. You must be an extremely courageous person if you are to succeed at this test. You’re at home. Your mother is driving home. She turns into the driveway (it’s a very long driveway) and her accelerator sticks. All the way down. You have three choices. You can jump in front of the car in the hopes that your body will provide sufficient cushion to make a difference. You can throw your little brother, who happens to be standing next to you, in front of the car, in the hopes that his body will provide some cushion at all. Or, you can do nothing.
Of course the first one isn’t desirable, as it would undoubtedly end in your death and really not change anything. The second seems like a good idea though. You stay alive, uninjured, and live on with a feeling of having successfully doing everything in your power given the situation. The third leaves you feeling like a useless failure at life who freezes up at every emergency. And so we come to the conclusion that the solution is to toss your little brother in front of the car!
And there you are! Two fully developed simulations that let you know exactly what to do in scary situations like that. You’re very welcome.
Note from the editors: The author of this post is insane and demon-possessed. Whether you take his advice or not is up to you. The consequences of whatever actions you may take, whether or not they are influenced by this post at all, are on your head entirely.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Golden Guys and Bears
Note from Owen Tucker: Remember that disclaimer from last time? About the violence and all that good junk? You did? Oh good. Now I don’t have to repeat myself and can get right down to business.
“Hey, that’s not nice!” I yelled down the stairs. “My foot is very relevant.”
“Obliteration commencing.”
With that, the sound of marching feet filled the air. Dan tugged on my arm.
“What is happening?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I really ain’t got a clue. Somebody wants to obliterate some stuff, though.”
The marching got closer. I looked down the stairs and saw what was causing it. It was an army of robotic men. Golden, robotic men. That had to be the weirdest color choice.
I raised my hand that had Dave on it. “All right, fellows, you’d all best stop, right there, or it won’t be pretty.”
One of the robots who appeared to be in the lead pointed to my hand. “Target acquired.”
“What? My hand? What do you want with my hand?”
“Hand, irrelevant. The Sword, relevant.”
“What the heck is the Sword?”
Hmphhphfyupf!
“Okay fine. Poncho, let Dave talk.”
Ah. Now, for your education, I am the Sword.
“No. You’re a ring.”
Don’t you remember anything? When you found me, I was a sword. Because that is how I am known.
“Okay, sure. You’re a sword. Now will you please be helpful and blast these guys?”
I can’t. They are—
“I don’t want to hear your lame excuses right now! We’re in trouble. So be quite and FIRE!”
A wall of flame burst forth from my hand and swept down the stairs, engulfing the gold robots, obscuring them from view. When the smoke cleared, though, they were still marching up to us, without a single singe on them.
“What just happened?”
What I was trying to tell you. Gold is impervious to magic.
“Well that’s just brilliant.”
The golden robots were getting closer. I started backing up.
“Well,” I said. “Anyone got any bright ideas?”
“Just this one,” Ben replied.
He lumbered forward and threw himself down the stairs. He rolled down, smashing into the robots like a bowling ball, knocking them every which way.
“Strike!” I yelled.
Then he reached the bottom of the stairs and his momentum failed. He got up and started swinging his paws every which way, but the robots seemed endless. They simply engulfed him, then carried on their march back up the stairs.
“Benjamin!”
There was no answer. Nothing but the sound of marching.
“Coom on, laddie,” Wilfred said in my ear. “We ‘ave tae go. Ben’s geven us our chance.”
A tear leaked out of my ear as I turned away.
“This isn’t over!” I yelled over my shoulder.
I ran down the hallway, the kids and Dan followed right behind me. I picked a random door, opened it, and went in. Dan was the last one in, and he shut the door behind him with a bang. Only then did I take a good look around, and realize that this might not have been the best door.
We were in the middle of a huge, far as the eye could see, desert.
“Hey, that’s not nice!” I yelled down the stairs. “My foot is very relevant.”
“Obliteration commencing.”
With that, the sound of marching feet filled the air. Dan tugged on my arm.
“What is happening?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I really ain’t got a clue. Somebody wants to obliterate some stuff, though.”
The marching got closer. I looked down the stairs and saw what was causing it. It was an army of robotic men. Golden, robotic men. That had to be the weirdest color choice.
I raised my hand that had Dave on it. “All right, fellows, you’d all best stop, right there, or it won’t be pretty.”
One of the robots who appeared to be in the lead pointed to my hand. “Target acquired.”
“What? My hand? What do you want with my hand?”
“Hand, irrelevant. The Sword, relevant.”
“What the heck is the Sword?”
Hmphhphfyupf!
“Okay fine. Poncho, let Dave talk.”
Ah. Now, for your education, I am the Sword.
“No. You’re a ring.”
Don’t you remember anything? When you found me, I was a sword. Because that is how I am known.
“Okay, sure. You’re a sword. Now will you please be helpful and blast these guys?”
I can’t. They are—
“I don’t want to hear your lame excuses right now! We’re in trouble. So be quite and FIRE!”
A wall of flame burst forth from my hand and swept down the stairs, engulfing the gold robots, obscuring them from view. When the smoke cleared, though, they were still marching up to us, without a single singe on them.
“What just happened?”
What I was trying to tell you. Gold is impervious to magic.
“Well that’s just brilliant.”
The golden robots were getting closer. I started backing up.
“Well,” I said. “Anyone got any bright ideas?”
“Just this one,” Ben replied.
He lumbered forward and threw himself down the stairs. He rolled down, smashing into the robots like a bowling ball, knocking them every which way.
“Strike!” I yelled.
Then he reached the bottom of the stairs and his momentum failed. He got up and started swinging his paws every which way, but the robots seemed endless. They simply engulfed him, then carried on their march back up the stairs.
“Benjamin!”
There was no answer. Nothing but the sound of marching.
“Coom on, laddie,” Wilfred said in my ear. “We ‘ave tae go. Ben’s geven us our chance.”
A tear leaked out of my ear as I turned away.
“This isn’t over!” I yelled over my shoulder.
I ran down the hallway, the kids and Dan followed right behind me. I picked a random door, opened it, and went in. Dan was the last one in, and he shut the door behind him with a bang. Only then did I take a good look around, and realize that this might not have been the best door.
We were in the middle of a huge, far as the eye could see, desert.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Life, Death, Cake
So. Life.
Man, do I really have to talk about that? It just seems so…serious. And boring. And serious. And not fun. And serious. And really boring. Do you get what I’m trying to say here? Come on. What is life? That stage of living after the glorious days of carefree childhood, that’s what. You “grow up”, get a life (aka, job/career/thingthatbringsinthechaching), get married, have kids, watch as those kids repeat all the stupid mistakes you made at their age, grow old, and die. If you’re one of those people who aren’t for the marriage bit, here’s what your life is. Same “grow up” phase, then you substitute everything else for partying till you pass out, and still end with dying, except in your case it’s by drunk driver (aka, yourself).
Bam! Life in a nutshell. And you are totally free to disagree with me. I do it all the time. I probably wouldn’t be alive right now, writing this post, if I agreed with myself. Because if that was the case, any time a stupid idea occurred to me, I would put it into action post haste. Which is why disagreeing with myself is the healthiest thing I can do. I suggest you make a habit out of it too. If you want to live long enough to go through that whole life cycle thing. Of course, if you don’t want that, then by all means, have your dissent free mind. Your gravestone will read “His decisions were unanimous to his dying breath”. I’ll bring some flowers for decoration. And cake. Black icing, of course.
Because, for those of you who did not know, cake has restorative powers. Oh no, nothing strong enough to raise the dead. But it does wonders for the mourners. Kind of perks them up and shows them that, even on the darkest day, there is a ray of sunshine. It’s just a matter of finding it. Or, if you have a flashlight, you could just turn that on. It would probably be easier. You also might want to consider an umbrella. Those are always handy. Good for scaring superstitious people too.
My, isn’t this a strange post? Life, death, and the mocking thereof. Next thing you know, I’ll be harping on political issues. Ha! That’ll be the day. Politics. A very wise old man once had something to say about politics. Bah! And Humbug! Yes, he did say that about Christmas too, but remember, he was a very old man (and wise). I’m sure that at some point in his long and miserly life he said that about politics. In fact, he probably said it about pretty much everything.
But hey, the Christmas season is fast approaching. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say on it as it comes steadily nearer, and quite likely some stuff after it’s gone. Just remember, tis the season to be jolly, yo ho ho and a bottle o’ rum, and all that.
Good golly, am I still here? I thought I would be gone by now. I must have disagreed with myself somewhere along the way and blown a hole in the space-time continuum. I have no idea how that relates, but somehow it always does. That darn continuum. Why couldn’t it make itself out of some unbreakable material? Then we wouldn’t have these constant problems with destructive fools, and mad men in boxes, always breaking through.
And then the world would be that much more boring. So, basically, forget I ever wrote that last paragraph and go on with your lives as if nothing ever happened. Good day.
Man, do I really have to talk about that? It just seems so…serious. And boring. And serious. And not fun. And serious. And really boring. Do you get what I’m trying to say here? Come on. What is life? That stage of living after the glorious days of carefree childhood, that’s what. You “grow up”, get a life (aka, job/career/thingthatbringsinthechaching), get married, have kids, watch as those kids repeat all the stupid mistakes you made at their age, grow old, and die. If you’re one of those people who aren’t for the marriage bit, here’s what your life is. Same “grow up” phase, then you substitute everything else for partying till you pass out, and still end with dying, except in your case it’s by drunk driver (aka, yourself).
Bam! Life in a nutshell. And you are totally free to disagree with me. I do it all the time. I probably wouldn’t be alive right now, writing this post, if I agreed with myself. Because if that was the case, any time a stupid idea occurred to me, I would put it into action post haste. Which is why disagreeing with myself is the healthiest thing I can do. I suggest you make a habit out of it too. If you want to live long enough to go through that whole life cycle thing. Of course, if you don’t want that, then by all means, have your dissent free mind. Your gravestone will read “His decisions were unanimous to his dying breath”. I’ll bring some flowers for decoration. And cake. Black icing, of course.
Because, for those of you who did not know, cake has restorative powers. Oh no, nothing strong enough to raise the dead. But it does wonders for the mourners. Kind of perks them up and shows them that, even on the darkest day, there is a ray of sunshine. It’s just a matter of finding it. Or, if you have a flashlight, you could just turn that on. It would probably be easier. You also might want to consider an umbrella. Those are always handy. Good for scaring superstitious people too.
My, isn’t this a strange post? Life, death, and the mocking thereof. Next thing you know, I’ll be harping on political issues. Ha! That’ll be the day. Politics. A very wise old man once had something to say about politics. Bah! And Humbug! Yes, he did say that about Christmas too, but remember, he was a very old man (and wise). I’m sure that at some point in his long and miserly life he said that about politics. In fact, he probably said it about pretty much everything.
But hey, the Christmas season is fast approaching. I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say on it as it comes steadily nearer, and quite likely some stuff after it’s gone. Just remember, tis the season to be jolly, yo ho ho and a bottle o’ rum, and all that.
Good golly, am I still here? I thought I would be gone by now. I must have disagreed with myself somewhere along the way and blown a hole in the space-time continuum. I have no idea how that relates, but somehow it always does. That darn continuum. Why couldn’t it make itself out of some unbreakable material? Then we wouldn’t have these constant problems with destructive fools, and mad men in boxes, always breaking through.
And then the world would be that much more boring. So, basically, forget I ever wrote that last paragraph and go on with your lives as if nothing ever happened. Good day.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Silence, Picnics, Irrelevant
Note from Owen Tucker: Whoa! Okay. Getting a bit violent there, eh? I guess I should put up a disclaimer. Ehem.
IF YOU ARE FAINT OF HEART, TAKE CAUTION IN READING THESE HIGHLY VIOLENT AND BLOODY STORIES.
There. That oughta do it. On with the violently bloody (not to mention deadly suspenseful) story telling! Oh boy!
Very well. You’ve forced my hand. I’ll tell you everything.
There followed several minutes of silence.
“Well?” I asked, finally.
Oh. You mean you want me to tell you now?
I rolled my eyes. “Duh.”
All right then. The League was taking me to become the One Ring.
Stop lying, Dave. I’m the One Ring. Didn’t you hear how Dan took me from that slimy Gollum creature?
Go die in a hole, Poncho.
No can do. I’m having far too much fun foiling you.
I glared at Dave, then Poncho. “Did you guys not hear what I said earlier?”
About icy?
“No.”
About imbeciles?
“No!”
About the life expectancies of vampires?
“NO! Wait…what?”
Nothing.
“Okay, that’s it! Dave, do that cool shutting move on Poncho.”
It’s my pleasure.
Himph. Harumph? MPH!
I looked over at Dan. “You’re not just going to let him do that, are you?”
Dan looked indignant. “Of course not! There shall be just retribution! Er, what would you suggest, good sir?”
I shrugged. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe have Poncho do the same thing to Dave?”
Dan’s face brightened like a light bulb. “Brilliant idea!”
Hold on a second.
Dan flourished his ring hand. “Poncho, arrows away!”
Hmph. Uhp ef merf.
Hehrumph!
I smiled. “There we go. That’s much better, don’t you guys think?”
If they had eyes, I’m sure they both would have been shooting daggers at me.
“So,” I turned to survey everyone. “We’ve got a league of ninja fellows after us. What do you guys want to do?”
“Picnic!” Fredrick and Elizabeth yelled.
“We’re being hunted by elite killing dudes, if the rings are to be believed, and you guys want to chill out and have a picnic?”
They nodded, huge grins on their faces.
I looked at Ben and, hopefully, Wilfred. “What do you guys think?”
Ben licked his paw. “A picnic does sound marvelous.”
“Ah cauld go fa sem victuals mahself. Ah’m famished.”
Last, but not least, I turned to Dan. “And you, sir? How does a picnic sound to you?”
“Most scrumptious indeed,” he replied.
I shrugged. “Well then, I guess we’re going on a picnic.”
The kids cheered and everyone followed me as I went to the staircase that led up to where I had found Dave. I stepped inside, wished for a picnic basket that was bigger on the inside and full of good picnicking junk, and stepped back out with said basket in hand.
“All right,” I said. “Where do y’all wanna go for this picnic?”
Before anyone could answer, there was a loud bang as the front door was thrown open and the sound of marching feet filled the air. I gave the basket to Dan and went to the top of the winding staircase that led to the first floor.
“Go away!” I yelled down it. “We’re going on a picnic and you are not invited!”
A really mechanical sounding voice replied. “Picnic….irrelevant. Surrender the ring, or die.”
“Surrender my foot!”
“Foot…irrelevant. Commence obliteration.”
To be continued…
IF YOU ARE FAINT OF HEART, TAKE CAUTION IN READING THESE HIGHLY VIOLENT AND BLOODY STORIES.
There. That oughta do it. On with the violently bloody (not to mention deadly suspenseful) story telling! Oh boy!
Very well. You’ve forced my hand. I’ll tell you everything.
There followed several minutes of silence.
“Well?” I asked, finally.
Oh. You mean you want me to tell you now?
I rolled my eyes. “Duh.”
All right then. The League was taking me to become the One Ring.
Stop lying, Dave. I’m the One Ring. Didn’t you hear how Dan took me from that slimy Gollum creature?
Go die in a hole, Poncho.
No can do. I’m having far too much fun foiling you.
I glared at Dave, then Poncho. “Did you guys not hear what I said earlier?”
About icy?
“No.”
About imbeciles?
“No!”
About the life expectancies of vampires?
“NO! Wait…what?”
Nothing.
“Okay, that’s it! Dave, do that cool shutting move on Poncho.”
It’s my pleasure.
Himph. Harumph? MPH!
I looked over at Dan. “You’re not just going to let him do that, are you?”
Dan looked indignant. “Of course not! There shall be just retribution! Er, what would you suggest, good sir?”
I shrugged. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe have Poncho do the same thing to Dave?”
Dan’s face brightened like a light bulb. “Brilliant idea!”
Hold on a second.
Dan flourished his ring hand. “Poncho, arrows away!”
Hmph. Uhp ef merf.
Hehrumph!
I smiled. “There we go. That’s much better, don’t you guys think?”
If they had eyes, I’m sure they both would have been shooting daggers at me.
“So,” I turned to survey everyone. “We’ve got a league of ninja fellows after us. What do you guys want to do?”
“Picnic!” Fredrick and Elizabeth yelled.
“We’re being hunted by elite killing dudes, if the rings are to be believed, and you guys want to chill out and have a picnic?”
They nodded, huge grins on their faces.
I looked at Ben and, hopefully, Wilfred. “What do you guys think?”
Ben licked his paw. “A picnic does sound marvelous.”
“Ah cauld go fa sem victuals mahself. Ah’m famished.”
Last, but not least, I turned to Dan. “And you, sir? How does a picnic sound to you?”
“Most scrumptious indeed,” he replied.
I shrugged. “Well then, I guess we’re going on a picnic.”
The kids cheered and everyone followed me as I went to the staircase that led up to where I had found Dave. I stepped inside, wished for a picnic basket that was bigger on the inside and full of good picnicking junk, and stepped back out with said basket in hand.
“All right,” I said. “Where do y’all wanna go for this picnic?”
Before anyone could answer, there was a loud bang as the front door was thrown open and the sound of marching feet filled the air. I gave the basket to Dan and went to the top of the winding staircase that led to the first floor.
“Go away!” I yelled down it. “We’re going on a picnic and you are not invited!”
A really mechanical sounding voice replied. “Picnic….irrelevant. Surrender the ring, or die.”
“Surrender my foot!”
“Foot…irrelevant. Commence obliteration.”
To be continued…
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Texas State Fair and the Killdares
Hi guys. It’s me again, John Smith.
The Texas State Fair is in town, folks (if you live ‘round here that is), in case you weren’t aware of that fact. I sauntered on over there yesterday and had me a right good time. Be warned though, before you go—if you haven’t already gone—there has been a major change. You know those tasty fruit ice cream-like things they call Chills? Well, I’m afraid that I must inform you that…they changed the name! They’re calling them Freezes now. Really? Freezes? The change makes absolutely no sense, because they are definitely not frozen. But they are chilled. Hence the previous name, Chills. But it’s okay. It’ll be all right. They still taste good.
Speaking of tasty food, check out them curly fries! There was this new place (yeah, that’s right, something else new) and they were serving up, and I quote the menu “Mountain of Curly Fries”. And when these people use the term mountain, they use it literally. I mean, it was like they threw the potatoes into the fryer, cooked ‘em up, and when they were ready, just dumped the fryer full onto a plate and handed it out. It was an insanely massive amount of fries. And they were good too. What more could a guy ask for?
Maybe a good ol’ fashioned parade, eh what? You’re never too old to enjoy watching the colorfully arrayed people and floats as they pass by. It doesn’t hurt that you get some pretty nice music in the process. Then there’s the tromp over to the fountain area for a bit of dazzling effects with a mixture of light, flame, and water. This year I particularly enjoyed the part with Adele’s Set Fire to the Rain. I don’t think the fair would be quite complete without the parade and light show to finish it off.
This time around, though, the fair was a lot better than usual. Why? Because the Killdares were there, that’s why! Yeah, they are there every year, but I only discovered this fact at the fair last year. And so I spent the duration of the rest that year figuring out just how awesome they are. And they’re pretty freakin’ awesome. As a Celtic rock band, there aren’t many out there like them, if any at all. But you can’t really go wrong with the drums, bass, electric guitar, fiddle, and bagpipes. That medley of instruments gives them an amazing sound that I haven’t found anywhere else. When you hear the drums, bass, and electric, you think, “Hhmm, these guys sound like a pretty sweet rock band.” Then in comes the fiddle and that changes to, “Man, that fiddle really takes it to another level.” Kapowy! Enter the bagpipes. “Dude. This is freakin’ epic!”
So yeah, I think it’s safe to say that the Killdares were the highlight of the fair for me. Because not only do these guys play awesome music, but they’re really cool up close and personal. After their shows I hung around and got to talk with them. They autographed my CDs, and! Best of all, played my favorite song for me, Gone West. They are some seriously awesome guys (and gal! Roberta Rast, you’re awesome!). I’m already excited for next year’s fair.
The Texas State Fair is in town, folks (if you live ‘round here that is), in case you weren’t aware of that fact. I sauntered on over there yesterday and had me a right good time. Be warned though, before you go—if you haven’t already gone—there has been a major change. You know those tasty fruit ice cream-like things they call Chills? Well, I’m afraid that I must inform you that…they changed the name! They’re calling them Freezes now. Really? Freezes? The change makes absolutely no sense, because they are definitely not frozen. But they are chilled. Hence the previous name, Chills. But it’s okay. It’ll be all right. They still taste good.
Speaking of tasty food, check out them curly fries! There was this new place (yeah, that’s right, something else new) and they were serving up, and I quote the menu “Mountain of Curly Fries”. And when these people use the term mountain, they use it literally. I mean, it was like they threw the potatoes into the fryer, cooked ‘em up, and when they were ready, just dumped the fryer full onto a plate and handed it out. It was an insanely massive amount of fries. And they were good too. What more could a guy ask for?
Maybe a good ol’ fashioned parade, eh what? You’re never too old to enjoy watching the colorfully arrayed people and floats as they pass by. It doesn’t hurt that you get some pretty nice music in the process. Then there’s the tromp over to the fountain area for a bit of dazzling effects with a mixture of light, flame, and water. This year I particularly enjoyed the part with Adele’s Set Fire to the Rain. I don’t think the fair would be quite complete without the parade and light show to finish it off.
This time around, though, the fair was a lot better than usual. Why? Because the Killdares were there, that’s why! Yeah, they are there every year, but I only discovered this fact at the fair last year. And so I spent the duration of the rest that year figuring out just how awesome they are. And they’re pretty freakin’ awesome. As a Celtic rock band, there aren’t many out there like them, if any at all. But you can’t really go wrong with the drums, bass, electric guitar, fiddle, and bagpipes. That medley of instruments gives them an amazing sound that I haven’t found anywhere else. When you hear the drums, bass, and electric, you think, “Hhmm, these guys sound like a pretty sweet rock band.” Then in comes the fiddle and that changes to, “Man, that fiddle really takes it to another level.” Kapowy! Enter the bagpipes. “Dude. This is freakin’ epic!”
So yeah, I think it’s safe to say that the Killdares were the highlight of the fair for me. Because not only do these guys play awesome music, but they’re really cool up close and personal. After their shows I hung around and got to talk with them. They autographed my CDs, and! Best of all, played my favorite song for me, Gone West. They are some seriously awesome guys (and gal! Roberta Rast, you’re awesome!). I’m already excited for next year’s fair.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Dave!
Note from Owen Tucker: Things are about to get going around here. So hold onto your socks. Or whatever piece of clothing you feel like holding onto at the moment.
The first adventure of our daring assembly began as soon as we set foot back into Howard. Arrayed around the doorway to greet us were a whole bunch of scary looking dudes all dressed in black. I stopped dead and gaped at them as soon as I saw then, but Dan, who came in right behind, let out a yell and jumped right into the middle of them. Let’s just say things escalated from there.
Bangs! Booms! Explosions! Mini Hiroshima’s all over the place! Ben flew out from somewhere and landed on about ten of the guys. The kids were beating a couple of the other ones with coconuts. Wilfred was, well, I’m sure he was doing something.
Then there was this extra big balooy and Howard flipped. Literally. The house went upside down and turned the whole thing into a zero-gravity Inception-hotel-fight-scene. That didn’t faze the battling one single bit. They all just went right on laying into each other. And I floated serenely through it all. Until I got bored. Which was after about five seconds.
“Hey, Dave,” I said.
Yes?
“When were you planning on ending this?”
I’m only waiting for you to give me the word.
“Oh, well, in that case. Word.”
At that, there was a really, really, really, really bright flash of light. It was pretty doggone bright, let me tell you. And when it faded, Howard was right side up, and the fighting was over. Because all the dudes in black were unconscious on the floor.
Show off.
Thank you.
Dan gave himself a shake, which thoroughly rattled his armor. “That was a most enjoyable little tussle.”
Ben yawned and sat on his haunches. “I rather agree with the strange gent.”
“I’m glad you all enjoyed,” I said. “But do any of you know who they were?”
I was met with blank stares.
That, Mr. Owen, was the League of Ninjas. Just their scouts, though. The very least experienced.
You talk far too much, Poncho.
The very fact that you think so, Dave, makes me think the very opposite.
“All right, all right. Break it up. I’ve had enough of you two arguing, gosh. Just tell me why this League is after me already.”
Isn’t it obvious? They want me.
“You? Really? You are freakin’ annoying, why would anyone actually send forces after you?”
Because I was the height of the League. When they created me, none could stand against them.
Ha! Likely story. All the good guys had to do was create me, and I whooped your butt in a heartbeat.
Only because I was wielded by an imbecile!
And times have changed how?
“Hey!”
No offense.
“I think I’ll take offense, thank you very much.”
You’re welcome. But the point is, so long as I’m here, the League ain’t got nuthin’ that can do anything.
“Is that right, Dave?”
Hm? Oh, yes, of course. If it helps you sleep at night.
“Dave!”
You can’t expect me to betray the secrets of my creators, can you?
“Yes, actually. That’s exactly what I expect you to do.”
You’re a cold boy, Owen.
“Just icy. Now get talking.”
To be continued.
The first adventure of our daring assembly began as soon as we set foot back into Howard. Arrayed around the doorway to greet us were a whole bunch of scary looking dudes all dressed in black. I stopped dead and gaped at them as soon as I saw then, but Dan, who came in right behind, let out a yell and jumped right into the middle of them. Let’s just say things escalated from there.
Bangs! Booms! Explosions! Mini Hiroshima’s all over the place! Ben flew out from somewhere and landed on about ten of the guys. The kids were beating a couple of the other ones with coconuts. Wilfred was, well, I’m sure he was doing something.
Then there was this extra big balooy and Howard flipped. Literally. The house went upside down and turned the whole thing into a zero-gravity Inception-hotel-fight-scene. That didn’t faze the battling one single bit. They all just went right on laying into each other. And I floated serenely through it all. Until I got bored. Which was after about five seconds.
“Hey, Dave,” I said.
Yes?
“When were you planning on ending this?”
I’m only waiting for you to give me the word.
“Oh, well, in that case. Word.”
At that, there was a really, really, really, really bright flash of light. It was pretty doggone bright, let me tell you. And when it faded, Howard was right side up, and the fighting was over. Because all the dudes in black were unconscious on the floor.
Show off.
Thank you.
Dan gave himself a shake, which thoroughly rattled his armor. “That was a most enjoyable little tussle.”
Ben yawned and sat on his haunches. “I rather agree with the strange gent.”
“I’m glad you all enjoyed,” I said. “But do any of you know who they were?”
I was met with blank stares.
That, Mr. Owen, was the League of Ninjas. Just their scouts, though. The very least experienced.
You talk far too much, Poncho.
The very fact that you think so, Dave, makes me think the very opposite.
“All right, all right. Break it up. I’ve had enough of you two arguing, gosh. Just tell me why this League is after me already.”
Isn’t it obvious? They want me.
“You? Really? You are freakin’ annoying, why would anyone actually send forces after you?”
Because I was the height of the League. When they created me, none could stand against them.
Ha! Likely story. All the good guys had to do was create me, and I whooped your butt in a heartbeat.
Only because I was wielded by an imbecile!
And times have changed how?
“Hey!”
No offense.
“I think I’ll take offense, thank you very much.”
You’re welcome. But the point is, so long as I’m here, the League ain’t got nuthin’ that can do anything.
“Is that right, Dave?”
Hm? Oh, yes, of course. If it helps you sleep at night.
“Dave!”
You can’t expect me to betray the secrets of my creators, can you?
“Yes, actually. That’s exactly what I expect you to do.”
You’re a cold boy, Owen.
“Just icy. Now get talking.”
To be continued.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Zachary Langferd
So, uh, hi? I’m Zachary Langferd, and I guess I’m your host for today. I have no idea how this happened, or why I’m even here, but here I am all the same, so I’m afraid you’ll have to suffer through it. Unless you don’t. That’s always an option too. You could just change pages right now and go check facebook or something. But I’ll try not to bore you to that extent. I’m not saying I’ll be successful in that endeavor, just that I’ll try.
Okay, right, blog post. I was told nothing about this, you know, until just now. They were all like, “oh hey, Zachary! Write this post!” And here I am. With absolutely no idea as to what it is I’m doing. I think someone said I should talk about myself. That seemed kind of egotistical to me. At the time. Now it’s actually starting to sound pretty good.
All right, I convinced myself to talk about myself. The only thing you really need to know about me, though, is that I have these cool magical powers. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, unbelievable, right? But I’m serious. I can make things happen just by thinking about it. It’s pretty awesome. There’s whole books written about the junk I do. Somewhere. I think you have to talk to that one dude about it. I’m pretty sure his name was Michael. Not positive, but pretty sure. From what I gather, he’s kind of the agent around here, dealing with all our stuff. Strange sort of fellow, I thought. Always saying and/or doing weird things at weird times.
Anyway, now that I’ve finished that very long and in depth talk about myself, I’m going to move on before I become too self-conscious. I don’t know where I’m going, though. I told those guys when they threw this at me that I wouldn’t know what to say, and I was absolutely correct, as you can see. If I was like John I could just talk about a rock for the rest of the time. But I can’t think of anything interesting about a rock. I mean, you throw it, it goes up, then it comes back down. Pretty simple and boring stuff there. I guess that means John is simple and boring. Poor guy. Don’t tell him.
Hey! I thought of something I can talk about. College. Yup, that’s it. Am I the only one that doesn’t get it? I mean come on. Why would you pay tens of thousands of dollars to do even more school? I thought everyone was just screaming to finish their graduate year and be free. Then they decide they want to go to college so they can go through another four years? Only this time they’re going to pay for it? And I’m not saying this because I’m a genius or anything. It’s not my fault that my high school classes were college level. They were high school to me. The perks of being brilliant. You should try it sometime. Oh wait…you can’t. Oops, my bad. Sorry pal. Geniuses just aren’t a dime a dozen. We’re like pearls among a sea of rubble. No offense to any rubble out there. Just sayin’ it as it is. Giving the ol’ ego a good back scratch, y’know. It’s good to do that every now and then. Keeps the self esteem high.
Okay, that’s it. I’m done rambling on in a brilliantly stupid way. It’s been more than enough for me. This is Zachary Langferd, signing off. And you’ll be lucky if you ever hear from me again.
Okay, right, blog post. I was told nothing about this, you know, until just now. They were all like, “oh hey, Zachary! Write this post!” And here I am. With absolutely no idea as to what it is I’m doing. I think someone said I should talk about myself. That seemed kind of egotistical to me. At the time. Now it’s actually starting to sound pretty good.
All right, I convinced myself to talk about myself. The only thing you really need to know about me, though, is that I have these cool magical powers. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, unbelievable, right? But I’m serious. I can make things happen just by thinking about it. It’s pretty awesome. There’s whole books written about the junk I do. Somewhere. I think you have to talk to that one dude about it. I’m pretty sure his name was Michael. Not positive, but pretty sure. From what I gather, he’s kind of the agent around here, dealing with all our stuff. Strange sort of fellow, I thought. Always saying and/or doing weird things at weird times.
Anyway, now that I’ve finished that very long and in depth talk about myself, I’m going to move on before I become too self-conscious. I don’t know where I’m going, though. I told those guys when they threw this at me that I wouldn’t know what to say, and I was absolutely correct, as you can see. If I was like John I could just talk about a rock for the rest of the time. But I can’t think of anything interesting about a rock. I mean, you throw it, it goes up, then it comes back down. Pretty simple and boring stuff there. I guess that means John is simple and boring. Poor guy. Don’t tell him.
Hey! I thought of something I can talk about. College. Yup, that’s it. Am I the only one that doesn’t get it? I mean come on. Why would you pay tens of thousands of dollars to do even more school? I thought everyone was just screaming to finish their graduate year and be free. Then they decide they want to go to college so they can go through another four years? Only this time they’re going to pay for it? And I’m not saying this because I’m a genius or anything. It’s not my fault that my high school classes were college level. They were high school to me. The perks of being brilliant. You should try it sometime. Oh wait…you can’t. Oops, my bad. Sorry pal. Geniuses just aren’t a dime a dozen. We’re like pearls among a sea of rubble. No offense to any rubble out there. Just sayin’ it as it is. Giving the ol’ ego a good back scratch, y’know. It’s good to do that every now and then. Keeps the self esteem high.
Okay, that’s it. I’m done rambling on in a brilliantly stupid way. It’s been more than enough for me. This is Zachary Langferd, signing off. And you’ll be lucky if you ever hear from me again.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Poncho and Dave
Note from Owen Tucker: Pft, John Smith. Pft, super name. Really? I mean come on, all the guy did after bragging on his name was talk about rocks. How boring is that?
Anyway, let’s get down to business.
“Whoa whoa whoa,” I said. “You know this guy, Dave?”
The gold ring (referred to as Poncho) flashed. Dave? Really? That’s what you’re calling yourself these days?
You’re one to talk, Poncho, Dave retorted.
Poncho’s are cool.
Sure they are. Just keep telling yourself that.
“Hey, break it up,” I interjected. “How do you two know each other?”
He was created to combat me, Dave said.
No, actually, he was created to combat me, Poncho clarified.
Stop trying to deceive yourself. It is a well known fact that the League created me first, which made your pathetic creators panic and bring you into existence.
Ha! That’s a lie you tell yourself so you can keep what little self-respect you have.
“Hold it! What League are we talking about here?”
The League of Ninjas, of course. Do you know of any other?
“What the heck is the League of Ninjas?”
It’s a league. Of ninjas. I find the name very self-explanatory.
“And this league created Dave?”
Yes, of course. How do you not know this? I shrugged. “I dunno. I just found Dave in a rock and tugged him out. Didn’t see any ‘Property of the League of Ninja” tags anywhere.”
The fact that he chanted “use me for evil” over and over didn’t tell you something was strange about him?
“How’d you know he did that?”
He always does that. A glitch in his creation. At least, for his sake, I hope it’s a glitch. Shut up, Poncho, you always did talk too much.
What’s the matter, Davey? Am I revealing all your secrets?
Owen, I think we should leave now. Before there is any bloodshed.
“No way! I like this Poncho dude.” I looked to the armored guy, who was standing there with a goofy grin on his face. “Where’d you find your ring?”
He cleared his throat. “Ahrumph. I twas wandering upon journeys which I sometimes wander upon when lo and behold! I wandered upon Poncho here, lying lonely in a cavern, lost. I took him and put him upon my finger, and having defeated the slimy beast that guarded the cavern, I emerged out into the daylight, triumphant and with the prize.” He held up his hand with the ring. “Most beautiful, is it not? And enormously powerful too.”
My foot, Dave said.
You’re just jealous, Poncho replied.
You always did have a backward view of everything.
“Just shut it, you two,” I said. “We all know you hate each other’s guts, so if you’ve got to keep on hating, keep it to ringish glares, or whatever you rings do.”
If you insist.
“Thank you. Now, Dan, what exactly are you doing here?”
Dan shrugged. “I am, at this moment, simply wandering the world, seeking the adventures fit to one of my skills, daring, and chivalry.”
“Sounds cool,” I said, somewhat thoughtfully. “You know, we get pretty good amount of adventures in this here group. What do you think about joining our ranks?”
Oh no, that is a very bad idea. Why’s that, Davey? Afraid I’ll show everyone how lame you really are? On second thought, bring them along. We’ll settle this.
I’ll make sure you get a lovely gravestone, old boy.
I cleared my throat. “So, Dan, now that those two have finished arguing over things which they have no control, will you join our merry band?”
Dan glanced around at our group and a grin spread over his face. “Of course, good sir! Let the adventures of this daring assembly begin in earnest!”
To be continued…
Anyway, let’s get down to business.
“Whoa whoa whoa,” I said. “You know this guy, Dave?”
The gold ring (referred to as Poncho) flashed. Dave? Really? That’s what you’re calling yourself these days?
You’re one to talk, Poncho, Dave retorted.
Poncho’s are cool.
Sure they are. Just keep telling yourself that.
“Hey, break it up,” I interjected. “How do you two know each other?”
He was created to combat me, Dave said.
No, actually, he was created to combat me, Poncho clarified.
Stop trying to deceive yourself. It is a well known fact that the League created me first, which made your pathetic creators panic and bring you into existence.
Ha! That’s a lie you tell yourself so you can keep what little self-respect you have.
“Hold it! What League are we talking about here?”
The League of Ninjas, of course. Do you know of any other?
“What the heck is the League of Ninjas?”
It’s a league. Of ninjas. I find the name very self-explanatory.
“And this league created Dave?”
Yes, of course. How do you not know this? I shrugged. “I dunno. I just found Dave in a rock and tugged him out. Didn’t see any ‘Property of the League of Ninja” tags anywhere.”
The fact that he chanted “use me for evil” over and over didn’t tell you something was strange about him?
“How’d you know he did that?”
He always does that. A glitch in his creation. At least, for his sake, I hope it’s a glitch. Shut up, Poncho, you always did talk too much.
What’s the matter, Davey? Am I revealing all your secrets?
Owen, I think we should leave now. Before there is any bloodshed.
“No way! I like this Poncho dude.” I looked to the armored guy, who was standing there with a goofy grin on his face. “Where’d you find your ring?”
He cleared his throat. “Ahrumph. I twas wandering upon journeys which I sometimes wander upon when lo and behold! I wandered upon Poncho here, lying lonely in a cavern, lost. I took him and put him upon my finger, and having defeated the slimy beast that guarded the cavern, I emerged out into the daylight, triumphant and with the prize.” He held up his hand with the ring. “Most beautiful, is it not? And enormously powerful too.”
My foot, Dave said.
You’re just jealous, Poncho replied.
You always did have a backward view of everything.
“Just shut it, you two,” I said. “We all know you hate each other’s guts, so if you’ve got to keep on hating, keep it to ringish glares, or whatever you rings do.”
If you insist.
“Thank you. Now, Dan, what exactly are you doing here?”
Dan shrugged. “I am, at this moment, simply wandering the world, seeking the adventures fit to one of my skills, daring, and chivalry.”
“Sounds cool,” I said, somewhat thoughtfully. “You know, we get pretty good amount of adventures in this here group. What do you think about joining our ranks?”
Oh no, that is a very bad idea. Why’s that, Davey? Afraid I’ll show everyone how lame you really are? On second thought, bring them along. We’ll settle this.
I’ll make sure you get a lovely gravestone, old boy.
I cleared my throat. “So, Dan, now that those two have finished arguing over things which they have no control, will you join our merry band?”
Dan glanced around at our group and a grin spread over his face. “Of course, good sir! Let the adventures of this daring assembly begin in earnest!”
To be continued…
Thursday, October 4, 2012
John Smith and a Rock
Welcome back to the intelligent portion of your weekly entertainment. Today, I, John Smith, shall be your host.
Before I go any further in this post, let me clarify something. John Smith really is an epically awesome name. Most people would probably think “Aw, poor kid, stuck with a name like John Smith, must get teased a lot”. But they have it all wrong. With a name like that, that “poor kid” would be the one doing all the teasing. For example, a conversation between two kids.
Timmy: “Hey there! I’m Timmy. What’s your name?”
John: “John Smith.”
Timmy: “Haha. Okay, don’t tell me your name then.”
John: “All right, I won’t.”
Timmy: “…”
John: “…”
Timmy: “Your name isn’t really John Smith, is it?”
John: “Yup, sure is. I’m undercover.”
Timmy: “Ooohhh! I gotcha now.”
Teacher: “John Smith to the front!”
John to Timmy: “See? I got everyone fooled.”
Timmy: “Dude, that’s awesome.”
See? Awesome. When I have a kid, his first name is gonna be John and his middle one is gonna be Smith. You don’t need to know the last name because he’ll never use it anyway. He’ll just be all like “The name’s John. John Smith.” and be totally untraceable!
So now you know the reason behind the name. I am John Smith. John Smith is me. And you’ll never really know who John Smith is.
Therefore I feel it fitting that the topic of the day’s post be something about anonymity. Take, for instance, a rock. Such a common, everyday sort of thing. We see them all over the place. What is the world, after all, but a big rock? We take a rock, and we look at it, and we perceive, well, if we’re normal we will probably perceive nothing at all. The rock will look like any other old rock. Kind of, rockish. However! If we take another rock and compare the two, we will no doubt perceive the same amount of nothing that we did before. Rocks that you get from the same place generally look like each other, because the general rule is that if the rocks are in the same place, they probably came from the same source. This, of course, is not set in stone. There are exceptions. Such as when some crazy person takes a rock from its source and chucks it someplace else. Then that rock may well be next to another rock that looks nothing like it.
But this is immaterial in the long run. The fact is that normal rocks, the ones we encounter on a daily basis, all look the same. We cannot tell this rock from that rock unless we study those rocks with an amount of dedication that would be pointless in the end. Because really, what’s being able to tell two rocks apart gonna do for you? Not much at all, my friend, not much at all.
To come to the point of this (there was a point, right?), rocks are hard to tell apart. So if one rock has a grudge against another rock, the rock with the grudge has no way to find the other rock. It can entertain its grudge as long as it wants, but it’ll never be able to do anything with it. Thus, rocks should not hold grudges. And John Smith is a rock solid name.
Till next time, I bid ye a fond farewell.
Before I go any further in this post, let me clarify something. John Smith really is an epically awesome name. Most people would probably think “Aw, poor kid, stuck with a name like John Smith, must get teased a lot”. But they have it all wrong. With a name like that, that “poor kid” would be the one doing all the teasing. For example, a conversation between two kids.
Timmy: “Hey there! I’m Timmy. What’s your name?”
John: “John Smith.”
Timmy: “Haha. Okay, don’t tell me your name then.”
John: “All right, I won’t.”
Timmy: “…”
John: “…”
Timmy: “Your name isn’t really John Smith, is it?”
John: “Yup, sure is. I’m undercover.”
Timmy: “Ooohhh! I gotcha now.”
Teacher: “John Smith to the front!”
John to Timmy: “See? I got everyone fooled.”
Timmy: “Dude, that’s awesome.”
See? Awesome. When I have a kid, his first name is gonna be John and his middle one is gonna be Smith. You don’t need to know the last name because he’ll never use it anyway. He’ll just be all like “The name’s John. John Smith.” and be totally untraceable!
So now you know the reason behind the name. I am John Smith. John Smith is me. And you’ll never really know who John Smith is.
Therefore I feel it fitting that the topic of the day’s post be something about anonymity. Take, for instance, a rock. Such a common, everyday sort of thing. We see them all over the place. What is the world, after all, but a big rock? We take a rock, and we look at it, and we perceive, well, if we’re normal we will probably perceive nothing at all. The rock will look like any other old rock. Kind of, rockish. However! If we take another rock and compare the two, we will no doubt perceive the same amount of nothing that we did before. Rocks that you get from the same place generally look like each other, because the general rule is that if the rocks are in the same place, they probably came from the same source. This, of course, is not set in stone. There are exceptions. Such as when some crazy person takes a rock from its source and chucks it someplace else. Then that rock may well be next to another rock that looks nothing like it.
But this is immaterial in the long run. The fact is that normal rocks, the ones we encounter on a daily basis, all look the same. We cannot tell this rock from that rock unless we study those rocks with an amount of dedication that would be pointless in the end. Because really, what’s being able to tell two rocks apart gonna do for you? Not much at all, my friend, not much at all.
To come to the point of this (there was a point, right?), rocks are hard to tell apart. So if one rock has a grudge against another rock, the rock with the grudge has no way to find the other rock. It can entertain its grudge as long as it wants, but it’ll never be able to do anything with it. Thus, rocks should not hold grudges. And John Smith is a rock solid name.
Till next time, I bid ye a fond farewell.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Old Friends
Note from Owen Tucker:
Protocol 2: Do not listen to Michael.
Protocol 3: Do not listen to John Smith.
Protocol 4: Do not listen to Zachary Langferd.
Protocol 5: Do not listen to Tanner Erring.
There. Those about cover everything I have to say about that. Now to my story, which I assure you is completely true to life and not fictional in any way. Humph. Calls himself “John Smith” and thinks he can talk about fictionality in my posts. Bounder.
Oh, and don’t forget Protocol 1.
I looked at the strange weapon skeptically. “Oh really? What’s that supposed to be, anyway?”
Bob flourished the gun with pride. “It anti-magic weapon! Drains both magic and life at once!”
I laughed, which kind of hurt him emotionally, I think, because he got a real mad look on his face and leveled the gun at my chest.
“Why you laugh?” he asked. “Death no funny!”
I chuckled. “Yeah, but why drain the life and magic? I mean, if you’re draining life, obviously the magic goes with it.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. More satisfaction this way.”
“Oh. I didn’t think you were the sadistic type, Bob.”
He grinned and shrugged. “You ready to die?”
I returned the shrug. “No, not really. Because, you see, I could always have Dave just crush the gun before you even pull the trigger.”
“Not if I pull right away!”
And he pulled the trigger. A beam shot out of the muzzle and illuminated my chest with golden light. But I didn’t feel anything. Most definitely nothing like death. Actually, I was feeling kind of toasty. I couldn’t understand what had happened at first, but then it dawned on me and I started laughing. Bob was looking at the gun, then the beam, then me with a very confused expression.
“Bob,” I managed to say after gasping for a bit. “You didn’t create a deadly weapon. You created a weaponized,” I snorted. “Flashlight.”
Bob looked down at his weapon and a tear began to well up in one eye. I busted up laughing again. I couldn’t help it. The guy looked so pitifully hilarious. I patted him on the back and led him to the door.
“It’s okay, Bob, it’s okay. I’m sure you’ll get it to work next time.”
He gave a sad little nod and plodded away. I shut the door and, after another fit of laughter, went back to the others.
“Wha was tha all aboot?” Wilfred asked.
Just thinking about it made me laugh again, so I shook my head. “Ah man. Naw, it was nothing. Come on. There’s a door down the hall. Let’s see where it takes us.”
“Are we going on an adventure?” Fredrick asked.
“Course we are,” I replied as I walked down the hall. “So get on over here if you don’t want to be left behind.”
He and Elizabeth ran to catch up to me. I stopped in front of the door and, without further ado, opened it. Through the doorway was a great, open, grassy plain as far as the eye could see. I stepped through the door and a brisk wind tousled my hair. The kids, Ben, and Wilfred came through after me and stood on either side.
“Pretty awesome, ain’t it?” I said.
“It is indeed,” Ben replied.
“Most wondrous indeed,” a completely unknown voice agreed.
I spun around and there, standing next to the doorway, was some dude dressed up in armor with a sword on his belt and a smile on his face.
“Who the heck are you?”
The guy struck a noble pose. “I, good sir, am the famed Dan Coyote!”
“Dan Coyote,” I mumbled the name, mulling over it. “Dan Coyote. Oh! You mean Don Quixote, right?”
“No,” he said. “I mean Dan Coyote. And I bear with me my steadfast companion, Poncho!”
He held up a hand, upon which was a golden ring.
Oh not you.
Yes me. We meet again.
To be continued…
Protocol 2: Do not listen to Michael.
Protocol 3: Do not listen to John Smith.
Protocol 4: Do not listen to Zachary Langferd.
Protocol 5: Do not listen to Tanner Erring.
There. Those about cover everything I have to say about that. Now to my story, which I assure you is completely true to life and not fictional in any way. Humph. Calls himself “John Smith” and thinks he can talk about fictionality in my posts. Bounder.
Oh, and don’t forget Protocol 1.
I looked at the strange weapon skeptically. “Oh really? What’s that supposed to be, anyway?”
Bob flourished the gun with pride. “It anti-magic weapon! Drains both magic and life at once!”
I laughed, which kind of hurt him emotionally, I think, because he got a real mad look on his face and leveled the gun at my chest.
“Why you laugh?” he asked. “Death no funny!”
I chuckled. “Yeah, but why drain the life and magic? I mean, if you’re draining life, obviously the magic goes with it.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. More satisfaction this way.”
“Oh. I didn’t think you were the sadistic type, Bob.”
He grinned and shrugged. “You ready to die?”
I returned the shrug. “No, not really. Because, you see, I could always have Dave just crush the gun before you even pull the trigger.”
“Not if I pull right away!”
And he pulled the trigger. A beam shot out of the muzzle and illuminated my chest with golden light. But I didn’t feel anything. Most definitely nothing like death. Actually, I was feeling kind of toasty. I couldn’t understand what had happened at first, but then it dawned on me and I started laughing. Bob was looking at the gun, then the beam, then me with a very confused expression.
“Bob,” I managed to say after gasping for a bit. “You didn’t create a deadly weapon. You created a weaponized,” I snorted. “Flashlight.”
Bob looked down at his weapon and a tear began to well up in one eye. I busted up laughing again. I couldn’t help it. The guy looked so pitifully hilarious. I patted him on the back and led him to the door.
“It’s okay, Bob, it’s okay. I’m sure you’ll get it to work next time.”
He gave a sad little nod and plodded away. I shut the door and, after another fit of laughter, went back to the others.
“Wha was tha all aboot?” Wilfred asked.
Just thinking about it made me laugh again, so I shook my head. “Ah man. Naw, it was nothing. Come on. There’s a door down the hall. Let’s see where it takes us.”
“Are we going on an adventure?” Fredrick asked.
“Course we are,” I replied as I walked down the hall. “So get on over here if you don’t want to be left behind.”
He and Elizabeth ran to catch up to me. I stopped in front of the door and, without further ado, opened it. Through the doorway was a great, open, grassy plain as far as the eye could see. I stepped through the door and a brisk wind tousled my hair. The kids, Ben, and Wilfred came through after me and stood on either side.
“Pretty awesome, ain’t it?” I said.
“It is indeed,” Ben replied.
“Most wondrous indeed,” a completely unknown voice agreed.
I spun around and there, standing next to the doorway, was some dude dressed up in armor with a sword on his belt and a smile on his face.
“Who the heck are you?”
The guy struck a noble pose. “I, good sir, am the famed Dan Coyote!”
“Dan Coyote,” I mumbled the name, mulling over it. “Dan Coyote. Oh! You mean Don Quixote, right?”
“No,” he said. “I mean Dan Coyote. And I bear with me my steadfast companion, Poncho!”
He held up a hand, upon which was a golden ring.
Oh not you.
Yes me. We meet again.
To be continued…
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Hello Again
It’s me! Michael, John Smith, Zachary Langferd, Tanner Erring, and I’d even use Owen Tucker if it wouldn’t upset him. But it does, so I won’t. For now, though, you can call me Smith, John Smith. And as far as you know, I’m just your friendly neighborhood, and most definitely human, blogger. There are most certainly no aliens after me for any reason whatsoever. I had nothing at all to do with their planet not exploding. Okay? We clear on that? All right, good.
So, anyway, just thought I’d drop on by and say howdy. It’s been a while. I would’ve dropped by more often but Owen’s been completely hogging the spotlight, little bugger. I mean you give a guy a little leeway and he thinks he can completely steal the show. Well, Mister Tucker, you’re dead wrong! I’m here now, and you’re just gonna have to deal with some changes. I may not have me a story to tell, but I got some interesting tales to tell, you can be sure of that. They may not make sense sometimes, a few might not be totally coherent, but they’re interesting. I think.
But I digress! The point that I was trying to get to, before Owen’s selfishness derailed me, is that you’re stickin’ to Monday’s, boy! Thursdays are mine now. These awesome readers will have to put up with you at the beginning of their weeks, but don’t worry, folks, I’ll be here to refresh you. Will real, down to earth type stuff. None of those crazy, unrealistic shenanigans that he’s always going on about. I’ll bet none of that junk is even real. He’s probably just sitting in his room somewhere, door shut, curtains drawn, typing out whatever comes to mind in the moment and going with it liked he planned the whole thing. Not to mention that it’s all true to life. Yeah, right. True to imagination is more like it.
Enough about him, though. This ain’t his time. His time was three days ago. My time is now. And I plan to make the most of it. So what do you want to talk about? I haven’t done this in so long it’s kinda hazy how I went about it before. But from what I do remember, it wasn’t the best of ways. Kind of random and totally wacko if my recollection is good. Not much better than Owen’s junk. How’s ‘bout we switch it up a bit. No more of that random stuff. Random is overrated anyway. It’s all seriousness around here now. Serious business, that’s what I’m talking about.
Oh okay, some randomness will remain. What’s life without a bit of that stuff? I’m sure I’ll get desperate somewhere along the line and give you a whole post of a bunch of stuff that seems to make sense at first, but then, when you actually think about it at all, it doesn’t. However I am hoping that those will be rarities, so that they will be enjoyable in their moments. Random has its place, a steady stream of it kills that place. Quite dead too.
Now I am afraid I must bid you adieu. Your next post will be, unfortunately for you poor souls, from Owen, but I can’t cut him off completely or he’d scream bloody murder. And that just wouldn’t be fun because you can get away with just anything on the internet these days. Except for spelling errors. Everybody’s just so eager to get you for those.
Until next time, fare thee well.
So, anyway, just thought I’d drop on by and say howdy. It’s been a while. I would’ve dropped by more often but Owen’s been completely hogging the spotlight, little bugger. I mean you give a guy a little leeway and he thinks he can completely steal the show. Well, Mister Tucker, you’re dead wrong! I’m here now, and you’re just gonna have to deal with some changes. I may not have me a story to tell, but I got some interesting tales to tell, you can be sure of that. They may not make sense sometimes, a few might not be totally coherent, but they’re interesting. I think.
But I digress! The point that I was trying to get to, before Owen’s selfishness derailed me, is that you’re stickin’ to Monday’s, boy! Thursdays are mine now. These awesome readers will have to put up with you at the beginning of their weeks, but don’t worry, folks, I’ll be here to refresh you. Will real, down to earth type stuff. None of those crazy, unrealistic shenanigans that he’s always going on about. I’ll bet none of that junk is even real. He’s probably just sitting in his room somewhere, door shut, curtains drawn, typing out whatever comes to mind in the moment and going with it liked he planned the whole thing. Not to mention that it’s all true to life. Yeah, right. True to imagination is more like it.
Enough about him, though. This ain’t his time. His time was three days ago. My time is now. And I plan to make the most of it. So what do you want to talk about? I haven’t done this in so long it’s kinda hazy how I went about it before. But from what I do remember, it wasn’t the best of ways. Kind of random and totally wacko if my recollection is good. Not much better than Owen’s junk. How’s ‘bout we switch it up a bit. No more of that random stuff. Random is overrated anyway. It’s all seriousness around here now. Serious business, that’s what I’m talking about.
Oh okay, some randomness will remain. What’s life without a bit of that stuff? I’m sure I’ll get desperate somewhere along the line and give you a whole post of a bunch of stuff that seems to make sense at first, but then, when you actually think about it at all, it doesn’t. However I am hoping that those will be rarities, so that they will be enjoyable in their moments. Random has its place, a steady stream of it kills that place. Quite dead too.
Now I am afraid I must bid you adieu. Your next post will be, unfortunately for you poor souls, from Owen, but I can’t cut him off completely or he’d scream bloody murder. And that just wouldn’t be fun because you can get away with just anything on the internet these days. Except for spelling errors. Everybody’s just so eager to get you for those.
Until next time, fare thee well.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Hide and Seek (or Not)
Note from Owen Tucker:
Protocol 2
…
…
Okay okay, I still don’t know what it is. Sorry. But I will. Just wait. I’m gonna figure out what protocol two is, for sure. In the meantime, just keep reading, be happy, and don’t worry.
“Okay, let’s try this again. One…two…three…”
This, my friends, was the seventh game of hide and seek. And I swear, I have never had worse players.
Wilfred was plain banned from the game. I mean come on, who can find a fly? All he’d have to do is land on same and sit there. In fact, he could probably buzz around the whole time and still no one would find him.
The kids didn’t seem to know how to hide, or even play the game for that matter. They would hide in the most obvious places possible, a lot of which were objects that were only big enough to cover their faces. It’s like they were going by the whole “if I can’t see him, he can’t see me” thing. Which is just lies and slander, I’ll have you know.
Ben, well Ben’s a freakin’ huge bear. Not many places he can hide successfully, now are there?
Man, whose dumb idea had this been anyway?
Oh wait…don’t answer that.
So, getting back to more pertinent things then whose idea this might have been, the seventh round of hide and seek finished up in all of five seconds, pretty much. Found the two kids attempting to squeeze into the same spot behind a chair that wouldn’t have hidden even one of them, and Ben was trying to hide behind a door. I knew this because I came upon a door that wasn’t totally closed, but when I pushed against it, it met spongy resistance and someone said ouch.
“Well guys,” I said to them after I got them all back together. “We’re failing pretty hard here.”
The kids hung their heads and Ben looked sad. Well, he might’ve looked hungry, but I think it was sad. Sad is just more theatrical and good stuff like that, wouldn’t you agree?
“Why do we even need to find this, Narnia?” Ben asked.
“Because Narnia’s awesome!” I replied. “Its got all sorts of cool stuff, like, like, like talking animals!”
Ben gave me a flat stare.
“Oh, right, yeah. I guess I do have pretty much the most awesome thing about Narnia right here. Man! I can’t believe I just wasted that time playing hide and seek.”
Ben shrugged. “Oh well. Now what?”
I sat down in a chair with a huff. “I dunno.”
Dingdong.
I sat up straight. “What was that?”
“Ah think et’s tha doorbell.”
I was glad Wilfred replied there, because when he got banned from hide and seek I think it made him kind of mad.
I hopped to my feet. “Righto. I shall sally forth to answer the door. You all stay put.”
It took me a while to get to the door, wrong turns and all that, but eventually I made it. I opened the door and guess who it was? Actually, considering how we last parted, it was kinda awkward.
“Oh, uh, hi Bob.”
He smiled, but it looked rather forced. “Owen Tucker.”
I nodded. “Yup, that’s me. What can I do for you?”
“I come in, please?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, why not? But are you sure you wanna come in here?”
He nodded, so I shrugged again and opened the door wide. He walked in and looked around with a big smile on his face.
“So, what can I do for you?” I asked, yet again.
He turned to me with this big ol’ grin on his face and pulled out the strangest looking gun I’ve ever seen in my life.
“You can die!”
To be continued…
Protocol 2
…
…
Okay okay, I still don’t know what it is. Sorry. But I will. Just wait. I’m gonna figure out what protocol two is, for sure. In the meantime, just keep reading, be happy, and don’t worry.
“Okay, let’s try this again. One…two…three…”
This, my friends, was the seventh game of hide and seek. And I swear, I have never had worse players.
Wilfred was plain banned from the game. I mean come on, who can find a fly? All he’d have to do is land on same and sit there. In fact, he could probably buzz around the whole time and still no one would find him.
The kids didn’t seem to know how to hide, or even play the game for that matter. They would hide in the most obvious places possible, a lot of which were objects that were only big enough to cover their faces. It’s like they were going by the whole “if I can’t see him, he can’t see me” thing. Which is just lies and slander, I’ll have you know.
Ben, well Ben’s a freakin’ huge bear. Not many places he can hide successfully, now are there?
Man, whose dumb idea had this been anyway?
Oh wait…don’t answer that.
So, getting back to more pertinent things then whose idea this might have been, the seventh round of hide and seek finished up in all of five seconds, pretty much. Found the two kids attempting to squeeze into the same spot behind a chair that wouldn’t have hidden even one of them, and Ben was trying to hide behind a door. I knew this because I came upon a door that wasn’t totally closed, but when I pushed against it, it met spongy resistance and someone said ouch.
“Well guys,” I said to them after I got them all back together. “We’re failing pretty hard here.”
The kids hung their heads and Ben looked sad. Well, he might’ve looked hungry, but I think it was sad. Sad is just more theatrical and good stuff like that, wouldn’t you agree?
“Why do we even need to find this, Narnia?” Ben asked.
“Because Narnia’s awesome!” I replied. “Its got all sorts of cool stuff, like, like, like talking animals!”
Ben gave me a flat stare.
“Oh, right, yeah. I guess I do have pretty much the most awesome thing about Narnia right here. Man! I can’t believe I just wasted that time playing hide and seek.”
Ben shrugged. “Oh well. Now what?”
I sat down in a chair with a huff. “I dunno.”
Dingdong.
I sat up straight. “What was that?”
“Ah think et’s tha doorbell.”
I was glad Wilfred replied there, because when he got banned from hide and seek I think it made him kind of mad.
I hopped to my feet. “Righto. I shall sally forth to answer the door. You all stay put.”
It took me a while to get to the door, wrong turns and all that, but eventually I made it. I opened the door and guess who it was? Actually, considering how we last parted, it was kinda awkward.
“Oh, uh, hi Bob.”
He smiled, but it looked rather forced. “Owen Tucker.”
I nodded. “Yup, that’s me. What can I do for you?”
“I come in, please?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, why not? But are you sure you wanna come in here?”
He nodded, so I shrugged again and opened the door wide. He walked in and looked around with a big smile on his face.
“So, what can I do for you?” I asked, yet again.
He turned to me with this big ol’ grin on his face and pulled out the strangest looking gun I’ve ever seen in my life.
“You can die!”
To be continued…
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Legends
Note from Owen Tucker: Okay, so I don't have those other protocols. But don’t worry, I’ll get them. Eventually.
I paced back and forth in front of all my suspects, giving the lot of them suspicious glares every now and then.
There was Ben, filling up an entire corner all by himself and not looking very concerned at all. There was Elizabeth and Fredrick, looking very nervous and silently bickering over something. Then there was Wilfred who was, well, I really don’t know what he was doing since I couldn’t see him. And Dave was just a ring on my finger, so I couldn’t really read anything off him either.
But that was okay! Because I already knew who was guilty of what, when, where, how, and why.
“Okay!” The kids jumped and I stopped pacing and glared at them. “You kids. You know what you’ve done?”
They shook their heads violently.
“Well that’s good, cause you ain’t done nuthin’.”
I grinned and they looked confused.
“Ben, you’re just fine too,” I nodded at him.
“I should hope so,” he replied.
“Howard, you’re just fine also,” I patted the wall. “So that just leaves us two suspects. Wilfred and Dave.”
“Tuh, ya’re bein’ rediculous lad. Ah haven’t dun anythin’.”
“Yup, I know. So it’s all DAVE’S fault!”
What did I do this time?
“Oho! So you admit that this isn’t your first offence?”
By your book. By mine, I’m clean.
“And we all know how flawed and biased your book is, of course.”
Oh, of course.
“But the offence I am referencing now happened just a few minutes ago, back in that forest when Ben was stuck in the door. I asked if you could enlarge Howard a bit, and you said, and I quote ‘the house of—I mean Howard’. Now what did you mean by that, hhhhhmmmm? The house of what?”
Why on earth would I tell you?
“Because you’re on my finger, that’s why. And if I don’t like you, I can stick you back in that rock to rot quick as you please.”
Oh that’s low.
I grinned. “I know, right?” I killed the grin, replacing it with a scowl. “So start talkin’.”
Very well. Although I would like it noted that I am doing this under duress.
“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just get on with it.”
This house’s proper name is the House of Legend.
I gasped. “The House of Legend? Seriously? Wow! Hang on. What’s the House of Legend?”
If Dave had eyes I just know he would’ve rolled them. The House of Legend is just that, a house of legends. Within these walls are contained every legend known to man.
“Dude, that’s awesome.” I gestured upstairs. “So that forest we were just in?”
Hansel and Gretel, with some strange oddities mixed in, I must say.
“No kidding. Like the fact that their names aren’t Hansel and Gretel.”
“Why are you talking about our cousins?” Elizabeth piped up.
“Huh?”
“Our cousins, Hansel and Gretel,” Fredrick clarified.
“Oh, gotcha.” I shook my head. “Man, your family has some real problems.”
Now that you know, what will you do?
I shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe I’ll go find Narnia!”
Should be easy enough. All you need to do is find the room with the wardrobe.
“In Howard? That’ll take forever! There has to be some quick way.”
I’m afraid I can’t help you.
I thought for a few minutes, then an idea came to me in a flash.
“Who’s ready for a game of hide and seek?”
To be continued…
I paced back and forth in front of all my suspects, giving the lot of them suspicious glares every now and then.
There was Ben, filling up an entire corner all by himself and not looking very concerned at all. There was Elizabeth and Fredrick, looking very nervous and silently bickering over something. Then there was Wilfred who was, well, I really don’t know what he was doing since I couldn’t see him. And Dave was just a ring on my finger, so I couldn’t really read anything off him either.
But that was okay! Because I already knew who was guilty of what, when, where, how, and why.
“Okay!” The kids jumped and I stopped pacing and glared at them. “You kids. You know what you’ve done?”
They shook their heads violently.
“Well that’s good, cause you ain’t done nuthin’.”
I grinned and they looked confused.
“Ben, you’re just fine too,” I nodded at him.
“I should hope so,” he replied.
“Howard, you’re just fine also,” I patted the wall. “So that just leaves us two suspects. Wilfred and Dave.”
“Tuh, ya’re bein’ rediculous lad. Ah haven’t dun anythin’.”
“Yup, I know. So it’s all DAVE’S fault!”
What did I do this time?
“Oho! So you admit that this isn’t your first offence?”
By your book. By mine, I’m clean.
“And we all know how flawed and biased your book is, of course.”
Oh, of course.
“But the offence I am referencing now happened just a few minutes ago, back in that forest when Ben was stuck in the door. I asked if you could enlarge Howard a bit, and you said, and I quote ‘the house of—I mean Howard’. Now what did you mean by that, hhhhhmmmm? The house of what?”
Why on earth would I tell you?
“Because you’re on my finger, that’s why. And if I don’t like you, I can stick you back in that rock to rot quick as you please.”
Oh that’s low.
I grinned. “I know, right?” I killed the grin, replacing it with a scowl. “So start talkin’.”
Very well. Although I would like it noted that I am doing this under duress.
“Yeah yeah, whatever. Just get on with it.”
This house’s proper name is the House of Legend.
I gasped. “The House of Legend? Seriously? Wow! Hang on. What’s the House of Legend?”
If Dave had eyes I just know he would’ve rolled them. The House of Legend is just that, a house of legends. Within these walls are contained every legend known to man.
“Dude, that’s awesome.” I gestured upstairs. “So that forest we were just in?”
Hansel and Gretel, with some strange oddities mixed in, I must say.
“No kidding. Like the fact that their names aren’t Hansel and Gretel.”
“Why are you talking about our cousins?” Elizabeth piped up.
“Huh?”
“Our cousins, Hansel and Gretel,” Fredrick clarified.
“Oh, gotcha.” I shook my head. “Man, your family has some real problems.”
Now that you know, what will you do?
I shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe I’ll go find Narnia!”
Should be easy enough. All you need to do is find the room with the wardrobe.
“In Howard? That’ll take forever! There has to be some quick way.”
I’m afraid I can’t help you.
I thought for a few minutes, then an idea came to me in a flash.
“Who’s ready for a game of hide and seek?”
To be continued…
Monday, September 17, 2012
Home Improvement
Note from Owen Tucker: Hey. You. The person reading this. Yes, I’m talking to you. There are certain protocols that must be observed before you can read this blog. If you violate these protocols, I will not be bringing any retribution down on you, but you can be assured that your own mind will be bringing plenty of its own. Because without these very crucial protocols, you will be lost beyond belief and may never find your path again. Therefore, I urge you to pay close and careful attention to what I am about to tell you.
Protocol 1: If you haven’t already, go back and read the previous blog posts!
Protocol 2:
Protocol 3:
Protocol 4:
Protocol 5:
Yes, I do realize all the protocols after 1 are blank. That is something for me to worry about and you to forget. Now I will let you continue with your reading. Good luck.
When Ben tried to get into Howard, we came upon a rather perplexing problem. Remember, he’s a freakin’ huge bear, and this door was just a normal man-sized door. He got his head through just fine, then his neck came on in good, but the rest of him kind of jammed.
After pushing and shoving for a while, he finally slumped in defeat. “I’m afraid I can’t fit. I must go back to the forest and live out a normal, lonely, bearish life.”
“Preposterous!” I said. “I have these super awesome magic powers. Getting you through this door will be easy as pie.”
“Oh? How will you do it then?”
I stroked my chin in an effort to appear wise as I thought. “Hhhmmm. Well the most obvious solution is to make the door bigger.”
Ben brightened. “Yes, that might work.”
I held up a finger. “However, that could compromise the structural integrity of the rest of Howard, resulting in it falling apart, with us still inside.”
Ben’s face fell. “That would be a bad thing, wouldn’t it?”
I nodded. “Yes, just a bit. However again! I have the solution to the flaw in that solution.”
“Do tell.”
“I’ll just make the whole house bigger! It’s the only logical solution, since you’ll no doubt have this problem with all the other doors too.”
Ben’s head bobbed slowly. “It does seem that way. But can you do that?”
I scoffed. “Can I do that? Ha! As if I couldn’t.” I paused for a second. “I can do that, right Dave?”
The House of—I mean, Howard, is highly receptive to any need. It will be easy.
Oho! Dave ol’ buddy thought I didn’t catch his slip there, but I did! He still thinks I’m too dumb to notice details like a little stammer there, but I’m not! Just you wait, Mister Dave, just you wait.
In the middle of my internal tirade against Dave, I realized that Ben was looking expectantly at me.
“Oh, right,” I said. “Yup, it ain’t a problem. Howard can get supersized easy peasy.”
“Then let’s not wait, shall we? I jammed myself rather tight in this doorway, and it isn’t the most comfortable position.”
I nodded vigorously. “Of course. Operation Get-Ben-Outta-That-Doorway-There will commence post haste!”
I struck a dramatic pose pointing at the doorway. “Okay, Dave, fire at will!”
Why don’t I just hit Howard instead?
“Shut up. This is no time to be wisecracking.”
That wasn’t a wisecrack. It was a rather dumb crack.
“Will you just blow the house up already!?”
If you say so…
“Metaphorically!” I yelled, not liking his tone. “Don’t actually blow it up, like boom. Blow it up, like enlarge it, yeah?”
Of course. Why would I think anything else?
“Because you’re a bugger, that’s why. Now get blowing.”
As the last syllable left my mouth, Howard started growing. It was like one of those crazy optical illusions. Everything was getting bigger, but staying the exact same. It was disconcerting.
It only took a few seconds for the whole process. Ben let out a sigh of relief when the door had gotten big enough to let him in.
“Nicely done, Owen,” he said as he lumbered inside.
“Thank you,” I said, before roaring out, “I want everyone downstairs right now! There’s some explaining that needs doing and it needs doing now.”
To be continued…
Protocol 1: If you haven’t already, go back and read the previous blog posts!
Protocol 2:
Protocol 3:
Protocol 4:
Protocol 5:
Yes, I do realize all the protocols after 1 are blank. That is something for me to worry about and you to forget. Now I will let you continue with your reading. Good luck.
When Ben tried to get into Howard, we came upon a rather perplexing problem. Remember, he’s a freakin’ huge bear, and this door was just a normal man-sized door. He got his head through just fine, then his neck came on in good, but the rest of him kind of jammed.
After pushing and shoving for a while, he finally slumped in defeat. “I’m afraid I can’t fit. I must go back to the forest and live out a normal, lonely, bearish life.”
“Preposterous!” I said. “I have these super awesome magic powers. Getting you through this door will be easy as pie.”
“Oh? How will you do it then?”
I stroked my chin in an effort to appear wise as I thought. “Hhhmmm. Well the most obvious solution is to make the door bigger.”
Ben brightened. “Yes, that might work.”
I held up a finger. “However, that could compromise the structural integrity of the rest of Howard, resulting in it falling apart, with us still inside.”
Ben’s face fell. “That would be a bad thing, wouldn’t it?”
I nodded. “Yes, just a bit. However again! I have the solution to the flaw in that solution.”
“Do tell.”
“I’ll just make the whole house bigger! It’s the only logical solution, since you’ll no doubt have this problem with all the other doors too.”
Ben’s head bobbed slowly. “It does seem that way. But can you do that?”
I scoffed. “Can I do that? Ha! As if I couldn’t.” I paused for a second. “I can do that, right Dave?”
The House of—I mean, Howard, is highly receptive to any need. It will be easy.
Oho! Dave ol’ buddy thought I didn’t catch his slip there, but I did! He still thinks I’m too dumb to notice details like a little stammer there, but I’m not! Just you wait, Mister Dave, just you wait.
In the middle of my internal tirade against Dave, I realized that Ben was looking expectantly at me.
“Oh, right,” I said. “Yup, it ain’t a problem. Howard can get supersized easy peasy.”
“Then let’s not wait, shall we? I jammed myself rather tight in this doorway, and it isn’t the most comfortable position.”
I nodded vigorously. “Of course. Operation Get-Ben-Outta-That-Doorway-There will commence post haste!”
I struck a dramatic pose pointing at the doorway. “Okay, Dave, fire at will!”
Why don’t I just hit Howard instead?
“Shut up. This is no time to be wisecracking.”
That wasn’t a wisecrack. It was a rather dumb crack.
“Will you just blow the house up already!?”
If you say so…
“Metaphorically!” I yelled, not liking his tone. “Don’t actually blow it up, like boom. Blow it up, like enlarge it, yeah?”
Of course. Why would I think anything else?
“Because you’re a bugger, that’s why. Now get blowing.”
As the last syllable left my mouth, Howard started growing. It was like one of those crazy optical illusions. Everything was getting bigger, but staying the exact same. It was disconcerting.
It only took a few seconds for the whole process. Ben let out a sigh of relief when the door had gotten big enough to let him in.
“Nicely done, Owen,” he said as he lumbered inside.
“Thank you,” I said, before roaring out, “I want everyone downstairs right now! There’s some explaining that needs doing and it needs doing now.”
To be continued…
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Names
Note from Owen Tucker: I would really hope that, by now, you’d know the drill. But if, in fact, you don’t, perhaps because you are new here (if you are, a most hearty welcome), then let me inform you that this is a long running story, so if you do not wish to be lost, you might want to go back and read from the beginning. Otherwise you’ll probably be just like “talking bear? Wwwwhhhhaaaaa?” and it won’t be fun. Thank you.
After wandering around for about five minutes, I decided I needed some help.
“Dave,” I said. “I think it’s time for you to do your magical thingy that warps us back to Howard, or however you were planning on doing it.”
Aye aye, Captain.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. The birds tweeted, the stream gurgled, the bear munched a few leafs, and the kids kept opening their mouths to say something and then closing them again.
Then came the weirdest sensation I’ve ever felt. We were all still standing, not moving an inch, but the trees around us started moving. Slowly at first, like a car in first gear, but then faster and faster. Soon the trees and everything else was whizzing past us, and I know my legs weren’t moving. It all came to an abrupt halt. Right in front of the door back to Howard.
It was still standing there, wide open.
“Nice job, Dave. Now, everyone, get in there, nice and quiet like.” As the kids were walking past me, I grabbed them. “Hold up there, you two.”
They looked up at me, trying to put on the most innocent faces they could manage.
“Nu uh, that ain’t gonna work on me.” I shook my head vigorously. “You two don’t get to go in there until you spill the beans.”
“Okay!” the boy yelped, speaking for the first time without his sister being in tune. “Elizabeth did it!”
“Did not!” the girl squealed, her first time without her brother. “It was Fredrick!”
I stroked my chin for a moment, looking as menacing as I could manage.
Then I smiled. “I have no idea what this thing is that you two are talking about, but you answered my question anyway, so you can go in.”
They looked at me, then at each other, shrugged, and went through the door.
I turned to the bear. “You, sir, are welcome to join us, on one condition.”
“And what might that be?” the bear asked.
“That you tell me your name. Can’t stand things without names, as you can see.” I gestured to the place where the kids had been.
“Ah,” he chuckled. “No need for mystery here. My name is Benedict.”
I stared at him. “You’re kidding right?”
He looked wounded. “No, of course not. Benedict is a perfectly good name.”
I snorted. “Yeah, sure. Except it’s the name of the biggest traitor in American history. So big, in fact, that Benedict is now equivalent to traitor.”
The bear sniffed. “Well it’s not my fault that your society destroyed a wonderful name like Benedict.”
I nodded. “You’re absolutely right. But I just can’t call you Benedict. How about Ben for short?”
Ben sighed. “If you must.”
“Kewl beans.” I raised an eyebrow. “So does that mean you’ll be joining our little party?”
He pulled some leafy greens from a nearby bush and chewed on them thoughtfully for a moment.
He swallowed. “Yes, I believe I will.”
To be continued…
After wandering around for about five minutes, I decided I needed some help.
“Dave,” I said. “I think it’s time for you to do your magical thingy that warps us back to Howard, or however you were planning on doing it.”
Aye aye, Captain.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. The birds tweeted, the stream gurgled, the bear munched a few leafs, and the kids kept opening their mouths to say something and then closing them again.
Then came the weirdest sensation I’ve ever felt. We were all still standing, not moving an inch, but the trees around us started moving. Slowly at first, like a car in first gear, but then faster and faster. Soon the trees and everything else was whizzing past us, and I know my legs weren’t moving. It all came to an abrupt halt. Right in front of the door back to Howard.
It was still standing there, wide open.
“Nice job, Dave. Now, everyone, get in there, nice and quiet like.” As the kids were walking past me, I grabbed them. “Hold up there, you two.”
They looked up at me, trying to put on the most innocent faces they could manage.
“Nu uh, that ain’t gonna work on me.” I shook my head vigorously. “You two don’t get to go in there until you spill the beans.”
“Okay!” the boy yelped, speaking for the first time without his sister being in tune. “Elizabeth did it!”
“Did not!” the girl squealed, her first time without her brother. “It was Fredrick!”
I stroked my chin for a moment, looking as menacing as I could manage.
Then I smiled. “I have no idea what this thing is that you two are talking about, but you answered my question anyway, so you can go in.”
They looked at me, then at each other, shrugged, and went through the door.
I turned to the bear. “You, sir, are welcome to join us, on one condition.”
“And what might that be?” the bear asked.
“That you tell me your name. Can’t stand things without names, as you can see.” I gestured to the place where the kids had been.
“Ah,” he chuckled. “No need for mystery here. My name is Benedict.”
I stared at him. “You’re kidding right?”
He looked wounded. “No, of course not. Benedict is a perfectly good name.”
I snorted. “Yeah, sure. Except it’s the name of the biggest traitor in American history. So big, in fact, that Benedict is now equivalent to traitor.”
The bear sniffed. “Well it’s not my fault that your society destroyed a wonderful name like Benedict.”
I nodded. “You’re absolutely right. But I just can’t call you Benedict. How about Ben for short?”
Ben sighed. “If you must.”
“Kewl beans.” I raised an eyebrow. “So does that mean you’ll be joining our little party?”
He pulled some leafy greens from a nearby bush and chewed on them thoughtfully for a moment.
He swallowed. “Yes, I believe I will.”
To be continued…
Monday, September 10, 2012
Bears, Flies, and Kids
Note from Owen Tucker: I expect you know the drill by now. But, if by some off chance you don’t, check the previous posts and you will.
With a yelp I scooted backward on my butt as fast as I could. Right into a tree.
“Please don’t eat me!” I pleaded.
“Hohoho,” the bear laughed in a really deep, gravelly voice. “I’m going to have you for breakfast, yes indeed.”
I looked up at the sky. “Are you sure? Seems to me more like dinner. Maybe you should reconsider because of this new development.”
The bear chuckled. “No no. It’s breakfast. Actually, you’re breakfast.” He chuckled again. “Ah my. I amuse myself so much with my stunning wit.”
“Eheh. Right. But it’s still dinnertime.”
The bear slammed his paw on the ground and roared. “It’s breakfast! Now shut up so I can eat you in peace.”
“Never!” I jumped to my feet and put my fists up. “You won’t take me without a fight!”
“Oh really?” The bear stuck his head into my face. “What you going to do, puny human?”
I took a step back and popped him a good one, right on the nose. He reared back and sat on his rump with a thud, holding his nose with his front paws.
“Ouch.” His voice was muffled. “That hurt. Why’d you do a mean thing like that?”
I stared at him. “Uh, maybe because you were going to eat me?”
The bear waved a paw. “Get out. I was joking. I couldn’t eat anyone. I’m a vegetarian.”
I stared at him some more. “A vegetarian bear? Seriously?”
He looked wounded. “Yes, seriously. What’s wrong with a vegetarian bear? Do you have something against vegetables?”
“What kid my age doesn’t?”
He shrugged. “How should I know? I’m a bear.”
The kids finally had the courage to come out from behind the tree I was backed up against. They looked at me, then at the bear, then back to me.
“What are you doing?” they asked in their really annoying off-sync chorus.
I rolled my eyes. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
They looked at the bear again, then back to me. “Talking to an imaginary friend in a state of hysteria before a bear eats you?”
“No, that’s not what I’m doing. Besides, the bear’s vegetarian.”
They didn’t even bother looking at the bear this time, they just stared at me. “A vegetarian bear?”
“Hey, that’s what I said. But he’s very adamant.”
At this point the bear heaved himself back onto all four paws and lumbered forward to the kids. They stood petrified as he snuffled them.
“Humph,” he said. “They would probably make a better breakfast than you. If I wasn’t a vegetarian that is.”
I nodded. “Oh yes, most definitely. In fact, would you maybe consider breaking your veggie diet just this once?”
“Owen! Ah’m ashamed weth ya.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Aw darn it, Wilfred! I forgot you were there.”
“We think you’re going insane,” the kids said.
“Naw he’s na, kiddos. He’s jest alweys been tha wey.”
“You know, I’m rather inclined to agree with the accented one,” the bear put in.
“Wha thank ya, good sah.”
“Oh my pleasure I’m sure.”
“Wwwhhhhaaaa! We’re gonna die!”
“My my, they do cause a racket.”
“Aye, they do. Ah thought ya shut them up, laddie.”
“Would you ALL just shut up for a second!” I yelled. “I can’t think straight with you all talking like that.”
The kids looked around. “It’s just us talking.”
“No, it’s not. The bear is talking and there is a fly around here somewhere who is also talking. This is fact, not fiction, and you kids are just gonna have to deal with it, okay?”
“But, bears and flies don’t talk.”
“Yes, yes they don’t. You just don’t listen closely enough.” I hold up my hand as they open their mouths again. “No. No more talking. We’re all going back to Howard now, and if I hear one peep out of any of you, it will not be a happy day for that person. Animal. Bug. Whatever.”
To be continued…
With a yelp I scooted backward on my butt as fast as I could. Right into a tree.
“Please don’t eat me!” I pleaded.
“Hohoho,” the bear laughed in a really deep, gravelly voice. “I’m going to have you for breakfast, yes indeed.”
I looked up at the sky. “Are you sure? Seems to me more like dinner. Maybe you should reconsider because of this new development.”
The bear chuckled. “No no. It’s breakfast. Actually, you’re breakfast.” He chuckled again. “Ah my. I amuse myself so much with my stunning wit.”
“Eheh. Right. But it’s still dinnertime.”
The bear slammed his paw on the ground and roared. “It’s breakfast! Now shut up so I can eat you in peace.”
“Never!” I jumped to my feet and put my fists up. “You won’t take me without a fight!”
“Oh really?” The bear stuck his head into my face. “What you going to do, puny human?”
I took a step back and popped him a good one, right on the nose. He reared back and sat on his rump with a thud, holding his nose with his front paws.
“Ouch.” His voice was muffled. “That hurt. Why’d you do a mean thing like that?”
I stared at him. “Uh, maybe because you were going to eat me?”
The bear waved a paw. “Get out. I was joking. I couldn’t eat anyone. I’m a vegetarian.”
I stared at him some more. “A vegetarian bear? Seriously?”
He looked wounded. “Yes, seriously. What’s wrong with a vegetarian bear? Do you have something against vegetables?”
“What kid my age doesn’t?”
He shrugged. “How should I know? I’m a bear.”
The kids finally had the courage to come out from behind the tree I was backed up against. They looked at me, then at the bear, then back to me.
“What are you doing?” they asked in their really annoying off-sync chorus.
I rolled my eyes. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
They looked at the bear again, then back to me. “Talking to an imaginary friend in a state of hysteria before a bear eats you?”
“No, that’s not what I’m doing. Besides, the bear’s vegetarian.”
They didn’t even bother looking at the bear this time, they just stared at me. “A vegetarian bear?”
“Hey, that’s what I said. But he’s very adamant.”
At this point the bear heaved himself back onto all four paws and lumbered forward to the kids. They stood petrified as he snuffled them.
“Humph,” he said. “They would probably make a better breakfast than you. If I wasn’t a vegetarian that is.”
I nodded. “Oh yes, most definitely. In fact, would you maybe consider breaking your veggie diet just this once?”
“Owen! Ah’m ashamed weth ya.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Aw darn it, Wilfred! I forgot you were there.”
“We think you’re going insane,” the kids said.
“Naw he’s na, kiddos. He’s jest alweys been tha wey.”
“You know, I’m rather inclined to agree with the accented one,” the bear put in.
“Wha thank ya, good sah.”
“Oh my pleasure I’m sure.”
“Wwwhhhhaaaa! We’re gonna die!”
“My my, they do cause a racket.”
“Aye, they do. Ah thought ya shut them up, laddie.”
“Would you ALL just shut up for a second!” I yelled. “I can’t think straight with you all talking like that.”
The kids looked around. “It’s just us talking.”
“No, it’s not. The bear is talking and there is a fly around here somewhere who is also talking. This is fact, not fiction, and you kids are just gonna have to deal with it, okay?”
“But, bears and flies don’t talk.”
“Yes, yes they don’t. You just don’t listen closely enough.” I hold up my hand as they open their mouths again. “No. No more talking. We’re all going back to Howard now, and if I hear one peep out of any of you, it will not be a happy day for that person. Animal. Bug. Whatever.”
To be continued…
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Silence is Golden
Note from Owen Tucker: If uninformed, read previous posts. Thank you.
“Are we there yet?”
I ground my teeth in frustration as the kids voices broke the silence of the forest for about the fifteen millionth time. With the same question.
“Are we there yet?”
I spun around and glared at them. “No! We are not freakin’ there. And no matter how much you ask me, it will not make us be there. Okay?”
They stared up at me. “When are we going to get there?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you know?”
“Because I don’t!” I yelled so loud I startled some birdies.
They continued to stare at me. “Why?”
I took a breath to answer, then let it out, closed my mouth, turned around, and started walking again. This bought me five seconds of silence.
“Are we there yet?”
“We get there when we get there! Don’t you kids watch movies?”
“What’s a movie?”
I stopped and stared at the little buggers. Then it dawned on me. Their father’s a woodsman, duh. They’ve never even seen a TV in their life.
So I tried explaining. “A movie is like a magical play in which the characters pursue a goal. To achieve this goal, they must overcome many difficult, and usually dangerous, obstacles. The movie ends when the characters defeat whatever it is obstructing them and obtain their goal.”
The kids were staring at me. I could see incomprehension written all over their faces. Their next words confirmed it.
“What’s a movie?”
I rolled my eyes and continued walking. “Never mind. Just forget it about.”
“But what’s a movie?”
“Forget it! I’m not going to explain again.”
“But we need to know what a movie is!”
“Forgetaboutit!”
“But what’s a movie?”
“Not one more peep, kids! I’m warning you. If you speak again, it will be the last time you do so for a long while.”
“But—“
“Ah! Dave, please conduct the mouth gluing operation you seem to be so adept at.”
The next sound I heard was muffled exclamations of surprise.
“Could you kill the mumbling too?”
Silence. Wonderful, golden silence.
“Why thank you, Dave.”
Always a pleasure.
“Ha! Fat chance.”
But I let it go at that. After all, the forest was looking lovely with the sun shining down through the leafy boughs in beautiful rays, the brook dancing along, trying to catch the rays, and the squirrels running up and down the trees, screaming the worst insults you’ve ever heard at anything and everything. Just beautiful.
Then the kids would have to ruin it. They came up beside me, one on each side, and started tugging at my arms. Even silenced they’re still annoying.
I shook them off. “What what? Get lost. Trying to enjoy the scenic scenery here.”
They started pulling at my pants, pointing behind me, and doing a little dance.
I sighed. “Okay, yeah, sure. We can take a potty break.” I stopped and sat down against a nearby tree. “All righty. Go on now.”
But they just kept jumping up and down in front of me, waving their hands all over the place.
I shook my head. “Nope. Nu uh. Ain’t happening. I silenced you guys so I wouldn’t have to listen to your nonsense. There is no way I’m sitting here for an interpretive dance.” I got to my feet. “Let’s get a move on, kiddos.”
As soon as I got up, though, they grabbed my hands again. This time one kid pulled in one direction while the other went the opposite.
“No, kids,” I explained. “When you’re trying to pull someone, you always pull together. In the same direction.”
Finally the kids let go and performed what could only be interpreted as a dance of rage. Then they exchanged a nod and did something really cool that impressed me for about five seconds. The girl kicked the back of my right knee and the boy shoved me on the same side, resulting in me falling onto my butt, facing the opposite direction.
Now what amazed me was the amount of coordination they displayed to achieve that result. The reason that amazement only lasted five seconds was that their maneuver brought me face to face with a freakin’ huge bear.
To be continued…
“Are we there yet?”
I ground my teeth in frustration as the kids voices broke the silence of the forest for about the fifteen millionth time. With the same question.
“Are we there yet?”
I spun around and glared at them. “No! We are not freakin’ there. And no matter how much you ask me, it will not make us be there. Okay?”
They stared up at me. “When are we going to get there?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you know?”
“Because I don’t!” I yelled so loud I startled some birdies.
They continued to stare at me. “Why?”
I took a breath to answer, then let it out, closed my mouth, turned around, and started walking again. This bought me five seconds of silence.
“Are we there yet?”
“We get there when we get there! Don’t you kids watch movies?”
“What’s a movie?”
I stopped and stared at the little buggers. Then it dawned on me. Their father’s a woodsman, duh. They’ve never even seen a TV in their life.
So I tried explaining. “A movie is like a magical play in which the characters pursue a goal. To achieve this goal, they must overcome many difficult, and usually dangerous, obstacles. The movie ends when the characters defeat whatever it is obstructing them and obtain their goal.”
The kids were staring at me. I could see incomprehension written all over their faces. Their next words confirmed it.
“What’s a movie?”
I rolled my eyes and continued walking. “Never mind. Just forget it about.”
“But what’s a movie?”
“Forget it! I’m not going to explain again.”
“But we need to know what a movie is!”
“Forgetaboutit!”
“But what’s a movie?”
“Not one more peep, kids! I’m warning you. If you speak again, it will be the last time you do so for a long while.”
“But—“
“Ah! Dave, please conduct the mouth gluing operation you seem to be so adept at.”
The next sound I heard was muffled exclamations of surprise.
“Could you kill the mumbling too?”
Silence. Wonderful, golden silence.
“Why thank you, Dave.”
Always a pleasure.
“Ha! Fat chance.”
But I let it go at that. After all, the forest was looking lovely with the sun shining down through the leafy boughs in beautiful rays, the brook dancing along, trying to catch the rays, and the squirrels running up and down the trees, screaming the worst insults you’ve ever heard at anything and everything. Just beautiful.
Then the kids would have to ruin it. They came up beside me, one on each side, and started tugging at my arms. Even silenced they’re still annoying.
I shook them off. “What what? Get lost. Trying to enjoy the scenic scenery here.”
They started pulling at my pants, pointing behind me, and doing a little dance.
I sighed. “Okay, yeah, sure. We can take a potty break.” I stopped and sat down against a nearby tree. “All righty. Go on now.”
But they just kept jumping up and down in front of me, waving their hands all over the place.
I shook my head. “Nope. Nu uh. Ain’t happening. I silenced you guys so I wouldn’t have to listen to your nonsense. There is no way I’m sitting here for an interpretive dance.” I got to my feet. “Let’s get a move on, kiddos.”
As soon as I got up, though, they grabbed my hands again. This time one kid pulled in one direction while the other went the opposite.
“No, kids,” I explained. “When you’re trying to pull someone, you always pull together. In the same direction.”
Finally the kids let go and performed what could only be interpreted as a dance of rage. Then they exchanged a nod and did something really cool that impressed me for about five seconds. The girl kicked the back of my right knee and the boy shoved me on the same side, resulting in me falling onto my butt, facing the opposite direction.
Now what amazed me was the amount of coordination they displayed to achieve that result. The reason that amazement only lasted five seconds was that their maneuver brought me face to face with a freakin’ huge bear.
To be continued…
Monday, September 3, 2012
Confliction
Note from Owen Tucker:
Okay, still applies. If you don’t
know what’s going on, check back. Or you
could just skip this one entirely. I
mean, uh, this doesn’t really contain any, er, pertinent information that is
just absolutely vital for you to know.
You could easily skip it and still be in the loop without loss of any
events that have any real bearing on the story.
It’s just, y’know, well—aw forget it.
Just keep reading and get it over with.
“Darn you! You’re being very rude, you know that?”
“Ya blitherin’ idiot!”
I jumped at the sound of Wilfred’s voice. “Whoa! Dude, don’t scare me like that.”
“Ah’ll scar ya eny way Ah like, ya stoopid oaf.”
Luckily for me the kids were still knocked out, or I
would’ve looked a tad crazy.
“Hey!” I said. “Watch it, bud, or Dave might do
something rash. Isn’t that right, Dave?”
Rash, no. Calculated, yes.
“Wha’eva! Ah can
na believe how stoopid ya were, boy. An’
tha ya had the gall ta glue mah mouth shut agan.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t glue nobodies nothing!”
"Doon't botha playin' innecent weth me,
laddie. I can see right through
ya."
"What are you talking about? That's preposterous! I told you, I have glued nuthin'!"
“Weel then who shut mah mouth?”
“Why are you asking me?
I’m just all dumb and stupid, remember?”
“Oo, Ah’m soory.
Ah had a slight lapse en memory.”“Darn you! You’re being very rude, you know that?”
“No, Ah’m jest givin’ it ta ya straight, boy. Ya were helpin’ tha old witch ta cook those
children. D’y’hear? Helpin’ her.”
“Preposterous!
That nice old lady was cooking them some soup for dinner!”
“She had them en tha pot, ya idiot! She was cookin’ them fa dinnah.”
I sat down, shocked by these new revelations. Was she really cooking them? Could I have been that…ignorant, so as not to
see it? I am I really, I gasped, stupid?
Wilfred interrupted my deep reflections. “Now Ah want
ta know who shut mah mouth.”
“Why are you asking me?
I’m just dumb and stupid, remember?”
“Ach. Drop tha
pety party, laddie. Et doon’t suit ya.”
“Well maybe I’m just not smart enough to do anything
else, okay?”
“Jest tell me already!”
“Okay, fine. It
was Dave.”
Me? What did I do?
I scowled. “I
don’t know. It’s standard protocol. When everything goes wrong, blame it on the
magical artifact thingy.”
That makes
absolutely no sense.
“But tha accusation actually dooes." Wilfred cut in. "Ya are tha only other oone here who has
magic.”
What about the
witch?
“How culd she know Ah’m here?”
Hm, let me
think. Because she’s a witch?
“Ach. Now ya’re
usin’ worse explanations than tha boy.”
I got up. “Will you two just shut up already? Nobody here is nice in any way anymore,
except for those kids. So I’m gonna take
them and find them a nice place to live, all right? Now you’d both better help me, or I’ll smack
you, Wilfred. And you, Dave, I’ll stick
you back in your stone. How about that,
hm?”
“Ya wouldna dare!”
What he said.
“Try me.”
I started walking away.
Then I remembered the kids were still knocked out. So I woke them up, had them do a few jumping
jacks to get their blood flowing and to work off all that candy, before heading
out into the great unknown.
To be continued…
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