Tuesday, October 12, 2010


There was a chicken who ate all it could--it ate mainly Harry Potter books and Edgar Allen Poe poems because it was pro like that. His name was Sam.I.Am, as opposed to Will.I.Am, whom he considered a golden cheetoh.

Sam once crossed the interstate bypass route and was promptly run over by Chuck Norris in a SmartCar. It was the once instance where a SmartCar crash 1)did not destroy the SmartCar and 2)did not kill the driver. Chuck Norris jumped out of the vehicle and wept over the bloody and horribly mangled body for five minutes--when he punched it with the fist hiding underneath his beard. He then round-house kicked the body halfway to Timbuktu, where starving rodents ate its remains.

A mouse who happened to eat this carcass suddenly gained awesome Chuck Norris powers, grew larger and more anthropomorphic with washboard abs, and began riding motorcycles and looking cool for a living. It beat up Stephenie Meyer for no reason at all (other than the idea that it was a horrible author and should not be allowed a computer to type on, more or less pen and paper, but then again, this was an idea, a mere passing thought, a notion, rather than a stewed belief it had harbored for years). And then it died after shaking hands with Bo Burnham. The End.

Saturday, September 11, 2010


A piece of a story written in my journal that I enjoy because of the emotional response it gets out of me. Supposed to be for that Mirror's Edge-like comic I wanna write. 8D

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Each window she tried, Zephyr was promptly shunned by a swiftly sliding metal cover. Her heart raced. How would she get out? Even the door was being covered, and it was a long way back up to the vent she had just fallen though. She spun and stared wide-eyes at the man at the desk, and suddenly she could feel every heartbeat shaking ever fiber of her being.

The man was calm, almost too sure of himself. He stood from the large leather chair and began to walk around the desk, a similarly intimidating size. Slowly, he stepped, and talked as he did.

"You," he said, his voice no longer rich and inviting but devilishly charming with an ominous underlying tone, "heard all that, didn't you?"

Suddenly, Zephyr lost her ability to lie but also the ability to speak. She nodded her head, eyes wide as saucers.

The man nodded back, looking down at his feet, slowly, ever slowly stepping towards her now. "You weren't supposed to hear it," he said. Suddenly, a hand from his pocket reached across his chest, under the fine black jacket, over the scarlet tie, and retreated with a polished ebon-colored pistol. Finding her feet, Zephyr moved backwards, eyes on the man and the pistol hanging loosely from his hand.

"That means, well," he lifted the gun, barrel pointing at the ceiling, as if pointing it out if she hadn't already noticed it, "you know what this is, and what it does, and what I intend to do with it, right?"

Zephyr nodded again. Her back came in contact with the wall and she glanced back at it, almost snapping out of her trance state. But her eyes were still fixed on the man looming over her now. his handsome face had a certain coldness to it, like a beautiful ice sculpture. His similarly icy-blue eyes bore into her own warm brown ones, scouring her mind, instilling fear there.

"But first," he said, and put the gun-hand against the wall next to her head, "I suppose, since its just you and me, we should have a little bit of fun."

Fun? Zephyr was confused. Was there a morbid edition of fun he had in his mind? But her heart nearly stopped when he used his body to push her closer to the wall and she realized what he meant. Hard muscle nearly squeezed the breath out of her. She clawed at the wall behind her, searching for something, anything.

Suddenly, the man's shoulder punted forward as an earsplitting boom rang out. The look in his eyes, once the epitome of calm and confident, changed to pure animal fury. He swerved around and Zephyr could see a figure a few meters before her, with electric-blue hair as its dominant feature.

"Nihilus..." Zephyr whispered, and realized that never before had she been so relieved to see him. In his hand he held a pistol, faintly shaking from Nihilus' sweaty and nervous palms.

"Get away from her," Nihilus commanded, gripping the pistol with both hands.

The man's face changed again, to the composed mask he had before being shot.
"What now?" he queried, "Are you going to shoot me?"

Nihilus cocked the hammer. The man only chuckled and continued.

"Oh, little boy, you have no idea who you're dealing with, do you?" The man dropped the gun and put his hands in his pockets, walking towards Nihilus. "If you're a man, you should pull the trigger and kill me. Save your little girlfriend. Be the hero for once."

Suddenly, Nihilus pointed the gun downwards and pulled the trigger. The man fell to the ground, clutching his knee, anguished cries escaping his lips, teeth grinding against each other with excruciating force. Nihilus only stepped around him and ran for the button on the desk. He smacked a palm on it. The sheet metal lifted from the windows. He ran back to Zephyr and grabbed her arm.

"Come on!" he shouted, and pulled her in the direction of the windows. He shot the window and discarded the pistol, throwing it against the already-shattered glass as insurance against its breachability. The gun flew through without much resistance. Zephyr almost hesitated as they approached, but when she saw helicopter blades rising up before the windows, she ran at full speed.
As predicted, the glass came apart as if it were nothing. Nihilus and Zephyr jumped, stretching for the bottom-most bar on the helicopter.

Zephyr felt as if all time suspended, and there was nothing but the helicopter, herself, and the blue sky above.

Then, with sudden force, her hands came in contact with the bar and she snapped back into reality. She clung for dear life, gripping the bar with all her might as her legs swung back and forth, adjusting to the change in inertia, coaxing her to let go. A hand appeared before her, and Zephyr looked up. Azrael's grave face came into view. Zephyr could have cried. She took his hand and was promptly lifted into the cabin of the vehicle. She looked around.

Behind her the tall skyscraper grew small, moving away into the horizon, camouflaging among the other buildings with their white sides and silvery glass windows. Beside her, Nihilus clung to Shanti, who had just pulled him up. Michael and Decimus sat on the far side of the cabin, looking like the most dog-tired men on the earth.
Azrael squeezed her arm, demanding her attention. When she looked at him, she noticed the expression in his eyes was remorseful.
"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Azrael asked. She shook her head, and he gathered her into a tight embrace. "Thank God... I'm so sorry I couldn't be there. I heard it all. Oh, Zeph, at least he didn't..." He squeezed her harder for a moment, then let her go to look at her face. There were tears in his crystal eyes. "If there's anything you need, just tell me. I'll be here for you."
Zephyr stared dumbly into his eyes, then said, "That man... he was so handsome and beautiful, but... there was something about him.... like, he's not human." She envisioned the look in his eyes and the force of his body on hers, and she shuddered. Her stomach coiled into knots and Zephyr truly thought she was going to vomit.
Azrael pulled her close again and Zephyr curled into him, trying to forget everything that had happened in the last ten minutes.
"I want to go home," Zephyr muttered into his chest.
"Not now. We still need to go to Providence." Azrael paused, then said in a grave tone, "If Edwards' men don't get us first."
Zephyr looked up into his face, confusion written on hers. What did he mean? He stared off into the distance, and Zephyr followed his gaze.
Two more helicopters followed them. These things were different, though. On each side they carried a huge barrel, and one smaller but still menacing-looking barrel sat below. Zephyr realized what they were--military-issue assault helicopters, and they were hunting the defenseless vehicle Zephyr sat in now.
A sudden movement made Zephyr look up at Azrael, and his head was now facing in Michael's direction. Michael nodded, and he turned to the pilot.
"Get us closer to the rooftops. We're going to have to run."
The pilot nodded and the copter dived. To Zephyr, it seemed like hours before they were close enough to the rooftops to leap out.
After everyone dismounted, the pilot took off. One copter followed it while the other went straight for them.
"Go! Go!" Shanti shouted, pushing Zephyr forward. As a group, they ran, but as runners, they knew the golden rule by heart: divided we stand, united we fall.
"Split up!" Michael commanded, "He can't follow all of us!" He looked over at the three teens. "Take the east route. We'll go north."
Swiftly, the three took a right turn and left the adults to their northern fate.
The teens leaped off the building and tumbled to the next. Zephyr chanced glancing back and saw that the copter no longer chased them. Instead, it dropped off a pair of pursuit cops and continued on its way, towards the adults.
Fear gripped Zephyr's heart once more. Pursuit cops were ten times deadlier than any assault helicopter. Trained in the ways of Parkour, they could follow Traceurs and Traceuses anywhere, unlike regular cop or even the trained eye of a sniper. She turned back to the boys ahead of her.
"Company!" she shouted, and they glanced back as well. Their eyes widened as well and did exactly what Zephyr did at that moment; ran faster.
Zephyr searched for any sort of turn or hiding place that they could find refuge in. Nihilus caught it first. "Come on!" he shouted, and turned left, towards an open door that led into a building. Azrael, the last one in, closed the door behind them and made sure to lock it. Quickly, the three made their way down the stairs and collapsed a couple flights down, keeping a good distance away from any door. There, they collected themselves and took a short breather.
"We can't stay here," Nihilus said in between breaths.
"Then where do we go?" Zephyr asked, glancing at both boys. "We belong on the rooftops. They're not safe anymore."
"The streets are always an option," Azrael offered, "I don't think the cops will be at the bottom floor of this building by the time we get there."
Each teen glanced at the other. There really was no other option. "Streets it is," Zephyr said, as if finalizing the group's decision. "But first, a break." She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, soaking up as much oxygen into her system as possible. Her mind immediately went back to the man in the suit. She jerked, as if reacting to being hit, her fists clenching. The look in his eyes, the way he spoke... there was something otherworldly about him. Inhuman. Evil.
"You okay?" Azrael asked. Zephyr opened her eyes to glance at him. His eyes were worried.
"Not sure..." she said, and tried to rest again, but the image of the man invaded her mind. "I just... that man..." She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling of concrete stairs. What about him? She sat up and looked at Nihilus. "Thank you, Nihilus, for saving me."
Nihilus glanced away, but met her gaze again. "Uh, you're welcome."
Zephyr smiled at him, but powerful emotion began to overflow in her heart. She couldn't contain it. In a flash, her arms were around the blue-haired teen, gripping him tightly with all her strength. Tears began to fill her eyes.
"Nihilus," she began, her voice cracking, "Thank you so much. I don't know what would have happened if you didn't come... I don't know..." In reality, Zephyr did know what would have happened--but she didn't want to think about it.
For now, they needed to get back to Providence.

Saturday, August 21, 2010


There is a dark place I know
Which I like to always go
To get away from rain and snow
Where all my crap is safely stowed
One two three four left right up
I can never seem to cheat enough
The cops will get me for this stuff
Until then I'll hide in the fluff

Converse or Vans is the decision
Both seem to alter my vision
So quietly I make an incision
On your heart to stop it's beatin'
How far can you jump on the swing?
I pride myself in better things
Like making crappy lunch to bring
and on your strings I will cling

I want chocolate and vanilla
Swirled together, intermingled
I eat with you a day and forever
I don't think I'll ever love another
I play blackjack in fake vegas
So I don't lose money to the haters
I like to hang out with the skaters
I invite them home for mashed potaters

Friday, August 6, 2010


Passionate orange mirrors your eyes, o lonely one

You have journeyed long and far, but where do you go?

Is it time to find a new family?

Is it time to find a new home?

Black and blue mirrors your heart, o wandering one

You have lived long and prosperous, but what do you know?

Can you see the children dying in these parts?

Can you hear the cold wind blow?

The shadowy clouds mirror your love, o king of beasts

You have seen skies like this, but were you alone?

Did you run from those who hate you?

Did you read the words on their gravestones?

The dry earth mirrors your life, o keeper of the east

You have walked roads like this, but did you bow?

Would you hold this weapon of mass destruction?

Would you dare sit upon Satan's toe?

And although you are but a beast

And I am but of man

We see alike, in different ways

Only I know how my tears taste

Tuesday, August 3, 2010


Music: Title and Registration by Death Cab for Cutie

A slender hand pointed upwards, towards the black wall glittering with tiny lights.

"You see that?"

Dan turned his head to face her. "What?"

"That constellation." She glanced over at him before trying to map it out with her hands. "That long stretch of stars there. Do you recognise it?"

"I don't see it, Hikari, what are you talking about?"

"You seriously don't see that, Dan?" Shun asked, glancing over at his friend. "It's right there."

"Come on, you guys!" Dan complained. "What am I looking for?"

"Okay," Hikari began, pointing to another part of the sky, "Do you see the Big Dipper?"

Dan concentrated for a while before replying, "Yeah, I see it."

"Okay, look down and you'll see a cluster of stars that crawls up to the right a little bit." She drew the line in the air in hopes that he would see and understand. "The Big Dipper is actually Ursa Major, if that helps any..."

A minute of silence passed. "I still don't get it," he said. "I see it, but what is it?"

"It's the constellation Draco," Hikari said thoughtfully, as if it should mean something to Dan. "It's hard to spot sometimes, because it's so long it looks like it blends with other stars but it doesn't, not in Draco.."

Puzzled, Dan turned to his small red spherical friend. "How does that star look anything like Drago?"

"Not Drago!" Runo exclaimed. "Didn't you hear right? Draco. It's different."

"But it sounds the same..."

Hikari rolled her eyes and Runo smacked the boy in the back of the head. While the two bickered, Drago floated over to Hikari.

"I don't see it either," the bakugan admitted.

Hikari shrugged. "No worries, Drago. Just look at it and think of it as more of a snake with a dragon head. That should clear things up."

Drago peered at the sky once more. "Ah, I do see it. It's not like me at all. Why is it called Draco?"

"The people who looked up at the stars and decided to name them thought this one looked like a dragon--or what they thought was a dragon at the time. Not all dragons are the same."

The little white and yellow ball next to Hikari's head popped open and spoke up. "Like not all humans are the same? Or bakugan?"

Hikari nodded. "Exactly." Her phone in her pocket buzzed. Hikari pulled it out and read the message from her mother--dinner time.

Looking back at the still-fighting Dan and Runo, Hikari decided it was time to end this. "Okay, you two, either get a room or come down for dinner." With that, she scooted off the edge of the rooftops, her partner Wapiti clutching to her shoulder, and strolled inside.

Sunday, August 1, 2010


I see myself in a world in the past.

It's a birthday party for my best friend at another friend's house. He has a pool. We all swim in it, except for me. I didn't bring my swimsuit, and I just got out of surgery. I can't swim in bacteria-infested pool water. You would think that I would be home resting after heart surgery, but I feel fine. I want to go to my friend's house. Besides, I had been hospitalized for weeks. I want to be somewhere.

There's music blasting out of an old radio. Some of it's good. Some of it's crappy new age stuff. Some of the new age stuff is danceable to. But I don't dance, because I'd be the only one with goofy moves.

Later, a couple of my friends go into a sort of laundry room type building and come out minutes later with a cupful of kool-aid. The birthday girl fills little red dixie cups and passes them out to people in the pool. They all pass around the cups, some cringing.

I can't believe my eyes. I want to go home. They're not twenty-one yet, not a one of them. I see one of my classmates sipping from the cup. I'm sure he'll get expelled.

I can't stand it and decide to go inside. The AC is broken but it's survivable in the living room, where a ton of fans are blowing air around. I sit and wait. The dogs who live here visit me every so often. I think they can feel my anguish. I lay down and go to sleep. Nobody bothers me, except for the dogs who come and sniff. I wonder if they think I'm dead.

I wake up later. I don't know how long I was sleeping or what time it is. Bleary-eyed, groggy, and a bit delirious, I walk to the backdoor. Someone comlplains that there's red liquid on the floor.

"Maybe I peed there," I said.

"Then it would be yellow."

"Maybe it's my red pee."

They stare at me as if I'm growing tails out of my eyes. "Okay, first of all, that's just gross, secondly..." I don't remember what was said after that. I turn around. Another one of my best friends came in, toting people I don't know but they are friends.

"Hi, honey, how was work?" I said.

"Good, good."

More antics around the pool. I don't feel like participating. I hang out in the living room. A friend comes in and turns the TV on. We watch Family Guy. There was a part when Peter denies the handicapped access to his food and he ends up handicapped himself "for forty-five minutes" and apologizes. If you think about it, he's already handicapped because he's retarded, I think to myself.

Later, more friends and non-friends gather at the door. They want to go walking around the neighborhood, like going to the park. I want to get out of this house and do something fun that doesn't involve water, so I'm like, "I wanna go too!"

But my friends are all standing around, speaking in low voices. I hate that. "Why do you have to speak in small voices? What is so secretive that we can't tell anyone else?" I tell them. I'm so fucking sick of it I want to puke. My best friend pulls me aside. The moment of truth.

"We're going to go out smoking, okay? Guys, just stay here, okay?"

NO, NOT OKAY, I want to say, but I just fold my arms, look away and sigh, obviously unhappy. It's dark in this room. The only light comes from the TV. I see it casting dark shadows on his face. He's pleading me. Why can't I say no to him?

"Fine," I tell him, but I really want to say, "No, don't go! Please! Stay with me! Watch movies with me! Forget about getting high!" I consider getting on my knees while pleading. But I just watch them all walk away down the street, anguished. Tears form in my eyes and I wonder when we suddenly became part of the norm.

Didn't we pride ourselves on being different from other people? Isn't that why we listened to oldies instead of that Miley Cyrus bullshit? Isn't that why we dressed like we just didn't give a flying fuck? I watch them walk away and become the people they never wanted to be. I go inside and watch I Love You, Beth Cooper.

It kind of reflects my feelings at the time. They're not who I thought they were. I thought they were unique--one of a kind people who were like diamonds in a haystack. I didn't want haystalk people for friends. I want the needles that are hard to find. I'm in the room with those people--three others out of the twelve or so that used to be here. A few others left before they went out smoking, so only five or so are those people that I wish I could keep with me.

After a few minutes, the door opens and in walks those who walked out on us. They avoid us. I go to the kitchen to see the birthday girl picking at the remains of the birthday cake. She looks like hell.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

She doesn't answer. I wait. She pushes past me and goes to the backyard, where all the others on the walk have gathered.

I go back to the living room and I want to cry. Is she so messed up that she doesn't recognise me? Above me, the fan light flickers. It's positioned in such a way that the light hits the fan and flickers like a nightmare light setting. I tell my friend so. He agrees that it does look a little creepy.

Later, the birthday girl comes in and sits on a chair behind one of the couches. The look on her face is unreadable, but she still looks like she was dragged by the hair through hell and back. Soon, my mother calls me and says that its time to go home, and she's outside in the driveway. Before I go, I give everyone I know a hug because I know I won't be seeing them for a long time--they're all going to college, and I'm staying behind in high school.

The birthday girl won't let go. She's crying. "I'm sorry guys..." she says, but I don't know why. I want to cry but if my mother saw the tears in my eyes, she would ask why and I would tell and nobody would ever be my friend ever again.

Only days later did she call me and tell me she was sorry because she felt like she had abandoned us on her birthday. Instead of saying "Oh, it's okay..." I said, "I accept your apology," because it wasn't okay. She and my other friends had abandoned us and just about broken my heart. Which is shit because I just got it fixed. Now I have to go in again.

Saturday, July 31, 2010


Written for a site as a backstory to their plot. READ IT KIDDIES AND ENJOY.

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“Doctor Hessler! Doctor Hessler, wait!” cried the out-of-breath assistant. She had learned on the first day of her job to wear sneakers or other comfortable shoes at work—chasing around her superior became a routine part of her job. As much as she cried out, day after day, for Doctor Gordon Jeremy Hessler to wait for her after she had gotten stuck behind a stampede of reporters, absentmindedly kept her eye off of him, or nearly ran over another staff member, the man would not comply. “Doctor Hessler! Where are you going?” Quickly, the young assistant nearly leaped over a stack of mail and used the momentum to carry herself closer to the man. For being well in his forties, he moved like an Olympic runner.

“I need to see the President,” said the doctor, not even pausing to turn his head to the woman, “Get me his secretary. Tell her I can’t hold, this can’t wait for another time.” With that, he sharply turned into a hallway, and the assistant turned with him.

“The President?” she asked, eyes growing wide. What is going on? she thought, and made a note on her clipboard. “If she asks the occasion, what do I tell her?”

“Tell her,” Dr. Hessler growled, “That it involves the fate of the human race.”

The assistant slowed her steps. Has he finally gone senile? she questioned, then sped up to meet shoulder-to-shoulder with him. “Excuse me? The fate of the human race—what?”

The Doctor sighed and finally stopped in his tracks, startling the assistant nearly running to keep up with his long stride. She took a couple paces back to meet with him face to face. He rubbed his temples before finally telling her, “I know, I sound crazy, but it’s really urgent. Just… please, do it. Of all the crazy shit I make you put up with, please do this for me Krystle.”

Stunned, Krystle gaped and stared at his back as he walked away. He finally said please! What now, were pigs going to grow wings and fly off? Was the dispute between Coke and Pepsi over? She shook these ridiculous thoughts from her mind and made the long trek to her office.

---------- ---------- ----------

Krystle paused, one hand on the receiver, other twirling the phone cord around her finger. “That’s what I said!” she exclaimed. Another pause, shorter. “No! Nononono! Please, don’t hang up! I’m serious, please! Just, please, can you tell him that it’s very urgent, and… look, Dr. Hessler is an intelligent man. He doesn’t fool around like this. I know him best—I bend over backwards for the man. He even said please! He never says please! Just please, please, tell him it’s urgent, and we’ll be over there right away.” Krystle gripped the receiver tighter, hoping, wishing, praying. After a moment, she smiled and balled her hand in the cords into a fist, shooting the fist high into the air. Trying her best not to sound too excited, she replied, “Thank you so much. You have no idea how grateful I am, really.” Another pause. “Okay. Thank you. Goodbye.” She pushed the receiver into its place and untangled her hand in the cord. She had to tell Gordon.

As usual, he was in his office, staring blankly into his multiple computer screens. “I just called the secretary’s office. She said she would tell the President, but…”

Dr. Hessler looked up, his expression gruff as his eyes bored into Krystle. “But what? What?! Tell me, for God’s sake, don’t hide it.”

“It’s his son’s birthday today. He won’t miss it for the world.”

Groaning, Dr. Hessler looked back to his screens. “Oh well. We’ll crash the party and show him these scans. Of course, he’s no rocket scientist, so we’ll have to explain what they mean.”

Krystle raised a brow. “We?”

Unmoving, Gordon looked up at her. “Yes, Miss Krystle Frost, we, are going to convince the President that the human race will be wiped out unless we act now.” He looked back to the screen, clicked harshly on the mouse, and stood. “Come on. I’ve booked a flight for us.” He turned to his printer to pull out sheets of paper, hot and fresh with ink.

“Now? But… That’s in D.C.! We can’t just go to D.C.! I have a dog! She needs to be fed and taken care of and—“

“Then ask your roommate or mom or whoever to take care of her. We have to go.” He turned to Krystle, connecting gazes with her. “Frankly, the human race is more important than Fido.”

Krystle’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t just leave her dog behind! But then again, he was right—humans had a priority over animals. Slowly, sadly, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed her brother’s number.