Which Witch Way Sandwitch Witchenton

            “Did you find the tape of mom?” Ashely asked her boyfriend. They were both in the dusty attic of Ashley’s late grandmother. Ashely’s boyfriend Ronaldo was on the other side of the attic looking through cobweb infested boxes.

            “Oh. You know, I did find exactly what we came up here for, but I thought that we were having so much fun that I would just prolong leaving the hot and humid attic. Who doesn’t like to spend their entire Saturday looking through hundred year old boxes,” Ronaldo called back to her.

            “I’m going to take that as a no.”

            “No, I seriously already found it.” Ronaldo held up a tape and laughed. “I’ve just been waiting, so that I could make that joke.”

            “Are you serious?”

            “Never.”

            Ronaldo moved over to Ashely and placed the tape into her hand. The black edges of it, which had once been sharp were now dull, giving the tape an oval shape. “You’re an asshole,” Ashely said finally.

“I found the tape like 30 seconds into being up here. There were just more interesting things in these boxes.” Ronaldo held up a box of antique hand mirrors. “See?”

            “You were more interested in mirrors, then you were in leaving the hot attic?”

            Ronaldo handed Ashely, a particularly interesting hand mirror, but the mirror portion was covered with black marker. As he handed her more hand mirrors, they were all covered in black marker. ‘”Are you sure that isn’t interesting? Why would your grandmother do this?”

            Ashely held up one of the hand mirrors to her face and studied it. It seemed as though someone hand used the oil from their skin to write a number on each of the mirrors. “Do you see the number?” She held the mirror at just the right angle, so that Ronaldo could see the greasy number on the mirror.

            “One,” he said.

            “What do you think it means?”

            Ronaldo strained his neck, so that he could look at the rest of the mirrors, and each of them had a number ranging from one to ten. “I’m assuming it is a rating?”

            “A rating for old hand mirrors? Does that really make sense in your head?”

            “How about a sequence?”

            “That makes more sense.” Ashely licked her finger and rubbed the mirror. The black ink was barely able to come off.

Ronaldo pulled an old civil war era dress from one of the boxes. “How old did you say your grandmother was?”

“I think she was 67 when she gave birth to my mom,” Ashely said absently.

Ronaldo searched through another box of things and pulled from it a picture. “She doesn’t look that old.”

“She always looked really young.” Ashely finally wiped the last bit of ink off of the mirror to reveal a ghastly face. “This isn’t a mirror at all.” The two of them stared at the mummified corpse burned into the silver of the reflective surface. “Who would make something like this?”

“Witches, vampires, werewolves, generic villains of some kind,” Ronaldo said.

Ashely wiped the ink off of three of the other mirrors and they revealed similar terrified faces. “I feel like I recognize some of these faces.”

“How did your grandma die?” Ronaldo said as he pulled an old Egyptian headdress from another box.

“She died in a car accident that caused her to be hideously burned.”

“What if she was a witch?”

Then someone started to come up the stairs to the attic. Before someone emerged, then pushed their hand into the opening and tossed up an antique hand mirror. “That isn’t funny mom.”

“It wasn’t your mom,” someone called from the stairs.

Ashely lifted up the mirror and it had the terrified face of her mother on it. Ronaldo jumped up and closed the hatch. “This is exactly what I had in mind for my Saturday.”

A hand punched through the portion of the door and unlocked it, allowing the hatch to fall back open and the stair to unfurl. Ashely’s grandmother walked up the steps, looking somehow younger than Ashely. It was still clearly her. “Miss me?”

“You are alive?” Ashely’s grandmother held up a mirror, and it sucked Ashely’s body into it. It left a glowing white aura that wrapped around the crazy woman, making her even younger.

Ronaldo jumped up instinctively, and dived through the rotting boards that covered the top most window on the house. He survived the fall, but it snapped both of his legs in half. He was not going to be able to run away. Ashley’s grandmother jumped from the newly opened hole and landed effortlessly next to Ronaldo.

“I can’t use your life force. Too bad you and Ashely didn’t have kids.” She yanked a long knife from her sock and descended on him with no regard for who was watching.  

Silly Putty Saturday! Candy idea!

This is my silliest idea yet. How about a cowboys in the shape of a hat that just hold taffy that's in the shape of a hat. You can put felt on the outside and if you get too hungry in the sun, you can pop open your hat and have some taffy. When the taffy is all gone, you have a canister in the shape of something like a cowboy hat that you can store things in and wear on your head if you want!

The Devil came to the Register

Your music was hard to hear, but you knew to stay true to yourself that you shouldn’t take deals with the Devil. Lots of artists thought that it was socially acceptable to make deals with the Devil, but you were above doing things like that.

            “No thank you,” you said nicely. The Devil left unexpectedly without saying another thing, and you realized how easy it was to get rid of the Devil. The next lady in line came up. She was an older lady, but she seemed rather nice. She smelled like butterscotch.

            “I can’t believe you turned down the Devil, so easily. You must have divine gifts. I work for the Great Otherworldly Deity, or G.O.D. as you know him. If you feel so inclined, you should come to our base of operations.” The lady didn’t buy anything, and you were left to do your job, no longer bothered by crazy people who wanted your music.

            Eight hours later, you found yourself back at your apartment, still listening to your crappy album, wishing just a tiny bit that you had taken the Devil’s offer, but you realized that bo matter what, it would probably end badly for you. You were lying in your bed, daydreaming about the future, when you got the hankering for chocolate milk. You jumped from your bed and made your way to your fridge. You opened it with a sudden click, and a heavenly light poured out from the inside of the fridge. What initially took the shape of a fridge seemed to have morphed into a small pearly gate.

            “Come to us,” an angelic choir sung to you.

            “I just wanted some chocolate milk,” you said angrily. You moved through the fridge, careful not to knock the pudding onto the floor of your apartment. You ascended up a flight of glowing white stairs until you were standing in front of a blue door with angel wings etched into it. The older lady garbed in gold and white armor opened the door and gestured for you to enter. You entered a planning room with a hologram of the Devil in the center of the room. There were a couple of other people in the room who were wearing similar armor as the older woman.

            “You’ve seen the Devil in the flesh,” she said.

            “You were there,” You said simply.

            “But you were able to disregard the Devil’s charm, which seems to be a complete impossibility for a mortal. This means that you are either partially a demon or you are partially an angel. Or some otherworldly creature.”

            “So?”

            “So you can kill the Devil with powers that are that strong!” Another person moved over to you, she gestured with a tongue dispenser for you to open your mouth. Then she took DNA from your mouth. Another armor wearing person grabbed your hand, pricked it, and gathered your DNA into a tiny shred of paper.

            “When are you going to know?”

            The older woman moved towards a large computer as the other armor wearing angels placed your DNA into a canister in the back of t. It whirled and spun, causing your salvia and blood to mix together. The results came up on the screen. 0% angel. 0% demon.

            “This is impossible,” the older woman said. She stroked her chin and considered for a second. “Run a secondary creature scan.” The results appeared rather slowly on the screen. 0% unicorn. 0% leprechaun. 0% centaur. 50% lumberjack. “I thought all of the lumberjacks were killed off by the Devil.”

            “Lumberjacks aren’t mythological…” you said.

            “Jack cut down a bean stalk to kill a giant. A lumberjack saved little red riding hood and her grandma from a wolf. Lumberjacks are the only heroes of myth. A lumberjack is the only person that can stop the Devil with the holy ax.”

            “You are kidding right?” You said.

            “Have you ever met your father?”

            “No, but that is hardly the point.”

            “Your father must be the last lumberjack in existence. That is amazing,” the woman said.

            You rolled your eyes. “Where is this holy ax?”

            “It isn’t in this version or reality. We will have to warn other versions of ourselves with music,” the woman said.

            “You can’t be serious.”

            “I’m never not serious.”

Brain Train of Thought Bubble

Can't write huh? You have a hard time getting passed the blank page massacre? Blank pages are the worst, and they are really intimidating. The thing is a lot of the time, I'm not really sure where I want to go next. Whether if this a problem caused by my inability to focus or not is up for debate. The thing is, its hard to advance a story with particular characters, even if you really know the characters well. What you can try to do is write a story in a different genre to explore the elements of the character that aren't really evident in the story they are currently in. For instance, I write superhero novels with characters I know very thoroughly. Sometimes, I just pretend that my characters are teenagers that meet in a chat room, just so I can get a dialogue going between them.

Wack Wednesday: Light Bright

The sun is really bright, and the portion of my house where the dinning room is seems to be on the side of the house where the sunlight is stupidly bright. So, usually I close the blinds so that it doesn't blind me. Which might be why they are called blinds, so you don't get blind. Why don't we make really expensive blinds that can absorb potential solar power. This was when I close the blinds, I'm not just stopping myself from going blind, but I'm also absorbing power for when the lights go out, and I can use that power to see in the dark. Why not? There doesn't have to be that much reserve power, and this would introduce the usefulness of solar power to people that aren't easily convinced.

Midnight Warrior: Mid-Knight War?

Midnight Warrior

I listen to the ticking that comes from the shadows

I stare at the red light puncturing the dark with its evil

I feel the soft hug that keeps me warm in the cold

I taste the peppermint mist that comes before a storm

I smell the breath of another being

Creeping closer with each moment

I fight the urge to move into the night

I stare at the glow until I can fight it no more

The Sandman has won probably forever and over again

Running out of Time 6

More bookness!

Ketchup punched a nearby tree and it launched into the sky, but as if pulled back by rubber bands, the tree fell back into its spot. “Is that what you are thinking about? Your dumb brain sees all of this.” Ketchup motioned to the broken world surrounding them. “And you honestly wonder how I am keeping muscle mass. Does that seem like it matters anymore?”

            I looked around at the messed up world. “Seems like a fair question from my perspective.” Ketchup punched me square in the nose, just like Anthony had.

            “Everything is at stake. What is making you act like this is nothing?”

            “Does time travel just make you an asshole?” I asked as I rubbed my nose.

            “Do you realize how bad this is? You are going to die!” Ketchup put her head into her hands, while rubbing her eyebrows. It was then that I realized she was wearing the shoes, and they were stained with blood. I had just seen my future self, and his shoes had not been stained with blood. That meant something happened to me directly after that.

            “What happened to me? Where did I go?” I asked.

            Ketchup stood, and the chair floated into the sky, back to where it had come from. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore. I want to hold onto the future, and I can’t do that while you are here. Don’t come back.” She stumbled forward and continued up the sidewalk into the tree. I had no choice but to follow her. She was the only thing that could give me answers. If I was going to die, then I wanted to know how. Really, who wouldn’t want to know how they die, except for mostly everyone.

            “Wait!” I screamed. I hesitantly stepped onto the vertical strip of sidewalk and slowly made my way up the tree. The sidewalk continued into the sky, giving me strange feeling like my stomach was trying to crawl up my throat.

            “I said I don’t want to talk to you,” she said as she vanished into the sky. She moved between two fluffy clouds like they were saloon doors. It was strange because when I looked down, it looked like I had only moved thirty feet into the sky. As I moved through the wispy doors, she vanished even further, almost swallowed by the orangeness.

            My immediate thought was to run after her. As my feet moved under me, the sky turned from sky burnt orange to sky blue. The sun, which had been chasing the moon haphazardly around the horizon, situated itself directly above me, becoming fixed in one place. Then before I knew it, the side disintegrated under my feet.

Texas Shoot'em: Short Story Sunday

            Watching older guys play poker was truly exciting. Probably the most exciting thing in the entire world. This is of course sarcasm. I hate being young and only being able to watch them play Texas Hold’em. It’s like when you get to go into a casino, but you have to get a bracelet, and be escorted to the restaurant at the back. Basically, if you are young, you don’t get to anything fun. “Oh, sorry Sarah, but you can’t have any of this. It’s for adults.”

            My grandpa played poker with his buddies every Saturday night, and sometimes since my mom had to work, I had to go with him .They usually played at their buddy TJ’s house. His house was really big, and it overlooked a lake. I had created a bunch of silly thoughts about how I would get to play, but none of my plans worked. Probably because I was too young to think of a great idea.

            I was sitting in the living room, watching them play in the dining room. For the most part the building had an open floor plan, so I could easily see what they were doing. Behind the table where they were playing poker was a door to the garage. Then directly in front of me was the glass door that lead to the balcony that overlooked the lake.

            This particular day, one of the four core guys had invented and older olive skinned man to the weekly poker game. His wallet was made of thin leather, but I could still see the huge bulge in his back pocket. The five of them seemed to be betting lot of money. I could see that they had at least five grand on the table.

            “Goddamn! You better not be cheating me,” The olive skinned man said. I could tell that he was worried about something, because he seemed more concerned about the door to garage than he did about the cards in his hand. It was whatever. Different people played poker in different ways.

            I went to the bathroom which was opposite the dining room on the house. I had to go through TJ’s bedroom, so that I could get to the bathroom. His dog was locked up in a kennel in the corner of the room. I though his name was Opal or Ruby. As I pulled my pants down, I heard a large boom. It sounded like a large piece of wood being dropped on a rocky surface.

            There was a piece of decorative soap on the back of the toilet. I grabbed it and tossed it at the door. The small piece of soap smashed into the light switch and flipped the lights off. I jumped up, pulling my pants back on, and slipped into the linen closet. I could vaguely hear someone shouting, but I remained exactly where I was. All of that day dreaming seemed to be paying off. The door to the bathroom opened suddenly, and the light flicked back on.

            “No one’s in here boss,” A man said in a slurred voice. The light was turned back off and the door closed. Slowly, I moved out of the linen closet. I slithered towards the door, opened it, and moved ever so slightly into TJ’s room.

            “Well well well. Looks like little old Rick has found himself some poker buddies. Rick, you keen on screwing us over. You owe us about 50 grand,” I moved around the corner of the room, just so I was able to see about three black garbed men standing in the dining room. One of those guys was digging through the refrigerator. Another one of the guys was holding a gun to the back of Rick’s head. There was another guy standing at the steps to the basement.

            “What do you want? I’m just trying to play a game of poker with my new friends,” Rick spat at the black garbed man sitting across from him.

            “Is this your new crew? You think you can just ditch us?” The man said as he twiddled with his gun. There was a part of me that hardly thought this was possible. It was the feeling I sometimes got just before I sunk a half-court shot. That feeling where you don’t honestly think what’s happening is possible.

            “I don’t need a new crew. You are my crew,” Rick said. My grandpa and his three buddies were silent.

            “We were your crew.”

            I moved into the living room, concealing myself sneaking with the couch. There was a deck of playing cards sitting on the side table that I grabbed. I had been told that I could ‘play’ with them. I took the cards out of the box and stayed hidden behind the couch.

            “I told you that I’d give you your money,” Rick said.

            “We decide we are going to take your lungs instead. Tiny over there thinks it’ll be better than $50,000. What do you think? You only really need one lung.” The man at the fried who was the largest, smiled at Rick. He was obviously Tiny.

            “You can’t be serious. I’m your most valuable asset.”

            “Again, you were.”

            I pulled a single card from the deck, and held the corner between my index and middle fingers. “This can’t be happening,” I said to myself. I threw the card through the air, and it slammed into the back of one of the goon’s heads. The card stuck into the fat of his neck. The man let his gun fall from the back of Rick’s head, and it slammed into the floor.

            “The hell are you doing?” The head goon asked.

            Blood started to run down fat goon’s neck. “I just got hit by something,” he said.

            I rolled under the kitchen table, grabbing the gun in the process. Fat goon was too distracted to see me. I jumped up on the other side of the table, pointing the gun at the head honcho. I had only seen action movie characters hold guns, but I felt intimidating.

            “Looks like we’ve got a hero,” the head man said. It drew the attention of his goons. “If you shoot that glock, it will surely dislocate your arm or worse. So, consider your shot wisely.” Tiny lined up a shot, and he could have easily taken me out, but the head goon gestured for him to lower his gun. I grabbed a handful of hundred dollar bills off of the table and moved towards the sliding glass door. I twisted my arm around my back to open it, but it was locked. “Nowhere to run.”

            “I can still kill you,” I said to the head honcho.

            “Go ahead, but my goons will kill you and everyone here, right after that.”

            “They can try,” I said with a hitch in my voice.

            I lined my shot up, getting parallel with the glass door, and I shot the center piece on the table. The fax fruit exploded into tiny shrapnel, and the gun’s recoil, caused the gun to slam into the glass of the door and smashed the glass. As the shrapnel fell to the table, the head honcho gestured for his goon’s to shoot at me. He was surprised to see me standing on the balcony.

            “Kill her,” he said. I leapt off of the balcony as I heard the bang of several guns. I was heading headfirst to the water.

Silly Saturday: Retail Business Idea

Business are boring. Discounts are awesome. People love discounts! You are a people! So, I've been thinking, how about I open up a business that just sells things similar to what Wal-Mart or Target sells. Maybe even a Dollar General or Pound Store. Just a store that sells items. Then when you get up to the front of the line, you have the choice to go through THE FUN LINE or the NORMAL LINE. The normal line will just check you out, which is boring but necessary. Because let's face it, plenty of people are boring. The Fun Line will be like a little quiz show. Only about three questions. For every question you get right you get another portion of a discount. One question and you get 20% off an item. Two questions correct and you get 50% off your most expensive item. Three questions right and you can get 30% off your entire purchase. If you are able to get all three questions right, you can throw away your discounts and spin the wheel of mayhem! It's 100 spaces on a wheel with varying degrees of discounts and prizes. A single space on that wheel will be EVERYTHING IS FREE! But 5 portions of the wheel will be NO DISCOUNT!

Wheeling and Dealing Devil

I “Deal or no deal?” The Devil asked. She slid the contract off of the table and set a briefcase onto your counter. The people standing in line lifted up another set of cases each with a different letter burned into the side. You just realized that you were on a game show. You were on Wheeling and Dealing Devil. How had you never noticed before? It was so clear. You weren’t a cashier. This was just how every episode of the show opened.

            “All you have to do is pick a case. You have a chance at winning back your soul! One of the cases has an even better soul inside of it! Are you ready to play Wheeling and Dealing Devil?” You were so excited. This was the first time that you had ever been on a game show!

            “I’ll take the 666 case.” An older lady from the cashier line moved up to the register and handed you the silvery case.

            “You picked the 666 case, so you get to spin the WHEEL of UNFORTUNE! Do you know how this works?” The Devil asked you. You nodded your head excitedly. “Then spin the wheel!”

            You grabbed the wheel and spun it around. Shrunken head. Knife covered in blood. Blood Star.  $10,000. Shrunken head with a blood star! The wheel stopped spinning, and it landed on blood star. “I can’t believe this!” You screamed.

            “It’s time for the round of judgement! All you have to do is pick from three sets of two people, and decided which of the set had the largest amount of evil inside them.” The Devil gestured to a screen behind you that you didn’t remember being there.

            The first set of pictures was Hitler on one side and on the other side was Betty White. “You can’t really think this is difficult?”

            “Remember that if you get one of them wrong. You have to fight Cerebos in the eternal pit of flame,” The Devil said. The studio audience cooed at the idea. No one ever one a fight against Cerebos.

            “Hitler obviously!” The pictures flashed green and moved onto another set of pictures. The next set was of Cleopatra and Alexander the Great. That was an actual tough choice. You looked at both pictures. “Cleopatra!” You screamed. The pictures flashed green again and moved onto the next set. The last set was two pictures of you. That was interesting. One of them seemed to be a live feed of you looking at the pictures right that instance, and the other picture looked like you wearing a shiny glove holding a weird green ghost. “What is this?” You asked as you turned to the Devil.

            “This is two versions of you. One of them is eviler than the other. Pick one,” The Devil said with a Devilish smile.

            “There are two versions of me?” You asked.

            “There are many versions of every person and thing including me. This is but one world of many. Pick carefully.”

            You look at the two pictures. You are inclined to believe that you aren’t the eviler of your two versions, but you aren’t actually sure. “The other one is the evil one.”

            The Devil laughed. “Indeed he is. What were the odds? Now, solve the puzzle on the side of the briefcase, and you could win your soul back.” There was a puzzle cube on one end of the brief case, which looked impossible to solve. “If you are unable to solve the puzzle in 60 seconds, then we take you straight to Hell! Go.” You saw that the case had an almost unperceivable etching of the horrified faces of what you thought may be its victims. You slid the puzzle one direction, and what was once a cubic puzzle turned into a triangular puzzle. You contained your breath and slide the puzzle around again, revealing a keyhole behind the rectangular puzzle. You pulled off the rectangular portion of the puzzle, and it morphed into a a key.

            Just as the last precious seconds were ticking away, you pressed the key into the hole. “Congratulations!  You just unlocked one of your souls! Now, I’m going to take your current one.” The Devil opened her toothy mouth and sucked your soul into her mouth. As the light flickered away from your soul, the soul from within the briefcase moved into your body. Initially, you came back online, screaming. You felt different, but you were still the same. Like the same recipe made by two different people. You were happy to see that you weren’t about to be killed by an ax. At the very least that was nice. “Now, you can pick a door! Any door! Choose carefully again.”

            “Where am I?” You asked.

            “Where aren’t you? Pick a door.” The Devil smiled at you.

Muscly Fingers make for Strong Writing: Exercise

Unconventional writing exercise again. So, you have a story that you just finished? Seems pretty awesome to have written the end at the end of some writing. Now, you don't know what to do? I bet as I sometimes wonder, if there is a chance that this story can have a sequel. This exercise will have you write a snippet about the main characters of your story a decade in the future. By doing this you can see where a character ends up. You get to scope out how their relationships with other characters get fleshed out and why. And you can pursue the concept of conflict after the major conflict has already happened. If there is a possibility of conflict, then perhaps you can pursue a story afterwards. Ten years is a long time.

Wacky Wednesday: Smokin' Spade

This is a serious idea. Know how there's like snow shovels that let you scoop up snow? Know how there's sometimes ice that is hard to cut with your snow shovel. So, in the style of a warmed butter knife, this idea is to create a heated snow shovel, so that you can scoop up snow easier. This would cause the bottom layer of the snow to become melt, so that it slides up onto of the shovel. Making it easier to scoop up snow, so that you can clear a path for you. On top of that, let's make a heated ice scraper. We can sell them as a set.

Mayo of Burgah Tahown: Prequel?

I'm thee Mayo of Burgah Tahown
I live inside a cottage cheese
In my spare time, I do what I please
Jalapeno, the fire fighter
Goes to Club Sandwich to induce some laughter
In the crowd is Swisserli, the holey man
With his chicken, Nugget, perched on his hand
Patty and Bacon, the newly engaged
Talk quietly to Parsley the sage
They are getting married in the Mush Room
In the fabled Pizza Inn
Sage thinks its a saucy win
With the sage's help, they'll tie the garlic knot
This is better than I could have ever thought
Today's so great, I'll plant a mustard seed
As their love grows, so will the mustard tree
With some help from some mustard bees
They'll have so honey mustard, see?
I go back home to my cottage cheese
Sit with my hotdog, Chili Jeeves
This was a good day in Burgah Tahown
I made sure no Burgahs frowned.

Running out Time 6

I went to speak, but I caught an image flickering in the corner of my eye. It was Ketchup and I sitting in the chairs we were currently in. “So it was me,” the image of me said.

            My ketchup responded. “He is just like you. Except he received a different set of powers, which caused an entirely different set of circumstances to play out for him. You are your mortal enemy.” Just like if I was a teenager. I need time to grow and space to mature.

            My eyes were drawn to Ketchup. He face looked exactly like her profile picture, which had been a simple headshot. It didn’t do her hazel eyes justice, but her real life eyes were similar enough that she was easily identifiable. What I hadn’t expected was that she was at least 6’2 and here arms were the size of boa constrictors. It wouldn’t have been so obvious if she didn’t have a sleeveless shirt on. Was that a bloody thumbprint on her bicep? I couldn’t tell. It almost looked like it was smiling at me. As if to say, “I’m a thumbprint, isn’t that interesting.”

            “Are you paying attention? This is important,” Ketchup said, or at least I thought she had said it. I was too busy looking at the bloody thumbprint.

            “No. It really isn’t that interesting.” Once I realized what I had done, I adverted my eyes and muttered, “Sure.”

            “What was the last thing I said?” She said as her face morphed into a scowl.

            “My other self was a space case?”

            Ketchup let out a long drawn out sigh. She dug into her sleeveless shirt pocket. From it she pulled a cube, which she blew at me. Following the illogical gravity, the cube floated over to me. I was so caught off guard by whether or not she was blowing me a kiss, that it hit me square in the chest.

            “What is this?”

            “Look at it really closely,” she said.

            I held the cube up to my eye, and I noticed that it was hollow on the inside. On the interior it looked like it had been painted by a guy setting off paint grenades in an apartment. Some of the wall splatters looked familiar. Then I suddenly realized that it was a very tiny version of my apartment. Maybe an ameba could live in this version of my apartment. That would be a strange deal to run. “Come one come all. One for ya. One for an ameba.”

            “What am I looking at?” It was still entirely possible that I was looking at the apartment for little ameba Greg. I assumed that he didn’t have to deal with the apocalypse chick.

            “He tried to kill you by miniaturizing your apartment. I don’t know when it happens, but you barely make it out of there alive.”

            Something was really bugging me. I was ready to believe that I had been selected by time to fight space crime. I was even okay with the shoes allowing me to travel through time. Perhaps, I was even ready to believe that by some miracle Ketchup was in love with me. “How are you staying so ripped if gravity barely works?”

Right the Fight to Right the Light Fight

“The Darkness is moving closer,” Captain Light said. We had been running from the shadows for eternity as they slowly overtook the universe. The shadows were always going to take the universe back, and now that Time and Space had lost their battle, the shadows had a chance to take over. We once had a third member to our group, Mace, but he was swallowed by the shadows. It had easily dissolved his bones, turning him into a mixture of red and white paste on the floor.

            We moved around the room. We had found a place that kept the darkness at bay. The room was circular with large purple candles on four sides of the room. Someone had set up a chicken coup in the room itself, given us access to a food source. On top of that, it didn’t seem like the chickens ate food. It was more like they absorbed the light from the candles.

            Our worry was that the candles had almost completely burned out, and we didn’t have much further that we could retreat. The universe was being enveloped by the darkness in all directions, collapsing inwardly onto the spot we were currently at. Once the candles went out, the last living beings in the world would torn apart by shadows.

            “What do you think we should do?” I asked Captain Light. He had once been called Captain Light, but now his light had been worn thin. He had worn it on his wrist to light a way through the darkness.

            “There’s not much that we can do. The shadows were always going to get us. It just looks like it will be sooner than we expected.” Captain Light moved towards the center of the circular room, sat down, and pulled his knees to his chest. The last portion of the candles were going to burn out. Now, they were flickering, their purple light becoming less strong. The shadows were pushing through the purple light. I moved towards Captain Light and sat directly next to him, pulling my knees to my chest similarly.

            “I joined your team, because you are my hero,” I said to him quietly.

            “I know,’ he said back with a weak smile.

            “I thought that it would be amazing to join a superhero team. You were on the side of cereal boxes,” I said. I moved a little bit closer to him as the shadows pushed through the last portion of flickering purple light. The shadows were seeping forward like black lava, bubbling towards us.

            “Think whoever takes over will remember us?” Captain Light asked. It was the first time that his voice had ever cracked in my recollection. It was probably the best time for his voice to crack. No one was around to hear fear strangle his voice away.

            “I hope so,” I said. The lava got close enough that I could smell its sweet smell. Captain Light pulled a small sphere from his wrist canister and handed it to me.

            “This is my last light sphere. I want you to have it. Hold it in your hands, and it will keep the darkness away.” He pressed the orb into my hands, and edged closer to the dark shadows.

            “You should use it,” I said back as I attempted to press it back into his hand. He pushed my hand away.

            “Once in a while, the student should be valued over the master. I’ve had a long enough life basking in the light. It’s your turn now.” The shadow touched the edge of his cape and melted it into liquid. “Never let the light go out.” The shadows reached forward and pulled Captain Light into its depths. I didn’t really feel the instant grief that I had when Mace had been killed. I smashed the light into the floor, and it shimmering with bright white light. It kept the shadows just out of reach, and it brought warmth to the otherwise cold world. I was unsure how long it would stay bright, but as the last living person in the world, I wanted to stay alive to keep up the legacy.

            The light started to flicker almost as quickly as it had pushed the darkness away. The darkness moved closer, and I attempted to smash the orb on the ground. It burst into a luminescent powder that coated my body. As I moved towards the darkness, it moved away from my glowing hand. I was now the light. The hope to return light to the world was now all mine.

Silliest Saturday! TIME Traveling Salesmen

This is an idea for a TV show. So, this man travels through time selling more time! Like more time to do things and to live. Except he isn't a very good salesmen. The point of the story, is that he tries to explanation the benefits of living longer, and he travels to different times but in chemical order. The point is that, he is attempting to sell portions of of his immortality, so that he can die!

Cinnamon ice cream with the Devil

I. "You honestly don't think that I've never been warned about this? There's like a thousand country songs about the Devil, comic books, operas, and countless short stories! You are in the bible being a jerk! What makes you think that I will take this deal?" That's right. You just told off the Devil. You've had to deal with your crappy boss long enough that no amount of the Devil's shenanigans are going to make you crack. You work retail, you deal with customers! Those are people who are entitled!
     "Don't you have something that you really want. More than anything? I can offer you any amount of things for your music." The Devil pushed the contract towards you, but you instinctively tore it in half. Almost magically, the contract reappeared in your hand.
      "Yeah. My soul is worth more than a wish that you are going to botch. It's like making a deal with a genie." You tore the contract in half again, and you threw it into the trash.
      "I get such a bad rep from an old book. I'm actually really cool. I thought that apple would be delicious! I'm not that evil!"
      You scoffed. "Yeah right. I don't buy it. Can you hurry up, there's other people in line. The Devil slid her card over to you.
      " After work, you can come over to hell N A hand basket and hang out." The Devil left with a sad look on her face, but you didn't really care. But in like six hours when your shift was almost over, you'd been worn down enough to actually go hang out with the Devil. It beat working or being alone in your apartment.
      You showed up Hell N A hand basket, and you were pleasantly suprised to see that it was an ice cream parlor and the Devil was behind the counter. "You work here?" You asked.
      "I don't just work here. I own this ice cream parlor. Pretty cool, huh?" The Devil picked up a warm scoop and swiveled it around in her hand. "Want a scoop of two?"
      You look at the ice cream flavors. Soul berry, Forbidden Fruit Punch, Chocolate Chip cookie dough, Vanilla Mean, The Dark on Fudge, Devil's Food Cake. "Can I get some Devil's Food Cake?" You ask.
      "You read that wrong. It's the Devil's Devil's Food cake. It's my own special recipe." The Devil dips up a scoop of chocolatey ice cream unto a waffle cone out for you. As you took it, you could have sworn the Devil smiled. She actually seemed pretty cool.
      As you moved the ice cream towards your mouth, there was a flash of light. Suddenly, there were two Devil's. One brandishing an ice cream scoop, and another one wielding a lumberjack's ax. Without a second thought the ax Devil sliced off your hand that was holding the ice cream. As you fell to the ground, bleeding out, you watched as the ax Devil put her ax blade first into the ice cream Devil's chest. Too bad.

Looking through the Looking Glass: Exercise

My exercises usually are non traditional. This one is going to be strange as well. I've heard the write a letter to hour character, or from one character to another idea, and I don't like it. Instead to flush out a characters fears and motivations, write a letter from them to you as if they just found out that they were imaginary. Do they feel bad? Betrayed? I'm sure they are upset that they were put through a particular thing or that they weren't, and that's your fault.

Box Car Childern: Wacky Wednesday

Shoes come in boxes? Yes? Those boxes are basically useless, but they are sturdy. And you get new shoes every once in a while. So, how about an undercarriage for a rc car that you can place the axels through a shoe box, so that you can drive a shoe box around. They joy with this is that kids can customize the box, then once they get bored with it, they'll probably be due for new shoes. It's the best recycling plan ever. Place unlike most RC cars, it would be realitvely light, so it won't break anything if they drive it inside the house!

Mayo of Burgah Tahown

I am thee Mayo of Burgah Tahown

I see to it, no Burgahs frown

Ketchup and Mustard play in the park

Listen to the hotdogs bark

Relish delivers you a news paper

Lettuce! You can be a sandwich wrapper

Sesame will cover your buns

Get 'em all toasty in the sun

Oh look a golden onion ring

Patty and Bacon are getting married after a fling

Listen to the chicken nuggets sing

It's truly an amazing day in Burgah Tahown

Can you hear the Taco Bells ring?

Salt and Fry sizzling on the beach

Looks like they got soda to drink

Dill Pickle harvests some cheese

Mozzarella sticks please?

Look at them in their buritto car

I think those little beans will go far

Especially with sour cream

Everything's a dream

When you are the Mayo of Burgah Tahown

Running out of Time 5

“Follow me.” She led me up the sidewalk, and I slowly took everything in. Time again was neither slow or fast, just very clear. There was a tree that had a tire fused in the direct center with a bit of rope hanging from the end. There was a garage that had a car fused into one side, and that same garage was fused to one side of a house. Not in the traditional sense like it was attached, but like the garage was a wart on the top of the peaking just barely from the top of the houses head, and from the top of the garage was the even smaller wart taking the shape of a blue sedan. Then as they continued down the street, the sidewalk ran up the side of a tree.

            “What is wrong with this place?” I asked. I was hoping only slightly, that we were just inside of a cartoon. It was just a very strange cartoon.

            “Space is irrelevant here.” She grabbed a tire that was lodged in a tree and yanked it out like it was just tapped on. It left a tire sized hole in the side of the tree. With a flick of her wrist, the tire floated into the sky with relative ease. “This is what happens. This is after the collision between you and him. You brought me here so that I would be safe, so far I have been.”

            “Is the him your speak so vaguely about the future version of me?” I asked. I looked into the sky and I noticed the moon and the sun pass each other quickly in the sky going in the opposite directions, but the amount of light didn’t change, even after both sources of light were gone.

            “You would never do something this terrible. This was caused by someone else.” Ketchup took a seat on a chair as it fell from the sky. With a comedic sense of timing, another chair fell, and I sat in it. She looked worried as she looked down at my sneakers. “Time and Space are…”

            The physical entities of Time and Space, taking the form of a blue wisp of smoke and a green wisp of slightly less dense fog were incapable of settling their dispute alone. Who was stronger? Both were capable of seeing infinite times while being omnipotent. The single limitation of their knowledge was who was stronger. Who was better?

            Time had used his powers for the most part on entertainment. He let things progress in chronological order, so that things could build on top of one another. Space had just grown and grown, amassing an empire of stars no matter where he was. Time and space could have picked any number of avatars to fight their battle, but neither of them thought it to be fair. Instead, they selected the same human being from two parallel timelines. This human wasn’t especially warriorlike. His only defining characteristic was that he could easily stand for what time or what space wanted. 

Muddy Murder Cloudy Judgement

     Murder?
 
      Mr. Smith, or so he had wanted to be called was particularly well groomed, but he had a spec of blood just on the side of his thumb. It was a dead giveaway that he had killed his wife. "So, Mr. Smith where were you between 10:00 and 11:00pm?"
      "Who keeps track of what they were doing between particular hours of the day? What were you doing 10:00 and 11:00pm?" Smith asked me.
      "Watching Grey's Anatomy," I said to him. "Your turn."
      "I was also watching Grey's Anatomy," Mr. Smith said back. He flipped his hair out of his eyes and laughed.
      "What channel?"
       "Netflix."
       "Are you ever going to be honest with me? I've been questioning you for hours. I can't get anything out of you. If you don't help me, I'm going to have to hold you in a cell all weekend," I said to him. I moved around him, trying to catch another droplet of blood he had missed, but he had cleaned up really well.
       "Sure. Ask me any question, but you better make it good, because I know so much," Smith said. He used his sweaty hand to write a question mark on the chrome of the table in front of him.
      "Did you kill your wife?"
      "You can ask me anything and you choose a trivial question like that?" Smith shook his head at me. "You could have asked anything!"
      "You said you'd answer."
      "True enough!" He settled down so that he was expressionless. "Nope," he said as he nodded his head.

Silly Silly Saturday: Idea for a Rom Com

Saturday, the day where I can write virtually whatever I want because, it's silly. So here's an idea for a Rom Com. Let's take two characters, we'll call them Mandy and Mandel. These two characters view their relationship has completely platonic, since they were young, and they are roommates. One of their favorite things to do is to watch really dumb Rom Coms. Really dumb ones! 

      So, one day, they decide to reenact a silly Rom Com as a silly thing to do on a Saturday. But as they play out the dumb tropes, and the cliches, they find that they are actually falling in love with each other gfor real, but they both think that they are acting. And we shall call it, Silly Saturday! Best Romedy ever.  

Devil's Food Cake? Or Food Devil cAke?

F. The deal with the Devil was still on the table for you, literally. you could hardly imagine what it was like to make a deal with the Devil, you know since you had never really seen her before. Yet, as you looked closer at the parchment, you noticed that it wasn't a deal at all. What you had thought was a deal with the Devil was actually a recipe for The Devil's Devil Food Cake. 

"What do you need me for?" You asked the Devil. Fair assessment, because you had never been very good at cooking. Every time you had made toast, you had found that you would just rip the bread when you spread the butter over it.

"I need you to harvest the souls to complete my Devil's food cake recipe, so that I can enter a baking contest," The Devil said to you with a smile. She seemed genuinely interested in being in a baking contest, but you didn't really understand why.

"Who’s holding this contest?" You asked the Devil.

"No one other than Death himself. I want to get on Death's good side."

“Why?” You asked the Devil.

“Because Death has Michael’s angel food cake recipe, and I want it, so that I can sabotage it, and prove that my cake is better.”

You look closely at the recipe, and you see that one of the ingredients is the soul of man who died in a lumberjack’s uniform. “Why can’t you do it?”

“I cannot physically take souls without them being offered to me, but I can give you the power to do it.” The Devil handed you a glove. “Once you find a lumberjack, take his soul and I will use it in my cake. Deal?”

It did sound better than your stupid retail job, but things like being tied to a log heading towards a saw. Because at least saws didn’t have reasons to be a jerk to you. A saw was just a saw. It never a saw a reason not to be a saw. Regardless, you looked right at the Devil and said, “I’ll take your bet, but you’re gonna regret, because I’m the best that’s ever been.”

“Couldn’t stop yourself, huh?”

“When was I going to get to see the Devil again.”

Later, you found yourself, just kind of chilling in the woods, hanging out in a tree, waiting for a lumberjack to just sort of stumble through the woods. What you hadn’t thought was that being a lumberjack wasn’t really a popular profession anymore. As a matter of fact, it was possible that no one was a lumberjack anymore. It could easily have been an imaginary job like a telegraph delivery person. Or lumberjack/telegraphy delivery person. As you sat there at the top most branch of the tree, you contemplated briefly whether or not there was a lumberjack named Jack, who had started the whole lumberjack thing by cutting lumber and being named Jack.

Then before you knew it, you thought you heard someone stumbling through the trees. The sound of Twigs breaking was the easiest sound in the world to identify. It was like music to your ears. You wondered if this particular lumberjack had the sound of an ax playing in his sound track, or the sounds of an ax being sharpened, or twigs snapping in his album. Maybe his album was called Got Wood?

Then you saw it, the plaid red and black shirt, the long brown beard, and the bright red end of an ax. All you needed was to take that man’s soul, so that you could make really delicious cake to steal a cake recipe from the archangel Michael. This was definitely better than work. You jumped down from the tree and landed with a thud on the forest floor.

“Here to steal my soul?” The lumberjack blatantly said.

“How did you know?” You asked.

“The Devil has been hunting lumberjacks to extinction, so that she can make her famous cake. I’m the last lumberjack in existence. When I die, there won’t be any more lumberjacks ever again. Be careful, because this ax is really sharp.” The lumberjack swung his ax and it split a tree near your head. You were starting to wonder if the Devil just didn’t want to take the lumberjack on just because he was dangerous.

The lumberjack swung his ax again, but you caught the handle with your non gloved hand. You had learned the move while catching candles that had fallen from your register. Then with your other hand you grabbed the lumberjack’s soul through his stomach. It was a slippery green thing, but it was easy to pull out like a loose thread in a sweater.

“That’s too bad,” you said. You didn’t really care. Would killing the last lumberjack in the world haunt you at night? No. It was like eating the last spicy mustard pretzel. Yeah, it was kind of a bummer, but it didn’t really affect anyone. You snapped your fingers and the Devil appeared. She looked at happy once she saw the soul squirming in your hands.

“Give me the soul!” The Devil yelled, but she had a twinge in her voice like she wasn’t going to use the soul for a cake. You could hear the sound of triumphant trumpets playing from the Devil’s head. She was tricking you.

“Why?”

“That was our deal, wasn’t it?”

“What’s the soul add to your cake?” You asked.

“It preserves the freshness!” The Devil yelled.

“Why couldn’t you just use sodium benzoate?”

“Give me the soul or I will kill you.”

“They were hunting you, weren’t they?” You just realized your terrible mistake. You moved closer to the lumberjack, but the Devil lifted up the shimmering red tipped ax.

“Choose carefully!” You moved closer, and the Devil swung the ax. You slid under the ax, and you placed the soul back inside the lumberjack. You were able to save him, but the Devil was already swinging the ax at you.

My brain is Rubber. Yours is Glue! Writing exercise!

       You know how you have an idea for a story? Ninjas in space with magic lizards made of diamonds? In the future? Well, your first idea is always the worst idea, and you need practice! Instead, you should do the exact opposite of what you were going to do. That's up to your discretion, but write if it took place in a weird opposite day world. It's good muscle builder.
      So instead, I'm going to write a story about pirates from the center of the earth with mecha fish made of cheese. Cheese is the opposite of diamonds. In the past.
      Cheese is the opposite of diamonds, because you can get cheese for cheap, and it is soft, and it tastes good, and it wouldn't look especially good on a ring, and and no one would be impressed if you had a two caret block of cheese.





























 

Butt-ery... not to be confused with Buttery. Wacky Wednesday

Wacky Wednesday!

Hey, you know how there's like geo thermal power that can power things with thermalness? I've been thinking, thermals is just another word for heat. So, we can power things with the enrgy transfer of heat? Yes? Engines are powered by mini explosions! Case closed. Now, you know how your smart phone dies every day at like 4pm? Which really sucks when you are trying to text the pope or play that new angry birds game or post a new post to your blog. So, i keep my phone in my back pocket. Birds sit on eggs to keep them warm. I sit sometimes! I'm sitting right now! Let's take the warmth of butts to power the batteries of phones! It can even be charged by your hand. When your phone isn't in your hand, its in your pocket! Warm butt thermals to charge your phone!

Say your ABCs in reverse rhyming couplets

Abcdarian in Reverse in a Bar?

Zen falsely made by gin
Your eyeing the fading door
Xit missing its Mr. E unlit
Varying tales of story telling
Unusual claims of the delusional
Theoretically, I taught Picasso asymmetry
Saved Genghis Khan when he was unbehaved
Reward me with admiration when I am bored
Quit sipping at your water with mint
Perhaps if you look, I'll have a psychic relapse
Orlando was founded on my libido, ya know?
No, you say why must I sink so low?
More history of my lore?
Lest we divulge to talk of this chest
Killed twice with three graves filled
I cannot find a way to die or even lie
Hung by the tip of my silver tongue
Granted by a lamp, I'm what you wanted
Forget your angelic sensibility, just let me be me
E is gone with S, now will you cross me?
Drive drunk with me into the night and live
Cool down with me in a a hazy pool
But what?
Anyway, Carpe Diem as they say.

Running Out of Time Part 4

Anthony’s nose started to pour blood. The blood that splattered on his shirt that was identical to the splatter on my shirt. “Gaw! I should have seen that coming. Time always does that.” Anthony laughed, then he grabbed me by the ear, and pulled me toward the store front. As we walked through the door, there was familiar chime of the bell hanging from the door. “Black Market Jones!”

“Is that his name?” I struggled out. That was a much cooler name than Ketchup, Ranch, or Victoriann. Perhaps, I’d rather spend my time with him.

“Stop thinking. It is hurting my brain. Keep your thinking at a minimum, so that I can get these shoes from Black Market Jones. Black Market Jones!”

Jones appeared from the backroom and smiled. “You summoned me?”

“You are damn right, I summoned you.” Anthony lifted his foot so that the shoes were evident on his feet.

“How did you get those?” Jones asked. He turned around, so that he could see that his version of the shoes were on the shelf behind him.

“You gave these shoes to him?” Anthony said.

“I have a name!” I shouted.

“We know stupid,” Anthony yelled. I was getting sick of Anthony calling me stupid.

            “He isn’t worthy,” Jones said as he began to walk away. Before he got too far away, he grabbed the shoes and continued.

            “It’s about time. I’m sure that you can make the space,” Anthony said. Without saying anything, Jones threw the shoes to Anthony, and he caught them both with one hand. “Thanks.”

            “You know what needs to be done. Make it quick. You are on thin ice as it is,” Jones said.

            Anthony took a knee next to me and set the shoes by my feet. “Here’s the thing. Time is running out. So, you are going to run. You need to put some distance between us, because it is the end of the line, right here. So run forward, until you bleed. You’ll be me soon enough, but that isn’t important. Go. Run. He is coming.” I hadn’t noticed, but he had slipped the shoes onto my feet while he was talking. For some reason, probably because he looked just as reliable as I did, I took his advice and ran with it, literally. As I exited the storefront, I looked back in time to see another version of me walk in. It was a me-a-polza.

            I ran down the street, everything blurring around me, until I tripped. I fell forward, the world became normal as I fell. Not my kind of normal, but apocalypse kind of normal. Everything was on fire, the buildings were windowless, and the sun was twice as bright in the sky. It seemed as though I might have gotten the hell out of there, only to be placed in that same hell. “You are so, young looking.”

Chapter Two

Time Flies

Instead of being surprised that someone had recognized me, in the post apocalypse, I was glad there was someone there for me to talk to. Nothing like having to talk to yourself during the entirety of the end of the world. I mean, I already knew all of my stories, so they would get dull really fast. Yet, this was not the first time that I had seen this face. The girl, who was leaning against a tree, lovingly stroking a shotgun was Ketchup. She moved closely, and then very quickly lifted me up and kissed me on the face. “What’s the matter? You don’t know who I am.” She set me down with her muscular arms, and she let out a short sigh. “Did you just get the shoes?” I nodded. “Unfortunate. I hate to have to explain everything to you. Did you explain everything to you?”

            That sort of hinted that the guy who had given me the shoes was actually me. “No, he just told me to run.”

            “Sounds like something you would do to yourself.” She put the shotgun on her back. 

Visible for once

     "Hey Samson," I recognized the voice, but no one was there. It sounded awfully like my my mother.

      "Where are you?" I asked her. I felt a trap on my shoulder, but still no one was there.

      "Are you playing some kind of game?" My mom said. I took a deep breath. There was a possibility that I was hallucinating. It

It had happened once before. Yesterday, I had thought I saw an elderly lady with a stick abroad my home street, but when I looked again she wasn't there.

      "No, I can't see you at all."It was best to humor the hallucinations. They never did anything wrong to me and talking to them made me feel less crazy.

      " Are you blind? Honey, don't worry. " I could feel my mother's bosom against the side of my head, but she was not there.

      "No, I just can't see you. I can see everything else."

      "What does that mean?"

      "What's Samson doing?" My father asked from across the room, but when I looked, he also was not there. I could not see either one of them.

      "What's happening?" I screamed. The scary woman with the stock appeared as she cackled.

      "When I asked you for change, you pretended like you couldn't see me, now everyone is invisible to you."

The loosest of All Threads: Silly Saturday

Back when I got bored at school, but I couldn't quite write an interesting story, I would take two things. Such as ketchup and space travel and try to link them in the most outrageous loosest ways.
For instance:
Ketchup
Tomato
Vegitable
Vegetation
Vegan
Vulcan
Pelican
Water
Hydrogen
Bomb
Fire
Fuel
Mountain Dew
Goat
Horn
Centuar
Guitar
Air guitar
Oxygen
Ozone
Space
Space travel

See? All of the things connect somehow to the one above them. Even if loosely.