This is an idea from The Periwinkle Pen, from weekly segments called Weekly Warmups.
In this exercise, I wrote about whatever the music video of Sigur Ros' "Untitled" made me think of.
I'm a weird person.
Deadroot glared across the fence at Plywood. The enemy's handlebar mustache and naturally wrinkly forehead gave Deadroot cold shivers. Evil men in history donned mustaches, and no men who still lived to feel wrinkles on their faces in this day and age suspiciously tugged at the hearts of America's last withstanding citizens.
"Earlier," Deadroot began, resisting the temptation to spit in Plywood's direction, "you agreed that nor you or you men or citizens would dare cross this border. And what I have you just done?"
"Crossed the border," Plywood smiled, revealing the many gaps among his grin.
A vein throbbed against Deadroot's stress-wrinkled forehead as he clenched his fists. "You know damn well what this means."
"Indeed I do. We'll have to play another game because of my foolish actions," he sighed, shrugging. He lifted his arms and dropped them again to his sides. "What can you do?"
"What I can do," Deadroot spat--and damn, was that great to let out--"is kick your ass at this game.
Plywood grinned and nodded before promptly turning and walking away, with his men. Deadroot snorted before turning and stomped off, parting the small layer of ashes like an ocean.
Muttering under his breath, Deadroot reached the schoolhouse, whose exterior was colored black with white stripes. The man noticed graffiti scribbled onto the side. In yellow chalk, someone wrote, "FREE THEM FREE THEM FREE THEM OR WE WILL DESTROY" until someone took blood red chalk and covered the rest. To the side, the red chalk read, "liars all of them hippie faggots keep on working gov." At the last sentence, Deadroot smiled. At least some of his citizens had his back. Justified.
He entered the building and passed a security guard, to whom Deadroot said, "Make the announcement, group B."
The guard, who looked no younger than twenty three, lifted his left wrist to his mouth, pushing a button on his watch. "Send group B to the Waiting Room."
Deadroot reached a long room and stood in the middle, facing a wall. Pitter patters heard, a door opposite to the entrance opened, and a line of children shuffled inside. Shackles hung from their wrists and ankles, and all but a few kept their heads the down. The deviants dared to send a glare at their captor and then turned their glare toward the ground.
Once the children lined up against the wall, Deadroot stood in front of the child to the far left. He grabbed the boy's face and leaned close, staring with a hard gaze. He turned the boy's face to the left and then to the right. He grunted to himself and moved on to the next child. For five children he proceeded, grunting to himself after each inspection.
A school bell rang out.
All the children's heads turned simultaneously to the mayor.
His lip snarled, and to a guard, he motioned toward the children he looked over. The guard removed a key from his pocket and unlocked the children's shackles, and the six children shuffled through the door the mayor had first entered.
Along the halls, six coats had been hung for the children. Each child snatched one up and slipped their arms through the sleeves, looking at each other in silence. Deadroot stood several feet away, his eyes never drifting away. And once all the children were snug in the winter coats, the turned to another wall and plucked off gas masks.
The children walked outside as ash crunched below their feet. With Deadroot as the caboose, the train of children marched across the land, turning left at some point. They approached a large building, and on the other side of the fence, Deadroot glimpsed Plywood leading children to said building. Deadroot could recognize the children, one young girl's face in particular. His heart skipped a beat.
In the building laid a Roman Colosseum. Deadroot urged the kids through the entrance gate to the field. The major then joined a group of his people and stared at the upcoming spectacle.
"Who will fall this time?" one man whispered to another.
"One of ours, you just watch," the other man responded, nodding to the other side. In a lower voice with his face turned away from the mayor, the man added, "It will be his daughter."
"How could you say such a thing!" the first main said. The mayor glanced their way.
"That's karma for you. Shows how stupid we all are."
"Attention," cried a voice belonging to Plywood, who stood on the opposite side of the spectator's field. "Because my men crossed the border, we must now play this game yet again. Prisoner against prisoner. Life against life." He threw his arms up as his voice rose to a boom. "Those who remain alive will be allowed to return to their respective counties, but only after a prisoner is taken down and chokes on the smoky ash blanketed across the land.
"This game--begin!"
A prisoner of Plywood immediately began to gather ashes in his hand in a circular pattern like a snowball. Those on her side began to do the same. Startled, one of Deadroot's prisoners rushed at the first girl and kicked up the ashes. Plywood's prisoners threw ashballs at the other side while Deadroot's prisoners scrambled about, skinny elephants running a muck.
One prisoner of Plywood rolled a large ashball and ran for a prisoner of the other side. Plywood's prisoner successfully trapped Deadroot's, and other prisoners of Plywood stacked even larger ashballs onto the trapped child. After they stepped back, the ashman trembled, and the previously trapped prisoner of Deadroot stomped out, hurling an ashball into the air.
Ash continued to fly as the prisoners ran circles around each other. Some ash hit prisoners in the shoulder or stomach or leg, but the prisoners continued to collect their weapon. Some men in the audience shook their heads, already forgetting which prisoner was on who's side. Some mayors stared down at the field, eyes focused on one person each, blind to all the others.
And a gas mask flew into the air.
And a mayor stood up.
And a crowd of children dropped the ash in their hands.
As if awakened by a dream, the children walked slowly toward the fallen child. Beady eyes stared back at, blinking slowly, mouth agape, at little monsters. Gasping for breath. Ashes slipping into her throat.
And a mayor clapped with a smile.
And a father dropped his face in his hands.
And a man turned to the one standing beside him.
"This game won't solve anything."
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Crush Crush
Just a short childhood memory of Lukas.
Sometimes, it is fun to write about children.
Fun facts: Red's real name is Benjamin, and Maroon's real name is Ashley.
"Mama, can I go over to Ben's house?"
Lukas stared up at his mother, who was cleaning a window with a dirty rag and cleaner fluid. "Are his parents okay with it?"
"Yup!"
"Then you can," she said, pausing her work and smiling at him. Teasingly, she asked, "Why are you so eager to go to his house lately?"
Lukas' cheeks burned red as he turned his head away, pouting. "Nothing."
His mother lowered herself and pinched one of his cheeks. "You're blushing."
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yeah-huh! It's his sister, isn't it?"
"No!" Lukas cried, crossing his arms.
"It's okay, sweeite. It's cute when little boys have crushes on little girls."
"That's not it!" Lukas insisted.
Chuckling, his mother returned to cleaning the window. "Sure it isn't. Remember to come back before dinner."
Lukas ran out of the house and down the street, hoping his face would return to normal when he reached his friend's house. He stopped at each street and looked both ways, the continued to run. He jammed his hand in his pocket and felt for the piece of Starburst. He inwardly giggled and felt his cheeks heat up again.
Once at the foot of the door, Lukas pressed the doorbell three times, one after another. Lukas heard footsteps and was soon greeted by ben. "Yay, you can play with us!" Ben said, hopping up and down. In the distance Lukas heard more footsteps.
Lukas nodded vigorously and felt for the candy again. "B-but first, I wanted to give something to Ashley."
"Again?" Ben said disbelievingly.
"Give me what?" Ashley popped up from behind Ben, smiling with rosy cheeks.
The flames in Lukas' cheeks burned even brighter. He pulled out the Starburst decorated in a red wrapper. "I know how much you like Starburst and the color red, so I saved this for you."
"Thank you!" Ashley said, taking the candy and unwrapping it immediately. Lukas shyly placed his hands behind his back.
"Wait, I should get the red Starburst," Ben said, "because I'm Red!"
"Nope, you're Ben," Ashley said, popping the candy in her mouth. "You don't slay demons with a keyboard."
"But I wanna be called Red!"
"Too bad," his sister taunted, sticking out her tongue.
After Ashley swallowed her gift, the three kids ran toward the backyard. Red ran faster than the other two and stood on top of a risen slope. "Today, we're gonna play hide and seek. And Lukas goes first because he didn't give me candy!"
"You're a sore loser, Ben," Lukas whined, pouting again.
"It's Red!"
"Whatever."
Lukas took over Ben's spot on the slope and turned his back from the rest of the yard. Placing his hands over his closed eyes, he slowly counted, "Ten, nine, eight..."
He listened for footsteps carefully. One pair drifted a ways off before stopping while the other pair only pounded against the ground for a few seconds. Near by, he heard the rustling of foliage. He smiled as he turned around and shouted, "Ready or not, here I come!"
Lukas quickly surveyed the backyard cluttered with playing equipment and stared at the nearby bush. He envisioned Ashley crouched behind the big bush as she always did, each game. No matter what. Even though the boys knew she always hid there.
He shoved his arms into the bush and pulled some branches apart, and there he found Ashley's brown eyes staring at him. She giggled and crawled out. "Found me again!"
"It's easy to find you," Lukas said, scratching at his brown hair. He noticed a leaf in Ashley's black long hair and pulled it out. "I don't get how your hair is not tangled."
"Because I'm cool."
"Yup."
The two of them stood around, looking around from their spot. Ashley nudged Lukas and whispered with a sneer, "Let's go back inside and leave Ben out here."
"Good idea," Lukas said, and he beamed as they snuck back into the house.
Sometimes, it is fun to write about children.
Fun facts: Red's real name is Benjamin, and Maroon's real name is Ashley.
"Mama, can I go over to Ben's house?"
Lukas stared up at his mother, who was cleaning a window with a dirty rag and cleaner fluid. "Are his parents okay with it?"
"Yup!"
"Then you can," she said, pausing her work and smiling at him. Teasingly, she asked, "Why are you so eager to go to his house lately?"
Lukas' cheeks burned red as he turned his head away, pouting. "Nothing."
His mother lowered herself and pinched one of his cheeks. "You're blushing."
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yeah-huh! It's his sister, isn't it?"
"No!" Lukas cried, crossing his arms.
"It's okay, sweeite. It's cute when little boys have crushes on little girls."
"That's not it!" Lukas insisted.
Chuckling, his mother returned to cleaning the window. "Sure it isn't. Remember to come back before dinner."
Lukas ran out of the house and down the street, hoping his face would return to normal when he reached his friend's house. He stopped at each street and looked both ways, the continued to run. He jammed his hand in his pocket and felt for the piece of Starburst. He inwardly giggled and felt his cheeks heat up again.
Once at the foot of the door, Lukas pressed the doorbell three times, one after another. Lukas heard footsteps and was soon greeted by ben. "Yay, you can play with us!" Ben said, hopping up and down. In the distance Lukas heard more footsteps.
Lukas nodded vigorously and felt for the candy again. "B-but first, I wanted to give something to Ashley."
"Again?" Ben said disbelievingly.
"Give me what?" Ashley popped up from behind Ben, smiling with rosy cheeks.
The flames in Lukas' cheeks burned even brighter. He pulled out the Starburst decorated in a red wrapper. "I know how much you like Starburst and the color red, so I saved this for you."
"Thank you!" Ashley said, taking the candy and unwrapping it immediately. Lukas shyly placed his hands behind his back.
"Wait, I should get the red Starburst," Ben said, "because I'm Red!"
"Nope, you're Ben," Ashley said, popping the candy in her mouth. "You don't slay demons with a keyboard."
"But I wanna be called Red!"
"Too bad," his sister taunted, sticking out her tongue.
After Ashley swallowed her gift, the three kids ran toward the backyard. Red ran faster than the other two and stood on top of a risen slope. "Today, we're gonna play hide and seek. And Lukas goes first because he didn't give me candy!"
"You're a sore loser, Ben," Lukas whined, pouting again.
"It's Red!"
"Whatever."
Lukas took over Ben's spot on the slope and turned his back from the rest of the yard. Placing his hands over his closed eyes, he slowly counted, "Ten, nine, eight..."
He listened for footsteps carefully. One pair drifted a ways off before stopping while the other pair only pounded against the ground for a few seconds. Near by, he heard the rustling of foliage. He smiled as he turned around and shouted, "Ready or not, here I come!"
Lukas quickly surveyed the backyard cluttered with playing equipment and stared at the nearby bush. He envisioned Ashley crouched behind the big bush as she always did, each game. No matter what. Even though the boys knew she always hid there.
He shoved his arms into the bush and pulled some branches apart, and there he found Ashley's brown eyes staring at him. She giggled and crawled out. "Found me again!"
"It's easy to find you," Lukas said, scratching at his brown hair. He noticed a leaf in Ashley's black long hair and pulled it out. "I don't get how your hair is not tangled."
"Because I'm cool."
"Yup."
The two of them stood around, looking around from their spot. Ashley nudged Lukas and whispered with a sneer, "Let's go back inside and leave Ben out here."
"Good idea," Lukas said, and he beamed as they snuck back into the house.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Cut down a notch.
So I redid the appearance of the blog.
It looks less professional.
I wish I knew CSS. Oh well.
Obviously I did not update Wednesday because I was on a trip which occupied my time for a few days.
So I will just update this upcoming Wednesday. Yup.
It looks less professional.
I wish I knew CSS. Oh well.
Obviously I did not update Wednesday because I was on a trip which occupied my time for a few days.
So I will just update this upcoming Wednesday. Yup.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Exercise: Reach For It
Another exercise I found at The Periwinkle Pen.
This one is based on the Machine of Death, where people can get a slip of paper that tells them how they will die. What's on the paper is not always literal though, which doesn't solve questions about death, really.
[Reach For It]
Stampede.
Lukas squinted at the small slip of paper in his hand. Eight simple letters that foresaw his death. He told himself that looking at the paper in the safety of his own home would eliminate the spook factor, but his home gave him little comfort.
"What does it say?" Red asked, jumping up and down and trying to snatch the slip away.
Lukas held the paper above his own head and sneered, his eyes narrowed and stare genuine despite his his quickly beating heart. "Only if you can reach it from my hand, short stuff."
"Not fair!"
Lukas chuckled, but then slowly stopped and frowned as Red began pointing and laughing. The paper with the single word dangled in front of Lukas' face, black fingernails dully shining from the ceiling light.
"You really should be careful when I'm around," a girl smiled, lightly yellowed teeth greeting him. "I may not be as tall as you, but I'm sneakier than your dead cat instincts can handle."
Rolling his eyes, Lukas tried to grab back the slip. "Now that is what I call unfair, Maroon."
Maroon shrugged, pulling away the paper. "I don't see how it's unfair. You told Red and I that you would show us what that silly Machine would say about your so-called 'future death.' As your friends, Red and I are allowed to be curious. God knows you'd want to see my foreseen death."
"And mine," chimed Red.
"Don't make me wrestle you for it," Lukas said, smiling more and more to himself. Wrestling did not sound so bad in the least, a nice distraction. He eyed Maroon up and down--
"Stampede."
Maroon's eyebrows rose as her gaze switched from the paper to Lukas. She flicked the paper back at the cranberry-haired man and flipped her towering red Mohawk. Red blinked at Lukas, who quickly snatched the paper with a slightly pink face, as his sister said, "Well, what do you make of that?"
"Nothing."
"You're kidding."
"Not really," Lukas said, itching his shoulder and stuffing the piece of paper in his back pocket. Unconsciously he rolled his shoulder and realized how lucky he was to have hair covering his forehead sweat. "We don't even know if this freaky voo-doo is even legitimate. They say the Machine never fails, but you know propaganda. They could claim so just to get our money."
"I heard otherwise from some guy," Red said, throwing himself at Lukas' recently-made bed and rolling on his back, letting his head hang upside down. "He said that some other guy he knew got a prediction that read 'gunshot.' His friend swore he'd stay in the house to avoid any conflict with guns. Five days later, he was watching a movie, a man shot a gun, BAM. Had a heart attack. The gunshot caused the man to have a heart attack! It's not totally bogus!"
"So they're cryptic," said Maroon, now looking at Lukas. "So maybe this is a symbolic stampede."
Lukas stretched his back and arms. "My first thought was a human stampede."
When the Grupp siblings just stared, Lukas pressed his lips together, halting any chance of nervous lip-quivers. "Is that so wrong of me?" he mock pouted.
"Only famous people get trampled by people," Maroon shot mockingly right back at the man.
Lukas shook his head and smiled, a new thought coming to his head--and said though eased his beating heart. His eyes shone. "You see, my dear Maroon, I will become famous. The girls will love me so much that they will be moved and rush to me in the wild passion of obsession. And that's how I want to die. Plus, once I die, people will become so depressed, their mangled emotions will drive them to kill themselves just to join me in death."
One of Maroon's eyes twitched and her lips tightened. "Are you really supporting mass suicide?"
"If it's in my name, then yes."
"You're horrible."
"Horribly beautiful."
"Lame," Red called, now laying on his stomach with arms dangling over the edge.
"What I find lame," Lukas said, picking his words tastefully, with a smug smirk across his mug, "is how you two didn't get your own little prediction from the Machine."
Red smiled and fixed a shining gaze at Lukas. If Red's thick black eyebrows were ten times thinner, and if all his facial piercing disappeared, he would look like an middle school child looking up at a teacher. "I don't need a piece of paper to drive me deeper into insanity. I've got the psychosis for that."
"And I really don't care how I die," Maroon said. "And after your little remark, I don't think I care how you die either." She pushed past Lukas and out the door, offering a small backwards glance.
"Ouch," Lukas said, rubbing his chest. "That hurt. Talk about an emotional blow."
When Lukas turned to Red, the short man only stared at him with clouded eyes. From the looks of it, Red stared not at Lukas or the wall behind him or even into space, as cliches go. Tilting his head, Lukas said, "What's with that trippy look on your face, Red?"
Red offered a light smile. "I think I know what kind of stampede will cause your death."
"Oh really? What do you say it is?"
"Only if you can reach it from within my mind, tall stuff."
This one is based on the Machine of Death, where people can get a slip of paper that tells them how they will die. What's on the paper is not always literal though, which doesn't solve questions about death, really.
[Reach For It]
Stampede.
Lukas squinted at the small slip of paper in his hand. Eight simple letters that foresaw his death. He told himself that looking at the paper in the safety of his own home would eliminate the spook factor, but his home gave him little comfort.
"What does it say?" Red asked, jumping up and down and trying to snatch the slip away.
Lukas held the paper above his own head and sneered, his eyes narrowed and stare genuine despite his his quickly beating heart. "Only if you can reach it from my hand, short stuff."
"Not fair!"
Lukas chuckled, but then slowly stopped and frowned as Red began pointing and laughing. The paper with the single word dangled in front of Lukas' face, black fingernails dully shining from the ceiling light.
"You really should be careful when I'm around," a girl smiled, lightly yellowed teeth greeting him. "I may not be as tall as you, but I'm sneakier than your dead cat instincts can handle."
Rolling his eyes, Lukas tried to grab back the slip. "Now that is what I call unfair, Maroon."
Maroon shrugged, pulling away the paper. "I don't see how it's unfair. You told Red and I that you would show us what that silly Machine would say about your so-called 'future death.' As your friends, Red and I are allowed to be curious. God knows you'd want to see my foreseen death."
"And mine," chimed Red.
"Don't make me wrestle you for it," Lukas said, smiling more and more to himself. Wrestling did not sound so bad in the least, a nice distraction. He eyed Maroon up and down--
"Stampede."
Maroon's eyebrows rose as her gaze switched from the paper to Lukas. She flicked the paper back at the cranberry-haired man and flipped her towering red Mohawk. Red blinked at Lukas, who quickly snatched the paper with a slightly pink face, as his sister said, "Well, what do you make of that?"
"Nothing."
"You're kidding."
"Not really," Lukas said, itching his shoulder and stuffing the piece of paper in his back pocket. Unconsciously he rolled his shoulder and realized how lucky he was to have hair covering his forehead sweat. "We don't even know if this freaky voo-doo is even legitimate. They say the Machine never fails, but you know propaganda. They could claim so just to get our money."
"I heard otherwise from some guy," Red said, throwing himself at Lukas' recently-made bed and rolling on his back, letting his head hang upside down. "He said that some other guy he knew got a prediction that read 'gunshot.' His friend swore he'd stay in the house to avoid any conflict with guns. Five days later, he was watching a movie, a man shot a gun, BAM. Had a heart attack. The gunshot caused the man to have a heart attack! It's not totally bogus!"
"So they're cryptic," said Maroon, now looking at Lukas. "So maybe this is a symbolic stampede."
Lukas stretched his back and arms. "My first thought was a human stampede."
When the Grupp siblings just stared, Lukas pressed his lips together, halting any chance of nervous lip-quivers. "Is that so wrong of me?" he mock pouted.
"Only famous people get trampled by people," Maroon shot mockingly right back at the man.
Lukas shook his head and smiled, a new thought coming to his head--and said though eased his beating heart. His eyes shone. "You see, my dear Maroon, I will become famous. The girls will love me so much that they will be moved and rush to me in the wild passion of obsession. And that's how I want to die. Plus, once I die, people will become so depressed, their mangled emotions will drive them to kill themselves just to join me in death."
One of Maroon's eyes twitched and her lips tightened. "Are you really supporting mass suicide?"
"If it's in my name, then yes."
"You're horrible."
"Horribly beautiful."
"Lame," Red called, now laying on his stomach with arms dangling over the edge.
"What I find lame," Lukas said, picking his words tastefully, with a smug smirk across his mug, "is how you two didn't get your own little prediction from the Machine."
Red smiled and fixed a shining gaze at Lukas. If Red's thick black eyebrows were ten times thinner, and if all his facial piercing disappeared, he would look like an middle school child looking up at a teacher. "I don't need a piece of paper to drive me deeper into insanity. I've got the psychosis for that."
"And I really don't care how I die," Maroon said. "And after your little remark, I don't think I care how you die either." She pushed past Lukas and out the door, offering a small backwards glance.
"Ouch," Lukas said, rubbing his chest. "That hurt. Talk about an emotional blow."
When Lukas turned to Red, the short man only stared at him with clouded eyes. From the looks of it, Red stared not at Lukas or the wall behind him or even into space, as cliches go. Tilting his head, Lukas said, "What's with that trippy look on your face, Red?"
Red offered a light smile. "I think I know what kind of stampede will cause your death."
"Oh really? What do you say it is?"
"Only if you can reach it from within my mind, tall stuff."
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The Second
To the ones that have been living in my head,
to the ones that changed my life,
to the ones that helped me through a hard time,
to the ones that led me to improvements,
to the ones that make me feel giddy when thinking about them,
I love you. Happy Second Anniversary, my idea babies. <3
[The Second]
"Oh my gosh, I can't even begin--"
"You can say, 'thank you so much, I love you.'" Abel said, smiling.
Mark's face continued beaming at the little box in his hand. He bit his bottom lip with his mouth curved upwards, and then he looked directly at Abel. "'Thank you so much, I love you.'"
With a satisfied chuckle, Abel kissed Mark gently on the lips and scooted closer. Mark leaned into him and looked again at his gift. After some thought, he said, "You do know we're the past the stage where we have to impress each other. It's been that way for over a year now."
"I know," Abel said, his smile slightly flattened. "I just wanted to get you something special this year. Something that will last long."
"I know, I know. I'm still not used to it. And, hey, memories last a long time."
"Until you develop Alzheimer's."
"Okay, let's stop being negative," Mark said, kissing Abel's cheek. Abel tried to turn his face away, but Mark grabbed his cheek and turned him around. Mark's eyes lost their giddy shine, and he straightened his face. "Really, I'm very glad for this. For these two years. For these struggles. All that you've done, really." After a pause, he added, "When you're sweet, you're very sweet."
Closing his eyes, Abel brushed away Mark's hand and wrapped his arm around his boyfriend's shoulder. "To that, I'll say my thanks for you. Thanks for dealing with the rocky beginning. Thanks for dealing with the obvious problems with being with me. Thanks for putting up with my personal demons and stupid shit like that." His voice dwindled down to silence.
A train horn whistled, and the chuggs of the engine and wheels slowly gained audacity. Mark sighed happily and looked again at the box in his hand. He set the box down on his knee and reached into the box. "That's what being in love is about, isn't it?"
In his hand, he tightly clutched the skull ring with the words "Through struggles and strife, I love you."
to the ones that changed my life,
to the ones that helped me through a hard time,
to the ones that led me to improvements,
to the ones that make me feel giddy when thinking about them,
I love you. Happy Second Anniversary, my idea babies. <3
[The Second]
"Oh my gosh, I can't even begin--"
"You can say, 'thank you so much, I love you.'" Abel said, smiling.
Mark's face continued beaming at the little box in his hand. He bit his bottom lip with his mouth curved upwards, and then he looked directly at Abel. "'Thank you so much, I love you.'"
With a satisfied chuckle, Abel kissed Mark gently on the lips and scooted closer. Mark leaned into him and looked again at his gift. After some thought, he said, "You do know we're the past the stage where we have to impress each other. It's been that way for over a year now."
"I know," Abel said, his smile slightly flattened. "I just wanted to get you something special this year. Something that will last long."
"I know, I know. I'm still not used to it. And, hey, memories last a long time."
"Until you develop Alzheimer's."
"Okay, let's stop being negative," Mark said, kissing Abel's cheek. Abel tried to turn his face away, but Mark grabbed his cheek and turned him around. Mark's eyes lost their giddy shine, and he straightened his face. "Really, I'm very glad for this. For these two years. For these struggles. All that you've done, really." After a pause, he added, "When you're sweet, you're very sweet."
Closing his eyes, Abel brushed away Mark's hand and wrapped his arm around his boyfriend's shoulder. "To that, I'll say my thanks for you. Thanks for dealing with the rocky beginning. Thanks for dealing with the obvious problems with being with me. Thanks for putting up with my personal demons and stupid shit like that." His voice dwindled down to silence.
A train horn whistled, and the chuggs of the engine and wheels slowly gained audacity. Mark sighed happily and looked again at the box in his hand. He set the box down on his knee and reached into the box. "That's what being in love is about, isn't it?"
In his hand, he tightly clutched the skull ring with the words "Through struggles and strife, I love you."
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
I Hate Easter
Did I seriously write about my experience with a shiny Munna in Pokemon Black?
Yes. Yes I did.
Wrote this on May 11, 2011.
[I Hate Easter]
That little bastard brought about the purge.
I will always remember that day. The trainer accessed the PC with a wide grin slapped on his face. He logged in and took a glance at the eight of us sitting in the box. I wonder what he saw through his eyes? Eight weak bobbing flower-stained pink blobs? Numbers to increase probability? Failed hatchlings left to be forever alone? I can assure you, reader, that he did not see us for who we really were: the potential dream-come-true for a starting child.
We are Pokemon, not spoiled berries. You can't just throw us away.
But he did.
We all turned our heads at the sparkling yellow blob-of-a-Munna and just stared. His green flowers created a fairly nice blend against his yellow body, surely less embarrassing for a male compared to the average Munna. And his name was Easter.
Now--what the hell? You don't just go around naming Munnas stupid shit like "Flower" and "Buffs" and then pull a holiday name out of your ass. Nor do you start assigning random "people" names and mainly hand out ones considered stupid by sniggering teenagers. Like my own name, Gilbert. You just don't go around doing that.
I'm going off on a tangent. Anyway.
So the trainer gently placed this sparkly bright mess in the box (carefully named "MUNNA," mind you) right next to the cutie pie named Hope. Hope. Yeah, kid, Hope sure became a useful tool for you.
Again. So he placed this strange Munna in the PC, and he flat out started wailing and flailing his arms around. He flat out started giggling and squealing with a brightly red face. He flat out started swaying and clapping his hands like an amused human baby.
Hey, I may have a pink body, purple flowers, and eyelashes--a look shouting GIRLY--but at least I don't act like a fuckin' pansy like that teen boy. And I doubt a girl would act that way over a Pokemon, either. What the hell, man?
Then the now nine of us watched the trainer calm down and look at his current two eggs. He shrugs, shoots a smile aimed for fuckin' Easter, and leaves the Pokemon Center.
Easter just looked at us, blinking with his newborn eyes. I can assure you, reader, that none of us talked to that Munna, not even Hope, who probably aided (somehow?) the shiny Munna's existence. He gave off the aura of the fuckin' plague, I tell you!
Minutes later, the trainer came back and plopped two more Munnas in the box, one whose name as FRIDAY. WHAT THE HELL. THAT'S WORSE THAN A HOLIDAY FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.
The trainer yawned and said goodnight to us with an additional wink for fuckin' Easter. Because riding around a city on a bike watching miracles happen is serious business. I remember wishing he would never come back.
But of course with Mister Look-At-Me-I'm-So-Shiny-Kiss-My-Ass, the trainer was bound to run back like a human child at a freakshow.
More than twelve hours later of silence among my comrades (and shiny-pants), the trainer returned. WITH MORE EGGS. What, it wasn't good enough having one special snowflake, he needed more now?
And at that point my face burned red, my beady red eyes glaring at that son of a bitch. I saw his plan now! He was using us! And to feed his sick satisfaction he was giving us even more stupid names (I am not kidding you, he named two Munnas "Rebecca" and "Black." That's just wrong, man!) and especially tortured the males. Yeah yeah, we're hilarious because we are pink. Real men wear pink.
For the next hour he plopped off more ludicrously named Munnas (for examples, "Pansy" and "Hilbert" and "Helga" and "Daffodil"). In that hour, he managed to fill all thirty box slots.
And that's when the bastard trainer finally did it.
He gathered us into Poke Balls and sealed us away from the world. And goddamn, those balls are hard to get used to.
In a matter of minutes the sun hit my face again, and I floated above the ground next to twenty-nine weak bobbing flower-stained pink blobs. My little eyes widened as the trainer held a small frown on his face. A small dose of sympathy poked me, but then the trainer waved his hands way from us. Tilting a bit, I turned to see where we were.
The Dreamyard. The home of Munnas.
I knew it I knew it I knew it I KNEW IT. Do you see now that the names I called him were true? That he's an ungrateful brat that only wants the best, which are apparently oddities and rare mutations?
I snapped.
I ran (above ground) to the opening and into the wild grass, little beads of tears flying out. I heard the whimpers of the other Munnas behind me as we all stumbled into the grass. Other Munnas roaming about glanced at us and just blinked, but they didn't attack us. I didn't care if I was crying, I was a fucking baby at level one! If anything, I wanted to be surrounded by mama and papa and bros and sisses. That's what infants want, right?
But nope, that trainer was forcing mama to sleep with a German duck-thing and popping out babies like heated corn kernels. To think my dear mama Musharna's children were forced away! I remember crying myself to sleep for days knowing she never saw her babies and her babies never saw their mama.
Before I head off with my twenty-nine strong brothers and sisters to raid Striaton City in search of our ex-trainer, I will make this easy and sum up the story of my life up until now and surely for many years after today.
I hate Easter.
Yes. Yes I did.
Wrote this on May 11, 2011.
[I Hate Easter]
That little bastard brought about the purge.
I will always remember that day. The trainer accessed the PC with a wide grin slapped on his face. He logged in and took a glance at the eight of us sitting in the box. I wonder what he saw through his eyes? Eight weak bobbing flower-stained pink blobs? Numbers to increase probability? Failed hatchlings left to be forever alone? I can assure you, reader, that he did not see us for who we really were: the potential dream-come-true for a starting child.
We are Pokemon, not spoiled berries. You can't just throw us away.
But he did.
We all turned our heads at the sparkling yellow blob-of-a-Munna and just stared. His green flowers created a fairly nice blend against his yellow body, surely less embarrassing for a male compared to the average Munna. And his name was Easter.
Now--what the hell? You don't just go around naming Munnas stupid shit like "Flower" and "Buffs" and then pull a holiday name out of your ass. Nor do you start assigning random "people" names and mainly hand out ones considered stupid by sniggering teenagers. Like my own name, Gilbert. You just don't go around doing that.
I'm going off on a tangent. Anyway.
So the trainer gently placed this sparkly bright mess in the box (carefully named "MUNNA," mind you) right next to the cutie pie named Hope. Hope. Yeah, kid, Hope sure became a useful tool for you.
Again. So he placed this strange Munna in the PC, and he flat out started wailing and flailing his arms around. He flat out started giggling and squealing with a brightly red face. He flat out started swaying and clapping his hands like an amused human baby.
Hey, I may have a pink body, purple flowers, and eyelashes--a look shouting GIRLY--but at least I don't act like a fuckin' pansy like that teen boy. And I doubt a girl would act that way over a Pokemon, either. What the hell, man?
Then the now nine of us watched the trainer calm down and look at his current two eggs. He shrugs, shoots a smile aimed for fuckin' Easter, and leaves the Pokemon Center.
Easter just looked at us, blinking with his newborn eyes. I can assure you, reader, that none of us talked to that Munna, not even Hope, who probably aided (somehow?) the shiny Munna's existence. He gave off the aura of the fuckin' plague, I tell you!
Minutes later, the trainer came back and plopped two more Munnas in the box, one whose name as FRIDAY. WHAT THE HELL. THAT'S WORSE THAN A HOLIDAY FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.
The trainer yawned and said goodnight to us with an additional wink for fuckin' Easter. Because riding around a city on a bike watching miracles happen is serious business. I remember wishing he would never come back.
But of course with Mister Look-At-Me-I'm-So-Shiny-Kiss-My-Ass, the trainer was bound to run back like a human child at a freakshow.
More than twelve hours later of silence among my comrades (and shiny-pants), the trainer returned. WITH MORE EGGS. What, it wasn't good enough having one special snowflake, he needed more now?
And at that point my face burned red, my beady red eyes glaring at that son of a bitch. I saw his plan now! He was using us! And to feed his sick satisfaction he was giving us even more stupid names (I am not kidding you, he named two Munnas "Rebecca" and "Black." That's just wrong, man!) and especially tortured the males. Yeah yeah, we're hilarious because we are pink. Real men wear pink.
For the next hour he plopped off more ludicrously named Munnas (for examples, "Pansy" and "Hilbert" and "Helga" and "Daffodil"). In that hour, he managed to fill all thirty box slots.
And that's when the bastard trainer finally did it.
He gathered us into Poke Balls and sealed us away from the world. And goddamn, those balls are hard to get used to.
In a matter of minutes the sun hit my face again, and I floated above the ground next to twenty-nine weak bobbing flower-stained pink blobs. My little eyes widened as the trainer held a small frown on his face. A small dose of sympathy poked me, but then the trainer waved his hands way from us. Tilting a bit, I turned to see where we were.
The Dreamyard. The home of Munnas.
I knew it I knew it I knew it I KNEW IT. Do you see now that the names I called him were true? That he's an ungrateful brat that only wants the best, which are apparently oddities and rare mutations?
I snapped.
I ran (above ground) to the opening and into the wild grass, little beads of tears flying out. I heard the whimpers of the other Munnas behind me as we all stumbled into the grass. Other Munnas roaming about glanced at us and just blinked, but they didn't attack us. I didn't care if I was crying, I was a fucking baby at level one! If anything, I wanted to be surrounded by mama and papa and bros and sisses. That's what infants want, right?
But nope, that trainer was forcing mama to sleep with a German duck-thing and popping out babies like heated corn kernels. To think my dear mama Musharna's children were forced away! I remember crying myself to sleep for days knowing she never saw her babies and her babies never saw their mama.
Before I head off with my twenty-nine strong brothers and sisters to raid Striaton City in search of our ex-trainer, I will make this easy and sum up the story of my life up until now and surely for many years after today.
I hate Easter.
Coming back!
So I'm returning to this blog now that school is over. Plus, I feel more comfortable.
But! From now on, I plan to post every week. Starting today with the post after this one.
For this month, I'll be posting little things I've worked on during my hiatus. None of them are major or long, but they'll work. And hey, I did enjoy writing them nonetheless! And for July, I plan to participate in NaNoWriMo's July equivalent. I'm not sure if I want to post my progress every day or not. I did that sort of posting for NaNo on another site, and I actually had fun with fun giving them daily titles. They were lines I liked.
I am going to have fun with this and not fail myself next time!
But! From now on, I plan to post every week. Starting today with the post after this one.
For this month, I'll be posting little things I've worked on during my hiatus. None of them are major or long, but they'll work. And hey, I did enjoy writing them nonetheless! And for July, I plan to participate in NaNoWriMo's July equivalent. I'm not sure if I want to post my progress every day or not. I did that sort of posting for NaNo on another site, and I actually had fun with fun giving them daily titles. They were lines I liked.
I am going to have fun with this and not fail myself next time!
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