Jimmy the Squid

     This is what happens when I have modelling clay and too much time on my hands.  Somewhere around the mess of storage boxes that I call my closet, I have the rules for Claydonia.  Maybe I'll dig them out sometime...

Blemishes in the Sand

     I don't know what inspired me to write.  Oh sure, I can tell you exactly what inspired each story or blurb I've ever written, but I don't know what sparked me to put what bounces around in my head to paper.  Well, electronic paper in this wonderful day and age, though a keyboard doesn't always replace the joy of having a blank sheet of paper and a pen in my hand.
     I'm not even sure if I want to choose a genre to write in.  Fantasy, while fascinating and one of my favorites to read, just doesn't pique my interest to write.  Horror is too subjective in that different people are scared by different things (and I must admit, you have to have the perfect pace to get the reader on edge...Stephen King had me putting the book down to go find a glass of water during a tense chapter in Gerald's Game).
     It saddens me that the most recent thing I've written was years ago, with "God Loves Planes" being written in 2000, and "The Charming Mr. LeChance" in 2000 or 2001.  Of course, I have a notebook full of blurbs, starts, middles, and ends.  Nothing complete, nor even worth fleshing out into full stories.  Except maybe one little bit that keeps popping into my head that I jotted down in 2006.  Just mentioning it, the scene I pictured in my head when I jotted it down sprang back into my head with perfect clarity...
     Perhaps this blog is just the place it needed to call home?

The Charming Mr. LeChance

     "The feeling of a bullet entering your brain is like none other. There is no way to explain it, especially if the bullet enters the base of your skull. That's my problem. I was dead before I had a chance to truly experience the moment, and there was no way to get that moment back. Not that I wished that moment back, nor any moment that occurred after that. Ever.
      "I don't recall much that lead up to it, and even less that occured afterwards. All I can recall is the morose haze that my life has been since. Or unlife. Afterlife? Is this what it all sums up to? No...that couldn't be. Could it?"
      "Perhaps, my son. Are you telling me that I'm hearing the confession of a dead man?"
      "No, Padre...I don't know what I am. Thirsty, perhaps. Do you know Mickey Vesca? The mafia don? I mean...you know of him, correct? I wouldn't want to imply that you knew him personally, I was just...wondering."
      "I read the papers...yes...the name sounds familiar. Arrested for cocaine, correct?"
      "Yes, Padre. Cocaine smuggling, racketeering, murder, arson...you name it, he's got his dirty fingers rubbed into it. Did you hear what happened with the arrest? Or are you just a headline browser, Padre?"
      "I'm afraid my duties around the church have kept me from avidly following the story."
      "Does that mean you haven't heard about the Church Stalker yet? You know, the guy going around killing clergymen?"
      "No, I'm afraid nothing has been brought to my attention as of yet concerning this. Are you sure?"
      "Quite sure, Padre. They've found four bodies so far...all of them inside confessionals with all their blood all sucked out. Does that make you nervous? Afraid? Think you'll be next?"
      "No, as when my time comes to join the Father in the Kingdom of Heaven I shall walk with unfaltering steps. But that's beside the point. You were talking about Mickey Vesca."
      "Yes...I guess I was. Well, Padre...let me tell you. I was there. You see, I turned him in. I was his lieutenant. What he didn't waste his time with...well, that was my responsibility. Goes to show what a degree in business management will get you. Anyway, I was sick of it all. I went to the Feds...told them how to get him, where he went, what times he was where...you know. All the typical informant crap.
      "So there they go...all dressed up in their urban commando gear. You know how ridiculous they look wearing black and grey camouflage in the middle of the city? Why not wear suits or baggy pants? They'd blend in better. I digress. They raid his mansion, grab him in the middle of the night. Four agents killed, all of the bodyguards, but they have their bust. While they're busy clapping each other on the back, he's making his phone call. He walks an hour later. Guess it's kinda hard to keep a guy locked up when the Attorney General is on the take.
      "Needless to say, Padre, the man is pissed...and the one person untouched by the fiasco is me. Guess it wasn't too hard to figure out who turned him in. Well, Vesca shows up at my place, kicks open the window, and crawls in."
      "The window, my son?"
      "Yep. Bastard somehow managed to get to the penthouse suite through the window without anyone noticing...no ropes, no scaffolds...it was as if the bastard flew. Well, I'm getting ahead of myself. Anyhow, there he is. I, of course, grab the pistol from the nightstand and empty the magazine into his chest. While he's down on the ground I'm reloading, walking to the bastard's body. Believe me, I was surprised when he grabs my ankle and yanks it out from beneath me."
      "I thought you didn't recall much of the incident? Are you making all of this up?"
      "What? Are you kidding? No...I guess it's like psychotherapy...the more you talk about it and think about it the more that comes back to you. So there I am, on the ground, the world spinning. He picks up the gun and rolls me onto my chest. I know it's all over when I hear the bang. The room's going dark and all I can smell is blood. I tried licking my lips and blood is all I can taste. No feeling from my lips or tongue...it's like my nerves are dead. But then I'm thinking to myself 'How the hell am I tasting if my nerves are dead? For that matter, how is any of this possible if I'm dead?' Of course, my brain has shut off. A large caliber bullet in the brain stem tends to do that."
      "My son, are you almost finished? I only have so much time for each of the flock..."
      "Yeah yeah yeah...relax a litte. No one's going to die if they don't get their most recent sin off their chest. Where was I? Oh yes...so, I'm tasting blood. It's sweet and enticing...kind of like that first time you taste the lips of that gorgeous blonde across the aisle in homeroom. I found myself guzzling it. And my brain is screaming now. My eyes shoot open and there's Mickey Vesca, shoving his wrist into my mouth and I'm sucking his blood. The creep turned me into a freaking vampire!"
      "My son, did you say that you were a vampire?"
      "Yes, Padre. That's exactly what I said. A vampire. Of all the crummy no good things one can become with their lives...I had to become some sort of B horror movie killer."
      "But there are no such things as vampires. Every reported case of vampirism has been documented as a case of mental illness or a blood borne disease requiring the intake of excessive amounts of iron. I'm afraid there is not much I can do for you, except to refer you to a colleague of mine who specializes in mental illness."
      "Dammit, Padre! I'm not sick in the head! Do you want to feel my nonexistant pulse?!"
      "My son..."
      "I'm not your freaking son! I'm the black sheep of the flock, Padre! I need you to dunk me in holy water and shove a cross down my throat...or whatever it is that you priests do to the undead. I can't live like this!"
      "Relax, relax. We can work with you here. How do you know that you're a vampire? Have you drank anyone's blood? Have you turned into a bat? Do you sleep in a coffin?"
      "Well...not exactly. I mean, I don't need a coffin...any old dark place will do. Preferably dry. I've been sleeping in my bathtub with the door locked for the past week. And as far as turning into a bat, I couldn't say. I haven't really had the urge to try. It would probably beat the mileage I'm getting from my car."
      "My son, I hardly feel that this is a laughing matter."
      "I told you already. I'm not your son."
      "What would you prefer that I call you?"
      "LeChance. Jack LeChance."
      "Charming Jack LeChance? The hitman?"
      "None other."
      "I see. Well, is there anything else that I can help you with before I issue penance?"
      "Sure thing, Padre. Is it wrong to kill? I mean...to kill someone?"
      "That all depends. Under what pretense are you killing them? Do you mean with regards to your former occupation? Or are you referring to war?"
      "Former occupation? Well...I wouldn't exactly call it former. I mean, I'm still a ruthless cold-blooded killer...but it would seem to me that my pay is life. Correction. Unlife."
      "So are your intentions to kill me?"
      "Perhaps, Padre. Perhaps. I mean...for all you know, I could be the Church Stalker."
      "This is true. Just tell me one thing before you kill me. Do you enjoy being an unclean servant of the Beast?"
      "I haven't much thought about it, to be honest. Superhuman strength and all that jazz is nice, but something about drinking the blood of other people repulses me. Maybe that's why I'm looking to confess. That's how it works, right? I confess, say a few prayers, and then I'm absolved of all wrongs. I mean, how bad can drinking blood be when we get right down to it?"
      "Excuse me?"
      "Well, Padre, I grew up Catholic. Every Sunday it was the same thing. Come to church and praise this and bless that, choke down a piece of bread and drink a little wine. But the key point is that the wine is representing the blood of Christ. That makes all Catholics vampires, in a sense. Or am I just confused?"
      "I see. No, no. Not confused. I suppose you're right, from a certain point of view."
      "Look, Padre. Thanks for your time. I have it all straight in my head now. I'll catch you later...and you can keep the prayers. I need to go knock back a pint or two."

I Like Monkeys

More blatantly stealing shit off the internet.  Actually, I got this in an email waaaaaaaaaaaay back when.  Like, 1996 via BBS mail.

I like monkeys. The pet store was selling them for five cents apiece. I thought this was odd since they were normally a couple thousand dollars. I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I bought 200 of them. I like monkeys.
I took my 200 monkeys home. I have a big car. I let one of them drive. His name was Sigmund. He was retarded. In fact, none of them were really bright. They kept punching themselves in the genitals. I laughed. They punched me in the genitals. I stopped laughing.
I herded them into my room. They didn't adapt very well to their new environment. They would screech and hurl themselves off the couch at high speeds and slam into the wall. Although humorous at first, the spectacle lost it's novelty halfway into it's third hour.
Two hours later I found out why all the monkeys were so inexpensive; they all died. No apparent reason. They all just sort of dropped dead. Kind of like when you buy a goldfish and it dies five hours later. God damn cheap monkeys.
I didn't know what to do. There were 200 dead monkeys lying all over my room; on the bed, in the dresser, hanging from my bookcase. It looked like I had 200 throw rugs. I tried to flush one down the toilet. It didn't work. It got stuck. Then I had 1 dead wet monkey and 199 dead, dry monkeys.
I tried to pretend they were all just stuffed animals. That worked for awhile, that is until they started to decompose. It started to smell real bad.
I had to pee, but there was a dead monkey in my toilet and I didn't want to call a plumber. I was embarrassed.
I tried to slow down the decomposition rate by freezing them. Unfortunately there was only enough room for 2 at a time so I had to change them every 30 seconds. I also had to eat all the food in the freezer so it didn't go bad.
I tried to burn them, but little did I know my bed was flammable. I had to extinguish the fire. Then I had 1 dead wet monkey in my toilet, 2 dead frozen monkeys in my freezer, and 197 dead charred monkeys in a pile on my bed. The odor wasn't improving.
I became agitated at my inability to dispose of the dead monkeys and I really had to use the bathroom. So I went and severely beat one of the monkeys. I felt better. I tried throwing them away but the garbage man said the city was not allowed to dispose of charred primates. I told him I had a wet one. He couldn't take it either. I didn't bother asking about the frozen ones.
I finally arrived at a solution. I gave them out as Christmas gifts. My friends didn't quite know what to say. They pretended to like them, but I could tell they were lying. Ingrates. So I punched them in the genitals.
I like monkeys.

Maintaining Your Insanity

1. At Lunch Time, Sit In Your Parked Car With Sunglasses on and point a Hair Dryer At Passing Cars. See If They Slow Down.
2. Page Yourself Over The Intercom. Don't Disguise Your Voice.
3. Every Time Someone Asks You To Do Something, Ask If They Want Fries with that.
4. Put Your Garbage Can On Your Desk And Label It "In."
5. Put Decaf In The Coffee Maker For 3 Weeks . Once Everyone has Gotten Over Their Caffeine Addictions, Switch to Espresso .
6. In The Memo Field Of All Your Checks, Write " For Smuggling Diamonds"
7. Finish All Your sentences with "In Accordance With The Prophecy."
8. Dont use any punctuation
9. As Often As Possible, Skip Rather Than Walk.
10. Order a Diet Water whenever you go out to eat, with a serious face.
11. Specify That Your Drive-through Order Is "To Go."
12. Sing Along At The Opera.
13. Go To A Poetry Recital And Ask Why The Poems Don't Rhyme?
14. Put Mosquito Netting Around Your Work Area And Play tropical Sounds All Day.
15. Five Days In Advance, Tell Your Friends You Can't Attend Their Party Because You're Not In The Mood.
16. When The Money Comes Out The ATM , Scream "I Won!, I Won!"
17. When Leaving The Zoo, Start Running Towards The Parking lot, Yelling "Run For Your Lives, They're Loose!!"
18. Tell Your Children Over Dinner. "Due To The Economy, We Are Going To Have To Let One Of You Go."

God Loves Planes

     Snapping awake, I sat up in my seat, looking around the darkened interior of the plane. I could sense something was wrong, but I was still too asleep to know what. Except for the crying of a baby near the back of the plane everything was silent. I glanced out the window, noticing clouds below us, lightning slashing through the darkness in the distance.
     Rubbing my eyes, I noticed that all the passengers near me were sitting up, clutching at their armrests with fierce intensity. The plane shuddered and dipped before leveling off again, and at this I began to hear the lady next to me whispering.
     "Our Father, who art in Heaven..."
I slowly turned my head to stare at her, her lips moving, the words escaping like a soft breeeze through the trees. Her knuckles were white, her fingers on one hand wrapped tightly around the armrest and the other hand clutching the crucific around her neck. The plane jostled again and she began rubbing the small cross rapidly, her words rising in volume.
     "Hallowed be thy name..."
     Staring across the aisle, I noticed the couple on the other side of the plane holding hands tightly. She turned to him and whispered something. Despite the silence in the plane, I couldn't hear what she said...but I could read her lips well enough. I settled back in my seat, closing my eyes. I had traveled enough by plane to not let a little turbulence disturb me. Behind my closed eyes the face of the lady across the aisle popped into my mind, reminding me of home.
     I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling, the faint morning light bathing the white paint with a bluish haze. The alarm clock was buzzing painfully loud from its place on the night stand and I reached over and slammed it, perhaps a little too hard. Rolling over, I stared at the empty spot in bed next to me. Listening carefully, I could hear Andrea walking around the kitchen, already up and fixing breakfast. With a heavy sigh, I pulled myself from the warmth of the bed and pulled on my jeans and walked out to the kitchen, rubbing my face roughly with my hand, trying to wipe away the last vestiges of sleep.
     "Good morning, sweety," Andrea purred as I walked into the room, wrapping her arms around me and planting a kiss on my cheek. She smelled of perfume and shampoo, a sweet aroma that lifted my spirits as well as my eyebrows.
     "You're certainly happy this morning, dear. What's the special occasion?" I inquired.
     "I'm just enjoying you being here," she replied brightly. I smiled and poured myself a cup of coffee.
     "Oh?" I queried, nonchalant. "I was thinking of calling in dead and letting someone else deal with work."
     "Hon, you really need to go on this trip. You're the only one who knows the material, and I know that you're tired of dealing with it. Remember who always slept alone during your all night research sessions?"
     "Screw 'em. I need a few days to relax."
     "Bob," she said, her tone lowering. I turned and looked at her, her eyes piercing me. "You're going to go to Atlanta and do this presentation, like it or not."
     "Yes, dear." I was beaten and I knew it. "But you mark my words. This trip is going to kill me. I'm getting too old to be flying all over the country. I'm going to put in a request when I get back to be in charge of regional advertising rather than corporate relations."
     "One weekend in Atlanta will not kill you."
     "True. Fine...you got me. I'll go. But," I said, raising a finger at her, "if my trip sucks I'm going to be very pissed."
     She smiled and laughed at me, breaking the stern look on my face. She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me again before looking up at my face.
     "Just remember, you can't scream at them no matter how much they ask for it."
     I grinned at her and disentangled myself from her arms, heading to the bedroom to get dressed and ready for work.
     When we had gotten to the airport I kissed her before climbing out of the car. I pulled my briefcase out after me, then grabbed my suitcase with my other hand. I slammed the door shut with my hip and looked through the glass, winking at Andrea. She mouthed the words 'I love you' at me...
     "On earth as it is in Heaven!" cried the lady next to me, snapping me out of my memories of home. The plane dropped, and this time people shrieked. Something didn't sound right, and I strained to hear over the din in the fuselage. Just as I was ready to give up, I heard it. The engines. The turbines seemed to be straining against the whipping wind now. Glancing out my window confirmed my thoughts; we had dropped into the storm.
     "May I have your attention? This is the captain. We are experiencing some mechanical difficulties and will be making an emergency landing in Houston for repairs. Arrangements will be made to get all passengers to their proper destinations as soon as the weather permits. Thank you."
     Mechanical difficulties? So that was the turbines whining like that. Must be a clogged fuel line or something. People began talking nervously to each other, never carrying the conversation further than a seat or two away from each other. The lady next to me began praying silently again.
     "Mechanical difficulties my ass," I heard the man behind me say to anyone within earshot. "The damn engine is out." I looked out my window, straining my neck to look towards the wing. It was too dark to see anything, but I stared anyway with morbid curiousity. I would see it the next time the lightning flashed, of that I was sure. No one ever wants to see that though.
     The lightning flashed again, this time near enough to the plane to cause my hair to stand on end. Sure enough, the engine had a thing trail of smoke emitting from the front of it. In the split second that the sky was illuminated I could see it, like a dark smudge across the white wing, getting erased in the night by the wind. Sighing, I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes again, taking a deep breath.
     I pulled a pen from my breast pocket along with a business card. I pulled down the tray and held the card in place, the plane shaking with the storm. My hands shook, too, though from fear or exhilaration I wasn't sure. The flight attendants started walking down the aisle, consoling women and children, smiling gently at the men. I caught the eye of one of the attendants and saw fear there, hiding behind the facade of bravery that they were paid to display. Looking back at the business card, I hastily scribbled 'Love you, Andie...hope you never get this. Was thinking of you till the end.' I recapped my pen and shoved them both into my breast pocket, patting them gently, reassuring myself that it wouldn't be like that.
     "Hail Mary, full of grace..."
     I turned to the lady next to me.
     "SHUT UP!" I snarled. She looked at me and cringed away, rubbing her cross faster. "God isn't going to save us. The plane is going down and we're going to die if it does. No higher being is going to make the earth open up and create a hole for us if we go hurtling down."
     "God will save us in His loving grace," she whispered, her eyes tearing up.
     "Sure, lady. God loves planes. God protects every craft that goes up. He watches over all of them from takeoff to landing. That's why so many planes have crashed, been hijacked, or exploded. God doesn't give a shit."
     "You're wrong...and you'll be sorry when we make it home alive."
     I glared at her a moment longer, then turned and watched the storm outside. The jostling of the plane seemed to lessen as she started in with her prayer again. I thought again of Andrea, waiting for me at home. I would definitely have to tell her about this. She'd think it was funny that I had a premonition about the plane not making it. Of course, she'd wait until after she was done crying, I hoped. The plane lurched downwards, sending startled screams towards the cockpit.
     "This is it," I whispered. "Most planes with engine troubles in bad storms like this don't make it. Hell, I lived a good life. Bring it on, come what may."
     "Once again, this is your captain," the disembodied voice crackled. "We've begun our descent and should be on the ground in five minutes. Please fasten your seatbelts and make sure your trays are in the upright positions and stand by for further instructions from the crew in case of an emergency landing. Thank you, and see you on the ground."
     I snapped the tray in front of me back up and checked my seatbelt. The lady next to me began whispering her prayers and fell silent halfway through it. The entire cabin had fallen into silence once more. I looked out the window, closing my eyes and thought of Andrea. Then I did something I hadn't done since I was nine.
     I crossed myself and silently prayed that God did indeed love planes.

One;
      One axe,
           Glinting in the moonlight.

Two;
      Two lovers,
           Embracing in the dark.

Three;
      Three hearts,
           Filled with passion.

Four;
      Four eyes,
           Locked in a gaze.

Five;
      Five steps,
           Closing the distance.

Six;
      Six swings,
           Swift and merciless.

Seven;
      Seven grunts,
           The task now done.

Eight;
      Eight hours,
           Deliberation is over.

Nine;
      Nine years,
           Sitting on death row.

Ten;
      Ten feet,
           Returning to the earth.

Bed Bugs

It was late at night. My eyes hurt from being open. I wanted sleep. I wanted Mommy. She could make them go away. All of them. But she wasn't here, she was safe in her own bed with Jack. I hated Jack. After Daddy left Jack moved in and Mommy explained that Jack was going to be my new Daddy, but I didn't think there was anything wrong with the REAL Daddy. I guess Mommy thought there was. Jack wouldn't let me crawl into bed with them if I got scared at night.
I was scared now.
I could hear them whispering. Hiding in my closet. Under my bed. In the corners, under the rugs, on the ceiling, behind the curtains! Everywhere, little tiny voices whispering to me. Telling me how good I look to their hungry little stomachs. How tasty I seem. How they want to eat me. Gobble me up, bake me, roast me, fry me, eat me for breakfast, lunch, and dinner ... and dessert.
Jack won't let me leave the light on. He says it wastes eletra-city, but I don't care what city dies because I like my light. He says I can't have my door open either because he needs his sleep so he can get up in the morning.
I'm not getting up in the morning. I'll be dead.
NO! (One of them just moved closer.)
They're big bugs. Little bugs. Some of them are purple, some of them are green, some are blue, and the BIGGEST one is orange with red stripes. He's King Bug. He tells the other ones what to do. Like eat me. That one that moved earlier just got closer.
I don't like Jack, but Mommy said the three of us would be very happy together. Well, Mommy seems happy, Jack seems happy, but THEY don't have to stay awake all night worrying about Bugs. The Bugs only come after little boys and girls. I think Jack brought them.
MOMMY!!!!
(King Bug just reached out with his big feeler thing.)
(It touched my arm.)
Jack won't let me have a doggy. If I had a doggy I could have it stay in here and watch me all night. I'd train it to kill bugs.
I know why the Bugs hate boys and girls. We squish bugs at school. One day Bobby showed me a trick with his glasses. He burned the ants on our sidewalk. That's why Bugs hate us. That's why Bugs eat little children.
King Bug is sitting near my bed. He's staring at me. He's drooling. I'm not going to scream.
Jack wouldn't like being woken up.
*YAWN*
I'm tired. King Bug is singing. Tired.
Think
I'll
sleep...



Good-night.

Star Wars sexually suggestive lines...

Something I've blatantly ripped off from someone somewhere on the internet.  Enjoy!!


"Get in there you big furry oaf, I don't care what you smell!"
"Luke, at that speed do you think you'll be able to pull out in time?"
"Put that thing away before you get us all killed."
"You've got something jammed in here real good."
"Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?"
"You came in that thing? You're braver than I thought."
"Sorry about the mess..."
"Look at the size of that thing!"
"Curse my metal body, I wasn"t fast enough!"
"She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, kid."
"I thought that hairy beast would be the end of me."
"Size matters not. Judge me by my size, do you?"
"There's an awful lot of moisture in here."
"That"s okay, I'd like to keep it on manual control for a while."
"Hurry up, golden-rod..."
"I must've hit it pretty close to the mark to get her all riled up like that, huh kid?"
"It's possible he came in through the south entrance."
"And I thought they smelled bad on the outside!"
"Control, control! You must learn control!"
"Hey, point that thing someplace else."
"I look forward to completing your training. In time you will call me master."
"I never knew I had it in me."
"There is good in him, I've felt it."
"Hey, Luke, thanks for coming after me -- now I owe you one."
"Back door, huh? Good idea!"
"She's gonna blow!"
"I think you"ll fit in nicely."
"Rise, my friend."
"I'm sure he wasn't on that thing when it blew..."
"Wedge! Pull out! You"re not doing any good back there!"

Blank slates and open minds

Here we are.  A new, fresh, blank start to an unknown future.  Imagine standing on a beach of white, unadulterated sand.  No footprints mar the surface, just windscaped dunes.  Behind us is the roar of the turquoise and azure sea, we can feel the warm water nipping at our heels, urging us to step forth onto the sand.  Across the beach we can see the dense uncharted wilds of palms and creeper vines; they dare us to enter the darkness and explore.

It's warm here, the sun beating down on us, baking our skin and causing beads of sweat to roll down from our hairline, across our foreheads, stinging our eyes and dripping from our nose.  Most likely we can find coolness in the shade of that jungle...

Care to venture forth into that jungle with me?  I'm tired of standing here, rooted with fear.  I feel like exploring, and I'd like you to join me.  Oh, don't be afraid of what you might find; most everything there is a product of my mind...

But...

Sometimes I'm influenced by outside sources.  So maybe there is a little bit to be wary of?  Only one way to find out...