After Life: Poetic Justice

I go to work at 12 or 9
At the convenience store, I wait in line
At work, I do something monotonous
Something robotic, something autonomous

This is what I do in my life
This is not what I live for all the time
There is this thing called after life
In which I use my free time

I don't work for money
It's not even really about the food
Sure, I don't need cable or electricity
I've got a job for me

I have a job, so I don't get in trouble
I have job, so my adventures double
So, I can give into temptation
In the future, so I can travel the nation
I work to enjoy what I love
Strive for something that's above
Look for the greatness hidden in the light
My job isn't work, my job is for my after life.

Cat Wizard

Cat Wizard

            A witch, more powerful than I, had turned my physical form into that of a cat. Though it is great to get love and affection from humans, I’d prefer to be in my top wizarding shape once more. I roam around this dwelling, attempting with the loudest, but yet cutest voice I can muster to summon my assistant, or my apprentice, or my scribe. All I ever get is treats. Granted these treats provide me with nourishment, and they are also delicious little fishes.

            The humans do not seem capable of comprehending my struggle back towards wizardom. They take my ever plea to be some sort of cute hint that I want a playmate. When in fact, I’d prefer nothing less than a mindless cat in my presence.

            One of the humans seems to be capable of small amounts of magic that he dispenses through a wand. His magic is only capable of producing a small beam of light, but when I see it, it gives me hope that I may acquire its source, so I chase after it. Granted every time that I do this, the magic light outruns me and I am never able to catch it. I’ve contemplated long and hard if the human knows that I am a prisoner, and deliberately tortures me with the magic he can produce as a sick form of torture.

            All of my pleas for help fail. I once knocked down these statutes placed upon a shelf onto the floor as to symbolize my torture and my fall, but instead the human yelled at me. Will, I ever be free from this curse. Perhaps if I lie on the human’s keyboard he will understand my lack in ability to communicate.

Is My Cat a Wizard 2

Swarley is his name. Sometimes, when I can't find anything to write or do, I watch him. Why, you might ask? And it is good to ask, because typically, he mostly sleeps. But sometimes, he likes to meow at the walls as if he is trying to summon a playmate. If you pick up the laser pointer, he'll come running towards you, then if you shine it, he'll run after it. Once you stop, he'll walk back up to you casually, and he'll mind will you with the saddest meows to continue playing with him. It is indeed possible to ignore him, but as I learned last night while writing blog posts, he has other means of making me play. He jumped to the top of the desk, where I keep the pop vinyls, and started very deliberately knocking them to the ground. I knew it was deliberately, because he would look at me after he did it. As if to say, "What you gonna do son?"More on this Wizard Cat in the future.

Can't Bedevil Everyone You See

T. You could easily take the music deal right then and there, but something inside your gut told you that this particular deal wasn’t about the music. Whatever the Devil was up to, it was just a front. There was no way in Hell that she would actually want your music. Unless she was going for an ironic take on what she wanted for Hell’s Elevator music. Like a ‘bore them to death’ kind of situation.

            “You don’t want the deal?” She asks yo as she pushes the contract even closer to you. You went to read more of it, but unfortunately, she pulled it back. “You cannot read the fine print when you make deals with the Devil

            “How can I trust you?” You said.

            “You can’t. That’s the beauty of it. You don’t know exactly what you are getting into. It’s like a Christmas party, where we exchange gifts. In both situations it can end in a living nightmare. What do you say? Want to try a Devilishly good Christmas party?” She slid the contract closer to you again, careful not to reveal too many of the words written in small type on the paper.

            What exactly could you lose though? You were already a cashier. And you already had lame music that played all the time in your head. Really all you could get out of this deal with the Devil was some entertainment. You pricked your finger, and a single drop of blood rolled off of your finger towards the parchment. Once it hit the paper, it was accompanied by a thunderous boom. Your reality tinted red around you.

            Once you regained your composure, you found yourself drinking from a glass filled with dark red punch. You savored the carbonated cherry taste until the last drop, and then you set the glass onto nearby table. It seemed as though now, based on the decorations that you were at a literal Christmas party. This begged the question, since you could no longer hear your Bland album, if you had merely created the situation in your head out of pure boredom.

            A woman ran passed you carrying a battery powered radio. “The new Christmas son is on the radio!” She screamed excitedly. Everyone in the room flocked towards the radio.

            The radio crackled on and you could hear yourself singing to the melody of Bland and everyone in the room was going bananas. It dawned on you quickly that Devil had given you fame as far as you could tell, but at the same time, she had removed you to another body. So even though you were technically widely successful, you had to enjoy it from the sidelines.

            Suddenly, you realized the music had stopped playing and everyone was looking at you. Not just looking, they were staring. Could they hear your lack of music accompaniment? Their personal music began to shift to the sound of fire crackling and magically they were all caring torches. This was the worst day of your life.

We're Ex Wise!

Writing exercises are hard to write. Writing is hard too. Sometimes. But hey, of you build up something, it would be hard to crush. Sometimes you just can't bring yourself to write in general because you think things aren't good enough. But hey just keep writing.

If you can't then hey, write just a dialogue between you arms your character, you and your self that likes to write. What would they say?

Wacky Wednesday: H2-Oh he didn't

Okay. Know those wax candies with the juice in them? Why can't we make this into a larger scale, and put water in them. Because wax is less bad for the environment and it seems as though it could be made into something else more easily. And also, you can make them flatter for easier storage. Turn the remains into candles. Boom!

Running out of Time 10

“You’ve been waiting a long time, blah blah blah.”

            “You don’t have to ruin everything with time travel. I get that you can manipulate time, you don’t have to rub it in my face. How about I just rub the immense power I have in your face with your apartment.”

            The apartment went to shrink again, and instinctively I went to the door, but the knob shrunk to the size of a cherry. Again compelled beyond reason, I kicked the door. My body shifted to the other side of the door, where my foot was still pressed against the door. I was starting to understand that I had created a loop by kicking the door at the same time as my past counterpart. I was trapped in an endless loop of kicking the door, until one of us didn’t kick the door.

            Even with that knowledge, even with that in my mind, I couldn’t stop myself from entering the apartment. I was dragged into it, as if it were destined. The wall began to talk, but I shushed it. “No need to be rude,” he said. “I was going to tell some really good jokes and then kill you, but you sort of ruined it for me. I’m just going to kill you now.”

            “They weren’t going to be good jokes,” I said to the wall version of myself.

            “I guess we will never know.”

            “No. I already knew.”

            The walls started to shrink again, and despite I knew that it was going to be an endless loop, I moved towards the door. In a moment of clarity, as time became cisper and easier to understand, I shifted my foot only slightly to the left as I moved towards the door, and it caused me to twist my ankle and fell before I could kick the door. The red and blue energy consumed the door, and it briefly switched to its normal size despite the room being shorter than I was. The ceiling pressed into my back, and squeezed oxygen from my lungs, causing me to wheeze. I punched the door and my hand went right through. I grabbed the knob on the opposite side, and twisted the door open. In the moment that it was about to crush me, I rolled through the open door. The ceiling fell a bit more, and then smashed down, blocking the exit of my apartment. I survived.

            I wanted to leave this place, this time, this reality, and this me, so I skipped backwards to the tree. Returning right back to where I had appeared almost directly after I had left.

Dose of Prose-fessor

As a hero, never named
I was never congradulated or ever blamed
Invisible, but entirely within perception
You can hear it if you only listen
They call me inspiration

I strike when the irons hot
I roll in a train of thought
I can be found, but never bought
You think I'm your best friend, I'm really not

Look out for my new delivery
Inspiration in the form of poetry
Perhaps you can't handle a dose of fun
For this you need no prescription

Go off into the night
Just when the sun is out of sight
I'll stroke with all my might
Just as you and sleep fight

Flash Fiction: Saddest Story

My dog was my best friend. Now, I don't have one.

Silly Saturday: That dang Cat

For a moment! For a moment, I want this to a regular blog post. I think that my car might be a wizard King? Yeah! Sounds crazy! Let me explain!

I've been watching him for 10 minutes. I just saw him roll a large foam D-20 until it was at 17.

A bit ago, he was drinking from a cup on the table. A large cup. Stocking his entire head into the glass despite having his own water. As of he thinks he is human.

And now, he is sitting stop the dresser in my bedroom starting at the rats in the cage of the floor.

I hope he doesn't overthrow us.

Now he is looking at my shoes!!

The Evil is Delicious

      The Devil had been waiting for our response. You weren't really sure what you wanted from her or from having alnice music accompany you everywhere. But as you glanced up, she seemed impatient, and you did not want to make the Devil angry.

       "I'm not really interested," you said casually.

      Before the Devil could respond, a flaming pentagram appeared on the ground beside her. A column of flames towered from the pentagram, burning your eyebrows off. As the flames subsided, there was another version of the Devil standing there. With her clawed hand, she cut the other Devil's face wide open.

      "Are you in all these worlds?" The other Devil said. She crouched down to scoop up some blood and she pushed it into her mouth. This caused a strange set of runes to appear on her face. Another pentagram burned into the ground, causing another pillar of fire to explode into the ceiling. 

      "Good riddance," she said as she clawed you in the neck. Breifly you felt the warmth of your blood both going down your neck and throat. You fell forward, unable to catch your breath.

      Another version of you appeared and glanced down you before disappearing again. This was the last thing you saw before everything went black.

      Your vision began to come back on, and you became aware that you could not move. You were strapped to a chair. There was a woman with wings, and a flannel shirt standing in front of you. 

      "You are going to be okay." You looked to your arms and you saw that they were gone. They had sinse been replaced with axes.

Wrote On a Boat that is Afloat: An exercise

I met someone who said they've been experiencing writer's block for 4 years. I thought this was sad, so I think that I have designed a writing exercise for this. Perhaps you can't write, but you know other people who can. So, perhaps, you can attempt a mimicry of someone else's voice. Write your own story, I mean you personally, from the writers voice. Experiment. You don't need creativity to tell a story you've lived.

Wacky Wednesday: Heavens Light

I work in a retail store believe it or not, and I've noticed that we have candles of vague concepts that are not smells like Cozy Home or Moonlight. Let's take this concept, and give it a revamp with smells like Courage and Bravery. Then we can take 50-100% of the profits to the wounded warrior fund. Because people like candles and people like helping! And it is a conversation smell. What smell is that candle? Courage! See?

Pinball is Life

A pinball machine is a lot like life
It gets to know a select group of few
Slowly it betters them and learns of their strife
A pinball machine can be broken like you
As such, it take a lot of matainence
But even so a pinball machine stands tall
Sometimes it takes coins, others it doesn't make sense
Like a good friend it is proper against a wall
Though immobile you can see it anywhere
It can be boring and sometimes unfair
Though like anything you know someone cares
A pinball machine can exist on its own
But it would rather be with someone known
Maybe some are less cool
But each plays by the same rules
When you struggles to reach greater heights
Attempting to stand out of the glare of the light
Even a pinball machine that lies in the desert
Or in the the Heart of a Blizzard
Each of them had their own pinball wizard.

Running out of Time 9

I skipped forward and as my foot touched the ground, the tree leaves turned orange. Then as I took another leap, the trees were covered in snow, then finally the world looked like it did when I had started. Now, it seemed as though I was directly in front of my apartment. I didn’t recall being close to the building before, but I had underestimated the space.

            I moved up to my apartment door, and as I went to grab it the door became smaller, and the knob moved lower than it had been. At first I thought it to be a trick of the light, but as I went to grab the knob again, it shifted away from me as it moved closer to the door.

            “Help! Help!” I heard myself scream from the other side. I couldn’t tell by the voice if that was actually me, or if it was Anthony. “I know that you are out there! Help me!” The knob jiggled, then it shrank in caparison to the door, until it was about the size of a cherry. The other version of me was trying to kill Anthony. If I didn’t think quickly, then I was going to die in the future. Granted, was it possible for me to die if Anthony existed to tell the tale.

            Instead of question reality, I kicked the door with my foot. A blue and red energy wrapped around the door, and it shifted to its normal size, door knob and all. I grabbed the handle and pushed myself inside. Rather than seeing myself standing at the door panicking, I was greeted by the regular version of my apartment. It had to be the moment before my apartment shrank, but how much before it was it?

            My face appeared raised in the wall, and it laughed at me. “Greg,” it said. That had to be the other version of me. The space case version of me. “I’ve waited a lot of time for you to be here. Like a cotton shirt in the dryer, things are going to get tight around you.” The wall laughed and then stopped. “Because I’m going to crush you…to death.” The wall clicked and it looked as though, I was getting bigger rather than my apartment getting smaller. “Wait!” The shrinkage stopped. “I’ve got a better one. How about a little breathing room?” The wall returned to its flat state, and then everything became smaller again. Almost instantly, I moved to the window, but the glass turned into cement. “Your death is cemented in this place.” The walls said again.

            As the ceiling touched the top of my head and I was forced to duck, I became very aware that I was going to death. I found myself yelling the same things that I had heard, despite the fact that it should have been less likely for me to say them since I had already heard them. I tried the door knob, but it shrunk away to the size of a cherry. “Better cover your brass!” The walls said again.

            In a sudden moment, I had the bright idea to kick the door, since it had worked so well for me previously. I kicked the door, and the same blue and red energy consumed the door. My body shifted, and I found I was standing outside the door again, my foot pressed against the door still as if I had kicked it on the other side at the exact same moment. Had the thing with the other version of me never happened? What had I done? I was compelled to enter the room.

            “Greg,” the wall face said again. That had already happened. I was repeating what had happened.

My Valentine Part One

      I'm marked, for life, with the two of hearts sewn on my body. I had since sliced one of the hearts clean off of my body.

      "Are you speaking out loud?" 

       I looked over to the seat across the isle of the bus. She was irritated. Like I cared. She was just some person, and I had my own issues that she would never know.

      "I can still hear you."

      I needed hesitantly to her, but only paid mild attention otherwise. She probably wondered where I was going. Anywhere honestly. Anywhere, but here. I let the one person, I love be consumed by overwhelming sadness and worry that she had died. If at the very least, I didn't do drugs and never slept, she may have known.

      "I don't think you do drugs," she said.

      I had done them all, from Nutmeg to mushrooms. Her guilt consumed her, which corrupted her from the inside out, this killing her. Once I was fully aware, I took it upon myself to tattoo the image of a two of heart on my arm, because I was never going to be whole again.

      "Are you okay?"

      I looked out the window to see a building with bars on the windows. I would be cursed for eternity with her blood on my hands. The woman moved closer and rest her hands on my shoulder.

      "Don't worry, Clive. You will be okay. These people will take care of you." 

       Two large men entered the bus and moved towards me. The grabbed my be the cuffs and pulled me of the bus. For a breif moment, as I looked back, I thought the woman situated on the bus looked like her.

Silly Saturday: Dumb Pun Jokes

Silly Saturday is about relaxing. To help you relax, I have some jokes.

Two strains of the flu walk into a bar... I'm not feeling good about this one.

I've been trying to think about a joke involving chairs, but I think I'll sit this one out.

A mosquito and a vampire are both waiting for the bus in the rain. This joke sucks.

What did one ice cube say to the other? Nothing ice cubes don't talk.

If you have two oranges in one hand, two apples in one, and a handful of grapes in the the other, what do you have? Three hands.

What do you spider that can fly? A Nightmare

Two electrons walk into a bar... I'm feeling negative about this one.

How many leprechauns does it take to screw in a light bulb? Depends on how tall they are.

Why couldn't the pirates go to the movie? Because they were banned from coming into town

The Devil's plaything

L.  The Devil’s offer still stood. Actually, even the Devil still stood. This wasn’t the first time that the Devil had tried to buy your playlist off of you. It was actually kind of sad that the Devil couldn’t remember who you were. Despite the fact that she wanted your personal music, she didn’t seem to remember that she had wanted it before. It was like how a baby forgot about a shiny object that you had just dangled in its face right after you took it away.

            “I’d rather not,” you said to the Devil.

            “But anything in your wildest dreams could come true,” the Devil said with a laugh.

            “I prefer getting what I want the old fashioned way,” you said.

            “You will regret this,” the Devil said.

            “I doubt that I will,”

            In a huff, the Devil threw fire at your register, which you calmly put out. “Have a great day,” you said. Then just like that, the Devil was gone. Your boss was pretty understanding when you asked to go home. She didn’t really want to deal with the Devil either. On the way back, driving in your crappy car, you saw a garage sale.

            It took all of thirty seconds to convince yourself that you needed to stop there. As you stepped from the car, you saw that this particular garage sale was selling the typical garage sale stuff. Baby clothes, romance novels, miscellaneous glassware, and crappy PS2 games. Then you saw something behind a yellow coat that interested you. It was a skateboard.

            “How much for the skateboard?” You asked.

            “It’s not for sale,” the guy running the garage sale said.

            “Not even for this much.” You handed the guy a crumpled twenty dollar bill. His eyes lit up as though he thought that you had wanted the skateboard for a measly dollar.

            “You can have it.” You shook hands with the guy, and you grabbed the skateboard. As you moved towards your car, you saw one of Hell’s Gargoyles land atop the house.

            “Not this again,” you remarked.

            The gargoyle threw a ball of fire at your car and upon touching the metal exterior, it caused your car to explode. The hellish thing of the night looked toward you as another ball of fire appeared in his hand. Automatically, you hoped onto the skateboard and began moving down the hill that seemed to continue downwards forever.

            The gargoyle flew directly behind you, throwing fireballs in your general direction. For the most part, they seemed to land to the left and to the right, but sometimes, they landed directly in the middle of the road. As you were skating down the hill, you noticed a shimmering neon bolt of lightning hovering above the road. Reflexively, you grabbed the lightning bolt, causing your body to glow a brilliant yellow. As the yellow energy consumed you, you began to speed up. Finally, you saw the end of the hill, and you thought that you might finally get away too.

            However, as you approached the bottom of the hill, the gargoyle threw an extra-large and extra powerful fireball that opened the ground up to reveal hell. Now, you were falling into a bottomless pit, that presumable lead to the bottom of hell. Now, the gargoyle was diving at you, but for the most part you could easily dodge him. Every once in a while, there was a spike the jutted from the wall that you had to dodge. Then as you continued to fall into hell, you got struck in the back by a fireball, causing you to lose your breath and die.

            In front of you in huge white letters was: GAME OVER. Then in smaller letters were the words: Insert 1 coin to continue. As the timer ticked down to zero, you heard the Devil laugh, followed by her saying, “I told you that you would regret it.”

Imagine if I exercised write?

Some exercises are simple. Such as, write something unexpected happening in a regular world. That sounds easy, because unexpected could mean anything. Instead let's try; Write something completely regular like getting mail or running water into a fantastical world as if it were very unexpected and fantastical in itself. Just take something you have on a daily basis and make it seem awesome to fantastical characters.

Wacky Wednesday: PoSTARE

So, we have items that come in packaging! Like pop vinyls, figures, and other such collectibles. Some people throw away these useless boxes, because they take up to much extra room. I'm looking at a pop vinyl right now, and the box takes up at least 300% more space then the pop itself. This is where my invention would come in. PoSTARE would be a particular kind of packaging that would unfold into a poster. We would accomplish this with perforation. That would make the box, that's boring, that I would usually throw away, interesting. And if you have idea for multiple character poster ideas, we could notch the PoSTARE so that two unfolded boxes fit together.

What's left but Death. What's next?

The Wraith

       He is waiting in the shadows for a moment to strike. He is watching you. His eyes glowing crimson in the darkness just like the blood in your veins. There is one last moment to live before he strikes, the scythe has sealed your doomed fate, it is too late to be saved. With moonlight reflecting off his weapon he smiles a bony grin, this is your end.

       Why don't you take his hand and follow him to the very end, all the way across the sea to a shadowed land.

       You may see the fog arise from the waters and engulf you, and take your soul as it moves away. Leaving you as the undead, nothing but an empty body on a boat that will be afloat forever and over again. Nothing you can do or say, everything will go array, as this day begins to come to a permanent delay.

       His teeth glow pearly white from the distant light that you cannot get to without a fight. The afterlife just steps away everything is turning gray. Reaching for you he recites, “Do not fear your demise. Now you fear me, I am the reaper come to punish you for your every lie.”

As he touches you, you see everything that used to be, and all that is in store for everyone including me. “You must come with me, I am the reaper can’t you see. Everything will be to thy favor in the life I will take from thee.”

       He will show you his world in a distant land where you will spend eternity over and over again. Try to fight him, bite and claw him, it will not save you from the closing night that falls unto the very ground you stand upon.

       Beside him you walk, as his friend, no more fear, no more sin. Lies you told to people, it’s too bad they could not hear your cries, or save you from your very demise. 

Running out of Time 8

I skipped forward and as my foot touched the ground, the tree leaves turned orange. Then as I took another leap, the trees were covered in snow, then finally the world looked like it did when I had started. Now, it seemed as though I was directly in front of my apartment. I didn’t recall being close to the building before, but I had underestimated the space.

            I moved up to my apartment door, and as I went to grab it the door became smaller, and the knob moved lower than it had been. At first I thought it to be a trick of the light, but as I went to grab the knob again, it shifted away from me as it moved closer to the door.

            “Help! Help!” I heard myself scream from the other side. I couldn’t tell by the voice if that was actually me, or if it was Anthony. “I know that you are out there! Help me!” The knob jiggled, then it shrank in caparison to the door, until it was about the size of a cherry. The other version of me was trying to kill Anthony. If I didn’t think quickly, then I was going to die in the future. Granted, was it possible for me to die if Anthony existed to tell the tale.

            Instead of question reality, I kicked the door with my foot. A blue and red energy wrapped around the door, and it shifted to its normal size, door knob and all. I grabbed the handle and pushed myself inside. Rather than seeing myself standing at the door panicking, I was greeted by the regular version of my apartment. It had to be the moment before my apartment shrank, but how much before it was it?

            My face appeared raised in the wall, and it laughed at me. “Greg,” it said. That had to be the other version of me. The space case version of me. “I’ve waited a lot of time for you to be here. Like a cotton shirt in the dryer, things are going to get tight around you.” The wall laughed and then stopped. “Because I’m going to crush you…to death.” The wall clicked and it looked as though, I was getting bigger rather than my apartment getting smaller. “Wait!” The shrinkage stopped. “I’ve got a better one. How about a little breathing room?” The wall returned to its flat state, and then everything became smaller again. Almost instantly, I moved to the window, but the glass turned into cement. “Your death is cemented in this place.” The walls said again.

            As the ceiling touched the top of my head and I was forced to duck, I became very aware that I was going to death. I found myself yelling the same things that I had heard, despite the fact that it should have been less likely for me to say them since I had already heard them. I tried the door knob, but it shrunk away to the size of a cherry. “Better cover your brass!” The walls said again.

            In a sudden moment, I had the bright idea to kick the door, since it had worked so well for me previously. I kicked the door, and the same blue and red energy consumed the door. My body shifted, and I found I was standing outside the door again, my foot pressed against the door still as if I had kicked it on the other side at the exact same moment. Had the thing with the other version of me never happened? What had I done? I was compelled to enter the room.

            “Greg,” the wall face said again. That had already happened. I was repeating what had happened.

            “You’ve been waiting a long time, blah blah blah.”

            “You don’t have to ruin everything with time travel. I get that you can manipulate time, you don’t have to rub it in my face. How about I just rub the immense power I have in your face with your apartment.”

            The apartment went to shrink again, and instinctively I went to the door, but the knob shrunk to the size of a cherry. Again compelled beyond reason, I kicked the door. My body shifted to the other side of the door, where my foot was still pressed against the door. I was starting to understand that I had created a loop by kicking the door at the same time as my past counterpart. I was trapped in an endless loop of kicking the door, until one of us didn’t kick the door.

            Even with that knowledge, even with that in my mind, I couldn’t stop myself from entering the apartment. I was dragged into it, as if it were destined. The wall began to talk, but I shushed it. “No need to be rude,” he said. “I was going to tell some really good jokes and then kill you, but you sort of ruined it for me. I’m just going to kill you now.”

            “They weren’t going to be good jokes,” I said to the wall version of myself.

            “I guess we will never know.”

            “No. I already knew.”

            The walls started to shrink again, and despite I knew that it was going to be an endless loop, I moved towards the door. In a moment of clarity, as time became cisper and easier to understand, I shifted my foot only slightly to the left as I moved towards the door, and it caused me to twist my ankle and fell before I could kick the door. The red and blue energy consumed the door, and it briefly switched to its normal size despite the room being shorter than I was. The ceiling pressed into my back, and squeezed oxygen from my lungs, causing me to wheeze. I punched the door and my hand went right through. I grabbed the knob on the opposite side, and twisted the door open. In the moment that it was about to crush me, I rolled through the open door. The ceiling fell a bit more, and then smashed down, blocking the exit of my apartment. I survived.

Thoughtless in Sea Waddle

I had only one portion of immortality left. After I sold that last piece, I was finally allowed to die. I had lived too long to be bested by the last potion of immortality. I opened the door to a small family run pizza parlor.

            “Who are you?” The owner asked. His name tag claimed that his name was Brandon.

            “I’m here to offer you the deal of eternity.” I went over my entire spiel about how living forever would allow him to do so much. He’d be able to do plenty of things that no other human ever got to do.

            “Yes, but what happens when my family dies? Then I will just be by myself. That hardly seems like fun.”

            “Yes, but you can always get new families,” I said clearly.

            “I don’t want another family. I just want to keep this family fed.” Brandon gestured to his three children and his wife behind the counter. As much as I wanted to argue with him, he was right. I continued looking for one last person to bestow the curse of immortality onto, but each of them had the same idea. I don’t want to live forever, because of my family.

            I traveled to both ends of the earth, finally finding myself in the cold grasp of Antarctica. There was not a soul left on the Earth to take my potion, so in my exhaustion, I collapsed in the snow. I couldn’t die, but I could still feel the bite of the cold. If I couldn’t die, then I might as well pretend. I lied motionless as snow covered me for years.

            Until one day, I felt some warmth and pressure on my chest. I sat up in the snow, and there was a penguin sitting on my chest with an egg between his legs. Clearly, he was cold, because I couldn’t feel my entire body. The penguin was covered in a thick layer of frost, but he was concentrating hard on the egg. I attempted to move, but the penguin remained planted exactly where he was. Perhaps, he had felt the extra warmth of my body through the snow.

            I was plastered there, forced to watch a father keep his future kid alive. We struggled together through the snow and cold. “Yeah Mr. Bowtie. I was cursed with immortality and this is where I ended up.” Though I talked to the penguin, he never talked back. He just remained hunched over staring at the egg.

            Then in one moment, the Antarctic wind blew extra hard, causing the penguin to shift precariously. He attempted to right himself, but the egg fell from the mound of snow. Despite the fact that I hadn’t moved for a long time, I quickly caught the eggs before it could hit the icy ground and placed it back under the penguin.

            As I looked closer, I saw that the harsh cold had actually cracked the egg. Without really thinking about it, I poured the last remaining portion of immortality onto the egg, causing it to fuse back together. The distant look in the penguin father’s eyes melted away, and he situated himself back over the egg.

            Finally, after all the time I was allowed to die. 

Silly Saturday: Another Movie Idea

Thoughtless in Sea Waddle.

This is an idea for a movie. It would incorporate a main character who is a immortal traveling salesmen. He has been cursed by a witch with 100 portions of immortality, all equally strong, that you must always carry around. the only thing that he can do to get rid of these portions of immortality is to sell them to people. Once he sells all of the portions of immortality he is allowed to live toward his actual death.

Ax D Evil the Quest-Ion

The Devil seemed pretty serious, and despite the fact that you had heard plenty of bad things about the Devil, she had never actually done anything bad to you. You were the kind of person that judged others based on how they treated you, so who exactly were you to say no to someone who never wronged you.

            “K,” you said confidently. You pricked your finger, and you signed the contract.

            “You are about to be a star!” A blinding white light consumed your soul, and you could feel your bodiless essence being pulled through the floor. As you passed through the bottom of the floor, you watched as a bright red horned soul pass by. That soul smashed into your body, and then you were gone.

            You passed through the hundreds of layers of ground until finally you started to sink into an orange and red cavern filled with lava and fire. This must have been Hell. An iron clasped wrapped around your leg, and a pickaxe formed in your hand. There was a nine foot tall demon with a whip standing in front of you.

            “Mine or die!” He screamed. You lifted the pickaxe, bit was wrapped in barbed wire and extremely heavy. Once you finally got it raised, you swung it at a nearby rock, causing the rock to scream and bled out small rubies.

            “I’m not already dead,” you said. You swung at the screaming rock, and it began to bleed even larger rubies.

            “You wish you were dead.” So, you continued to swing your pickaxe at the screaming rock. Your hands became bloody themselves because the barbed wire cut your skin every time the pickaxe made contact with the rock. Time didn’t seem to flow naturally, and you weren’t even sure how long you had been in Hell. Once there was a pile of blood rubies, a small demon with a sack made of human flesh came by and collected them wordlessly. “30 second break time,” the demon screamed. He tossed you a bottle of what you could only describe as salt water or sweat. You drank it and sat near the rock, not really carrying what the liquid was.

            “Pssst! Hey pickaxe swingin’ bloody hands,” someone said. You looked around, but you didn’t see anyone but the huge demon. “Stupid. Look down here.” You glanced down, and you saw that the ruby rock had a face formed into it. It didn’t really look like a human face, more like a cat’s face. “Behind me is an ax guitar. If you grab it, you can kill the demon, and you can get out of here. If you do, you have to come back for me.”

            You weren’t exactly sure why the screaming rock was helping you, but as you peaked around the edge of the rock, you saw the ax guitar on the other side of the rock. “Break time is over!” The demon whipped you, and you continued to hit the screaming rock with your pickaxe, causing it to bleed rubies. You were waiting for just the right moment to spring forward and grab the guitar, but the hard end of the whip was intimidating you. If the demon hit you with that whip, you were afraid that it would easily kill you.

            With a sudden plan biting you in the butt, you swung the pickaxe as hard as you possible could, causing the rock to scream louder than it ever had. Then you acted as though the pickaxe was stuck in the rock. “What in the Hell is going on?” The demon yelled.

            “The pickaxe is stuck,” you said. The demon moved over and put the whip on his belt. As he reached over to grab the pickaxe, you grabbed the ax guitar and swung it down hard on the demon. Instead of killing him, as you were initially told by the rock, it just dazed the demon for a mere second. He grabbed the guitar and slung it into the distance.

            “That wasn’t a good idea,” the demon grabbed you by the throat and crushed you into a similar rock to the one you were hitting with the pickaxe.

            “You were supposed to play the guitar? What made you think to hit him?”

            “It just seemed to be the right thing to do like I had heard about it from someone else,” you said. Now, you were doomed to be a rock in hell. You should have just played that ax guitar rather than trying to beat a demon senseless with it.

Excerwise that Brain so you can be Extra Wise

So, you have some characters that are mildly interesting, but they aren't interesting together? Well, here we go, take a character from your current project and have that same character interact with a character from an already established universe, preferably one that you didn't write. This will allow you to see how your character's interact with real fictional characters. It also gives you a way to flush out their particular thought process and methods and over all ability to talk to Harry Potter or what not.

Wacky Wednesday: Simplest Idea Yet

This idea is easy and I think it is beautiful. All we need if a clear gel like substance that glows in the dark. What would you do with such a thing? Well, since it was clear, you could put in on anything that you would want to glow in the dark. The best thing that I can think of is to paint in on the buttons of a remote control, so that you can finally see the freaking numbers to change the channel. You can also use it for crafts! And since in my brain it is non toxic, you can paint it on your nails!!!!

Call it: Glow and Tell

Death is a Former Life of Mine

Poetic Justice

No matter how much, I squirm and dance

I can't get this ant out of my pants

I feel as though I mat have been death once

It's not because of my living wants

I just want to pull of this dark cloak

Do something to Darth Vader, make him choke

I want to take on all of the bad

Hold a scythe, so rad

Hold up my skeleton hand

Hold up Father Time's sand

Hang out with immortals like Santa Clause

Watch stars go out, just because

It's not like I want to see the world burn

I just want to watch and learn

I just want to see everything

The birth of the universe

Every songs first verse

I just to be immortal

Learn some morals

Read some stories, written, and some oral

What I wouldn't give forever

I'll just have to settle for never ever.

Running out of Time 7

I fell backwards from the sidewalk I had been on into a tree. It caught me by the neck and the creases of my legs, making me feel relatively comfortable. As if to say, “Sleep now Greg. You’ve deserved it.” It was almost normal.”

            The tire swing was hanging from a tree. The garage was next to a house, and the car was inside the garage. Had I run through time again? I laid in the tree, feeling as though reality was normal. After getting my fill of non-apocalyptic normal gravity, I jumped from the tree.

            The sudden jarring move as I struck the ground shifted reality back to the apocalyptic scene. Now, I was standing at the base of the sidewalk tree again. Somehow everything looked worse than I had just seen it. Everything was covered in cobwebs, even more fire, and a thick coating of dust. Ketchup was no longer rising into the sky.

            “Greeeeeg!” Someone moaned. Behind me, the withered form of Ketchup emerged from behind the tree. She was grey, rail thin, crusty, and lean. I was surprised I even recognized her. “You’ve been gone for 6 trillion years.” She lifted her forearm, where she had cut a bunch of check marks into her arm.”

            A non-crusty hand grabbed me by my collar and pulled me back onto the vertical sidewalk. It was regular muscular Ketchup. The best version of Ketchup. As if she could hear my thoughts, she spoke. “Pay no attention to her. Time is irrelevant here. Just because that happened to her, it doesn’t mean it will happen to me. It isn’t a death sentence.”

            “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me,” I said.

            “When did I say that?”

            “Like one minute ago.”

            “That must happen to a future version of me. I haven’t said that yet. I may never say that.” My eyes swiftly moved to her feet, and I saw that her shoes, my shoes, were recently bloody.

            “What happened to me?

            “I’m not supposed to tell you,” she said. Again, she started to walk away.

            “Who the hell told you that?” I screamed back up to her in the sky.

            “You did. At least I hope you are him.”

            “Gaw! I am so over this.” I stomped my foot and reality flickered back to normal. Where Ketchup had been standing, there was now an old lady.

            “You are supposed to be nice the elderly,” she muttered as she hobbled away. Freaking old ladies saying crappy things. They always think that they deserve good treatment because they have lived longer. So, now stomping my foot was equal to jumping. If jumping skipped me to the end of time, what happened when I skipped?