Hey guys! I, Owen Tucker, am still alive! Pretty amazing, ain’t it? I really thought that Asian dude was gonna do me in. I really wish I had gotten his name before I got rescued though. That would’ve been nice.
But, y’know, I’m not gonna talk long here. I’m sure you all want to get to the journal thingy to find out how that dude cemented my legs and all that good junk. I was kind of wondering about that myself. Then I found out, so I’m not wondering anymore. You’re still in the dark though, aren’t you? Man, that must be rough. Not knowing and all. Gotta be simply terrible. Yup, just awful. Really nasty. Mhm. Yyyyyyyyyup.
Okay fine. Here’s the journal thingy.
7/30/12: On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) I was on my way to visit my castle-house HQ. Which, incidentally, I had decided to name Howard. Yes, that’s right. Howard. Because whenever I was in the house, it just seemed to have so much personality. I can’t really describe it, but it was there. So I named it Howard.
Anyway, it’s about a ten minute walk from my house to Howard, and only about five minutes if I go fast. Wilfred was tagging along with me, and I’m afraid he didn’t really approve of the name Howard and he wasn’t afraid to say so.
“Why’d ya hafta choose somethin’ like Howard? Why coold na find yourself a gud name? One tha reelly goes weth a bang.”
I sighed. This was not the first time he’d brought it up. In fact, it was about the twentieth.
“Because Howard is an awesome name.”
“Ach. Son, ya ‘ave no taste.”
“Is that so? What would you suggest then, oh wise fly?”
“’Ow shoold Ah knoo? Ah’m a fly, na a ‘uman. You lot are sapposed ta be all brilliant an’ all, right? Ya’re always braggin’ aboot it.”
I nodded. “That’s right. We are. And in my brilliance, I saw that Howard was an amazingly epic name that fits the house perfectly. So if you got a problem with it, that’s your problem and your problem alone.”
“Ach. Wha’eva.”
That was his reply for whenever he knew he was beaten. He would never admit that, of course, but I knew it.
With really great timing we finished the argument right as we arrived at Howard.
“Hey, Howard,” I said as I went in the door, partly to annoy Wilfred, but also because I thought Howard appreciated it. The first part was definitely accomplished.
“Why d’ya say tha? Et’s a ‘ouse. Et can na ‘ear. Et can na respund. Et ‘as na feelin’s!”
I shake my finger in the general direction that I hope Wilfred is flying. “Watch it, buddy. Someday you’re gonna regret all the mean things you’ve said about Howard.”
Wilfred sneezed. Well, it might’ve been a snort, but it really sounded like a sneeze.
“Like tha’ll ‘appen.”
I shrug. “Y’never know.”
Last time I was here, before I had gotten kidnapped, I noticed a door on the second floor that led to a staircase. I hadn’t the time to check it out then, so that’s where I was headed this time. It only took a second to get there. I stuck my head through the doorway and looked up the stairs. It was dark, but I could see a light up at the top so I started up. I went up and up and up and up and up and up and up and up and up and up. Then I went up some more. The stairs seemed to never end. Eventually I sat down for a rest. I glanced down the stairs and was surprised to see that the door now looked as far away as the light at the top.
I groaned. “What’s with these stairs?”
I felt Wilfred land on my knee. “Ah doon’t knoo, laddie. But thay sure goo on a loong wey.”
I sighed as I got back to my feet. “I wish they would just end.”
I took a step and blinked in surprise. I was at the top of the stairs standing in the doorway to a small, circular room. The wall was covered in big windows, the majority of which were broken, allowing the sunlight to stream in. The room itself was bare except for one thing. A big ol’ rock was sitting right in the center of the place and this really cool looking—thingy, was stuck in the middle of it.
To be continued…if you dare…
Monday, July 30, 2012
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Liberation!
Owen Tucker here. Journal thingy there.
7/26/12: On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) there was yet another time flux. This time my not-so-friendly Asian friend (whose name I really need to get) had just dragged me into his house using some cool, and extremely painful, judo move thingies. Inside was just what you would expect from the outside. Nice furniture, nice carpet, nice pictures, and all that nice junk. He tossed me into a nice chair.
“Stay,” he said.
“Excuse me?” I replied. “I’m not a dog.”
To show my defiance, I stood to my feet. Or rather, I tried. For some reason it didn’t work out too well. I could move my upper body just fine, but my legs wouldn’t move and nothing I did would propel me upward.
“What’d you do?” I asked.
He grinned and twirled his hand in a weird/fancy move. “Skills.”
I snorted but didn’t say anything.
“Good,” he nodded. “You stay, you quiet, I back soon.”
Then he was gone. A second later I heard his car pull away. I was alone with my thoughts. Which were just a bit bleak, considering the situation. I knew I should’ve listened to my mother. You just can’t trust anyone these days.
I tried to move again, but my legs were still cemented by invisible concrete. I tried yelling, but only succeeded in hurting my throat without anyone responding. Eventually I sighed and leaned back in the chair, which was actually quite comfortable. Who could know what this dude was gonna do when he got back? I was in quite the pickle.
“Mah mah, you’ve gut yourself inta quite tha pickle, ain’t cha?”
I sat up straight. “Wilfred? Is that you?”
“You knoo eny other Scottish flies?”
“No, but I couldn’t very well see you, now could I?”
“Ach. Jest shut et, would ya? We’re bustin’ oot of ‘ere.”
I tried my legs once again. Still stuck.
“Can’t move my legs,” I said, pointing to them.
“Weel theen, et’s a good thing Ah broought along sum friends, eh?”
Wilfred then made what I’m assuming is the fly equivalent of a whistle, which sounded just like a really loud and annoying buzz. There came a crash, the whole house shook, and a couple of big ol’ black bears rumbled into the room.
“Whoa!” I probably would have fallen out of my seat at the sight of them, if I hadn’t been glued to it. “Those are your friends?”
“Aye,” Wilfred replied.
“You have big friends, my friend.”
“Indeed Ah do. Lucky fa you.” He began buzzing around my head, shouting orders. “Ahll right, boys, grab ‘im and let’s blow thes place.”
The bear lumbered over, grabbed my chaired and picked it up with me still stuck in it. Then they made their way back out of the house through the hole they had created where the front door had been. Just as we got outside my captor’s car pulled up and he jumped out.
“Hey!” he yelled. “You stop!”
Wilfred whistled and suddenly the place came alive with squirrels. They came from everywhere. The trees, the bushes, the house, everywhere. And they all jumped the Asian guy, burying him in a pile of fluffy cuteness. He let out a squeak of dismay right before they buried him. As he went under, I found that my legs could move again. I hopped off the chair with a shout.
“All right! Let’s blow this popsicle stand!”
Wilfred let out yet another whistle (which I hoped was his last because they were really annoying) and horse came trotting up the street.
“A horse? Where in the world did you get a horse?”
“You’re surprised at tha ‘orse, but na at tha bears?”
“Good point.” I jumped onto the horse, and was surprised to find that I actually made it. “Let’s go!”
The horse whinnied something like, “oh great,” tossed its head (and almost me too), and galloped away into the sunset!
Well, nothing as epic as that. But the point was that we escaped, leaving my kidnapper to the mercies of the squirrels.
To be continued…oh boy!...
7/26/12: On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) there was yet another time flux. This time my not-so-friendly Asian friend (whose name I really need to get) had just dragged me into his house using some cool, and extremely painful, judo move thingies. Inside was just what you would expect from the outside. Nice furniture, nice carpet, nice pictures, and all that nice junk. He tossed me into a nice chair.
“Stay,” he said.
“Excuse me?” I replied. “I’m not a dog.”
To show my defiance, I stood to my feet. Or rather, I tried. For some reason it didn’t work out too well. I could move my upper body just fine, but my legs wouldn’t move and nothing I did would propel me upward.
“What’d you do?” I asked.
He grinned and twirled his hand in a weird/fancy move. “Skills.”
I snorted but didn’t say anything.
“Good,” he nodded. “You stay, you quiet, I back soon.”
Then he was gone. A second later I heard his car pull away. I was alone with my thoughts. Which were just a bit bleak, considering the situation. I knew I should’ve listened to my mother. You just can’t trust anyone these days.
I tried to move again, but my legs were still cemented by invisible concrete. I tried yelling, but only succeeded in hurting my throat without anyone responding. Eventually I sighed and leaned back in the chair, which was actually quite comfortable. Who could know what this dude was gonna do when he got back? I was in quite the pickle.
“Mah mah, you’ve gut yourself inta quite tha pickle, ain’t cha?”
I sat up straight. “Wilfred? Is that you?”
“You knoo eny other Scottish flies?”
“No, but I couldn’t very well see you, now could I?”
“Ach. Jest shut et, would ya? We’re bustin’ oot of ‘ere.”
I tried my legs once again. Still stuck.
“Can’t move my legs,” I said, pointing to them.
“Weel theen, et’s a good thing Ah broought along sum friends, eh?”
Wilfred then made what I’m assuming is the fly equivalent of a whistle, which sounded just like a really loud and annoying buzz. There came a crash, the whole house shook, and a couple of big ol’ black bears rumbled into the room.
“Whoa!” I probably would have fallen out of my seat at the sight of them, if I hadn’t been glued to it. “Those are your friends?”
“Aye,” Wilfred replied.
“You have big friends, my friend.”
“Indeed Ah do. Lucky fa you.” He began buzzing around my head, shouting orders. “Ahll right, boys, grab ‘im and let’s blow thes place.”
The bear lumbered over, grabbed my chaired and picked it up with me still stuck in it. Then they made their way back out of the house through the hole they had created where the front door had been. Just as we got outside my captor’s car pulled up and he jumped out.
“Hey!” he yelled. “You stop!”
Wilfred whistled and suddenly the place came alive with squirrels. They came from everywhere. The trees, the bushes, the house, everywhere. And they all jumped the Asian guy, burying him in a pile of fluffy cuteness. He let out a squeak of dismay right before they buried him. As he went under, I found that my legs could move again. I hopped off the chair with a shout.
“All right! Let’s blow this popsicle stand!”
Wilfred let out yet another whistle (which I hoped was his last because they were really annoying) and horse came trotting up the street.
“A horse? Where in the world did you get a horse?”
“You’re surprised at tha ‘orse, but na at tha bears?”
“Good point.” I jumped onto the horse, and was surprised to find that I actually made it. “Let’s go!”
The horse whinnied something like, “oh great,” tossed its head (and almost me too), and galloped away into the sunset!
Well, nothing as epic as that. But the point was that we escaped, leaving my kidnapper to the mercies of the squirrels.
To be continued…oh boy!...
Monday, July 23, 2012
Another House (Not as Cool as Mine)
I’m back, guys! Owen Tucker is in the house. Or on the screen. Or however you want to say it.
Now I’m sure you all want to get right down to the journal thingy, but first I gotta add something. Some of you may be wondering how I’ve been carrying my special rock thing around with me. I know I am. And so I’m most apologetic that I failed to mention the fact that I got it made into a necklace so I wouldn’t have to carry it around. Like one of those metal bead ones that they use for dog tags and stuff. It’s very handy dandy now.
Anyway, just thought I’d mention that. Now back to our regularly scheduled program.
7/23/12: On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) there was again a weird time flux which froze me between posts. Very annoying for me, very convenient for you. As it happens though, that left me with my Asian friend going—somewhere. This week, though, my vision came back, so I could see where we were going. Turns out we were in quite a nice neighborhood and were heading to a very nice looking house. It was one of those kind of small houses with nice stonework and ivy growing all over it, making it look older than it really was.
“Nice house,” I said.
“Thank you,” he replied.
“Ach,” Wilfred interjected. “Doon’t you say a word. Ah’ll be bach weth soom help soon.”
This time, amazingly, I was able to restrain myself from saying the reply that was on my lips. I smiled to myself. I was improving. Wilfred would be proud. If he wasn’t already gone. Which he probably was.
By this time my companion and I had reached the front door. He opened it and gestured for me to go in. I smiled and was about to go in, but then a thought occurred to me. What the heck was I even doing here in the first place? This guy had wanted to go to my castle-house HQ. What were we doing here? Being ever one to speak my mind, I did so.
Stopping before the door, I held up my hand. “Hang on a sec. Why are we here?”
My Asian friend (I really need to get his name) looked confused. “What problem?” He smiled and gestured inside. “My house.”
“And I’m sure it’s a lovely joint,” I replied. “But I don’t even know your name, and my parents have always told me to never speak with strangers.”
Now he looked even more confused. “But, you talk all this time?”
I nodded. “Right. So you should have told me your name right off the bat. Then we wouldn’t have been strangers. We would have been acquaintances. As it is, we are still strangers, and my parents are very strict about not going into strangers houses, especially if candy is offered as a stimulant.”
He shook his head most vehemently. “I no offer candy.”
“Which means one of three things. Either you are a person very bad at child kidnapping—because I always go for the candy—, a person who is trying to very hard not to look like a child kidnapper while really being one, or just a really nice gentleman who happened upon a random young man and took him for a ride in your fancy car back to your house for no apparent reason.”
He nodded. “Yes. Last one.”
I thought about that for a second. “Well, you know, that doesn’t reassure me very much.”
He shrugged. “Come inside. We talk.”
I frowned and shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
He nodded. “Yes. Inside.”
I shook my head. “No. Outside.”
He nodded. “Yes. Inside.”
I shook my head harder. “No! Outside. Home!”
He huffed. “Fine. You be difficult. Leave me no choice.”
With a spin move added for style, he grabbed my arm, did this really cool twisty thing, that actually really hurt, and dragged me inside.
Dun dun dun!...to be continued!...
Now I’m sure you all want to get right down to the journal thingy, but first I gotta add something. Some of you may be wondering how I’ve been carrying my special rock thing around with me. I know I am. And so I’m most apologetic that I failed to mention the fact that I got it made into a necklace so I wouldn’t have to carry it around. Like one of those metal bead ones that they use for dog tags and stuff. It’s very handy dandy now.
Anyway, just thought I’d mention that. Now back to our regularly scheduled program.
7/23/12: On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) there was again a weird time flux which froze me between posts. Very annoying for me, very convenient for you. As it happens though, that left me with my Asian friend going—somewhere. This week, though, my vision came back, so I could see where we were going. Turns out we were in quite a nice neighborhood and were heading to a very nice looking house. It was one of those kind of small houses with nice stonework and ivy growing all over it, making it look older than it really was.
“Nice house,” I said.
“Thank you,” he replied.
“Ach,” Wilfred interjected. “Doon’t you say a word. Ah’ll be bach weth soom help soon.”
This time, amazingly, I was able to restrain myself from saying the reply that was on my lips. I smiled to myself. I was improving. Wilfred would be proud. If he wasn’t already gone. Which he probably was.
By this time my companion and I had reached the front door. He opened it and gestured for me to go in. I smiled and was about to go in, but then a thought occurred to me. What the heck was I even doing here in the first place? This guy had wanted to go to my castle-house HQ. What were we doing here? Being ever one to speak my mind, I did so.
Stopping before the door, I held up my hand. “Hang on a sec. Why are we here?”
My Asian friend (I really need to get his name) looked confused. “What problem?” He smiled and gestured inside. “My house.”
“And I’m sure it’s a lovely joint,” I replied. “But I don’t even know your name, and my parents have always told me to never speak with strangers.”
Now he looked even more confused. “But, you talk all this time?”
I nodded. “Right. So you should have told me your name right off the bat. Then we wouldn’t have been strangers. We would have been acquaintances. As it is, we are still strangers, and my parents are very strict about not going into strangers houses, especially if candy is offered as a stimulant.”
He shook his head most vehemently. “I no offer candy.”
“Which means one of three things. Either you are a person very bad at child kidnapping—because I always go for the candy—, a person who is trying to very hard not to look like a child kidnapper while really being one, or just a really nice gentleman who happened upon a random young man and took him for a ride in your fancy car back to your house for no apparent reason.”
He nodded. “Yes. Last one.”
I thought about that for a second. “Well, you know, that doesn’t reassure me very much.”
He shrugged. “Come inside. We talk.”
I frowned and shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.”
He nodded. “Yes. Inside.”
I shook my head. “No. Outside.”
He nodded. “Yes. Inside.”
I shook my head harder. “No! Outside. Home!”
He huffed. “Fine. You be difficult. Leave me no choice.”
With a spin move added for style, he grabbed my arm, did this really cool twisty thing, that actually really hurt, and dragged me inside.
Dun dun dun!...to be continued!...
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Notification
Hello readers.
This is just to inform you of a change in schedule. That being the fact that Owen Tucker will be giving you his journal entries twice a week now, both on Monday and Thursday, until further notification (in other words, I don't know when). And this because Mr. Tucker is getting himself into quite the adventure which I had not anticipated, but is turning out to be most exciting. On that note you also might want to check back to the post, The House, as it had a bit of editing done. That would be in the sixth paragraph.
Thank you all for your time, and I hope you enjoy what is to come.
This is just to inform you of a change in schedule. That being the fact that Owen Tucker will be giving you his journal entries twice a week now, both on Monday and Thursday, until further notification (in other words, I don't know when). And this because Mr. Tucker is getting himself into quite the adventure which I had not anticipated, but is turning out to be most exciting. On that note you also might want to check back to the post, The House, as it had a bit of editing done. That would be in the sixth paragraph.
Thank you all for your time, and I hope you enjoy what is to come.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Journey
Hey guys! Owen Tucker is back. And I do believe that last week I left you guys with something of a cliff hanger. Just a wee bitty one. But big enough that I’m dispensing with this part here and getting right down to the journal thingy!
7/19/12: On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) I had just gotten into this Asian dude’s car and…wait a second. That happened last week. Uh. Lemme think here. Oh whatever. I think there was kind of time freeze for a whole week in my time, so I stayed in the same spot, same time while a whole week went by for you reader people.
Okay, so, with that out of the way, back to the story.
As soon as I got seated in the car, the Asian dude slammed the gas and shot forward.
“Whoa!” I yelled. “Hold up, man.”
He smashed the brakes just as hard as he had the gas and I nearly got a concussion from the dashboard.
“How can I possibly direct you if you’re going a million miles an hour?” I asked.
He thought for a second, then shrugged. “Real fast?”
I shook my head. “No. You go real slow, and then I can tell you where to go.”
He thought about this for another second, then shook his head. “No got time.”
He hit the gas again and we flew forward, disregarded stop signs, stop lights, and basically the fact that there were other drivers on the road. In fact, I’m pretty sure that we got hit a few times. We were just going so fast that we didn’t feel the effects.
After about five minutes of that, we came to another abrupt halt, and I think I did get a concussion that time.
The dude jumped out, came over to my side, and opened the door. “Come.”
The world was spinning, but somehow I managed to get out of my seat belt and stumbled out of the car. Unfortunately my vision had gone all black and blotchy on me, so I couldn’t tell where we had arrived at. My chauffeur took my arm and led me along to—somewhere.
“Where the heck are we?” I asked after I failed yet another attempt to look around.
“You soon see,” my guide replied.
“Not if my eyes keep going like this,” I mumbled.
“Pst! Boyo!” came a voice with a Scottish accent.
I looked around. “Who dat?”
“What you talking about?” Asian man asked.
I shrugged. “No idea. Everythin’s a bit blurry for me right now. All your fault, by the way. Crazy driver…”
There was a few seconds of silence.
“Hey. Et’s me. Wilfred de Wasper. An’ for goodness sake, doon’t reply oot loud.”
I, however, never follow orders. “Well how else I’m I supposed to reply? Last I checked flies aren’t flippin’ telepaths.”
We stopped moving. I think my companion was staring at me, but I couldn’t be sure because a nice big, black blotch had decided to sit right where his face was supposed to be at that moment.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No, I’m not,” I replied, just a bit peeved. “You fairly cracked my skull open on that last dead stop you pulled, so I am most certainly not okay.”
He tapped me on the head. “That better?”
I was about to come back with my usual smart retort, when, surprisingly, my vision cleared.
“Uh,” was all I could come up with.
The Asian dude, whose face I could now see, smiled. “Good.”
“Ah swear, ef you reply ta this oot loud, Ah’ll bite ya.”
I couldn't help myself. It was just the automatic reaction.
“You’re a fly,” I replied out loud. “Flies don’t bite.”
Something bit me. I’ve been known to be wrong before.
Now the Asian guy, whose name I should really learn if only so that I can call him by something other than his nationality, was staring at me really strangely.
“Who you talking to?” he asked.
“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh…” Best stalling tactic ever. “Myself. I do love a good conversation with myself. Don’t you?”
He shook his head slowly, the strange look never leaving his face. “Nnnooo.” He paused for a second. “I prefer talking to myself. Ahahahahahahahahaha!”
I gave a few half-hearted chuckles so that he wouldn’t feel bad and waited for him to stop laughing. It took a bit, apparently he was one of those who thinks himself to be a great comedian, but eventually he stopped.
“Okay,” he said, as he wiped away a few tears. “Now we go.”
“Where are we going?”
“You see.”
I hate that answer.
To be continued…next week!...
7/19/12: On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) I had just gotten into this Asian dude’s car and…wait a second. That happened last week. Uh. Lemme think here. Oh whatever. I think there was kind of time freeze for a whole week in my time, so I stayed in the same spot, same time while a whole week went by for you reader people.
Okay, so, with that out of the way, back to the story.
As soon as I got seated in the car, the Asian dude slammed the gas and shot forward.
“Whoa!” I yelled. “Hold up, man.”
He smashed the brakes just as hard as he had the gas and I nearly got a concussion from the dashboard.
“How can I possibly direct you if you’re going a million miles an hour?” I asked.
He thought for a second, then shrugged. “Real fast?”
I shook my head. “No. You go real slow, and then I can tell you where to go.”
He thought about this for another second, then shook his head. “No got time.”
He hit the gas again and we flew forward, disregarded stop signs, stop lights, and basically the fact that there were other drivers on the road. In fact, I’m pretty sure that we got hit a few times. We were just going so fast that we didn’t feel the effects.
After about five minutes of that, we came to another abrupt halt, and I think I did get a concussion that time.
The dude jumped out, came over to my side, and opened the door. “Come.”
The world was spinning, but somehow I managed to get out of my seat belt and stumbled out of the car. Unfortunately my vision had gone all black and blotchy on me, so I couldn’t tell where we had arrived at. My chauffeur took my arm and led me along to—somewhere.
“Where the heck are we?” I asked after I failed yet another attempt to look around.
“You soon see,” my guide replied.
“Not if my eyes keep going like this,” I mumbled.
“Pst! Boyo!” came a voice with a Scottish accent.
I looked around. “Who dat?”
“What you talking about?” Asian man asked.
I shrugged. “No idea. Everythin’s a bit blurry for me right now. All your fault, by the way. Crazy driver…”
There was a few seconds of silence.
“Hey. Et’s me. Wilfred de Wasper. An’ for goodness sake, doon’t reply oot loud.”
I, however, never follow orders. “Well how else I’m I supposed to reply? Last I checked flies aren’t flippin’ telepaths.”
We stopped moving. I think my companion was staring at me, but I couldn’t be sure because a nice big, black blotch had decided to sit right where his face was supposed to be at that moment.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No, I’m not,” I replied, just a bit peeved. “You fairly cracked my skull open on that last dead stop you pulled, so I am most certainly not okay.”
He tapped me on the head. “That better?”
I was about to come back with my usual smart retort, when, surprisingly, my vision cleared.
“Uh,” was all I could come up with.
The Asian dude, whose face I could now see, smiled. “Good.”
“Ah swear, ef you reply ta this oot loud, Ah’ll bite ya.”
I couldn't help myself. It was just the automatic reaction.
“You’re a fly,” I replied out loud. “Flies don’t bite.”
Something bit me. I’ve been known to be wrong before.
Now the Asian guy, whose name I should really learn if only so that I can call him by something other than his nationality, was staring at me really strangely.
“Who you talking to?” he asked.
“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhh…” Best stalling tactic ever. “Myself. I do love a good conversation with myself. Don’t you?”
He shook his head slowly, the strange look never leaving his face. “Nnnooo.” He paused for a second. “I prefer talking to myself. Ahahahahahahahahaha!”
I gave a few half-hearted chuckles so that he wouldn’t feel bad and waited for him to stop laughing. It took a bit, apparently he was one of those who thinks himself to be a great comedian, but eventually he stopped.
“Okay,” he said, as he wiped away a few tears. “Now we go.”
“Where are we going?”
“You see.”
I hate that answer.
To be continued…next week!...
Monday, July 16, 2012
Thursday 'n Friday
Aw yeah! Who else is incredibly excited and pumped for the super awesome thing that’s coming this Thursday? Kewl beans! Me too! And do you know what that is? Well, yeah, there’s Owen Tucker’s adventure, but do you know what other super awesome thing is coming this Thursday? You don’t!? Okay then, I’ll give you some clues. It involves a dude who has this thing for bats (the animal, not the stick), he has a butler named Alfred, and he’s a billionaire. Still can’t guess? Ugh. Fine then. I’ll just tell you.
It’s Batman!
Ooooorah! It’s gonna be epic. Batman’s gonna run around, blowing stuff up and smashing people around. Then he’s gonna get the crap beaten out of him, then he’s gonna beat the crap out of other people, then they’re gonna beat him up even worse, and there’s gonna be all that junk about him being the hero Gotham deserves but not the hero it needs, and then he’s gonna be all like “Because I’m Batman!” and it’s gonna be totally wicked!
Oh, and in case you’re now thinking “Wait, it doesn’t come out till Friday” all I have to say is, midnight showing! IMAX. Mhm, that’s how I roll. Gonna see this thing end in style. It’ll go kablewy and I’ll be like “ooooo”. It’ll go kablam and I’ll be like “aaaaahhhh”. And then when Batman DIES I’ll be like “OHSOB!” This thing is gonna be so epically awesome they’re barely gonna be able to fit it into two and a half hours.
And then, not as awesome but still pretty awesome, there’s gonna be some English country dancing going on Friday night. We gonna be swirlin’ and whirlin’ with the best of ‘em. I’m gonna be all decked out in my florescent orange shorts and a shirt to match. If nothing else it’ll be kinda hard to miss me and completely impossible to ignore me. Oughta be interesting at the least. Maybe they’ll play that song “Somebody That I Used to Know”. Haha! That’d be awesome. I’ve recently gotten addicted to that song and as a result the rest of my family hates it. I don’t really know why. I mean, all I do is sing the thing in my fine tenor voice at all times of the days. It’s like they’re getting a free concert or something, yet all they can say is “shut up!” or rather, the equivalent, just nicer. Because we all love each other so much in this family. It’s just a never ending lovefest.
Oh wow. I just realized how much I used “gonna” in the above paragraphs. About fifty million times. I should probably be more careful with my usage of that word. Don’t worry though, I gonna be.
Well now you’re all nice and up-to-date on what’s going on in my life. Don’t you feel better for it? I know I do. The end of this week is going to be amazing. And I hope that you, my good reader, have just as good of one.
It’s Batman!
Ooooorah! It’s gonna be epic. Batman’s gonna run around, blowing stuff up and smashing people around. Then he’s gonna get the crap beaten out of him, then he’s gonna beat the crap out of other people, then they’re gonna beat him up even worse, and there’s gonna be all that junk about him being the hero Gotham deserves but not the hero it needs, and then he’s gonna be all like “Because I’m Batman!” and it’s gonna be totally wicked!
Oh, and in case you’re now thinking “Wait, it doesn’t come out till Friday” all I have to say is, midnight showing! IMAX. Mhm, that’s how I roll. Gonna see this thing end in style. It’ll go kablewy and I’ll be like “ooooo”. It’ll go kablam and I’ll be like “aaaaahhhh”. And then when Batman DIES I’ll be like “OHSOB!” This thing is gonna be so epically awesome they’re barely gonna be able to fit it into two and a half hours.
And then, not as awesome but still pretty awesome, there’s gonna be some English country dancing going on Friday night. We gonna be swirlin’ and whirlin’ with the best of ‘em. I’m gonna be all decked out in my florescent orange shorts and a shirt to match. If nothing else it’ll be kinda hard to miss me and completely impossible to ignore me. Oughta be interesting at the least. Maybe they’ll play that song “Somebody That I Used to Know”. Haha! That’d be awesome. I’ve recently gotten addicted to that song and as a result the rest of my family hates it. I don’t really know why. I mean, all I do is sing the thing in my fine tenor voice at all times of the days. It’s like they’re getting a free concert or something, yet all they can say is “shut up!” or rather, the equivalent, just nicer. Because we all love each other so much in this family. It’s just a never ending lovefest.
Oh wow. I just realized how much I used “gonna” in the above paragraphs. About fifty million times. I should probably be more careful with my usage of that word. Don’t worry though, I gonna be.
Well now you’re all nice and up-to-date on what’s going on in my life. Don’t you feel better for it? I know I do. The end of this week is going to be amazing. And I hope that you, my good reader, have just as good of one.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
10903 Belton
Hey guys, I’m back. And if you don’t know who “I” am by now, well it’s rather pointless to tell you. So guess what? This time, I’m not going to tell you. I know, shocking, isn’t it? Me, Owen Tucker, not telling you…oh…oops…
Uh, in light of this most embarrassing moment, let us go straight to the journal thingy, eh?
7/12/12: On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) I was hanging out in my front yard doing the usual. Y’know, talking with the bugs and stuff. I had just convinced one group of ants to go to war with another group of ants at the other end of the yard and was now sitting back to enjoy the show. Wilfred had just gotten back from whatever it was that he was doing last time and he was buzzing around yelling at me and the ants. However both parties ignored him.
Now watching ants travel from one end of a yard to the other is a very tedious process, so I can’t say that I was annoyed in any way when a black, rather dusty car pulled up in front of my house and distracted me. The front window of the car rolled down, revealing the driver to be a little Asian man with a moustache and graying hair.
“Excuse me,” he said, motioning for me to come over, his Asian accent evident in even that small sentence.
“Yeah?” I asked as I approached, a bit cautiously considering he was a stranger and all.
He waved a piece of paper at me. “Could you tell me how get here?”
I glanced at the piece of paper. 10904 Belton. I thought for a second, then frowned. The address seemed familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Hang on a sec,” I said. “I’m gonna do a quick search.”
He nodded and smiled, so I pulled out my iPhone and put in the address. When the search finished, my suspicions were confirmed. It was indeed the address of my castle-house HQ! What could this guy want with it?
The guy spoke up. “You find?”
“Hm?” I look up from my phone. “Oh, uh, yeah. But it’s pretty far from here, and the route is pretty complicated.”
He nodded and grinned. “You explain to me, please?”
I shrugged. “Okay then. First, you’re going to take a right up ahead there, onto Majestic. Once you’ve done that, you’ll stay on that road for about five miles, at which point you’ll need to take a left onto Harrison. That road will take you for about a mile until it turns into Old Cain. You’re going to turn right onto Old Cain, and then directly after that there’s gonna be another right which will take you to Westminster. You’ll keep going on that road for, say, ten minutes, when you’re going to take a left onto 1660, which you will then follow until you come to Josh Camlin. Once you’re on Josh, you’re gonna need to take the first left, then the third right, then the second right, then the fourth left, then the first left, and finally the fifth right and 10904 Belton is gonna be the sixth house on the left.”
After about the first two streets the man was looking very confused. By the time I finished, he had a completely blank look on his face.
“Ah.” He looked like he was thinking pretty hard. Then he threw up his hands. “I no find it.” He gestured to the back of his car. “You get in? Show me how to get there?”
I laughed, somewhat skeptically. “You want me to get into your car? To show you this place?”
He nodded.
“How would I get back?”
“I bring you. Once you show me, I remember.”
I glanced at the car. The dusty exterior was deceiving; it was actually a pretty sweet looking car.
I gave in. “Oh okay. But I’ll only go if you let me ride shotgun.”
He grinned. “Good!” With a click he unlocked the doors. “Come come.”
I shrugged and walked around and hopped in. What is life without some spice? The ants would have to negotiate their own peace treaty.
To be continued…most definitely, I wouldn’t leave you hanging like that, for long anyway…
Uh, in light of this most embarrassing moment, let us go straight to the journal thingy, eh?
7/12/12: On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) I was hanging out in my front yard doing the usual. Y’know, talking with the bugs and stuff. I had just convinced one group of ants to go to war with another group of ants at the other end of the yard and was now sitting back to enjoy the show. Wilfred had just gotten back from whatever it was that he was doing last time and he was buzzing around yelling at me and the ants. However both parties ignored him.
Now watching ants travel from one end of a yard to the other is a very tedious process, so I can’t say that I was annoyed in any way when a black, rather dusty car pulled up in front of my house and distracted me. The front window of the car rolled down, revealing the driver to be a little Asian man with a moustache and graying hair.
“Excuse me,” he said, motioning for me to come over, his Asian accent evident in even that small sentence.
“Yeah?” I asked as I approached, a bit cautiously considering he was a stranger and all.
He waved a piece of paper at me. “Could you tell me how get here?”
I glanced at the piece of paper. 10904 Belton. I thought for a second, then frowned. The address seemed familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Hang on a sec,” I said. “I’m gonna do a quick search.”
He nodded and smiled, so I pulled out my iPhone and put in the address. When the search finished, my suspicions were confirmed. It was indeed the address of my castle-house HQ! What could this guy want with it?
The guy spoke up. “You find?”
“Hm?” I look up from my phone. “Oh, uh, yeah. But it’s pretty far from here, and the route is pretty complicated.”
He nodded and grinned. “You explain to me, please?”
I shrugged. “Okay then. First, you’re going to take a right up ahead there, onto Majestic. Once you’ve done that, you’ll stay on that road for about five miles, at which point you’ll need to take a left onto Harrison. That road will take you for about a mile until it turns into Old Cain. You’re going to turn right onto Old Cain, and then directly after that there’s gonna be another right which will take you to Westminster. You’ll keep going on that road for, say, ten minutes, when you’re going to take a left onto 1660, which you will then follow until you come to Josh Camlin. Once you’re on Josh, you’re gonna need to take the first left, then the third right, then the second right, then the fourth left, then the first left, and finally the fifth right and 10904 Belton is gonna be the sixth house on the left.”
After about the first two streets the man was looking very confused. By the time I finished, he had a completely blank look on his face.
“Ah.” He looked like he was thinking pretty hard. Then he threw up his hands. “I no find it.” He gestured to the back of his car. “You get in? Show me how to get there?”
I laughed, somewhat skeptically. “You want me to get into your car? To show you this place?”
He nodded.
“How would I get back?”
“I bring you. Once you show me, I remember.”
I glanced at the car. The dusty exterior was deceiving; it was actually a pretty sweet looking car.
I gave in. “Oh okay. But I’ll only go if you let me ride shotgun.”
He grinned. “Good!” With a click he unlocked the doors. “Come come.”
I shrugged and walked around and hopped in. What is life without some spice? The ants would have to negotiate their own peace treaty.
To be continued…most definitely, I wouldn’t leave you hanging like that, for long anyway…
Monday, July 9, 2012
Blurp
So there was this group of people, and this random topic, and then this one writer dude. But that one writer dude just can’t seem to get together with the random topic in order to entertain the group of people. He tries and tries, but that darn topic just doesn’t seem to want to cooperate, which would no doubt cause the group of people a great deal of sadness.
This, obviously, is NOT an analogy of my writing process for you on Mondays. In no way is that anything like it. I, of course, have absolutely no trouble writing up these blurps of randomness. Hehe, cool, new word. Blurp. I should copy write that before someone steals it. Ahem, anyway. These little blurps (hehe) just come up to me during the week, tap me on the shoulder, and practically write themselves out. All I have to do is hit the keys on the board. Quite simple and very easy. Isn’t it awesome? I’ll bet you thought that first paragraph was what I actually did. Eheh…
Anyhows, blurpiness. It’s kinda like a blurp, except nessly. And if you don’t know what that means, man, you’re hopeless. If you don’t know, you should probably stop reading now because I’m just going to continue discussing how dismal your future is looking. And it’s pretty dismal. Like, really super dismal. It’s bad, let me just leave it at that. Or really really bad, that works too. World apocalypse style bad. But don’t listen to me. Listen to the colleges (if you’re a teenager) that are trying to get you to attend them. If you go there, you’re future will be bright and sunny, you’ll have lots of friends, and the whole world will be your doorstep! Or not. It could be like one big rainstorm on your dreams! If you listen to me that is.
Oh, I seem to have gotten a little sidetracked. What was I talking about again? Oh yes, blurps! Blurps are awesome. So is blurpiness. If you’re full of blurpiness, you are one awesome person. If you’re studying blurptology, you are going to go far in this life. In fact, if you have blurps in any part of your life, you’re just plain cool. Because blurps are beyond awesome, now that I think about it. They’re just so brilliantly amazing. Pretty soon, the word “awesome” will become obsolete. People will go around saying stuff like “Dude! That’s so blurp!”, “That movie was blurply epic”, and “You are the most blurp person ever!” just because they can (and because blurp is amazing). So spread the blurp. It’s worth it.
Huh? What does blurp mean? Didn’t I tell you that already? Oh…I didn’t? Snap…guess I should’ve done that first. Well, uh, blurp means, erm, blurp! It’s got blurpiness written all over it. It’s like one of those words where you don’t really know what it means, but you know exactly how it should be used, y’know? Which just makes it all the better.
Blurp forever!
This, obviously, is NOT an analogy of my writing process for you on Mondays. In no way is that anything like it. I, of course, have absolutely no trouble writing up these blurps of randomness. Hehe, cool, new word. Blurp. I should copy write that before someone steals it. Ahem, anyway. These little blurps (hehe) just come up to me during the week, tap me on the shoulder, and practically write themselves out. All I have to do is hit the keys on the board. Quite simple and very easy. Isn’t it awesome? I’ll bet you thought that first paragraph was what I actually did. Eheh…
Anyhows, blurpiness. It’s kinda like a blurp, except nessly. And if you don’t know what that means, man, you’re hopeless. If you don’t know, you should probably stop reading now because I’m just going to continue discussing how dismal your future is looking. And it’s pretty dismal. Like, really super dismal. It’s bad, let me just leave it at that. Or really really bad, that works too. World apocalypse style bad. But don’t listen to me. Listen to the colleges (if you’re a teenager) that are trying to get you to attend them. If you go there, you’re future will be bright and sunny, you’ll have lots of friends, and the whole world will be your doorstep! Or not. It could be like one big rainstorm on your dreams! If you listen to me that is.
Oh, I seem to have gotten a little sidetracked. What was I talking about again? Oh yes, blurps! Blurps are awesome. So is blurpiness. If you’re full of blurpiness, you are one awesome person. If you’re studying blurptology, you are going to go far in this life. In fact, if you have blurps in any part of your life, you’re just plain cool. Because blurps are beyond awesome, now that I think about it. They’re just so brilliantly amazing. Pretty soon, the word “awesome” will become obsolete. People will go around saying stuff like “Dude! That’s so blurp!”, “That movie was blurply epic”, and “You are the most blurp person ever!” just because they can (and because blurp is amazing). So spread the blurp. It’s worth it.
Huh? What does blurp mean? Didn’t I tell you that already? Oh…I didn’t? Snap…guess I should’ve done that first. Well, uh, blurp means, erm, blurp! It’s got blurpiness written all over it. It’s like one of those words where you don’t really know what it means, but you know exactly how it should be used, y’know? Which just makes it all the better.
Blurp forever!
Thursday, July 5, 2012
The House
Yo. I, the one called Owen Tucker, have returned. Because it’s Thursday, and I’m always here on Thursday. Don’t believe, check back. Just, not too far. I wasn’t always here, now that I think about it. There was this other guy, named Fred, who was here on Thursdays for a while. But he wasn’t near as awesome as I am. I mean, just look at our names. Fred. Owen Tucker. I think we can all see who’s got this (and that’s me, in case you can’t see).
Yesterday was the 4th of July, if you didn’t know. We had fireworks and explosions and boomy thingies. Wilfred nearly got shot, slapped, and all around killed several times. With his accent he sounds real funny when he gets mad. But he also gets a bit colorful, so I can’t give you an example of what he says.
Anyway, journal thingy time!
7/5/2012: On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) Wilfred was off someplace recovering from his ordeal, leaving me alone to amuse myself. I was bored. Out of desperation I shot of a few remaining firecrackers. Then I stared at the remainders. And stared at ‘em. And stared at ‘em some more. It was really quite fascinating. If you want to be bored. Which, unfortunately for me, I didn’t. So I had to find something else to do.
Like the ever resourceful guy I am, I decided to take a walk. I walked down one street, and up another street. There was a twig on one of these streets, but I ignored it. The last one I picked up was nothing but a dud, so there was no way I was falling for that again. Now a special type of woodchip, that might’ve been able to get my attention, but I didn’t see any of those.
I walked down a few more streets, but I was in the boring part of the neighborhood where everything looked the same because, well, everything was the same. One of those modern neighborhoods where pretty much every house looks just like the other one. So I found me a street to turn down that would take me to a more classical neighborhood. A more stylish place. With grown trees, nice lawns, and flowers and stuff like that there.
As I was walking through this cool new neighborhood, I spotted one of those long, winding, gravel driveways. Y’know, the ones that go so far back you can’t even see the house. Now I didn’t really feel like deviating from my path, so I just keep walking. But then this squirrel darted out of nowhere and started hopping down the driveway. That in itself wasn’t really unusual and didn’t capture any interest, until the little bugger started squeaking some real insulting things. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s being insulted by a squirrel, so I chased it down the driveway. The little bugger was speedy though. It kept ahead of me for at least ten minutes. On and on till I had left all the other houses in the neighborhood in the far distance. Then I turned a corner and came to the end of the driveway and the squirrel disappeared.
There, right in front of me, was a big ol’ castle-looking house. I gaped at it a while, taking in the stone walls, medieval architecture and all that good junk, then I also noticed there were no cars, and the place was all overgrown with weeds. I went up to the front door and knocked. There was no answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. A bit hesitantly, I turned the door handle. It opened with a creak, but besides that, quite easily. Inside it was mainly empty, just a few pieces of really old looking furniture and a lot of dust.
“Hello?” I called out.
There was no answer.
I grinned. I had just found me an abandoned castle-house HQ!
To be continued…hopefully…
(From MichaeL Lostritto: My apologies for the lateness of this post. I will try to keep it from happening again)
Yesterday was the 4th of July, if you didn’t know. We had fireworks and explosions and boomy thingies. Wilfred nearly got shot, slapped, and all around killed several times. With his accent he sounds real funny when he gets mad. But he also gets a bit colorful, so I can’t give you an example of what he says.
Anyway, journal thingy time!
7/5/2012: On this date (that being the 7th of July in the year 2012) Wilfred was off someplace recovering from his ordeal, leaving me alone to amuse myself. I was bored. Out of desperation I shot of a few remaining firecrackers. Then I stared at the remainders. And stared at ‘em. And stared at ‘em some more. It was really quite fascinating. If you want to be bored. Which, unfortunately for me, I didn’t. So I had to find something else to do.
Like the ever resourceful guy I am, I decided to take a walk. I walked down one street, and up another street. There was a twig on one of these streets, but I ignored it. The last one I picked up was nothing but a dud, so there was no way I was falling for that again. Now a special type of woodchip, that might’ve been able to get my attention, but I didn’t see any of those.
I walked down a few more streets, but I was in the boring part of the neighborhood where everything looked the same because, well, everything was the same. One of those modern neighborhoods where pretty much every house looks just like the other one. So I found me a street to turn down that would take me to a more classical neighborhood. A more stylish place. With grown trees, nice lawns, and flowers and stuff like that there.
As I was walking through this cool new neighborhood, I spotted one of those long, winding, gravel driveways. Y’know, the ones that go so far back you can’t even see the house. Now I didn’t really feel like deviating from my path, so I just keep walking. But then this squirrel darted out of nowhere and started hopping down the driveway. That in itself wasn’t really unusual and didn’t capture any interest, until the little bugger started squeaking some real insulting things. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s being insulted by a squirrel, so I chased it down the driveway. The little bugger was speedy though. It kept ahead of me for at least ten minutes. On and on till I had left all the other houses in the neighborhood in the far distance. Then I turned a corner and came to the end of the driveway and the squirrel disappeared.
There, right in front of me, was a big ol’ castle-looking house. I gaped at it a while, taking in the stone walls, medieval architecture and all that good junk, then I also noticed there were no cars, and the place was all overgrown with weeds. I went up to the front door and knocked. There was no answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. A bit hesitantly, I turned the door handle. It opened with a creak, but besides that, quite easily. Inside it was mainly empty, just a few pieces of really old looking furniture and a lot of dust.
“Hello?” I called out.
There was no answer.
I grinned. I had just found me an abandoned castle-house HQ!
To be continued…hopefully…
(From MichaeL Lostritto: My apologies for the lateness of this post. I will try to keep it from happening again)
Monday, July 2, 2012
Hitler
Whoa! Cool! Did you know that in 1999 some weird scientist dudes cloned Hitler’s bones and created an army of bone Hitlers? Who knew, right? The government did this huge cover-up and nobody was ever the wiser. Till now of course. Now I’m telling you, so you know, and you can tell your friends, so they know, then they can tell their friends so those people know, and it just goes on until the whole world knows. Then everyone will be out Hitler hunting. They might even make it a national holiday that develops into a worldwide event that eventually becomes the biggest holiday of the year! It’ll spawn a mass of video games, movies, books, even children toys. Hitler’s bones will become way better known then he ever was throughout his entire life.
Okay, so you’re probably wondering where that whole thing in the above paragraph came from. Well, I couldn’t tell you if you asked. My thought process went something like this.
“Hhhhmmm…1999…clones…Hitler…bones…cool.”
So yeah, that’s how my mind works. I should actually read up on Hitler so that I can more effectively make fun of him. It’s so much fun. I do love a good Hitler/Nazi joke. One time I went around the house clicking my heels together and shouting “Hi Hitler!” Don’t think my parents appreciated that. But it was fun while it lasted.
Hm. Maybe my current interest in Hitler comes from the nearing of July 4th. At the approach of that great day of independence, my mind, being the way it is, thinks of Hitler. It’s a blessing, and a curse. My mind that is.
Getting back to Hitler, I hear that in the end, he killed himself. But, of course, you know that’s not what really happened, right? It’s common knowledge that the aliens abducted him, made sure he was completely crazy, then sent him as a gift to their biggest enemy. Which resulted in a huge alien war, the repercussions we are experiencing through the refugees (Obama, Lady Gaga, those kind of people). So if them darned aliens would just keep their business to themselves, we wouldn’t have all these problems. Geez.
Before the aliens got him though, Hitler was known to create a genetically altered race of Nazis that he sent out to infiltrate the American society. They came among us under the guise of immigrants and ingrained themselves into our culture. Now they lurk behind every corner, hide under every rock. They observe everything that’s anything on the internet, and everything else besides that too. They watch your mail, read your strike signs, check your checks. And if they find anything, they scream bloody murder and fix it, even if you don’t ask them to. In fact, probably because you don’t ask them to. Then they yell at you and tell you to watch yourself or they’ll come for you again. Generally at some point during the discourse they also make very sure that you know exactly who they are. Who might that be?
They are the Grammar Nazis.
Okay, so you’re probably wondering where that whole thing in the above paragraph came from. Well, I couldn’t tell you if you asked. My thought process went something like this.
“Hhhhmmm…1999…clones…Hitler…bones…cool.”
So yeah, that’s how my mind works. I should actually read up on Hitler so that I can more effectively make fun of him. It’s so much fun. I do love a good Hitler/Nazi joke. One time I went around the house clicking my heels together and shouting “Hi Hitler!” Don’t think my parents appreciated that. But it was fun while it lasted.
Hm. Maybe my current interest in Hitler comes from the nearing of July 4th. At the approach of that great day of independence, my mind, being the way it is, thinks of Hitler. It’s a blessing, and a curse. My mind that is.
Getting back to Hitler, I hear that in the end, he killed himself. But, of course, you know that’s not what really happened, right? It’s common knowledge that the aliens abducted him, made sure he was completely crazy, then sent him as a gift to their biggest enemy. Which resulted in a huge alien war, the repercussions we are experiencing through the refugees (Obama, Lady Gaga, those kind of people). So if them darned aliens would just keep their business to themselves, we wouldn’t have all these problems. Geez.
Before the aliens got him though, Hitler was known to create a genetically altered race of Nazis that he sent out to infiltrate the American society. They came among us under the guise of immigrants and ingrained themselves into our culture. Now they lurk behind every corner, hide under every rock. They observe everything that’s anything on the internet, and everything else besides that too. They watch your mail, read your strike signs, check your checks. And if they find anything, they scream bloody murder and fix it, even if you don’t ask them to. In fact, probably because you don’t ask them to. Then they yell at you and tell you to watch yourself or they’ll come for you again. Generally at some point during the discourse they also make very sure that you know exactly who they are. Who might that be?
They are the Grammar Nazis.
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