"You know, they say weird things only happen to weird people, kinda the same way that karma works.
But I've never considered myself weird, and no one ever told me I was weird, but weird crap happens to me all the time.
Like last week, I was just walking to my car in the parking lot--just a regular day after work--when some weirdo-kinda-bum-kinda-hobo person ran up to me and handed me a really old VCR--you know, like before there was a rewind button, just put in the tape and play.
So anyways this really weird guy hands me this VCR in a really panicky way: 'I need you to hold on to this for me.' he was panting really heavy, like he'd been running for a while or somethin'.
'Don't watch the tape in it,' he says, 'just hide it, and keep it safe.'
I thought it was some sort of joke, but I saw no harm in holding on to it for him. I threw it in the trunk of my car and forgot about it.
Three days later the hobo shows up at my door, only this time he's got his hair slicked back real nice and wearin' a fancy suit and tie. Had a nice pair of sunglasses on too, and one of those fancy ear walkie-talkies that they got in spy movies. I didn't hardly recognize the guy. He asks me how the VCR is and I tell him I don't know cuz its been sitting locked in my trunk for three plus days.
Suddenly this guy starts gettin real mad, like something I've never seen before. Mother F***er strangles me and tells me to unlock the trunk for him. I pop the trunk and he walks over there so fast I'm surprised he didn't trip or somethin.
He dug around the trunk a bit and threw my stuff all over the ground, made a real mess to be honest. Then he finds the VCR and checks to see if the tape's still there.
It's there--of course it is, would it go anywhere if it was locked in my trunk?
He nods to me, hops in a BMW parked across the street and drives away, leaving a mess and a crappy old VCR/tape strewn across my trunk and driveway.
A few days go by and nothing happens. Then I get a phone call yesterday afternoon from the guy--don't even wanna know how he got my number--tellin me to look on the bottom of the VCR. He says there's a piece of black tape there that blends in with the things color. Tells me to peel it off and follow the instructions written on the bottom--the ones in white.
So I look for the VCR and find it after about ten minutes. Takes longer to find the damned piece of tape
than it did the VCR. Mister hobo wasn't lying when he said it blends in. I finally found it and peeled it off.
It was then that I knew what he meant by, 'the ones in white.' There were four different instructions on there all written in different colors like this was intended for more than one person or something.
My instructions were at the bottom of the list.
I was pretty pissed when I read them: 'press play'. Honestly, f***in hobo coulda said that on the phone. Anyway, I plugged the piece of junk into the wall and pressed play.
All of a sudden I hear this faint scratchin noise comin from the VCR. I pushed open the flap to see what it was and instead of a tape I see a f***in bomb. There's a little counter on there says seven seconds, so I book it outta my house counting down the time in my head.
6 - flyin for the hallway
5 - burst into the hallway
4 - see the door
3 - reach for the handle
2 - jiggle the handle
1 - throw open the door
0 - get thrown onto my lawn by a shockwave and everything goes black. Next thing I know I'm sittin' in here with you Mr. Talone, and that' why I don't got your money."
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Life?
Sitting in my room
Looking at the door
Something feels different
Even though I've been here before
The floor is the same
The window is the same
Walls are okay
And ceiling seems normal too
But the door...
It's been shaking quite unnaturally - for the past several minutes.
There's a bit of light squeezing through the crack at the bottom of the door frame too. This would usually be expected - if my lights were off - but this luminescence outshines the singular bulb somewhere above my head.
And it's green.
A green, slimy light making its way further into the sanctity of my bedroom, accompanied by the constant rattling of that stupid shaking door.
I take a second look.
The light is slimy.
A beam of light, a ray of luminescence - is as slimy as the slop in a pig's pen on a rainy day. I can touch it, i can feel it, but I can't pick it up for the life of me. Then again, I've never been able to pick up light before. I've also never FELT light before, but that happened just now.
I'm so absorbed by this non-absorbent substance that the room simply fades away. The dull, assorted colors of my room melt, meld, and darken to a nullifying gray.
The only light is the, 'slime' oozing in front of me.
It's completely through the door now, because the door has disappeared It's just me and this slim, alone and not knowing what to do. What happens next? Who knows. We'll just have to wait and see.
Me and my pretty slime - waiting for something interesting to happen.
Looking at the door
Something feels different
Even though I've been here before
The floor is the same
The window is the same
Walls are okay
And ceiling seems normal too
But the door...
It's been shaking quite unnaturally - for the past several minutes.
There's a bit of light squeezing through the crack at the bottom of the door frame too. This would usually be expected - if my lights were off - but this luminescence outshines the singular bulb somewhere above my head.
And it's green.
A green, slimy light making its way further into the sanctity of my bedroom, accompanied by the constant rattling of that stupid shaking door.
I take a second look.
The light is slimy.
A beam of light, a ray of luminescence - is as slimy as the slop in a pig's pen on a rainy day. I can touch it, i can feel it, but I can't pick it up for the life of me. Then again, I've never been able to pick up light before. I've also never FELT light before, but that happened just now.
I'm so absorbed by this non-absorbent substance that the room simply fades away. The dull, assorted colors of my room melt, meld, and darken to a nullifying gray.
The only light is the, 'slime' oozing in front of me.
It's completely through the door now, because the door has disappeared It's just me and this slim, alone and not knowing what to do. What happens next? Who knows. We'll just have to wait and see.
Me and my pretty slime - waiting for something interesting to happen.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Splash
I've never been friends with someone who's dying before.
It feels weird, and very unsure, like when you're testing the temperature of water in a lake or pond to see what it's like, but you know in the back of your mind that you'll end up jumping no matter what the temperature is. It'll be really cold at first, almost shocking. But you'll get used to it, and keep swimming for a while. Still, there will always be that voice in the back of your head telling you it's still really cold, and the odd time it will win over. You'll get out, and jump right back in again to do it all over again.
I'm still testing the water, not willing to believe the cold and shocking truth: my friend is going to die.
Daren Bello is going to die. He's only 18 years old--but he's going to die.
I don't really understand how it happened; the kid was always really healthy. He's been on the town's swim team for as long as anyone can remember, and he's a damn good diver too. He had this crazy dream to go to the Olympics, which earned him the nickname, 'little Phelps'. We used to joke around about it and tease him about his big dream, even though we all knew that he could at least qualify.
Dammit. I wipe a stray, salty tear from my worried eyes as I try and focus on the road.
"Save the crying for later." I say to myself, "Can't see the road with water in your eyes."
Ten minutes later I'm at the hospital, sitting in the parking lot.
This is all so unreal.
My best friend, my confidant and companion since the day we could communicate, is leaving and never coming back.
I'm walking through the front doors of the hospital now, hands in my pockets and staring straight ahead, not really focused on anything in particular. Normally I would be taken aback by the size and beauty of a building like the several-stories-high-hospital--but not today.
I walk like a dark zombie towards the receptionist and say in a bleak, defeated voice, "Daren Bello please" the lady nods and gives me his room number, handing me a sanitary mask, gloves and shoes while doing so. They're probably the newest--and cleanest--pieces of clothing on me as I slowly make my way to Daren's room.
My heart flutters nervously as I begin to realise that this may be the last time I ever see my dear friend. What am I supposed to say? How do you say goodbye forever?
I'm preparing to jump into the water.
I could tell him I'm sorry, and start blaming things like the government and poverty, probably shouldn't do that with guards around though.
I feel a wetness on my cheek and reach up to realise that I've drenched my sanitary mask with tears. The reality of the situation is really starting to hit me: I'm in the middle of my first jump into the icy cold water, somewhere in mid-air probably. I can see Daren's room from here, and I'm hit by a sudden wave of anger and questions.
Why did we have to be born here? Why do we live in poverty? Why is there third world countries like this one? This small, stupid country of Liberia. If it wasn't for this country, Daren wouldn't have malaria, and he probably wouldn't die from it either.
Splash.
It feels weird, and very unsure, like when you're testing the temperature of water in a lake or pond to see what it's like, but you know in the back of your mind that you'll end up jumping no matter what the temperature is. It'll be really cold at first, almost shocking. But you'll get used to it, and keep swimming for a while. Still, there will always be that voice in the back of your head telling you it's still really cold, and the odd time it will win over. You'll get out, and jump right back in again to do it all over again.
I'm still testing the water, not willing to believe the cold and shocking truth: my friend is going to die.
Daren Bello is going to die. He's only 18 years old--but he's going to die.
I don't really understand how it happened; the kid was always really healthy. He's been on the town's swim team for as long as anyone can remember, and he's a damn good diver too. He had this crazy dream to go to the Olympics, which earned him the nickname, 'little Phelps'. We used to joke around about it and tease him about his big dream, even though we all knew that he could at least qualify.
Dammit. I wipe a stray, salty tear from my worried eyes as I try and focus on the road.
"Save the crying for later." I say to myself, "Can't see the road with water in your eyes."
Ten minutes later I'm at the hospital, sitting in the parking lot.
This is all so unreal.
My best friend, my confidant and companion since the day we could communicate, is leaving and never coming back.
I'm walking through the front doors of the hospital now, hands in my pockets and staring straight ahead, not really focused on anything in particular. Normally I would be taken aback by the size and beauty of a building like the several-stories-high-hospital--but not today.
I walk like a dark zombie towards the receptionist and say in a bleak, defeated voice, "Daren Bello please" the lady nods and gives me his room number, handing me a sanitary mask, gloves and shoes while doing so. They're probably the newest--and cleanest--pieces of clothing on me as I slowly make my way to Daren's room.
My heart flutters nervously as I begin to realise that this may be the last time I ever see my dear friend. What am I supposed to say? How do you say goodbye forever?
I'm preparing to jump into the water.
I could tell him I'm sorry, and start blaming things like the government and poverty, probably shouldn't do that with guards around though.
I feel a wetness on my cheek and reach up to realise that I've drenched my sanitary mask with tears. The reality of the situation is really starting to hit me: I'm in the middle of my first jump into the icy cold water, somewhere in mid-air probably. I can see Daren's room from here, and I'm hit by a sudden wave of anger and questions.
Why did we have to be born here? Why do we live in poverty? Why is there third world countries like this one? This small, stupid country of Liberia. If it wasn't for this country, Daren wouldn't have malaria, and he probably wouldn't die from it either.
Splash.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Beauty and the Disney
Once upon a time I was a perfectly happy feminine member of the royal family of some royal and perfect kingdom somewhere, living in a beautiful castle in a beautiful kingdom. I had this amazing ability to communicate and make harmony with animals--which, I might add, no one ever questioned--and my beastial friends led me to the most handsome and dreamy man in the land.
He was perfect, and ten times better looking than any other man around--literally. Seeing as I am a woman and my only ambition in life is to marry a handsome man/prince/pauper-soon-to-become-prince, I set out to marry him...despite the fact that I had never even made eye contact with him.
We met the next day by me disguising myself as a lowly peasant, and fell in love immediately.
The next DAY we were about to be married, when this really mean and evil person decided that it would be the perfect moment to hatch their evil plan to take over the kingdom. My new love was apparently an amazing swordsman, and after about ten to twenty minutes of swordplay, he triumphed with a great huzzah and boasting of his chest.
The nasty evil person was immediately sent to prison--rather than be executed realistically--but he(for women are rarely evil) will probably escape someday so that we can have a sequel and make more money despite the fact that the sequel will be twice as bad as the original.
But, for now, we'll all(me, my prince, the animals, and my aging weak father) just live happily ever after--right after I get a boob-job so that my prince will appreciate me more.
The End
He was perfect, and ten times better looking than any other man around--literally. Seeing as I am a woman and my only ambition in life is to marry a handsome man/prince/pauper-soon-to-become-prince, I set out to marry him...despite the fact that I had never even made eye contact with him.
We met the next day by me disguising myself as a lowly peasant, and fell in love immediately.
The next DAY we were about to be married, when this really mean and evil person decided that it would be the perfect moment to hatch their evil plan to take over the kingdom. My new love was apparently an amazing swordsman, and after about ten to twenty minutes of swordplay, he triumphed with a great huzzah and boasting of his chest.
The nasty evil person was immediately sent to prison--rather than be executed realistically--but he(for women are rarely evil) will probably escape someday so that we can have a sequel and make more money despite the fact that the sequel will be twice as bad as the original.
But, for now, we'll all(me, my prince, the animals, and my aging weak father) just live happily ever after--right after I get a boob-job so that my prince will appreciate me more.
The End
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