I realize that I’m currently in the middle of a superhero story...but I’ve recently been given permission to tell this little story about our sonic friend Boe... I hope you like it.
______________________________________________________
It was a cold, windy day when Boe discovered the dangers of driving in the snow...
He was on his way to pick up a friend (MrTightPants) in order to take him to a concert. There he was, just driving along (going exactly the speedlimit--he’s VERY law abiding) and blaring The Devil Wears Prada when an oil tanker came barrelling around a sharp corner of Rt 293, crashing through the center barricade and directly across two lanes of highway, heading straight for Boe’s van...
Luckily for our hero, he has cat-like reflexes in addition to his other talents.
He cut the wheel sharply away from the oncoming tanker, narrowly avoiding disaster by crashing headlong into a guardrail cleverly disguised by a snowbank.
Luckily he was alive...
...Unluckily the van he was driving was totaled (It had come to rest on a rock, tearing out the oil pan and breaking an axel).
This was not good news for our hero. How would he ever make it to the show he had been planning to attend? How could he show his face (the part not hidden by a heck of a lot of blonde hair anyway) to his friend if he let him down by failing to show up?
It was a conundrum.
Luckily, just then another vehicle also came around the corner...
Equally luckily, the vehicle was a large bus and the driver pulled into the breakdown lane to assist Boe and offer him a ride. As soon as he was on the bus, the driver, a friendly guy named Jethro, offered him a cell phone. After calling MrTightPants and informing him of the disaster, Boe returned the phone and turned back to the other occupants of the bus, intending to thank them for their assistance. He was shocked and elated by the sight that met his eyes...
Incredibly... Boe immediately recognized the passengers... In fact, at first he was so shocked he could barely believe the truth of his own eyes...
It was Evan, Shawn, Nick and Chris. You guessed it... All were members of the very same band Boe and MrTightpants had been headed to ManchVega$ to see!
Although he managed to hang on to his cool with both hands... he was completely blown away...
And then he realized...Something was dreadfully wrong. Though the members of this esteemed band were friendly, they were also a bit distraught. It seems that they had just recently lost their drummer and the new bandmember had not arrived on time for the ManchVega$ show...and let’s face it, what good is a kick-ass band without a drummer?
Of course, Boe was far too modest to explain his talents right away...however, he was not embarrassed to hitch a ride with the bus to the venue, arriving approximately an hour before show time...
The bandmembers were seriously beginning to wonder if they were going to have to call the show off...and then fate stepped in...
Or rather, an enormous redneck with no chin and arms like a tree-trunk stepped in. Well, actually, stepped-up would be the more appropriate phrase...
As the bandmembers and some lowly peons were setting up equipment and also trying to decide what they would do if their new drummer really didn’t appear, this redneck (who’d had entirely too much cheap beer) decided to start heckling Chris (the lead singer).
This behavior did not sit well with my superhero friend. He immediately stepped up himself, pushed the redneck (appropriately named Billy-Bob) into the bar, grabbed an empty beer bottle, and, using the power of his voice, shattered everything but the neck of it into nearly invisible splinters...
Billy-Bob suddenly and not so unexpectedly, became quite eager to apologize to all and sundry for his brutish behavior...
The Chris and Evan in particular were exceedingly impressed. So impressed that when Boe asked if he could practice on their absent member’s drum kit before the start of the show, they were happy to let him "bang away" for a few minutes...
Ahh...but you see... in addition to his many superhero talents, Boe is also quite the drummer himself...
As soon as he let loose...the smiles on the faces of the band grew nearly as bright as the neon signs above the bar...
Though he is far too modest to rub it in to his friends (especially MrTightPants) Boe had the time of his life playing the ManchVega$ show with Vanna...
Seriously, ask him about it some time...
Oh, and by the way... Happy Birthday Boe!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
The Truth
I’m not sure why but a lot of people seem to be completely obsessed with the truth.
Strange, because in my limited experience...very few people want to hear the truth. What most people want to hear is their own opinion parroted back to them by a sympathetic person who doesn’t want to hurt their feelings.
Or perhaps that’s just me.
I have come to believe that there really is no such thing as "the truth." There is only a perception of reality that changes based on your proximity to actual events.
And the fact is...It doesn’t really matter...Don’t you already know what you consider to the be the truth?
Anyway, since I’ve completely given up on anything resembling the truth and I’m also heartily sick of those darn surveys... (admit it...you get bored, you fill them out too...we’ve all done it) I’ve decided that I am going to fill out a survey just one last time, post it on here and be done with it.
No more surveys for me.
Honest.
Anyway, in the spirit of "THE TRUTH" I will now post the following "truthful" information about myself:
Name: Magistra Regina Lepidoptera J. Weston I
Age: 42
DOB: July 14, 1965
Address: 131313 St. Valentine’s BLVD, Cote d’Ivoire, Africa
Marital Status: Married (3 husbands, one who cleans, one who does the accounting and one who acts as my personal guard)
Children: 3 (a ten-year-old female, Anser L.J. Weston and one-year-old twin boys E.A.P. Weston and R.W. Weston)
Phone Number: 1 (603) 382-5633
Number of Close Personal Friends: None, friends are a liability
Number of Lovers: See answer to previous question
Occupation: Saltminer, Pirate, Bellydancer
Favorite Food: Deviled eggs and SPAM
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Green
Height: 5’6"
Weight: 258 lbs.
Distinguishing features: Limp from leg which has been broken twice. Scar on the left shoulder from a freak harpoon-gun accident
Favorite Quote: "Kill the scurvy swabs and throw them over the side to the sharks!"
Favorite television show: Martha Stewart Living
Favorite celebrity: Callista Flockhart
Favorite book: The DaVinci Code
Favorite song: "Stacy’s Mom Has Got it Goin’ On"
Favorite car: 1987 Volkswagen Rabbit
Favorite animal: Black Tarantula
Fears: Never conquering the known universe and bathing
Last text message received: "Count your remaining breaths Queenie...Tonight you will die!" -Shiruken the Great
Have you ever: (check the box if you’ve done any of the following)
[] Kissed in the rain
[] Danced
[] Sung a little song
[x] Killed a hitchhiker just because you could
[x] Raided a small carribean country while on shore leave with your underlings
[x] Gotten an enemy drunk and had a skull and crossbones tattooed on their butt with your name under it
[x] Laughed maniacally until you coughed something out of your nose
[] Been anyone’s favorite
[x] Made someone cry
[] Made someone happy
Do you like: (check all of the boxes that apply to you)
[] Puppies
[] Kittens
[]Rainbows
[]Love
[x]Torturing your enemies (and sometimes your friends) until they beg you for mercy
[x]Wearing boots with spike heels
[]Mercy
[]Kindness
[x]The smell of carnage in the morning
Well, there you have it. Everything you truly need to know about me in survey form.
High fives for never filling out another survey again!!
Now don’t you feel "enlightened" by the truth?
Saturday, March 29, 2008
"What Happens to a Dream Deferred?"
Without our dreams, we are absolutely nothing.
OH, and of course...thank you Langston Hughes...you were, are and will always be...THA MAN.
"A Dream Deferred"
I was thinking about this on a long-ass drive I recently took during yet another snowstorm...and I came to the conclusion that I have had many dreams in my life and while many of them failed to come true, some actually did.
Here’s what I dream now...
I have a dream that it might be possible, (with perservereance and more than a little luck), to make someone else’s dreams come true, someone I think of as being pretty fantastic...and in a way, I have to say that’s almost better than a selfish dream... (Ironically enough, this same person recently commented, and probably rightly so..."You are the most obnoxious person I know, you are the only person who can actually annoy ME!")
Yes, I realize that I’m the Pirate Queen and therefore have no emotions or social skills. It is also true that I have no friends or loved ones and will most likely die alone...another crazy cat lady with a bottle of Jim Beam in one hand and a shotgun in the other. In fact, I have been told, "Aikens, it would take an ice pick to the heart to make you cry."
All true.
But still... even an evil Mimi/Rosie O’Donnell lookalike like me does have people she actually cares about. Hard to believe...but still true.
And to everyone/anyone reading this... I hope your dreams come true as well.
(Unless of course your dream is to dethrone me once I rule the world with my iron fist in an iron glove...heh heh). In which case, I will preside over your slow and painful death with a song in my heart and a smile on my hideously ugly face...
OH, and of course...thank you Langston Hughes...you were, are and will always be...THA MAN.
"A Dream Deferred"
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
-Langston Hughes (Harlem Renaissance Poet)Friday, March 28, 2008
Dying Embers, Or, A Fitting Conclusion to This Day of All Days
Snowflakes fell, small forgotten tumblers to the doom that awaits us all...
The road was dark and cold, ice dripped from rooftops and I sat waiting too. The end when it came took the form of a word, shot from a keyboard. I danced back, caught by surprise that you didn’t know I could be wounded. You were stunned by that power-- yours all along... I said,
"I surrender."
I sheilded myself as best I could but my heart was a bull’s eye--red. The darkness, when it came, was welcome release from caring; ignore me. I gave up on the future. Thought only of the past; how fleeting was the life lived. Only in dreams was I the woman I wished I was. Through my dreams, I lived.
Now I seek a reason to keep trying, though I fear I won’t find one...
"I surrender to the end which must inevitibly come... soon."
The End
Note: This entire blog entry was written in haiku.
Count the syllables if you don’t believe me.
P.S. I’m not quite as emo as I sound... Though I definitely have a tendency to care too much and take things entirely too personally.
(It’s a personal failure that I’m working on--give me some time, okay)?
I’m socially retarded, so I can be pretty obnoxious.
It’s part of my charm.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
You Could Call Me a Criminal but I Prefer to Be Called a Businesswoman…
On the way home tonight I took a wrong turn and became a criminal.
Everything was fine until the guy in the BMW decided to follow me.
Okay, so here’s what happened…
There I was, just cruising down I-93, minding my own business, listening to Rise or Die Trying on MAX VOL (aka "63" according to the radio in the G.B.), singing at the top of my lungs with the windows and the sun roof wide open, with my foot on the accelerator. The wind was blowing, I had my sunglasses on and I’d changed from a sparkly blue sweater (Saltmine garb) into a blue tank top (definitely NOT Saltmine garb—too revealing).
I was feeling pretty good.
My meeting had been cancelled.
I was free.
The next thing I know, there’s a guy in a black BMW tail-gating me. ME.
Naturally, in the beginning I dealt with this behavior in the very same way that has completely failed to work for me in the past…That is to say, I ignored it, figuring that if I did so long enough, he’d get bored with bothering me and go away.
I am Queen of the Passive Aggressive-s.
However, as has been the case in the past, this strategy totally failed to yield positive results. Even though I was going a solid 75 (translation: *cough*80*cough*) he refused to either pass me or drop back so that I couldn’t actually see the pores of his skin in my rear view mirror… Seriously, he was so close to me I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. It was totally ridiculous.
So anyway, I thought, ’well, maybe if I slow down a little, he’ll pass me so I can go back to enjoying my drive—I can just speed up again after he passes…’ So thinking, I took my foot off the accelerator…
He got closer.
He refused to pass me.
Instead, he began flashing his lights at me.
At this point, I started to become quite irate. This rich jerk off was completely spoiling my afternoon drive… A time that I usually use to either decompress after a rough day or on a good day (such as today was) to relive the funny things that the Inmates did and said.
And now…it was being ruined.
I stared hard for a moment into the rear view and examined my tail in greater detail…
The BMW was black, sleek and so shiny in the afternoon sunlight that I could barely look at it for 15 seconds without being blinded by the glare. Behind the wheel sat a guy in black shades. From the distance it was a bit hard to judge facial features or anything like that, all I could see were driving gloves on the hands gripping the wheel and a head of black hair. His face was completely unmoving.
Glancing at my speedometer I saw that I had unconsciously re-applied my foot to the accelerator and was once again up to 3000rpm… Still, this damn guy would not leave me alone…
So that was when I made my move.
I saw my exit coming up; I had passed through Concord and was about to get on I-89 North…I feigned as though I was going to pass the exit and at the last minute cut my wheel a little to the right, sailing onto the exit ramp very nearly on two wheels and nudging the breaks hard.
No dice.
I had to admit, the guy was good. Not only had he avoided hitting me or spinning out, he was still right there on my butt.
That was when I started to freak out just a little…
Was the face familiar at all? Who was this guy? Why was he so intent on following me?
Had I robbed from his family on one of my pirate excursions?
And then I remembered… I HAD seen that stoic face before…
A few years ago, I’d accidentally stumbled onto a drug deal when I was sneaking into Bow Auto Salvage to "liberate" a transmission for an ’89 Plymouth Voyager van for a friend and screwed things up royally for the head honcho… Though at one point during the proceedings I actually ended up stuffed into a toolbox in the back of a Chevy Silverado, I’d made my escape and taken a blowtorch to a mint condition 78’ Mustang as payback…
UH-OH.
The guy who owned the salvage place had looked a lot like this guy… Uh, he must’ve been pretty attached to that car… oops.
How had he managed to find me after three years? And what was he planning to do, other than follow me?
Well, the long and short of it is…I now own a BMW.
Yup. You guessed it…
I got tired of the game rather quickly, pulled over near the Hopkinton exit and got out of my car. I nonchalantly leaned against the door of the G.B. and waited as he got out of his. He didn’t say anything as he walked toward me…
I also said nothing.
.. -->[endif]-->
He stopped.
Clearly, he’s learned nothing in three years.
He made the rookie mistake of coming within striking distance of my 4" spiky pirate boots. Using the car as leverage, I launched my foot at his sternum, throwing him over backward, leaving him flopping on the ground like a fish.
I stood over him for a second, shaking my head and then planted my right foot on his chest, pressing just a little too hard. I informed him that from this angle, my boot heel would break his sternum and crack several ribs… The added pressure of my foot and broken bones would most likely puncture one or both of his lungs.
I let him ponder that for a few seconds before I asked him, "Hey, can I have your keys?...And the title to your car?"
What a wimp.
He gave it up without ever speaking a word.
I have no respect for a guy who can’t come up with even ONE semi-witty come back… I value sarcasm (aka Verbal Irony) in the opposite sex.
He was a COMPLETE disappointment in that regard.
Still…
Very nice car.
I’m just sayin’.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Do YOU Have a Secret Life?
Recently a friend of mine mentioned that people thought he had a "secret life."
Personally, I was pretty impressed. Generally I don’t realize that people have secret lives... I mean, I guess that’s pretty naive, considering my own escapades. Still, I generally assume that people tell me the truth and that what I see is what I get.
But now I wonder...
And I’ve found myself making up secret lives for some of the people I work with...
Naturally I can’t reveal names... but here are some of my musings...
DrCrazy: I know he’s a closeted musician, but now I’m thinking that he does more than just play a few tunes with friends in Laconia on the weekends. In fact, I think I saw him come in late one day... Someone dropped him off in a van... And there were some girls in the back who looked like groupies...
BillNye: Let’s face it... No one with the intestinal fortitude to show up day after day in a sweater vest could possibly survive life without a secret life. You see, what no one knows about BillNye is that he is really a cat burgler. I once saw him scale a 3 story building when I was living in Penacook. Three years later, I realize that it was indeed him... It was the Adam’s apple that gave him away, you can see that thing from space without a telescope...
WomanofMystery: Everyone knows her...yet... NO ONE knows her. Though she’s worked at the Saltmine for years, she plays her cards close to the vest. Literally. You see, she’s not just an Economic genius... She’s also a card-shark. Every time you hear about a high stakes, illegal poker game operating out of a back room in a local town... It’s her. How do YOU think she can afford all that expensive DD coffee?
I’m just sayin’.
I bet there are others out there... You know who you are.
And now, I’ll be watching you. Just ask me... with one look I can decipher your secret life.
Don’t believe it?
Just test me.
I dare ya.
Personally, I was pretty impressed. Generally I don’t realize that people have secret lives... I mean, I guess that’s pretty naive, considering my own escapades. Still, I generally assume that people tell me the truth and that what I see is what I get.
But now I wonder...
And I’ve found myself making up secret lives for some of the people I work with...
Naturally I can’t reveal names... but here are some of my musings...
DrCrazy: I know he’s a closeted musician, but now I’m thinking that he does more than just play a few tunes with friends in Laconia on the weekends. In fact, I think I saw him come in late one day... Someone dropped him off in a van... And there were some girls in the back who looked like groupies...
BillNye: Let’s face it... No one with the intestinal fortitude to show up day after day in a sweater vest could possibly survive life without a secret life. You see, what no one knows about BillNye is that he is really a cat burgler. I once saw him scale a 3 story building when I was living in Penacook. Three years later, I realize that it was indeed him... It was the Adam’s apple that gave him away, you can see that thing from space without a telescope...
WomanofMystery: Everyone knows her...yet... NO ONE knows her. Though she’s worked at the Saltmine for years, she plays her cards close to the vest. Literally. You see, she’s not just an Economic genius... She’s also a card-shark. Every time you hear about a high stakes, illegal poker game operating out of a back room in a local town... It’s her. How do YOU think she can afford all that expensive DD coffee?
I’m just sayin’.
I bet there are others out there... You know who you are.
And now, I’ll be watching you. Just ask me... with one look I can decipher your secret life.
Don’t believe it?
Just test me.
I dare ya.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Pfft... A Flaming Church Can't Scare a Superhero
...The smell of a cooking church drifted to all of our noses at approximately the same time.
For just an instant I actually found myself wondering if there were any marshmallows in my backpack and then I snapped back to reality (ADD strikes again, what can I say)?
My first instinct was to rush around to the front of the church and try somehow to get to our friends. Luckily, I was thwarted by both the Aviator and Lizzard, who both saw what I was about to do and grabbed me by the arms. I say luckily because at very nearly the same moment, a sizeable group of Guildmembers and ninjas came racing around the corner of a large tent, headed in exactly the same direction.
At this point reason re-asserted itself and I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment. The fire, still invisible must’ve been growing in intensity. Though I couldn’t see or hear flames, the smell of smoke was getting stronger and dark clouds were billowing into the sky. Lizzard, who’d managed to keep her cool slightly better than I, was already in contact with Seymour, who was informing her (and all of us) that the Chameleon was sending ice sheeting down the front of the church, coating and dampening the wood... Our four comrades were relatively safe for the moment, though no one was really sure just how strong the structure of the church was...
At this point The Aviator suggested that we pull back into the woods a ways to consider our options.
We agreed and moved back through the trees to ponder our next move...
For just an instant I actually found myself wondering if there were any marshmallows in my backpack and then I snapped back to reality (ADD strikes again, what can I say)?
My first instinct was to rush around to the front of the church and try somehow to get to our friends. Luckily, I was thwarted by both the Aviator and Lizzard, who both saw what I was about to do and grabbed me by the arms. I say luckily because at very nearly the same moment, a sizeable group of Guildmembers and ninjas came racing around the corner of a large tent, headed in exactly the same direction.
At this point reason re-asserted itself and I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment. The fire, still invisible must’ve been growing in intensity. Though I couldn’t see or hear flames, the smell of smoke was getting stronger and dark clouds were billowing into the sky. Lizzard, who’d managed to keep her cool slightly better than I, was already in contact with Seymour, who was informing her (and all of us) that the Chameleon was sending ice sheeting down the front of the church, coating and dampening the wood... Our four comrades were relatively safe for the moment, though no one was really sure just how strong the structure of the church was...
At this point The Aviator suggested that we pull back into the woods a ways to consider our options.
We agreed and moved back through the trees to ponder our next move...
Sunday, March 23, 2008
The Superheroes and the Semi-Abandoned Church
Well, after a nice drive and some music cranked to max volume I’ve finally worked up the gumption to share more of the latest Superhero tale.
So here goes.
After our "nap" all of us were primed to go play with the evil ninjas. After psyching ourselves up, we got together as a team and tried to reach Seymour... At first I didn’t think it was going to work but thanks to our rest (and possibly the Kraken’s Eyes) we were able to get through.
It was a good thing too.
As the familiar sounds of Seymour’s brain clarified in my mind I realized that he, The Chameleon, Boe and Fuzzy-B were in the middle of a pitched battle in a deserted church somewhere in Canterbury. We all heard the sounds of shouting and then Seymour yelled, "Get your a__es over here! We’re surrounded---We need reinforcements!"
Immediately I broke communication, as did the others. Leading the way, The Aviator crashed through the doors of 117 and across the hall to the Siren. As the rest of us followed, I told Vito and his men where we were going and requested back-up. After a few tersely delivered commands, Vito’s men were sauntering casually toward the exit to their waiting humvees. (One thing I’ve learned about mobsters is that they never seem in much of a hurry to get anywhere, yet they always seem to arrive exactly when they need to).
I wondered about the tank...I had really wanted to give it a whirl...
I shot out the loading dock door and scrambled into the waiting glider.
Interesting side note... One thing they never tell you about Superhero battles is, no one ever feels really prepared. That sick feeling you got in the pit of your stomach when you were called to the principal’s office as a small child is the same feeling you get before a battle.
At first I thought it was a sign of cowardice. Not so. Basically, we’re all still animals and the prospect of a battle provokes the classic "fight or flight" response in all of us, be we pirate queens or lowly scullery wenches.
What I’m leading up to is, the flight to Canterbury was slightly tense. Though we made attempts to sound nonchalant, none of us really had our hearts in it. I knew for certain that the battle would be a real test of our abilities... We were surely outnumbered and facing villains with powers of their own with which we would be unfamiliar.
On the other hand, we were looking forward to pummeling those ninjas into paste.
Luckily, thanks to the speed of the Siren, none of us had a long time to worry about the battle before we had reached the vicinity of the battle.
About this time I once again contacted Seymour, who gave us all a situation report...Apparently, this is what we’d missed...
...After the other van took off with Boe, The Chameleon, Fuzzy-B and Seymour in the back, they’d headed straight to an abandoned church in the wilds of Canterbury. The church had been in use around 1775 when there had still been Shakers living near but it had been replaced in favor of a newer structure sometime within the first years after the Revolutionary War. Frankly, I was amazed it was still standing. Out in the woods, it didn’t even have access to a road, it seems the Guild and Shiruken’s men had basically created their own path through the woods. Sometime during the ride they’d awakenedand silently loosened each other’s bonds.
When the van in which they were sealed lurched to an uncomfortable stop, the four heroes were ready. As soon as the back door opened, Boe let loose a shout and the doors exploded off the van, nailing several Guildmembers. The Chameleon encased several more in ice and Fuzzy-B grew to his full size and began picking up random ninjas and throwing them into the trees.Seymour
After looking around for a bit, Boe discovered a rickety stairway leading to the church belfry and went up to do some recon.
He discovered quite soon that the church was right in the center of a sizeable encampment of ninjas and Guildmembers.
Our friends found themselves surrounded… They’d sealed themselves in as effectively as a teenager in a horror movie who runs upstairs when trying to escape a psycho with a knife…
They settled in to wait until they’d heard from the rest of us. Apparently,Seymour
About this time, Shaggy, The Aviator, Lizzard and I emerged from the Siren (which the Aviator had set down in a small clearing in the woods not far from the camp). Shaggy took off ahead, gliding silently from tree to tree doing recon for us and keeping touch via our "connection." Several times he’d dropped down on unsuspecting Guildmembers from above, skewering them with bone shards and sometimes a few choice rocks, effectively clearing our way to the rest of the team.
Then, things got a bit complicated.
Upon reaching the outskirts of the main body of the camp, Shaggy returned to us, breathing a bit heavily from his excursions but smiling impishly. He made an attempt to look more serious upon getting an angry glower from the Aviator but as soon as his back was turned, our formerly winged friend gave him the finger and rolled his eyes.
"I saw that," muttered the Aviator, rummaging around in his backpack for a handfull of small ball-bearings he was planning to use for ammo.
That was when we smelled it... wood smoke. A lot of woodsmoke.
Coming from the front of the church.
This could be bad...
So here goes.
After our "nap" all of us were primed to go play with the evil ninjas. After psyching ourselves up, we got together as a team and tried to reach Seymour... At first I didn’t think it was going to work but thanks to our rest (and possibly the Kraken’s Eyes) we were able to get through.
It was a good thing too.
As the familiar sounds of Seymour’s brain clarified in my mind I realized that he, The Chameleon, Boe and Fuzzy-B were in the middle of a pitched battle in a deserted church somewhere in Canterbury. We all heard the sounds of shouting and then Seymour yelled, "Get your a__es over here! We’re surrounded---We need reinforcements!"
Immediately I broke communication, as did the others. Leading the way, The Aviator crashed through the doors of 117 and across the hall to the Siren. As the rest of us followed, I told Vito and his men where we were going and requested back-up. After a few tersely delivered commands, Vito’s men were sauntering casually toward the exit to their waiting humvees. (One thing I’ve learned about mobsters is that they never seem in much of a hurry to get anywhere, yet they always seem to arrive exactly when they need to).
I wondered about the tank...I had really wanted to give it a whirl...
I shot out the loading dock door and scrambled into the waiting glider.
Interesting side note... One thing they never tell you about Superhero battles is, no one ever feels really prepared. That sick feeling you got in the pit of your stomach when you were called to the principal’s office as a small child is the same feeling you get before a battle.
At first I thought it was a sign of cowardice. Not so. Basically, we’re all still animals and the prospect of a battle provokes the classic "fight or flight" response in all of us, be we pirate queens or lowly scullery wenches.
What I’m leading up to is, the flight to Canterbury was slightly tense. Though we made attempts to sound nonchalant, none of us really had our hearts in it. I knew for certain that the battle would be a real test of our abilities... We were surely outnumbered and facing villains with powers of their own with which we would be unfamiliar.
On the other hand, we were looking forward to pummeling those ninjas into paste.
Luckily, thanks to the speed of the Siren, none of us had a long time to worry about the battle before we had reached the vicinity of the battle.
About this time I once again contacted Seymour, who gave us all a situation report...Apparently, this is what we’d missed...
...After the other van took off with Boe, The Chameleon, Fuzzy-B and Seymour in the back, they’d headed straight to an abandoned church in the wilds of Canterbury. The church had been in use around 1775 when there had still been Shakers living near but it had been replaced in favor of a newer structure sometime within the first years after the Revolutionary War. Frankly, I was amazed it was still standing. Out in the woods, it didn’t even have access to a road, it seems the Guild and Shiruken’s men had basically created their own path through the woods. Sometime during the ride they’d awakenedand silently loosened each other’s bonds.
When the van in which they were sealed lurched to an uncomfortable stop, the four heroes were ready. As soon as the back door opened, Boe let loose a shout and the doors exploded off the van, nailing several Guildmembers. The Chameleon encased several more in ice and Fuzzy-B grew to his full size and began picking up random ninjas and throwing them into the trees.
After looking around for a bit, Boe discovered a rickety stairway leading to the church belfry and went up to do some recon.
He discovered quite soon that the church was right in the center of a sizeable encampment of ninjas and Guildmembers.
Our friends found themselves surrounded… They’d sealed themselves in as effectively as a teenager in a horror movie who runs upstairs when trying to escape a psycho with a knife…
They settled in to wait until they’d heard from the rest of us. Apparently,
About this time, Shaggy, The Aviator, Lizzard and I emerged from the Siren (which the Aviator had set down in a small clearing in the woods not far from the camp). Shaggy took off ahead, gliding silently from tree to tree doing recon for us and keeping touch via our "connection." Several times he’d dropped down on unsuspecting Guildmembers from above, skewering them with bone shards and sometimes a few choice rocks, effectively clearing our way to the rest of the team.
Then, things got a bit complicated.
Upon reaching the outskirts of the main body of the camp, Shaggy returned to us, breathing a bit heavily from his excursions but smiling impishly. He made an attempt to look more serious upon getting an angry glower from the Aviator but as soon as his back was turned, our formerly winged friend gave him the finger and rolled his eyes.
"I saw that," muttered the Aviator, rummaging around in his backpack for a handfull of small ball-bearings he was planning to use for ammo.
That was when we smelled it... wood smoke. A lot of woodsmoke.
Coming from the front of the church.
This could be bad...
Turn the Damn Music Up
Since my plans for today kind of...fell through, in a manner of speaking, I made the rookie mistake of allowing myself to get bullied into attending a "family" lunch with my favorite "love to hate her" aunt.
Before I give anymore details I would just like to point out the following:
I was very good. I was quiet. I behaved myself. I was...dare I say it? LADY LIKE.
I spoke only when spoken to, smiled and nodded in all the appropriate places. I refrained from any and all spastic behavior and I refused to be drawn into arguments or petty sniping.
Here’s what it got me.
Aunt T: "Virginia, have you ever thought about therapy? You’re so... WEIRD."
This comment was the result of me describing what I like about my job. (Mainly, my Inmates).
Yes, what I LIKE about it.
My aunt thinks I should quit being a Saltminer and get a "real" job. She thinks I should go back to school and become a *shudder* LAWYER. Her final word on the subject was,
"Why do you waste your time with those [inmates], when you could be making some real money?"
What.
The.
F___.
Needless to say, I took a bit of a drive after leaving the restaurant.
Here’s what I think...
The louder the music... the better.
I firmly believe that there are days in which I should just get in the car, turn the music up until it vibrates in my sternum and just drive until everything goes away.
I recommend this sort of therapy to anyone and everyone.
Personally I consider it a form of meditation, since it has the effect of completely cleaning my mind out. Focusing on nothing except the road and the beat is help you can’t pay for.
Besides, I was never a big believer in analysis to begin with...
TURN THE MUSIC UP, DAMMIT.
Before I give anymore details I would just like to point out the following:
I was very good. I was quiet. I behaved myself. I was...dare I say it? LADY LIKE.
I spoke only when spoken to, smiled and nodded in all the appropriate places. I refrained from any and all spastic behavior and I refused to be drawn into arguments or petty sniping.
Here’s what it got me.
Aunt T: "Virginia, have you ever thought about therapy? You’re so... WEIRD."
This comment was the result of me describing what I like about my job. (Mainly, my Inmates).
Yes, what I LIKE about it.
My aunt thinks I should quit being a Saltminer and get a "real" job. She thinks I should go back to school and become a *shudder* LAWYER. Her final word on the subject was,
"Why do you waste your time with those [inmates], when you could be making some real money?"
What.
The.
F___.
Needless to say, I took a bit of a drive after leaving the restaurant.
Here’s what I think...
The louder the music... the better.
I firmly believe that there are days in which I should just get in the car, turn the music up until it vibrates in my sternum and just drive until everything goes away.
I recommend this sort of therapy to anyone and everyone.
Personally I consider it a form of meditation, since it has the effect of completely cleaning my mind out. Focusing on nothing except the road and the beat is help you can’t pay for.
Besides, I was never a big believer in analysis to begin with...
TURN THE MUSIC UP, DAMMIT.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
And Now Back to Your Regularly Scheduled Dose of Surreal-ity, Already in Progress
Today was a horrid day, so to staunch the pain of it, I’ll return to the most recent Superhero Story and give you a bit more of the continuing saga... I realize that it’s been a while, so let’s have a little recap, shall we?
When last we left our heroes...
...The Chameleon, Boe, Fuzzy-B and Seymour had been taken by those evil ninjas led by Shiruken and a group of Guildmembers, bent on intimidation. They demanded the return of the Kraken’s Eyes.
...The Aviator, Shaggy and Lizzard had managed to escape the vile villain’s clutches due to superhuman quick-thinking, reflexes and overwhelming luck.
...The Pirate Queen had called in mob reinforcements (Vito Cantara and his men) and was attempting to plan a rescue attempt...
Now if only we could find the lair of these foul weasels...
___________________________________________________________
As the long day wore on we tried to channel inspiration into a workable plan.
The first step was for me to introduce my heroes to Vito and his men, who acted as though they met teenagers with superpowers every day of the week (gotta love the mob...it prepares you for every eventuality).
In fact, Vito even cracked a smile at a few of Shaggy’s shenanigans and his lieutenant was mightily impressed with The Aviator’s skills and quick thinking. One of the guys demanded that Lizzard show her abilities, requesting that she turn into just about everything, from a bedpan to a geranium to a chipmunk. By the time she was finally worn out from the effort it took, he was standing, mouth open, nearly green from jealousy.
Vito tried to make my heroes "an offer they couldn’t refuse" to come and work for him but I quickly changed the subject after saying, "Mr. Cantara, I’m sure they’d like to consider your offer, once they have graduated from college... and recovered the rest of the team..."
He shrugged and let it go. Humoring me, no doubt.
Then I requested some sleeping bags.
It seems I was the only one who appreciated the fact that here were three heroes (and one future crazy cat lady) who hadn’t slept in what felt like forever. There was some grumbling from the peanut gallery but in no time one of the mobsters returned with 4 top quality bags from EMS and we all stretched out in the Basecamp to grab a few hours rest before we began the heavy lifting.
Naturally Shaggy and the Aviator had to outdo each other by finding improbable places to curl up...the Aviator balanced himself precariously on the edge of the music room door (sticking to the wall via his power) like Spider-Man. Shaggy on the other hand zoomed to the ledge above the doorway and after pushing some drums aside and blowing away some dust stretched out himself, finally able to sleep on his back for the first time since he’d suddenly sprouted wings.
Lizzard, true to her serene nature, folded her sleeping bag neatly on a riser in a perfect square just above the floor where I lay and took the form of a small black cat, winding in a circle several times before purring herself (and us) to sleep.
And that was (you saw this coming, didn’t you?) when something weird happened yet again...
It felt like I had just barely closed my eyes when the dream began...
I was in a small, dark, room. Strangely, I felt completely calm. I stood and waited for something to happen. Gradually, the room became suffused with a warm, golden light...The light was coming from an unlikely looking source, a plain, even crudely constructed, pine box very similar in size and shape to a small music box. It sat on a table in the middle of the small room.
As the glow gained in intensity, the other occupants of the room became clear. Standing at the points of the compass were Lizzard(west), The Aviator(east) and Shaggy(south). I at was North. For a moment, we didn’t speak, just looked at one another. Finally the Aviator broke the silence by saying, "Damn, this is the weirdest dream I’ve had, well, ever, actually...Didn’t I just close my eyes?"
I looked at him in amazement and said, "Dude, you too?" At this point both Lizzard and Shaggy began chiming in with similar comments. At pretty much the same time we all realized that this was not really a dream but something else entirely.
And that was when the humming started.
It came from inside the box.
The tune was familiar somehow... At almost the same time, we all began to laugh. It was "My Heart Will Go On" and within moments we were all either humming or singing along with the familiar tune... As our voices rose, something inspiring happend.
The lid of the box opened.
Within were the Kraken’s Eyes. They were glowing. It was then I realized where we were and I nearly slapped my forehead at my own lack of observation skills. We were in the hidden room in my basement. Somehow, either for real or in a dream so detailed that it seemed real, we’d been transported back to my house.
Abruptly the humming ceased and a voice came from the box.
I can’t say for sure but I have to admit, the voice sounded familiar...I know no one will believe it but I could’ve sworn the voice belonged to Barry White (aka, God).
This is what he said,
"Hey Baby...In order to defeat these forces of darkness, you’ll have to take up arms against a sea of troubles...and by opposing, end them. You must each take one of the Kraken’s Eyes as protection. These holy relics, passed down from one generation to the next, will protect your minds from intruders. They also have other uses, which you will have to discover on your own...but use the power wisely and return the Eyes here when you have rescued your friends...There is still much work for you to do and reliance on these relics will result in dependence and fracture your fellowship...Now choose... wisely."
After a moment’s hesitation, I stepped forward and reaching into the box, selected one of the Eyes...at first it appeared as nothing but a glowing blue sphere in my hand, and the vibration it gave off rattled my sternum pleasantly. Within seconds it had changed form and become something entirely innocuous, a black velvet choker from which hung a tiny pewter charm in the shape of a quill pen, so finely detailed that it could have been put to use writing a sonnet... I put it around my neck, closed the clasp and calmly stepped back.
As each of the others followed my lead, something similar happened...Lizzard’s yellow ball of light became a little gold bracelet with several tiny charms hanging from it in the shape of musical notes, rests and a G clef... The Aviator’s orange ball of light became a keychain with a silver plane hanging from it... and Shaggy’s blue orb turned into a black Zippo lighter engraved with a picture of crossed drumsticks on one side and the Japanese symbol for "music" on the other...
Almost as soon as we had made our selections, Barry’s voice returned, lower this time, "You have chosen as you were meant to. Save your friends... and the world from those who would use these powers and relics for evil..."
As he finished the speaking, the lid of the box desended and the light in the room dimmed...
I opened my eyes and sat up in my sleeping bag, completely awake. I could feel the softness of velvet against my neck, and the charm hanging from it felt warm against the hollow of my throat.
The others were all in similar postures, examining their new "trinkets."
I looked, first at Lizzard (who had resumed human form now) and then up at Shaggy and the Aviator. The look of astonishment on all their faces must have mirrored my own. Shaggy said it best when after a moment of silence he made a face, paused, and said (oh so profoundly),
"Huh."
None of us were tired anymore.
Those kidnappers were in big trouble...
When last we left our heroes...
...The Chameleon, Boe, Fuzzy-B and Seymour had been taken by those evil ninjas led by Shiruken and a group of Guildmembers, bent on intimidation. They demanded the return of the Kraken’s Eyes.
...The Aviator, Shaggy and Lizzard had managed to escape the vile villain’s clutches due to superhuman quick-thinking, reflexes and overwhelming luck.
...The Pirate Queen had called in mob reinforcements (Vito Cantara and his men) and was attempting to plan a rescue attempt...
Now if only we could find the lair of these foul weasels...
___________________________________________________________
As the long day wore on we tried to channel inspiration into a workable plan.
The first step was for me to introduce my heroes to Vito and his men, who acted as though they met teenagers with superpowers every day of the week (gotta love the mob...it prepares you for every eventuality).
In fact, Vito even cracked a smile at a few of Shaggy’s shenanigans and his lieutenant was mightily impressed with The Aviator’s skills and quick thinking. One of the guys demanded that Lizzard show her abilities, requesting that she turn into just about everything, from a bedpan to a geranium to a chipmunk. By the time she was finally worn out from the effort it took, he was standing, mouth open, nearly green from jealousy.
Vito tried to make my heroes "an offer they couldn’t refuse" to come and work for him but I quickly changed the subject after saying, "Mr. Cantara, I’m sure they’d like to consider your offer, once they have graduated from college... and recovered the rest of the team..."
He shrugged and let it go. Humoring me, no doubt.
Then I requested some sleeping bags.
It seems I was the only one who appreciated the fact that here were three heroes (and one future crazy cat lady) who hadn’t slept in what felt like forever. There was some grumbling from the peanut gallery but in no time one of the mobsters returned with 4 top quality bags from EMS and we all stretched out in the Basecamp to grab a few hours rest before we began the heavy lifting.
Naturally Shaggy and the Aviator had to outdo each other by finding improbable places to curl up...the Aviator balanced himself precariously on the edge of the music room door (sticking to the wall via his power) like Spider-Man. Shaggy on the other hand zoomed to the ledge above the doorway and after pushing some drums aside and blowing away some dust stretched out himself, finally able to sleep on his back for the first time since he’d suddenly sprouted wings.
Lizzard, true to her serene nature, folded her sleeping bag neatly on a riser in a perfect square just above the floor where I lay and took the form of a small black cat, winding in a circle several times before purring herself (and us) to sleep.
And that was (you saw this coming, didn’t you?) when something weird happened yet again...
It felt like I had just barely closed my eyes when the dream began...
I was in a small, dark, room. Strangely, I felt completely calm. I stood and waited for something to happen. Gradually, the room became suffused with a warm, golden light...The light was coming from an unlikely looking source, a plain, even crudely constructed, pine box very similar in size and shape to a small music box. It sat on a table in the middle of the small room.
As the glow gained in intensity, the other occupants of the room became clear. Standing at the points of the compass were Lizzard(west), The Aviator(east) and Shaggy(south). I at was North. For a moment, we didn’t speak, just looked at one another. Finally the Aviator broke the silence by saying, "Damn, this is the weirdest dream I’ve had, well, ever, actually...Didn’t I just close my eyes?"
I looked at him in amazement and said, "Dude, you too?" At this point both Lizzard and Shaggy began chiming in with similar comments. At pretty much the same time we all realized that this was not really a dream but something else entirely.
And that was when the humming started.
It came from inside the box.
The tune was familiar somehow... At almost the same time, we all began to laugh. It was "My Heart Will Go On" and within moments we were all either humming or singing along with the familiar tune... As our voices rose, something inspiring happend.
The lid of the box opened.
Within were the Kraken’s Eyes. They were glowing. It was then I realized where we were and I nearly slapped my forehead at my own lack of observation skills. We were in the hidden room in my basement. Somehow, either for real or in a dream so detailed that it seemed real, we’d been transported back to my house.
Abruptly the humming ceased and a voice came from the box.
I can’t say for sure but I have to admit, the voice sounded familiar...I know no one will believe it but I could’ve sworn the voice belonged to Barry White (aka, God).
This is what he said,
"Hey Baby...In order to defeat these forces of darkness, you’ll have to take up arms against a sea of troubles...and by opposing, end them. You must each take one of the Kraken’s Eyes as protection. These holy relics, passed down from one generation to the next, will protect your minds from intruders. They also have other uses, which you will have to discover on your own...but use the power wisely and return the Eyes here when you have rescued your friends...There is still much work for you to do and reliance on these relics will result in dependence and fracture your fellowship...Now choose... wisely."
After a moment’s hesitation, I stepped forward and reaching into the box, selected one of the Eyes...at first it appeared as nothing but a glowing blue sphere in my hand, and the vibration it gave off rattled my sternum pleasantly. Within seconds it had changed form and become something entirely innocuous, a black velvet choker from which hung a tiny pewter charm in the shape of a quill pen, so finely detailed that it could have been put to use writing a sonnet... I put it around my neck, closed the clasp and calmly stepped back.
As each of the others followed my lead, something similar happened...Lizzard’s yellow ball of light became a little gold bracelet with several tiny charms hanging from it in the shape of musical notes, rests and a G clef... The Aviator’s orange ball of light became a keychain with a silver plane hanging from it... and Shaggy’s blue orb turned into a black Zippo lighter engraved with a picture of crossed drumsticks on one side and the Japanese symbol for "music" on the other...
Almost as soon as we had made our selections, Barry’s voice returned, lower this time, "You have chosen as you were meant to. Save your friends... and the world from those who would use these powers and relics for evil..."
As he finished the speaking, the lid of the box desended and the light in the room dimmed...
I opened my eyes and sat up in my sleeping bag, completely awake. I could feel the softness of velvet against my neck, and the charm hanging from it felt warm against the hollow of my throat.
The others were all in similar postures, examining their new "trinkets."
I looked, first at Lizzard (who had resumed human form now) and then up at Shaggy and the Aviator. The look of astonishment on all their faces must have mirrored my own. Shaggy said it best when after a moment of silence he made a face, paused, and said (oh so profoundly),
"Huh."
None of us were tired anymore.
Those kidnappers were in big trouble...
Getting Up at the Crack of Sparrow-Fart
So yet again it is early morning and I am awake long before everyone else in the free world.
The question on deck is... What the heck is wrong with me?
I’ll explain, it’s like this... Although I have tried to deny it in the past, I am a morning person.
I think it has something to do with my ADD. See, early in the morning, there is no one around to distract me, nothing to listen to, and I don’t have to worry that by thinking too much I might miss something important.
There’s just me, the cats and the long drive to the Saltmine...
I’ll stop for snacks. I’ll listen to loud music. I’ll run in the silence of the halls. No one will see me. In fact, it will almost be as though I’m the only person in the world.
When I was feeling low a while ago, someone asked me, "Do you need to take a walk so you can be alone?"
My response was to look at this person like he was completely insane and reply, "Why would I want to be alone?"
You see, I have come to the conclusion that I already spend too much time alone, which is why I love the Saltmine... even an introvert like me needs to be surrounded by people some of the time...
I’m just sayin’.
I haven’t been around much lately. Inspiration is failing. I think it has something to do with the time change and my mood... I’m sure things will get back to normal soon.
Or as normal as they ever get in the surreal-ity that is The Pirate Queen’s existance... We’ll see.
Until then, have a great morning (whatever that means to you).
The question on deck is... What the heck is wrong with me?
I’ll explain, it’s like this... Although I have tried to deny it in the past, I am a morning person.
I think it has something to do with my ADD. See, early in the morning, there is no one around to distract me, nothing to listen to, and I don’t have to worry that by thinking too much I might miss something important.
There’s just me, the cats and the long drive to the Saltmine...
I’ll stop for snacks. I’ll listen to loud music. I’ll run in the silence of the halls. No one will see me. In fact, it will almost be as though I’m the only person in the world.
When I was feeling low a while ago, someone asked me, "Do you need to take a walk so you can be alone?"
My response was to look at this person like he was completely insane and reply, "Why would I want to be alone?"
You see, I have come to the conclusion that I already spend too much time alone, which is why I love the Saltmine... even an introvert like me needs to be surrounded by people some of the time...
I’m just sayin’.
I haven’t been around much lately. Inspiration is failing. I think it has something to do with the time change and my mood... I’m sure things will get back to normal soon.
Or as normal as they ever get in the surreal-ity that is The Pirate Queen’s existance... We’ll see.
Until then, have a great morning (whatever that means to you).
Monday, March 17, 2008
Welcome to World Domination 101
I think the time has finally come for me to share my secrets for success in world domination. So without further ado, here are the first three rules (remember to use this information wisely...or at least for monetary gain and the pain and suffering of others...)
1. Be unapologetically evil. This means that no matter what, you are not allowed to express regret for any of your actions, whether or not you actually feel regretful. You must keep your poker face and/or evil laughter on hand at all times. Any sign of weakness will inevitably damage your "street cred" and force you to commit atrocities to keep from being de-throned.
So again, I say... No regrets, being evil is its own reward.
2. Be unexpectedly merciful. I know, I know, this seems to fly directly in the face of what I said previously, but in reality it doesn’t. The true key to world domination is in flexibility... No one is going to be able to run things all the time with maximum efficiency, and no one can possibly destroy/defenestrate/flay all of his/her enemies... Therefore, every once in a while it does pay to be merciful, you never know... The grovelling toadie at your feet today being kicked, could be standing over your sleeping form with a dagger tomorrow night...
Best to cut underlings some slack, on rare occasions.
3. Have someone else taste all your food first. This may seem like a no-brainer, but it’s amazing just how often a good scheme for world domination can be completely and irretrievably foiled by bad sushi. I’m just sayin’, if you want to take chances with your intestines, be my guest but as far as I’m concerned, there is one reason and one reason only to keep freshmen around...
They will eat anything and they never ask questions. If I say to one of them, "Hey you, taste this cookie and, uh, tell me if it’s okay." They think I’m offering them a treat and get excited, whereas anyone else would say,
"Uhh...why?"
Nope. The freshman will just take a bite... Every time.
So, as my plans for world domination continue to develop, I will certainly continue to give you insider tips... but please remember,
Don’t try this at home.
I am a trained professional.
1. Be unapologetically evil. This means that no matter what, you are not allowed to express regret for any of your actions, whether or not you actually feel regretful. You must keep your poker face and/or evil laughter on hand at all times. Any sign of weakness will inevitably damage your "street cred" and force you to commit atrocities to keep from being de-throned.
So again, I say... No regrets, being evil is its own reward.
2. Be unexpectedly merciful. I know, I know, this seems to fly directly in the face of what I said previously, but in reality it doesn’t. The true key to world domination is in flexibility... No one is going to be able to run things all the time with maximum efficiency, and no one can possibly destroy/defenestrate/flay all of his/her enemies... Therefore, every once in a while it does pay to be merciful, you never know... The grovelling toadie at your feet today being kicked, could be standing over your sleeping form with a dagger tomorrow night...
Best to cut underlings some slack, on rare occasions.
3. Have someone else taste all your food first. This may seem like a no-brainer, but it’s amazing just how often a good scheme for world domination can be completely and irretrievably foiled by bad sushi. I’m just sayin’, if you want to take chances with your intestines, be my guest but as far as I’m concerned, there is one reason and one reason only to keep freshmen around...
They will eat anything and they never ask questions. If I say to one of them, "Hey you, taste this cookie and, uh, tell me if it’s okay." They think I’m offering them a treat and get excited, whereas anyone else would say,
"Uhh...why?"
Nope. The freshman will just take a bite... Every time.
So, as my plans for world domination continue to develop, I will certainly continue to give you insider tips... but please remember,
Don’t try this at home.
I am a trained professional.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Proof that I'm Going to the Bad Place When I Die
Okay, so here is yet more evidence that I’m an evil woman...
Today, I was just minding my own business, spreading the usual chaos and destruction as I went about my merry way, when a small child crossed my path.
The child was eating a piece of candy, or rather, was ABOUT to eat the candy. I stepped up, planted my feet and stole the treat, popping it into my own mouth without a second thought.
The child cried.
I actually felt really bad.
Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do... It’s not as though I could give the candy back, and if I did...who would want it?
Anyway, of course I’m lying.
The truth is, I managed, via a complete lack of social skills, to upset a really nice person today and I feel terrible.
...And I DESERVE to feel terrible.
So here’s my penance.
I got this email in my Yahoo account today, and considering my screwup, I’m hoping that possibly making someone actually feel GOOD (for once) will in some small way make up for my being such a complete idiot.
*sigh*
I hate it when I suck at life. I’m no good at this game.
Stop the world. I wanna get off.
This should probably be taped to
Today, I was just minding my own business, spreading the usual chaos and destruction as I went about my merry way, when a small child crossed my path.
The child was eating a piece of candy, or rather, was ABOUT to eat the candy. I stepped up, planted my feet and stole the treat, popping it into my own mouth without a second thought.
The child cried.
I actually felt really bad.
Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do... It’s not as though I could give the candy back, and if I did...who would want it?
Anyway, of course I’m lying.
The truth is, I managed, via a complete lack of social skills, to upset a really nice person today and I feel terrible.
...And I DESERVE to feel terrible.
So here’s my penance.
I got this email in my Yahoo account today, and considering my screwup, I’m hoping that possibly making someone actually feel GOOD (for once) will in some small way make up for my being such a complete idiot.
*sigh*
I hate it when I suck at life. I’m no good at this game.
Stop the world. I wanna get off.
This should probably be taped to
your bathroom mirror where you could read it everyday. You may not realize it, but it’s 100% true.
1. There are at least two people in this world that you would die for.
2. At least 15 people in this world that love you in some way.
3. The only reason anyone would ever hate you is because they want to be just like you.
4. A smile from you can bring happiness to anyone, even if they don’t like you.
5. Every night, SOMEONE thinks about you before they go to sleep.
6. You mean the world to someone.
7. You are special and unique.
8. Someone that you don’t even know exists loves you.
9. When you make the biggest mistake ever, something good comes from it.
10.When you think the world has turned its back on you take another look.
11. Always remember the compliments you received. Forget about the rude remarks.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Every Good Story Has at Least One Zombie...
...The growling grew in strength and intensity and for a moment my Pirate Queen resolve flickered like a headlight with a loose wire.
Of course, I knew I could never look at myself in a mirror again if I abandoned my friend to pain and anguish. I may be a pirate but my philosophy is a lot like the Rangers...never leave a fallen comrade.
I reached way deep down inside, grabbed that scared little part of me by the neck and shook it like a rotweiler with a poodle in its mouth.
Then I took a few steps back, sucked in a deep breath, closed my eyes and threw myself against the door with everything that was in me. The flimsy thing split right down the center, spilling me into the putrid interior of the shack. I also fell flat on the floor with a whoosh of escaping air. (Somehow it was both my finest hour and also a testament to years of weeble-wobbling around the world like a clutzy whirlwind).
I lay for just a moment, there on the hard-packed dirt floor, trying to regain my Pirate Queen fortitude.
Unfortunately, the zombie standing to my right had never lost his.
When I heard the rumbling-grumbling-growl I shot to my knees, peering up. What I saw filled me with icky, icky feelings.
(You see, I use the scientific term for what a living being feels when in the presence of the living dead--I'm so hip)!
What stood, looking down at me was once a man, though how long ago was anyone's guess. The clothes were tattered, rumpled and coated with murk and other unidentifiable crap. The hair was matted and completely worn away in places; leaving the scalp looking like a path through a neighbor's back yard, the kind all the kids ride their bikes on... Still, it was the face that really got to me... The upper lip was completely gone, as though it had been bitten off by the demon-lover from hell. Gore oozed down the thing's chin...not bloody gore, but the green-black of a contaminated cistern. The nose was still there, as perfect as the day the thing had died but it's eyes were two white bulges, no irises to be seen... and no eyelids either.
As much as I'd like to lie and say that I was unaffected by the sight, I can't. My stomach got all queasy and that icky feeling rose, along with bile, into my throat, threatening to make me puke like a 14 year old girl at her first party...
A BAD first party.
Of course, you have to realize that I saw all this in tenths of a second...
As the zombie continued his steady mumbling-grumbling-growl, he turned to face more fully in my direction. Finally, my Pirate Queen reflexes kicked into gear and I shot the rest of the way to my feet and reached behind my back for the dagger I keep for just such zombie emergencies...I knew it really wasn't much use against something already dead but I was willing to tempt fate, and having it in my hand made me feel a bit more in control of things. The zombie advanced a step toward me and as it did I once again heard Edgar's cry of anguish... He was just to my left, in a cage...
Now I had a choice.
Face down the zombie first, or free my caged friend... On the one hand, I might easily defeat the nasty undead weasel and then be quite at my leisure to release my buddy... On the other, I might loose and if I failed to release my friend first, he would suffer the same fate as before...
It was no contest. Forgetting for the nonce about the rotting creature reaching for me, I bent down, grasped the cage door in one hand, put my boot against the edge of the cage and gave one mighty pull... The door shot open and my friend raced for the freedom of the night...
Now it was just us, the gore splattered undead thing and the short, but still quite fierce Pirate Queen...
Now there's gratitude for you.
I was about to turn and face the zombie and my fate, when I felt the cool and slimy flesh of its hand on my neck... And then the sound of gnashing teeth closing in...
I gave a loud screech and committing an act of bravado that was so far beyond the realm of instinct or good sense that it wasn't even in the same UNIVERSE, I threw all my weight backwards into the thing, knocking it to the floor and landing on top of it. I immediately rolled away and staggered to my feet, swinging wildly with my knife on the off chance that the thing was just as quick as I was.
Luckily, it was not.
Unluckily, it was still between me and the door...
And then I remembered...
I'm a kick-ass Pirate Queen! I make my own FREAKING doors!
Putting my head down and taking yet another deep breath, I launched myself at the window in the nearest wall, shooting through it and landing in 24 inches of snow, ice and at the very bottom, mud.
Yes, it was cold. Yes, it sucked.
And yes, it was the greatest cold-water bath I've ever had...
Though I'm not sure if I'll get all the zombie ichor off of the collar of my fleece...
Meh. Edgar is safe and now I know why I got the Batcave so cheaply...
Just so you know, zombies do not make particularly good neighbors.
I'm just sayin'.
Of course, I knew I could never look at myself in a mirror again if I abandoned my friend to pain and anguish. I may be a pirate but my philosophy is a lot like the Rangers...never leave a fallen comrade.
I reached way deep down inside, grabbed that scared little part of me by the neck and shook it like a rotweiler with a poodle in its mouth.
Then I took a few steps back, sucked in a deep breath, closed my eyes and threw myself against the door with everything that was in me. The flimsy thing split right down the center, spilling me into the putrid interior of the shack. I also fell flat on the floor with a whoosh of escaping air. (Somehow it was both my finest hour and also a testament to years of weeble-wobbling around the world like a clutzy whirlwind).
I lay for just a moment, there on the hard-packed dirt floor, trying to regain my Pirate Queen fortitude.
Unfortunately, the zombie standing to my right had never lost his.
When I heard the rumbling-grumbling-growl I shot to my knees, peering up. What I saw filled me with icky, icky feelings.
(You see, I use the scientific term for what a living being feels when in the presence of the living dead--I'm so hip)!
What stood, looking down at me was once a man, though how long ago was anyone's guess. The clothes were tattered, rumpled and coated with murk and other unidentifiable crap. The hair was matted and completely worn away in places; leaving the scalp looking like a path through a neighbor's back yard, the kind all the kids ride their bikes on... Still, it was the face that really got to me... The upper lip was completely gone, as though it had been bitten off by the demon-lover from hell. Gore oozed down the thing's chin...not bloody gore, but the green-black of a contaminated cistern. The nose was still there, as perfect as the day the thing had died but it's eyes were two white bulges, no irises to be seen... and no eyelids either.
As much as I'd like to lie and say that I was unaffected by the sight, I can't. My stomach got all queasy and that icky feeling rose, along with bile, into my throat, threatening to make me puke like a 14 year old girl at her first party...
A BAD first party.
Of course, you have to realize that I saw all this in tenths of a second...
As the zombie continued his steady mumbling-grumbling-growl, he turned to face more fully in my direction. Finally, my Pirate Queen reflexes kicked into gear and I shot the rest of the way to my feet and reached behind my back for the dagger I keep for just such zombie emergencies...I knew it really wasn't much use against something already dead but I was willing to tempt fate, and having it in my hand made me feel a bit more in control of things. The zombie advanced a step toward me and as it did I once again heard Edgar's cry of anguish... He was just to my left, in a cage...
Now I had a choice.
Face down the zombie first, or free my caged friend... On the one hand, I might easily defeat the nasty undead weasel and then be quite at my leisure to release my buddy... On the other, I might loose and if I failed to release my friend first, he would suffer the same fate as before...
It was no contest. Forgetting for the nonce about the rotting creature reaching for me, I bent down, grasped the cage door in one hand, put my boot against the edge of the cage and gave one mighty pull... The door shot open and my friend raced for the freedom of the night...
Now it was just us, the gore splattered undead thing and the short, but still quite fierce Pirate Queen...
Now there's gratitude for you.
I was about to turn and face the zombie and my fate, when I felt the cool and slimy flesh of its hand on my neck... And then the sound of gnashing teeth closing in...
I gave a loud screech and committing an act of bravado that was so far beyond the realm of instinct or good sense that it wasn't even in the same UNIVERSE, I threw all my weight backwards into the thing, knocking it to the floor and landing on top of it. I immediately rolled away and staggered to my feet, swinging wildly with my knife on the off chance that the thing was just as quick as I was.
Luckily, it was not.
Unluckily, it was still between me and the door...
And then I remembered...
I'm a kick-ass Pirate Queen! I make my own FREAKING doors!
Putting my head down and taking yet another deep breath, I launched myself at the window in the nearest wall, shooting through it and landing in 24 inches of snow, ice and at the very bottom, mud.
Yes, it was cold. Yes, it sucked.
And yes, it was the greatest cold-water bath I've ever had...
Though I'm not sure if I'll get all the zombie ichor off of the collar of my fleece...
Meh. Edgar is safe and now I know why I got the Batcave so cheaply...
Just so you know, zombies do not make particularly good neighbors.
I'm just sayin'.
Monday, March 10, 2008
A Continuing Search...Spiritus Mundi Where Are You?
As I continued down the dark road I continued to clear my mind as much as possible.
Somewhere up ahead through the densely packed trees I saw a dim light shine. Slowing my steps and my breathing, I tried not to allow hope to speed me toward the glow.
For a moment I stopped entirely and soaked up the wintry night silence. What I could see of the sky through the limbs above was a deep navy, pocked with sparkling stars. They shone like glitter across the face of the universe and lifted me with them for a moment.
Until I heard the crying.
It was a small, plaintive wail and it came from the same direction as the light.
I would have recognized that voice anywhere. It was Edgar.
I desperately longed to shout his name and tell him I was on my way but the voice of Spiritus Mundi at last spoke to me in a voice that seemed to come from the stars. It whispered deep into my soul... "gently...quietly...He will wait for you."
I choked down my answering cries and stumbled forward a step. The mud of the ruts was tripping me up, as though the earth fought with the stars for control over my behavior. For a moment it was completely up in the air as to which one would win but at last the stars began to resume their musical whispers.
From somewhere deep inside I summoned the courage to be silent and again moved slowly toward the light. The stars were silent again but they had told me all they needed to and I could feel the memory of their song as a warmth inside the core of my being.
Within a few minutes I had gained enough distance to see my destination more clearly. It was a small hovel with only one window. Again, I heard the beseeching cries of my friend. Again, I fought for control of my own voice. Again, I barely held on.
When I reached the plywood door of the shack I hesitated, listening for sounds other than that of my friend's painful cooing. There was nothing at first. And then I heard it... a low, furious growl.
My hand froze in its position on the frame of the door and I breathed in sharply...
Somewhere up ahead through the densely packed trees I saw a dim light shine. Slowing my steps and my breathing, I tried not to allow hope to speed me toward the glow.
For a moment I stopped entirely and soaked up the wintry night silence. What I could see of the sky through the limbs above was a deep navy, pocked with sparkling stars. They shone like glitter across the face of the universe and lifted me with them for a moment.
Until I heard the crying.
It was a small, plaintive wail and it came from the same direction as the light.
I would have recognized that voice anywhere. It was Edgar.
I desperately longed to shout his name and tell him I was on my way but the voice of Spiritus Mundi at last spoke to me in a voice that seemed to come from the stars. It whispered deep into my soul... "gently...quietly...He will wait for you."
I choked down my answering cries and stumbled forward a step. The mud of the ruts was tripping me up, as though the earth fought with the stars for control over my behavior. For a moment it was completely up in the air as to which one would win but at last the stars began to resume their musical whispers.
From somewhere deep inside I summoned the courage to be silent and again moved slowly toward the light. The stars were silent again but they had told me all they needed to and I could feel the memory of their song as a warmth inside the core of my being.
Within a few minutes I had gained enough distance to see my destination more clearly. It was a small hovel with only one window. Again, I heard the beseeching cries of my friend. Again, I fought for control of my own voice. Again, I barely held on.
When I reached the plywood door of the shack I hesitated, listening for sounds other than that of my friend's painful cooing. There was nothing at first. And then I heard it... a low, furious growl.
My hand froze in its position on the frame of the door and I breathed in sharply...
Sunday, March 9, 2008
The Search for Spiritus Mundi
The mud of the dirt road was frozen and the light of the moon barely filtered down through the trees, still I kept moving and ignored the fact that I could twist an ankle at any time.
Something had called me out into the woods... I have no idea why.
Actually, that's a lie.
Ever since my friend Edgar went missing, I'd known something was horribly wrong in Smallborotonville. Edgar was the third friend I'd had who just disappeared suddenly and without any notice. Something about this sleepy little town just was not right.
The Batcave is still a haven... But a haven in shark-infested waters.
So I set out. On foot. Following nothing but that tiny voice of instinct.
I was trying diligently to empty my mind completely, searching for that small voice... Spiritus Mundi... The spirit of the world that knows everything and disperses that information to anyone quiet enough to seek it...
Somehow I ended up several miles from home, on a back road that hadn't been plowed for most of the winter. Nothing lay in my path but two dark, frozen, mud ruts. I continued forward... straight to the mouth of disaster. The moonlight through the trees made their swaying branches look like skeletal fingers grasping for the stars.
I barely slowed.
There was something in the woods ahead. Hopefully it would be my friend Edgar but there was no real telling...
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Rain and Chinese Food...Today Sucks
So I didn't sleep last night... Well, I did, but I had the freakiest dreams and kept waking up.
Perhaps it's a result of staying up late and trying to write a Surreal poem...
At least that's what I'm blaming it on.
So here's the dream...
I found myself standing in a deserted parking lot. Somehow I knew I was in Laconia, though it didn't look anything like Laconia. It was totally empty, cold and there was no sound whatsoever. There were no cars and I had no idea how I'd ended up there.
I looked around and walked for a while until I came to the high school. Again, even though I'd never actually been to LHS, I knew exactly where I was. There were lights on and people inside, so I went in. I was greeted at the door by several of my Saltminers and the first thing Seymour asked me was, "Where have you been? We've been waiting for you so we could start!"
My question was, "So you could start what?"
At this point SadisticDentist, 1976Queen, and Shaggy came in and also asked where I'd been. I was incredibly confused but everyone seemed so happy to see me that I ignored the confusion and just felt elated myself since they were so excited that I'd finally arrived.
I followed them into an enormous concert hall and sat down in a spot that was sort of a combination between a front row in an auditorium and a set of bleachers. (I can't really describe the seating...it seemed to go all the way to the ceiling, where it disappeared). Though it was night time outside when I'd come in, there was sunlight streaming in through the back windows. The concert hall itself was quite dark and there were no instruments anywhere but background music was coming from somewhere behind me. There were several sets of risers in front of me and lots of people I didn't know were standing on them and getting ready to give a concert. There were also a few I did know, and it was weird, because not all of the people getting ready to sing were current Saltminers and most of them weren't even singers. It didn't seem to matter at the time.
For some reason there weren't any other audience members. I remember thinking that it seemed odd that there were no one else, but again, it didn't seem important. For a few minutes I just made myself comfortable and waited with my hands in my lap and a smile on my face.
As the performance was about to begin, I started to feel really edgy. Something was wrong... everyone else was getting ready to sing, and Shaggy and Seymour had disappeared. I knew they were going to miss the concert and I knew that they were going to be performing solos (the knowledge just suddenly appeared in my head...like when you think you've lost your glasses and then realize that they are in your hand).
I got up from my seat and went to some sort of back stage area to look for them. After wandering around for quite some time (I kept getting lost in the curtains) I found them both in a back room. When I asked them why they weren't on stage they told me they'd decided they weren't going to go on. Seymour wouldn't say anything at all to me and all Shaggy would say was, "I'm not ready, I don't think I'm good enough to do it."
I became very upset. Actually, that's a bit of an understatement. I got right up in both of their faces one at a time and DEMANDED that they go out on stage. I think I actually yelled at them (that's really something, since anyone who knows me is well aware that I almost never yell...when I'm really upset I generally get very, very quiet...if anything my voice has a tendency to go down an octave or so...) When they flatly refused to respond to me I actually started crying. In fact, I was so upset by what they said, (and/or refused to say) that when I started crying I WOKE UP from the dream I was crying so hard. (Yeah, it was one of those kind of dreams). After a moment or two I somehow fell back to sleep and was right back where I'd been before I'd woken up, looking at Shaggy and Seymour. I demanded that they go on stage, since they were the only reason I'd shown up in the first place. Finally I actually grabbed each of them by the hand, Shaggy with my left and Seymour with my right, and pulled them toward the stage.
Finally, they acquiesced and went on.
After the concert was over (it was a good one...In fact, good enough to make me cry again...weird) I found myself out in the parking lot once more, at which point I woke up for a second time and gave up on sleep, heading to the kitchen for a soda.
Surreal huh?
Now I keep feeling the need to go back to bed and get some real sleep...
Meh.
Maybe it's just the MSG in the Chinese food...
Perhaps it's a result of staying up late and trying to write a Surreal poem...
At least that's what I'm blaming it on.
So here's the dream...
I found myself standing in a deserted parking lot. Somehow I knew I was in Laconia, though it didn't look anything like Laconia. It was totally empty, cold and there was no sound whatsoever. There were no cars and I had no idea how I'd ended up there.
I looked around and walked for a while until I came to the high school. Again, even though I'd never actually been to LHS, I knew exactly where I was. There were lights on and people inside, so I went in. I was greeted at the door by several of my Saltminers and the first thing Seymour asked me was, "Where have you been? We've been waiting for you so we could start!"
My question was, "So you could start what?"
At this point SadisticDentist, 1976Queen, and Shaggy came in and also asked where I'd been. I was incredibly confused but everyone seemed so happy to see me that I ignored the confusion and just felt elated myself since they were so excited that I'd finally arrived.
I followed them into an enormous concert hall and sat down in a spot that was sort of a combination between a front row in an auditorium and a set of bleachers. (I can't really describe the seating...it seemed to go all the way to the ceiling, where it disappeared). Though it was night time outside when I'd come in, there was sunlight streaming in through the back windows. The concert hall itself was quite dark and there were no instruments anywhere but background music was coming from somewhere behind me. There were several sets of risers in front of me and lots of people I didn't know were standing on them and getting ready to give a concert. There were also a few I did know, and it was weird, because not all of the people getting ready to sing were current Saltminers and most of them weren't even singers. It didn't seem to matter at the time.
For some reason there weren't any other audience members. I remember thinking that it seemed odd that there were no one else, but again, it didn't seem important. For a few minutes I just made myself comfortable and waited with my hands in my lap and a smile on my face.
As the performance was about to begin, I started to feel really edgy. Something was wrong... everyone else was getting ready to sing, and Shaggy and Seymour had disappeared. I knew they were going to miss the concert and I knew that they were going to be performing solos (the knowledge just suddenly appeared in my head...like when you think you've lost your glasses and then realize that they are in your hand).
I got up from my seat and went to some sort of back stage area to look for them. After wandering around for quite some time (I kept getting lost in the curtains) I found them both in a back room. When I asked them why they weren't on stage they told me they'd decided they weren't going to go on. Seymour wouldn't say anything at all to me and all Shaggy would say was, "I'm not ready, I don't think I'm good enough to do it."
I became very upset. Actually, that's a bit of an understatement. I got right up in both of their faces one at a time and DEMANDED that they go out on stage. I think I actually yelled at them (that's really something, since anyone who knows me is well aware that I almost never yell...when I'm really upset I generally get very, very quiet...if anything my voice has a tendency to go down an octave or so...) When they flatly refused to respond to me I actually started crying. In fact, I was so upset by what they said, (and/or refused to say) that when I started crying I WOKE UP from the dream I was crying so hard. (Yeah, it was one of those kind of dreams). After a moment or two I somehow fell back to sleep and was right back where I'd been before I'd woken up, looking at Shaggy and Seymour. I demanded that they go on stage, since they were the only reason I'd shown up in the first place. Finally I actually grabbed each of them by the hand, Shaggy with my left and Seymour with my right, and pulled them toward the stage.
Finally, they acquiesced and went on.
After the concert was over (it was a good one...In fact, good enough to make me cry again...weird) I found myself out in the parking lot once more, at which point I woke up for a second time and gave up on sleep, heading to the kitchen for a soda.
Surreal huh?
Now I keep feeling the need to go back to bed and get some real sleep...
Meh.
Maybe it's just the MSG in the Chinese food...
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Deus Ex Superheroes
Well, it's been a while but I have some excellent news for those of you who are interested (and let's face it...who wouldn't be)...
When last I left you, the mafia was in my room offering assistance in recovering my lost Superheroes and I was about to get the keys to a tank...
And then, finally, something good happened.
One of the goons with Mr. Cantara walked in the room, bent down, and whispered in his ear. There was a short pause before he said, "Okay, go check it out, we'll be there in a minute," and waved the underling away with one hand. From under his heavily-lidded eyes he peered at me and said, "Come out to the back parking lot with me."
Thinking that the tank might already be in the North lot, I got shakily to my feet and followed him down the hallway and out the side door. At first the sight that met my eyes meant nothing to me. Peering out into the center of the lot all I saw was a pile of scrap metal arranged in a dome-like structure that was taller than I was (not so very tall at that) and measured at least 10 feet in circumference. For a moment the sight tangled all the circuits in my brain and I merely stared in bemusement... And then I realized what it might mean for the Team and I staggered toward the pile. The only thing that came out of my throat at first was a series of hitching wheezes, until I finally began shouting, "AVIATOR! Is that you in there?"
I didn't even think about what I was doing as I picked up speed, running toward the pile and proceding to grab the first piece of metal in an attempt to pry it up. I managed to do nothing except cut my hands open on the sharp piece I grabbed. I resumed my shouting and within moments the metal began to peel away of it's own accord, revealing beneath the metal shell three of my Superhero friends.
The Aviator, though quite bedraggled and with eyes tinged red from whatever drug had been administered to him looked only a little worse for wear. He was shaking somewhat from the strain of maintaining so firm a hold over the metal shield he'd somehow managed to construct (mostly from loose pieces of metal he summoned from the roof of the Middle Part of the Saltmine.
Inside the shelter with him were Lizzard, even more green than previously, and a somewhat changed Shaggy.
Now, here's where things get wierd. Apparently, when the Guild had dragged their seemingly unconscious bodies from the Saltmine, they had failed to notice that not everyone had been completely knocked out by the drug. Since she'd been in flux when the drug hit Lizzard, she hadn't recieved a full dose and within minutes she'd begun to swim to the surface of consciousness... Somehow she managed to crawl to Shaggy in the parking lot while most of the Guild was focused on tying me up and preparing their little Q&A.
Upon reaching him she'd grabbed his foot and one of the Aviator's hands and tried something she'd never considered before... She attempted to change all three of them into dragons.
She'd been unsuccessful, changing only herself but something wholly unexpected happened... Although she hadn't changed either Shaggy or the Aviator, she had worked as a conduit between them, transfering some of their powers one to the other... The Aviator awoke at once, feeling a tingling in both hands and Shaggy woke as well. Within seconds, the stumps of his wings healed.
That was when the REALLY weird thing happened... Although his wings did not regenerate, the stumps twisted and changed, turning to metal and seeming to melt down his back and up to his shoulders... He now appeared to have silver tatoos on both shoulderblades that reached down to the middle of his back and up to his shoulders...they looked like strange heiroglyphs, and when he summoned the strength to stand he found something strange had happened...
He could still fly.
And now his clothes would fit again...
Aviator leaped to his feet and went to work with his now much stronger fists, knocking out three of the Guild and a couple of ninjas, while Lizzard went to work breathing fire on the remaining members. Shaggy also leapt to his feet and took out several of the now fleeing ninjas, shooting them with bone spurs and knocking one down with a scissor kick to the head as he leapt into the air without the aid of wings to propel him...
At this point the Aviator began constructing his shelter, intending it to be big enough for all the Superheroes, unfortunately a van containing the other team members had already left the parking lot headed for an unknown destination. Still, he used his powers to protect the three of them as the Guildmembers and ninjas who'd remained behind to question me emerged into the lot. Somehow they had managed to avoid the summons of BlueUniform when he commanded them to lower the sheild and they'd remained inside until hearing my call.
After an exchange of hugs (and a bit of weeping on my part) we all put our heads together...
We would find and rescue the rest of our crew.
AT last...after all the painful screw-ups...
It was ON.
When last I left you, the mafia was in my room offering assistance in recovering my lost Superheroes and I was about to get the keys to a tank...
And then, finally, something good happened.
One of the goons with Mr. Cantara walked in the room, bent down, and whispered in his ear. There was a short pause before he said, "Okay, go check it out, we'll be there in a minute," and waved the underling away with one hand. From under his heavily-lidded eyes he peered at me and said, "Come out to the back parking lot with me."
Thinking that the tank might already be in the North lot, I got shakily to my feet and followed him down the hallway and out the side door. At first the sight that met my eyes meant nothing to me. Peering out into the center of the lot all I saw was a pile of scrap metal arranged in a dome-like structure that was taller than I was (not so very tall at that) and measured at least 10 feet in circumference. For a moment the sight tangled all the circuits in my brain and I merely stared in bemusement... And then I realized what it might mean for the Team and I staggered toward the pile. The only thing that came out of my throat at first was a series of hitching wheezes, until I finally began shouting, "AVIATOR! Is that you in there?"
I didn't even think about what I was doing as I picked up speed, running toward the pile and proceding to grab the first piece of metal in an attempt to pry it up. I managed to do nothing except cut my hands open on the sharp piece I grabbed. I resumed my shouting and within moments the metal began to peel away of it's own accord, revealing beneath the metal shell three of my Superhero friends.
The Aviator, though quite bedraggled and with eyes tinged red from whatever drug had been administered to him looked only a little worse for wear. He was shaking somewhat from the strain of maintaining so firm a hold over the metal shield he'd somehow managed to construct (mostly from loose pieces of metal he summoned from the roof of the Middle Part of the Saltmine.
Inside the shelter with him were Lizzard, even more green than previously, and a somewhat changed Shaggy.
Now, here's where things get wierd. Apparently, when the Guild had dragged their seemingly unconscious bodies from the Saltmine, they had failed to notice that not everyone had been completely knocked out by the drug. Since she'd been in flux when the drug hit Lizzard, she hadn't recieved a full dose and within minutes she'd begun to swim to the surface of consciousness... Somehow she managed to crawl to Shaggy in the parking lot while most of the Guild was focused on tying me up and preparing their little Q&A.
Upon reaching him she'd grabbed his foot and one of the Aviator's hands and tried something she'd never considered before... She attempted to change all three of them into dragons.
She'd been unsuccessful, changing only herself but something wholly unexpected happened... Although she hadn't changed either Shaggy or the Aviator, she had worked as a conduit between them, transfering some of their powers one to the other... The Aviator awoke at once, feeling a tingling in both hands and Shaggy woke as well. Within seconds, the stumps of his wings healed.
That was when the REALLY weird thing happened... Although his wings did not regenerate, the stumps twisted and changed, turning to metal and seeming to melt down his back and up to his shoulders... He now appeared to have silver tatoos on both shoulderblades that reached down to the middle of his back and up to his shoulders...they looked like strange heiroglyphs, and when he summoned the strength to stand he found something strange had happened...
He could still fly.
And now his clothes would fit again...
Aviator leaped to his feet and went to work with his now much stronger fists, knocking out three of the Guild and a couple of ninjas, while Lizzard went to work breathing fire on the remaining members. Shaggy also leapt to his feet and took out several of the now fleeing ninjas, shooting them with bone spurs and knocking one down with a scissor kick to the head as he leapt into the air without the aid of wings to propel him...
At this point the Aviator began constructing his shelter, intending it to be big enough for all the Superheroes, unfortunately a van containing the other team members had already left the parking lot headed for an unknown destination. Still, he used his powers to protect the three of them as the Guildmembers and ninjas who'd remained behind to question me emerged into the lot. Somehow they had managed to avoid the summons of BlueUniform when he commanded them to lower the sheild and they'd remained inside until hearing my call.
After an exchange of hugs (and a bit of weeping on my part) we all put our heads together...
We would find and rescue the rest of our crew.
AT last...after all the painful screw-ups...
It was ON.
Early Morning Conspiracy Theory
I was told that on Sunday we will be losing an hour.
This freaks me out a little.
What I want to know is, where exactly does that extra hour go when we lose it?
Does it go somewhere to hang out with all the other missing hours?
Is it possible that somewhere there is a room, a large room where all of the hours we can't account for in our lives get together, drink soda, eat chips, play Rock Band, Halo 3 and DDR, and talk about the stupid stuff we've done that we've forgotten about?
Do those hours laugh at us and talk about how lame we are?
I wonder this since I know for a fact that I remember things that most people don't.
Seriously.
One time, when I was just a little Pirate Princess, I was talking with some friends in college about school. None of my friends could remember elementary school.
I have never had this luck. To this day, not only can I tell you the names of every teacher I ever had, I can also describe every classroom, friend and most of the details of my life. I remember everything.
The Bearded One insists that this makes me a total freak. He has often said to me, "Aikens, how the hell do you remember that?"
I don't know. I just do.
Some other things I remember...people's middle names and exactly where I was and what I was thinking when I first saw them (seriously...ask if you don't believe me). Apparently, if I hear something, even if it seems like an inane detail, I remember it, basically forever. I firmly believe that I remember things that people say and do that completely escape their notice.
In some ways, this is good. In other ways...not so much. Apparently my brain never shuts off, even when I want it to.
So the idea of losing an hour really pisses me off. What if something happened in that missing hour that I would WANT to remember?
Memories, for me at least, are like small treasures wrapped in tissue paper that I take out of their boxes, turn over in my hands, and study. They make me feel warm when the world is cold and dark...
So I say, fight the power. Deny that missing hour...live like there are 25 hours in every day. Choose memory.
But if you do choose to let that hour go... Remember this, if nothing else,
I'll remember for you.
And I'll remember you, even if you forget.
Seriously, ask me anything.
Just call me the Oracle of Memory. I'll tell you things you've forgotten.
Promise.
This freaks me out a little.
What I want to know is, where exactly does that extra hour go when we lose it?
Does it go somewhere to hang out with all the other missing hours?
Is it possible that somewhere there is a room, a large room where all of the hours we can't account for in our lives get together, drink soda, eat chips, play Rock Band, Halo 3 and DDR, and talk about the stupid stuff we've done that we've forgotten about?
Do those hours laugh at us and talk about how lame we are?
I wonder this since I know for a fact that I remember things that most people don't.
Seriously.
One time, when I was just a little Pirate Princess, I was talking with some friends in college about school. None of my friends could remember elementary school.
I have never had this luck. To this day, not only can I tell you the names of every teacher I ever had, I can also describe every classroom, friend and most of the details of my life. I remember everything.
The Bearded One insists that this makes me a total freak. He has often said to me, "Aikens, how the hell do you remember that?"
I don't know. I just do.
Some other things I remember...people's middle names and exactly where I was and what I was thinking when I first saw them (seriously...ask if you don't believe me). Apparently, if I hear something, even if it seems like an inane detail, I remember it, basically forever. I firmly believe that I remember things that people say and do that completely escape their notice.
In some ways, this is good. In other ways...not so much. Apparently my brain never shuts off, even when I want it to.
So the idea of losing an hour really pisses me off. What if something happened in that missing hour that I would WANT to remember?
Memories, for me at least, are like small treasures wrapped in tissue paper that I take out of their boxes, turn over in my hands, and study. They make me feel warm when the world is cold and dark...
So I say, fight the power. Deny that missing hour...live like there are 25 hours in every day. Choose memory.
But if you do choose to let that hour go... Remember this, if nothing else,
I'll remember for you.
And I'll remember you, even if you forget.
Seriously, ask me anything.
Just call me the Oracle of Memory. I'll tell you things you've forgotten.
Promise.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
My Mentor, Dr Crazy
I have a friend at the Saltmine who I've named Dr Crazy. He knows this, in fact, it may have even been his idea. He is also a Buddhist and we've had a great many interesting conversations on the subject. I have the utmost respect for him since he's one of the few people I know who will tell me exactly what he thinks even when he knows that I might not want to hear it.
He once said to me something along these lines,
"Virginia, people are always talking about how to make the world a better place and how if we all just treated each other well, the world would be perfect. My question is, 'why the F--- should the world be perfect?' The whole point of living is that nothing is ever perfect, if it was how would we ever learn anything...particularly compassion? It's the act of being kind to people, even when they don't particularly deserve it that makes us what we are. Choosing to accept that things aren't perfect and never will be brings us closer to our ultimate goal." (This is of course, a paraphrase and I likely left quite a bit out, if so, the screwup is mine, not his).
Anyway, this point was driven home to me today in a 2.5 hour meeting after the Saltmine session closed for the day. I dragged my butt home, plopped down and had a moment of clarity...
Nothing is perfect. It was a good day and I ended it in the usual spot, having an enjoyable 7th period...and then there was that meeting.
The act of accepting that no day at the Saltmine will ever be perfect didn't give me a warm fuzzy feeling, but it did let me know that I should really appreciate the good moments, not just at the Saltmine, but everywhere.
Does that make sense? Probably not.
I'm just sayin'.
Enjoy those brief moments of respite from the craziness. Thank Carlos for all my Inmates and periods 1-7, trust me, if it weren't for them, there is no way I would put up with those darn meetings...
He once said to me something along these lines,
"Virginia, people are always talking about how to make the world a better place and how if we all just treated each other well, the world would be perfect. My question is, 'why the F--- should the world be perfect?' The whole point of living is that nothing is ever perfect, if it was how would we ever learn anything...particularly compassion? It's the act of being kind to people, even when they don't particularly deserve it that makes us what we are. Choosing to accept that things aren't perfect and never will be brings us closer to our ultimate goal." (This is of course, a paraphrase and I likely left quite a bit out, if so, the screwup is mine, not his).
Anyway, this point was driven home to me today in a 2.5 hour meeting after the Saltmine session closed for the day. I dragged my butt home, plopped down and had a moment of clarity...
Nothing is perfect. It was a good day and I ended it in the usual spot, having an enjoyable 7th period...and then there was that meeting.
The act of accepting that no day at the Saltmine will ever be perfect didn't give me a warm fuzzy feeling, but it did let me know that I should really appreciate the good moments, not just at the Saltmine, but everywhere.
Does that make sense? Probably not.
I'm just sayin'.
Enjoy those brief moments of respite from the craziness. Thank Carlos for all my Inmates and periods 1-7, trust me, if it weren't for them, there is no way I would put up with those darn meetings...
Monday, March 3, 2008
Back to the Saltmine...Pardon the Expression
Could you pass the salt?
*sigh*
It is currently4:55am and I am WAAAY behind this morning. Although I woke up at the usual time (4:20 ) and even managed to drag my sorry butt out of bed by 4:35 , I just barely finished a Red Bull and I feel like the Plague on a toothpick.
I'm in no hurry this morning...You see, although I have to go back to the Saltmine today, there won't be any Inmates there... Only other Miners. Hence, no real reason for me to hurry... Usually I am so excited to see my Inmates after a long vacation that I hurry right in to see how they are... But not today friends and neighbors and I'll tell you why...
I have another day of solid meetings.
Yeah, color me excited.
I will definitely be wearing a stripper name tag. Today the name of choice will either be Lola or Candi (with a heart over the "i" of course).
Most likely, the only thing that will keep me from committing acts of immorality and destruction will be sitting with MrBigTall and DanskoGirl76. Then again... MrBigTall is kind of a bad influence on me, we are constantly trying to "one-up" one another in terms of saying something... uhh... inappropriate...
But at least it'll be entertaining.
Then again, on a day like today... Anything can happen...
Don't worry, I'll tell ya all about it when I return...
Promise.
*sigh*
It is currently
I'm in no hurry this morning...You see, although I have to go back to the Saltmine today, there won't be any Inmates there... Only other Miners. Hence, no real reason for me to hurry... Usually I am so excited to see my Inmates after a long vacation that I hurry right in to see how they are... But not today friends and neighbors and I'll tell you why...
I have another day of solid meetings.
Yeah, color me excited.
I will definitely be wearing a stripper name tag. Today the name of choice will either be Lola or Candi (with a heart over the "i" of course).
Most likely, the only thing that will keep me from committing acts of immorality and destruction will be sitting with MrBigTall and DanskoGirl76. Then again... MrBigTall is kind of a bad influence on me, we are constantly trying to "one-up" one another in terms of saying something... uhh... inappropriate...
But at least it'll be entertaining.
Then again, on a day like today... Anything can happen...
Don't worry, I'll tell ya all about it when I return...
Promise.
There Is No Spoon...
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so here goes nothin' (so to speak).
Last night I had this dream where I was running through an abandoned building. There was someone chasing me that I couldn't see. Every time I found a good hiding spot I would relax, then I would hear the footsteps of the person chasing me and realize that there was something critically wrong with my hiding spot. I would then have to try to escape and find a new place to hide...
When I woke up I was supremely freaked out and then I realized, 'thank Carlos, it was only a dream...'
Then I remembered, the Saltmine will re-open on Tuesday...
But then after I got up I came on here and read an interesting blog which made me realize...
What excactly is a dream? Perhaps it's a dream that I'm typing this right now... How can we ever really know?
Therefore it follows... Perhaps if there was no one following me in my dream, isn't it also possible that, there is no Saltmine... Maybe all life is just another form of dreaming.
It would certainly account for the surreal quality of "real life."
So just remember, when things get really bad,
"In order to bend the Saltmine, you must simply remember, there IS no Saltmine."
Saturday, March 1, 2008
The Pirate Life
Earlier today I was just laying in my cabin, feeling the waves sloshing against the deck and I decided that it was definitely time to head out.
I went on shore, hired a crew of toothless, one-legged, salty dogs and we headed out into the open. I was recently introduced to the beauty of South Africa by a friend, so I thought...
'Why not?'
As you well know, this is a phrase which has never gotten me anything but trouble... and I like it.
I'll be back in ship-shape by Tuesday...
The Saltmine awaits. But I have a few hours yet and I plan to make the most of them.
I went on shore, hired a crew of toothless, one-legged, salty dogs and we headed out into the open. I was recently introduced to the beauty of South Africa by a friend, so I thought...
'Why not?'
As you well know, this is a phrase which has never gotten me anything but trouble... and I like it.
I'll be back in ship-shape by Tuesday...
The Saltmine awaits. But I have a few hours yet and I plan to make the most of them.
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Yup... you guessed it...some random person I'm putting up a picture of...no relation to me at all
Okay fine. It's me.
