workday.

"Censure me in my leisure, and awake your senses. ... No.  That doesn't sound right.  I can never remember when I need to."

Morgan turned toward me with an incredulous look, an awful smirk etched carefully on his face.  "That is, em, masterful, sir.  I must salute you for, em, managing to copy Shakespeare by misunderstanding and misquoting his work.  Truly, truly."  He struggled to keep his face straight.
      "Really, Morg, I can't do this.  How do I write something... like this... for anything... like this?  Eh?"
"It's a ruddy obituary, Sam.  Don't.  Use.  Shakespeare.  You'll regret it."
      "Mmmmm... mmm.  I can't.  I'--"
"Yes, you're having an existential crisis.  Don't deny it, man.  As Richard the Third said, em, 'chop off his head, man.'"
      "You scrub."
"Ah, us scrubs, the intellectual garbage of the news world.  Love it."
      Out of a sudden urge to act out a movie scene probably found in most modern romantic comedies, I crumpled the paper up, stood up to throw it into the waste basket, and stubbed my toe on Morgan's table leg.  The office buzzed with suppressed laughter.  Morgan smiled in an utterly condescending, charming way.
"At least, sir, I do my job with integrity and surety; I'm a perfect, em, scrub.  You got some work to do though."
     
      "Scrub."
"It's due before lunch break."
      "Oh."

long - 1.3

"This has been our world for countless years now.  You and I, Hero, we do not notice the mortality of those who are... mortal."
"I notice.  I see them die.  I-- wait.  I am mortal."
That smile.  "Well.  That may change."  Don't look, don't look.
"Look."  It was no friendly suggestion.
"Keep... going."
A map slid out from under the table, conveniently into her hand.  The microwave beeped.
"Ah.  After we partake of this innovation I stumbled upon weeks ago."
The package says... Hot Pocket?
"Yes, I believe that is what humans call them."
"And you dragons would eat this?"
"We are wyvern formes, Hero.  And I enjoy this quite a lot.  It says, ground beef.  I quite like a cow."
I laughed.  Why did I do that?
"Thank you."
"You do know though, they are extremely unhealthy."
She gasped.
"Oh, no.  No.  I've been trying to cut down the excess around my chin, here..."
Don't look.
"Yes, don't look."  She blushed.  I looked.


"Sorry."
"No, I don't... do you find it repulsive?"
I stared at her, worrying at the excess fat that clearly wasn't there, pulling at her chin.
"Uh.  No.  I don't."
"You don't like it!"
"No, no, yes, I do!"
She smiled.
Why did I... "Oh.  No."

long - 1.2

The doors swung shut behind me.  This was no time to be caught off-guard.  Sword unsheathed itself.

"Please, put that down."  The wyvern king boldly turned her back to me, gliding towards... a microwave?

The back of her dress was too low-cut.  

"I wore it for you."

Confusion.  I ran my hand through my hair.

"Hold on a minute, I'll just... fry something here."  She placed something in the microwave, turned, smiled.  I blushed.  Hadn't meant to do that.

Okay.  Don't look at her.  "How do... you have microwaves?  That's human technology."

Another smile.  Don't look.  "Look, please.  Well, I call this the heat ray.  It was a gift from one of my generals.  Quite more efficient than using heat spells, mmm?"

"Mmmm.  I see.  And... how many humans did he kill for that?"
She was close.  Too close.  Too... her eyes searched for mine. 

"Right."  No.
"Yes."  She matched my pace as I stepped back.

"No.  Stop.  I can't."

"Can't?"

"You have killed my people.  How can you be you?"  Slender, delicate, sinuous... beautiful.

"Thank you."  She blushed. 

"Oh.  No."

Her lips parted.  "There is reason to this war.  War may destroy some, but it sustains more than it destroys."

"What?"

surreel.

      It was... I was surrounded.  Great white sharks, circling me slowly, waiting for the first sign of fear, they were.  No more.  No more would I see my dear friends and family.  Shouldn't it be family and friends?  Well.  To our work alive.  What do you think of marching to Philippi presently?  I do not think it good.  Because... I am no narwhal.  I can fight no sharks.  Ooh, they're scary.  Blood.  Don't show fear, and don't bleed.  I have an open cut from last week.  Did I put a bandage on already?  It's on.  I can feel it.  Focus.  Relax.  Roll the shoulders back, roll with the punches, and punch them back.  Yes.  FOR A RED DAW-

"Sir?  Sir."

I started involuntarily.  A gnarly hand rested lightly on my shoulder.  "Yes!  I'm here!  What seems to be the problem?  Eh??"  Don't panic.  Get... ready... they'll pounce any minute.  Oh.  "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Your audition was to start six minutes ago, sir.  You've been sitting staring at the keys vapidly for quite some time now."

Did he just say vapid?  Me, vapid?  Really.  Couldn't he find a better word, like... facetious.  Or maldovish.  Or thunderbolt-like.  Oh.  Wait.  "Audition?"

"Yes?"

a_sence.

      The sun rolled further down in the sky, lazing over a city block as he basked in his own warmth.  He adjusted the thermometer down a little: 5,502 degrees Celsius.

      "It's much too early for you too be up like this, sun.  It's only eleven in the morning."  I sighed.  Walking down twenty blocks from 63rd in this blistering weather wasn't particularly enjoyable.  It was these mornings that I took time off... But I'd used up all the sick days for this year last year.  Bother.  "Bother."  It made more sense when I said it out loud.  I sounded like one of the main male protagonists in one of those reverse harem role-playing games.  Well, why not.  I cleared my throat, remarking, more to myself than anyone else, "You... You're not hurt, are you?  If you... If anything had happened to you, I'd... I'd fall in love with you."  I glanced up and caught the gaze of the lady walking across the road, who immediately averted it.  Why had I chosen such a quiet intersection to relieve stress?  "Bother."

      "Morning, Missus Lumkee."  I always had to stop thinking "lumpy" when I said the name at looked at her hair at the same time.  "Stop smiling, stop smiling."  I muttered.  "I'm sorry, Mister Fung?"  She'd heard?  Well, I could pass it off as a careless comment about my own behavior with absolutely no relation to her hair.  "Oh, nothing.  Beautiful sun out today, isn't he?"  She smiled painfully.  "Mister Fung, you're eighty minutes late."

      "Oh, fudge."

what #1. interviews.

What to do for an interview.

FOR THE HANDSHAKE
1.  Make sure your hands are as warm and non-sweaty as you can possibly make them.  As a friend of mine used to say, just use talc.  Talc keeps your hands dry, rough, and manly.  The handshake is much like the Harlem Shake - either you win, or you don't.  Either you do the Harlem Shake, or you don't.  No?  No connection?  Moving on.
2.  Firmidity.  Make sure your interviewer is pleasantly surprised by the energy imbued within your hands; try to outdo him, but only by a little.  It shows your competitivity, but only by a little.  Like you won't take his job in five years, you'll do it in ten.  For her... (meaning female interviewers) just off a bit.  Let her win.  Females like it when they win.

FOR THE EYES
1.  Ah.  You must show intensity within those deep pools.  Intensity enough to show that you will take his job, but in ten years, not in five.  Intensity enough to show that customers will not sass you, but will still be able to complain [quietly and respectfully, lest they be beat to pulp].  Intensity enough to show that you mean lots of good, good things.  You, the person.  As an employee.
2.  It also helps to have eyes that change colour often.  I mean, if you're looking intensely at your interviewer and your eyes change colour, you WILL get the job.  No bout.  *Doubt.  Being someone whose eyes fundamentally cannot change colour, I wouldn't know if they do that in daytime during interviews.  But... if you're lucky.

FOR THE RESUME
1.  ...lolwut?  << None of that.

Otherwise, just smile, speak like a boss (but still subserviently, but with authority, so he knows you mean business, but not that much business, like you won't take his job in five years, you'll do it in ten).  
DON'T: 
a) wear earrings or glasses [for men] || 
b) drink, smoke, or snort || 
c) flirt || 
d) make bodily... noises you will regret making in public, because your interviewer IS the public. 

And you know... if you work with customers:
The customers are angels.

troll.

"Grunge in m'pants, grunge in m'pants..."  The old geezer truckled down Mulberry Boulevard on a Sunday afternoon with his camouflage beanie and a stick of licorice.  I'd spotted him walking up this particular stretch of road at this particular time of day with that particular stick of licorice twenty two times before.  Every day this happened.  But I'd just have to bear with it.  I stopped my ears with buds, took a deep breath, and began blasting Megurine Luka [(c) Vocaloid] so he'd be able to hear it and I wouldn't be able to hear him.  Didn't work.  He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and confrontationally spread wide-eagled his two arms.   "Nnnnuuuuunnnnkkkkkkaman???" Is what it sounded like through Dancer in the Dark.  What, me?  I didn't hear nothing.  Walk past, just walk past...
"Nnnnuuuuuuuuuuunnnnkkkkkkaman!!!"  Come on.  "I'm sorry, sir, did you say something?"  "Did you just call me an old geezer, you foul-mouthed young whippercreamer?  Why, you know, those days, my days, mmm.... The young men, that's me, or was me... Mmm.  The young men were respectful to women!"  You're not a woman... "Sir, I never said anything, I never even thought you were an old geezer."  Well, maybe I did.   But he won't know.  "There.  You just said it.  Old?? ME?  Quaint, antique, perhaps.  But not old.  Why, in my nnnuuuuunnnnkkkamananananan."  It sounded like that because I'd gotten past him and put Excalibur on.  This was the twenty-third time.  It's nice being nice... But some people don't have unlimited patience.  I'm one of those.  "Pmmmummdinnnn!!"  That was different.  I turned around.  "What's wrong, sir?"  "Please, I'm dying."  "Excuse me?"
A devilish grin formed on his face.  "If a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound?"
That was the twenty-fourth time.

truth.

"You know what to do, right?  Act like a couple."
"Mmm.  Leave it to me.  I won't be put to shame by fools with love on the brain.

Hey, honey. Whatcha wanna do when we get to the beach?"
"Let's take a walk together along the shoreline."
"I like that.  We can talk about our future while gazing at the setting sun."
[Here, he gives his best sparkling prince impression.]

"They're totally faking it."

"So fake."

"Fake..."

[Here, he gives his best unperturbed impression.]

"Hey.  Wouldn't it be romantic to look for shells too?  If I find any rose-coloured ones, I'll give them to you."

"That sounds too wonderful.  We can each keep one half of a pair as a souvenir of the trip."

"Mm.  Let's make lots of memories of our love!"

[Here, he gives his best sparkling prince impression.]

"It's like some second-rate film."

[Here, he gives his best unperturbed impression.]

Currently hiring one male and one female actor between the ages of 15 and 16 for the revised [in progress] stage adaption of Oreshura.  Pay will be discussed in further meetings.  Plus extras.

- (c) Not Me

a dream I wish I dreamed.

"Wait, what? That doesn't seem physically possible!" I screamed as the stranger lifted 5 feet off the ground. "Anything is possible here! You just gotta believe!" he yelled back as he started going up higher and higher.

Let me just fill you in real quick. After a very bad and, to put it gently, weird science experiment, I became stranded on an island...not on Earth. At least, it didn't seem like Earth. After all, the sky was green, the grass was red, and the sand was blue. But considering the nature of the science experiment, it was also very likely that I blew out the receptors in my eyes, but I consider the former to be true based on the following events. I saw a duck fly past me. Not normal flying, mind you, but rather as if it was just shot out of a cannon.....a very greasy cannon. But this fact did not surprise me as much as the fact that the duck winked and said "yo" as he flew past me. At that point instinct kicked in as I said "sup, bro" and proceeded to go in for what is commonly known as "the bro hug", but by that time he was already gone, but not before leaving a pair of sunglasses in my outstretched hand. Naturally, I placed them on my devilishly handsome face while striking a pose, of which I will not go into too much detail. But it was a cool pose. Suddenly a stranger ran up, slapped me across the face, and started levitating all while humming the theme from the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Then the above in italics occurred, and now we're all caught up. Yay. As he started rising, I noticed he took my sunglasses, which caused me to become greatly angered. Since flying was not an option for me on account of the fact that I wore a kilt, I decided to believe he was on the ground, and lo and behold, there he stood in front of me! At this point I became curious to test my hypotheses in regard to the compression/ tension ratio of my knuckles versus the right side of his cheekbone. Incidentally, this was the first step in the experiment previously mentioned, but I don't think now is the time to bore you with those details. After I retrieved my sunglasses, I noticed that enough time had passed for this stranger to recover from my hypotheses. Naturally, I decided to turn him into a firehydrant that was able to sing "Oh, Susannah" when used, since that is a relatively upbeat song with major chords to help anyone feel happy inside. After this event, I had an uneasy feeling as if my surroundings were incredibly boorish, which is when I noticed the massive forest behind me. Naturally, I decided to put the whole thing on fire, and attempt to placate the hungry flames with my newly acquired fire hydrant. This did not work, but I did feel rather happy inside on account of the song. Then I woke up....

this day is mine - 1.1

"'ARRGGHH' I screamed. For as I learned from the whale, dolphins become confused when they hear a scream, since their main form of communication is echolocation.......and violence. Basically when I screamed, the dolphins heard, 'hey Bob, pass the pancakes, I put way too much maple syrup.' (this is a rough translation of course, since the language of Dolphin - or flabber as they call it - and English are very far apart).  Now, in dolphin circles, the the words 'syrup', and 'pass' don't mean much. However, there are a few dolphins named Bob here and there. And they do love a good pancake. But the reason why the dolphins were so confused was that the Bobs normally worked in the financial department of the LVD, and they don't get off from work 'till around 6ish. How can they possibly be having pancakes at this time of the day? With this scream, I dove into the murky depths of the LVD cove. Armed with a trident, sandwich, and a picture of Morgan Freeman, I quickly found myself unable to breathe, so I came back to the surface, grabbed another picture of Morgan Freeman, then dove into the murky depths once again. What terrors lay before me? What trials of endurance must I face? Why in the world do I only have two pictures of Morgan Freeman instead of 10? All these questions and more will be answered next time, on...........eeeeehhhggghh.....!!"

the bloggers.

Art, Serfy, and Col -

Summer, Autumn, and Winter.

Oh wait. Now he’s Fourth.

....Fourth what?

(Haikus are so amusing.)

long - 1.1

"Well... You can't just tell me that and expect me to answer you."
I eased Sword gently out of its sheath, but I was still quite a long way away.
She was still long away.  "Wha-" Inches.  Just inches?
"How did you... get here?  How did I...?"  Her hand pressed on mine, seating Sword back in its sheath.
"Questions will have answers.  But for now, come to the palace of the wyvern king."
I'd thought this was the palace.
"It's not, really, just the reception area for visitors, which I unfortunately don't get very often."
"You can read my mind?"
"Also unfortunately.  It's a bad habit I picked up."
The doors fell open, stretching long into the distance.  Or, it was just a step's length.
"This is quite, em... interesting."  Confusing.
"It does seem quite confusing at first, but my wish is that it will grow on you."
"Sorry."
"It's alright.  I've been waiting.  A bit of hesitance, I don't mind.  But, the Hero... You are much braver than I'd imagined.  I saw the fight with my wyvern Guard."
"You couldn't have just called them off, since you were planning... this?"
"Well, you know, it's uh... I don't make rational decisions when I'm in love.  I'm just a wyvern."
In love with someone she'd never met...
"Well, I've dreamed."
"I can't even think."

hipster - ii.

It was at the stoplight again.

Looking out the windows of my old navy Corolla waiting for the light to change, I see this teenage guy strutting like a model down the sidewalk. Nodding his head to the music from his bulky headphones, he holds a black leather bag awkwardly under his arm. As he jaywalks across the road, I can't help but wonder about him.

Leaning back to face Aaron, I ask, “On a dare?”

“Maybe just hipster,” he says smugly.

π.

I asked Bluebird: Have you seen π?

Bluebird chirped: Too-whee, twee twee twee!
and flew away.

I asked Squirrel: Have you seen π?

Squirrel chattered: Brrrrrip, brip, ch-ch-ch-ch-ch!
and scrambled higher in his tree.

I asked Deer: Have you seen π?

Deer snorted: Bhrrrrrrumph!
and switched its white tail in my face.

I asked Daddy: Have you seen π?

Daddy smiled: There it is, on the dinner table - Mommy's homemade apple π!

long - 1.0

[Read:: in a Bristol accent ::Read]

Reclining at the end of the wyvern hall was a long woman.  Everything was wrong.  Long.  My hands tensed; I began walking down the oddly light blue carpet, seemingly unaware of its non-place among the deep red decor of the wyvern's eyes.  The pale colours remained undiminished against my caked, muddied boots.  The hall stretched... stretched.  Long.  How many seconds had it been?  Sweat beaded on my chin, dropped.  Looked down... it was still dropping.  Long.  A long way down.  

I reached the woman.  Everything was long.

"He will say yes to anything you ask of him because he loves like you love: sometimes too eagerly, sometimes too early, but always deeply."
Something was wrong.  This wasn't... exactly what I had come for...?  Why was the king a woman anyway.
"I'm sorry?  Are you not the wyvern king?"
"I am the wyvern king.  Welcome.  I am the wyvern king.  And you are finally here.  My Hero."
"Excuse me?  I came to... to defeat you!"
"I am here to be defeated, Hero.  By you."
"I can't.  I do-I don't hit women."  Stuttering.  This is not what Heroes are made of.
"Then marry me."

this day is mine - 1.0

"But David, how are you so sure you own this day? Can it be you found the tear?"

"Why yes, oh nameless one to whom I give my love. You see, in this world, there are people who would take much enjoyment in testing the efficiency of different various objects. I call these people the scum of the Earth. I shall beat up one of them in real time for you now.  Oh, he ran away. That's sad for my body. Let me explain the tear. When a dolphin cries, his intelligence gets leaked out into each individual tear. Now as you know, the dolphin contains within itself the souls of the damned. Every day they plot to kill us all with their minds, but they cannot do so without opposable thumbs. This is a problem for them. One day, as I was taking my daily stroll along the beaches of Maui, I came across a beached whale. He told me the secret coven of the League of villanous dolphins. LVD for short. I set out on my journey..."

boo.

Now that I got your attention, here's a haiku:

As the sun shines through
I see a lemon in it
Oh wait, that's the sun.

Have A Nice Day.