My Leaving
|
Posted:Sep 21, 2009 6:49 pm
Last Updated:Feb 3, 2010 12:39 am
7126 Views
|
i have officially decided to leave AsianMatchMate.com to pursue my relationship and my engagement to a wonderful woman that has totally captured my heart. so good luck to everyone in all that you do and i will miss you all
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
about my blog
|
Posted:May 15, 2008 5:47 pm
Last Updated:Feb 1, 2011 1:21 am
6974 Views
|
well i have decided that my blog is not going to be like a lot of the others on here and talk about my fantasy or sex i will talk about some things. like my last post passion. But that is about all that i would write about at this time i want to be different i don't follow the pack. so if there is anything you would like to hear me talk about or for me to give my opinion on feel free to tell me.
also not going to to my cyber sex down or fantasy for the simple reason how am i suppose to surprise you with it in person if there is ever a chance we would meet it is kills the mood if you already read what i like to do on here
|
|
|
1
comment
|
|
guess who is back
|
Posted:Apr 27, 2009 12:48 am
Last Updated:Feb 1, 2011 1:22 am
7005 Views
|
well i am happy to announce that i have decide on turning my profile back on and not deleting my profile. just cause a few fucking assholes that like to tell fucking lies about people. there is no sense in making my friends suffer cause of a few. so to my friends i am back and love ya all and to my haters fuck you and i will make your life a living hell and you can take that to the fucking bank
|
|
|
2
Comments
|
|
ok need some helpful advice
|
Posted:Jan 23, 2009 8:33 pm
Last Updated:Apr 5, 2009 11:39 pm
7617 Views
|
for those of you that follows my blog. I need some feedback would you like to see it as just my writing or would you like for me to add some random stuff and thoughts of the day stuff like that. so please give me your thoughts and ideals on what you like to see more of. also need thoughts on new stories too tell me what you like to see. i will take all thoughts and ideals and run with them thanks
|
|
|
3
Comments
|
|
When Everything Fades to Black...
|
Posted:Jun 17, 2009 11:45 pm
Last Updated:Apr 16, 2024 6:44 am
6716 Views
|
[/BTryst Redgrave has a gift. She can't talk about it. She hasn't seen it at it's full potential. But with it, she can sense what's coming.
When Everything Fades to Black...
Chapter One: Intrinsic Mediums
Like every parent, Tryst’s mother only wanted the best for her three . The finest schooling, the most coveted accessories, expensive clothes, and anything else their hearts desired. Never, ever in her life did Torrance Redgrave want her to be deprived of something as mundane as sleep. "The privileged have the right to every luxury." Torrance would always quote, proudly.
As she watched her youngest growing up, Torrance was deeply pained. To hear a crying every night was gut wrenching. Even as Tryst got older, she’d wake up screaming. Her nightmares so horrible, she was afraid to be alone. From ages six through ten, Torrance insisted Tryst stay in her and Tryst‘s father’s room. But, Torrance admitted to no one that when her spoke to the shadows in the room, it scared Torrance shitless. Beyond a doubt, it wasn’t that Mrs. Redgrave didn’t believe her father in-law, her husband, or her . Who all attested to having similar predicaments. She just didn’t want it leaking out of the family.
Mrs. Redgrave’s elitist friends and colleagues would shun her, had her family not lived up to the status quo. The group had competitively high standards for one another. Her husband, Jonathan Redgrave would joke that being friends with them was "more taxing, than relaxing." God forbid they spare their parental affections, because of Torrance’s bitchy friends.
Help came to Tryst at thirteen. Her mother hired the best shrink money could buy. Doctor Reuben Ezra. He was Salem’s most beloved psychiatrists. His approaches were sincere. Guiding the ’s behavioral complications out the door indefinitely. Tryst, however, was his special case. Her imagination was an enigma. He would reread his notes on their family history, the girl‘s nightmares, the names she called some of the shadows. Evaluating her as "fascinating" to say the least. Tryst’s conviction of things seen and heard were so believable, that at times, Doctor Ezra found himself inadvertently questioning reality. In the three years he had been picking Tryst’s brain apart, he and Torrance Redgrave were in a conundrum. Call them extremists, they didn’t care. There was only one way to solve the ’s "night terrors". They both agreed, sleeping pills were her best option.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
No matter the dosage of Tryst’s addictive pill, her mother so irresponsibly consented to, the whispers always woke her. Tryst’s brother, Javan found humor in his sister’s accounts. Joking that the girl could be woken with the drop of a pin. Therefore, her judgments were always the soundest to go upon. Howbeit, Tryst’s gift was no joking matter. It was a family curse. "No one could ever understand what we few go through." Tryst’s grandfather would insist. Being opened to anyone who would listen. "Only those few with the sight…know." Indeed, his foreboding emphasis resonated in Tryst‘s mind, as clear as the day he said it. The sage was right. Those closed off to the otherworld were the walking blind. But worst off. For there were things skulking through the human world, that it’s inhabitants could never dream of. Making them invariable, unknown victims wicked predators. No matter how whimsical they appeared in fairy tales.
Streets away, Tryst could sense them. Even with her eyes closed and her hearing impaired. Her sixth sense grasped every dark being that existed in the town of Salem. From as early as Tryst could remember, she could feel the voices tracing through the air. She compared them to a swarm of locus disguised as animated music notes. The sounds sent a chill through her. She could do little about the cold sweat that followed, as the refrains landed at her window sill.
The Redgrave family had lived at three story, foursquare, Victorian inspired home for generations. But it was only recently, that the ‘things’ outside knew that Tryst was there. The thick walls were no longer as safe as they once were. Now that ‘they’ could sense her, sensing them. The only way the beings could reach her were through shadows. As spring exploded in full force, the ’things’ came in hordes. Setting in her town, as the newly blossomed foliage seemed to energize them.
The bolder encounters started on the first of April. Tryst took it as a joke, at first. Hoping that it was just her nefarious friends, playing a prank on her. When the "April fools!" never came, she began to truly worry. Those very shadows she swore were just a trick, beckoned her to come to them. Urging her to give in to her curious whims. On Sunday, ’they’ mused, ‘What harm could a peek do?’ Tuesday, ‘they‘ innocently pushed, ‘Come to the window and see.’ More enticing still was the next Saturday‘s allurement, ‘Such haunting songs, aren’t you curious who sings them?‘
Even in her deepest sleep, Tryst was always haunted by the-things-that-went bump-in-the-night. Should this evening have been any different? Tryst didn’t think so. Especially on school nights, the sixteen year old would take extra precautions. She’d put her headphones in, turn the volume of her iPod up as high as her eardrums could take, and hope the night would fly by quick. Tonight, night she could not hear the shadows pray to her.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
blood vision
|
Posted:May 12, 2009 4:43 pm
Last Updated:Feb 1, 2011 1:23 am
6860 Views
|
Not all people have visions. Not all visions come true. So what made this one so special?
I was driving home after a long day at work. I was about to collapse and snooze right there at the wheel but at last I got home. I looked at my watch, it was almost 9:00 on January the 22nd and the lights were all off.
I walked through the door and suddenly felt a chill that rang down my spine. I thought it was just an open window. I walked into the house. No lights were on although my wife was supposed to be home. I just thought that she must have been sleeping. I went into the kitchen and the aroma of my wife�s famous cooking hit me, it was incredible.
I then walked upstairs. I heard me snoring soundly in his small bedroom with a book stuck under his head. I smiled; he had been reading himself to sleep again. I gently lifted his head and removed the book. I then placed his head down and walked over to the master bedroom.
I walked in and was shocked to see what I find. My wife�s head hanging over the side of the bed her throat slashed and blood all over the floor. I immediately ran over to her, but she was dead. Tears streamed down my face and I just sat there crying to myself. I looked around to see if any evidence could be found. Reflected in the mirror I see the calendar that we hanged opposite to the bed. The date identifier, a small red square that moves to highlight the current date, was over the July the 24th.
The next morning I woke up in my car. I was in my drive way. I don�t know how I got here nor do I know what happened last night meant. Was it a vision or just a night mare? Either way I don�t plan on finding out. That night I immediately posted our house up for sail and bought us a new house quite far away.
Our house sold within days. But I knew it was my responsibility to warn the new neighbors of what I saw. I told them that this house is evil and that something supernatural was going to happen to the residents on the night of July 24th. They only ignored me and laughed. Sadly that�s all I could do. I got into the car and drove me and my family to our new house.
For a whole year I was glued to the TV and newspapers seeing if there was any news about a murder in that house. A whole year past and nothing happened. I laughed at myself thinking that it was actually a vision and that somebody was actually going to die. I relaxed and was finally able to get back to my life. I stopped reading the newspaper and went back to being a sports fan. I was totally relieved.
It was my who first brought it to my attention. On the morning of July 25th, 1 year after the supposed date of the tragic death that was suppose to occur in that haunted house, a special newspaper came out. It seems that the couple that bought the house a year ago went out on vacation. They left the house at the hands of a hot housekeeper. When they returned they found the housekeeper dead on the bed, with her head hanging off the side. Her throat was slit. Forensics confirmed that she died the night of July 24th.
I was shocked when I heard the news. I knew that what I experienced that night wasn�t just a nightmare but a real vision. I could not believe I actually let something like that occurred. The only thing that I found strange was the fact that, how come I had a vision envisioning the murder more than 1 year before it happens, but also who did it.
I read the paper the next day. It said that no matter how hard the police searched they could not find a single shred of evidence that could convict someone. Horrified I put down the paper. I then got ready for work. I yawned; guess I didn�t get much sleep last night.
*Hey when did I drive all those extra miles?
 |
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
what fucking idiots
|
Posted:Apr 8, 2009 3:17 pm
Last Updated:Feb 1, 2011 1:24 am
7033 Views
|
Hey! What do they call an idiot who yells stupid things out of a moving vehicle to a pedestrian walking out on the street? Is there a formal name for it? P.S. I despise people who do this! I mean, why can't people like this get a life, keep their heads inside of the car window and show some common sense. Geez!
cause I was out for a nice drive in the convertible this last weekend. I was shocked at how many people was doing this.
|
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
blood ghost
|
Posted:Apr 8, 2009 2:36 pm
Last Updated:Apr 8, 2009 9:50 pm
7049 Views
|
If you can't judge a book by it's cover can you judge a man?
Night of the Blood Moon.
On an early evening in the small urban town of Makon, a small boy was out walking home after a night out with his mom. A strange man walked up to him. The man wore a black shirt, with a white tie. He had white hair although only seeming to be in his 30s. He wore expensive designer pants and sunglasses. This man walked by the with an eerie presence which scared the . The looked up at the man but he didn�t notice. The man continued walking past the parents, but strangely enough they noticed nothing.
That night a fierce storm was cast over the city. While the young boy was asleep in his small room on the end off the hall the wind blew outside. Then when the clock struck 12 o�clock his windows slammed open. That man that the boy say that evening slowly crawled in through the small window. He was even in the same clothes. The boy woke up with a startle after he heard the window open. He looked around the room, the man was there looking right at him. The boy scared for his life quickly rushed out of the room. The man did not follow. The boy looked back just as he burst into his parent�s bedroom.
His parents were sound asleep not having heard a thing. They were awoken when the boy barged in. The boy told his parents of what he had experienced. Thinking he�d had nothing but a bad dream his mom walked over to his room with him to show him everything�s all right.
When they entered the room everything was quiet again. The man was nowhere to be found and the windows were closed like they were supposed to be. Even the carpet was dry. The mom reassured the boy that it was nothing but a bad dream, and that he should get back to sleep. The boy after calming himself down went to bed again.
The boy finally got to sleep again after 15 minutes of thinking things over. Then he struck again. The boy woke up to the sound of a devilish chuckle. He woke up and looked around the room. There he was again this time he was much closer, as if he had still been walking towards the bed while his parents were there. The window was open too. The boy screamed at the top of his lungs.
His mom sighed after being awoken for the second time that night. The mom walked over to the �s room to see that nothing had changed. The was hiding under the covers murmuring to himself about some sort of monster. His mom stayed with him to calm him down. After 20 minutes the boy had stopped crying and had calmed down enough to go back to sleep. His mom was relieved too. Now they could get to sleep as well.
The boy tried to go back to sleep but as hard as he tried he could not. He laid there in bed turning and turning thinking about what had just happened that night. Then finally at 1 o�clock that night he finally was able to drift back to sleep. But that didn�t last long. Moments after he fell asleep he woke up to the sound of metal clanging. He looked up to the see the man now with a knife in his hand looking right over him.
The man had an eerie look on his face. A blank face that showed absolutely no expression. His eyes were cold and emotionless. He leaned down and a thin evil grin spread across his face. The boy tried to scream but it was two late, the man had already cut his throat. The man then carried the boy out with him through the window. He left but a lock of hair and a pool of blood to mark his work.
The next morning when the mom woke up they went over to the boy�s room to check up on him. She was shocked to find the lock of hair and the blood. She immediately called the police. The police arrived in about half an hour. When nobody answered after they rang the bell several times they barged in. They looked around but found nothing. When they went out searching the backyard they found the mom dead next to the boy with a knife in her hand stabbed right through her heart.
The police questioned the father but he said that his wife always hated the and would always nag him and get mad at him. He also said that he was away on a business trip and just got back this morning. The neighbors confirmed the father�s story. They did notice how the mother hated the and how she always did nag and yell at him.
The police sighed at the news of a murder suicide. Their work was done here. They slowly pulled out of the area leaving the man there.
After they left the father went back into his house. He smirked as he put on black shirt with a white tie, designer pants as well designer sunglasses. He put on a white wig as well as a latex mask. He then walked out of the house, stepped into his car and never came back
 |
|
|
1
comment
|
|
Uh Oh return of the jabberwocky
|
Posted:Apr 8, 2009 1:56 pm
Last Updated:Apr 8, 2009 10:10 pm
6975 Views
|
Caution: This story is not an immediate continuation, and the style and presentation are a little different, with a little more service to story.
Part 2
They were all dead. All of them. But those poor germs didn’t have to die. That was it. Phil was never washing his hands again. That kind of massacre was exactly what he was trying to avoid. But he just couldn’t keep his hands out of the Muck. The mysterious Muck. It seemed so joyful and inviting, until it pulled you in and didn’t let go. But those colors. And the smell. So good…
FWASHUGA! Phil’s nose fell off. He put it back on. Must’ve been the Muck.
Ever since he found the Muck in the toilet he had become possessed by it. He was so mesmerized by the texture and the taste that he was blind to the pain it was causing everyone else. But the Muck wouldn’t let him tell anyone. If Phil started to betray the Muck’s identity his tongue would swell up and turn green. It was like a poison, slowly killing him, keeping him prisoner. He had to rebel, but the Muck was all-knowing. It knew what Phil was thinking and what Phil was going to do. If it sensed that Phil was feeling traitorous it would send out its midget minion, who would ambush people and shove them into the magical closets that swapped their brains to make them think that they were someone else with different thoughts and objectives. Ever since the Muck had found a source from which it could feed, the school had become an evil dungeon from which no one could escape.
And now Phil was sitting in his quarters, listening to the radio.
"I am Bill. Bill the Zookeeper!" said Bill the Zookeeper.
Bill the Zookeeper was an odd show that was broadcast on the radio, because the producer’s budget couldn’t afford it to be a TV show, or even a decent radio show.
"Gee whiz! I knew you’d show up!" said an anonymous .
"Well, I showed up, so there!"
"Yeah! Now go stop the evil Eggnoggertron!"
"What?"
"I said: Go stop the evil Eggnoggertron!"
"Who?"
"The evil Eggnoggertron!"
"I uhh…I uhh…I get paid to do this?"
"No! You do it because you stand up for goodness and soft served ice cream!"
"I…no I don’t! Who told you this? Who is your source?!?!!"
"Glagh!"
There was a sound effect of vomiting, then a bunch of fuzz.
ZOOOOOOB! A guy materialized out of thin air and landed on his face.
"Whoa nelly! Who are you?" Phil questioned the dude lying on his face.
The guy got up. His nose was upside down and bleeding profusely. "My name is Fredrico. I am being hunted by a fat midget. Do you think you could help me?" said Fredrico.
"I’m not sure if I can help you. The midget… he is the Muck’s minion. He will stop at nothing to lodge you in a magical closet. If that happens, all is lost…for you that is. The Muck is a relentless force that has poisoned this school. There is no escape. Unless we figure out a way to defeat the Muck, the midget will find us…you…and we will stand no chance. Unless you happen upon me again. Which is unlikely. So, if it is help you want, then we must work together to coordinate a plan to destroy the Muck forever. Do you think you can do that?" Phil said.
"I’ll try. First, we need to find out this…Muck’s…weaknesses. Then we can use his weaknesses against him to defeat him," Fredrico told Phil.
"Well, I think the Muck is allergic to chili powder, and maybe kittens…no, caterpillars, definitely," Phil said vacantly.
"You don’t know do you? Well, then we’ll have to find out. I think we should start by getting a stool sample from the Muck"
"A stool sample!?!?!? I’m not quite sure even the Muck knows which end is which. And how do you expect do get that close? I mean ‒ does the Muck even dump? I mean…I think it is a dump! I found him in the toilet you know. What if it eats dump? First we need to find out what this Muck even is!"
"…Okay. I was just suggesting a starting point. But, if you’re not sure what the Muck even is…then we should find that out first. That ‒ that might be helpful."
So Fredrico and Phil set out to observe the Muck in its natural habitat. The Muck resided in one of the bathrooms in the basement. The Muck was basically just a huge pile of goop that pulsated at regular intervals. Occasionally it would release a corrosive acid that would make a bigger hole for its ever-expanding girth.
"Oh! And one thing before you begin your observation. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT TOUCH THE MUCK. It will poison you just as it has poisoned me. Since it has corrupted my mind I cannot do anything against the Muck’s will. But you are pure. You can defeat him because he hasn’t corrupted you yet. Now, start making observation as to its weaknesses," Phil said to Fredrico.
And so Fredrico observed. He did it for a long time. He was completely silent until he randomly burst out, "How do you know it’s a male?"
"Uhh…well I just assumed…Typically bad guys are…well…guys…I guess," Phil said uncertainly.
"Just wondering…because I think it’s giving birth," Fredrico said calmly.
"G–wha–giving birth! That can’t be!"
From inside a mysterious opening in the Muck was an emerging fetus-like being.
"Oh no! It’s the Jabberwockies!"
 |
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
a has to put food on the table just like everyone else
|
Posted:Apr 6, 2009 12:03 am
Last Updated:Apr 8, 2009 10:56 am
6742 Views
|
Justice For All? Baloney!
Let's take a look at the and Grub.
What's the matter with some people?
Why do they gotta' hate?
Why do some people get so upset when they see a eatin' fat-cat good?
Hey! Gigolos gotta' eat too!
Gigolos gotta' put food on the table just like everybody else.
Is a supposed to starve and eat crappy food just because he makes his living as a male ?
HELL NO!
Let me just say this for the record.
I don't approve of or condone anyone breaking the law and that includes Man-ho's like the , but I do feel that a has the RIGHT to eat a decent meal, just like law-abiddin' citizens.
Why do some people feel that the the doesn't have the right to eat classy things like Lobster or Baked Alaska, that he should have to eat low-class things like Ramen Noodles or that nasty-ass cheese that the state governments give out to the poor?
It's not right!
Certain people need to change their way of thinking!
If a wants to eat Beef Wellington, then dammit let him do it!
Some people really need to mind their own business and stay the hell out of the 's business.
He ain't in their's, so they need to stay the hell out of his!
What's right, is right baby!
If a cop has proof, then a should be arrested for solicitation, but dammit, let him eat Porterhouse Steak and Champagne Cake in the slammer!
 |
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
procrastination can save your life
|
Posted:Apr 5, 2009 11:57 pm
Last Updated:Apr 8, 2009 9:13 pm
6956 Views
|
Just a silly, maybe funny story. It can be disgusting or hilarious, depending on your point of view. Personally, I think its a bit of both.
I was fed up with life. Really, I was. It was just too much. I really cannot take any more of this.
The pitiful existence I led could hardly be called life. No, even death was better than this, and now, I’m going to make that better choice. I’m choosing death.
I take that razor, and bring it close to my wrist, the silver blade glinting in the dim light of my bedroom. I run my hands up and down the blunt edge, almost caressing it. This is my ticket to happiness, my way out of a life full of misery and grief.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. I hadn’t paid my phone bill yet. The connection would be cut if I didn’t pay it by tomorrow. I got up, and almost dropped the razor and was on my way to get the bill when something else occurred to me.
Why would I need a cell phone if I was dead? Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I went back to me seat on the window pane and brought the blade back to my wrist.
As I am about to make the cut, I notice my veins. Funny, I’ve never paid my attention to them before, but now, they look so…fragile. Yes, they looked fragile. Tiny blue lines that crisscrossed, stark against my pale, almost white skin. They were throbbing too, ever so softly. I ran my hands down the skin covering them, surprised at how I didn’t feel anything. I was sure I would feel pain if I touched them.
"Concentrate." I told my self sternly and turned back to the task at hand. My suicide. It’s getting dark, I must do it before long if I didn’t want anyone to knock and disturb me. As I press the blade to my wrist, on those delicate veins, another thought occurs.
If I cut myself, I was sure to make a mess, and I certainly didn’t want to stain the covers of the window seat. I am rather fond of that seat, and I really don’t want it to be marred with great, dark splotches of my blood.
I bring out some towels from the bathroom and spread them across the seat, making sure that there was a thick layer, sufficient to staunch the flow of blood, and sat back down to cut myself.
I press the blade into my wrist, and pull it, but nothing happens. A very small cut is made, but that is all. The blade is too blunt to work properly. I sigh and go to the kitchen, to find a better knife.
When I enter the kitchen, I see Clara, my cat waiting there for me to give her her food. Feeling slightly guilty for delaying her dinner, I quickly make her food and then rummage around for a sharp knife so I can cut myself.
None of the knives I possess seem good enough, so I decide to buy a new one. As I put on my coat, I looked out the window and saw that it had begun to rain. I didn’t fancy getting drenched, so I slipped off my coat and went and sat down on my couch. I picked up the remote control and turned on the television set.
I would commit suicide tomorrow.
 |
|
|
2
Comments
|
|
jabberwocky
|
Posted:Apr 5, 2009 11:52 pm
Last Updated:Apr 8, 2009 10:55 am
6826 Views
|
Quite possibly the oddest thing you will ever lay eyes on...for now...
A short story
Jabberwocky: noun, a random assortment of nonsense in writing
Fredrick woke up in the closet. The janitor�s closet to be specific, if you�re that kind of person. He had no idea what happened or what time it was. He exited the closet and found himself in an empty hallway. Suddenly he realized what he had to do. He walked down the hall to the locker that had a sticky note that said "quid" on it. He turned it right side up, and dropped the lollipop wrapper that also said "quid". He heard a squeaking. A fat was pushing a wheeled dumpster through the hall. Fredrick had to proceed.
He walked through the hall, by a room with a really fat lady sitting at her desk saying to herself really loudly, "Let�s see here, let�s see here."
At the end of the hall he turned left and down a stair set, where there was some guy and this short with a big coat.
"Miss English, you miss English, gotta miss English, just miss English," the guy said, apparently to the big coat .
"Miss English," the said to Fredrick in a weird accent. Then he opened the door and vanished forever. That was the key.
Fredrick walked down more stairs, into the bowels of the building. He slowly proceeded to the end of the hall where room 108 was. He slowly opened the door.
No one was there.
It wasn�t supposed to be like this. Now he was sweating. He heard a groan like someone had just found a large, stinky turd that had refused to go down the toilet. A fat midget walked out of a room in another hall across Fredrick. He started running frantically, his arms flapping against his body like limp chickens.
Fredrick had no choice but to lock himself in room 108.
The midget banged against the door, wanting flesh. There was a gurgling, and the room became quiet. Fredrick tried to open the door, but the doorknob fell off and exploded during the hubbub. He was locked in. He was going to have to eat himself eventually. But now he had to try and get out so this story won�t be so short.
Right when Bob opened the door he slipped and smacked his head against the sink. Apparently people didn�t know how to use the bathroom. He left to try and find another one.
He really had to go. But every bathroom he found was either too slippery or smelled like dead people.
He heard an odd noise, like some furry animal yelling at the top of its lungs. Suddenly a fat midget ran out of nowhere and shoved Bob with surprising force into a nearby closet.
A closet that smelled really bad. It was also really cramped in there. All these odd utensils that seemed to have no purpose. But it SMELLED! A lot. Like some dead pig lathered in feces in a pile of garbage. Which was pretty bad. And the door mysteriously locked itself. Who was that midget? Wow did it smell! Bob was on the verge of puking when he involuntarily passed out.
He woke up exactly thirty minutes and twelve and a half seconds later.
The closet was still locked, but the midget had apparently gone away. The closet still stank.
Bob had to stay after school today to make up a test he missed. He had to go to the bathroom but couldn�t find any good ones.
GSHTHWACK! The door magically opened. Bob cautiously exited, checking for the cannibalistic midget. He was nowhere to be found. Well, he should probably finish his test. But he had to go to his locker first. He made his way to his locker, passing through the empty, silent hallways that composed the building in which he was educated (Read: school). He remembered he had a lollipop wrapper in his pocket, so he dropped it on the ground, thinking the custodian would pick it up.
Joey walked by, for some reason wheeling a dumpster. Bob proceeded down the hall, passing one of his classes. He passed a guy having a conversation with a with a big coat. When he got to the bottom floor and found no one in the room he had to be in, he started to get a little warm. He heard a growl and the fat midget came out of the locker room. Before Bob could get safely into the room, the midget grabbed hold of his foot and dragged Bob into a closet and propped him up in an uncomfortable position.
Jimmerford woke up in a tightly enclosed space with his hand in a bowl of warm water. Apparently he hadn�t "had an accident" yet, but his bladder felt ready to burst. He violently squirmed around until a door flew open and he fell on his face. He got up and started to run to the nearest bathroom. Any minute now he would lose control and it would be all over the place.
Jimmerford turned a corner and saw a bathroom, about a hundred feet away. He broke out into a dead run. He flung open the door, and suddenly his feet were flailing like a pair of underwear tied to a flagpole. Somehow his head was in his armpit.
His arm went around his neck and into his mouth. His forehead collided with a sink and he ended up all twisted and mutilated on the floor. A floor that was soaking wet with urine and something else�
"My face!" Fredrico yelled as he fell down the stairs.
For some reason he swore he saw a small, meaty little leg stick out and trip him just before he went down the stairs. Now he was ever-so-gracefully gliding down on his face. He fell in a twisted heap at the bottom. After about thirty painful minutes he stood up, and then fell over. He then got bored and went to sleep.
He woke up sometime later, hanging from the ceiling like a bat. His head felt like it had been eating McDonald�s for the past year.
He looked around. He saw no one, just a McDonald�s wrapper and a pile of bark. So now he had to get down. He began to ferociously gnaw at the rope until he fell on his face. He got up, twisted his nose back into place, and began to frolic. He was in mid-frolic when he heard the sound of glass breaking. He turned around to see a rabid panda galloping towards him at blazing speeds. Fredrico began to run away, but he tripped over his arm (he has long arms) and fell down a gaping hole into the abyss.
Well, it turned out not to be an abyss, but the boiler room. He didn�t know what the boiler room�s purpose was, but it didn�t matter, because a rabid panda was chasing him. He opened a random door to find an angry, fat midget with spaghetti all over his face. The midget picked Fredrico up and, with a complex series of movements, placed Fredrico in a disgusting position inside the boiler thing.
While Fredrico was contemplating how he got in the boiler, it began to heat up and Fredrico melted. Or so he thought.
 |
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
poem called taken
|
Posted:Mar 30, 2009 6:59 pm
Last Updated:Mar 30, 2009 6:59 pm
6765 Views
|
Taken
the thief
is happy to have me back
we sit by the stern
watching the smoke curl off the ropes
old Balmain
devolve into a mock-up
he seems lighter these days
the curl of his mouth
has words in it now
he chews over
my recent trouble
as though he owned it
as men disarmed by luck will often do
he looks me over all glassy-eyed
as at the house where he was born
spits the matter out
into the russet churn
that water’s getting’ red
as a Pommy’s arse
nods towards the havoc
at Milson’s Point
asks me about Braidwood
bold as brass
why am I so dark on him
who saved me more than once
yes he did yes he did
but we were all so busy doing that
mate, you heard he beat a man
not to death, mate, don’t worry
ha ha ha
yer not runnin’ errands
the crew come round
to shake the ropes dry
but has anyone told you
what that man was trying to do?
he had come
to take that darkie’s little girl
for no good reason, mate
bar bein’ a fucking blackie!
that’s the law, dinks!
got it through while we were away
he is incredulous
I don’t know why
he tells me the thing
in all good faith
as one who slept rough
perhaps
with her dark eyes
drilling into his back
but he is a man
too easily swayed
too eager to believe
what one man saw with ten men’s eyes
 |
|
|
0
Comments
|
|
To link to this blog (hooiserdaddy69) use [blog hooiserdaddy69] in your messages.
|
|
|
| Sun |
Mon |
Tue |
Wed |
Thu |
Fri |
Sat |
| |
|
1
|
2
|
3
|
4
|
5
|
6
|
7
|
8
|
9
|
10
|
11
|
12
|
13
|
14
|
15
|
16
|
17
|
18
|
19
|
20
|
211
|
22
|
23
|
24
|
25
|
26
|
27
|
28
|
29
|
30
|
|
|
|
|
