For some reason, this strip reminds me a lot of the discussion we had over Yahoo Messenger.
You know, the one that inspired the Lonely Morning Haze part 2 story?
Well, I'm sure you'll grow out of it. (I get to say that since I'm older than you.)
*name changed at the said person's behest.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Monday, June 27, 2005
Parental Expectations
It's funny how snippets of wisdom end up in comic strips. In my case, here's a strip about Parental Expectations and how parents tend to treat children who fail them. I'm sure a lot of us have encountered this kind of treatment before.
Sometimes, it's good to have a laugh at the tough things in life. :p
Sometimes, it's good to have a laugh at the tough things in life. :p
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Historic Tale Construction Kit...
Hast thou ever had the stirrings of the bard in thine bossom? Hast thou ever felt that thine imaginations doth put ancient legends to shayme?
Hereth is thine opportunity!
Simply clicke upon yonder Linke, and marvel at thine genius!
Onward!
Hereth is thine opportunity!
Simply clicke upon yonder Linke, and marvel at thine genius!
Onward!
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
[Weekly Challenge] Purple
Peter was dead way before his time. Thankfully, nobody had gone and told him about it. He was six at the time, a rather impressionable child with trusting blue eyes and dreams of making it big in the world someday, like a fireman. There was no tragic accident that led to his demise, just a child in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Lightning strikes were not very common ways to die, but any person ever caught outdoors in a thunderstorm has experienced the creeping fear of it. Peter was no exception. It was a particularly vicious storm, and little Peter was running as fast as his short little legs could take him, headed for the only place he could think of that was safe... home.
His hair was wet and his clothes were wet. He wiped the hair away from his eyes as he ran, his breathing ragged and his side hurting. It was then that he felt odd, like little spiders crawling over his body. That rather disconcerting feeling ended rather quickly though. The CRACK! of lighting breaking the bones of his body, hurling him a good fifteen or so meters away with the smell of burning flesh had a way of getting rid of it.
It was a week later when his parents decided that their child wasn't coming back, having spent the entire week out in a beachside vacation, carefuly making sure that there was a weeks worth of milk and cereal by the table. And so they decided to make a new baby. New babies were fun to make anyway.
Little peter was dead for a week. It was the smell that woke him up, no longer the strangely delicious pork chop like smell after the lightning hit, but rather the stinky smell of his pet mouse, when it decided to go to sleep for a long, long time.
Peter figured that going to sleep for a long, long time was rather un-fun. So he stood up. It felt strange to be all soft, and crispy on one part of his back, but it was okay.
----
Peter was now officially 30, his corpse-like body had matured into a rather handsome zombie, and his near religious applications of formaldehyde solutions helped keep him from falling apart. He was a smart lad, learning that one could earn money from doing work that nobody liked. He never needed to eat anymore, nor did he need to sleep, or even go potty.
Imagine if you will, the world's perfect worker! Peter was like that, an endless fountain of productivity. His work ethic was fantastic, and his ability to maintain output levels 24/7 drove him higher and higher to the company ladder, until he became... a partner.
Being a partner was interesting, Peter concluded, one had things that people called benefits. He had life insurance, which he really didn't need, discounts at restaurants, which he never really dined in, and "special" considerations in little strip clubs which never really quite interested him... due to a certain lack of bodily functions. As such, Peter became rather bored.
It was times like these that Peter spoke to himself.
"Well, that's it." he said, as he sat down on his big swivel chair, "I've managed to reach high above the others in the corporate ladder. I've managed to somehow keep on living when by all means I should be dead." his eyes narrowed. "I have nothing to exist for."
He sat there, brooding, no breath to breakt he silence, as his eyes roamed falling on a newspaper. NEW CANDIDATES FOR PRESIDENCY COMING OUT OF THE WOODWORK, it blared.
Something stirred within the deep recesses of Peter's mind.
"That's it!" he stood holding a finger up in the air in a cliched pose of sudden genius, "I'll become president!"
"This is exactly what this country needs!" he paced back and forth, musing, "A president who will WORK for the country, a leader who has no mundane needs. I will not sleep, nor eat, nor waste my money on booze, fatty foods and movie star whores!" he grinned a dead man's grin.
And in the coming months, the country was taken by storm! Little Peter, the dead boy who worked his way up to the top of the corporate world, was running for president!
And yet, all was not well. Peter's ratings sank, nobody knew how to identify with a dead man.
"What I need is something... anything..." he pondered, his deceased fingers clicking on his mouse, "I need a symbol... something that they will instantly remind them of me."
It was then that he stumbled upon the colors of politcs. From firey reds of hard work and idealism, to the yellows of unity and peace, to the blues of freedom... but nothing struck his fancy.
"These are not the colors for me." Peter said, looking over the colors in his mind. Black for protest and White for mourning... "I need a new color, one that the world remembers but has never used..."
Purple. The color of emperors and mourning priests. It was perfect. Peter had his name changed immediately, and campaign materials flowed from the printing presses in the color he had chosen...
"I am Purple!" he yelled into the mike, to the cheers of thousands upon thousands of fans, "I am a dead man, yes, but a dead man who will make your lives better! I died, but do not let the stop you from living a second, better life! I need no sleep! I need no food! I need no sex! Let me bury your fears! Vote me! Vote me!"
His campaign worked, Purple, had won the hearts and the minds of the common man, his administration was demanding, but fair. He could not be bribed, he had no vices, he did not sleep. He was, by all means, the perfect president.
But it was not to be. Purple sat atop a float in a parade, purple streamers flapping in the breeze. The economy was in an upswing, and people were happy. The sun shone brightly down on the leader of the country, his pale face in a dead man's grin even as he waved to his constituents.
----
"And that is how this came to be," Purple said, looking down at the child beside him, "How we became the only country to be successfully ruled by a zombie president."
The boy watched him in reverence in awe. This was Purple, the grand Last President, looking a tad more mummified than the pictures, but still there, talking to him.
"And this was five thousand years ago?" the boy said, adjusting his hoverchair.
Purple nodded, even as he leaned back in his preservation chamber, "And it all seemed like it just happened yesterday."
---
Madness borne out of desperation lead me to writing this story. Yes it is strange, and yes I'm aware that its probably a far cry in terms of quality compared to the prior stories I've written. I'm trying to shake of the fact that my imagination falls to bits whenever I write under pressure... well, I hope this makes sense to those who read it.
Lightning strikes were not very common ways to die, but any person ever caught outdoors in a thunderstorm has experienced the creeping fear of it. Peter was no exception. It was a particularly vicious storm, and little Peter was running as fast as his short little legs could take him, headed for the only place he could think of that was safe... home.
His hair was wet and his clothes were wet. He wiped the hair away from his eyes as he ran, his breathing ragged and his side hurting. It was then that he felt odd, like little spiders crawling over his body. That rather disconcerting feeling ended rather quickly though. The CRACK! of lighting breaking the bones of his body, hurling him a good fifteen or so meters away with the smell of burning flesh had a way of getting rid of it.
It was a week later when his parents decided that their child wasn't coming back, having spent the entire week out in a beachside vacation, carefuly making sure that there was a weeks worth of milk and cereal by the table. And so they decided to make a new baby. New babies were fun to make anyway.
Little peter was dead for a week. It was the smell that woke him up, no longer the strangely delicious pork chop like smell after the lightning hit, but rather the stinky smell of his pet mouse, when it decided to go to sleep for a long, long time.
Peter figured that going to sleep for a long, long time was rather un-fun. So he stood up. It felt strange to be all soft, and crispy on one part of his back, but it was okay.
----
Peter was now officially 30, his corpse-like body had matured into a rather handsome zombie, and his near religious applications of formaldehyde solutions helped keep him from falling apart. He was a smart lad, learning that one could earn money from doing work that nobody liked. He never needed to eat anymore, nor did he need to sleep, or even go potty.
Imagine if you will, the world's perfect worker! Peter was like that, an endless fountain of productivity. His work ethic was fantastic, and his ability to maintain output levels 24/7 drove him higher and higher to the company ladder, until he became... a partner.
Being a partner was interesting, Peter concluded, one had things that people called benefits. He had life insurance, which he really didn't need, discounts at restaurants, which he never really dined in, and "special" considerations in little strip clubs which never really quite interested him... due to a certain lack of bodily functions. As such, Peter became rather bored.
It was times like these that Peter spoke to himself.
"Well, that's it." he said, as he sat down on his big swivel chair, "I've managed to reach high above the others in the corporate ladder. I've managed to somehow keep on living when by all means I should be dead." his eyes narrowed. "I have nothing to exist for."
He sat there, brooding, no breath to breakt he silence, as his eyes roamed falling on a newspaper. NEW CANDIDATES FOR PRESIDENCY COMING OUT OF THE WOODWORK, it blared.
Something stirred within the deep recesses of Peter's mind.
"That's it!" he stood holding a finger up in the air in a cliched pose of sudden genius, "I'll become president!"
"This is exactly what this country needs!" he paced back and forth, musing, "A president who will WORK for the country, a leader who has no mundane needs. I will not sleep, nor eat, nor waste my money on booze, fatty foods and movie star whores!" he grinned a dead man's grin.
And in the coming months, the country was taken by storm! Little Peter, the dead boy who worked his way up to the top of the corporate world, was running for president!
And yet, all was not well. Peter's ratings sank, nobody knew how to identify with a dead man.
"What I need is something... anything..." he pondered, his deceased fingers clicking on his mouse, "I need a symbol... something that they will instantly remind them of me."
It was then that he stumbled upon the colors of politcs. From firey reds of hard work and idealism, to the yellows of unity and peace, to the blues of freedom... but nothing struck his fancy.
"These are not the colors for me." Peter said, looking over the colors in his mind. Black for protest and White for mourning... "I need a new color, one that the world remembers but has never used..."
Purple. The color of emperors and mourning priests. It was perfect. Peter had his name changed immediately, and campaign materials flowed from the printing presses in the color he had chosen...
"I am Purple!" he yelled into the mike, to the cheers of thousands upon thousands of fans, "I am a dead man, yes, but a dead man who will make your lives better! I died, but do not let the stop you from living a second, better life! I need no sleep! I need no food! I need no sex! Let me bury your fears! Vote me! Vote me!"
His campaign worked, Purple, had won the hearts and the minds of the common man, his administration was demanding, but fair. He could not be bribed, he had no vices, he did not sleep. He was, by all means, the perfect president.
But it was not to be. Purple sat atop a float in a parade, purple streamers flapping in the breeze. The economy was in an upswing, and people were happy. The sun shone brightly down on the leader of the country, his pale face in a dead man's grin even as he waved to his constituents.
----
"And that is how this came to be," Purple said, looking down at the child beside him, "How we became the only country to be successfully ruled by a zombie president."
The boy watched him in reverence in awe. This was Purple, the grand Last President, looking a tad more mummified than the pictures, but still there, talking to him.
"And this was five thousand years ago?" the boy said, adjusting his hoverchair.
Purple nodded, even as he leaned back in his preservation chamber, "And it all seemed like it just happened yesterday."
---
Madness borne out of desperation lead me to writing this story. Yes it is strange, and yes I'm aware that its probably a far cry in terms of quality compared to the prior stories I've written. I'm trying to shake of the fact that my imagination falls to bits whenever I write under pressure... well, I hope this makes sense to those who read it.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
[Fiction] Lonely Morning Haze part 3
"Mark?"
"Hmm...?" Mark looked up from his Principles of Financial Management book, "What is it Anna?" They sat on the bench, whittling away some time before class, a wrinkly, brown paper bag of donut holes in between them.
Anna looked at him with narrowed eyes behind her glasses, "Do you think I'm fat?"
"Huh?" What the hell!?
"Am... I... Fat?" Anna spaced out the words, as if to try and help him understand.
"Uh..." how the hell do I get into these situations? Mark looked down at his book, "Why do you ask?"
"Are you avoiding my question?"
"No..." Mark said, rather defensively, "You're not fat."
"You don't mean it." She accused, pouting. "You're just saying that to make me feel better! Look!" She stood then, squeezing her belly, "Fat! Jiggle-jiggle!" she tried to make her rather non-existent belly fat jiggle.
Mark let out a long sigh. It's going to be one of those days. He closed the book. "Look, Anna, you are not fat! You look great! Besides, that's not fat you're jiggling, that's intestine! Keep that up and you'll suffer indigestion."
"I don't believe you." She remained resolute as she sat down, "You're just saying that to have this discussion over and done with."
"Hey! Don't put thoughts in my head!" Mark replied, "Listen to yourself! 'Am I fat?' is a loaded question! It's the relationship equivalent of holding a gun to my head and asking me to pull the trigger or you will!"
Anna raised an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"
"Simple." Mark said, putting the book away into his backpack, "Think about it... you ask me if you're fat, right?"
"Okay..."
"Now I've got three possible answers. Yes, no or a cop out."
"And is this a cop out?" Anna gave a feral smile.
"No!" Mark waved her off, "Let me finish... so you've got those three choices, right?"
"Mm-hmm..."
"If I say 'yes', then you'd be depressed and you'd get angry at me. Not that I'm saying that you're fat or anything, mind you. Anyway, if I say 'no' you'd accuse me of lying, the same way that you're doing now."
Anna shrugged, "Well, how can I be sure that you're saying I'm not fat just to make me feel better?"
Mark smiled, "Now there's the rub, see? You have to trust me, like friends do." Aha! Appeal to her sense of friendship and trust! It's your only chance!
Anna thought about that, "But what if you are lying? And that you're using this argument as a clever ruse to throw me off?" She pushed up her glasses.
"Well, there's no guarantee that I'm not doing that." Mark smiled. "Like I said, it's all a matter of trust."
"Mark?"
"Yeah?" he smiled smugly.
"I hate it when you do that."
"Hmm...?" Mark looked up from his Principles of Financial Management book, "What is it Anna?" They sat on the bench, whittling away some time before class, a wrinkly, brown paper bag of donut holes in between them.
Anna looked at him with narrowed eyes behind her glasses, "Do you think I'm fat?"
"Huh?" What the hell!?
"Am... I... Fat?" Anna spaced out the words, as if to try and help him understand.
"Uh..." how the hell do I get into these situations? Mark looked down at his book, "Why do you ask?"
"Are you avoiding my question?"
"No..." Mark said, rather defensively, "You're not fat."
"You don't mean it." She accused, pouting. "You're just saying that to make me feel better! Look!" She stood then, squeezing her belly, "Fat! Jiggle-jiggle!" she tried to make her rather non-existent belly fat jiggle.
Mark let out a long sigh. It's going to be one of those days. He closed the book. "Look, Anna, you are not fat! You look great! Besides, that's not fat you're jiggling, that's intestine! Keep that up and you'll suffer indigestion."
"I don't believe you." She remained resolute as she sat down, "You're just saying that to have this discussion over and done with."
"Hey! Don't put thoughts in my head!" Mark replied, "Listen to yourself! 'Am I fat?' is a loaded question! It's the relationship equivalent of holding a gun to my head and asking me to pull the trigger or you will!"
Anna raised an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"
"Simple." Mark said, putting the book away into his backpack, "Think about it... you ask me if you're fat, right?"
"Okay..."
"Now I've got three possible answers. Yes, no or a cop out."
"And is this a cop out?" Anna gave a feral smile.
"No!" Mark waved her off, "Let me finish... so you've got those three choices, right?"
"Mm-hmm..."
"If I say 'yes', then you'd be depressed and you'd get angry at me. Not that I'm saying that you're fat or anything, mind you. Anyway, if I say 'no' you'd accuse me of lying, the same way that you're doing now."
Anna shrugged, "Well, how can I be sure that you're saying I'm not fat just to make me feel better?"
Mark smiled, "Now there's the rub, see? You have to trust me, like friends do." Aha! Appeal to her sense of friendship and trust! It's your only chance!
Anna thought about that, "But what if you are lying? And that you're using this argument as a clever ruse to throw me off?" She pushed up her glasses.
"Well, there's no guarantee that I'm not doing that." Mark smiled. "Like I said, it's all a matter of trust."
"Mark?"
"Yeah?" he smiled smugly.
"I hate it when you do that."
Monday, June 20, 2005
Pointyman2000 is an Uncultured Brute
Yes, I have finally come out to admit it. Despite the fact that I enjoy roleplaying games, music, anime, talking about random philosophy and writing stories, I have one weakness.
I am unable to process anything that is related to "Art". Perhaps it's due to my inherent dependence on Left-Brained thinking, or the fact that I lived a childhood deprived of basic things like learning how to swim, or learning how to ride a bike.
Anyway, This is what comes to mind when I watch plays. I stand there, trying to comprehend it, always teetering on the brink of enlightenment... and then it ends. The crowd approves with the play, thundering applause and bobbing heads while I wonder, "What am I missing?"
I am unable to process anything that is related to "Art". Perhaps it's due to my inherent dependence on Left-Brained thinking, or the fact that I lived a childhood deprived of basic things like learning how to swim, or learning how to ride a bike.
Anyway, This is what comes to mind when I watch plays. I stand there, trying to comprehend it, always teetering on the brink of enlightenment... and then it ends. The crowd approves with the play, thundering applause and bobbing heads while I wonder, "What am I missing?"
Thursday, June 16, 2005
[short fiction] Lonely Morning Haze pt. 2
"You're gay, aren't you?"
Mark choked on his soda, quickly grabbing a wad of table napkins as he coughed, the pain of carbonated liquids assaulting his nasal passages. "What the hell are you talking about?" he rasped, wiping his nose and mouth.
"Dude, you've got to be." Mark's tormentor, Sean, insisted, "There you were, a hot chick in need of some lovin' and all you did was crack a stupid joke to cheer her up? If it were me, man, I'd be all over her, showing her what real men are like."
Mark glared at his classmate. "She wasn't interested in sex. She was depressed."
"Depressed my ass, she was probably horny," Sean smiled, "Then again, that might not have been your thing." he winked.
Mark fought back the urge to punch the bastard. "Look, Sean, I don't know where the hell you draw your conclusions but stop it."
Sean sneered, "Stop it." he mocked, "Dude, you sound like a wimp. You wanna prove that you're not gay? Then shag her. She's ripe for the picking, Mark. She's young, impressionable, depressed and most likely a virgin."
"I don't need to prove anything." Mark's tone was dead serious. No wonder men keep getting a bad rap for being insensitive. This guy's a prick!
"Yes, you do." Sean said smugly, "Or are you admitting that you're a fag?"
Mark emptied his soda in one swig and crushed the can in his hand as he stood up. "Look, Sean." his voice barely containing his anger, "I don't know about you, but all your talk just makes me think that you're trying to cover up for your own fears." Just walk away, Mark... he forced himself to turn around and leave, There's no point in getting into a fight
Sean watched as Mark stood and left, his laughter taking on a nervous tone at Mark's words. "What? What the hell are you talking about?" he called out as Mark walked away, "Hey!"
Another student in an adjoining table put down the book he was reading. He turned to Sean then with a deadpan face, "Dude, that guy was saying you were gay."
----
It was dark already, and Mark found himself on the park bench again with nothing to keep him company save for the lamp post that illuminated the bench with a circle of light.
"Asshole." he swore, "What the hell was that about? What a prick."
"Who's a prick?" a familiar voice called out from the path.
Mark looked up, "Anna," he relaxed then, "Nah, nobody important."
Anna sat beside him then. "Keeping secrets now?" she smiled, pushing up her glasses, "That's not very like you."
Mark sighed as he looked at her. "It's not important." he said, "I almost got into a fight earlier today."
"A fight?" she raised her eyebrow, "Over what?"
oh crap. "Nothing important," Mark assured her, "really!" he forced himself to smile.
"You're a terrible liar, Mark."
Mark gave her a sheepish look.
"Come on, 'fess up." Anna said, "I promise I won't laugh!"
Mark sighed, "Okay, fine... this'll be a little awkward, okay?"
Anna nodded, "Do you have a Non-Discolsure Agreement I have to sign?"
Mark gave her a withering glare.
"We're friends, Mark. Trust me on this."
Mark nodded, "I was having lunch when Sean, and I... uh, I told him about what happened between you and Kerwin."
Anna nodded, "I can't believe you actually went and told other people about that, but I'll reserve your eventual punishment for another time." she grinned, "Continue..."
Mark raised an eyebrow at that statement, "Okay... so anyway, I told him about it, then he goes off on how I must be gay or something."
Anna laughed, "How did he ever come up with that conclusion?"
"Because I didn't... uh, take advantage of the situation."
Anna's laughing stopped, "Excuse me?"
"Sean was insisting I was gay because I didn't take you home and well... have sex with you." Mark said, "Look, it was a bad idea to tell you, he's a chauvanist pig and an insult to my gender."
"I'll kill him!" Anna fumed, "What an insensitive prick! Tell me you kicked his ass, Mark. Because if you didn't I sure as hell will!"
Not again. Mark sighed, "Look, it's fine. I walked away from the whole thing. He's being an ass, and that's below me." he said, stifling a chuckle as he saw Anna's reaction, her brow furrowed, and her lips forming a rather cute pout.
"So that's it? You let him get away with it?" Anna asked, "You've been reading into too much of that buddhism stuff, Mark. Not even Ghandi would stand for that kind of insult!"
Mark laughed at that last line, "Look, Anna. I know that my sexual orientationis still aligned with my physiology." he grinned, "And as for Sean, he's probably projecting his insecurities or something."
"Since when did you shift courses to Psychology?" Anna asked, skeptical.
"I read a lot." Mark replied. "There's nothing to be gained from that argument. I'm more than a little miffed about what he said, but I consider myself the winner." he smiled, "There's more to dignity than name calling and social pressure."
"Wow... That's awful mature of you."
"It is?"
"Yeah." Anna smiled, "It makes sense, in a good way." she checked her watch, "Well, I'd better get going. It's late, and I've got a test to study for tomorrow." she stood.
"Hey..." Mark stood up as well, "Let me walk you there, at least. I don't feel comfortable having you walking home alone at this hour."
"This isn't a ploy to get into my panties is it?"
"Anna!"
"I'm kidding! I'm kidding!"
----
Obligatory note: Just in case there are those who are affected negatively by the story. The Author does not intent to offend any party with this work, and hopes that this will be taken from an objective point of view.
Mark choked on his soda, quickly grabbing a wad of table napkins as he coughed, the pain of carbonated liquids assaulting his nasal passages. "What the hell are you talking about?" he rasped, wiping his nose and mouth.
"Dude, you've got to be." Mark's tormentor, Sean, insisted, "There you were, a hot chick in need of some lovin' and all you did was crack a stupid joke to cheer her up? If it were me, man, I'd be all over her, showing her what real men are like."
Mark glared at his classmate. "She wasn't interested in sex. She was depressed."
"Depressed my ass, she was probably horny," Sean smiled, "Then again, that might not have been your thing." he winked.
Mark fought back the urge to punch the bastard. "Look, Sean, I don't know where the hell you draw your conclusions but stop it."
Sean sneered, "Stop it." he mocked, "Dude, you sound like a wimp. You wanna prove that you're not gay? Then shag her. She's ripe for the picking, Mark. She's young, impressionable, depressed and most likely a virgin."
"I don't need to prove anything." Mark's tone was dead serious. No wonder men keep getting a bad rap for being insensitive. This guy's a prick!
"Yes, you do." Sean said smugly, "Or are you admitting that you're a fag?"
Mark emptied his soda in one swig and crushed the can in his hand as he stood up. "Look, Sean." his voice barely containing his anger, "I don't know about you, but all your talk just makes me think that you're trying to cover up for your own fears." Just walk away, Mark... he forced himself to turn around and leave, There's no point in getting into a fight
Sean watched as Mark stood and left, his laughter taking on a nervous tone at Mark's words. "What? What the hell are you talking about?" he called out as Mark walked away, "Hey!"
Another student in an adjoining table put down the book he was reading. He turned to Sean then with a deadpan face, "Dude, that guy was saying you were gay."
----
It was dark already, and Mark found himself on the park bench again with nothing to keep him company save for the lamp post that illuminated the bench with a circle of light.
"Asshole." he swore, "What the hell was that about? What a prick."
"Who's a prick?" a familiar voice called out from the path.
Mark looked up, "Anna," he relaxed then, "Nah, nobody important."
Anna sat beside him then. "Keeping secrets now?" she smiled, pushing up her glasses, "That's not very like you."
Mark sighed as he looked at her. "It's not important." he said, "I almost got into a fight earlier today."
"A fight?" she raised her eyebrow, "Over what?"
oh crap. "Nothing important," Mark assured her, "really!" he forced himself to smile.
"You're a terrible liar, Mark."
Mark gave her a sheepish look.
"Come on, 'fess up." Anna said, "I promise I won't laugh!"
Mark sighed, "Okay, fine... this'll be a little awkward, okay?"
Anna nodded, "Do you have a Non-Discolsure Agreement I have to sign?"
Mark gave her a withering glare.
"We're friends, Mark. Trust me on this."
Mark nodded, "I was having lunch when Sean, and I... uh, I told him about what happened between you and Kerwin."
Anna nodded, "I can't believe you actually went and told other people about that, but I'll reserve your eventual punishment for another time." she grinned, "Continue..."
Mark raised an eyebrow at that statement, "Okay... so anyway, I told him about it, then he goes off on how I must be gay or something."
Anna laughed, "How did he ever come up with that conclusion?"
"Because I didn't... uh, take advantage of the situation."
Anna's laughing stopped, "Excuse me?"
"Sean was insisting I was gay because I didn't take you home and well... have sex with you." Mark said, "Look, it was a bad idea to tell you, he's a chauvanist pig and an insult to my gender."
"I'll kill him!" Anna fumed, "What an insensitive prick! Tell me you kicked his ass, Mark. Because if you didn't I sure as hell will!"
Not again. Mark sighed, "Look, it's fine. I walked away from the whole thing. He's being an ass, and that's below me." he said, stifling a chuckle as he saw Anna's reaction, her brow furrowed, and her lips forming a rather cute pout.
"So that's it? You let him get away with it?" Anna asked, "You've been reading into too much of that buddhism stuff, Mark. Not even Ghandi would stand for that kind of insult!"
Mark laughed at that last line, "Look, Anna. I know that my sexual orientationis still aligned with my physiology." he grinned, "And as for Sean, he's probably projecting his insecurities or something."
"Since when did you shift courses to Psychology?" Anna asked, skeptical.
"I read a lot." Mark replied. "There's nothing to be gained from that argument. I'm more than a little miffed about what he said, but I consider myself the winner." he smiled, "There's more to dignity than name calling and social pressure."
"Wow... That's awful mature of you."
"It is?"
"Yeah." Anna smiled, "It makes sense, in a good way." she checked her watch, "Well, I'd better get going. It's late, and I've got a test to study for tomorrow." she stood.
"Hey..." Mark stood up as well, "Let me walk you there, at least. I don't feel comfortable having you walking home alone at this hour."
"This isn't a ploy to get into my panties is it?"
"Anna!"
"I'm kidding! I'm kidding!"
----
Obligatory note: Just in case there are those who are affected negatively by the story. The Author does not intent to offend any party with this work, and hopes that this will be taken from an objective point of view.
Fiction Press
Hey guys!
Just sorta stumbled on to my old Fiction Press Account, so I figured I might as well populate the site with my stories. It's not much right now, but at least I've got a place to archive my written work.
Why don't you guys drop by and open an account there too? I know Kate and Alex would have more than a few short stories that they could grace the ignorant masses with.
For the curious, I've got a link to my Fictionpress Profile here!
Do drop by and give it a whirl!
Just sorta stumbled on to my old Fiction Press Account, so I figured I might as well populate the site with my stories. It's not much right now, but at least I've got a place to archive my written work.
Why don't you guys drop by and open an account there too? I know Kate and Alex would have more than a few short stories that they could grace the ignorant masses with.
For the curious, I've got a link to my Fictionpress Profile here!
Do drop by and give it a whirl!
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
[Fiction] Lonely Morning Haze
It was a lonely park bench, one where the paint was chipping from the wooden parts, and a small layer of rust covered the screw heads. The seats were not really wet, but not quite really dry either, but rather in a state of indecisive moistness that would bother people who would sit on it, but wouldn't stain clothing. Maybe it was because it was morning, and dewdrops still glittered on the grass that grew around the bench in haggard clumps, looking more tired than they ought to be.
And it was on this nondescript, lonely and inoffensive bench that they sat. A boy and a girl, each one holding a paper cup of expensive coffee, wrapped in Earth-Friendly cardboard sleeves and with the oddly shapped sippy covers.
"So..." the girl spoke, pushing up her glasses further up her nose, her breath coming in small puffs of mist in the cold morning wind. She wore thick clothes to ward of the chill, a beret on her head tilted just so as to appear stylish, "why do you think they have these things, Mark?" she pointed at the oddly shapped sippy cover.
Mark looked at her and shrugged, "Who knows?" he said, looking at his own cup "Maybe it's supposed to stop the stuff from fogging up your glasses." Why are we here, Anna?
Anna's eyes never left her sippy cover, staring at the bead of coffee, light brown and kinda gray in a weird sort of way, dangling near the lip. "Good point." she replied then, bringing the cup to her lips, sipping the coffee, bitter, sweet and rough in some parts. "It really sucks to have your glasses fog up when you drink something hot."
"Yeah," Mark smiled, "I remember being annoyed at that when I still wore glasses. You should really consider getting contact lenses." We're all alone here. What is this all about? Why am I so nervous?
"Maybe." Anna said, drumming her fingertips on the cup, turning to look at him, her voice wavering, "Kerwin dumped me last night."
"What?!"
"He said we weren't going anywhere," Anna, "That we didn't have a future..."
Mark felt his throat go dry, "but wasn't it just your anniversary last week?"
Anna nodded, "He said he had thought about it."
"Thought about what?"
"Our future... and lack thereof." Anna said, taking off her glasses in a hurry as she felt the tears come, "Fuck."
"But you guys had plans!" Mark insisted, What was he thinking? "You and Kerwin were supposed to go into that business, right? After we all graduated."
"I know." Anna fumbled for a hankerchief, her glasses dangling from her hand as she sniffled, "I know we did..." she dabbed her eyes then, "I don't understand it either."
What do I say? Mark looked at her then, "Anna... I don't know if anything that I can say will make you feel any better, but at least you know that I'll be here."
Anna looked up at him, her eyes a little red. A tear rolling down her cheek.
"We'll have coffee together on this ratty bench in the mornings..." Mark trailed on, what am I babbling on about!? "At least you've still go that right?"
Anna smiled a little, "Was that supposed to make me feel better? Knowing that I've lost the man I wanted to spend my life with and all I have to show for it is lousy coffee, a rusty bench, and a guy without a single romantic bone in his body to keep me company?"
Ouch "Umm... yeah?"
Anna sighed, her breath still coming in little suddering gasps, as she took a sip of her coffee. "Yeah." she said, still sad, and yet grateful for his company. "I've still got this."
And it was on this nondescript, lonely and inoffensive bench that they sat. A boy and a girl, each one holding a paper cup of expensive coffee, wrapped in Earth-Friendly cardboard sleeves and with the oddly shapped sippy covers.
"So..." the girl spoke, pushing up her glasses further up her nose, her breath coming in small puffs of mist in the cold morning wind. She wore thick clothes to ward of the chill, a beret on her head tilted just so as to appear stylish, "why do you think they have these things, Mark?" she pointed at the oddly shapped sippy cover.
Mark looked at her and shrugged, "Who knows?" he said, looking at his own cup "Maybe it's supposed to stop the stuff from fogging up your glasses." Why are we here, Anna?
Anna's eyes never left her sippy cover, staring at the bead of coffee, light brown and kinda gray in a weird sort of way, dangling near the lip. "Good point." she replied then, bringing the cup to her lips, sipping the coffee, bitter, sweet and rough in some parts. "It really sucks to have your glasses fog up when you drink something hot."
"Yeah," Mark smiled, "I remember being annoyed at that when I still wore glasses. You should really consider getting contact lenses." We're all alone here. What is this all about? Why am I so nervous?
"Maybe." Anna said, drumming her fingertips on the cup, turning to look at him, her voice wavering, "Kerwin dumped me last night."
"What?!"
"He said we weren't going anywhere," Anna, "That we didn't have a future..."
Mark felt his throat go dry, "but wasn't it just your anniversary last week?"
Anna nodded, "He said he had thought about it."
"Thought about what?"
"Our future... and lack thereof." Anna said, taking off her glasses in a hurry as she felt the tears come, "Fuck."
"But you guys had plans!" Mark insisted, What was he thinking? "You and Kerwin were supposed to go into that business, right? After we all graduated."
"I know." Anna fumbled for a hankerchief, her glasses dangling from her hand as she sniffled, "I know we did..." she dabbed her eyes then, "I don't understand it either."
What do I say? Mark looked at her then, "Anna... I don't know if anything that I can say will make you feel any better, but at least you know that I'll be here."
Anna looked up at him, her eyes a little red. A tear rolling down her cheek.
"We'll have coffee together on this ratty bench in the mornings..." Mark trailed on, what am I babbling on about!? "At least you've still go that right?"
Anna smiled a little, "Was that supposed to make me feel better? Knowing that I've lost the man I wanted to spend my life with and all I have to show for it is lousy coffee, a rusty bench, and a guy without a single romantic bone in his body to keep me company?"
Ouch "Umm... yeah?"
Anna sighed, her breath still coming in little suddering gasps, as she took a sip of her coffee. "Yeah." she said, still sad, and yet grateful for his company. "I've still got this."
Monday, June 13, 2005
Quarter of a Century!
Ah yes, one of the milestones of life is that you get to exist for a quarter of a century. As such, I'm pretty lucky.
I guess this is a good time as any to remind those around me that I am grateful to have them in my life. I've got fantastic friends, a devoted and loving Kitty, and plenty of blessings. Right now, I'd like to put up a great big thank you to everyone for being so supportive of my existence.
Normally, this would be the part where most people would wax philosophical and write something about their hopes and dreams of the future, and their anxieties. I'm sure everyone has read their share of such things, and I don't feel the need to repeat it.
Let it suffice to say that I am grateful for friends, for God, and for the opportunities that I've been granted. If things go wrong, they'll go wrong for a reason, and I'm sure that no matter what, I'll find a way around it.
I am the pointyman, after all... ;)
I guess this is a good time as any to remind those around me that I am grateful to have them in my life. I've got fantastic friends, a devoted and loving Kitty, and plenty of blessings. Right now, I'd like to put up a great big thank you to everyone for being so supportive of my existence.
Normally, this would be the part where most people would wax philosophical and write something about their hopes and dreams of the future, and their anxieties. I'm sure everyone has read their share of such things, and I don't feel the need to repeat it.
Let it suffice to say that I am grateful for friends, for God, and for the opportunities that I've been granted. If things go wrong, they'll go wrong for a reason, and I'm sure that no matter what, I'll find a way around it.
I am the pointyman, after all... ;)
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Dance Dance Immolation!
This is Fantastic!
Given the popularity of the game here, we should install one of these in the arcade, in a flame-proof booth where bystanders can watch and enjoy. Make sure that the players have no protective suits for double the fun!
Given the popularity of the game here, we should install one of these in the arcade, in a flame-proof booth where bystanders can watch and enjoy. Make sure that the players have no protective suits for double the fun!
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Writing Challenge: Manga / Wolves / Cosmic
"Remember this: The wolves are your friends, your companions, your family. They will not abandon you, and neither should you abandon them." The Instructor eyed all the new graduates of the academy, boys and girls no older than 13, decked in their dress uniforms, their wolves sitting beside them. "There are worse things out there than the simulations can ever produce, and when you face them, your wolf if your only ally. Remember this, and we can all hope to see you when you attain your citizenship at your sixteenth year of life."
The Instructor saluted the recruits before walking out of the room.
Shiro breathed a sigh of relief. The Instructor had always make him nervous. Sascha, his wolf, looked at him and cocked her head sideways, a question in itself.
"Ne," Shiro chuckled, crouching down to rub Sacha's silver-gray fur, "Don't worry about me, I'm just a little nervous." The bionic headband he wore twitched it's two side mounted "wolf ears" to make up for the human lack of non-verbal communication, properly conveying the internal undertones even as Sascha's psycho conditioning processed the human speech. The wolf, nuzzled Shiro's hand in reassurance, even as the other graduates and their wolves began to file out of the room.
----
The sound of the transdimensional disruptors hurt Shiro's ears, but between physical discomfort and being torn apart like his companion, Shiro preferred the former. He and Sascha advanced, followed by several other of their packmates towards the hill. It was a starless night, and only their night vision lenses allowed them to progress and keep up with their wolf companions.
On top of the hill stood a figure drenched in blood, a knife in his hand, and a bloody mangled corpse beneath him. He cackled even as strange things shifted into this reality. Sascha growled as she pounced on one of the things, biting down into it's flesh with her fangs. Shiro didn't exactly know the explanation to how it was possible, but wolves were the only creatures on earth that could fight and hurt transdimensional creatures. In this case, Shiro was more than thankful that Sascha was with him. Shifting his own transdimensional disruptor in his hands, Shiro advanced even further.
Their packmates has cleared out most of the other monsters and the bloodied figure fell to his knees. Sascha ran beside Shiro then, her muzzle splattered with green ichor. "Good girl, Sascha!" he said looking up to see that the clouds above began to swirl into a massive circle, the sky above red and alien, with several moons and stranger colors that his human mind could not contain...
Shiro stopped, watching in a mixture as he heard something barely out of earshot. A chanting that grew larger even as massive tentacles reached out from the portal above...
"Ia! Ia! Cthulhu Fhtagn!"
"Ia! Ia! Cthulhu Fhtagn!"
----
Okay, so it wasn't my best work. :p But I was hitting my head on so many barriers like how to incorporate anime/manga influences into the story without the visuals. Anyway, enough with the excuses... check out Andrew's Brass Buddha Machine to see what he did with my challenge to him: "The autoiography of the color Purple as it pertains to politics" Dunno if it's up now, but I'll be waiting for his entry.
The Instructor saluted the recruits before walking out of the room.
Shiro breathed a sigh of relief. The Instructor had always make him nervous. Sascha, his wolf, looked at him and cocked her head sideways, a question in itself.
"Ne," Shiro chuckled, crouching down to rub Sacha's silver-gray fur, "Don't worry about me, I'm just a little nervous." The bionic headband he wore twitched it's two side mounted "wolf ears" to make up for the human lack of non-verbal communication, properly conveying the internal undertones even as Sascha's psycho conditioning processed the human speech. The wolf, nuzzled Shiro's hand in reassurance, even as the other graduates and their wolves began to file out of the room.
----
The sound of the transdimensional disruptors hurt Shiro's ears, but between physical discomfort and being torn apart like his companion, Shiro preferred the former. He and Sascha advanced, followed by several other of their packmates towards the hill. It was a starless night, and only their night vision lenses allowed them to progress and keep up with their wolf companions.
On top of the hill stood a figure drenched in blood, a knife in his hand, and a bloody mangled corpse beneath him. He cackled even as strange things shifted into this reality. Sascha growled as she pounced on one of the things, biting down into it's flesh with her fangs. Shiro didn't exactly know the explanation to how it was possible, but wolves were the only creatures on earth that could fight and hurt transdimensional creatures. In this case, Shiro was more than thankful that Sascha was with him. Shifting his own transdimensional disruptor in his hands, Shiro advanced even further.
Their packmates has cleared out most of the other monsters and the bloodied figure fell to his knees. Sascha ran beside Shiro then, her muzzle splattered with green ichor. "Good girl, Sascha!" he said looking up to see that the clouds above began to swirl into a massive circle, the sky above red and alien, with several moons and stranger colors that his human mind could not contain...
Shiro stopped, watching in a mixture as he heard something barely out of earshot. A chanting that grew larger even as massive tentacles reached out from the portal above...
"Ia! Ia! Cthulhu Fhtagn!"
"Ia! Ia! Cthulhu Fhtagn!"
----
Okay, so it wasn't my best work. :p But I was hitting my head on so many barriers like how to incorporate anime/manga influences into the story without the visuals. Anyway, enough with the excuses... check out Andrew's Brass Buddha Machine to see what he did with my challenge to him: "The autoiography of the color Purple as it pertains to politics" Dunno if it's up now, but I'll be waiting for his entry.
Monday, June 06, 2005
It's Fast and it's Free: Aki, A Cute Little Roleplaying Game
It would seem that my free rpg radar has been active lately, and I've dug up a link to a design award winning mini rpg. Aki, is a small (literally, it's only 3 pages including the character sheet!) RPG about normal Japanes high school kids, in the suburbs of a perfectly ordinary Japanese city.
It's certainly not a game for kicking ass and taking names, but it does provide some interesting roleplaying avenues. Actually, thinking about it, it's a great game to use for "Dating Sim"-esque campaigns. Heck, it's a Shoujo Manga inspired RPG after all.
If you're interested, you can check it out Here, to get the links to the 2 versions of it. Or for a direct link to the pdf, click here
It's certainly not a game for kicking ass and taking names, but it does provide some interesting roleplaying avenues. Actually, thinking about it, it's a great game to use for "Dating Sim"-esque campaigns. Heck, it's a Shoujo Manga inspired RPG after all.
If you're interested, you can check it out Here, to get the links to the 2 versions of it. Or for a direct link to the pdf, click here
It's Fast and it's Free: Chalk Outlines Waiting to Happen, a caper-flick roleplaying game
Hey guys,
Been taking a look around the net when I stumbled upon this rules-lite RPG for caper-flicks like The Big Hit, Snatch, Reservior Dogs and Ocean's Eleven. I know some of my gaming group have been itching to play something like this ever since watching Ocean's Twelve.
Interestingly enough, it's got a simple mechanic, and seems to be very intuitive, considering that the character creation is essentially a job interview for crooks.
It's pretty cool, and I'm actually tempted to give it a test drive. check it out
Here
Been taking a look around the net when I stumbled upon this rules-lite RPG for caper-flicks like The Big Hit, Snatch, Reservior Dogs and Ocean's Eleven. I know some of my gaming group have been itching to play something like this ever since watching Ocean's Twelve.
Interestingly enough, it's got a simple mechanic, and seems to be very intuitive, considering that the character creation is essentially a job interview for crooks.
It's pretty cool, and I'm actually tempted to give it a test drive. check it out
Here
Friday, June 03, 2005
Hero?
You Are The Champion
"Don't worry, I got it."
You play as the Hero. You are the one who usually tries to take on the world for any cause you believe in. You are a natural leader in most circles and are not afraid to take that position if a situation calls for it. Others look to you for inspiration and praise you for your acheivements. Even though they love and adore you, however, you are left feeling alone or overwhelmed many times. You're almost always positive and keep your chin up despite any setbacks because you know that you will succeed in the end, no matter how long it takes.
brought to you by Quizilla
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)