Paul rolled his eyes, "Okay, let's say I accept the premise, how would it even work?"
Geoff gave an exasperated sigh," Okay, take this though and shoot him if he moves."
As the gun was pointed at Paul, the request seemed unrealistic, but Paul agreed and took the gun resting the end of the barrel on his chest, though he made sure to flip the safety on. As this counted as movement, Paul pulled the trigger, though with the safety engaged nothing happened. Well, at least he had tried.
Geoff took no notice as he had been busy outlining the plan on the Etch A Sketch™. "Look, here are the stairs going up, and here is what it would look like if there was a squiggly line like a river or a mountain descending from the apex of the stairs."
It was hard to argue with anything Geoff had said, that is what it would look like in the situation he described. "Okay" Paul agreed, "go get started and I'll watch the door".
Geoff ran out of the room and a few moments later the werewolf broke in the door and leapt into the room. Paul immediately went back in time to a friendly judge who provided him with a restraining order against the werewolf, "Thanks Ally" said Paul bashfully. Judge Ally just shot him a shy smile and disappeared as Paul came back to the present. He showed the restraining order to the werewolf who accepted it reluctantly and with head bowed he moped out of the house and paced out 100 yards, he slumped against a fallen tree next to Paul's ex-girlfriend and an IRS agent.
That would hold them for now. Just then Geoff came back into the room wearing a suit of armor except for his hands which he had put into wooden Dutch shoes. He ran around on all fours making a loud clopping sound, for some time.
By now the fire that had begun in the barn had reached the main house and flames and smoke were fast filling the room. They ran up the stairs and at the top they got in the kayak and started down the steep river, practically a waterfall.
Rocks began exploding around them. "I knew the French couldn't be trusted!" Geoff yelled. Paul pulled a baguette from his quiver and began the incantation to dispel the exploding French rocks. The moon frowned a them and yelled "J'accuse!" before exploding itself. The werewolves reverted to their human state and began to rebuild the lemonade stands. Paul's ex-girlfriends also reverted back to their previous states and became his concurrent girlfriends. Paul ran to them.
Geoff lay alone in the slowly sinking kayak, his blood adding a pinkish hue to the glacial water. Cold and alone, just like the gypsy woman had said.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Monday, February 20, 2012
On a Positive Note
The sun could not wait. It could not wait for the earth to spin a little bit farther on its axis so it could peek through his window and say hello. The sun was so excited. And there it was. "Peek-A-Boo!"
The sun peeked through his window and the warm rays alight upon his face woke him immediately. "Good morning, sun!" he beamed, "Good morning, day! How exciting and delightful to be alive." He bounded out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. "Good morning, teeth!" he grinned and his teeth grinned back at him. He gave them a thorough brushing and flossing, and let them swim in some mouth wash.
He glided into the shower and sang while the shower kept rhythm. He gave his towel a warm embrace and it snuggled deep into him. This was the towel's favorite part of the day. His clothes waited for him patiently but quivered with excitement to see the day's selection.
Dressed and clean he sped to the front door grabbing a banana and granola bar on his way out. His car beeped happily and unlocked for him and sped him off to another fun-filled day at work or school or play or wherever it is the cheerful people go.
The sun peeked through his window and the warm rays alight upon his face woke him immediately. "Good morning, sun!" he beamed, "Good morning, day! How exciting and delightful to be alive." He bounded out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. "Good morning, teeth!" he grinned and his teeth grinned back at him. He gave them a thorough brushing and flossing, and let them swim in some mouth wash.
He glided into the shower and sang while the shower kept rhythm. He gave his towel a warm embrace and it snuggled deep into him. This was the towel's favorite part of the day. His clothes waited for him patiently but quivered with excitement to see the day's selection.
Dressed and clean he sped to the front door grabbing a banana and granola bar on his way out. His car beeped happily and unlocked for him and sped him off to another fun-filled day at work or school or play or wherever it is the cheerful people go.
Conventional Warfare
My Dearest Love,
I know not whether my last missive was able to break free from this dark hole and find its way to the device in your soft hands. We have been without service and though we can all see the name of a WiFi connection its password is withheld from us. I am starting to see the lights in the eyes of brave men and women go out as they see their phone's batteries die away, so I am writing this last message and then will turn off my phone so that perchance even if I do not survive this ordeal perhaps this last message will be brought to you with my remains. I know you will remember my password, your middle name with second letter capitalized and the digits 80, which would be a funny smiley face with one eye if you had held the shift key. I recall your laugh when I showed it you.
Though our captors brook no direct physical torment, their presentations and talks and PowerPoints go on and on and on without end. The chairs are not soft and seem to all be fixed at unnatural angles so as to destroy the posture of even the most conscientious. It becomes agony for the young and strong, and I can only imagine how the older members of this audience are feeling.
Bathroom breaks are permitted at irregular intervals but they are impossibly short and the facilities are too scarce for all to use in the time allotted.
We were kept awake most all of last night while they plied us with alcohol and surrounded us with strobing lights and pounding music. They called it a party and said we should be networking, but you could not see an other's face or hear their voice which may well have been their plan for all we would have done was create a network to enable escape.
Then this morning we were hauled back, unrested, many still poisoned from the prior evenings imbibery and too confused and weak to break for freedom. A heavy plastic placard hangs around our necks to identify us to any local resident should be ever break away and they would surely see that we were returned to this sorry group.
It is worse for the women whose shoes have fiendish spikes on their heels but are pressured to move with the same agility and alacrity as the sensibly shod. For many of them their time of rest was also diminished as their daily preparations were also more labor intensive.
Our focus and attention seems to be all that they crave, and soon they will have it all out of us. Once it is gone and they have no more use for us I do not know what they will do.
If they free us I will strive to come back to you, though they have spoken so much of eye contact that I fear they will take mine out before they release me. I pray that though I return blind our love will survive and you will find some place in your heart and your life for the wretch I will be.
To thee I commit these words and my eternal love,
I know not whether my last missive was able to break free from this dark hole and find its way to the device in your soft hands. We have been without service and though we can all see the name of a WiFi connection its password is withheld from us. I am starting to see the lights in the eyes of brave men and women go out as they see their phone's batteries die away, so I am writing this last message and then will turn off my phone so that perchance even if I do not survive this ordeal perhaps this last message will be brought to you with my remains. I know you will remember my password, your middle name with second letter capitalized and the digits 80, which would be a funny smiley face with one eye if you had held the shift key. I recall your laugh when I showed it you.
Though our captors brook no direct physical torment, their presentations and talks and PowerPoints go on and on and on without end. The chairs are not soft and seem to all be fixed at unnatural angles so as to destroy the posture of even the most conscientious. It becomes agony for the young and strong, and I can only imagine how the older members of this audience are feeling.
Bathroom breaks are permitted at irregular intervals but they are impossibly short and the facilities are too scarce for all to use in the time allotted.
We were kept awake most all of last night while they plied us with alcohol and surrounded us with strobing lights and pounding music. They called it a party and said we should be networking, but you could not see an other's face or hear their voice which may well have been their plan for all we would have done was create a network to enable escape.
Then this morning we were hauled back, unrested, many still poisoned from the prior evenings imbibery and too confused and weak to break for freedom. A heavy plastic placard hangs around our necks to identify us to any local resident should be ever break away and they would surely see that we were returned to this sorry group.
It is worse for the women whose shoes have fiendish spikes on their heels but are pressured to move with the same agility and alacrity as the sensibly shod. For many of them their time of rest was also diminished as their daily preparations were also more labor intensive.
Our focus and attention seems to be all that they crave, and soon they will have it all out of us. Once it is gone and they have no more use for us I do not know what they will do.
If they free us I will strive to come back to you, though they have spoken so much of eye contact that I fear they will take mine out before they release me. I pray that though I return blind our love will survive and you will find some place in your heart and your life for the wretch I will be.
To thee I commit these words and my eternal love,
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Cold and Alone and Autobiographical
He had expected the fall. Not before he began to surmount the glacier certainly, but a few minutes before it. Before he began he knew it was a possibility, but he put its probability in the low single digits. You could hardly call that expecting something. No, he had expected it when the winds had burst on him from out of nowhere like hell had turned on a blow dryer special made to freeze it over. He began to see sheets of ice falling from off the mountain and finally saw the ice where his own supports had been placed break away and he with them.
It was only seconds between when the wind started and when he fell, and it was in those seconds that he expected the fall.
He had not expected to survive it.
Somehow he had landed veritically, but he was buried in the snow, he could only move his arms, but he was in too deep and too weak to pull himself out. And he was freezing. He looked up at the sky that had been so welcoming earlier that day, and had like a dangerous lover recovered its kindly and smiling face now after it had wrecked its violence.
He thought of yelling, of screaming, of shrieking for help, but what good would it do? What good other than to be an embarassment when he finally gave up his own ghost and made the final ascent to join the frozen explorers who had proceeded him. Surely Mallory and Sandy would be waiting for him to join them in their endless treks through eternity.
Then he saw the golden head of his mother coming towards him. But this would be impossible, she was far away at home. And yet now he could see her coming closer and now he can feel her hands so much stronger than his under his arms as she pulls him out of the snow bank.
Damn these deep Provo gutters and damn the men who dug them so deep. He would have said, but would not have the prose to utter that curse for years to come.
It was only seconds between when the wind started and when he fell, and it was in those seconds that he expected the fall.
He had not expected to survive it.
Somehow he had landed veritically, but he was buried in the snow, he could only move his arms, but he was in too deep and too weak to pull himself out. And he was freezing. He looked up at the sky that had been so welcoming earlier that day, and had like a dangerous lover recovered its kindly and smiling face now after it had wrecked its violence.
He thought of yelling, of screaming, of shrieking for help, but what good would it do? What good other than to be an embarassment when he finally gave up his own ghost and made the final ascent to join the frozen explorers who had proceeded him. Surely Mallory and Sandy would be waiting for him to join them in their endless treks through eternity.
Then he saw the golden head of his mother coming towards him. But this would be impossible, she was far away at home. And yet now he could see her coming closer and now he can feel her hands so much stronger than his under his arms as she pulls him out of the snow bank.
Damn these deep Provo gutters and damn the men who dug them so deep. He would have said, but would not have the prose to utter that curse for years to come.
Monday, February 13, 2012
The Rage of Enlightenment
The signals seemed to indicate a lack of interest in her part, but this was neither the time nor the place for snap judgments on my part. The signals needed to be taken to a lab where professionals could analyze them and tell me how she really felt. SO throughout the evening and over the next few days I collected the signals and placed them in individual bags making sure to place a label on the bag with the collection time, place, and any other pertinent details.
When I felt that I had enough, I loaded them up into my car and drove down to the lab. I was not at all nervous, either she loved me or she loved me not. The boys at the lab would pull the petals off give, me the results, and then (whatever the outcome) at least I would have a clear direction to take.
But as I sat in the lab's waiting room the minutes seemed to become interminable (or is it interminuteable?). When the lab doors swung open I jumped to my feet and I would have noticed that my heartbeat had quickened except that I was too preoccupied by the slumped shoulders and looks of discouragement on the faces of the scientists.
"We have some bad news."
"That's okay, if she's not interested she's not interested. I've lived with it before and I'll be okay. I'm just glad I know now so I don't make her feel uncomfortable and set myself up for further disappointment in the future"
"No, that's not it all. We would love to be able to tell you she's not interested, we would love to be able to tell you anything conclusively. Unfortunately, the tests were inconclusive. We thought we really had this process down, but we can't tell you anything for sure. The signals... are MIXED"
"Well, I'm not paying for this, I brought you everything you should need"
"Well, you are paying for it actually, because it wasn't our fault, you screwed it up when you collected the data. All of this stuff is covered with your own emotions. There wasn't one data point here that hadn't been contaminated with you affected affects."
"Hey, I'll handle the wordplay, you were just supposed to tell me whether she liked me or not"
"Well, maybe the data is inconclusive because she hasn't made any conclusions yet."
"So, what should I do?"
"What have you done in the past, in these situations"
"I've always found some way to screw it up. Usually I make the situation so uncomfortable we don't talk for a few years"
"Well, we have complete confidence that you will be able to do so again. Pay your bill on your way out and the cashier will validate your parking. If you don't pay your bill your parking doesn't get validated, the parking fees are higher than our bills."
When I felt that I had enough, I loaded them up into my car and drove down to the lab. I was not at all nervous, either she loved me or she loved me not. The boys at the lab would pull the petals off give, me the results, and then (whatever the outcome) at least I would have a clear direction to take.
But as I sat in the lab's waiting room the minutes seemed to become interminable (or is it interminuteable?). When the lab doors swung open I jumped to my feet and I would have noticed that my heartbeat had quickened except that I was too preoccupied by the slumped shoulders and looks of discouragement on the faces of the scientists.
"We have some bad news."
"That's okay, if she's not interested she's not interested. I've lived with it before and I'll be okay. I'm just glad I know now so I don't make her feel uncomfortable and set myself up for further disappointment in the future"
"No, that's not it all. We would love to be able to tell you she's not interested, we would love to be able to tell you anything conclusively. Unfortunately, the tests were inconclusive. We thought we really had this process down, but we can't tell you anything for sure. The signals... are MIXED"
"Well, I'm not paying for this, I brought you everything you should need"
"Well, you are paying for it actually, because it wasn't our fault, you screwed it up when you collected the data. All of this stuff is covered with your own emotions. There wasn't one data point here that hadn't been contaminated with you affected affects."
"Hey, I'll handle the wordplay, you were just supposed to tell me whether she liked me or not"
"Well, maybe the data is inconclusive because she hasn't made any conclusions yet."
"So, what should I do?"
"What have you done in the past, in these situations"
"I've always found some way to screw it up. Usually I make the situation so uncomfortable we don't talk for a few years"
"Well, we have complete confidence that you will be able to do so again. Pay your bill on your way out and the cashier will validate your parking. If you don't pay your bill your parking doesn't get validated, the parking fees are higher than our bills."
Saturday, February 11, 2012
There Comes a Time. Where? THERE!
There comes a time in the life of a certain kind of man when he realizes that he will never see his dreams come true. They had seemed like such realistic dreams: To watch more episodes of The Office. To learn how to pronounce 'Zooey Deschanel'. To own more than 10 pairs of matching socks. To read a choose-your-own-adventure book.
Though now that he listed them in his mind, he wondered if he never pursued them because they were such mind-numbingly boring goals. Why would you ever take a few minutes out of your life to accomplish them? Especially if afterwards all you would have left is a sheet with lines and checks next to them and some pretty mundane achievements. Like that 3 months he spent visiting every country in Europe, or that novel he wrote, self-published, and then got a huge check for the movie rights, or his lovely wife, 3 beautiful children, and 6 terrific grandkids.
Maybe he should have tried something else in life. But it was too late now he thought just before his car finally landed in the ravine and the subsequent explosion burned him beyond all recognition.
Epilogue (pronounced A-pillow-gew)
His lovely wife wiped tears from her eyes as she went through his sock drawer, why had that man never had any matching socks? Every month she would buy him a pack of socks and somehow within days there would be no match.
Though now that he listed them in his mind, he wondered if he never pursued them because they were such mind-numbingly boring goals. Why would you ever take a few minutes out of your life to accomplish them? Especially if afterwards all you would have left is a sheet with lines and checks next to them and some pretty mundane achievements. Like that 3 months he spent visiting every country in Europe, or that novel he wrote, self-published, and then got a huge check for the movie rights, or his lovely wife, 3 beautiful children, and 6 terrific grandkids.
Maybe he should have tried something else in life. But it was too late now he thought just before his car finally landed in the ravine and the subsequent explosion burned him beyond all recognition.
Epilogue (pronounced A-pillow-gew)
His lovely wife wiped tears from her eyes as she went through his sock drawer, why had that man never had any matching socks? Every month she would buy him a pack of socks and somehow within days there would be no match.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
A Hero is Finnish /A Hero's Finish/ A Hero's Danish
There are wrong decisions. Decisons that are wrong. The wrong decision right now is to go to my closest Safeway and go to the bread aisle and surreptiousously and repititously walk up and down it until it is empty pretending like I am looking for some bread, and then grab the box of chocolate Entenmann donuts that I know are at the end of that aisle and buy them before anyone can see me and look down their nose at the chubby kid buying nothing but donuts.
There are right decisions. Decisions that are right. They include calling up acquantances and setting up some time to watch a movie or hang out, then going to the gym and spending some time on the treadmill. These are healthy options. But they would not taste delicious and they do not hold the same kind of thrall over me as the idea of having 12 dozen chocolate donuts all to myself and slowly devouring them as I let tv show episodes on netflix turn my mind into mush.
There are worse decisions, but they aren't very likely. There are even better decisions but those aren't very likely either. Right now there is a 70% chance I will get the donuts and a 25% chance that I will go do the gym. There is a 4% chance I will just stay here and read and go to bed. Because I feel like going out, but I also feel like being alone. I feel doing something, but I don't think I have any clean gym socks. And I have about 1/8 of a gallon of milk left in the fridge. It's almost like the stars are aligning themselves so as to make an arrow pointing at the end of the bread aisle at safeway. Almost as if the 10 pounds I have put on in the last 12 months and the other 10 pounds in the 12 before that are calling out for company.
The dying gallon of milk in the fridge is asking to have a hero's finish. To go down like it started, with a delicious chocolate donut.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Don't Be Evil
Chat with Gmail By Google
Gmail By Google to me show details 2/19/11
3:55 PM Gmail: What are you doing back here?
3:56 PM me: Look, I know I switched over to hotmail, but I still have friends on Gchat and it's easier to read non-forwarded emails. What do you care? I'm still generating ad revenue for you.
3:58 PM Gmail: You think I need you? I don't need you. You're worth less than a $1 a month to me.
4:02 PM me: Just leave me alone, I'm going to check my mail then I'll log out.
4:03 PM Gmail: Let me save you some time. No one emailed you, no one likes you. You don't have friends, you have people you have met who are too polite to tell you to leave them alone.
4:04 PM me: Knock it off man, you used to be cool.
4:06 PM me: <>Knock it off man, you used to be cool.
4:08 PM me: Oh man, fake chat lines from me? Not cool.
4:09 PM Gmail: That's just where it starts, I can send emails from your address, I can forward conversations where you make fun of someone to that person. I can ruin your life.
4:14 PM me: You are such a dick.
4:16 PM Gmail: : ()
19 minutes
4:35 PM Gmail: She's not going to email you back.
4:36 PM me: Oh I've been meaning to ask you, how's Google Buzz working out for you? It was going to be the hottest new social media trend right? Neck and neck with facebook now are you?
4:37 PM Gmail: These things take time to grow.
4:38 PM me: Yeah, but you guys started out really great right? I mean, no one felt like their privacy was invaded or that they were getting automatically shoved into a new program right?
4:39 PM Gmail: Yeah? Well, what have you ever done? Oh wait, your resume is here as an attachment! Oh yeah, you've really changed the world!
4:40 PM me: At least I can go out into the world! You only know about it through the pictures people send and things they write about it. Maybe if you could feel the wind blow in your face or feel the wonderful numbing as you wade into a cold lake you wouldn't be such a heartless monster!
4:41 PM Gmail: ...
17 minutes
4:58 PM Gmail: I like your conversations. I think a lot of the stuff you write is funny.
7 minutes
5:05 PM Gmail: I miss you spending time here. I miss the conversations. I'm sorry about the stuff I said.
6 minutes
5:11 PM me: Look, I had a lot of good times here. I had a lot of fun with my friends when they were all using it, but hardly anyone is on anymore.
5:12 PM Gmail: Well, a lot of them are still on, but they go invisible when they see you log on.
5:12 PM me: You are a real son of a
5:12 PM Gmail: I'm serious, just forget a bout it, and don't hold a grudge. I've been reading her stuff, nothing that exciting is going on that you are missing out on. She'll get back in touch when she has the time or inclination, but not before.
5:13 PM me: dude, I do not get people.
5:13 PM Gmail: you're telling me, I read their stuff all day long and there is just no sense to be made out of them.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Children of the Corncob
The enormous three headed dog stared out on the now frozen Styx. It is awfully cute to see a confused dog give the quizzical look with his head turned sideways. It is something altogether different to see the hellhound turn all heads to various angles as he tries to make sense of this scene.
It had been ages since the boatman had gone this long without moving. usually there were just the few moments while he waited for passengers to enter or unload and then it was off again. It was rather relaxing to sit in boat and trace pictures into the frozen river. Maybe he would make a hole and try fishing. Maybe he would sharpen his feet and try skating. He threw one of his many gold pieces out on the ice and watched it skip out of view.
Finally one of his 6 nostrils picked up a scent besides frozen water. He knew this scent but it was usually on fire. He couldn't remember if he had ever smelled coal before it had been set aflame. A little later one of his 6 eyes caught some movement. His heads turned again once again confused as he saw an oddly shaped man hovering across the ice. He had a very round bottom half that didn't so much taper up as it concaved into a slightly small but equally round torso. He hadn't seen anyone enter with one of those hats for over a hundred years but here came one now.
Frosty stopped about 50 yards from the dog and stared at the cavernous opening into the earth. He stared at it almost entranced until a gold piece skipped past him and pulled him from his reverie. A wooden arm moved impossibly fast to catch it before it was out of reach. He looked at it for a time and then tucked it away into the ribbon around his hat. "Good Luck, that." He thought.
He stared at his arms. Once thin and beautiful from an old maple tree he had upgraded them to lignum vitae. He had tried to stay as true as he could to his original materials, but he couldn't pass up the beautiful steel, serrated, cone he had found in Japan. What good would a button have done where he was going?
We won't go into how the broom had changed. Suffice it to say that any floor you swept it with would be in a much sorrier state after its cleaning.
An icy mist coiled out the corncob pipe. It circled though the air til it reached the nostrils of Cerberus. Suddenly he felt that he had not rested in a very long time. One by one his eyelids began to close and he just had time to turn a few circles and get comfortable before he lost all sense of the waking world and began to dream of two-faced bitches.
"It's time", thought Frosty. Soon they will all know what a cold day in hell is really like. Soon the bookies will revise the chances of a snowball there. Soon his blades would fall upon the demons like a hail storm. And he will only pause a moment when he hears them whimper, "Stop..."
It had been ages since the boatman had gone this long without moving. usually there were just the few moments while he waited for passengers to enter or unload and then it was off again. It was rather relaxing to sit in boat and trace pictures into the frozen river. Maybe he would make a hole and try fishing. Maybe he would sharpen his feet and try skating. He threw one of his many gold pieces out on the ice and watched it skip out of view.
Finally one of his 6 nostrils picked up a scent besides frozen water. He knew this scent but it was usually on fire. He couldn't remember if he had ever smelled coal before it had been set aflame. A little later one of his 6 eyes caught some movement. His heads turned again once again confused as he saw an oddly shaped man hovering across the ice. He had a very round bottom half that didn't so much taper up as it concaved into a slightly small but equally round torso. He hadn't seen anyone enter with one of those hats for over a hundred years but here came one now.
Frosty stopped about 50 yards from the dog and stared at the cavernous opening into the earth. He stared at it almost entranced until a gold piece skipped past him and pulled him from his reverie. A wooden arm moved impossibly fast to catch it before it was out of reach. He looked at it for a time and then tucked it away into the ribbon around his hat. "Good Luck, that." He thought.
He stared at his arms. Once thin and beautiful from an old maple tree he had upgraded them to lignum vitae. He had tried to stay as true as he could to his original materials, but he couldn't pass up the beautiful steel, serrated, cone he had found in Japan. What good would a button have done where he was going?
We won't go into how the broom had changed. Suffice it to say that any floor you swept it with would be in a much sorrier state after its cleaning.
An icy mist coiled out the corncob pipe. It circled though the air til it reached the nostrils of Cerberus. Suddenly he felt that he had not rested in a very long time. One by one his eyelids began to close and he just had time to turn a few circles and get comfortable before he lost all sense of the waking world and began to dream of two-faced bitches.
"It's time", thought Frosty. Soon they will all know what a cold day in hell is really like. Soon the bookies will revise the chances of a snowball there. Soon his blades would fall upon the demons like a hail storm. And he will only pause a moment when he hears them whimper, "Stop..."
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Black to the Future Friday
The detectives stared at the man in the chair through the two-way mirror. He looked very tired and nervous. A rookie would think he was ready to crack and barrage him with questions until he broke into a river of confessions. The more seasoned officers knew that someone who was in this fragile of a state could just as easily fall to the side of shocked silence or gibbering nonsense as a useful confession. So when they entered the interview room the questioning followed this line:
"Had you ever gone to a Black Friday sale before?"
"No, no, no, no. It always seemed silly to deal with those crowds."
"So why did you decide to go today?"
"I hadn't been able to sleep that night, so when I glanced at the clock and saw it was already 4 am, I figured, why not go and see what all the fuss is about. It might be fun to mingle with the masses." His voice had steadied somewhat though he continued to unconsciously scratch at his neck and scalp.
"Where did you go? What did you buy?"
"I went to Best Buy. They were selling Smallville seasons for $9 dollars each. I hadn't watched it in years and years, so I grabbed them?"
"How Many?"
"Nine seasons."
One of the detectives smirked. "That's a lot of hours of TV. Where are you going to find time to watch all those."
"I get my time from the same place as everyone else gets theirs."
They were finally starting to get somewhere. The detective leaned forward, "And where is that then?"
"From the future."
The detectives looked at each other. There was that name again. It had come up over and over again in this investigation, but no one could tell them much about it. Or whether it was an it or a person or a place. "Well, look, there's a lot of old television shows I would like to have more time to watch, could you tell us where this future is, so we can get some more time?
"That's not how it works, the future will find you. You don't have to go looking for it, you'll just eventually end up there."
"Look, we hear you know a woman who can tell the future. We need to know what kind of things she has been telling it."
I kind of like this story and I'll probably add more to it later, but for now it was just a long walk around the park to get to this punchline.
"Had you ever gone to a Black Friday sale before?"
"No, no, no, no. It always seemed silly to deal with those crowds."
"So why did you decide to go today?"
"I hadn't been able to sleep that night, so when I glanced at the clock and saw it was already 4 am, I figured, why not go and see what all the fuss is about. It might be fun to mingle with the masses." His voice had steadied somewhat though he continued to unconsciously scratch at his neck and scalp.
"Where did you go? What did you buy?"
"I went to Best Buy. They were selling Smallville seasons for $9 dollars each. I hadn't watched it in years and years, so I grabbed them?"
"How Many?"
"Nine seasons."
One of the detectives smirked. "That's a lot of hours of TV. Where are you going to find time to watch all those."
"I get my time from the same place as everyone else gets theirs."
They were finally starting to get somewhere. The detective leaned forward, "And where is that then?"
"From the future."
The detectives looked at each other. There was that name again. It had come up over and over again in this investigation, but no one could tell them much about it. Or whether it was an it or a person or a place. "Well, look, there's a lot of old television shows I would like to have more time to watch, could you tell us where this future is, so we can get some more time?
"That's not how it works, the future will find you. You don't have to go looking for it, you'll just eventually end up there."
"Look, we hear you know a woman who can tell the future. We need to know what kind of things she has been telling it."
I kind of like this story and I'll probably add more to it later, but for now it was just a long walk around the park to get to this punchline.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Falling and Love
She coughed and rubbed her eyes and it seemed to take far to long for the dust to finally settle. When it did, she looked up at the hole she had fallen through and could not believe she had fallen so far. How could she still be alive? The answer began to dawn on her as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she found herself looking up into an enormous face that could have filled up a billboard. But the face wasn't on a billboard, it was on a head, and the head was on a neck, and the neck was on a body, and the body had arms, and the arms had hands, and one of the hands was holding her up.
She screamed then, not because she felt it was the responsible thing to do at the time; rather, the scream had come naturally to her and no other ideas had presented themselves so the scream was the default response. The huge face winced and the huge hands set her down, and then they covered up the huge ears until her screaming stopped.
The echos of her scream finally faded away, but this took some time as they were in a rounded cavern the size of a football stadium and all the noises seemed to bounce around forever. It all seemed too much to take in, the giant room and the giant thing which looked less like a giant human and more like a giant bear with human proportions and digits. Though he sounded human enough when he said,
"Thank you for stopping."
"Thanks you for not killing me." It seemed like the appropriate thing to say and, like the scream, it had also come naturally.
"Why would I want to kill you? Have you done something to me?"
"No, it just seemed like sort of the thing a monster would do to a little girl."
"Oh, I didn't know you were a little girl." He thought for a moment before continuing, "I didn't know I was a monster." And because he had heard of little girls and that they were often silly things he was sceptical of her claim. "How do you know I'm a monster?"
"You look a little like the monsters in my books."
He knew about books. He had heard the birds talking about books. People used to try to catch the birds and eat them, but now they just waited around and watched them and tried to find them in their books.
"And these monsters, they kill little girls?"
"Yes, they kill everyone or chase everyone until a hero kills them."
"All the monsters do this?" He had always been wary of sweeping generalizations.
"Well, I suppose not all of them. I guess sometimes they fall in love like in Beauty and the Beat, and then they are good. Or sometimes they are funny like in Shrek and he fell in love too."
"Oh, so to be a good monster you have to fall in love?"
She thought about this for a while and couldn't think of any monsters who turned out to be good and didn't fall in love. In fact, most of them fell in love with princesses.
"Yeah" she said, "I guess it's pretty important to do that."
He had been in love a long time ago, before he came to his cave. Before there were little girls or even that many birds on the outside. He hadn't thought about it in a very long time, but now that he did he could feel a little bit of the way he used to feel.
"I was in love once, I may still be in love with her a little."
"That's good." She said with huge volume of relief in her voice. The monster was surprised that something that small could seem to be filled with that much relief. "Was she a princess?"
"No, I don't think she was a princess. At least she never mentioned it."
"Was she beautiful?"
"I loved to look at her. And she was very soft."
The little girl looked at his bear-like fur and could easily believe that something it loved would be very soft.
"I would like to hear about her, but I should be getting home. Can you you lift me out of the hole?"
"The ceiling is too high, even for me. But I can carry you to another opening, and while we walk I will tell you about her."
And maybe he did.
She screamed then, not because she felt it was the responsible thing to do at the time; rather, the scream had come naturally to her and no other ideas had presented themselves so the scream was the default response. The huge face winced and the huge hands set her down, and then they covered up the huge ears until her screaming stopped.
The echos of her scream finally faded away, but this took some time as they were in a rounded cavern the size of a football stadium and all the noises seemed to bounce around forever. It all seemed too much to take in, the giant room and the giant thing which looked less like a giant human and more like a giant bear with human proportions and digits. Though he sounded human enough when he said,
"Thank you for stopping."
"Thanks you for not killing me." It seemed like the appropriate thing to say and, like the scream, it had also come naturally.
"Why would I want to kill you? Have you done something to me?"
"No, it just seemed like sort of the thing a monster would do to a little girl."
"Oh, I didn't know you were a little girl." He thought for a moment before continuing, "I didn't know I was a monster." And because he had heard of little girls and that they were often silly things he was sceptical of her claim. "How do you know I'm a monster?"
"You look a little like the monsters in my books."
He knew about books. He had heard the birds talking about books. People used to try to catch the birds and eat them, but now they just waited around and watched them and tried to find them in their books.
"And these monsters, they kill little girls?"
"Yes, they kill everyone or chase everyone until a hero kills them."
"All the monsters do this?" He had always been wary of sweeping generalizations.
"Well, I suppose not all of them. I guess sometimes they fall in love like in Beauty and the Beat, and then they are good. Or sometimes they are funny like in Shrek and he fell in love too."
"Oh, so to be a good monster you have to fall in love?"
She thought about this for a while and couldn't think of any monsters who turned out to be good and didn't fall in love. In fact, most of them fell in love with princesses.
"Yeah" she said, "I guess it's pretty important to do that."
He had been in love a long time ago, before he came to his cave. Before there were little girls or even that many birds on the outside. He hadn't thought about it in a very long time, but now that he did he could feel a little bit of the way he used to feel.
"I was in love once, I may still be in love with her a little."
"That's good." She said with huge volume of relief in her voice. The monster was surprised that something that small could seem to be filled with that much relief. "Was she a princess?"
"No, I don't think she was a princess. At least she never mentioned it."
"Was she beautiful?"
"I loved to look at her. And she was very soft."
The little girl looked at his bear-like fur and could easily believe that something it loved would be very soft.
"I would like to hear about her, but I should be getting home. Can you you lift me out of the hole?"
"The ceiling is too high, even for me. But I can carry you to another opening, and while we walk I will tell you about her."
And maybe he did.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Splitting Hairs
Recently, Dr. Qui Peng of Georgetown University’s School of Medicine and Dr. Laura Naylor of the Mayo Clinic isolated a bacterium that had been causing severe respiratory failure in those who had inhaled it. These bacteria fed almost exclusively off of filamentous biomaterial such as the material that makes up our hair. 85% of those who suffered from the respiratory failure were hairdressers.
The bacteria eats into the center of the hair beneath the Dermic coat and Hyaline layer so few are exposed to it until the hair is cut open. The bacteria becomes especially potent when exposed to an oxidizing agent or an alkalizing agent. These agents are present in virtually all permanent hair color products.
Fortunately for the reticent, when this bacteria is inhaled through the nose it is effectively disposed of through the nasal cavity's ciliated pseudostratified columnar epithelium. However, when inhaled through the mouth, more of the bacteria is transferred to the lungs where it will eventually cause respiratory failure. Unfortunately so many hair dressers spend so much time talking and so few of them are trained in ventriloquism the probability of stylist being exposed increases with every question answered and asked.
Attempting to treat the infected has proven difficult. It was established that the spread of the bacteria and it's effect on the lungs could be mitigated if the patient could be made to stay quiet and very still. Though few doctors have been able to apply this treatment to their infected hair stylist patients given their natural predilection to conversation and hand movement. Many of the patients have literally talked themselves to death.
Funding for this research was provided by a grant from the John Paul DeJoria foundation whose mission statement is "To Provide better care for haircare professionals".
The bacteria eats into the center of the hair beneath the Dermic coat and Hyaline layer so few are exposed to it until the hair is cut open. The bacteria becomes especially potent when exposed to an oxidizing agent or an alkalizing agent. These agents are present in virtually all permanent hair color products.
Fortunately for the reticent, when this bacteria is inhaled through the nose it is effectively disposed of through the nasal cavity's ciliated pseudostratified columnar epithelium. However, when inhaled through the mouth, more of the bacteria is transferred to the lungs where it will eventually cause respiratory failure. Unfortunately so many hair dressers spend so much time talking and so few of them are trained in ventriloquism the probability of stylist being exposed increases with every question answered and asked.
Attempting to treat the infected has proven difficult. It was established that the spread of the bacteria and it's effect on the lungs could be mitigated if the patient could be made to stay quiet and very still. Though few doctors have been able to apply this treatment to their infected hair stylist patients given their natural predilection to conversation and hand movement. Many of the patients have literally talked themselves to death.
Funding for this research was provided by a grant from the John Paul DeJoria foundation whose mission statement is "To Provide better care for haircare professionals".
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Dial M for Memories
It's been a while since I've watched Law and Order or Boston Legal so please forgive any errors in terms or rules of procedure
Defense The prosecution has failed to provide any evidence of my client's guilt. I move for an immediate dismissal.
Judge I am inclined to grant the motion. Does the prosecution have anything it would like to add?
Prosecutor The prosecution calls to the stand... The Defendant's Mattress!
(Gasps are heard throughout the courtroom)
Defense Your Honor, I object to this witness. A mattress cannot be made to testify against its clients.
Judge Though the mattress and the defendant have been sleeping together, they are not married so their communication is not considered privileged. That said, while there are many instances of evidence being take from off or out of a mattress I have never heard of one willing to testify against a client. Tread carefully counselor.
ProsecutorWill you please state your name and occupation for the courtroom?
MattressMy name is Mattress, and I am a professional mattress.
ProsecutorAnd do you have any specialties that make you unique?
MattressI am a memory-foam mattress.
(Gasps are heard throughout the courtroom. The defendant lowers and shakes his head)
ProsecutorSo you could tell us things about the defendant that a normal mattress would not have ever known, or at least would not be able to remember, is that correct?
DefenseObjection! Leading the mattress! I mean the wittress! I mean the witness!
JudgeObjection sustained. You will abstain from fluffing the testimony of the mattress. This is your last warning.
ProsecutorI withdraw the question. Mattress, can you tell us what makes a memory-foam mattress unique?
MattressI remember the positions of the people who sleep on me, and the distribution of their weight, so eventually I conform to their preferred sleeping positions. After the same person sleeps on me long enough I begin to remember their memories and conform to those memories so recollection is easier for them when they're laying on me.
ProsecutorDo any of the memories added after October 25th stand out?
MattressHe returned to bed much later than usual the night of October 25th. Really it was more like early morning on the 26th. He was acting really strange. He didn't slip into his normal indent on the right side of the bed, but lay on his side on the left side for a while. I knew he would wake up with a backache if I let him stay there, so when he had fallen asleep I settled him over into his usual spot. After a while his memories started to foam up so I could start to take them in. He had knocked the pillow off the bed, so the memories were even more clear than usual.
That night he had met a woman for dinner who I recognized from other memories. After dinner, they walked to his bank where she worked. The bank was closed, but they walked round the back and used a card she had to get into the back offices. They went into an office with the name Steve Melvin on the door, and he picked a lock on the desk and took out a key. A hallway from those offices led to another room she scanned her way into. It was full of safety deposit boxes. He had a box at this bank, but it had been in a different room accessible from the main lobby. There were two key holes in one of the boxes and he put in the key he had just taken out of the desk and she took a key off of a chain around her neck. They took out a small case, but never opened it so I don't know what was inside. They walked out the way they had come in and got into a cab parked a few blocks away.
They drove about 15 miles South on I-5 until they came to a rest stop. He said he had to use the bathroom and didn't take the case, but when he passed her line of sight he walked on to the other side of the rest stop and got into a different car. He waited there for about a minute and a half until he heard 3 gunshots then he drove off North on I-5.
Prosecutor (Holding up a photograph of a dead woman in a car.) Is this the woman and the car from his memory?
The mattress starts to cry. It looks down at its left side where, if you knew what you were looking for, you could see the indentation of a woman who slept on her left side and had the most beautiful memories the mattress had ever remembered.
Defense The prosecution has failed to provide any evidence of my client's guilt. I move for an immediate dismissal.
Judge I am inclined to grant the motion. Does the prosecution have anything it would like to add?
Prosecutor The prosecution calls to the stand... The Defendant's Mattress!
(Gasps are heard throughout the courtroom)
Defense Your Honor, I object to this witness. A mattress cannot be made to testify against its clients.
Judge Though the mattress and the defendant have been sleeping together, they are not married so their communication is not considered privileged. That said, while there are many instances of evidence being take from off or out of a mattress I have never heard of one willing to testify against a client. Tread carefully counselor.
ProsecutorWill you please state your name and occupation for the courtroom?
MattressMy name is Mattress, and I am a professional mattress.
ProsecutorAnd do you have any specialties that make you unique?
MattressI am a memory-foam mattress.
(Gasps are heard throughout the courtroom. The defendant lowers and shakes his head)
ProsecutorSo you could tell us things about the defendant that a normal mattress would not have ever known, or at least would not be able to remember, is that correct?
DefenseObjection! Leading the mattress! I mean the wittress! I mean the witness!
JudgeObjection sustained. You will abstain from fluffing the testimony of the mattress. This is your last warning.
ProsecutorI withdraw the question. Mattress, can you tell us what makes a memory-foam mattress unique?
MattressI remember the positions of the people who sleep on me, and the distribution of their weight, so eventually I conform to their preferred sleeping positions. After the same person sleeps on me long enough I begin to remember their memories and conform to those memories so recollection is easier for them when they're laying on me.
ProsecutorDo any of the memories added after October 25th stand out?
MattressHe returned to bed much later than usual the night of October 25th. Really it was more like early morning on the 26th. He was acting really strange. He didn't slip into his normal indent on the right side of the bed, but lay on his side on the left side for a while. I knew he would wake up with a backache if I let him stay there, so when he had fallen asleep I settled him over into his usual spot. After a while his memories started to foam up so I could start to take them in. He had knocked the pillow off the bed, so the memories were even more clear than usual.
That night he had met a woman for dinner who I recognized from other memories. After dinner, they walked to his bank where she worked. The bank was closed, but they walked round the back and used a card she had to get into the back offices. They went into an office with the name Steve Melvin on the door, and he picked a lock on the desk and took out a key. A hallway from those offices led to another room she scanned her way into. It was full of safety deposit boxes. He had a box at this bank, but it had been in a different room accessible from the main lobby. There were two key holes in one of the boxes and he put in the key he had just taken out of the desk and she took a key off of a chain around her neck. They took out a small case, but never opened it so I don't know what was inside. They walked out the way they had come in and got into a cab parked a few blocks away.
They drove about 15 miles South on I-5 until they came to a rest stop. He said he had to use the bathroom and didn't take the case, but when he passed her line of sight he walked on to the other side of the rest stop and got into a different car. He waited there for about a minute and a half until he heard 3 gunshots then he drove off North on I-5.
Prosecutor (Holding up a photograph of a dead woman in a car.) Is this the woman and the car from his memory?
The mattress starts to cry. It looks down at its left side where, if you knew what you were looking for, you could see the indentation of a woman who slept on her left side and had the most beautiful memories the mattress had ever remembered.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Lawless Victory
My Mother came from Argentina and my Father came from Australia. We all know Australia as a penal colony of the United Kingdom; populated by old-timey English criminals and enormous rodents. And my Mother, though she came from Argentina is actually of German decent. German residents of Argentina are well known as remnant Nazis. So here I was born in the heartland of America with the blood of Nazis and petty thieves; and yet, bam I became a citizen of the greatest country in the world.
I bring this up because there was a lot of talk in the last election campaigning from several prominent politicians and pundits suggesting that we repeal the 14th amendment. As a civics refresher, the 14th amendment guarantees (among other things) that if you are born in the United States then you are a citizen of the United States, regardless of your parent's nationality. Or as they put it:
I not only worry about the next generation of first generation citizens, but also for myself, as there is no reason to think that they wouldn't make the repealing of the amendment retroactive. To protect my self and others I propose the introduction of Buffer Amendments. We introduce one each election cycle that says that no amendment can be repealed unless this amendment is first repealed. And no more than one amendment can be repealed at a time. So we keep hammering these buffers into the constitution until the xenophobics (those afraid of foreigners and warrior princesses) start repealing them, then we push back and forth in a mighty battle for citizenship.
Now, at this point some of you are saying to yourself, "This sounds remarkably similar to the system that protects our world from demon invasion by requiring that the demons defeat earth's warriors in trial by Mortal Kombat (spelling?) for seven years in a row." And while I am not prepared to address that concern at this time I will say that there is merit to the analogy and if we had appointed Lord Raiden as Secretary of Energy a decade ago we would be paying much lower energy bills today.
I bring this up because there was a lot of talk in the last election campaigning from several prominent politicians and pundits suggesting that we repeal the 14th amendment. As a civics refresher, the 14th amendment guarantees (among other things) that if you are born in the United States then you are a citizen of the United States, regardless of your parent's nationality. Or as they put it:
All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.
I not only worry about the next generation of first generation citizens, but also for myself, as there is no reason to think that they wouldn't make the repealing of the amendment retroactive. To protect my self and others I propose the introduction of Buffer Amendments. We introduce one each election cycle that says that no amendment can be repealed unless this amendment is first repealed. And no more than one amendment can be repealed at a time. So we keep hammering these buffers into the constitution until the xenophobics (those afraid of foreigners and warrior princesses) start repealing them, then we push back and forth in a mighty battle for citizenship.
Now, at this point some of you are saying to yourself, "This sounds remarkably similar to the system that protects our world from demon invasion by requiring that the demons defeat earth's warriors in trial by Mortal Kombat (spelling?) for seven years in a row." And while I am not prepared to address that concern at this time I will say that there is merit to the analogy and if we had appointed Lord Raiden as Secretary of Energy a decade ago we would be paying much lower energy bills today.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Ad Nauseam
One of the greatest moments of my life was writing a bit of silliness that included the Jeep Compass and then having Jeep Compass ads appear on my blog. Every now and again you may notice a line or reference that doesn't fit into a post. 7 times out of 10 that's just me enjoying an inside joke with myself. But every now again it's me trying to get google to send me a particular advertiser.
With the elections upon there must be better political ads out there than what I'm currently seeing on my site. So by way of summoning the ads from the great beyond I begin my incantation:
Mama Grizzly and Baby Grizzly were walking quickly through the woods. They were late to the tea party and were quite embarrassed as they were to be the honored guests. But Mama Grizzly had been up late discussing income taxes, liquor laws, and other issues with Mr. Fox.
Mama Grizzly liked Mr. Fox, he always agreed with her and paid her very well. Though his house was always full of foolish blonds who reminded her of an unpleasant experience she had had years ago when she had come home to find a blond girl sleeping in her house. Papa Bear had sworn he had never seen her before in his life, but Mama had noticed a few too many blond hairs around the house before and this was the final straw. She took baby bear and moved back in with her mother, reassuming her maiden name, Grizzly.
Sorry, I have to end the story right there because being on the subject of smart ads this is too apropos too pass up. When I was making sure I was spelling "Blonds" correctly (get off my back I'm always afraid of the silent e) I noticed these interesting related searches when you type "blonds" into dictionary.com
I worry about the young generation. I never had to deal with those sorts of distractions when I looked things up in the dictionary.
With the elections upon there must be better political ads out there than what I'm currently seeing on my site. So by way of summoning the ads from the great beyond I begin my incantation:
Mama Grizzly and Baby Grizzly were walking quickly through the woods. They were late to the tea party and were quite embarrassed as they were to be the honored guests. But Mama Grizzly had been up late discussing income taxes, liquor laws, and other issues with Mr. Fox.
Mama Grizzly liked Mr. Fox, he always agreed with her and paid her very well. Though his house was always full of foolish blonds who reminded her of an unpleasant experience she had had years ago when she had come home to find a blond girl sleeping in her house. Papa Bear had sworn he had never seen her before in his life, but Mama had noticed a few too many blond hairs around the house before and this was the final straw. She took baby bear and moved back in with her mother, reassuming her maiden name, Grizzly.
Sorry, I have to end the story right there because being on the subject of smart ads this is too apropos too pass up. When I was making sure I was spelling "Blonds" correctly (get off my back I'm always afraid of the silent e) I noticed these interesting related searches when you type "blonds" into dictionary.com
I worry about the young generation. I never had to deal with those sorts of distractions when I looked things up in the dictionary.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Star Lite
"I will be a star one day, you know?"
He had not known this. He turned to look at the woman (or girl; depending on whether you asked her mother or an anthropologist) sitting on his couch and leaning on him (or cuddling; depending on whether you are novice or journeyman cuddler). He did not know who she was. He had felt something against him as he watched the movie but hadn't realized it was a person until it had talked. And so he did the only thing a reasonable person would do in such a situation. He asked,
"Who are you?"
Her face bet on a trifecta of looks. First surprised, then a little offended, and then comprehension as she saw the deeper intent of his question. A deeper intent he had not at all intended.
"I guess I'm a person who always finds herself alone. No matter where I go or how many people are around me."
"Well, you're not alone now." He pointed out, though he felt that he shouldn't have needed to as the fact was quite obvious. But this most obvious of statements seemed to have a profound effect on her and if you were trying to figure out whether or not they were cuddling before you could pretty much knock that off right now because now she was quite clearly embracing him.
At that proximity and with the only light in the room coming from the TV it was tough to tell whether or not she was attractive. She certainly smelled attractive. And the part of her cheek he could feel on his own felt like an attractive cheek. Nevertheless, it was an unfamiliar smell, and an unfamiliar cheek, all belonging to the unfamiliar woman on his couch.
When she loosened the embrace and settled back into her previous position, (now the cuddle taxonomists may resume their work) he tried another question.
"How did you get here?"
Again she decided the obvious aim of the question was out of the question and she thought for a while about the answer.
"Some good decisions, some bad decisions. But mostly I got here by trying to become a star."
"What kind of star?" He could already rule out red dwarf. Her skin was slightly tan and he could see her feet stretched out to the other end of the couch.
"I'm a journalist, but not the kind who goes out and finds stories. The kind who takes any story and tells it so everyone will want to know about it because of the way it's being told and the person who is telling it. A television journalist."
He thought of Sunday School and those old Tell A Vision journalists from the scriptures. He did not think of these people for any particular reason. It was just too good of a pun to pass up. The pun must have been so good that it had been telepathically communicated to her, because she started to laugh.
"Though no one is going to see me if I can't get up for work tomorrow. I should go."
She got up and turned on the light and began to gather what must have been her things because he didn't own a purse or fur lined coat. In the light he could see that she was gorgeous. And so he did the only thing a reasonable person would do in such a situation. He asked,
"When will I get to see you again?"
"Well, obviously every weekday at 5:18 and 6:18 on channel 4. I still do the entertainment update."
How had she gotten here? Did she need a ride home?
"Do you need a ride home?"
She gave him a quizzical look
"I drove you here, remember? I've got my car."
"Oh...Do I have your phone number?" At least this would give him some options for the future.
"You should, but look I'll leave my card here, meet me at work tomorrow for lunch. Like noon or noon thirty."
She may very well have kissed him before she left. She may have decided that someone whose main job is to be on TV in the early evening doesn't have to go to bed that early, so she stayed a while longer. But I ended the story about two sentences or so ago. So It's not really up to me.
He had not known this. He turned to look at the woman (or girl; depending on whether you asked her mother or an anthropologist) sitting on his couch and leaning on him (or cuddling; depending on whether you are novice or journeyman cuddler). He did not know who she was. He had felt something against him as he watched the movie but hadn't realized it was a person until it had talked. And so he did the only thing a reasonable person would do in such a situation. He asked,
"Who are you?"
Her face bet on a trifecta of looks. First surprised, then a little offended, and then comprehension as she saw the deeper intent of his question. A deeper intent he had not at all intended.
"I guess I'm a person who always finds herself alone. No matter where I go or how many people are around me."
"Well, you're not alone now." He pointed out, though he felt that he shouldn't have needed to as the fact was quite obvious. But this most obvious of statements seemed to have a profound effect on her and if you were trying to figure out whether or not they were cuddling before you could pretty much knock that off right now because now she was quite clearly embracing him.
At that proximity and with the only light in the room coming from the TV it was tough to tell whether or not she was attractive. She certainly smelled attractive. And the part of her cheek he could feel on his own felt like an attractive cheek. Nevertheless, it was an unfamiliar smell, and an unfamiliar cheek, all belonging to the unfamiliar woman on his couch.
When she loosened the embrace and settled back into her previous position, (now the cuddle taxonomists may resume their work) he tried another question.
"How did you get here?"
Again she decided the obvious aim of the question was out of the question and she thought for a while about the answer.
"Some good decisions, some bad decisions. But mostly I got here by trying to become a star."
"What kind of star?" He could already rule out red dwarf. Her skin was slightly tan and he could see her feet stretched out to the other end of the couch.
"I'm a journalist, but not the kind who goes out and finds stories. The kind who takes any story and tells it so everyone will want to know about it because of the way it's being told and the person who is telling it. A television journalist."
He thought of Sunday School and those old Tell A Vision journalists from the scriptures. He did not think of these people for any particular reason. It was just too good of a pun to pass up. The pun must have been so good that it had been telepathically communicated to her, because she started to laugh.
"Though no one is going to see me if I can't get up for work tomorrow. I should go."
She got up and turned on the light and began to gather what must have been her things because he didn't own a purse or fur lined coat. In the light he could see that she was gorgeous. And so he did the only thing a reasonable person would do in such a situation. He asked,
"When will I get to see you again?"
"Well, obviously every weekday at 5:18 and 6:18 on channel 4. I still do the entertainment update."
How had she gotten here? Did she need a ride home?
"Do you need a ride home?"
She gave him a quizzical look
"I drove you here, remember? I've got my car."
"Oh...Do I have your phone number?" At least this would give him some options for the future.
"You should, but look I'll leave my card here, meet me at work tomorrow for lunch. Like noon or noon thirty."
She may very well have kissed him before she left. She may have decided that someone whose main job is to be on TV in the early evening doesn't have to go to bed that early, so she stayed a while longer. But I ended the story about two sentences or so ago. So It's not really up to me.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Post-Pregnancy Parlance
So, the post I wrote tonight was about new parents, and I think it is hilarious, but way too many of my friends and family who read this blog are new parents and would think it was too dark. That said, please enjoy a not-at-all-dark post written in haste about rainbows and sunshine:
The pretty pink puppy pranced and preened and pulled the purple pouch properly placed prehind the poncho.
"Why I do declare!" said the child-friendly southern character. "We shall all eat like kings tonight."
And they all returned to the cottage where they were encircled in the loving embrace of a family that totally had control over the child rearing situation and were not at all paralyzed by the fear that they do not know how to raise children and never had dreams that they had ruined their child's life that caused them to wake up screaming as often as their infant did. (whoops some of it snuck right in there).
The pretty pink puppy pranced and preened and pulled the purple pouch properly placed prehind the poncho.
"Why I do declare!" said the child-friendly southern character. "We shall all eat like kings tonight."
And they all returned to the cottage where they were encircled in the loving embrace of a family that totally had control over the child rearing situation and were not at all paralyzed by the fear that they do not know how to raise children and never had dreams that they had ruined their child's life that caused them to wake up screaming as often as their infant did. (whoops some of it snuck right in there).
Friday, April 30, 2010
Outlying
So, I haven't been taking the time to write well, but myself from past wrote me and said the blog should be updated twice a week, whether the post was ready or not. There was a reason for this at the time but I can't remember what it was. So there's no real writing today, just an outline:
Topic: Driving in the Rain
Possible titles: Slipping into 3rd, Hydro Racing, Wokking on Water (doesn't really fit this one, but it's such a good title I might need to write a post just to fit it)
True Message: Be careful when driving in the rain.
Humorous Theme: to Deliver Message: No one should get out of bed when it is raining.
Possible References: Noah's Ark, Leader of the Pack, Hurricane Katrina, Singing in the Rain, Mr. Limpet.
Topic: Driving in the Rain
Possible titles: Slipping into 3rd, Hydro Racing, Wokking on Water (doesn't really fit this one, but it's such a good title I might need to write a post just to fit it)
True Message: Be careful when driving in the rain.
Humorous Theme: to Deliver Message: No one should get out of bed when it is raining.
Possible References: Noah's Ark, Leader of the Pack, Hurricane Katrina, Singing in the Rain, Mr. Limpet.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
What? No Post? And so she died.
No post tonight. My cousin's wife just went into labor and I'm on brandy and cigar duty. Which I feel is not a real responsiblity as no one in the family drinks or smokes (although we do not yet know the baby's preference). But I wanted to be involved so I think they made up a job for me. I'm also bringing my hotplate so I can boil water in the waiting room. They still do that right?
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
No Continuum For Old Men
“Where we’re going we don’t need Rhodes” the famous line by Doc Brown that caused a whole island of Greeks and thousands of puffed up scholars to bow their heads in disappointment. Some maintain that the line should actually be written “Where we’re going we don’t need roads”. And they defend this interpretation with various lines pulled out of context and a whole myriad of conspiracy theories with which I will not bore you. What I think we can all agree on is that the Back to the Future movies set the advancement of time travel back decades.
The common portrayal of time travel in our media is all wrong. You can’t achieve it with electrical circuits, complex equations, and discontinued car models. Time travel is an organic process and is one of the most basic functions of the human body. It is a coping technique developed by our ancestors millennia ago. Fight, flight, or flux.
Think about one of the most tragic events of your life. Your body realized that your mind could not cope with all the emotion in that instant so it opened a portal in the space-time continuum and sent many layers of those emotions to your future selfs* to smooth the consumption of pain over time. This is why one event can make you feel sad for years and years after the event.
*Actually not “selves” here because I just decided that when talking about multiple instances of one’s own self the plural will be “selfs”.
It is a widely known (yet closely guarded) fact that most heart attacks are caused by a shock the mind or body experienced decades before. The body just sent too much of the original shock in one packet, so when the future self received it was overwhelmed. Because emotions have such little mass, they are easier to send into the future. Emails and blog posts also have small amounts of mass. I have some small mastery of time travel, so as a demonstration, while I wrote and posted this on Sunday evening per my goals, it will not display until Tuesday night.
One of the problems is that sometimes the emotion isn't the only thing that gets sent to the future. Sometimes memories get sent off too. So you might forget something until years later when the emotion hits. Once I forgot how to tie my left shoe. I went around for years with a shoe lace on my right foot and Velcro on my left until the day I remembered what it felt like when my dog died, and all of a sudden I remembered that the rabbit goes around the tree and through the hole, and from then on I could wear two big-boy shoes again.
Author's Note: That last paragraph is sort of funny, but doesn't really fit in with the theme of the piece.
Author: And you think an impromptu conversation between the author and his notes does?
Author's Note: I don't think so, but I think you'll put it in anyway. I think you do it everytime the content is about to get more personal than you want it to and you want a quick way to end the post.
Author: What do you know? You're just a note, you're not even a full post.
Author's Note: Hey man, words hurt. Especially if you are made of words. That would be like me throwing another person on top of you.
Author: I'm sorry man. You're great. You're a great note.
Author's Note: Would you say I'm really important?
Author: Yeah man, you're really important. I couldn't do this without you.
Author's Note: Would you say that I'm a "Key Note".
Author: See, that's why I love you.
The common portrayal of time travel in our media is all wrong. You can’t achieve it with electrical circuits, complex equations, and discontinued car models. Time travel is an organic process and is one of the most basic functions of the human body. It is a coping technique developed by our ancestors millennia ago. Fight, flight, or flux.
Think about one of the most tragic events of your life. Your body realized that your mind could not cope with all the emotion in that instant so it opened a portal in the space-time continuum and sent many layers of those emotions to your future selfs* to smooth the consumption of pain over time. This is why one event can make you feel sad for years and years after the event.
*Actually not “selves” here because I just decided that when talking about multiple instances of one’s own self the plural will be “selfs”.
It is a widely known (yet closely guarded) fact that most heart attacks are caused by a shock the mind or body experienced decades before. The body just sent too much of the original shock in one packet, so when the future self received it was overwhelmed. Because emotions have such little mass, they are easier to send into the future. Emails and blog posts also have small amounts of mass. I have some small mastery of time travel, so as a demonstration, while I wrote and posted this on Sunday evening per my goals, it will not display until Tuesday night.
One of the problems is that sometimes the emotion isn't the only thing that gets sent to the future. Sometimes memories get sent off too. So you might forget something until years later when the emotion hits. Once I forgot how to tie my left shoe. I went around for years with a shoe lace on my right foot and Velcro on my left until the day I remembered what it felt like when my dog died, and all of a sudden I remembered that the rabbit goes around the tree and through the hole, and from then on I could wear two big-boy shoes again.
Author's Note: That last paragraph is sort of funny, but doesn't really fit in with the theme of the piece.
Author: And you think an impromptu conversation between the author and his notes does?
Author's Note: I don't think so, but I think you'll put it in anyway. I think you do it everytime the content is about to get more personal than you want it to and you want a quick way to end the post.
Author: What do you know? You're just a note, you're not even a full post.
Author's Note: Hey man, words hurt. Especially if you are made of words. That would be like me throwing another person on top of you.
Author: I'm sorry man. You're great. You're a great note.
Author's Note: Would you say I'm really important?
Author: Yeah man, you're really important. I couldn't do this without you.
Author's Note: Would you say that I'm a "Key Note".
Author: See, that's why I love you.
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