Wednesday, December 24, 2014


    Why am I here?  This makes no sense. It is impossible and always will be.  Nope, you're wrong.  Idiot.
   "And then he had risen!"  Really, just like in those comic books I read as a child.  Iron Man crushed by the rubble comes out with half the mask cut out with sparks flying from the exposed wires.  Great, it's Easter, this means I'm here even longer.  Just what i wanted.  Hey Jesus, whoop me up some wine from this water bottle, make me a happy man.
   "Do you believe this crap?"
   "Of coarse I believe these beautiful morals".  This moral? Does she know what they did to those kids when i was in school.  Yet she trusts our child with them every Sunday night to get enlightened.  Who does she think she is? My children are at risk, they could be scared.  Ooooh let's kneel now that's just great.
   "And he took the bread..."  Let me break it over your head.  I have to eat this?  Where have his hands been?  Ugh.  Now the wine.  Great, he's gonna get wated up there.  Stumble down the stairs. "Which one of you peseants want some fricken' bread."  That would make this better.
  "And drink of it,"  I'll drink of it, alright.  Me and you father let's have a fun time.  Then it will seriously be a happy hour.  Now we're getting up great.  Bread is stale.  That's not even whine what the hell.
   "Love and serve the Lord."
   "Let's go!"  Oooh dammit.  I said that way too loud.  "What are you all looking at? We're all thinking the same thing.  Look at him he's about to sprint out here.  Why are you even here?  You looked bored outta your mind.  This is fricken' nuts.  Let's all go here even when we know we'll be bored.  Thank you-umm gotta go cook the ham good seeing you.

Hybridized Fan-Fiction

Stephen Hillenberg (writer of SpongeBob) writes J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit (With SpongeBob characters)

   Who lives in a hole under the ground?  SpongeBob Squarepants.  Like other hobbits, SpongeBob was not adventurous, in the slightest, at all, ever.  But it all changed when he came.  A wizard by the name of Squidward.  They spoke of their past together of the fireworks the wizard once had made.  But, SpongeBob had not known the meaning.

   Thirteen dwarves later.

   SpongeBob had found the mark left upon his door.  He was very unappreciative of such.  He knew by the glow it gave off that it was what had attracted the crabs.  "We need you Sponge.  You can change into different shapes, loose limbs and fall from any heights.  You're the greatest of burglars," said Mr. Krabs, seeming to lead the other twelve crabs.
   "Burger? Yeah I cook patties. they're-"
   "Not a burger, a burglar."
   "Um is that not the same word?"
   "It's a different word."
   The sponge laughed.  "No. Crabs these days"

   Five minutes of confusion later.

   "You basically steal stuff."
   "Oh, isn't that bad. I'm not doing it. You guys will have to just do it yourselves."
   And with that, the crabs concurred.  They mounted their ponies and left.  SpongeBob, noticed that he, lost most of his knickknacks.  "Cheap crabs," he mumbled.  "Last time of them ever shows their shell in this home. Nope. Never!"
   "You are just as selfish."
   "I thought you left, too."
   "Well, I didn't," said the wizard from the shadows.
   "What did they want from me? I'm a sponge. It's to dangerous for me. Stealing,"
   "They wanted their homeland, which is why they wanted you.  They lost it one day.  It was big, it was all wiggly and it ate everything.  Like an Alaskan Bull Worm.  One day it found Rock bottom, where all the crabs live, and took it for its own."
   "I need a drink."

   One trip to Goofy Goober's later.

   "Ugh wake up. It's three in the morning," said the waiter.
   "I could catch up with the crabs. I had this dream where-"
   "I don't care." 
   On that note, the sponge flew across the sandy plains, reefs, and coral beds.  "I'm ready!"  The crabs thought it was nice of him to join and they continued without quarrel.  Glad, SpongeBob found they kept a seahorse for him too.  He learned of all the battles the crabs fought and of their homeland.  He was told of the Alaskan Bull Worm who took their lands.  Over the journey, the novice sponge began to think of what he got himself into.  He had no idea that he would have to go against the beat itself.
What am I going to do?  Thought the sponge.  Through many biomes they traveled together and still SpongeBob knew very little of Mr. Krabs and his company.

   Six months of journeys and random and completely obnoxious songs later.

   "We there yet?" said SpongeBob
   "We there yet?"
   "We there-"
   "For a Sponge you don't seem to absorb much," angrily stated Mr. Krabs. "Wait this is it."  The company stared down the road running on a right angle down.  Straight down it went for at least five hundred feet.
   "Woah, looks dangerous."
   "That's where you come in sponge," Mr. Krabs laughed.  "If you get the crown of King Neptune we got back from Shell City, we'll be able to get the worm out.  It's in that vending."
   SpongeBob knew perfectly of the vending machine.  "It doesn't work, I tried it when I got stuck here from Glove World."
   "Again, that's your problem."
   "Well, I'm a man, I'll do it."  SpongeBob made his way down the street, or tumbled really fast.  He journeyed through the empty road quietly double-taking at every creak.  It was dark sand all he could see was the vending machine's light.  "This isn't you're average everyday darkness, this is advanced darkness."  He reached the illuminated glass pane, staring into the gold of the crown.  "Auuung how am I supposed to get it to work now.  He sighed in desperation.
   Clink.  "NO WAY!"  He grasped the gold edge and turned around.  He was staring into a hairy pink hide.  Dang it.  He ran for his life to the crabs.  He sprinted as the wind was flowing through his white striped socks.  At a loss of breath, he stumbled to the road.  Turning back he  saw the Worm zigzagging toward him. He looked at the sweating crabs and knew he must succeed.  He sprinted up the road that led straight up.  "WOOOOOOOOOOOO, I did it!  I proved grandpappy wrong.  I can run up ninety degree angles.  I'm ready."  The sponge ran back home with excitement to find the crown stiil on his head.  Oops.

Friday, December 5, 2014

Advisory Slam Poetry

When you are in your house hold your he up high,
And your sibling hits you return the favor,
And they steal from you take it back,
And when they swear at you do not accept it.

When you walk down the street hold your head up high,
And somebody walks into you without reply do not go without question,
And somebody laughs at you do not bother,
And somebody dives their hand in your pocket do not hesitate.

When you walk in to school hold your head up high,
And others slap your books down do so to them,
And you are blamed and innocent do not be scared to defend yourself,
And you get pushed around do not go silent.


Speaker:     The poets the speaker.
Occassion: It is a time of depression.
Audiance:  The poet is (The poet is speaking to herself).
Purpose:     The poet wants to teach herself how to live morally and fulfilled.
Subject:      The poet is expressing moral ways of living to better one's (herself's) life.

Friday, November 21, 2014

Nature Poem

Nature's love can be found throughout the lands
With birds in trees and crabs in the sands
All to follow nature's demand
Animals run on the floors
Trees blowing in the wind
Waves beating shores
Mountains sinned
And course

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Refrain Poem

The house is standing but empty inside
Darkness of despair permeates the air

The house is standing but empty inside
The walls have crumbled and roof is falling

The house is standing but empty inside
Every wind that hits blowing it to the side

The house is standing but empty inside
Broken from those who once had entered

Burning, falling. drowning inside.

Poem 1 editing

The Sun always leaves me,
But unlike you it returns,
Every morning it greets me,
But not so much for you.

The Sun was a cold white,
And now a burning red,
The rays that used to love me,
Now burn me with such hate.

The Sun always leaves me,
But unlike you it returns,
And now I feel the cold,
Never to feel your warmth.

First phase:
There were some words that were not needed.
Some lines did not fit the poem.
There was excess punctuation.
There was some bad word choice (syntax).

The Sun always leaves me,
But unlike you it returns,
Every morning it greets me,
But not so much for you.
The Sun was a cold white,
And now a burning red,
The rays that used to love me,
Now burn me with such wrath.
The Sun always leaves me,
But unlike you it returns,
And now I feel the cold,
Never to feel the warmth.

Second Phase:
There was not enough imagery.
The poem was not implicit.
Some misused words were present.

The Sun had left me once,
But unlike you it returns,
Every morning it returns to me,
But not the same for you.
The Sun was a cold white,
But now a burning red,
The rays that used to love me,
Now burn me with such wrath.
The Sun always leaves me,
But unlike you it returns,
And now I feel the cold,
Never to feel the warmth.

Third Phase:
The word "sun" could be replaced with "it".
There was some words that could be replaced.
The rhythm did not work.

It  once had left me for night
Then night had given it back
But now I fear it will never
Return to my begging arms

It once was a pleasant white
Now it's a blistering red
The rays that once had loved me
Burn as they don't hold

The sun left me for night
But night will not give it back
And now I sit in darkness
Forever in the cold

Poem 1

It  once had left me for night
Then night had given it back
But now I fear it will never
Return to my begging arms

It once was a pleasant white
Now it's a blistering red
The rays that once had loved me
Burn as they don't hold

The sun left me for night
But night will not give it back
And now I sit in darkness
Forever in the cold

Thursday, October 30, 2014


   Beautiful?  Your rays are so bright, blinding as you.  They are orange, yellow, or white, I cannot tell.  The warmth they give is loving, like mother to her son.  But when with too much your love burns me.  Your love reaches all of Earth. Even lightens the darkest parts of its soul.  Your rays like arms and fingers reach into the darkness of Earths soul. Beautiful.

Friday, October 24, 2014

Angry Letter (FINAL)

Dear TSA,
      Traveling is a very nerve-wracking thing to do.  Airplanes, especially, are cause much stress and anxiety.  Recently, on a Make a Wish Trip my family and I were deeply inconvenienced by your lack of knowledge, ignorance, and inobservances.  In security we found even with a large blue pin that says in large font: "MAKE A WISH" that you could not address the fact that we were not posing a threat.  You expedited my father and I but not my mother who has trouble with walking, and my brother who has other medical needs.  This not only delayed us, but sent a message of how your staff was careless, but also ignorant.  However, I am glad you checked to ensure my mother who troubled with waking carried a minor bomb or chemical in her shoe.  it would have been a shame if she had ruined my trip by exploding the plane.
    Later in the process, our bags were fully checked and devices powered on and off as workers asked what the Wish was for.  We had thought that if you noticed the pin, it should register we are not going to be the ones to bomb or hijack the plane.  but with technology of 2014, you never know when somebody is going to make a hack an airliner app. One worker even sifted through a bag of my brother's containing only medicine, even checking inside some bottles for drugs, anthrax, or any other chemical which we obviously would not have.  We found this very insulting as you possibly thought that we used pins and children to disguise the next plane hijacking.  Also, your stupidity is shown by the fact that on Jamaica a native gave us a wooden carving for free seeing the pin on our bag.  The fact that a poor person would do this when you could not expedite my whole family having the pins is shocking and shows you have an ignorant, unobservant staff.  But it is a good thing they checked to see if my ill brother would possibly kill his little sibling on a Make A Wish vacation and everybody else on the plane with anthrax .
    At the terminal we were surprised to see a teenager with a bag in the shape of a rifle.  Not only was it a gun but it was his carry-on which did no meet the standards for our Jet Blue flight.  But I perfectly understand that a hunting rifle poses no threat in the slightest.  If the plane was to be hijacked he could defend us.  Never mind, if the the plane was to be hijacked, he would be the one to do it.
   Overall, your employees are very incompetent and sometimes stupid.  We saw many supried to see you could wheel a suitcase around.  When they saw people like us wheeling a suitcase and holding a carry on, (two actions at once) you could see jaws hit the floor. It must be nice being that stupid, every time you wake up it is a whole new adventure because you are to stupid to remember yesterday,  But I can't assume, just ask your workers for a legitimate explanation.  If you want to prevent plane hijacking and bombing, please make sure your employees use common sense, are literate, and have the ability to use critical thinking skills to solve a two step problem.
Dylan Moreau

Monday, October 20, 2014

Post Script

   According to The Plot Sickens most students tested with writing a story when the first two sentences given, the endings are sad and or tragic.  Mine was, too, but for other reasons besides culture.  The only aspect effected by my culture where military is often thought of and advanced is the implicit telling of an airborne operation.  It ends with saying few will survive, but not because I wanted them to die.  Most might have lived if I was to continue the story.  Originally, I was going to do a story of an average plane ride.  This of course would be boring especially because it was explicit as in nothing for the audience to figure themselves.  I realized I could make the children low level soldiers and the outnumbered adults officers and generals.  Also, seeing they are an airborne division I had them heroically jump to battle.  There was little time left in class to complete the draft so instead of saying they all lived and make you happy, I showed how war really is, there is one victor.  In this story it obviously was not the Americans which I made the gloomy fog show.  This is why the fog "thickened and grew darker" as the soldiers thought of it more.  This is how my story is not really like what the author says.
   However, I see how she came to her conclusion.  Many children are influenced by culture.  This is how many people come to conclusions of others too.  Children as they grow like to play as if they were in the army.  They also find other violent aspect of life interesting.  If they are to grow up with violence, drugs, or alcohol around them, they will most probably incorporate it in their writing like the students.  Therefore, as I agree with the author of The Plot Sickens, although, my story is an exception.  

Short Fictional

   I stare down at the body.  Covered and swimming in blood.  The face with a horrified look.  The limbs flailed out in every direction.  This is the best  one yet.  I drag the body to my trunk and throw it in.I hear it bouncing in my trunk.  The walkie-talkie is sounding, startled I speed forward past a pulled over car.  Its sirens go off and I know I must stop.
   "Step out of the car son," the grey-haired man says with some anger.  The walkie-talkie sounds again.  "Pop the trun' son."
   "It's my son's stupid toy why?"
   "What are you talkin' 'bout boy?" Oh no, he did not hear the walkie-talkie.  I know what, lets make this a really fun night.
   I pop the trunk and quickly pull the gun out of the hollister and shoot him low.  Thank you God for the cop tying his shoes. I throw him in the trunk to not be detected.

      I'm lying in this trunk thinking of how to get out.  The murderer left the other cops gun in here but I don't know where it is.  I'll wait for him to stop.  That's what I'll do. The brake lights flash.  No sight of it.  A few minutes later their on for a while I look but am blinded by the blood of the cheif.  
  I feel the car violently turn.  There are wrenches, drills, and hammers falling on my and bumping into me. The drill stabs my leg and its hard to breathe, it hurts so much as I try to bend to get it out, and worsens as the car turns again.  Its stabbing further in, I yelp even harder. 
   Reaching.  Reaching.  Reaching. O feel the rubber grip, quick tug.  I yell even more. I hear the shift click.  I feel alone. Where's the murderer?  Click.  The ceiling rises.

   "Hi, how are you?" Why is he afraid I do not understand.  He scrambles but I shoot his other leg. Somebody has some issues. "Do you need help?  I think you do.  Let me fix you up sweetums.  I know just what you want!"

   I feel the dirt filter through my hair as the my legs are pulled toward the dark log cabin.  I am pulled to his shining silver table.  "I know just what you want," he says.  The drill in his hand starts to turn.

Timed Prompt

   Christmas Eve.  Fog stuck to the tarmac at Lindbergh Field.  The delayed flight was now ready to board.  As seated the passengers looked to the windows to the back of them.  They pushed the wolf grey cover upwards but it was still there.  Outside of the room there is a sudden roar that slowly gets louder.  The pilot instructs them of their protocol.  The passengers looked through the window across them to see the cloud move and form around the plane.  The cloud started to move faster and faster.

   The children grew nervous and anxious.  The outnumbered parents tried to hush them.  The floor jerked up and the passengers started to lean to their left and right.  They thought about what was coming  as the cloud got thicker.  The deeper they thought the darker and thicker the cloud grew.  The room also started to rattle more.

  The pilot was desperate to see.  He constantly checked the black and green screen.  He grew more nervous and comfortable as more green crosses joined his.  He too was nervous about what was coming.  The radio constantly flared like a firework show with orders and coordinates.

   The spacious room ratted again.  They new they were closer as the fog cleared little by little and the desert wings shined in the baking sun.  They looked down from time to time seeing the faces across from them shining with sweat as they looked up to God, down in desperation, or staring back at them under the green and tan helmets.

   Eventually in all the silence one parent got up, confidently with a pessimistic tone instructed his fellow parents and brave children.  The Titan leveled out and one by one the fearful children, followed by the parents jumped out in formation.  Few ever to see another Christmas Eve again.

Monday, October 6, 2014

One Act Play

Jim-    mental patient
Rick-   Jim's best friend
Mary-  Random teenager

Jim and Rick are walking down a street of a small town close to dark on a spring day.

Rick: So... Did you get that job yet?
Jim: Um... No... I didn't get that job. Laughing
Rick: I'm sorry.
Jim: It' okay you get yours?  Laughing hard
Rick: Yeah, I got to go tomorrow. I won't be able to see you but maybe later in the week.
Jim: Ha don't worry 'bout me it's all chill.  Giggling
Rick: Jokingly What you laughing at, ha.
Jim: I dunno.
Mary: Bumping into Rick  What's your problem?
Rick: Mine, what's yours?
Mary: You.  Thanks fer askin'.
Jim:  Ya'll know each other?
Rick and Mary: No!
Jim: Sorry I-
Mary: Shu'up nobody asked you.
Rick: Hey, he's my friend don't you dare speak to him like that.
Mary: Really what you gunna do?  You got to really have low standards to like him.  Just look at 'em.
Rick: You say one more thing about him your family will be burying you tomorrow!
Mary: Your an idiot just like him. Jim starts to sob
Rick: You shut up you piece of crap! Jim sobbing more while frightened
Mary: You baby shu'up!
Rick: Trying to hold it in I told you this is your last chance go away.
Mary: Make me!
Rick infuriated clenches his first and thrusts one at her nose.  Mary falls on her butt. Jim screams, cries and runs off.
Rick: What nothing else to add?  You sure? Thought so.
Jim: Walks back to Rick in a nervous fashion  Why did ya' do that?  She-
Rick: She made fun of you, she deserved it.
Jim: Let's go before the lady wakes up.
Rick: Lady?

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Unreliable Narrator

  I was on a train to see my parents.  I was nervous because they don't really think much of me. I could not hold a job, a friend, and they said I was off.  Whatever that means.  How am I off, I don't really do anything wierd, I think.  They call me crazy but I don't go around screaming or doing anything else stupid.
   Anyway a bald bearded man boarded the train and sat next to me."Good morning."
   He didn't reply he was looking at his watch.  He didn't even look up.  Could he not hear me.
   He looked forward, but not at me.  All the other passengers were looking at me wierdly, I think.  I laughed hard.  I always do it in times like this for no reason.  Its usually not even funny, I think.  He looked at me seeing everybody else was.
   He saw me laughing and gave me a look of disgust.  "What's your problem?" I said.  He did not answer.  This was getting annoying.  I wanted to slap him.  It was as if he was playing a sick joke on me for his own amusement.  In his disgust I can see him trying to hold in the laughter.  What a jerk.  I can't wait to get off this train and... hey are there candies for sale at the front of the train.  I want some.
   This is when his stupid joke will really be annoying.  "Excuse me."
   He moved I could not believe it. I was going to say something but I forgot.  Too focused on the candy I wanted.  Do I want mints or gummies.  I come back with both tummies and mints since the decision was to difficult.  The man is now on a laptop.
  "Excuse me," I said.  No response of course.  "Excuse me!?" A lot of people looking my way again, I think.  No response.  What a jerk.  "EXCUSE ME!!!!" he looked up with a look of pain on his face.  He moved.  I could not figure it out. Its like... these gumies are really good.  I like the orange ones most; wait what was I thinking about.  I hate it when I do this.
   Apparently we were halfway there.   Its been an hour and this guy won't budge.  A lady came by with coffee, asks the man if he want train No reply.
   "Don't bother he's being a jerk," I said.  Wow, this guy is mean.  He looks at me while looking out the window.  "What's your problem, are you pretending to not hear us."  No reply.  I can't take it I'm done.  I went to sleep.
   I'm awoken by the jerk.  He was poking me gesturing the train was here, I think.
   I took a taxi to my parents' place.  It was a nice quiet house in with a forest on three sides of it.  At least that's what I remember.  When I got there my parents treated me like I was stupid.  I wasn't.  I don't know why they did.  They made sure to give me directions of where to put the thats when I was done.  I laughed hysterically at this.  Why am I laughing.  This isn't funny.  I got up to go to the bathroom bit walked into the door on the way.  Maybe thats why... no of course not.  Everybody has these moments a the time like me, I think.  When I finally washed my hands I realized I went in the trash. Oops.  Not again.  I did this at the hospital, I think.  I decided to empty the trash into the toilet.  I flushed the toilet and watched the toilet clogg.  Maybe there is an issue... no I'm perfectly normal.  Happens all the time, I think.
   When I leave the bathroom the bathroom my mom talks about her experiences at the school for the deaf she works at.  "I'm expecting a former student tonight," she said.
   Oh great.  They are the worst.  Hopefully he doesn't pretend like the jerk.  I started laughing again.  Why? I don't know.  Just happens.  Even annoys me because I've done it so much today.
   Later tonight, before dinner,  the bell rings.  I walk into the door before I remember to open it.  When I finnaly manage to open it, a bald bearded man is at the door.  "Good evening!" he says in a strange tone.

Friday, September 19, 2014

Short Story (FINAL)

           Farther East than any other kingdom before lie the ruins of a castle greater, richer, and larger than any other, who’s great halls and passages once bright and crowded fall still and dark, whose walls once bright and colorful, now a depressed grey.  The outer walls that were once high and strong now crumbled like the land of fallen stone and wood structures before it. The courtyard of trees and white flowers, now dark and lifeless.  All that remained was one knight whose fault was the castles decay.  He is now far away, without title or name.  All he has is the armor of the kingdom in which he came from and the revenge upon the dark force which took it.  But now in his old age it would be a long, treacherous, and difficult journey to make back to the East.  It took him years to get him where he is now and certainly longer to go back for he has only looked back longer without action.
            With years of thought he put back on the armor which he had not worn since the day the castle fell and sword in hand he mounted his horse and left.  The journey he knew would be long and he had years ahead of him before he sees the stone and fallen marble statue again.  He has been journeying through the thick forest for months without sings of another to talk to, the green leaves and brown trunks getting ever thicker, the eyes of the long legged, harmless animals looking at him through the luscious leaves before slipping away to what seemed safer grasslands to graze upon, the sky getting less visible through the dark green leafy roof,  the wind was the only one speaking to him as it whistled between the trees, and the longer he went the more tired him and the black mount beneath his legs got.  Days seemed like minutes, months like days, and before he realized, if he had been tracking the moon correctly he had departed for one year.  He had been through a vast, dim forest; an empty, endless plain; a fiercely snowy mountain pass; miles of old, tired, dirt roads; tiring, muddy hills, and small, morbid villages recovering from the darkness which over took his kingdom.  Two more years pass by the aged and rugged knight, who now grows weary and hopeless, until the day had come.
He stares at his king, cracked and mossy, remembering the towering marble it once was before the most unfortunate day.  He unmounts and the horse takes its chance at running away in fear for it knew what evil darkness lies inside.  The knight without thought does not see it off but remains focused on the stone ruins crumble below his aching shaky feet.  All that can be heard is his armor as he moves and his barely noticed faint breath as he is astonished seeing what lay before him.  Slowly as he hikes closer to the castle, he finds it harder to breathe as if a poison is in the air.  It is not his imagination either, it is real.  He ambles through the front gate breathing heavily.  But he is starting to hear something, like thousands of men whispering satanic phrases to him at a time.  Through the passages he struggles to breathe.  Suddenly the poison falls and is gone, without a trace.  As he enters the great hall he trembles.

The glare of the knight's armor could not balance out the darkness before him.  He could feel the evil gaze upon him as he ambled over the mossy stone.  The iron grinding against the chain mail shook the halls and golden throne itself.  Iron shuffling across moss and stone shook the surrounding cobble.  Every step boomed like thunder ad every scratch like lighting,

He knew it was the end of his journey and returning home was no longer possible.  He figured if was to go down in flames so would his enemy.  He pulled from his sheath the sword his king had failed his people with.  He remembered how the king succumbed to his injuries before he could defeat the darkness.

  Out of the fire which consumed the towers came the winged darkness.  Its tail like lighting and its roar thunder leaving a black smoke in its path.  He turned in circles with the purest sword in hand.  It was said to be crafted by a god and made for a king.  The dragon would be reincarnated by the flames to be consumed again.  The fire was spreading to the top of the central tower where he stood.  The beast surfaced to swipe its tail at him but missed.  The king swung and swung but always fell short.  Fatigued, the king gave in and dropped the sword.  Falling to the ashes the sword gleamed and disappeared.  The king was struck in the chest by the tail and the tower fell never to be seen or buried.  But never forgotten.

The darkness took its infamous form and clawed its way to the knight.  With little hesitation, he walked toward his life-long foe.  The dragon snapped at him, missing each time.    At last, the dragon opened its mouth to spit out flames, but the knight felt the presence of his family he lost years ago, and with only thoughts of them drove the sword through the black skull.  Like his family, he was burned to ashes.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014


   Usually nothing really bothers me, but when when something is uneven or the volume of a computer or television is on an odd number or something is not straight I go nuts.  People think it is funny that it bothers me while I see them as wierd for not seeing it my way.  They also think it is funny to watch me go nuts over the odd numbers.  Even if I am not watching the television, it annoys me to know it is not on an even volume.  I cannot think about anything but that number and sometimes it even makes me pull out my own hair.  I will bang the table, kick the wall, anything to get my mind off the number.

  My brother annoys me the most about it.

   Shouldn't you be doing your homework?
  Shouldn't you be getting a job?

  This shouldn't bother you?

  It wouldn't if you were watching it in your own house.

  Of course I only speak this way to him when he purposely changes the volume.  I do not really mean what I say to him but I was just driven insane by him annoying and taunting me.  I get even more infuriated when he talks to my parents about the issue.

   He really needs to get over this.

   I run down the stairs from my room.  Maybe you should be considerate.  Does it really inconvenience you that much to just put the volume on an even number.  It's just one number.

  Exactly, it's just one number. Whats the deal?  Go do your homework.

  Go step on a Lego.  Wow that was pretty rough.  That was the worst thing yet.  I cannot believe I just said that.  If everybody had their personal hell I'm pretty sure Lego brick filled floors would be one of them.  Those fun toys are nasty things to stepever with socks.  Its as if the have razorblades stick out when they scence their next victim.

   Aside from that, I get so mad I cannot even talk so I run up the stairs stomping like a child.  Ugh!

  If I were to walk down the stairs and see the couch crooked I would straighten it even if somebody was sitting in it. I would adjust it on one side then to make it even adjust it on the same way hands in the exact same position.  In my room, its a disaster.  I have to put the keyboard and mouse correctly aligned, make sure everything is straight, and and check to see if the disk in my PlayStation 3 is straight.  Of course my brother does not understand so he does not straighten it when he is done which bothers me.

   Overall, the most annoying thing is when I fix something and somebody deliberately messes it up.  This makes me just want to scream everything about them that disappoints me like George Costansa's Festivus from Seinfield.  Of course, it's Brandon who does this the most.  He thinks it helps me, or he says he does...  he probably does not.

   I think you should go to a psychiatrist for this because it has to stop.

   I think you should get your drivers license so you can drive me.

  I only use this tactic because it is sure to get him so mad to stop annoying me about me being annoying.  But it is not really me, it is all the odd numbers, unstraightened objects, and chairs not pushed in all the way.

Wednesday, September 10, 2014


  In the year 3000, the humans decided they needed more air to breathe in there new colony.  The finest platoon of all was sent on the mission. As they left their home they looked at the purple surface of their new home they remembered from stories the one they are now heading to. The green of trees and blue of the oceans.  Nobody alive has seen it now but they knew it lay in pieces held close by gravity.
  The journey would take two months if it weren't for the attackers they came across.  Some other life forms seemed to have taken control of their old home.       They could not believe it.  As admiral Bill slowly and cautiously crept through the minefield of enemy dreadnaughts.
  People back at the new colony had expected the worst after four months went by. Their families greived and leaders feared for the air supply.  They had lost contact with Bill and his platoon due to the enemy sattelites.  However Bill had bigger issues; the air in the emergency tanks was low.  Thankfully, they could now see their destination.  It was not blue and green, but grey from ash and smoke.  It lay in three chunks with a mile if space between each other.  Bill landed the ship and used the tracker too find the real target.  After two hours the lost hope. It was gone. Probably dead for centuries.
  That was when they saw it.  The last one. They stared up the dark brown trunk.  The leaves so green they could not believe it.  They have never seen one in their life.  They were appauled.  They carefully uprooted it making sure to not harm its roots.
   As they loaded it into the ship they saw enemy spacecrafts coming at them.  "To your stations quick!"  Anounced Bill when they got out of the atmosphere they did the most risky action imaginable.  They turned the thrusters on while in an asteroid belt gaurded by the enemy.
   Two months later they arrived at the colony. They were honored by the colony's governors.  By year 3900, the colony was full of trees thanks to Bill.