There is a Fly. On the Wall

   Hey.  Owen Tucker here.  Again.
   This time round I’m going to introduce you to a new friend.  I’ll tell you all about him in the journal part.  I’m just mentioning him here because I’m gonna need your help with this.  The reason for which is that this new guy has a Scottish accent.  And it’s one thing to imitate a Scottish accent, and a whole different story to write one.  But this guy just isn’t the same if you don’t hear him with a Scottish accent.  I’ll try my best to write one, but this is a good time to put your imaginations to good use!  Scottish accents FTW!
   6/28/12:  On this date (that being the 6th of June in the year 2012) I was sitting in my room, reading a book when a fly started buzzing around, annoying me.  I took a swipe at him.  Missed.  Took another swipe.  Missed again.  Another swipe, another miss.  After several minutes more of this, I lost my previously cool temperament.
   “Get out of here you bugger!” I yelled.
   “Haha!  Ye’ll nevah manage to swat me, laddie,” the fly answered with a Scottish accent.
   I stopped swinging at him. “Whoa!  Cool!  You have a Scottish accent.”
   The fly alighted on the back of my chair. “Indeed Ah do.”
   “That’s sweet.  What’s your name?”
   “Ma name is,” the fly did a fancy little loopy thingy. “Wilfred De Wasper.”
   I stared at him. “Wasper?”
   “Aye.  Ya got a problem with et?”
   I shrugged. “Well, not really.  But, uh, you’re a fly, not a wasp.”
   “Ya don’t think I know that?”
   “If you do, why is your name Wasper?”
   “Et wasn’t very weel my idea, now was et?  Ma mother named ma.”
   “Oh, well, in that case, we’d best just move on.”
   “Ah thought as much.”
   I thought about the possibilities Wilfred had, and smiled. “So, being a fly and all, you can do the whole ‘fly on the wall’ sneaky thing, right?”
   “Ach!” I heard the tiniest of sounds and figured it was Wilfred smacking his forehead (if flies have foreheads). “Wha did ya humans have to cume up with such a stoopid song?  Eve’where Ah go now, all Ah hear is ‘fly on da wall fly on da wall fly on da wall’.  Drives a fly bonkers it does.”
   I stifled a laugh.  “Okay then.  No flies on the walls then.”
   “Although, Ah do admit, the sneakin’ around sounds fun.  Ah’d need some cool theme music though.”
   “Oo!  You mean like the Mission Impossible stuff.  That stuff is like the bedrock of secret sneaking theme music.”
   “Exactly why we should na use it.  To cliché.  We need somethin’ new.  Somethin’ exciting.”
   I stroked my chin. “Hhhmm.  I got nothing.”
   Wilfred chuckled. “Tha’s because you’re the human.  Ah’m the fly.  Ah’m the sneakin’ one.  Ah’ll think up ma own music.”
   “Ohoho.  A musical fly, eh?”
   It was at this pointed I wished I could actually see Wilfred and his body language.  But since I couldn’t, I just envisioned him in a suit, tugging at his lapels.
   “Indeed Ah am, laddie.  And et won’t be any of that ‘fly on a wall’ garbage.”
   I chuckled. “All right.  I look forward to seeing what you come up with.”

   To be continued…if Wilfred doesn’t die by flyswatter…

Tarzan and Movies!

     Tarzan!  He liveth in the jungle doing apish things.  For Tarzan was born of the apes, hence his name, Tarzan of the Apes.  And he be the toughest of the apes ‘cause he can beat up da gorillas.  With the might of his fists he can whoop up on any of them jungle creatures, although his pappy’s trusty knife comes in handy too.  He can slice n’ dice his way through purtty much anything.  ‘Cause, y’know, he’s Tarzan.  Not that stupid yelling idiot that Disney portrayed him as.  Oh no.  He’s a cold blooded killer who becomes a very respectable English gentleman.  After he kills lots of dudes and fuzzy animals with his awesome tree swinging skillz.  That’s tree swinging.  Very much different from tree surfing.  Tree surfing is something you’ll only find in the mind of Disney animators.  They were no doubt thinking, “Aw man!  Tree surfing!  This is gonna be so cool looking!”  Didn’t give a thought to fact that it is completely impossible though.  If Tarzan had done it that way, his story would have gone more like this.

     “Little boy raised among the apes.  Plays with fellow apes, climbs trees, good times.  Grows up.  Starts trying out tree surfing.  Gets about a bajillion splitters in the process and dies of foot infections.” 

What a lovely story, wouldn’t you agree?  Not!  Stupid Disney animators.  Ruin Tarzan’s awesome reputation, why doncha?  And he has black hair, for your information.  Close-cropped, black hair with steel grey eyes.  Therefore the person Disney portrayed is an impostor and all copies of that movie should be BURNED!  So there.

     Today I’m going to see a real movie.  About a princess.  With puffy red hair.  And mad archery skillz.  And it’s gonna be awesome.  You know why?  Because it’s Pixar!  Pixar has got da mad movie making skillz.  They’ve made winners every time (okay, Cars 2 was a bit of a letdown compared to the rest, but it was still good).  They make movies about rats, and make ‘em good.  They make movies about fishies, and make ‘em good.  They make movies about little robots who can’t really talk all that well, and make ‘em good.  They can even make a movie about a grumpy old man, and make it good. 

     Yeah yeah, Pixar is a branch of Disney, I know.  But that doesn’t matter!  Regular Disney guys are just regular Disney guys.  Pixar guys are the elite.  If you’re with Pixar, you got supreme skillz man.  If you ain’t with Pixar, well, heh, you ain’t with Pixar. 

     So!  The moral of this story is, go with Pixar!  They are fully awesome and you won’t regret it!   The only thing that ever beat Pixar is Hoodwinked.  Hoodwinked is the best animated movie ever.  Then those guys went and failed by making a second one.  The second one sucks.  But Hoodwinked is awesome!  If you don’t go with Pixar, go with Hoodwinked.  Or both.  Both would work.  So long as you don’t watch the second one.  If you come across that, stomp on it.  It’s a disgrace to the brilliance of the first movie. 

     I will leave you with an equation.

     Pixar+Hoodwinked=awesomeness incarnate!

Spiders and Twigs

   Howdy.
   Owen Tucker.  That’s me.  I have returned.  Again.  Whether you’re tired of me or not.  And I’ll come back, week after week, haunting you.  You’ll never be able to get rid of me.  With this whole “talk to animals with a rock” thing, the possibilities are endless.  Who knows?  I might stumble across a twig next that gives me teleportation powers.  Dang.  Now that I’m thinking about it, that’d be pretty sweet.  I hope that happens. 
   Whether it does or doesn’t, the show must go on.  So here’s the journal part.
   6/21/12:  On this date (that being the 6th of June in the year 2012) I was listening in on the conversation of two spiders.  It went like this.
   Spider 1: “Hey dude, how’s it going?”
   Spider 2: “Oh not bad.  How’d you do today?”
   Spider 1: “I did awesome!  Caught about twenty humans in my webs.”
   Spider 2:  “Sweet!  I only got around ten, but the funny thing was that after one ran through a web, the others followed right after and got some of it too.  Hilarious!”
   Spider 1: “Nice one!  High eight!”
   Spider 2: “Haha.  Humans are so entertaining.”
   Spider 1:  “Tell me about it.  Just last night one of them went through a web and she freaked out.  Complete with screaming and the panic dance.”
   Then my mom came into the room, so I had to kill them before the panic dance ensued.  That was something I most definitely didn’t want to see.  It probably would’ve given me nightmares.  With the spiders gone and all, the room got pretty boring, so I went outside for a walk.  It was entertaining just to listen to the barking dogs along the way.  They said a lot of different stuff.  Here’s a sample.
   “My house!  Get away!  Mine mine mine!”
   “Evil human!  Must kill!  Ggggrrrr!  Diediediediedie!”
   “No!  Don’t go!  Stop walking!  Come play!  Plleeeeeeeeaaaaaassseeeeeeeee!”
   Then there was one other one.  But his owner was that one guy, so he barked stuff that I am unable to repeat here.
   After I walked a ways away from the doggies, kinda more out into the wilderness (aka, place with lotsa trees) a bunny rabbit came hopping up and stopped right in front of me.  I stared at him, and he stared at me.  Then he sat up and held out a twig toward me with his front paws.  I reached down and took it and he hopped away.  All without saying a single word.  Twig in hand, I continued my walk. 
   Who knows what kind of power this bad boy could have?  Maybe I can, like, talk to trees now.  It is a twig after all.  I walked up to a tree and stared at it.
   “Hey,” I said.
   The tree said nothing.
   I shrugged and went back to walking.  If the trees wanna be stuck up, let ‘em.  See if I care.  Then a squirrel came flying out of nowhere, snagged the twig right out of my hand, and disappeared into the underbrush.  That little blighter!  The twig might have contained untold powers!  It could have been amazing.  It was, after all, a twig.  I sighed.  Oh well.  Maybe next time I take a walk an armadillo will come up and give me a piece of bark.  It’d be better than nothing.

   To be continued…sometime in the future…

Video Games

     Today’s random subject is—drum roll please—video games!  Y’know, I used to play video games.  Then I took an arrow to the knee.  You might ask how that prevents me from playing.  The obvious answer is that with my now bad knee, I can no longer handle all the strenuous movement and such that is involved with hardcore gaming.  Light gaming you say?  That’s even worse.  I’m afraid my knee just can’t take it now. 
     Y’know I got to level 879 in WoW (that’s Waldo’s of Washington for you non-gamers out there).  Now I’m sure you’re just sitting there, staring at the screen with your mouth gaping open, thinking “No way!  There is no level 879!”  Well let me tell you, there most certainly is.  You just have to have supreme skillz, such as mine.  I would’ve made it to an even 1000 if I hadn’t had that unfortunate accident with the arrow and all.  Most inconvenient timing there.  I mean, 879?  Why couldn’t I have taken that arrow when I was level 880?  At least then it’d be an even number.  Although 900 would have been preferable.
      Ah, those were the days.  Not many out there could compete with me.  Not only was I an amazing gamer in every aspect, but I was also the best athlete around.  I was a pro at baseball, bowling, tennis, boxing, and even golf.  I had to play hard at those practices to get there though.  Practice makes perfect and all that. 
     But enough talk about the good old days.  I’ve heard a newfangled game that just came out that supposed to be super amazing.  It had a funny name though.  Pokemon?  Yeah, that’s it.  Pokemon.  Except there’s supposed to be one of those little accent mark thingies over the “e” in the middle there.  Oh hey, would you look at that?  Spell check actually fixes that.  Man!  This game just came out here and already the spell checks know its name.  It must be huge.  I hear it’s got these little creatures called Pokémon (I used the spell check version that time, if you’ll notice) and you play as some kind of trainer who runs around catching the Pokémon.  Then you level them up by beating the crap out of other cute little Pokémon.  When it’s all said and done, whichever cute creature smashes the hardest wins.  It’s so adorable to watch.  I guess that’s why people like it so much. 
     There’s this one little guy named Pikachu.  He’s like a little, yellow rat with red dots for cheeks and electrical powers.  What he does is he says “Pika pika!” and then fries his opponent (probably some cute little roly-poly) with a lightning bolt.  All in good fun, of course.  And don’t worry.  None of the Pokémon get hurt.  They only slam on each other until one passes out.  Then they say “I win!” and rob the person they just beat before going on their merry way.
     So obviously the gaming world has changed some since I was around.  In other words, it’s not as awesome.  Kids these days.  They’re satisfied with just anything you give them, so long as it sparkles good and bright.  Pft.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go—do something that doesn’t require the use of my arrow wounded leg.

Kiwis

   Kiwis are misunderstood.
   No, I’m not talking about the fruit.  But the fact that there was the possibility that you thought I was talking about the fruit and not the bird simply proves my point.  Come on.  These are kiwis (bird) we’re talking about.  They’re creatures.  They have rights too.  One of those rights being that they shouldn’t be constantly mixed up with the fruit.  Because, not only is it rude, it could be very traumatizing to a poor kiwi (bird). 
   Just think.  Sometime in the near future you might be engaging is some casual conversation with your neighborhood kiwi (bird).  If you’re not careful, I’m envisioning it going something like this.
   You:  “Hey man, how’s it going?”
   Kiwi (bird): “Is good.  Party tonight?”
   You: “Oh yeah.  It’ll be amazing.  Nothing like an ice cold beer with a fresh slice of kiwi.”
   Kiwi (bird):  “What!?  That barbaric!  What are you, cannibal?!”
   You:  “No no!  I meant the fruit, I swear!”
   Kiwi (bird): “Sure you did.  That what they all say.”
   And the next day you get slapped with a big, ugly lawsuit.  Not fun, let me tell you. 
   So it would be best for all of us, not to mention money saving (especially for you who upset the kiwi [bird]) if we simply change the name of the fruit.  It fixes everything, and it doesn’t bring about any problems because who’s gonna object?  The fruit?  Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.
   Kiwi (fruit):  “What!?  Change my name?  That’s barbaric!”
   Me:  “…Hang on just a second!  You’re a fruit.  You can’t talk.”
   Kiwi (fruit): “Sure I can.  The bird can talk, why can’t I?”
   Me:  “Because you’re a fruit.  Fruit isn’t even alive.”
   Kiwi (fruit):  “Yes we are!  We grow, just like everything else, so we have just as many rights as you say the bird has.”
   Me: “But, but, but, b-b-but!”
   Kiwi (fruit):  “Ha!  You stammered.  Your argument is invalid.”
   Me: “%&$#@$! @$!#@ %!$@#@%  !%@$@#”
   Kiwi (fruit):  “Your argument contains a lot of swear words.  You must really know what you’re talking about (I got that off facebook).”
   Me: “Oho!  Your counterargument was stolen from facebook, and is therefore invalid.”
   Kiwi (fruit): “What?  No way!  You can’t do that!”
   Me: “Just did.”
   Kiwi (fruit):  “That’s not possible!”
   Me: “You know what else ain’t possible?  A fruit talking!  And here I am arguing with something that can’t talk.  This is insane.  Be quiet.  I’m going to jam my preserves.”
   Kiwi (fruit):  “There’d better not be any kiwis!”
   Me: “Tuh.  Of course not.  You ever tried to jam bird meat?”
   Kiwi (bird): “I sue!”
   Kiwi (fruit): “You tell ‘im!”
   Me: “Oi!  You get lost.  This is between me and the fruit.  Has nothing to do with you.”
   Kiwi (bird):  “Discrimination!  I sue harder!”
   Me:  “Somebody help me.”
   Kiwi (fruit): “Haha!  This is what you get for plotting against the kiwis.”
   I have it!  A solution to all the problems!  We’ll simply use some super cool technology that I’m sure someone somewhere has invented and combine the bird and the fruit, therefore removing the difference of bird and fruit.  It’ll be a new species.  Biod.  Sounds cool, doesn’t it?  Aha!  Take that you bird and fruit.  Now you are one.
   Kiwi: “…That idea sucked.  Very, very hard.”
   Me: “It worked!   Yes!”
   Kiwi: “…I’m gonna sue.”
   Me: “Aw crap…”

It's Time

   Once again, I, Owen Tucker, return to you.  Did you miss me?  Probably not.  But if you did, that’s nice.  If you didn’t, that’s just terrible and I’ll never forgive you.  Just so that we’re all on the same page.  All friendly like.
   Oh hey. Did you know that a turtle is always a tortoise, but a tortoise is not always a turtle?  That’s just a random bit of trivia I picked up when I was talking to a turtle one time.  Or was it a tortoise?  Hm.  I’m not quite sure.
   6/14/12:  On this date (that being the 6th of June in the year 2012) I was talking with a pigeon out back of my house at the birdfeeder.  He wasn’t the brightest of fellows, but his name was Peg and he was friendly.
   “Nomnom.  Humans put good food,” he said as he pecked away at the bird feed.
   I smiled. “I’m glad.  So what have you been up to lately, Peg my friend?”
   He paused a moment to wave his wing at the world in general, then went back to eating.  Amazingly birds can still talk perfectly while they’re eating.
   “Fly south,” he said. “Fly north.  Fly south.  Fly north.  Much change.”
   I nodded, hiding a smile.  “Sounds like it all right.  Do you have other birds you fly with?”
   Peg jerked his head dismissively. “No no.  Peg fly where Peg want when Peg want.”
   “A loner, eh?”
   He jerked his head in a nod.  Or he could have just been darting down to grab a sunflower seed, I’m not sure.
   I spoke again. “So I guess you see a lot of the world then, huh?”
   He waved his wing again. “Peg see much world.  Is no good.  Bird shot.  Food nasty.  Is no good.  Peg take over world.  Fix it.”
   It was a big speech for the little guy, big enough to make him stop eating while he delivered it.  As soon as he finished, though, he went back to snapping up bird seed.  But his comments sparked an idea in my head.
   World domination. 
   Why not?  I could talk to animals.  With them on my side, how would anyone stop me?  It would have to be a quick, preferably bloodless, coup though.  The element of surprise would be the strongest weapon.
   “Peg,” I said. “You are one smart pigeon.”
   He preened a bit, but didn’t stop eating.
   “You had a good idea.” At that he perked up. “And I’m going to act on it.  I need you to get together as many of your bird friends as you can.  Tell them we’re taking over the world and bring them here.  Tell all the land creatures you see too.  Tell as many as you can in a couple hours and bring ‘em back here.  Will you do it?”
   Peg threw a birdie salute and jumped into the air.  Soon he was lost to view.  I began to lay my plans.
   First, the intel gathering phase.  Word would be passed around, and soon every pet in the world would be gathering information along with the birds.  Who’s gonna be suspicious of their dog as they discuss state secrets?  Who would notice the little birdie sitting outside the open window?  Or the little mouse in the corner?  Or the playful kitten?  No one, that’s who.  It won’t take long to gather information on pretty much everything imaginable in the entire world. 
   Second, integration.  The right animals must be in the right places at the right time.  Mainly Area 51.  I’d need the mind control technology to get full control over the world’s nuclear arsenal.  Serious migration must be initiated into the capitols of the world powers.
   Third, take over.  All together the animals will swarm the world’s strongholds.  It will be completely unexpected.  They won’t have time to defend themselves before the squirrels and bears are armed with AK-47s. 
   It’s brilliant and foolproof.
   Then I felt a tug on my leg.  There was a little bunny rabbit looking up at me.
   “You take over world?” he asked.
   I grinned. “Why yes, I think so.”
   He shook his head. “You no want to.”
   “Why not?”
   “Then you have fix problems.  How you fix economy?  Is mess.”
   “Oh.  I hadn’t thought of that.  Darn it.  Stupid economy.  I don’t want to have to deal with that.”
   Just then, Peg flapped down.
   “Forget about it, Peg,” I said. “The world can go to pot.  I’m not gonna take over and fix all their problems for them.”
   Peg looked disappointed for a second, but then he simply went back to the bird feeder and started eating again.

   To be continued…sometime…

Unicorns

They are not real!  Get over it!  Unicorns are completely mythical creatures.  There is no such thing as a sparkly horse with a horn.  I’m so sorry to burst your bubble, but this is just the way it is.
Oh, and meet Joey.  My unicorn.  Say hi, Joey.
“Hello.”
No, that was hello.  I said say hi. 
“No, I won’t.”
What?  Don’t be rude, Joey.  Say hi.
“I won’t say such a thing.  Why would you want me to?  I’m not high and you know it!”
Joey!  There might be innocent little children reading this blog.  Watch what you say.
“If they’re reading this blog, they won’t be innocent for long.  Besides, there is no such thing as an innocent child these days.”
Of course there are.  I’m sure there are many finely innocent children all around us.  Don’t be such a pessiunicorn. 
“Ha!  That’s the best you could come up with?  Pessiunicorn?”
Well, y’know, it was kinda on the spur of the moment and all.
“Pft, don’t give me that.  You had days to come up with something, and you know it.  And all you can think of is pessiunicorn.  That’s pathetic.”
Oh yeah?  Well I came up with you too!  So I guess that means you’re pathetic.  Ha.
“That’s not nice.  Don’t be mean.”
It’s true.
“I don’t care.  It’s still not nice.  I expected better of you, even if you are a messed up human person.”
What?  So it’s okay for you to insult me but not the other way around?  Can’t take your own medicine?
“No, nothing like that.  But I’m a unicorn.”
Well I’m Batman.
“You are not.”
Prove it.
“You’re scared of bats.”
So is Batman.
“He used to be scared.  Now he’s cool and scares other people with bats.”
Haha!  A unicorn Batman fan.  Now that’s something.
“I never said I was a fan.”
You don’t have to.  It was quite evident in your adoring tone.
“Stop that.  You make the most innocent and awesome things sound bad.”
Too bad for you then, cause you’re stuck with me. 
“Hey, I’m a unicorn.  I don’t have to be stuck with anybody if I don’t want to.”
Oh really?  Last I checked all unicorns do is sparkle and make pretty horse noises.  Nothing special.
“Then I guess you didn’t see the movie where we went around gutting humans with our horns.”
I don’t remember that.  Which one was that?
“I don’t know.  But I’m sure some sick human made one with that and plenty of other stupid stuff.”
Why do you hate humans so much?  Gosh.
“Because you do all sorts of terrible things to us unicorns.”
Like what?
“Like forcing me to submit to being in this blog post!”
Oh that.  Well you called me pathetic, so sucks to be you.
“Huh.  So much for the wonderful power of forgiveness you people are always harping on.”
You never even said sorry!
“Well excuse me if I’m not perfectly schooled in all your pathetic human traditions.”
Wow.  And then you go and do it again.  Y’know, I don’t think I like unicorns very much anymore.
“You created me!  Therefore you just increased your own prejudice through your own prejudice.”
That doesn’t even make sense.  You unicorns are messed up. 
“Agh!  Just stop talking, okay?  Just—stop—talking!”
Fine, if you want it that way…

Poetry

     Did you hear the one about Longfellow?  Oh, you did?  Well that’s good.  I didn’t.  I just said that because, as the title states, this is gonna be about poetry and everyone knows that Longfellow is a famous poet.  He is, isn’t he?  I sure hope he is.  ‘Cause if he isn’t, then all those ideas you probably didn’t have about me being some brilliant type of guy are gonna go down the drain.  And we all know how terrible a thing that would be.
     But I digress.  This is about poetry, right?  That flowing formation of words that makes everything sound either really cool or romantic when recited out loud.  Personally I’m into the really cool sounding stuff.  Y’know, those deep, dark kinda poems that sound ominously awesome when recited by the right guy.  That romance junk is all well and good but it just doesn’t sound as awesome.  And awesomeness is very important.  Of course, if the recipient of one of those romantic poems thinks it’s awesome, I guess that’s good.  But forget it!  This isn’t about those sappy poems.  This is about epic poems with epic content presented in a totally epic manner!
     Unfortunately, I myself have not delved into the world of poetry as of yet.  Something I believe I shall rectify quite shortly.  Because in the past month or so I have found that I enjoy crafting those deep, dark kinda poems.  I have realized that poetry is a great way to channel the emotions.  The trick is being able to find the words to match the moment, and that is what I am working on now.  How?  Why, I shall ask the cow!  Hopefully she will answer with more than a simple “Wow”.  And if all goes south, I’ll just say “Chow”. 
     Please don’t ask me why I’ll say that.  I have no idea.  That’s what happens when I try the whole rhyming thing out.  Deep and dark go out the window, replaced with complete randomness that is only connected by the necessity to rhyme.  The most annoying this about that little spurt I just went on is that none of the words I could readily call to mind ending with “ow” actually sounded like “Ow”.  Mow, tow, row, below, crow, flow, they all sound like “Oh”.  So annoying.  Most things rhyme with other words with the same endings.  Why’d I have to pick one of the ones that doesn’t?  (In case any of you are thinking of answering that, it’s rhetorical)
     So yeah, the rhyming ain’t my style.  I go more for what I hear is called Free Style.  But I am still so uneducated in the world of poetry that I don’t even know if those words are supposed to be capitalized.  Basically I just write down my thoughts in short sentences with lots of new paragraphs.  But only the thoughts that can be recited in a cool way.  The cool recitation is essential.  That how I read all deep and dark poems.  With the special reciting voice that I keep in my head for such occasions.  It makes everything sound so much better. 
     To end this post on poetry, I shall leave you with a poem of my own.  It is quite contrary to the usual content you find here, but I can’t really not post one of my own poems considering the title, subject, and all that junk.  Just be sure to read this with the cool voice inside your head.

     The world is empty
     So many people, so many lives
     So little life
     Grand cities, huge empires
     Empty shells devoid of grandeur
     Immense knowledge, amazing technology
     Petty accomplishments
     People live with no purpose beyond furthering themselves
     They die without even accomplishing that
     How can we live in a world so cold?
     How can we go about our lives knowing the futility?
     Because there is hope
     A light shines
     It brings purpose to life
     Guiding us through a book, it brings deliverance
     The light is known throughout this cold, empty world
     Ignored by many
     Yet it remains, standing as an undeniable truth
     Open to all willing to accept it
     Jesus is the truth, the way, and the light

Real Important Stuff (With Some Thunder)

    Greetings.  This, if for some reason you have not already deduced it, is Owen Tucker.  And I am here, once again, to lay down the facts of my life in this journal thingy.  Trust me, it’s not egotistical at all.  I mean, obviously my life is so very interesting that you should most certainly devote valuable time out your week to read about it.  Just look at all the extremely interesting and very useful information you gain from it.  I find rocks, fight with squirrels, and talk to animals.  Things that are essential to your week, not to mention your possible well being.  And trust me some more, there are definitely not more important things that you could be doing with your time.  Reading about my life is more important than doing some other task you no doubt really have to get done now.  Like updating your facebook status, or maybe your Twitter, or uploading that new Youtube video that you made—for whatever reason.  Those are all unquestionably significant, but this post is so much more essential.  Wouldn’t you agree?
    But I should stop talking about how vital my life is to yours and get on with the telling of my life.  So I will.
    6/7/12:  On this date (that being the 6th of June in the year 2012) I was deeply engrossed in updating my facebook status.  It went something like this,
    “Found out I can talk to animals.  Pretty cool.  Haha lol.”
    The comments I got on that went something like this,
    “Haha, riiiggghhhttt.”
    “Cool man.  Think you could tell the cockroaches to get the heck out of my house?”
    “You should come over!  I really want to know if these squirrels are cussing me out or not?!”
    “You evil person!  I’ll report you for this!  It’s gonna be banned!  I can’t believe it’s still allowed!  Those in authority somewhere are gonna hear about this!  I won’t be silenced!  SAVE THE LITTLE DROWNING LOL MEN!”
    As interesting as that turned out to be, I got bored quickly.  So I decided to go outside.  It was then I found out that it was raining, which I had not heard in my room.  That’s what happens when you have soundproof walls—or really loud music playing.  Either one works, some people just don’t appreciate the latter. 
    As I was now stuck in the house, I had to come up with another method of entertainment.  That’s when a brilliant idea occurred to me.  I got my rock (can’t hear animals without it) and then I grabbed my dog and cat and locked us all in my room.  I sat on my bed, Jack sat on the floor looking at me, and the cat (who’s named Mr. Tinkles by the way) hopped up onto the windowsill and pretended to ignore us.
    Jack looked up at Mr. Tinkles. “Huhu.  Cat stupid.”
    Mr. Tinkles hissed.
    I nodded. “Yup, very stupid.”
    Mr. Tinkles hissed again.
    Jack gave a doggy grin. “Cat no even talk.  Stupid stupid.”
    I continued to nod. “You speak words of great truth and wisdom, Jack.”
    Mr. Tinkles just kept hissing.
    Jack grinned at me, then up at Mr. Tinkles. “He probably no understand us.  Too stupid.”
    I shake my head with a disapproving look on my face. “Now that would be a shame, after all those nice things you said about him.”
    Then a huge peal of thunder struck.  And I mean megally massive.  It was like a freakin’ giant dropped his freakin’ bowling ball on top of our freakin’ house.  Jack and I jumped a bit, but Mr. Tinkles completely flipped out.  He jumped at least a foot off the sill, fell to the floor, scrambled around for a bit like he forgot which way was up, then shot under the bed, screaming his head off the whole time.
    “Oh great King of all cats!” that’s how he started. “Don’t let me die today!  Keep the vicious banging beasts away!  Let them take these two savages as my sacrifice to appease their great wrath!  I offer them up with many tears of sorrow and repentfulness for all the times I failed to bite, scratch, or otherwise abuse them.  Please accept them and spare my strong and productive life!”
    I looked at Jack.  Jack looked at me.  We burst out laughing.  We laughed and laughed and laughed. 
Somehow I managed to get enough breath to say, “I always knew Mr. Tinkles was stupid, but I didn’t think he was a heathen to boot!”  Then I ran out of breath and continued to roll helplessly on the floor.

    To be continued…perhaps…

Road Trip

Ah, road trips.  Don’t you just love ‘em?  Hittin’ the freeway and takin’ a trip into the vastly known unknown.  Boldly going where lots of men have gone before.  Just you, your car, the freeway scenery, and whoever you might have along for the ride.  Because everyone knows road trips are much more interesting with someone along for the ride.  If it’s just you all by your lonesome, it can get pretty boring.  You need that friend (or two or three or four) to come along and talk, crack jokes, sleep, complain about boredom, and all around make you fifty percent more likely to wreck.  What’s life without a little spice, eh?

With friends, and wrecking, and boredom aside, consider all that scenery, if you would.  Beautiful, ain’t it?  The mountains, the woods, the rivers, the big grassy plains with horses and cows and donkeys and critters like that.  Very nice, very nice.  But that ain’t nuthin’ compared to the scenery in places like New Mexico and Arizona.  Those places are simply too gorgeous to put into words.  I mean, there’s like dirt, and bushes.  And that ain’t all.  After you’ve gotten past that, there’s dirt and bushes!  Can you imagine?  And then, oh man, and then, once you’ve past the dirt and bushes and dirt and bushes, there’s dirt and bushes—on hills!  It’s so breathtaking!

Okay, so maybe I recently took a road trip through those places.  Not saying I did, but it’s possible (and that might also be the reason this post is late [for which I do apologize]).  But that in no means was the inspiration for this post.  All the credit for that has to go to the amazing scenery I was just telling you about.  The only downside about that stuff is that it’s so awesome, it lulls you to sleep.  So if you want to fully enjoy the epic landscape, take a few caffeine pills.  If you’re driving, take the pills whether you wanna see the landscape or not. 

Besides that landscape, there are your fellow drivers to be considered.  After driving for over five hours or so, you develop a sort of companionship with those other personages.  Passing each other by, you just have to give thumbs up, or some type of encouraging sign.  Out there in that vast wilderness—ahem, I mean, that wonderful fairyland, you just can’t resist the urge to spread the love.  We’re all brothers and sisters after all, right?  That kinship must be acknowledged lest it be ignored, followed by death and destruction.  Not to mention doom.  So remember, wave at kids in school buses!

But, y’know, all said and done, there’s nuthin’ quite like that feeling you get when you step out of the car at the end of your journey.  That feeling of accomplishment.  Like you took on the world and whooped it.  Unless, of course, when you’re stepping out of your car, it’s because you got a flat tire.  That a whole other feeling entirely.