|# ¿ Feb 15, 2013 23:11|
|# ¿ Dec 8, 2021 19:47|
My first entry! Woo woo!
The worst entry? Totally possible.
(Word count 442)
“Bear! Bear on the lot!” a man yelled, tearing across the dealership. His screams, coupled with flashes of fur and what sounded very clearly like a growl, dominoed into general panic across Danny's RVs and Trailers. People ran towards one another, hoping one of them would know exactly what to do. A boy being dragged by his father shouted snarls of his own, certain he could scare the monster off. One woman dove into the open door of the RV her husband and she had just been considering, and slammed the door. A manager frantically waved the crowd into the lot's small building. “Bear! Bear! A gosh-forsaken bear!” the man was still shouting when they'd all made it inside.
There was a duck on the lot too, but nobody panicked about it. It was perched on top of the RV where the woman had hidden. In its beak was a set of keys and a bag of chips.
“Is everyone alright?” asked the man who had been yelling. He wore slacks, a red tie and a nametag that said “Danny.”
“Are we all accounted for? John's called the police or animal control or whoever, an' they say we'll all be okay so long as we're in here.”
“Milena, my wife, she was with me...” said a pale man in a green shirt. He had no nametag.
In the RV, Milena could hear something powerful brushing against the passenger door. “The dealer had said the RV was tough“ she thought, “I guess if the bear doesn't break in and eat me we'll have to buy the thing. Do bears even eat people?” Then the word “maul” started to enter her thoughts and she had to close her eyes. The doors were locked, bears are dumb, she'd be fine. She heard the sound of the driver's side lock popping.
“Holy heck.” said Danny. “It looks like that bear's got some bit of paper taped to it and... is that a duck?”
Milena couldn't scream. She couldn't move. All she could do was read the note.
Sir or Madam,
I am a duck, my wife is a bear and you are our hostage. Forgive us but this is the only way.
If you drive us to the city of Puebla, Mexico without incident you will not be harmed.
We are very much in love and November approaches. This is a difficult time of year for us as I do my winters abroad and she does them asleep.
You will not be harmed but you must drive now. Take the keys and open the chips.
|# ¿ Feb 18, 2013 04:58|
Well poo poo, I went and fell on my own slightly pointed stick. Guess I better unspill these guts and cry vengeance.
|# ¿ Feb 19, 2013 02:31|
In in in.
|# ¿ Feb 26, 2013 04:41|
In in in.
|# ¿ May 22, 2013 06:21|
Lizard and Rock Quit Smoking (474)
One day, as Lizard was basking on the back of Rock, the two agreed that they had reached a time in their lives when smoking just didn't make sense anymore, and together they smoked the last of Rock's Kools and swore never to buy cigarettes again.
The next day, Lizard was feeling it.
“Good morning, brother Lizard!” called Pig as he jogged past, “You and Rock are enjoying the sun, I see. You going to my party tonight?”
“I know you didn't say anything pushy just now,” Lizard started “but I just quit smoking and everything is getting to me and sorry if I snap at you.”
“Oh!” said Pig, slowing his pace “It's no worries. Good for you!”
Lizard gave nothing but a grunt, and so Pig shrugged and went on his way.
“gently caress.” said Lizard, “You going to that party, Rock? I don't think I should.”
Two days after quitting, Lizard's throat was sore and his hands felt half-asleep.
After spending the day commiserating with Rock, Lizard noticed Cow making her way down a nearby path, the cigarette in her mouth glowing against a darkening sky. Cow, feeling Lizard's gaze, looked his way and gave a quick smile. Lizard hopped off Rock and wandered over.
“Hello brother Cow! Mind if I bum one of those?”
Cow nodded, swallowing her cud to speak “Everyone calls me brother, I don't get it.” she said, handing him a cigarette “I heard you were trying to quit. Not that it's- I mean, you know.”
“Yeah, I'm trying to." said Lizard. "Not buying my own. Who told you?”
“Oh, I couldn't say. I mean, I don't remember. I wish you wouldn't call me brother, though. I had a good talk about it last night, Pig had a party.”
“Ah, Pig told you. Okay.” Lizard held out the cigarette “You're right though, I shouldn't. It's just hard. Only been two days.”
Cow awkwardly took her cigarette back, mumbling an apology mixed with a goodbye, and continued on her way.
“Well that sucked.” said Lizard to Rock, after cow had disappeared into the night “Did you hear any of that? I'm heading home.”
Three days after quitting, Lizard didn't care about how crummy he felt, he just wanted a smoke.
And so he made his way not to Rock that morning, but to the gas station near his place. Not halfway there, Lizard found himself suddenly in the mouth of Crow, rising urgently back into the sky.
“Thorry,” said Crow “nuffing persugal.”
Thousands of years later, some beaver drops the stub of his still smoldering menthol onto the back of Rock, where Lizard used to lie. Rock, thinking “gently caress it” smokes it straight down to its filter.
|# ¿ May 27, 2013 05:41|
In with this lucky fellow http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Hall_%28lighthouse_keeper%29
|# ¿ May 28, 2013 15:56|
Henry Hall, 1775, died from injuries he sustained after molten lead fell into his throat while he was looking up at a burning lighthouse. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Hall_%28lighthouse_keeper%29
How it Stands There (630)
I lived with a dead man for a month when I was forty. I don't remember his name, but I remember his smell. He died while the ocean was wild with God's wrath, and no one could get to me and I couldn't leave. I ran the lighthouse myself, and when men came we threw him in the ocean. The smell would burn behind my eyes and take root as a taste in the back of my throat. It stayed for a while, after he was gone. Since then it was always three of us in the tower.
“I always thought three was too many.” I say.
“Don't speak, Henry” says doctor Spry.
I should have said “Throw me in the sea” but I close my eyes and die before I can.
The first lighthouse built on the Eddiston rocks didn't last five years. It was called Winstanly Tower, after Henry Winstanly. So proud he was of her, he wished for the fiercest storm that ever blew. Of course he was obliged. God destroyed that tower with Winstanly himself inside, leaving no trace of the man or his mark except some holes in the Eddiston filled with iron and lead. My lighthouse lived nearly to fifty, and God had nothing to do with her end.
“Ninety four years and fit as a fiddle,” doctor Spry is telling someone “Mostly. He's lived five days, if you can believe it. Are you awake, Henry?”
“What's your name?” I ask him.
“I'm your doctor, Edmund Spry.”
“Edmund. Eddie, if you like. Don't speak any more.” Everything fades and I must be dead.
I loved a woman
I loved a woman, we met in the fiercest storm that ever blew
I loved a woman, she lived in a seashell on ocean's floor
She birthed three children all at once two for her and one my son
I named him, but there are no names left but mine and the Eddystone
I outlived my boy and the children of my wife and my wife
They wait for me in the fires of heaven
the fires of the last of Eddystone's light
“He's still breathing.” says the Eddystone “Henry, be still!”
“I'm sorry!” I say “I'm sorry!”
Three men were working the Eddystone when she caught, it wasn't enough.
I was dreaming and another of us woke me
I was at the top of her hearing her screaming and dying and showing ships the way
We three left her all at once two were spared and I looked up
So hot she was her tears came down as metal and I caught one in the back of my throat and died.
And hid from embers and waves in the womb the rock herself. And we grasped damp, gnashing rope one hand after the next forever. And I tore myself completely from the Eddystone onto some ship, knowing I was dead. Here to some weak bed I cannot leave, filled with iron and lead.
“This hospital wouldn't live through ONE wave!” I cough, my mouth wet with metal “God is in the sea! Throw me in the sea! I won't drown, and this won't kill me either! This is nothing! The Eddystone lives in me, throw me back! Give me a torch and throw me back! I'll light the way myself!” Light is pouring out my mouth, there's a corpse in the room with me, I can smell him. The Lighthouse puts her hands on me.
My arms are cold, my legs are cold. My mouth is warm, and my eyes
Vision turns to pattern and blackens down
Sound grows cold, the sea grows calm
I swim a while away.
|# ¿ Jun 3, 2013 03:58|
I live in Richmond, Virginia.
|# ¿ Sep 20, 2013 12:07|
“How about Thai?”
“Not really, not diner food anyway. Look something up, something new?”
“Alright. Before I do though, hey, Brad, man, you having any food thoughts over there?”
“Alright, I'll just google 'local Richmond restaurants' then.”
“Cool, go nuts.”
“You ever been to Kuba Kuba?”
“Yeah, it's good. Nnnnnneh.”
“Don't Look Back?”
“Hipster tacos. That's seriously all they do. What else.”
“Tacos are good.”
“Yeah, they do yummy tacos. What else.”
“Okay, this place has five stars... 'Where It Is,' an ethical, home ready fusion of fried vegan and beard tattoos all on one convenient truck.”
“Bring a treat for our truck cat, Knucklebone!”
“Is that for real?”
“Of course, dude. It has five stars.”
“We should just buy groceries.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah, gently caress it, Brad's right. Let's make something for once.”
The car starts, which is cool, and the drive is easy. We pass nineteen bicycles and four helmets.
“You forgot bikes.”
“In your made up RVA food truck. There should have been 'air for your tires free with every purchase over seven dollars.' Or no, 'included if you remember to tip.'”
“That place was real, dude. It had a tumblr.”
“Yeah well, I think we should make tacos.”
“We could just go get tacos?”
“Tacos. Let's make tacos. Let's go in.”
The inside of Kroger made us squint. We grabbed a basket and took the door towards produce.
“I shoulda given that guy some money.”
“I dunno. It's a weird thing.”
“We're making tacos and that guy doesn't have a bed.”
“gently caress that. Your food truck needs something about ignoring the homeless. And it should sell cupcakes and whimsical beer and all the workers should get payed below minimum wage and have good-looking degrees and be thirty.”
“Yeah, okay. That truck was real though.”
“And they should all have beards! Even the women! And smell bad! And worry about what everyone thinks of them instead of just being alive and updating facebook when they could just-”
A glittering green mist flew towards the ceiling, spreading above us with a loud WHOMP. Colorful light bounced off the floor and hued the vegetables. Geometric chunks of Brad spun violently around us. A sound like wind whipped through our skin; CHILL OUT. THIS IS A FUN CREATIVE LITTLE SLICE OF A CITY SMATTERED WITH TREES AND TRACES OF LIVES LIVED FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS. WE WERE BORN TO DIE HERE, THIS IS OUR PLACE. THE LOCAL MUSIC SCENE IS PRETTY SWEET.
“You chill out Brad, jeez. I was just venting.”
“Yeah dude, two wrongs don't make a right on this one.”
We brush bits of Brad off our clothes and make our way through the panicked crowd to the frozen meats. Behind us, a stinky white girl with a red and white ink owl on her beard soundlessly slips a bottle of wine into her backpack.
Horrible Butts fucked around with this message at 04:00 on Sep 23, 2013
|# ¿ Sep 23, 2013 03:58|
|# ¿ Dec 8, 2021 19:47|
|# ¿ Oct 8, 2013 06:10|