I love strawberries. When I was little, I would call them "strawbabys". I have no idea why, but it's better than accidentally calling hamburgers "hamboogers", which I also did. There was a strawberry patch in my current backyard actually, until it was run over by a truck. The general consensus was that there would be no more little, tasty (though watery) strawberries. Wednesday, I went to put my items for work in the car so that I could just get in the car and go when it was time to leave for work. It was then that something bright red caught my eye. Intrigued, I ventured forward to the small rectangular patch of miscellaneous short plants. Oh look, little strawberries. How surprised you, my reader, must be. I promptly took the ripe ones of a corner into the house. Eight. One, as big as a store bought strawberry. I ate two, then rebrushed my teeth before work.
When I returned home I grabbed a bowl and went outside. I do admit that I jumped and drew my hand back from the weed infested strawberry patch more than once for fear of spiders. The bowl was overflowing after I had only combed through the edges. Once inside, two strawberries, one of which was particularly stubborn, kept trying to make a leap for it. I filled the sink a little ways with water, washed them, dried them, and put them in a bigger bowl. I felt very useful.
I apologize for not telling you more, but in truth life has been full of ennui. In fact it is much like the Henri videos. There are two. The part about making new friends reminded me of Lil-Bit. She has the same problem. If you don't recall, Lil-Bit is my calico kitten. She is about two thirds the size of the Lady of Shed-Lots, whom is routinely referred to as "The Meatloaf".
Showing posts with label Random. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random. Show all posts
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Sunday, October 30, 2011
A Blog Post About Bloging That Includes A Short Story About A Werewolf
This is me, being a terrible person. I feel really really guilty that I haven't posted since September 12th, and I have had people view this blog fairly regularly. Well, unless of course the "stats" that Blogger is providing me with aren't mine... if that is the case, I feel really sorry for whoever would end up with my "stats". Seriously though, for those of you that do read my writing, I appreciate it. To look at the "stats" and see that almost everyday one or two people have looked at my blog makes me incredibly happy. It's really easy to get depressed when I see that people haven't commented, but at least I know you're there even if you are invisible. I am not someone who comments on other blogs either, but just this once, even if you decide to never again read my blog, comment. Writers NEED to be told how we are doing. If I have terrible grammar or use the wrong "there" (or "their" or "they're") tell me. It helps out a lot. If I'm doing well tell me. Sometimes I need a little encouragement.
Now, to today's true purpose. Tomorrow is Halloween. Almost everyone has dressed up, or told a scary story around this time of year. Today's goal for me is to tell you a possibly scary story. What should it be about? Radio active kittens? Street prowling grannies that beat innocent trick-or-treating children up in allies with big purses? Spiders that can control people's minds? Narcoleptic zombies? None of those. At least not this time. Maybe next year. This year is the year of the pyromaniac 18 year old werewolf named Steve, that happens to be germaphobic when in his wolf state. He lives in 21st century London, England. It may not turn out to be scary, but we'll see where it takes us.
Steve glanced out his window. The moon would soon rise over the tall buildings, living in a tall city helped keep the wolf a bay a little longer. He flipped his lighter open, closed, open, closed, open, closed. A pointed pain began to eat at his side. It was as if a small sharp toothed animal were trying to eat its way out. He shook his head, tossing dark curls a little to the side. Groaning, Steve stood up and walked into the cellar and locked the door. The only way out now was the slightly large doggy door that lead outside. He had learned from experience that letting the wolf into his house was not a good idea. It only resulted in torn up furniture and missing house shoes. The wolf preferred to be outside where the streets were (some of them) unexplored and the meat was fresh. Speaking of the wolf, the change finished rather quickly once Steve let himself go limp on the floor. I will not describe it, as the change churns the stomach of even the most experienced individual. The wolf scrambled to its feet and shook its glossy black fur.
The wolf was a dignified member of The Committee of the Werewolves of London (C.W.L.). He liked to be called Unferth. The only thing that he had in common with Steve was black fur, in Steve's case hair, and a love of fire (the human part of any wolf was completely unaware of the C.W.L.). He also liked long walks in the park and quiet midnights with a fresh bone to gnaw upon.
Unferth padded over to the bowl of Germ-Ex that Steve had thoughtfully placed near the doggy door and dipped his paws in. Not only is fire beautiful, but it also cleanses of germs even if only temporarily, Unferth thought to himself. What he wanted was to stay inside, away from germs, but Steve had become very careful to lock the door, so indoors was not an option. Bravely he pushed through the doggy door into the germ filled place that is London.
Approximately eight hours later half of London was on fire, multiple people had been ripped to shreds, all the cats that had been outside were up trees, and it was to be blamed on the C.W.L., well most of it was. The fire was completely Unferth's fault.
THE END
Now, to today's true purpose. Tomorrow is Halloween. Almost everyone has dressed up, or told a scary story around this time of year. Today's goal for me is to tell you a possibly scary story. What should it be about? Radio active kittens? Street prowling grannies that beat innocent trick-or-treating children up in allies with big purses? Spiders that can control people's minds? Narcoleptic zombies? None of those. At least not this time. Maybe next year. This year is the year of the pyromaniac 18 year old werewolf named Steve, that happens to be germaphobic when in his wolf state. He lives in 21st century London, England. It may not turn out to be scary, but we'll see where it takes us.
Steve glanced out his window. The moon would soon rise over the tall buildings, living in a tall city helped keep the wolf a bay a little longer. He flipped his lighter open, closed, open, closed, open, closed. A pointed pain began to eat at his side. It was as if a small sharp toothed animal were trying to eat its way out. He shook his head, tossing dark curls a little to the side. Groaning, Steve stood up and walked into the cellar and locked the door. The only way out now was the slightly large doggy door that lead outside. He had learned from experience that letting the wolf into his house was not a good idea. It only resulted in torn up furniture and missing house shoes. The wolf preferred to be outside where the streets were (some of them) unexplored and the meat was fresh. Speaking of the wolf, the change finished rather quickly once Steve let himself go limp on the floor. I will not describe it, as the change churns the stomach of even the most experienced individual. The wolf scrambled to its feet and shook its glossy black fur.
The wolf was a dignified member of The Committee of the Werewolves of London (C.W.L.). He liked to be called Unferth. The only thing that he had in common with Steve was black fur, in Steve's case hair, and a love of fire (the human part of any wolf was completely unaware of the C.W.L.). He also liked long walks in the park and quiet midnights with a fresh bone to gnaw upon.
Unferth padded over to the bowl of Germ-Ex that Steve had thoughtfully placed near the doggy door and dipped his paws in. Not only is fire beautiful, but it also cleanses of germs even if only temporarily, Unferth thought to himself. What he wanted was to stay inside, away from germs, but Steve had become very careful to lock the door, so indoors was not an option. Bravely he pushed through the doggy door into the germ filled place that is London.
Approximately eight hours later half of London was on fire, multiple people had been ripped to shreds, all the cats that had been outside were up trees, and it was to be blamed on the C.W.L., well most of it was. The fire was completely Unferth's fault.
THE END
Monday, August 29, 2011
Fairy Tales Cannot Be Trusted
Once upon a time there was a beutiful young woman who fell in love with a prince. So deeply did she love him that she refused to consider marrying another man. One day the prince married the princess of a neighboring kingdom, but still the young woman would not entertain the thought of loving someone else. She died poor, old, and alone. The prince never knew and if he had he wouldn't have cared.
THE END
(Because Fairy Tales can be wrong.)
THE END
(Because Fairy Tales can be wrong.)
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Smiley Faces
People are always making faces using letters and symbols. It happens in texts, facebook, and a couple other places. I sometimes make up my own. The following are of my own imagination and if someone else has already made them before me, I was unaware.
c|:)
someone in a hat
[:)]
in my crate
:| >--
someone in a tie
:O=
barf
.-.
upside down
:}
must... not... smile...
:^)
I've got a pointy nose!
: || )
blush
`-`
look to the side...
U-.-U
sleepy puppy
[ ] :)
out of my crate
d_b
angry
*.*
Oooooh! Sparkles!
c|:)
someone in a hat
[:)]
in my crate
:| >--
someone in a tie
:O=
barf
.-.
upside down
:}
must... not... smile...
:^)
I've got a pointy nose!
: || )
blush
`-`
look to the side...
U-.-U
sleepy puppy
[ ] :)
out of my crate
d_b
angry
*.*
Oooooh! Sparkles!
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Gurgle's Justice
Once there was an alien. It lived under a bridge. It had been content to play Tetris, but one day a meteor landed on top of his bridge crushing it. Thankfully the alien had been paying his electricity bill and had not died. Gurgle, the alien, was not happy to come home to a ruined bridge. Aiming for vengeance he struck out to find the beings that had sent the meteor into his peaceful home.
He rode in planes, sailed in boats, and tunneled through the ground until he reached the home of Burgundy the fish. Burgundy told him that Jiggle the beetle had gained mysterious powers over the cosmos. Thus Gurgle traveled until he reached the log, beneath which Jiggle lived. He then left, went to his spaceship, latched onto the moon with his gravity beam and dropped it on Juggle's house. Justice now served, Gurgle rented and new bridge to live under, but before he could unlock the door he fell asleep. It had been a long day/night.
He rode in planes, sailed in boats, and tunneled through the ground until he reached the home of Burgundy the fish. Burgundy told him that Jiggle the beetle had gained mysterious powers over the cosmos. Thus Gurgle traveled until he reached the log, beneath which Jiggle lived. He then left, went to his spaceship, latched onto the moon with his gravity beam and dropped it on Juggle's house. Justice now served, Gurgle rented and new bridge to live under, but before he could unlock the door he fell asleep. It had been a long day/night.
The Prince of Bananas
Once upon a time there was a banana. Only this was not any banana, it was the crown prince of bananas. Everyday the prince banana, who went by Rupert, would watch over his people. As the kingdom (which admittedly had only eight citizens) turned from green to a vibrant yellow it was magically transported away from the cool shelf on which it had been to a basket somewhere far away. Throughout the years (banana years)his citizens vanished and Rupert became old and brown. He was visited frequently by small bugs, but one day a large hand picked him up and threw him down a chute. A grinding, whirring sound was heard and that was the last anyone knew of Prince Rupert of the Bananas.
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