"can you get my squeaky toy for me?"
"OK. where is it?"
"under the couch"
"OK...geez Pancakes...how many toys can you fit under here?"
"i dunno how many are there?"
"Six!"
"well then...six i guess."
And thus began the story of Tall Guy and Zeke Andrew Pancakes.
It started out as a bit of a joke I suppose. I opened a Facebook account and a Twitter account for my dog Zeke. I posted semi-regular interactions between him and I, and much to my surprise everybody played along without even being asked. Everybody treats Zeke as a separate entity and never...
"I asked you to stop!", my youngest shouts to Juliana, my oldest. While they have been fighting, I have been attempting to clean out small hole. It might be the smallest, but it was the only one unoccupied. Being the oldest mama mouse makes feeding hard, especially when you are the farthest from the kitchen, and closest to the broom. Being the slowest, I am the only one that The Human knows about. It's extremely difficult to protect your babies when you cant' even protect yourself, especially when they are so young they can
The first sentence of Fahrenheit 451 flashes into my head as my last cigarette is lit. That book made me fear a world where books, where knowledge, could not be free. To me that was a crime, I didn't really think I'd have to die for it though.
And for a second I think about how all this started, all I remember of it is a single phrase,"I aim to misbehave." Well I certainly have at this point
Looking back I should have known I'd be caught smuggling those textbooks into this shitty country and really I almost wish I...
Miss or Diss
This game is easy. And it all started at lunch yesterday. We were sitting down in the restricted area. My friend brought up a game.
"Let's play, 'Miss or Diss" She called out.
I was very confused. Miss or Diss? What the heck is this game? My friend must have read my mind, "Clara, It's a game where you pick a person from our school or any character you like and you say it to another person in our group if you want to Diss him/her or you want to Miss -which stands for Marriage, I, sure,...
The Moon would never be the same again. Not after the things I saw, the things I knew that were hiding there. I could never again look up at night without a shudder, without averting my eyes from the horror of it.
The Moon's sickly light, reflected sunlight turned mocking and wrong, crept in through my shuttered windows. I had taken to taping them up, afraid to go out at night, afraid of what might be there.
They walked down on moonbeams, those horrible things with too many angles, walked down and fed. I remember the first time I saw...
The earthy smell of autumn leaves surrounded me and stimulated my senses. The crisp crunch of leaves was projected through the isolated valley as I gaped ahead at the distant disturbance. Harsh rustling and twigs snapping told me that this wasn't wind. This was a predator. My heart raced, its beats rapid and echoing through me. I tried to run but my legs were plastered to the ground, heavy as cement. And then I saw it.
Three pigeons landed near a sleeping homeless person, huddled up in the alcove of a building along 4th Street. The biggest pigeon, Paul, strutted by the slumbering figure as Marta, the medium-sized pigeon, walked by pretending not to see.
Paul said, "Marta, how can you just ignore this man? If I recall, you were homeless once, too."
Marta stopped to peck aimlessly at a crumb of bagel on the street.
The third pigeon, Gideon, was looking across the street at the bustling bakery, hoping to spot somebody dropping a morsel of bread or muffin, preferably banana-nut, because it was his...
A dapper man bent down and picked up a penny off the cobblestone walkway. A young girl gasped softly as she ducked into a nearby alley. She watched in suspence as the man turned the penny over and over in his hands. That was all the money that her mother had given her for the day and she had been instructed to take it to the baker's shop that afternoon. If she was short by even one penny by the time she reached her shop, she would not have enough to buy any food. The man paused for a moment...
"Big wheels keep on turnin'..." Paul's hands beat on the steering wheel in time with Lynyrd Skynrd as he drove down the highway toward town. "....A Southern Man don't need him around anyhow!" he sang loudly, dancing in the driver's seat. His dark eyes shone with glee as the music pumped him up. Soon, Paul reached his destination and turned into the parking lot, waiting for the song to end.
Finally, the music stopped and Paul pulled the key from the ignition. Gradually, his heart beat returned to normal and he straightened his red tie and white Polo shirt and...
He could not even translate it. It was what one might call a specific knowledge, the fact that he did not understand this particular currency conversion did not mean he was not smart it just meant that he well did not understand it.
Still he felt anxious.
Hot
Clammy
He walked around the building, reading the strip of paper again and again. It was a a large number it could be something, life changing, probably not. Probably just another day. Someone had something wrong, something lost in translation.
He straightened his collar and opened the door.
Ready to deal.