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…

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!

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)

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.

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…