Welcome

Here you will find a record of all things fiction and the thoughts generated through clear lenses. All posts older than 12/16/2013 are works of thirst-quenching fiction you should explore freely, while everything onwards becomes what has struck the bell in my brain and turned into words. Enjoy!

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Flash Fiction: Belfry, 2090

BELFRY, 2090
by Brent Danley Jones

 BRIDGES & BELFRIES
by Brent Danley Jones

        "It was a roll of the dice from the start, wasn't it?" said Erina, exasperated and sucking in the cold air that stings your lungs when it’s from so high in the sky. Her black body suit kept her core temperature regulated, though at times she liked to feel the brisk chill again.
        "Observant as ever," Leif commented calmly as he coiled rope. His huge hands made it look like thread. “You knew it from the start. Pay that good comes with a catch. But now this is taking way too long, and I’m getting a twinge fearful we’re in over our heads here. The bridges may shift before we get this oxy-tech prototype back down.” He took the length of silk hemp and stored in back in the many folds of his green and brown robes hiding metallic storage bins beneath.
        " ’Fraid’a heights?”
        “Shut your pretty mouth,” Leif snapped back in a low voice.
        “So, that’s a ‘yes’.” Erina figured out by now he wasn’t the kind of merc that relieved stress by having a laugh. What a bore. "I know, suck at gambling, but I'm a sucker for taking chances. Besides, worst that happens is they catch us, ban our gen-sequence, and erase our existence from the Sphere. No biggie," she said wearing a relentless grin.
        She disappeared below the bridge, slashed a bundled wirepack hidden beneath the walkway connecting the next belfry, and rolled back on the stone.
        Ducking in the doorway, Leif praised her in his head but not out loud; such deft, seamless movement was a deadly effective feature for a merc, though she still had a lot of punch in her as well. Leif could tell Erina was much more serious about the job than her exterior would lead on. He felt an itch crawl up the old rash on his back. The plan he had in mind might be more of a gamble than lifting the prototype proved to be.
        After a brief pause, they peered out and watched the glow from another storm sentinel fade. The bluish tint in its crafted eye sockets grew grey and hollow as it slumped, still standing upright.
        "And who even uses electric-based guard sentinels anymore? It’s outdated. And tacky,” Erina teased the dead rock sentry. The duo huddled low and made their way across. She could taste the precipitation in the clouds. Erina clawed open the back of the sentinel, carefully cutting out scrap and pocketing it for resale. Leif checked the dynamic prints. Still another 200 gridblocks to go. Problem was, structures in the Netherlands developed a tendency for changing shape on you. Organic architecture was received like the rapture among the builders, but made breaking and entering even harder than before.
        Leif looked out from the terrace, scanning for the next tower in the spider web maze of belfries and bridges. He focused on each peak, using the GUI in his eyes in attempt to discern which had the televator they needed to descend. “No clear sign, little lady. Gonna have to keep navigating and hope the bridges don’t shift.” He signaled the all clear, and the two crouched, staying low, striding across quietly so as not to be detected from below. He sighed when his eagle eyes picked up the signature of another storm sentinel along the next causeway.
        He sighed, indicating his exhaustion outstripped his worry. "It just makes a mess, it does. Has to be the twelfth one we're gonna knock out. Wires. I guess no matter how secure the location, not everyone can afford the lodestones for power. Even more so when they don't know what they really have."
        "Maybe we're in the wrong business, and we should be harvesting the sparker gadgets of these lugs. Sell 'em back to whoever still makes them." Erina executed what was now a practiced routine of hooking off the bridge with her claws and slashing a wired core beneath.
        Safely through the doorway of the belfry, Leif guessed there would be another six towers before arriving at the center spire, lost in the web of bridges suspended by towering peaks in the sky. Leif kept one eye on the schematics and another looking for any avi-bots making overhead scans and a third inner eye on Erina. She seemed to be enjoying herself, taking micro-pics of the stonework and the masonry as they ascended endless stairs. Nevermind that chance of getting erased being one capture away.
        "Oh, Leify, look'it that one! It looks like a star made out of butts."
        "Quit'cher ass-hattery and keep your head in the game. We have to find which tower will lead us closer to the Outgrounds before Stillion's other mechanical minions hone in on our locale," Leif said in between light wheezes from non-stop movement. "I still I can't see why we've gotten this far without better resistance."
        "You may be underestimating what we can do now that we've... enhanced ourselves a bit."
        "Yeah, but I ain’t takin’ no chances. I’m not like you.”    "Whatever you say, big boy! Ooh, look at that! Stained glass griffons, almost as good as the original even when replicated." It was quiet enough to hear the faint click of the micro-pic cam as Erina stored the images. “I can’t believe the one that made this structure and got all those scholarly prizes was also the same asshole trying to steal the air from the sky.”
        “Doesn’t matter, someone else will pay us more to steal his shit than he would to protect it. I don’t really care what they do with this oxy-whatever tech,” Leif patted his side pocket, even though he knew the prototype wasn’t in there. Erina had a fair share of new tech on her, and in her. He had since discerned lie detection wasn’t one of the new additions.
        "Right, you know, sometimes I still wonder if we’re the good guys or the basen--" BOOM. A thud through the wall knocked the whole of the belfry two inches to the left, and a bloodbank automaton came in from the open air. A wall crawler left unchecked.
        "I knew this couldn't go well forever," Erina lost the playful charm in her voice, sounding as old as Leif looked now.
        "Hm. Deal with it. You don’t have any blood in you now. It can’t do anything but pierce your skin and suck out gel.”
        "Ha, guess you're right," she said, then jumped claws bared into the path of the advancing bot, aiming for legs. "Now, get ready to knock out the integrity board’s connection to the powercell, that should shut him up, and we can strip it after. We really should’ve go into the scrap business!"
        She scratched one leg to open the machine at a weaker point, metal nails shredding the gears of the bloodbank sentry, the sound echoing off the towers with a sharp pitch, but not before a stony limb hit its mark right in her side, leaving dozens of tiny needle cones piercing her armor and digging into her flesh, sending her sprawling against the opposite wall of the belfry.
        "Crap, ahh… guh. This not having blood thing means this won't hurt as bad, huh Leif?" She felt a bit faint, curious, since it could draw out the gel in her skin, though that shouldn’t affect her.
          She turned to check if Leif was ready to move up and get inside the stone brute now that his gearing was exposed. All she saw behind her was the end of a silk rope dangling from an archway, blowing in the breeze.

Sunday, March 1, 2015

The Funniest Jokes



Knee-slappers? More like face-slappers.
Please enjoy the immense pain derived from the tragedy of these amazing jokes.
These were gathered into an anthology of groaning from the darkest corners of the internet. Haha jokes , funny jokes , oh man , someone please throw cold water on me.




What does an angry jalapeno do?
Gets jalapeno face!


What do you call an alligator in a vest?
An investigator!


Why does the little mermaid wear seashells?
Because A shells and B shells were too small!


What did the sea cucumber say to the mollusk?

With fronds like this who needs anemones?


What do you call a fish with no eyes?
A fsh!

What do you call a dictionary of drugs?Addictionary.



How do you know Indians were the first people in America?
Because they have reservations!


Why wouldn't the shrimp share his treasure?
Because he was a little shellfish!


What did the Buddhist say to the hot dog vendor?
Make me one with everything!


What does a vegan zombie eat?
 Graaaaaaainss!


Where did George Washington keep his armies?
In his sleevies!


What was Beethoven's favorite fruit?
BA-NA-NAAAAAA


What is a pony with a cough?
A little hoarse!


A magician was driving down the road...
... then he turned into a driveway!


Why is there no gambling in Africa?
Too many cheetahs!


Why are all the frogs around here dead?
Because they keep croaking!


Why did the cowboy adopt a wiener dog?
He wanted to get a long little doggy!


Have you heard about the corduroy pillow?
It's making headlines!


What do you call a psychic midget who escaped from prison?
A small medium at large!


BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE!

A dog walks into a telegraph office, puts $1 on the counter and says:
"Woof woof woof, woof woof, woof woof woof woof"

The operator says to the dog "Its $1 for 10 words, shall I put another woof on there?"
The dog then says "But that wouldn't make any sense!"

+++

Studies show that six out of seven dwarves aren't happy.
The same study also said 6 of the 7 seven dwarves aren't grumpy either.


+++


TRY THIS

How does it change many dyslexics to take a lightbulb?

...Now try reading that sentence out loud. Getcha? Got me!

+++

1 1 was a racehorse,
1 2 was 1 2.
When 1 1 1 1 race
1 2 1 1 2.




And finally...



Steven Spielberg was discussing his new project - an action docudrama about famous composers starring top movie stars. Sylvester Stallone, Steven Segall, Bruce Willis, and Arnold Schwarzenegger were all present. Spielberg strongly desired the box office 'oomph' of these superstars, so he was prepared to allow them to select whatever composers they wished to  portray, as long as they were famous. 


"Well," started Stallone, "I've always admired Mozart. I would love to play him." 

"Chopin has always been my favorite, and my image would improve if people saw me playing the piano," replied Willis. "I'll play him." 

"I've always been partial to Strauss and his waltzes," said Segall. "I'd like to play him."
Spielberg was very pleased with these choices. "Sounds splendid."
Then, turning to Schwarzenegger, he asked, "Who do you want to be, Arnold?"  Arnold in a slow deliberate voice replied, "I'll be Bach."

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

POEMS WITH LONG TITLES THAT IN ACTUALITY ARE RATHER SHORT AND SAY VERY LITTLE



MUCH TO MY CHAGRIN I HAVE BEEN RENDERED UNABLE TO PROCEED WITH ROUTINE MORNING RITUALS TO BEGIN MY DAY DUE TO UNFORESEEN FACTORS OF A MOST FRUSTRATING NATURE

the oatmeal
sweet singing peaches
alas
still too hot to eat




OF OBSERVING SMALL PLEASURES IN LIFE FOR THOSE WHOM THOSE PLEASURES MOST LIKELY CONSTITUTE A SIGNIFICANT PORTION OF WHAT THEY WOULD TERM AS LIFE ITSELF

the janitor lady cleaned things
while eating an orange popsicle


 
IN RECALLING THE DAYS OF YOUTH IN THE SUMMER OF MY FAIR CONTENT IT BECOMES APPARENT WHAT ONCE BROUGHT ME IMMEASURABLE GLEE IS NOW BUT A TRIFLE OF PITIFUL PUNNERY ALTHOUGH SOMETHING IN ME STILL GUFFAWS

show me your pikachu
or I'll take a peek-at'you



BEREFT OF SATISFACTORY REASON AT TIMES I DO FIND MY EMOTIONS SPIRALING IN A TORRENT AT THE CAUSE OF AN UNKOWN STORM AS THE EBB AND FLOW OF WORRY ENCOMPASS MY PERSON ENTIRELY

sometimes
i don't know why
i just feel sad



WHILST RELIEVING MYSELF OF A LARGE AMOUNT OF PROCESSED LIQUIDS THAT HAD EXPIRED IN USE FROM MY BODY I OBSERVED THE NEIGHBORING STALL TO BE OCCUPIED AND FOUND THE STRENGTH TO RESIST TEMPTATION OF ALLOWING IMMATURITY TO HALT THE PRESENT PROGRESS

whatever you do
don't cross swords



I WALKED BRISKLY THROUGH THE MORNING CALM AND FOUND MY SPIRIT TO ALIGN WITH MY MIND IN A BEAUTIFUL HARMONY BROUGHT ON MERELY BY THE RICHLY NOTED FRAGRANCE AND TEMPERAMENT OF THE AIR

around nine-o'clock in the a.m.
in april, it really smells like oregon



ALTHOUGH ACTIVISM IS NOT WHERE I GENERALLY SET MY SITES FOR DAILY PROCEEDINGS I COULD NOT HELP BUT BE SWEPT UP IN A CLANGOR OF WONDROUS NATURE UPON THE CAPITAL STEPS AS CERTAIN INDIVIDUALS YELLED

if i could be
king for a day
i'd make rainbow the national color
and chase all the crows away



HOW ABOUT MY MOTIVATION MAKES A FORLORN ATTEMPT AT FINDING ME INSTEAD OF ALWAYS FORCING MY SEEKING OF IT THEREBY GIVING THE WILL TO BE MOTIVATED IN THE FIRST PLACE TO SOLVE ALL MY PROBLEMS

yeah, I'll take a number 4, a large orange juice
and a small side of what the hell is wrong with me



WALKING ALONG THE PAVED ROADS WHEN THE HOUR OF THE NIGHT CREEPS ALONG SLOWLY AND THERE ARE NO CARS ONLY FOG AND STRANGE SENSATIONS OF FORGOTTEN FREEDOM SPUR ME TO UNCOMMON ACTS

gonna j-walk the haters away
lie in the street and make an invisible snow angel
with no snow because it's that kind of night



WHEN I WOKE THAT MORN I WAS SURPRISED AT WHOM MY BED PARTNER TURNED OUT TO BE AND UNEXPECTED PHRASES UTTERED BY THE PERSON IN QUESTION CAUSE ME GREAT CONFUSION

no,
it's okay,
the hickey will blend in
with my horrible skin
I'm just tired of dating bisexuals



REFLECTING ON MY TIME SPENT AS A YOUTH IN THE FIELDS OUTSIDE OF THE TOWN I CALL MY HOME LEAVES ME AT ONCE WITH BOTH A SENSE OF NOSTALGIA AND WORRY AS I SEEK TO TERMINALIZE THE IMPACT OF MY LIFE

I spent so much of my childhood chasing dragonflies
and I still like chasing dragonflies



OFTEN I FIND MY MIND WANDERS WHILST REFUSING ATTENTIVE PARTICIPATION IN LECTURE BASED SCIENCE CURRICULUMS AND I SEEK TO PERVERSE THE INFORMATION BEING TOLD TO THE MASSES WITH MY OWN ORIGINAL INTERPRETATIONS ONE MIGHT DEEM CREATIVE

sometimes I think I am
odorless, colorless, and tasteless
and I'll never change
I guess that makes me... noble



ONCE WHEN I WAS BUT A BABE AND KNEW NOT THE WAYS OF THE WORLD AND THE CREATURES THAT POPULATE WITHIN IT I BELIEVED ONE INSECT IN PARTICULAR WENT ABOUT ITS INSIGNIFICANT LIFE SPAN WITH ONLY THE DESIRE TO CAUSE MILD DISCOMFORT

itchy itchy
a mosquito bit me


Thursday, February 19, 2015

Thoughts About Thinking


THOUGHTS about THINKING




I'm starting to worry I'm going to lose my mind.
No, not in the going crazy kind of way.
Actually, far from it, I'm worried I'm going to be too sane.
Now, it could very much be influenced by my surroundings, situation, and being in Japan.
But it seems like no one around me talks about anything.
And I hold out hope that maybe, just maybe, they're thinking of things, but I'm worried.
When I was in a cubicle in America, it was not much different.
Talk is over the new artisan cake shop, something a famous person they never met said, gross general statements about people and casually categorizing words (their 'beliefs'), and whatever hijinks their cat got into last night.
Or they just talk about work.
Or no one talks at all.
And again, maybe in their personal world of thoughts there is something more bumping around. Co-workers are, on a whole, only one step above acquaintance. But even among friends the conversation usually stays around people and events, and rarely strays to ideas or thoughts.
Though most seem closed off anyway, already knowing how they think about something, decided in what they like, making them either extremely present, way back in the past, or far off in an unknown future.
.
.
I have lunch with a group of teachers everyday.
So on one afternoon while they were talking about the latest album release from one of the most over-produced supergroups, I was trying to work out in my head the rates of domestic agriculture production in Japan versus the agriculture industry of exports in China, making best estimates from what I know of either economy, factoring in shipping, then attempting to decide how high import tariffs would need to be to keep markets level in competition.

The next day, they were talking about course prices of a restaurant they wanted to go to, and if 7000yen was worth the amount of food they would get, going back and forth over who drinks how much and whose diet wouldn't make it worth the bill, but how good the food was. I was busy being quiet, trying to determine the extent of the effect that love can motivate actions, with the variables of how much "love" is present and how susceptible a person can be to love. How much love would one who is cold and solitary need to have to willingly leave their job to be with that other person? Inversely, how much would someone with a predisposition towards being in love need to feel to do the same?
The next next day, they were talking about the changes in the schedule for the day, and I was trying to think of every fish I could name.

To be clear, I'm not trying to find some greater answer--'love' is not a quantifiable thing, but if it was, how would you count it? I'm just using my observations and understandings to think of things. Thinking is a hobby. Right now, I'm thinking of how uncommon that hobby seems to become as life settles around you with age, and some of these people aren't even 30.

I usually don't have a lot to contribute, but I'm still listening and understanding the whole time (even in a second language) and make comments where I can. When they run out of things to say, sometimes one of the teachers will ask me what I've been doing, and I tell them about my recent attempts to submit short fiction to sci-fi anthologies, or a escapade into Tokyo to see a rock group no one at the table has ever heard of. Their reaction is always followed with astonishment. I entertain the thought they could be flattering me, but the surprise comes across as pretty genuine, followed by "wakai ne!" (you're still a young dude!).

Other times, I tell them "not much" or "sleeping" because I know they're only asking out of boredom and will switch topics as soon as another thought in the group comes up.
There have been a few times they've even asked what I'm thinking. That gets a really surprised reaction, when I say something like "I'm thinking about whether lakes form differently by their altitude being above or below sea level". (If you speak Japanese, have some vocab! sea level: 'kaimen', above sea level: 'kaibatsu', below sea level: 'kaimenka', and good luck finding a place to use it, laughing out loud)

Am I just more honest and forthcoming with what I'm saying? Could be. I know there is a group dynamic here--that people in a group want to talk about safe, surface subjects that anyone can go along with (though those can often be reverse-alienating if you are not interested in the bland waters of the mainstream) and I know what I think of seems further out there, but the chances to talk with only 1 or 2 other people grow fewer as folks just get too busy, and groups become the main. I'm worried. I'm not saying these people don't think; they are active, adaptive, strong-willed teachers who work with teenagers every day, and if anything are more youthful for it. I worked a number of different jobs when I was back in the States with all kinds of folks, and don't find country of origin to make much difference with personal interactions. I'm aware that Japan is more secluded, sharing less than other societies, but these people are friends who work together, going out drinking with each other, and act and speak like any other groups I've been in.
.
.
I'LL PULL THIS ALL BACK TO SUMMARY: all in all, it's not them I'm worried about--it's me.
I'm worried I'll stop thinking.
I like the part of me that still questions, wonders, asks why and then tries to form answers. It's given me powers of judgment and compassion as a result, an overall wisdom I pride myself on. As years go on, however, the sort of wide-eyed conversation and consideration for life, how to live it, and all things in it continues to decrease in frequency and length. No one wants to talk much, unless it's a heated political issue that calls some preset value they have into question. No one wants to examine things for the sake of seeing what more there is too them, or think of the abstract for the sake of thinking. The trend is more towards whatever is right in front of them making them busy, or whatever will make them feel relaxed to do after. And I'm worried the more I'm continuing with people around in this universal trend, the more I'll keep slipping in with it. Will I be the guy to point out the new artisan cake shop? Will I buy a TV just to see what everyone else is talking about? The age of social media and anything "viral" throws so much in front of us, but is more thinking the result, or just more passive reception to be counted like items on a list later.
"Did you see _____?"
"Yes, I did."
"Okay."
Even if there is a 'what did you think' to follow, it usually doesn't go on for more than a sentence of two, because the other side is not really asking to engage the idea, more often than not it's just to see if you share the same perspective, so then you get that little spark of connection-communication, and you can move on with the day.

I want to continue living an observed life, where everything can be turned into a chance to think, reason, and understand. It's that form of brain-tinkering that brought me into the person I am now, that's pushed me to live a more challenging life, and do things no one else has done, for the experience and to see what comes next. I want to keep thinking, thinking as an active mode of operation, not just an occasional necessity. And I'm wondering how I'm going to do that when a lot of the dialog around me doesn't come out as conducive and lulls me into slogging along in the daily grind, where a day can go by without a thought.

I've recently returned to trying to memorize song lyrics just to give my mental-bits something to do. I've been writing more, revising too, and am trying to internalize the thinking process to make it less dependent on outside factors, though those have always been the ones I've enjoyed, trying to gain another perspective and hear things said in a different way.

I'm assuming only about 3 and a half people have the attention span / care enough to have read this far, but I wonder if there are others out there who feel the same? Wanna be thought-based pen-pals? I don't want to misplace the communication connection of thinking, as another good-brain perspective always opens up as much new territory as a new dimension.

Where I am, job-wise and by way of country, is temporary. Within about a year I'll be looking for a new place to start a new chapter of life, and that will come with all kinds of exciting challenges and frustrating struggles, though there's no way I can know what they'll be. And I think the best thing I can do to prepare for them is to keep thinking, keep my mind sharp, and not let myself go too sane. After all, I don't want to lose my mind.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Green Demon & Purple Demon

[Japan has a moral education fairy tale, called "Red Demon and Blue Demon", wherein blue demon follows the advice of red demon to make friends with village children, which leads to red demon leaving forever so he won't scare the kids. It is a dumb story, and it also is a very poor moral story, as it seems to dissuade students from communicating with their friends. So, I rewrote the story (to a higher level of English, but) with a better ending, supporting the value of friendship, and the two demons become radical rockstars.]


GREEN DEMON & PURPLE DEMON
by Brent Danley Jones


            Once upon a time Green Demon lived in the city of Shimokitazawa. Green Demon wanted to be a famous rockstar drummer. So he put a board in front of his live house. He wrote the words, `I`m a radical drummer! Please come and listen!` But everyone was afraid of him so no one came in, because he was a scary demon and his ticket price was too high. He felt angry and finally took the board away.
             One day, Purple Demon came to Green Demon`s house. He said, `Do you really want to be a famous drummer?` Green Demon said, `Yes, I do!` Purple Demon agreed with him and said, `Okay, you need to start a band. I am a great guitarist. Together, we will be the Toxic Brothers!` Green Demon liked Purple Demon`s idea and said, `That`s a great idea! We may have an awesome time!` Then they went down to the village station to perform a street live.
             Lots of people were at the station. Suddenly, Green Demon and Purple Demon came. They shouted, `We are the Toxic Brothers! We`ll rock your world!` The people were excited and shouted, `Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!` with their hands in the air. Then, Green Demon sang: `When you`re lost, and you don`t know what to do, listen to your demon heart, and let the music guide you!` Green Demon hit the drums like crazy and Purple Demon played like his hands were on fire. Everyone shouted, `Yaaaaaaaay!`
The people cheered, `Thank you for your awesome performance! You are radical dudes. We want to go to your live house.` Green Demon`s live house became very popular and the Toxic Brothers were the most famous band in the local indie scene.
A few years later, Green Demon went to Purple Demon`s apartment to thank him. Green Demon found a letter on the door:

`Hey Green Demon,
I`m glad you are a famous rockstar now. I want to play with you again, but I need to become a more powerful guitarist. I will go far away into the mountains to practice with the Guitar God and find myself. I will always be your friend.
Rock on,
Purple Demon.

Green Demon couldn`t believe it. He made a new band called The Purple Hearts and they also became very famous. Green Demon never forgot the power of music thanks to Purple Demon.

A few years later, Green Demon still did not forget about his long lost friend. He wanted to tell Purple Demon that he didn`t need to be better, because he was already a very powerful guitarist that had all the Toxic Brothers needed to be a radical band. Green Demon decided to follow Purple Demon into the mountains to tell him that the power of music was more important to him than how well someone can play guitar.
When Green Demon got to the top of the mountain, he was amazed by what he saw. Purple Demon was playing guitar… in a big rock battle with the Guitar God! Purple Demon was having a hard time. Green Demon wanted to help. He quickly made a drumset from sticks, stones, and a mountain goat. He played like crazy, supporting Purple Demon. Because they had always been best friends, they matched each other perfectly and played and played and kept playing with awesome power until the Guitar God exploded in a brilliant pyrotechnics display. It was the greatest song in the world, even though no one was there to see it but the two demons.
`We did it! We did it!` Purple Demon said. He was so happy that he jumped up and down. But Green Demon went over and hit him! `Ow! Why would you do that?`
`What a fool you are! You could have been killed by the Guitar God`s groovy high voltage music. I know you wanted to be stronger, but you should have told me, your best friend, about your plans. I could have come to practice here with you. You taught me the power of music, but also you taught me the power of friendship. If there is anything more important than music, it is believing in your friends!`
Purple Demon was crying. He said `You’re right, music is radical, but playing music with your friends is the most awesome.`
`Right on dude!`
Green Demon and Purple Demon went back down the mountain and started a new band, DEMON800, and played a lot of radical music as friends forever and ever.

Monday, February 16, 2015

Anti-Humor Jokes & Post-Modern Internet Rose Poems

JOKES:


Q. What did the Farmer say when he lost his Tractor?
…
A. "Where the hell is my Tractor?"

Q. What smells like blue paint but looks like red paint?
…
A. Red paint

Q. What's brown and sticky?
A. a stick.

The little boy walks into a classroom and says "poop-poop-poop, you're poop-poopy pants!".
Teacher says don't say that.
The little boy says "okay, sorry".

    So a guy walks into a bar,
he drinks there every day,
it's slowly destroying his family.

So this guy walks into a bar, orders some food and eats it, shoots the bartender, then leaves like nothing happened.
So another patron of the bar was like "well what the fuck was that?!" and another patron tells him, oh he's a panda bear, he eats shoots and leaves.

Q. If you're paddling upstream in a canoe and a wheel falls off, how many pancakes fit in a doghouse?
A. None! Ice cream doesn't have bones!





POEMS:

Roses are red...
Violets are blue...
In Soviet Russia,
poem writes you

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
This line doesn't rhyme,
And neither does this one

Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
I can't get a girl,
But I guess you'll do.

I whistled for a cab,
and when it came near,
the license said fresh,
it had dice in the mirror

Pokeballs are red
Great balls are blue
Just like I chose my charmander
Now I choose you!

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Tulips are pink
And sometimes yellow

Mario is red
Sonic is blue
Will you please be
My Player 2

Roses are red
Violets are blue
All of my base
Are belong to you

Roses are grey
Violets are grey
Everything's grey
I'm a dog

roses are red,
violets are purple
shit
nothing rhymes with purple

roses are red
oranges are orange
fuck
missed here again too


Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Tekkids: The Beginning



    It would be a long be a long walk.
The ruddy, muddy path before them curved and turned near through the towering husks of scorched trees, burned but not forgotten, watching them as they passed quiet beneath their ashen skeletons. A breeze picked up, blowing a grey, dead snow down as they trudged along, wary and weary, looking for a place to camp before the coming night.
Somewhere in the distance something like a bird or paca was bleating a message in shrill squawks, and it sounds like "get out, get out, get out." There's not a single welcoming quality to the forest of Fen, leaving was already the plan, to make it to some city and see what was left of the sky again, even one ringed with fire would be better than this dull grey overcast of arboreal shells. After last night, she was exhausted, and plodded forward hardly able to keep a consistent thought in her head. That was fine though. She didn't want to.
They just got out of another altercation, one that left Rosy with bruises all down her arms with a bad burn on her shoulder, and Kehl… he was fighting back another round of nausea. It couldn't keep on going like this, something was going to break that couldn't get fixed.
While the rope had tightened around Rosy's neck, she'd still stayed conscious enough to hear the mention of a city on the other side of the diseased woods. Lodestone. She chanted the name over and over in her mind’s voice, Lodestone, Lodestone, Lodestone. Maybe if they made it there, discovered more information about what was happening in the ongoing conflict, maybe then they could find a cure.
...But then where would they go?

+++

From the onset of the night before, after they left the small post for trading caravans, it didn't take long until their 'guides' turned out to be the opposite of what was promised. It didn't come at a complete surprise--they'd been half-expecting it since they made it past the crowds and out into the rural reaches of Lemmingstown, when their two new compatriots had an argument over which path to take upon entering the Fen. True guides also traveled slower and with more gear, whereas these seemed to be in a hurry to leave the wagon trains behind. Even then, it was better to travel with someone, anyone, instead of venture out all alone, just the two of them. If anything, it would give extra fodder on the road in case of another monstroid attack.
After barely making it away from the glow of the last campfire, the would-be woodsman were already setting the snare, saying they should make camp away from too many prying eyes so no one would come upon their little group in the night. It wouldn't be the first time things got suspicious quick, someone making a promise and meaning the opposite of what they said. Nowadays everyone seemed desperate. Being a child made no exception in that. How quickly "keep you safe" could mean "attack and sell you" made paranoia the standard mindset to those that wanted to stay alive. Unnervingly, not everyone did want to keep going. Occasionally you’d glance a body’s remains stren among the jagged rocks at the bottom of a cliff. First reaction then was, ‘can I get down there to see if any usable gear might be left?’ Shows the sour reality of how times were changing.
Usually, these poachers of people waited longer to earn trust before springing the trap. Rosy and Kehl had known shackles, but history wasn't going to repeat so soon. Nor would it ever have to, if they were prepared to pay the price.
"Where are we headed?" Rosy asked tracker Allar.
"What? Why you wanta know? We getcha their safe, like we said."
"Yes, thank you, only the Fen stretches quite a distance, doesn't it? I heard tell around the trading post of a big city on the other side, the one down from Snake Lake. I just wanted to know if that was the direction we were heading." Even though she had only begun taking on the transition from kid to girl, she was not clueless or thoughtless as her youth may suggest.
"Yeah? You head about the city, huh? But you ain't been through here before, huh?" Allar fiddled with a knife on a flint stone over a small tinder pile, though no sparks were coming off with the scrapes.
"We haven't been to the other side of Fen, no. But we made it all the way here from quite far away, from North Lea. We're just looking for a bigger place to find something to do."
"Yeah, well I got a bit of bad news," he put the flint stone away, giving up on the fire--or finishing what he was originally intent on doing, "see, Lukus and I hear track the Fen and try to catch them metal beasts what bother travelers. So happens that a couple smaller logtowns up norther are paying more for 'em fresh kilt than the city."
"Oh," putting a bit of despondency in her tone, "we were hoping to reach south."
" . . . "
"But we'll be much, much better off going that way after we get across the Fen. Thank you for your help."
"Mhmm. Now go to sleep kids, gotta a lot to do tomorrow. A lot of walking. Actually probably best not to start a fire, don't want none of them beasts comin' on out tonight, right? Don' you worry, Lukus is a strong guy, he'll stay up a while and watch."
Rosy and Kehl took the cue and began to spread out their thin bedrolls. It used to be on nights like this, with only the darker of the moons showing in the sky, children would stay up and talk about things they'd seen and what they'd see from here, excited about what was out there, and someone would always try to scare younger kids by telling them about some huge black shadow monster just outside the brushpile watching and waiting until they slept. Rosy and Kehl knew better. You didn't talk. You did not draw attention. And you listened.
The one called Allar went after Rosy just as she was laying to test the bedroll placement, silently lashing a tethered cord around her neck. She only got out a squeak before the man's hand was around her mouth, his knee in the small of her back forcing her chest to the ground. "Don't worry. I think we might change plans and head to your big city, Lodestone pays better for live things than dead ones."
The other guide, Lukus, nabbed Kehl in one arm, and Kehl ripped that arm off, a clean break from the shoulder socket. Allar said Lukus wa strong, but he could have never known how much stronger Kehl's Arms were. Rosy didn't have that kind of power, but she still had teeth and sunk them into her assailant's hand. He cried out in pain, but that didn't deter him from making a few more coils in the nylon binding rope now woven around her small body. The cords gripped into her skin through her thick orange fur dress and hurt despite the layers. Allar hadn't noticed the partner slaver, riling on the ground, clutching his own arm in his opposite hand, lost to shock. The man on Rosy kept his hold but lost his nerve when he turned to see what Kehl had done, and it was just then now-dead Lukus's head popped like a blister.
Stripping himself of the heavy teal jacket he always wore, Kehl made for Allar, coming for Rosy. She threw her hair away from her Eye and could see an instant aura of fear, and a deeper peer through his first layer of garments revealed just in time as Allar drove his hand to an inside pocket, "Kehl! He's gotta a shock-stick, watch out!"
 Kehl stopped his approach short, instead snatching up a round rock that should have been used for their fire pit, launching it through the collar bone and out the back of Allar before he could point the shock-stick and fire. Ligaments plucked like string, the stick fell and went off on hitting the ground, launching a stream of white-blue lightning just past Rosy's head but catching her shoulder, prompting loose a wail of agony.
Without a word Kehl pounced the man, dug his fingers inbetween his ribs and pulled, splitting him from the left of his sternum in two like cracked nut. Rosy tried to yell, to tell him not to use so much power, that he'd push too far, but Kehl was young, temperamental, and didn't yet understand the full effects of what he had on his arms. He only pulled back after Allar had an "O" like shape to his torso. By then, Rosy had squeezed out of her binding to catch Kehl as he stumbled, looking pale. With Eyes to the trees above, he vomited and Rosy rolled him over. "Pushed himself too far", she muttered. Already she could feel his veins growing turgid and his limbs became stiff. There was nothing she could do but lay him down, gather the gear of the two guides-turned-corpses, and lie awake until dawn when Kehl regained consciousness.
You think she'd have been scared. She wasn't. Just sad. And worried. This wasn't the first, second, or third time this happened. She shed a few tears while Kehl couldn't see, frustrated on having to ponder how many more times this would happen. Rosy could only hope it wasn't hopeless.

+++

The glaring moon glowered high in the sky, mid-day and no shadow time, signaling rest. They found a hovel in the recess of a particularly towering fallen ash tree. Rosy pulled out a canteen on a skein of knotted intestine taken from last night's attackers to give Kehl a drink. She went to take a swig herself first before spitting the liquid right back out, her mouth on fire. Rotgrog, as nasty as it was potent, cheapest booze you could buy but only drank by those who truly could not afford something better. Made all the more sense why her people-trapper's from yesterday turned to crime life. Rosy kicked herself for not checking first and trading the contents for water before setting out, but she wanted to depart the gruesome scene before any passerby stumbled on the barbarized bodies. Some may have known those two cadavers, but she doubt they'd be missed. Possibly they were even beyond recognition. Rosy still shuddered to think of what Kehl could do, though at the same time that power became strangely normal. With her companion still reeling in a weakened state now, Rosy had only been able to carry a small amount of the gear she got off the slavers, and a vial of rotgrog was not going to help them through the Fen.
Rosy tried to sit, let her body be at rest, and collect her thoughts like she'd been told to do from time to time. They were still alive (for what it was worth), they had more gear than when they started yesterday (though at a price), and they made some progress through the Fen (but slower than they would if they hadn't been attacked by their guides), and they were on a pretty well-worn path (however they didn't know where it'd go). Okay, thinking wasn't working.
Instead, she put her attention on Kehl. His breathing was labored by a bit, but his Eyes were open and alert. They hadn't spoken all morning. Both knew what the other was thinking, and the conversation they'd have to have, but the two continued mutually delaying that inevitable exchange. A light mist started to fall, and turned out to be nothing more than the ashes from the tops of surrounding trees blowing in the wind, giving the air a heavy stink of stale sulfur. "We should take it easy today. It's not like anywhere else is better than here. Everything's probably even worse," Rosy spoke finally.  Kehl sniffed in through his nose to recall a wet booger on its way out. "Uh-huh. Probably." Rosy looked over to Kehl, who didn't give his eyes back. It made her realize she still had her Eye out, and she made a quick attempt to look natural as she moved her hair in front of it and cupped the rest of her curls behind her ear. She knew her Eye still frightened him, though it couldn't be more than Kehl's Arms frightened her.
Unbuckling the clasp of her pack, she removed the leather straps but let out a quick peal of pain where the shock-stick blast scorched her skin. That got Kehl's attention, asking "you all right?" Rosy more gingerly removed that strap, wincing as she gently rotated it over the skin beneath. "Yes. I'm fine. It's not as bad as stuff before, and I know it'll heal up really quick like it always does." She tried to think positive, like she had been told to do. She shrugged off the hurt, instead reminding herself that they were up another weapon, Allar's shock-stick now in her coat pocket, which gave them an additional method of defense, one that didn't use Kehl's Arms or Rosy's Eye.
"Don't look, Kehl. That reminded me, I should change the bandage on my shoulder. Those stupids at least had sense to carry some medical junk with'em." Before she even took and arm out of the sleeve of her dress Kehl blushed a shade of pink that clashed with the somber color of his jacket. In a strange way she didn't show, it made her happy to see they were both still very much mortalfolk. Kehl feigned disinterest and went to kick at a charred stump while Rosy carefully picked at where blood and blackened skin stuck to the piece of cloth she strapped on in the morning. It hurt, but she was stronger than that familiar feeling of pain. Wadding up new cloth, she taped it down and slung her arm back through her fur dress. The shade of pale, faded orange that colored her one-piece was just like the hue of light bouncing off the moon. She could just make out the beams coming down through the smoky tops of dead standing trees.
"Okay. You can look now. Oh, and come back over here Kehl, I still have some of that ointment we got and you could use it on your Arms." She pulled on the lid of a rubber tub taken from a hipsack. It was greasy to the touch and no matter how much she wiped at it with her pantleg it never got not-sticky. "No, I'm fine, it doesn't hurt. It's fine," Kehl said, still facing the other way and preferring to busy himself with the stump.
It wasn't until Rosy rolled up one of Kehl's sleeve under protest that she saw why he was acting resistant.
"Kehl… this is bad."
"No! It's fine, I said it's fine!"
"It gone to your elbows. Kehl it's already made it to your elbows, and that was just last night. Ten moon-cycles ago it was just getting past your wrists." Now, from finger to forearm, and organic twisting of nano-metal took the place where flesh should be. It was cold to the touch, but looked alive, practically pulsing as Rosy inspected further to see new thin wires beginning to sprout around the joints, along with a new dull blue light shining through a hard-casing just below Kehl's palm.
"Just put the greasy stuff on and leave it alone. It's not so bad."
"You can't do what you did, you can't use so much energy, too much is going to make this spread faster, you know that!"
"Yeah, and then what, we don't even know what happens when it does. Maybe nothing. Maybe it will just stop. Or maybe it'll make us really, really strong and then no one will ever bother us again. And it doesn't matter. That stupid guy, he was hurting you, he had you in ropes and, I didn't want to get captured again, and sold, and end up somewhere where the hurt… hurt you and… "
Kehl began to trail off in tears, but Rosy had sealed off that protective reaction to his crying; it could be a tool just like the ointment. "Don't even. Don't even start to blubber about that. You know--knew--we were never in danger. You freaked out too fast, Kehl. Even if he had me tied up, he never said how he wanted us 'alive' to do whatever with. If those idiots didn't know about what we could do then, all it would take is being patient and waiting for them to go pee or something, then we could have broken out and used a lot less power. I could have scanned them to see what they had and told you that. You can't just keep exploding like that or we're going to run out of time."
"Just shut up about it," Kehl hit her on the shoulder, the one with the burn, not too hard but enough to make her yell out, "see, that hurts and that's because he hurt you! I'll do what I want, I'm not going back to being in a cage again!"
Rosy's tempered flared, "You freaking little jerk, don't touch me! What was that for?" Rosy pushed him back and he stumbled over the burnt stump and fell backwards, no doubt struggling with the increased weight of his Arms, tears still welling in his eyes. Rosy stopped herself then, not saying anything else. She barely slept last night, but had to control her nerves better with him, she couldn't let him get the best of her over this. All things considered, this was out of a place projected by fear.
"I told you I wouldn't *sniff* let anyone *sniff* hurt you and still I *sniff* couldn't get there in time." He stayed on the ground and took a moment to himself as Rosy tried to regain her composition. She needed to remember, Kehl was only a boy of 10, and a sensitive one at that. Even if she was 12, she still had to be the adult.
"Kehl… look at it this way, if this machine infection spreads too far up your arms, well, you won't be able to save me from anything. You'll go crazy, like the kids back from Newton."
"*sniff* I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hit you. It's just… so hard *sniff* sometimes."
"I know," she grabbed his hand, wincing as the cold metal wrapped around hers stronger than Kehl knew he was gripping. She bared that, and helped him up. "I know it is. Just… you have to be really, really careful, okay. Now roll up your sleeves more, you really should have told me earlier."
Kehl sucked in a trail of snot and did as he was told. “I know… you’re right. It is… annoying (Rosy knew that was a quick substitute for the word ‘hurt’) and it makes it feel like my arm won’t move so good.” The woolen glove came off and he rolled up the opposite sleeve. It had spread to same place near his elbow, though this Arm had streaks of dark grey metal alloys that took over for skin, smooth like stone. Underneath the forearm, small levers and a pulley system worked quietly in place of muscle fibers as he continued to raise his sleeve, up the point where skin and meat and bone took back over. It looked like his elbow bend might turn in to some kind of piston mechanism. Rosy wouldn't admit her thought, but she was curious what the machinery would look like once it rounded the elbow, what kind of bio-nano would take the place of shoulder and neck tissue, how the bone would hold against impact and how the rotating motion of complex ball joints would function. Maybe his arm wouldn't move the same way again, and would get stuck turned straight, like a pole with a hammer for a hand. She wouldn't admit to thinking it, but she knew it would happen before too much longer, at this rate. If they kept running into trouble, and needed to use the power in his Arms, it would go that much faster, a seemingly exponential increase. For now, she forced a smile and blew at the tears on Kehl's cheek as she applied the salve. It made him laugh, "Stop! It's cold when you do that."
Rosy finished applying the ointment and backed off, jamming the rubber lid back on the tub as her smile faded. She thought of how one day, if things didn't get better, Kehl might not feel a cold sensation on his cheek anymore. He might not be able to feel anything, anywhere. No, she couldn't do this, couldn't spiral down. She steeled her nerves, "You can't let anyone see your tears, Kehl. You're not weak. You have to be strong all over, not just in your Arms, okay." She turned to walk off, half-intending the dramatic effect, and made for the path through the ashen trees.
Kehl stood, rolled his sleeves down and thrust his metal fingers clumsily into his beige wool gloves, back to looking every bit the young boy he still was, no different than so many other orphaned children attempting survival in a world gone wrong. He took a deep breath, exhaling with an audible puff of air and picking up his chin, "Yes, Rosy. You're right. I'll be strong. I will." Kehl followed after.