A dinosaur, he sits beneath
A toppled chair, alone –
Abandoned by a little boy
For sake of ice cream cone.
Showing posts with label Creativity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Creativity. Show all posts
Saturday, October 21, 2017
Sunday, September 3, 2017
Forgetting
Forgetting stumbles in the dark basement,
stifled in his too-thick sweater,
playing an ever lengthening game of hide-and-seek.
stifled in his too-thick sweater,
playing an ever lengthening game of hide-and-seek.
Tuesday, March 14, 2017
Press Room Flowers
A gentle cross breeze meanders in and out of doors and windows while I work this morning. Unseasonably warm, but none of us are complaining. I bend the paper, letting this tame air ease between the pages. The stack drops briefly to the table. Tap. Tap. Pages settle into alignment. I slide them into the machine and tap them in place once more.
“You ready, Toby?” I whisper to the machine.
His motor continues rumbling his monologue, which I carefully interpret to be an affirmative.
Leaning back from the safety sensors, I push both hands underneath the work surface, pressing twin buttons and holding them in place, while the blade of the machine slides down with a soft swoosh through the paper stack and thunk reaches its limit and thunk returns to starting position. I sweep the paper trimmings into the recycle bin beside me, thin ribbons of waste tumbling into their confinement. My process continues, repeating. Jog the paper into a neat stack. Tap. Tap. Register the paper in the cutter. Tap. Tap. A gentle but excited murmur. “Here we go, Toby!” Swoosh. Thunk thunk. Slivers of paper tipping over the edge and tumbling, tumbling down. Then gone, and I reach for the next section of paper, only to find I’ve finished already.
“Thank you, Toby. I’ll be back soon enough.”
My feet carry me across the press room floor along a weaving line between machines, paper stacks, and rolling tables to the bindery station, my own space in this planned chaos. Here, I perch on my rolling chair, old enough to have plastic wrap wrapped around and around and around the seat, trapping in the exposed orange foam. Here, I shape the brochures in careful thirds, pressing each fold into sharp lines with the tool in my hand. We call it a bone, and I cannot help but imagine the years of hands that have held it, tilted and pressed it into paper creases. The bones wrapped in their own skin strangely similar. In reality it is something akin to a tongue depressor but plastic and thicker in the middle because of the years of wear on the edges rubbing against paper. As I near the end of my brochure pile, I glance over to the clumsily made metal flower I taped upright on the desk weeks ago.
The shrink wrap system had partly broken that day. The metal wire that heats to melt the plastic together was hanging down, a limp and partly severed appendage, when I went to package a finished job. I stared at it, the broken wire. It twisted at an odd angle, no longer straight, strong, and shining. “You poor, baby.” I rub my hand against the metal blue casing surrounding most of the system in an attempt at comfort.
As a coworker clocked in for the day, I called her over. “Sarah, what do I do?”
My comrade in arms looked at the wire for a moment, frowned, considered pushing it into place with the end of a pen, and finally said, “Let’s ask Kyle. He usually fixes it.”
Kyle, a gentle man nearing retirement, smiled as he accompanied us to the heart rending scene, despite the inconvenience. “Sarah, could you unplug it?”
“Sure.”
He reached under the device and retrieved a cardboard box, two sides of which were labeled Shrink Wrap Parts in bold swoops of a Sharpie pen. Talking to us as he did so, he unfastened the old wire, blackened and bent. “I don’t know what this could be used for now. Probably something.”
“We could make a flower out of it,” I offered.
He twisted the pliers to the left. “Sounds like an art major thing to say.”
I shrugged, watching him unspool the new wire while he continued in a conversation with Sarah which I can no longer recall. The shining strip of metal reached nearly from one anchor point to another, barely too short.
“Here. Make a flower out of this.” Kyle handed me the failed wire.
It rested with a gentle weight in my hands as so many sticks had throughout my childhood. I pressed and it bent without breaking, so I set about my task, bending and straightening, wrapping and twisting, until a flower as crude as a child’s fifth finger painting emerged, but a flower all the same.
I reach out and gently touch the edge of one wire petal. Smooth and cold, it contrasts to the stacks of paper I’ve been handling my entire shift today. My shift. I should get back to work. The job ticket, this lovely orange sheet of paper with the standard instructions from above (that is to say, Amanda’s office upstairs), dictates that the finished brochures be packaged in three groups of one hundred, so I count. I count in piles of ten until each stack is ready. I slip them into thin plastic and melt the ends together to seal them in. I place them on a blue table to my left. Before I’ve even turned on the heat gun, I’m singing ballads again, and while plastic tightens around paper in reaction to the hot air, the Lady of Shalott looks out her window to see the water lilies bloom.
“You ready, Toby?” I whisper to the machine.
His motor continues rumbling his monologue, which I carefully interpret to be an affirmative.
Leaning back from the safety sensors, I push both hands underneath the work surface, pressing twin buttons and holding them in place, while the blade of the machine slides down with a soft swoosh through the paper stack and thunk reaches its limit and thunk returns to starting position. I sweep the paper trimmings into the recycle bin beside me, thin ribbons of waste tumbling into their confinement. My process continues, repeating. Jog the paper into a neat stack. Tap. Tap. Register the paper in the cutter. Tap. Tap. A gentle but excited murmur. “Here we go, Toby!” Swoosh. Thunk thunk. Slivers of paper tipping over the edge and tumbling, tumbling down. Then gone, and I reach for the next section of paper, only to find I’ve finished already.
“Thank you, Toby. I’ll be back soon enough.”
My feet carry me across the press room floor along a weaving line between machines, paper stacks, and rolling tables to the bindery station, my own space in this planned chaos. Here, I perch on my rolling chair, old enough to have plastic wrap wrapped around and around and around the seat, trapping in the exposed orange foam. Here, I shape the brochures in careful thirds, pressing each fold into sharp lines with the tool in my hand. We call it a bone, and I cannot help but imagine the years of hands that have held it, tilted and pressed it into paper creases. The bones wrapped in their own skin strangely similar. In reality it is something akin to a tongue depressor but plastic and thicker in the middle because of the years of wear on the edges rubbing against paper. As I near the end of my brochure pile, I glance over to the clumsily made metal flower I taped upright on the desk weeks ago.
The shrink wrap system had partly broken that day. The metal wire that heats to melt the plastic together was hanging down, a limp and partly severed appendage, when I went to package a finished job. I stared at it, the broken wire. It twisted at an odd angle, no longer straight, strong, and shining. “You poor, baby.” I rub my hand against the metal blue casing surrounding most of the system in an attempt at comfort.
As a coworker clocked in for the day, I called her over. “Sarah, what do I do?”
My comrade in arms looked at the wire for a moment, frowned, considered pushing it into place with the end of a pen, and finally said, “Let’s ask Kyle. He usually fixes it.”
Kyle, a gentle man nearing retirement, smiled as he accompanied us to the heart rending scene, despite the inconvenience. “Sarah, could you unplug it?”
“Sure.”
He reached under the device and retrieved a cardboard box, two sides of which were labeled Shrink Wrap Parts in bold swoops of a Sharpie pen. Talking to us as he did so, he unfastened the old wire, blackened and bent. “I don’t know what this could be used for now. Probably something.”
“We could make a flower out of it,” I offered.
He twisted the pliers to the left. “Sounds like an art major thing to say.”
I shrugged, watching him unspool the new wire while he continued in a conversation with Sarah which I can no longer recall. The shining strip of metal reached nearly from one anchor point to another, barely too short.
“Here. Make a flower out of this.” Kyle handed me the failed wire.
It rested with a gentle weight in my hands as so many sticks had throughout my childhood. I pressed and it bent without breaking, so I set about my task, bending and straightening, wrapping and twisting, until a flower as crude as a child’s fifth finger painting emerged, but a flower all the same.
I reach out and gently touch the edge of one wire petal. Smooth and cold, it contrasts to the stacks of paper I’ve been handling my entire shift today. My shift. I should get back to work. The job ticket, this lovely orange sheet of paper with the standard instructions from above (that is to say, Amanda’s office upstairs), dictates that the finished brochures be packaged in three groups of one hundred, so I count. I count in piles of ten until each stack is ready. I slip them into thin plastic and melt the ends together to seal them in. I place them on a blue table to my left. Before I’ve even turned on the heat gun, I’m singing ballads again, and while plastic tightens around paper in reaction to the hot air, the Lady of Shalott looks out her window to see the water lilies bloom.
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Song of Polyphemus
My days were simple.
Care for my rams and craft cheese.
Simple. They were simple.
My people are more
than savage killers and thieves.
They are more than you.
We had a prophet
many, many years ago.
He spoke. We listened.
He told me “Someday
the man Odysseus, will
steal your gift of sight.”
This man I pondered.
I considered and wondered
whom this man could be.
Strong? Of course he is.
Impressive? Oh, he must be.
Smart? Certainly so.
But my life passed on.
The prophet died, and his tales
ebbed from memory.
My rams. My kinsmen.
These filled my days, and I was
content in my life.
You. You came and stole.
You demanded I give more.
You told lies, small thief.
You and yours are not
the same as me or my kin.
Your blood is bitter.
Did they deserve more?
Was their leader truly good?
No, Thief, you are vile.
But you refused to
lay down and die easily.
You tricked me, Mortal.
You filled me with wine.
Bitter falsehoods you fed me.
My mistake: I slept.
Searing pain. My screams.
You wretched worm of mankind.
Oh, this white, hot pain.
Have you had your eyes
stabbed out with a burning stick?
No. You have both eyes.
You robbed me of mine.
My sight. My dear brothers’ trust.
You stole these from me.
Taunt me. Shout at me.
I hear you. Poseidon hears.
He will avenge me.
And these, my dear rams,
I will tend with my last breath,
but not near as well.
Rest is my freedom.
I dream and my eye still sees
the pastures, the rams.
You could never take
everything from me, Thief.
You can’t take my dreams.
Care for my rams and craft cheese.
Simple. They were simple.
My people are more
than savage killers and thieves.
They are more than you.
We had a prophet
many, many years ago.
He spoke. We listened.
He told me “Someday
the man Odysseus, will
steal your gift of sight.”
This man I pondered.
I considered and wondered
whom this man could be.
Strong? Of course he is.
Impressive? Oh, he must be.
Smart? Certainly so.
But my life passed on.
The prophet died, and his tales
ebbed from memory.
My rams. My kinsmen.
These filled my days, and I was
content in my life.
You. You came and stole.
You demanded I give more.
You told lies, small thief.
You and yours are not
the same as me or my kin.
Your blood is bitter.
Did they deserve more?
Was their leader truly good?
No, Thief, you are vile.
But you refused to
lay down and die easily.
You tricked me, Mortal.
You filled me with wine.
Bitter falsehoods you fed me.
My mistake: I slept.
Searing pain. My screams.
You wretched worm of mankind.
Oh, this white, hot pain.
Have you had your eyes
stabbed out with a burning stick?
No. You have both eyes.
You robbed me of mine.
My sight. My dear brothers’ trust.
You stole these from me.
Taunt me. Shout at me.
I hear you. Poseidon hears.
He will avenge me.
And these, my dear rams,
I will tend with my last breath,
but not near as well.
Rest is my freedom.
I dream and my eye still sees
the pastures, the rams.
You could never take
everything from me, Thief.
You can’t take my dreams.
Monday, May 2, 2016
Night Pondering
What lingers in the dark?
What muffled horror?
What passing chill?
What monsters stand
and wait
and listen
for coming feet?
Warm breezes pass through screens.
This, a whispered calling,
a gentle summons,
peaceful, humble,
brings me,
camera in hand,
out.
Far from fields of barley,
late night coyote calls,
star freckled sky,
and solitude.
"Safety"
I exit
and on sidewalk step.
No roaring night life here,
no drunken people,
no speeding cars.
Slam on the brakes.
Stumbles,
not of feet
but souls.
I wander,
pause,
and breathe.
A yellow lamplight stands,
glowing of long past,
sad memories
for which I was
absent.
Lens open,
I gather together
stray pieces of light,
parts of shadow,
and dissmissed colors.
Now still
memories
trapped
within.
Illuminated trees,
reflections on water,
a lonely wooden bridge.
How different
the world is
in obsidian hues
with the faintest
kisses of light.
I pause and
breathe,
wonder.
In the darkness of night,
when fear writhes in hearts,
fevered nightmares come
from within me.
Streetlights
and
glowing stars
light the way
Home.
Friday, November 13, 2015
In Case of Campus War or Invasion
College or University campuses are often much like their own worlds; even ones that are open to the public to wander about in have a different feel to them than the rest of the towns they occupy. Within campuses are different factions of students, usually created by residence halls, majors, and/or clubs. These factions are highly competitive, frequently competing with each other with tooth and nail in campus events.
One day it may not end with the games.
One day, a faction may rise, smearing the blood of their enemies across their faces (or maybe just the ketchup from the student cafeteria), and declare that they will take campus by force, regardless of offers to surrender peacefully.
One day they may spread to another campus in their maddened frenzy for power.
Or
Zombies, aliens, or both will invade campus.
Regardless, college and university students have various options to increase survival.
Campus Familiarity: Indispensable.
Layout: When running and/or hiding from an enemy, know where you are and where you are going. Trying to use a map will slow you down. Maps do not show you short cuts either. Take walks around campus often, exploring new areas.
Buildings: Know which buildings store what materials and which would make for the best base of operations. Is there chloroform in the science building? Where is the clinic, and what antibiotics are readily available there? Which building is easiest to barricade and defend? This is all important and should be taken into account. Unless the business building is the best built or closest to several buildings that you will need access to, it is not likely to make an efficient base.
Rations: Starving during war or invasion is less than ideal.
Campus Bookstore: The campus bookstore rarely has only books. Generally this is where students can find shirts, jackets, umbrellas, and other various merchandise that has the school name and mascot on it. There are also microwavable foods and candy bars. Clothes and food are fundamental rations.
Vending Machines: Know where the vending machines are. Take special note of what each one has to offer. Chances are, there will be some variation.
Store Runs: College and University students will often take trips off campus to buy food items that the bookstore or vending machines may not have, such as canned foods. When on a food run, purchase a little more than is absolutely necessary and stash it somewhere safe. Unless there is a sale, buying extra in bulk is not recommended because, as a student, you have little money and need to pay for laundry, which is still important at this point.
Dorm Rooms: Be aware of how much food is where. Chances are, many of your neighbors will die in the initial outbreak of violence as well as later on, and their food stashes will be free for your use.
Team: Yes, this does have to be a group project if you want better chances of survival.
Basic Team Building: This may be difficult for introverts (like myself) to accept, but long-term survival requires a team, and that means socializing beforehand in order to identify the best candidates. These people will need to be able to get along well under the worst conditions as well as have practical skills. Never select someone based on appearance. Betty may be pretty, but if she has nothing else to add, she'll likely get someone killed. If one of your candidates is in a relationship, either reject that one or be prepared to support the extra member (unless you wanted both of them anyway). Melodrama is a headache at best. Also: pick people who are just a little crazy, but also reasonable. Balance between logic and free creativity.
Recruitment: Be tactful. If they think you're insane, they'll have nothing to do with you.
Leader: Having a leader is crucial. This will be the person who will make decisions and has to get along well with the team. He or she must be logical and caring. Life must be valued, but willing to be sacrificed when necessary. It's a hard role, and while many may clamber for it, very few can be trusted with it. Be wise when selecting your leader.
Other Offices: You will need people of widely varying skill sets. Your team may designate jobs such as spy, procurer of transportation, etc. You could also have only the leader named and the rest simply teammates. So long as everyone is somehow useful, the team should hold together.
Weapon Planning: Anything is a possible weapon, and different team members will be skilled with different types of weapons. Know who is best with what and then provide it.
Alternate Plans: Have a plan B. Also have many, many more plans. Know where to flee on campus and off. Do any of your teammates live far away from campus and other civilization? Go there. Anyone have ammunition at home? Stop there on the way. But always, be willing to change your plans.
One day it may not end with the games.
One day, a faction may rise, smearing the blood of their enemies across their faces (or maybe just the ketchup from the student cafeteria), and declare that they will take campus by force, regardless of offers to surrender peacefully.
One day they may spread to another campus in their maddened frenzy for power.
Or
Zombies, aliens, or both will invade campus.
Regardless, college and university students have various options to increase survival.
Prepare
Always be as prepared as possible before war or invasion breaks out. Your friends will be grateful for a reduction of team deaths or captures by the enemy on your part.Campus Familiarity: Indispensable.
Layout: When running and/or hiding from an enemy, know where you are and where you are going. Trying to use a map will slow you down. Maps do not show you short cuts either. Take walks around campus often, exploring new areas.
Buildings: Know which buildings store what materials and which would make for the best base of operations. Is there chloroform in the science building? Where is the clinic, and what antibiotics are readily available there? Which building is easiest to barricade and defend? This is all important and should be taken into account. Unless the business building is the best built or closest to several buildings that you will need access to, it is not likely to make an efficient base.
Rations: Starving during war or invasion is less than ideal.
Campus Bookstore: The campus bookstore rarely has only books. Generally this is where students can find shirts, jackets, umbrellas, and other various merchandise that has the school name and mascot on it. There are also microwavable foods and candy bars. Clothes and food are fundamental rations.
Vending Machines: Know where the vending machines are. Take special note of what each one has to offer. Chances are, there will be some variation.
Store Runs: College and University students will often take trips off campus to buy food items that the bookstore or vending machines may not have, such as canned foods. When on a food run, purchase a little more than is absolutely necessary and stash it somewhere safe. Unless there is a sale, buying extra in bulk is not recommended because, as a student, you have little money and need to pay for laundry, which is still important at this point.
Dorm Rooms: Be aware of how much food is where. Chances are, many of your neighbors will die in the initial outbreak of violence as well as later on, and their food stashes will be free for your use.
Team: Yes, this does have to be a group project if you want better chances of survival.
Basic Team Building: This may be difficult for introverts (like myself) to accept, but long-term survival requires a team, and that means socializing beforehand in order to identify the best candidates. These people will need to be able to get along well under the worst conditions as well as have practical skills. Never select someone based on appearance. Betty may be pretty, but if she has nothing else to add, she'll likely get someone killed. If one of your candidates is in a relationship, either reject that one or be prepared to support the extra member (unless you wanted both of them anyway). Melodrama is a headache at best. Also: pick people who are just a little crazy, but also reasonable. Balance between logic and free creativity.
Recruitment: Be tactful. If they think you're insane, they'll have nothing to do with you.
Leader: Having a leader is crucial. This will be the person who will make decisions and has to get along well with the team. He or she must be logical and caring. Life must be valued, but willing to be sacrificed when necessary. It's a hard role, and while many may clamber for it, very few can be trusted with it. Be wise when selecting your leader.
Other Offices: You will need people of widely varying skill sets. Your team may designate jobs such as spy, procurer of transportation, etc. You could also have only the leader named and the rest simply teammates. So long as everyone is somehow useful, the team should hold together.
Weapon Planning: Anything is a possible weapon, and different team members will be skilled with different types of weapons. Know who is best with what and then provide it.
Alternate Plans: Have a plan B. Also have many, many more plans. Know where to flee on campus and off. Do any of your teammates live far away from campus and other civilization? Go there. Anyone have ammunition at home? Stop there on the way. But always, be willing to change your plans.
During
Team Work: Listen to your leader, cooperate with your team, and be willing to set yourself aside for their sake. A lot will go wrong, but it may not go as badly as possible.
Base and Rations: Be aware of how long you will be able to stay at your base. Rations for that location will eventually run out, even if you feel inclined to experiment with cannibalism (not recommended). Know how long your rations will last and how far you will be able to travel on those rations before needing more. Plan accordingly.
Base and Rations: Be aware of how long you will be able to stay at your base. Rations for that location will eventually run out, even if you feel inclined to experiment with cannibalism (not recommended). Know how long your rations will last and how far you will be able to travel on those rations before needing more. Plan accordingly.
Many thanks to Jason for his help with this post as well as for his valued friendship.
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Roses
Time, sun,
and we dry out.
Our dreams and velvet patience
evaporate, leaving us
hard and dark, curling up
a little more with each day. We crumble
at gentle touches.
Swept off the floor,
the counter, the table,
we give in to the final fate.
A breeze and we skitter
across the cool surfaces, soft
voices unfurling into stories.
Can it be:
roses do not simply die?
Fragerences last, as distant
voices whisper fading words.
Perhaps,
just maybe,
we still hold worth
to the special few.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
The Unexpected Gift
In the early morning,
before the sunrise,
little padded feet
approach the Christmas tree.
They are not the child's;
she rests above.
They are not Santa's,
for he has come and gone.
These belong
to a Christmas kitten,
covered in soft,
tabby fur.
She stalks the stocking
of the little girl.
She thought she saw it move.
Surely,
it moved.
The stocking falls over,
toppled by one quick whap.
Candy falls out,
but doesn't skitter.
It is the mane
of a little
unicorn
that draws the attention
of a pair
of gold green eyes.
Oh, alas.
The unicorn had no chance.
Pounced upon,
kicked,
and licked.
All
savagely.
A light clicks on,
and a gasp breaks free.
Little Tina on the landing.
Her unicorn badly mauled.
She doesn't cry.
She doesn't scream.
She laughs,
and that
by far
is her favorite gift
that night.
before the sunrise,
little padded feet
approach the Christmas tree.
They are not the child's;
she rests above.
They are not Santa's,
for he has come and gone.
These belong
to a Christmas kitten,
covered in soft,
tabby fur.
She stalks the stocking
of the little girl.
She thought she saw it move.
Surely,
it moved.
The stocking falls over,
toppled by one quick whap.
Candy falls out,
but doesn't skitter.
It is the mane
of a little
unicorn
that draws the attention
of a pair
of gold green eyes.
Oh, alas.
The unicorn had no chance.
Pounced upon,
kicked,
and licked.
All
savagely.
A light clicks on,
and a gasp breaks free.
Little Tina on the landing.
Her unicorn badly mauled.
She doesn't cry.
She doesn't scream.
She laughs,
and that
by far
is her favorite gift
that night.
Monday, November 24, 2014
Letter to Green Bean Casserole
Dear Green Bean Casserole,
It was a pleasant surprise to be able to renew our acquaintance at the church dinner. As of late, we have been quite out of touch, which is unforgivable on my part. Indeed, I had forgotten how thoroughly I enjoy your good company. It was a pity that you were unable to extend your stay more than a few minutes. We did used to be such good friends.
Part of my purpose in writing you is to extend an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner with my family. You would be most welcome to join us, and my sister would be exceptionally pleased to see you again as well. I will personally ensure that there are enough plates. Our mutual friend Turkey has already told me that his attendance is assured, and Stuffing is eager to hear from you. I do so hope you will come.
Hope toeat see you soon,
Kara
It was a pleasant surprise to be able to renew our acquaintance at the church dinner. As of late, we have been quite out of touch, which is unforgivable on my part. Indeed, I had forgotten how thoroughly I enjoy your good company. It was a pity that you were unable to extend your stay more than a few minutes. We did used to be such good friends.
Part of my purpose in writing you is to extend an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner with my family. You would be most welcome to join us, and my sister would be exceptionally pleased to see you again as well. I will personally ensure that there are enough plates. Our mutual friend Turkey has already told me that his attendance is assured, and Stuffing is eager to hear from you. I do so hope you will come.
Hope to
Kara
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Another Birthday
This post is on the topic of my big brother Ace. He is often insane, as far as I am concerned, and I doubt he could count how many times he has hurt himself with reckless behavior, but he has fun and he hasn't died yet, so I let it slide.
His birthday was Saturday, so I put together a little present for him.
It's a jar of paper stars designed to resemble the stars in Mario that give the player invincibility for a limited time. Considering his last blog post, I think he needs a little invincibility every once and a while.
Since Ace became my big brother during my freshman year of high school, he has always done his best to keep me safe. To reiterate: Ace is not actually related to me, but once I started calling him Big Brother, he took the job head on. He insists on screening any potential boyfriends and can be relied on to say they are not worthy whether or not he has actually met him yet. He really does care.
I met Ace at lunch the first day of my freshman year (note: he was a big, scary junior). At our school, there were two lunch periods, and I, of course, was in a period where I knew basically no one. I was near the verge of tears, but one of the upperclassmen took pity on me and let me sit with her. I was more than a little shy and didn't say much. When her boyfriend came to sit with the little group we were part of, all chances of me peeking out of my social shell were obliterated. There were several days, in fact, multiple weeks, during which I refused to speak to him. He terrified me for the simple reasons that he was older than me and he is a boy. The girls in our little lunch group tried to make me comfortable around him, often saying "He's just a big teddy bear!" I did not believe that.
Eventually, I did learn to trust him, and he became one of my closest friends. So, happy birthday Big Bro. Do try not to get hurt more than necessary. :)
His birthday was Saturday, so I put together a little present for him.
It's a jar of paper stars designed to resemble the stars in Mario that give the player invincibility for a limited time. Considering his last blog post, I think he needs a little invincibility every once and a while.
Since Ace became my big brother during my freshman year of high school, he has always done his best to keep me safe. To reiterate: Ace is not actually related to me, but once I started calling him Big Brother, he took the job head on. He insists on screening any potential boyfriends and can be relied on to say they are not worthy whether or not he has actually met him yet. He really does care.
I met Ace at lunch the first day of my freshman year (note: he was a big, scary junior). At our school, there were two lunch periods, and I, of course, was in a period where I knew basically no one. I was near the verge of tears, but one of the upperclassmen took pity on me and let me sit with her. I was more than a little shy and didn't say much. When her boyfriend came to sit with the little group we were part of, all chances of me peeking out of my social shell were obliterated. There were several days, in fact, multiple weeks, during which I refused to speak to him. He terrified me for the simple reasons that he was older than me and he is a boy. The girls in our little lunch group tried to make me comfortable around him, often saying "He's just a big teddy bear!" I did not believe that.
Eventually, I did learn to trust him, and he became one of my closest friends. So, happy birthday Big Bro. Do try not to get hurt more than necessary. :)
Monday, September 22, 2014
Beowulf
Herot saw Grendel
come to feast on man
flesh in joy.
Beowulf said no.
A terrible fight
and Beowulf is
victor.
Bad dude lost his
arm.
Grendel’s mom was
mad.
Then our hero killed
her too.
Beowulf. So cool.
He went home and
ruled
for fifty years in
glory.
Fate ruined it all.
Dragon went raging
through peaceful Geat
countryside.
Beowulf said no.
Though now old, he
fought.
The dragon wounded
the king.
Oh, that had to hurt.
Men were cowards, but
young Wiglaf ran to
help him.
Young fool or hero?
The dragon got
killed.
There was lots of
gold to loot.
Beowulf. He dead.
Funeral is sad.
Dudes are shamed, got
no fame.
Wiglaf is the man.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
A Letter to Spiders (#4)
Dear Spiders,
No.
Stop that.
There is no need to deploy your largest mercenaries. If you continue to do so, they will all be rendered two dimensional like the first one.
This is not a threat. This is a guarantee.
Go away, and please don't come back.
Sincerely,
Kara
No.
Stop that.
There is no need to deploy your largest mercenaries. If you continue to do so, they will all be rendered two dimensional like the first one.
This is not a threat. This is a guarantee.
Go away, and please don't come back.
Sincerely,
Kara
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Masquerade's End
The room stands gracefully full.
Bright colors swish
against slender ankles.
Ideals dance with dreams,
stepping in perfect time
around the ring, casting a spell.
Take care to not be caught.
Laughter finds an echo
in the gentle cacophony
and ricochets off a single heart.
There is no comfort here.
The food does not fill.
The spell is only an illusion.
A hand reaches up,
unties the chains.
The mask falls,
shatters.
Strewn glass and gems.
Far gone feathers.
The metal frame contorted,
bent grossly out of shape.
Stand.
Perfect.
Whole.
Cast aside
the glamor.
Bright colors swish
against slender ankles.
Ideals dance with dreams,
stepping in perfect time
around the ring, casting a spell.
Take care to not be caught.
Laughter finds an echo
in the gentle cacophony
and ricochets off a single heart.
There is no comfort here.
The food does not fill.
The spell is only an illusion.
A hand reaches up,
unties the chains.
The mask falls,
shatters.
Strewn glass and gems.
Far gone feathers.
The metal frame contorted,
bent grossly out of shape.
Stand.
Perfect.
Whole.
Cast aside
the glamor.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
Sound of Mind
It's looking at me, the blue bug. It glows. That's why they don't ever listen to me. Plenty of things glow. Lightning bugs. Lightning bugs... lightning... bugs. Bugs. The bug is still looking at me, even after six hours. It always watches me after I wake up. Does it watch me while I sleep?
I shudder. It scuttles a little closer. I glare at it. I know this routine, this dance, and I do not like it.
Footsteps. There are footsteps in the hall. I don't break eye contact. It happens more quickly when people are near. The bug doesn't want them to see it.
Voices. Oh no, not voices. I guess it decides it has risked enough for today.
It lands on the inside of my left elbow and burrows in in the blink of an eye. I squeeze my eyes shut and whimper. It has happened so many times; I handle the pain better, but it still hurts beyond belief.
The people in the hall come through my door. They are the ones who don't believe, who never never see.
"I'm just going to give you some medicine to help you sleep, okay?"
I start to cry uncontrollably. I don't want to sleep. I don't... I don't want to wake up.
I am sound of mind. I can operate on my own. I'm normal. Sound. Of. Mind. Sound... mind. The sound in... mind. The sound in my mind... the click click click of the bug...
I'm not crazy.
You believe me.
Right?
...right.
You don't.
I shudder. It scuttles a little closer. I glare at it. I know this routine, this dance, and I do not like it.
Footsteps. There are footsteps in the hall. I don't break eye contact. It happens more quickly when people are near. The bug doesn't want them to see it.
Voices. Oh no, not voices. I guess it decides it has risked enough for today.
It lands on the inside of my left elbow and burrows in in the blink of an eye. I squeeze my eyes shut and whimper. It has happened so many times; I handle the pain better, but it still hurts beyond belief.
The people in the hall come through my door. They are the ones who don't believe, who never never see.
"I'm just going to give you some medicine to help you sleep, okay?"
I start to cry uncontrollably. I don't want to sleep. I don't... I don't want to wake up.
I am sound of mind. I can operate on my own. I'm normal. Sound. Of. Mind. Sound... mind. The sound in... mind. The sound in my mind... the click click click of the bug...
I'm not crazy.
You believe me.
Right?
...right.
You don't.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
I Want To Believe
You remind me of the babe,
so
walk this way
and
listen with your heart.
It's bigger on the inside
because,
my Precious,
you're a wizard.
I'm a leaf on the wind,
and
no one knows the wonders I've seen.
I had bad days,
and
it always comes back to the duck.
Just
use the force,
beam me up,
and
dial the gate.
I want to believe.
Reference sources in respective order: Labyrinth,Young Frankenstein, Roar, Doctor Who, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Serenity, Farscape, BBC Sherlock, Fringe, Star Wars, Star Trek, Stargate, and The X-Files.
so
walk this way
and
listen with your heart.
It's bigger on the inside
because,
my Precious,
you're a wizard.
I'm a leaf on the wind,
and
no one knows the wonders I've seen.
I had bad days,
and
it always comes back to the duck.
Just
use the force,
beam me up,
and
dial the gate.
I want to believe.
Reference sources in respective order: Labyrinth,Young Frankenstein, Roar, Doctor Who, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Serenity, Farscape, BBC Sherlock, Fringe, Star Wars, Star Trek, Stargate, and The X-Files.
Monday, May 27, 2013
The Fairy Queen's Maid
Once there lived a girl named Daisy. She had golden hair, green eyes, and porcelain skin. Her father was a wood cutter, and he loved her very much. Anytime she went to play in the forest, he cautioned her to be careful and not to wander too far. He died when she was seven. Now, Daisy had a brown tabby cat that she loved with all her heart. The day her father died, she wept and wept, but her cat pawed at her arm and said, "Get to your feet, Child. You must find your way in the world, or there'll be no food for either of us.
"But Kitty," the young girl sniffled, "I have no skills with which to make my way."
"Hush now, pack your clothes and any food you can find." Kitty said, "I know where we can find work, but it may take a few nights to reach. When you're packed, go to sleep, for the path may only be seen in moonlight."
Daisy did as she was told and soon was fast asleep. She awoke to the calling of Kitty and hurried to her.
"It's time to leave. Are you afraid?"
"No, Kitty. I am not afraid."
With that, the two slipped into the night, following a moon milk silver path. They silently stole past the sleeping doe, the hunting wolf, and the singing insects, as they entered the woods. It was hours before either spoke, but Daisy finally did.
"Kitty, where is it we will find work?"
"At the Fairy Queen's palace, Little One," Kitty purred.
These words Daisy took to heart, for the Queen of fairies was said to be the kindest and most beautiful being. No human had ever found her palace, but Daisy trusted Kitty more than anyone else, so she picked up her pace and followed the cat as diligently as ever. For many more hours, they walked.
"Oh Kitty!" Daisy finally burst, "I am so thirsty. Please let us rest for a spell."
"Dear child," the cat responded, "we mustn't stop yet. A little bag of water is in your pack. Drink from it."
Daisy did as she was told, and not long after, they reached a little glade.
"Here we will rest." Kitty said, and rest they did, until the next day's sun set in the west.
"Wake, Child. We must be on our way."
They walked for hours and hours in silence until Daisy cried out to Kitty, "Oh Kitty! I am so hungry. Please let us rest for a spell."
But Kitty replied, "Dear child, we mustn't stop yet. There is food in your pack. Eat of that."
Daisy did as she was told, and not long after, they reached a second little glade.
"Here we will rest." Kitty said, and rest they did, until the next day's sun set in the west. Then they awoke and continued on their way. They walked for longer than they had either night before, and Daisy began to be afraid that they would never stop. "Oh Kitty," she wept, "I am so tired. Please let us rest for a spell."
"Dear child," Kitty whispered, "we mustn't stop yet. A little farther, I beg you."
And so Daisy continued on, weeping, for her shoes were worn to tatters and her legs could barely support her, but it was not long after that they reached a third little glade where Kitty told her to rest. It was when the next day's sun was high that Kitty woke Daisy.
"Child," she purred, "we are nearly at the Fairy Queen's palace. We must now follow the path lined with rose bushes."
In moments, they reached the palace. There they were given baths, food, and a good night's sleep. The next day, they had an audience with the Queen, who was as lovely as any story and more. She had the longest golden tresses, that rivaled the sun; violet eyes, that inspired song; and a smile like every mother's. Upon hearing of Daisy's predicament, she insisted on being of help. It was thus that, as long as Daisy helped the maids wherever she could, she would be provided with food, an education, and a place to sleep. Kitty was also provided with food and was allowed to sleep with Daisy, if she kept the mouse and rat population to a minimum. They lived there happily for many years, and Daisy grew into a beautiful young woman.
She was out in the forest one day, gathering berries, when she saw a magnificent grasshopper caught in a web. Her heart ached with sympathy, and she cut him loose.
"Thank you fair maiden," he said with a bow, "What can I do to repay you?"
"Nothing is needed," the sweet Daisy replied
"Then take this crown, for I am the King of grasshoppers, and when you need me, put it on your little finger, and I will be there."
"Thank you very much." Daisy took the crown, put it in her pocket, and continued along.
The next day, she was sent to the fairy market. On her way down the path, Daisy heard a frog crying at the bank of a pond
"Whatever is the matter?" she asked.
"I was playing with my silver ball, but when I threw it into the air, it became lodged in that tree above us, and now I can't reach it."
"Oh." Daisy said. She looked up and spotted the ball. It was just out of her reach. Refusing to give up, for a weeping frog is the most heart wrenching sound, Daisy picked up a stick and poked at the ball until it fell to the ground, where the frog happily reclaimed it.
"Thank you so much!" he croaked, "As heir to the amphibian throne, I vow that, should you ever need my assistance in return, you need only drop a pebble in this pond."
"Thank you," Daisy said, and she picked up a pebble and slipped it in her pocket.
A week later, she was tending the fire in the great hall after everyone else had gone to bed, when she saw something moving in the flames. A salamander had become trapped when a piece of wood fell on top of his tail.
Taking the poker, Daisy lifted the wood just long enough for the salamander to crawl out.
"Many thanks, I don't know how long I would have been trapped, if not for you," he gasped.
"It was the least I could do." she assured him.
"My kingdom and I are in debt to you," he said, "Take this piece of charcoal, and, if you ever need my help, throw it into a fire."
She graciously accepted the gift and slid it into her pocket. It was months before she ever needed any of their help.
It came to pass that the Fairy Queen called Daisy into the throne room.
"Dearest Daisy," the Queen said, "my cousin seeks a bride, and you are kind, beautiful, and true to your word. I do not know of a better bride. If you are willing, he has set three tasks that you must complete, for his bride must be worthy."
"I would love nothing more." Daisy replied, for the Queen's cousin was rumored to be a true and wise gentleman.
"The first task is to raise an army that is small but large. He will be here in the morning."
Later in the day, Daisy related all of this to Kitty, who softly replied, "Call upon the Grasshopper King. I have a plan for you."
So Daisy placed the crown on her little finger, and Kitty explained her plan to him.
The next day, the Queen's cousin was greeted by an army of grasshoppers, riding steeds of mice. They numbered in the thousands, and he consented that, although they were small, they certainly made a large army. He then set the next task: to bring forth a wonderful sound from an unconventional orchestra. She had two weeks time.
Daisy didn't need Kitty's advice this time. She hurried down to the frog prince's pond and dropped the pebble in.
"How may I help you?" he burbled, for his mouth was still partly underwater.
"I need your finest musicians to play a song at the palace of the Fairy Queen in two weeks time. I hope I'm not asking too much."
"Consider it done."
And indeed, in two weeks, everyone in the palace was drawn to the windows by the sweetest sound. The fairy children rushed to the courtyard and tried to dance like adults. The adults closed their eyes and let the sounds wash over them.
"Well done," the Fairy Queen's cousin told Daisy, "Tomorrow, you will answer a riddle."
The next morning, Daisy was brought to the throne room.
"Tell me," the Queen's cousin began, "What burns in our homes, out of our homes, and is not fire? What has a heart and a mind, but is rarely seen?"
Daisy thought and was at a loss until she felt the charcoal in her pocket. Then she laughed. "The answer is that which is lost in legend, the salamander."
After she returned to her room, she threw the charcoal into the fire and thanked the Salamander King for his help.
The morning of the wedding, which was to be a grand affair with fairies, grasshoppers, amphibians, and salamanders in attendance, Daisy stood by a window alongside Kitty.
"Are you afraid?" Kitty asked.
"Yes, Kitty. I am very afraid."
"You needn't be, for I will be with you always."
And she was.
"But Kitty," the young girl sniffled, "I have no skills with which to make my way."
"Hush now, pack your clothes and any food you can find." Kitty said, "I know where we can find work, but it may take a few nights to reach. When you're packed, go to sleep, for the path may only be seen in moonlight."
Daisy did as she was told and soon was fast asleep. She awoke to the calling of Kitty and hurried to her.
"It's time to leave. Are you afraid?"
"No, Kitty. I am not afraid."
With that, the two slipped into the night, following a moon milk silver path. They silently stole past the sleeping doe, the hunting wolf, and the singing insects, as they entered the woods. It was hours before either spoke, but Daisy finally did.
"Kitty, where is it we will find work?"
"At the Fairy Queen's palace, Little One," Kitty purred.
These words Daisy took to heart, for the Queen of fairies was said to be the kindest and most beautiful being. No human had ever found her palace, but Daisy trusted Kitty more than anyone else, so she picked up her pace and followed the cat as diligently as ever. For many more hours, they walked.
"Oh Kitty!" Daisy finally burst, "I am so thirsty. Please let us rest for a spell."
"Dear child," the cat responded, "we mustn't stop yet. A little bag of water is in your pack. Drink from it."
Daisy did as she was told, and not long after, they reached a little glade.
"Here we will rest." Kitty said, and rest they did, until the next day's sun set in the west.
"Wake, Child. We must be on our way."
They walked for hours and hours in silence until Daisy cried out to Kitty, "Oh Kitty! I am so hungry. Please let us rest for a spell."
But Kitty replied, "Dear child, we mustn't stop yet. There is food in your pack. Eat of that."
Daisy did as she was told, and not long after, they reached a second little glade.
"Here we will rest." Kitty said, and rest they did, until the next day's sun set in the west. Then they awoke and continued on their way. They walked for longer than they had either night before, and Daisy began to be afraid that they would never stop. "Oh Kitty," she wept, "I am so tired. Please let us rest for a spell."
"Dear child," Kitty whispered, "we mustn't stop yet. A little farther, I beg you."
And so Daisy continued on, weeping, for her shoes were worn to tatters and her legs could barely support her, but it was not long after that they reached a third little glade where Kitty told her to rest. It was when the next day's sun was high that Kitty woke Daisy.
"Child," she purred, "we are nearly at the Fairy Queen's palace. We must now follow the path lined with rose bushes."
In moments, they reached the palace. There they were given baths, food, and a good night's sleep. The next day, they had an audience with the Queen, who was as lovely as any story and more. She had the longest golden tresses, that rivaled the sun; violet eyes, that inspired song; and a smile like every mother's. Upon hearing of Daisy's predicament, she insisted on being of help. It was thus that, as long as Daisy helped the maids wherever she could, she would be provided with food, an education, and a place to sleep. Kitty was also provided with food and was allowed to sleep with Daisy, if she kept the mouse and rat population to a minimum. They lived there happily for many years, and Daisy grew into a beautiful young woman.
She was out in the forest one day, gathering berries, when she saw a magnificent grasshopper caught in a web. Her heart ached with sympathy, and she cut him loose.
"Thank you fair maiden," he said with a bow, "What can I do to repay you?"
"Nothing is needed," the sweet Daisy replied
"Then take this crown, for I am the King of grasshoppers, and when you need me, put it on your little finger, and I will be there."
"Thank you very much." Daisy took the crown, put it in her pocket, and continued along.
The next day, she was sent to the fairy market. On her way down the path, Daisy heard a frog crying at the bank of a pond
"Whatever is the matter?" she asked.
"I was playing with my silver ball, but when I threw it into the air, it became lodged in that tree above us, and now I can't reach it."
"Oh." Daisy said. She looked up and spotted the ball. It was just out of her reach. Refusing to give up, for a weeping frog is the most heart wrenching sound, Daisy picked up a stick and poked at the ball until it fell to the ground, where the frog happily reclaimed it.
"Thank you so much!" he croaked, "As heir to the amphibian throne, I vow that, should you ever need my assistance in return, you need only drop a pebble in this pond."
"Thank you," Daisy said, and she picked up a pebble and slipped it in her pocket.
A week later, she was tending the fire in the great hall after everyone else had gone to bed, when she saw something moving in the flames. A salamander had become trapped when a piece of wood fell on top of his tail.
Taking the poker, Daisy lifted the wood just long enough for the salamander to crawl out.
"Many thanks, I don't know how long I would have been trapped, if not for you," he gasped.
"It was the least I could do." she assured him.
"My kingdom and I are in debt to you," he said, "Take this piece of charcoal, and, if you ever need my help, throw it into a fire."
She graciously accepted the gift and slid it into her pocket. It was months before she ever needed any of their help.
It came to pass that the Fairy Queen called Daisy into the throne room.
"Dearest Daisy," the Queen said, "my cousin seeks a bride, and you are kind, beautiful, and true to your word. I do not know of a better bride. If you are willing, he has set three tasks that you must complete, for his bride must be worthy."
"I would love nothing more." Daisy replied, for the Queen's cousin was rumored to be a true and wise gentleman.
"The first task is to raise an army that is small but large. He will be here in the morning."
Later in the day, Daisy related all of this to Kitty, who softly replied, "Call upon the Grasshopper King. I have a plan for you."
So Daisy placed the crown on her little finger, and Kitty explained her plan to him.
The next day, the Queen's cousin was greeted by an army of grasshoppers, riding steeds of mice. They numbered in the thousands, and he consented that, although they were small, they certainly made a large army. He then set the next task: to bring forth a wonderful sound from an unconventional orchestra. She had two weeks time.
Daisy didn't need Kitty's advice this time. She hurried down to the frog prince's pond and dropped the pebble in.
"How may I help you?" he burbled, for his mouth was still partly underwater.
"I need your finest musicians to play a song at the palace of the Fairy Queen in two weeks time. I hope I'm not asking too much."
"Consider it done."
And indeed, in two weeks, everyone in the palace was drawn to the windows by the sweetest sound. The fairy children rushed to the courtyard and tried to dance like adults. The adults closed their eyes and let the sounds wash over them.
"Well done," the Fairy Queen's cousin told Daisy, "Tomorrow, you will answer a riddle."
The next morning, Daisy was brought to the throne room.
"Tell me," the Queen's cousin began, "What burns in our homes, out of our homes, and is not fire? What has a heart and a mind, but is rarely seen?"
Daisy thought and was at a loss until she felt the charcoal in her pocket. Then she laughed. "The answer is that which is lost in legend, the salamander."
After she returned to her room, she threw the charcoal into the fire and thanked the Salamander King for his help.
The morning of the wedding, which was to be a grand affair with fairies, grasshoppers, amphibians, and salamanders in attendance, Daisy stood by a window alongside Kitty.
"Are you afraid?" Kitty asked.
"Yes, Kitty. I am very afraid."
"You needn't be, for I will be with you always."
And she was.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Letter to Fitted Sheets
Dear F. S.,
While I admit that you do seem difficult to manage at first, you truly are a friend.
I pulled you from your temporary home and fluffed you out. What pains had gone into folding you? Instead of landing on my mattress like planned, you settled on my head. I burst into laughter. Was it the weather or the general good day? No. No such dry and logical grownup reason as that. You'd tickled my childhood, memories of pillow and blanket forts, of making a cave from blankets on the bed by use of the fan, of secret B.A.C. meetings with my sister, though I have by now forgotten what B.A.C. stood for.
I just wanted to thank you for that cool wave of joy that flooded through me when you touched the crown of my head. While you were not specifically in my childhood, you called my attention back to those happy summer days. Thank you.
Your friend and ally,
Kara
While I admit that you do seem difficult to manage at first, you truly are a friend.
I pulled you from your temporary home and fluffed you out. What pains had gone into folding you? Instead of landing on my mattress like planned, you settled on my head. I burst into laughter. Was it the weather or the general good day? No. No such dry and logical grownup reason as that. You'd tickled my childhood, memories of pillow and blanket forts, of making a cave from blankets on the bed by use of the fan, of secret B.A.C. meetings with my sister, though I have by now forgotten what B.A.C. stood for.
I just wanted to thank you for that cool wave of joy that flooded through me when you touched the crown of my head. While you were not specifically in my childhood, you called my attention back to those happy summer days. Thank you.
Your friend and ally,
Kara
Sunday, April 28, 2013
A Most Sincere Letter to Pinterest
Pinterest,
We've gotten to know each other very well in the last few months, and I find you to be more amiable than facebook. I haven't been as amazing a friend to you as you are to me, but that's because it's difficult with you being a website and all. Even so, I find that I spend inordinate amounts of time with you. If you were a person, we'd probably get along quite well.
It's just, well, I need to spend more time doing things instead of looking at pretty pictures. It's not that you're without your uses. I'll still visit for artistic purposes and practical household advice, but even though you can steal hours of my day, you can make me smile. I promise to still visit.
Yours truly,
Kara
We've gotten to know each other very well in the last few months, and I find you to be more amiable than facebook. I haven't been as amazing a friend to you as you are to me, but that's because it's difficult with you being a website and all. Even so, I find that I spend inordinate amounts of time with you. If you were a person, we'd probably get along quite well.
It's just, well, I need to spend more time doing things instead of looking at pretty pictures. It's not that you're without your uses. I'll still visit for artistic purposes and practical household advice, but even though you can steal hours of my day, you can make me smile. I promise to still visit.
Yours truly,
Kara
Thursday, April 25, 2013
My Wil-O-Wisp
It's national poetry month and I've finally written a poem. I don't know where it came from. It just... came. This poem is for all children who have left their parents early.
Whisper
and listen,
my little wil-o-wisp.
Can you hear
the tree frogs?
The night birds?
They're singing for you.
They sing
to welcome you
into their realm.
Gaze
at the stars.
See?
They wear their best
for you.
Will you dance?
Will you dance with them?
Go my child.
Dance among the stars
to the night music.
I will follow
in my time.
One day.
One day I will follow.
Till then
dance,
dance among the stars.
Whisper
and listen,
my little wil-o-wisp.
Can you hear
the tree frogs?
The night birds?
They're singing for you.
They sing
to welcome you
into their realm.
Gaze
at the stars.
See?
They wear their best
for you.
Will you dance?
Will you dance with them?
Go my child.
Dance among the stars
to the night music.
I will follow
in my time.
One day.
One day I will follow.
Till then
dance,
dance among the stars.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
The Meatloaf
Two olive eyes glare at me. I guess they're really more like spots. They belong to it. It being the thing my
father keeps speaking of eating. We know all too well that he won’t. It’s obviously years
past its expiration date. It’s at least eleven years old, the eleven year old meatloaf.
I don’t recall when it started to lose the pan shape. Sometimes it looks vaguely square, but more often than not, it just... is. Shape is hard to describe once hair sprouts, long hair. It’s not all the same color. There’s orange, white, black, but mostly a variety of browns, ranging from a beige to a dark chocolate. Oh, did I mention that it has legs?
It stalks around the house sometimes. Often, it follows me, making... noises, but it will also sit under my desk chair when I’m working, or just lounge on my bed, which is mostly what it does. In the night, I can hear it rumbling from somewhere in the dark. Waking up with its longest hairs up my nose, or in my ear, is not a favorite sensation.
We’re not exactly certain if it is intelligent. Dad says it has the IQ of a tongue depressor. If it is remotely sapient, I believe that The Meatloaf is secretly plotting to take over the house, possibly the county. It might be interested in using us as a food source. It tastes me once a month or so, but its motives are unclear at this time. I’m certain it goes through the papers I leave out while I’m at school. It would, quite possibly, be unstoppable, if it had thumbs.
We have lived peaceably, The Meatloaf and I, these many years. While it has sprouted teeth, nothing much comes from biting me or rubbing its drool or snot on my bare toes. I feed it because, honestly, I’m afraid of what it would eat if I didn’t. It will attack or even chase after our pets, and I will swat at it. Every once and awhile, I try to talk to it, but either it doesn’t understand or doesn’t care.
I don’t recall when it started to lose the pan shape. Sometimes it looks vaguely square, but more often than not, it just... is. Shape is hard to describe once hair sprouts, long hair. It’s not all the same color. There’s orange, white, black, but mostly a variety of browns, ranging from a beige to a dark chocolate. Oh, did I mention that it has legs?
It stalks around the house sometimes. Often, it follows me, making... noises, but it will also sit under my desk chair when I’m working, or just lounge on my bed, which is mostly what it does. In the night, I can hear it rumbling from somewhere in the dark. Waking up with its longest hairs up my nose, or in my ear, is not a favorite sensation.
We’re not exactly certain if it is intelligent. Dad says it has the IQ of a tongue depressor. If it is remotely sapient, I believe that The Meatloaf is secretly plotting to take over the house, possibly the county. It might be interested in using us as a food source. It tastes me once a month or so, but its motives are unclear at this time. I’m certain it goes through the papers I leave out while I’m at school. It would, quite possibly, be unstoppable, if it had thumbs.
We have lived peaceably, The Meatloaf and I, these many years. While it has sprouted teeth, nothing much comes from biting me or rubbing its drool or snot on my bare toes. I feed it because, honestly, I’m afraid of what it would eat if I didn’t. It will attack or even chase after our pets, and I will swat at it. Every once and awhile, I try to talk to it, but either it doesn’t understand or doesn’t care.
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