Thursday, December 4th - Unrequited Love

I sit alone in my forest

Nothing but a notebook and a pen

Drawing self portraits to fill the void of no friends

Then you come along and take a look at my art

I though maybe this one's different, maybe time for a new start

So I walk up to make the introduction

You run and scream and force me to abduction

This wasn't the idea, this wasn't the plan

Love is so hard when you're Slender Man

Tuesday, December 2 - CTU

Japan has compromised the whole western seaboard...need...countermeasures...

I hear these words from underneath my pillow fort I have built to sleep in, as is my custom on snow days. I hear my wife having a very badly disguised radio conversation with people from her work. Running water doesn't really mask hissing radios and human talking. You would think all that training at the American Espionage Institute would have taught her that. Anyhow, I cant shake the feeling I probably shouldn't have heard that conversation, but now it has peaked my interest. I relinquish rule over my pillow fort kingdom to my dog Fredrick Douglas as I go snooping. I find her laptop and open it. Password protected. I think for a while and then it suddenly comes to me. Of course, the password couldn't be simpler! I type "brodyisthebestever" into the password bar. Denied. Out of ideas and a little hurt, I see Fredrick Douglas peering at be from inside the feather-stuffed gates of the pillow fort. I squint my eyes at him in thought, and type "fredrickdouglas" into the password bar. Access granted, now back to my super sleuthing. I see a folder on the desktop titled "TOP SECRET" and immediately click it. Inside is a document that spells out the whole situation. Masaya Nakamura, founder of the Japanese organization Nakamura Amusement Machine Manufacturing Company, better known as NAMCO, has been secretly developing in his underground laboratory the next installment of the Pac Man series of arcade machines using the latest in brain control technologies. The first wave of these machines have been unleashed in California, infiltrating every arcade and game pub, players everywhere are coming under the suggestion of the game, causing them to take out their life savings in quarters and play the game until they are all gone. Shocked by this new information, as well as the TASR my wife had to the back of my neck, I regain consciousness an hour later. She left for work and took the laptop with her. Great. Good thing I printed a copy. I walk to the printer and take the paper sitting there. Continuing my reading, it seems there is only one way to defeat this threat and free the people who have already become enslaved by the games. To set them free someone has to find the master game machine in Nakamura's lab and beat the 256th level of the game. I am not trained to break into high tech facilities nor am I trained in espionage or any form of sneakery, but I have seen every James Bond movie a thousand times so I think I am more than qualified. I call my best pal Steven Spielberg, who is also the best Pac Man player in the history of existance.

Hey, ever been to Japan?

Friday, November 21 - Ekphrasis

Man on the Moon
from a ship through the stars
Searching for the answers
to who we really are
Ground of black
painted on a sky of gold
Man stood face to face
with the Creator of old
Disconnecting his oxygen
vapours of steam from the ports
and mix with the atmosphere
Sending red alarms to the bioreport
Man found the one, finally found his home
In a galaxy with beings far beyond our own

Thursday, November 20 - Inside Out

Here I am. Sitting in Creative Writing class, trying to work on my Dreadful Dictionary for the end project of this unit. Only problem is, I have lost all my words.

"You could just make up some new ones," a voice inside my head says.

"I could I suppose..."

"Or you could just not do it at all, think of all the work you put into it and now it's all gone. Its not worth it." Another voice says.

"This is a valid point..."

"What are you thinking?! That't not at all a valid point!"

"This is also true..."

"C'mon, forget working on the project and just play some games!"

"NO, he can't do that, this project needs to be done so he can get a good grade!"

The voices argue back and fourth until a third one chimes in...

"Woah, what is all this noise about?"

"HE thinks Brody should just play games instead of doing his work!"

"He's already lost all his work, c'mon it's ridiculous to have to do it all over again, HE thinks Brody should do it all over again! That's ridiculous!"

"Wait. Have you written that screenplay yet?"

I reply to the third voice.

"Yes..."

"Set your ND filters?"

"Uh huh..."

"Buy your film stock?"

"Yeah..."

"...Is it casted yet?"

"Well no..."

"Okay, make sure you finish up preproduction stuff, then I don't care what you do."

The first voice returns.

"Which will be your work!"

"...Fine."

"Good. Now hurry up and post this blog entry so you can get started."

I finish typing and press "Publish". 

Tuesday, November 18th - Treason

Surprise!!

Giuseppe Marco Fieschi came home to see his friends had thrown him a "congratulations on getting out of prison" surprise party. They all had cake and a grand time, but Giuseppe couldn't get this one thing off his mind.

How could King Louis imprison me like that? After we went to high school together! I broke him out of detention with only a paper clip and a MacGyver rerun! And he just locks me away! Stealing the councilman's checkbook and forging checks into my own account isn't something worth ruining a friendship over!! Banking fraud is not that big a deal!! Ill show him...

A group of Giuseppe's friends walk over and offer him the chance of a lifetime. They plan on assassinating the King, and they want him to do it.

Of course I'll do it! He needs to pay.

Now Giuseppe, this needs to be clean and you need a discreet way of killing him, you need a creative and clever plan to be able to pull this off...

Oh don't worry about that, I'll be super discrete and creative, no one will ever see it coming.

* * *

Giuseppe awaits the king to pass by with his family on his yearly review of the Guard. He looks down at his weapon of choice for assassinating the king. An enormous custom built 25-barrel shotgun.

Nailed it.  He thought.  Total sneaky and stealthy, like a shadow in the night...

The king passed by, this is Giuseppe's chance. He pulls the trigger and unleashes a hellfire of bullets upon the king and surrounding peoples. The massive kick of the 25 shotguns duct tape and krazy-glued together sent Giuseppe flying into the wall, dazed. The enormously impractical and supervillainous contraption killed 18 people, injured 22 more. None of them the royal family. The king was grazed in the forehead by a bullet but not injured. Giuseppe woke up from his daze to see a crowd of people surrounding him looking pretty disgruntled with him. So they put him in a guillotine and hes dead now.

That's what you get Giuseppe.

Moral to the story: If you are going to assassinate someone, don't do it with a ridiculous 25 barreled shotgun.

Friday, November 14th

Franz Gurgenspielheim woke up to a completely ordinary day and walked to his kitchen for some ordinary coffee. He looks at the calendar; November 9, 1989. He walks outside to do his ordinary routine everyday. He walks to the park and sits on the same bench with the same notebook and the same fountain pen. He looks over to the tree he has been admiring for the longest time, and the same little squirrel on one of the branches, and continues his drawing. For a moment he thought of how strange it was that it seemed the squirrel never moved and how the tree never changed with the seasons, but though the idea silly and wrote it off as just him not noticing. He was so focused on his pen strokes, he didn't notice the wrecking ball that smashed through the wall that the tree and squirrel was painted on. When he looked up to take another look at the tree, he saw a man with an equally dumbfounded facial expression as his looking back at him. He saw the man was sitting on a bench, with a notebook and a fountain pen. Looking down at the concrete wall Franz noticed on the other man's side was the same tree with the same squirrel. The two men like reflections of one another stood up and walked toward the newly discovered person. They each looked at the other's notebook, and saw the drawings of the same tree on both of them. Franz looked back at the man and walked back to his bench which he pulled over to the hole in the wall, and the man did the same to his bench. They sat next to each other and shared drawings and stories. The other man was Jorgen Franzheimstien, and every day he woke up to a completely ordinary day and walked to his completely ordinary kitchen for some ordinary coffee. Then he would take the same notebook and the same fountain pen to the same bench to draw the same tree with the same squirrel in the branches. He was too focused on his drawing to notice the wrecking crew smash through the tree, which he now realized was a wall, where he saw a man on a bench just like him, doing the same thing, named Franz Gurgenspielheim. As the two men shared their drawings and stories, they realized that November 9th of 1989 was not just an ordinary day.

Thursday, November 13 - Macabre Art

Emaciated souls in the dying void
The spirits of the damned draw closer
One by one they see the light
And breathe in its breathe of life
So they may continue living singing sullen anthems
Personified misery in the form of a thousand phantoms

Wednesday, November 12 - The Haunted House

This whole town is deserted

Thought detective Blair. He looked down to his left side and winced as he pressed against his blood soaked dress shirt.

Broken ribs, great.

After his train derailed a mile and a half away, an in-shock and barely alive Blair saw a light in the distance, a place he thought he could get help. Upon reaching the town he found the source of the only light. A gas station and convenience store, looking dirty but fully operational. Except there was no one, anywhere. He took some chips and a doughnut and threw some cash on the counter. As he ate to refill his strength, he noticed the door to the back office was ajar and the light inside was flickering. He stood and cautiously moved toward the opening in the office and rested his hand on his holstered pistol. He pushed open the door and walked inside. The office was bigger than expected, and had a disheveled desk in the back corner. The corkboard above the desk had newspaper clippings, headlines about disappearing children, paranormal activity in the local area, and several about mysterious cultish rituals and other crimes. Blair went through the notes on the desk, they documented connections between the news clippings. This guy was looking for something. In the bottom of one of the drawers he noticed a little discrepancy between two segments of the bottom of the drawer. He blew away some of the dust and pushed on one part, and it sprang up, a secret compartment. Inside was a wooden box, and Blair picked it up to examine it. he flipped the latch and opened the box revealing a set of glasses. He removed the glasses and looked at them more closely. There were intricate mechanics in them, and there were three sets of lenses on it, all situated on arms with gears so they could be positioned to bee seen through by the wearer. He puts the glasses on and twists one of the dials, setting one set of lenses in place. Immediately the world took on a bluish hue. Blair walked to the front of the gas station and looked out to the house on the hill. And the grotesque creature running from it toward him. He grabbed his gun and fired at it but it didn't seem to do anything. The creature was on all fours now, contorting its frame unnaturally. Blair ran back into the office and closed the door. The creature rams the door and it comes ajar. Blair can see its disgusting yellow eyes and its unnaturally wide mouth with an unnatural amount of sharp jagged teeth. Blair glances at the creature through the top of the glasses, and its gone. He looks at it through the glasses again, and its trying to bust down the door. Blair tries to take off the glasses, but some force will not allow him to. In a frantic attempt he turns another dial and sets in a new set of lenses. The creature is still there and is crawling through the opening it has bashed through the door. Blair looks for a last stitch effort to escape, and notices the wall at the back where there once was nothing now has a door. He runs through it with no time to spare. He collapses in the floor of the next room, and everything blacks out. He comes back into consciousness and he is lying in a bed. He is relieved that everything he just experienced is forever stuck in the dreamscape and that he is now finally back in reality. That is until he realizes that this is not his room. This is not his bed. Looking out the window he can see the gas station below, from the window of the house he saw earlier. He goes to rub his eyes not believing any of this could be real, but his hands are blocked by the strangest pair of glasses...

Friday, November 7 - Macabre Poetry

A dance with the Devil in the pale moonlight
To somber sullen tones in the graveyard of temptation
Where forbidden fruit grow with barbed wire vines
Salsa with Satan in Luna's faint glow
Will be the last dance of your eternal soul

Thursday, October 30 - Steven Spielberg

Jaws, ET, Indy and Jurassic Park

What new film shall I make today? I need a creative spark.

But whatever I decide, the world will behold

For everything I touch becomes cinematic gold

So I sip my coffee and look out on the West Coast

I'm Spielberg, my films are so good I don't need to boast

Like Michael Bay who is all about the big explosion

But subtlety and adventure are the true Hollywood notion

No one wants real world conflicts and strife

People watch movies to escape normal life

And so I come up with the next summer blockbuster

While Michael Bay's career sits in lackluster.

Tuesday, October 28th - IDEK

Walter White woke up on the beach of Never Never Land. He scratched his head and blinked hard. Everything was so different since he left New Mexico. After killing everyone he ever knew, he faked his own death and moved to Far Far Away, and into the small beach community of Never Never Land. He met a woman named Winter, and together they had a daughter which they named Snow. Walt walked back to his beach home and went down into his basement where his meth operation has grown exponentially in size. The three pigs where working diligently pumping Methelyne Blue into the vats. He nodded and liked what he saw and went back up to the living room. Snow White came into the room with all the teenage angst a 15 year old would have.

"Can I take the Aztec to school today?"

Walter looked disgruntles at the request.

"I told you Snow. I haven't finished cleaning out the guts from that cocaine dealing Wolf yet. I had to hit him 4 times. Not an easy cleanup."

Snow gave him a very angry look and responded frustratingly

"Why didn't you just strangle him with a bike lock like you did Peter Pan to end his 'pixie dust' operation, Dad?"

Walter flipped the page on his newspaper. The headline read "Giovanni "The Gingerbread Man Gambini takes over family, organize crime explodes in Far Far Away."

"I already told you, the FBI would be suspicious of that."

She screamed as bratty teenagers do, and the arguing continued while Scruffy the family dog happily ate all the papers out of Snow's backpack, even the textbooks. She stormed off to school and failed out, forcing her to turn her focus from college to taking over the White family business.

The End.

Monday, October 27th

Paranormal Investigator

International Man of Mystery

Nautically Inclined

Oceanaut with Aquaphobia

Conqueror of Cats 

Cinema

Hats

Iconic Movies

Outlaw Filmmaker

Friday, October 24th - Pirates

It is day 82. The first mate Hennington Nickelbaggs and I are the last survivors on board the Jolly Roger. Ironically, Captain Roger was  the first to go, and he was not too jolly about it. We were sailing through the Himalayan Sea on our way to the Monopoly Islands, then disaster struck our seadog crew. They were fast and merciless. They were too much for us to handle. It is the thing of all mariner's nightmares, the thing that makes most naval officers avoid the Himalayan Sea. Yes, dear reader. I am talking about the dreaded Yeti Crabs. They were first spotted by our navigator, Crusty the Narcoleptic Pirate. Upon seeing these creatures he was struck with such strong fear he just fell asleep, and fell out of the crow's nest. The battle was swift, all hands were lost save a few. I wear the corpse of one of the fallen Yeti Crabs as a hat to strike fear into their hearts. As our ship ran up the coral reef and was rendered unseaworthy, I looked upon the nearby beach. There was a boardwalk where many a pirate ship and merchant ship alike were moored, free parking. I saw the gardens that were kept by Marven, the island's groundskeeper. I saw the green siding on the houses and the red brick hotels. We had arrived at Monopoly Island.

Thursday, October 23rd - Puns

There is a place in dirty slums of the city, where you can't quite tell if that smell is from the open sewer drains or the people sitting next to you at the bus stop. But this is no ordinary bus stop, the bus lines that traveled through here have been gone for some time indeed. You are searching for the mysterious underground competition that only the most hardcore of street-dwellers know the location of. But there is a way to enter with the help of an inside source, and this bus stop is the meeting place. You wait, and then suddenly a black hostage bag is placed over your head and you are taken and thrown into a van as it speeds away. You cannot see, but you feel the van descending an incline, stopping, and you hear the driver give a password to someone. You hear the sound of concrete moving along concrete. You ask yourself: Am I in the parking garage on 5th? The van moves on and stops, and you are thrown out onto the ground and the blind is removed. You look back just in time to see the large concrete wall slide back into place, a hidden door. You get up and dust yourself off, then look at the new place you have arrived in. A large stage and a gallery where hundreds of screaming fans cheered for the men on stage. Blue, green, and yellow laser lights and strobes illuminated the room a frenzy of colors. The men on stage were battling with mics, one dressed as a dapper gentleman and the other a mad scientist. The scientist opened with his first line.

So I'm reading this book on anti-gravity, it's impossible to put down.

The crowd roared and cheered at this declarative showcase of wit. The dapper gentleman took his mic of the stand and made his way across the stage to make his retort.

Whats the difference between a dapper on a bicycle and a poorly dressed man on a unicycle? A tire.

This continued on and on, and you recognized the men on stage. They were two of the best punmen in the world, battling right here in the underground Pun Pit. The scientist was thrown off the stage and you are ushered onto the stage. You pick up the mic, and see the sea of people cheeering. You look up and see a large throne in a balcony over the crowd and immediately know who it is. The rather rotund man in the throne is none other than Attila The Pun, the most undisputed master of puns to ever exist. This underground tournament is to select a successor. You start out, and are not nervous because your stage name proceeds you. You declare into the mic that you are Brosideon, King of the Brocean, eater of Brotato chips, listener of Brohemean Rhapsody, conquerer of Broseph Stalin, part time Brodeo clown, ancestor to Han Brolo space pilot, and descendant of A-bro-ham Lincoln. The crowd falls silent, and Attila the Pun gives a slight nod. You are carried away by the crowd, who no longer cheer but "ohm" in a religious manner. You are taken to the balcony where Attila The Pun personally hands you his crown and steps down into retirement. You seat yourself in the throne, take the scepter and look down to your people.

"Let the games brommence."

Tuesday, October 21 - Deja Vu

Black cat crossing the door
I'm half sure I've seen these things before
Half sure twice makes two halves, make a whole
Crawl through the hole to the mind's console
The door behind which the origin is shut tight
Subconscious barriers from my own insight
Using a mirror to see what I'm sure saw in the past
Take that saw and cut through the door to see at last
What I'm searching for doesn't exist at all
A glitch in the matrix caused the double-event I saw
A glitch in the world or a glitch in the perception?
A glitch in the mind causing its own deception

Thursday, October 16 - Rain

Rain, rain go away
Come again another day
All the world is waiting for the sun

Rain, rain go away
Come again another day
Go away and stop ruining all the fun.

Because truth be told I'm pretty tired
with the way the rain puts out campfires
when I'm trying to enjoy the great outdoors
the rain has to go and turn the sky a dull bore
So go away rain and don't come back 'til you're needed
But while you're here, level 3 needs to be defeated
video games are the only entertainment indoors can provide
so go away rain so I can just go outside

Wednesday, October 15 - I Remember When

Anthony, my dear boy: 

I remember when they reemerged from the shadows.

They had exited our world centuries ago, only leaving behind the remains of the fallen. A grand testament to a great race of beings only surpassed by ourselves in being the most dominate species this planet has ever seen grace its surface. We thought them to be long gone, what we know of them learned from what they left us to find. This could not be farther from the truth. They didn't leave, they never left. They only went into the shadows. Advancing their technology as we advanced ours, growing their civilizations as ours grew. We thought we were the most advanced lifeforms in the universe, then they decided to reclaim their spot on the throne of the world. The technological advances made by the ancient species were far superior to our own. The beasts had developed laser weapons and attached them to their  large frames. In addition to powerful jaws and killer instinct, their Generals were near unstoppable. The creatures are on their way to London, conquering every territory they pass through. I have enclosed a photograph of the war. Keep it safe, my son. I shall return to you soon, but my duty to the Eastern Front are not yet over. The Mecha-Dinosaurian Human war is far from over. 

Your Father:

J. Henningworth Nickelbaggs

Friday, October 10 - Pet Peeve

Ever played paintball? If you answered no to that question, then I am truthfully sorry that you have not begun experiencing life to its fullest extent. But if you have, you have ran into everyone's least favorite paintballer, the wiper. There is a special place in Hell for people who wipe hits when playing paintball, right next to people who talk during movies. This is by biggest pet peeve, because being an avid paintballer and advocate for the sport, wipers kill the game for new players as well as aggravate me to no bloody end. Its even worse when you hit a player, you see them cheat and wipe, and they shoot you out of the game. This will send any paintball field "regular" into a rage. First you are tempted to stoop to their level, but then you realize that would mean becoming the very thing you hate most in this world. So like a respectable sportsman, you play by the rules and call yourself out. Then the equivalent of the Satan of paintball starts trash talking about how he demolished you in the last round and how you didn't have a chance against his skill level and super expensive gun. The rage gets to be too much. How do you solve the problem? Well dear reader, I will tell you. In the next game you run up to his bunker and blast him point blank with several paintballs in the back of the head. This technique is called bunkering in the tournament paintball world, and it is especially useful to take care of cocky cheating punks. This is my numero uno pet peeve. The moral of this story: Don't be a tool.

Tuesday, October 7th - Flip Side

Sitting in Creative writing trying to think just what to write
I think to myself perhaps Kaitlyn might have some insight
So I roll on over and shes immediately irritated and writing stops being so active
This is MY space she says, go away, but I know she finds me attractive.
But by now in this class she should really know
This is OUR space, not hers or mine, and her aggravation with this fact really shows.
But when I leave "her" space she immediately enters "mine"
She wants me around for entertainment but won't accept this space is both hers and mine.
Sooner or later she will learn that I'll never go away
Because once someone and I become good friends, I'm here to stay.

***

Here I am trying to write, hoping it doesn't happen again but I know it will.
Yep. There he is. Rolling over on his chair with wheels.
Invading my space, reading over my shoulder, I'd really rather he not
Always in what he calls "our space" annoying me, at least he's kinda hot.
I tell him to leave but my efforts fall fruitless just as always before
And when he does go back to his space, it leaves me really bored.
And as all double standards go, this one is the same.
"our space" only exists when I want to talk to him, I write the rules to this little game.
Even though he's annoying and won't leave me alone to write.
He is a comic genius with humor that can make any day bright.

Thursday, October 2

Once upon a time there was a science student named Tony. Tony was in biology class, with a frog pinned to the metal tray in front of him. he takes a sharp scalpel and is about to cut into the frog when he hears a voice.

I wouldn't do that if I were you.

Tony looks around for the source of the sound. No one around him seemed to have said it. Not an unusual occurrence, because Tony had no friends.

Down here.

Tony looks at the frog. It was talking to him. He leans in close. He had never met a talking frog before. Tony speaks in whispers.

What do you want?

The frog replies in an aggravated and sarcastic tone.

Well I'd like some Burger King, but first I would like to be set free. Also turning into a human would be nice.

Tony ponders the situation.

Well how do I turn you into a human?

The frog goes over the question in his head.

Ahh, I heard this one guy was kissed and that did the trick for him.

Tony immediately shook his head.

Nope. Not gonna happen.

The frog thought a while.

Alright, I have a idea but you have to do everything I say. Here's the plan...

***

Mr. Daniels looked up from grading last weeks labs, only to see Tony arguing with the dead frog on his desk. Tony then picked up the frog and held it to the heavens, chanting something and spinning in circles, smashing lab equipment and slapping Sammy's head with the frog, causing him to stick himself with the scalpel. Great. Another incident report Mr. Daniels had to do. As Tony told the frog it was not the boss of him and he was his own man and then proceeded to throw the limp frog body out the window, Mr. Daniels wondered why schizophrenic Tony had to be in his class. He decided tomorrow he would just call in sick.

Thursday, September 25 - Mistakes

Once upon a time in a land not so far away, I was present at  my place of employment, the City of Food. A woman approached my mystical price machine with a cake in a box. I could not locate the code of bars on the box, as as with everything else, I turn it upside down to check the bottom. See kids, there is this funny thing called gravity, and the gods of gravity did not smile upon me this day. The cake had mooshed on the top of the box, ruining the icing. Bad life decisions had been made. I hastily called out to the bakers of the fair city and requested a replacement be made in due haste. The woman informed me that i had just in fact ruined a one-year-olds first birthday cake, and I proceeded to not feel bad about it. I apologized but at the same time who cares. In 2.5 seconds that kid drooling in the buggy licking the push bar will have his face smashed into the cake regardless. An ugly replacement was made, and they left very disgruntled. To this present time my coworkers will not allow me to forget this day.

Dinosaurs are Swell Chaps

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Tuesday, September 16 - Spoon

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Monday, September 15 - Goat Man on a Cello

As the smooth bluesy tones emanate from the classily dressed goat-man's cello, the cigar in the tray burns shorter, the brandy in the glass half empty. It was a quiet night for the posh speakeasy, the piano man played to only a handful, Samson the colorblind saxophonist in his one purple / one green boots plays facing the back wall where there is no one. He's regular blind too. I finished the rest of my glass as the fish-waiter tried to pour me more with a gesture of his oddly human arms. I declined and was about to leave when the Lady In Red walked through the door. draped around her neck was a small boy with polio, an elegant winter fashion. Everyone on the place stopped to look, of course except for Samson. Samson is homosexual. Also because he is blind. The Lady In Red danced as the leaves in the wind to the sultry voice of the piano man.

"Open the door, get on the floor, everybody do the dinosaur"

She moved in majestic movements, doing The Dinosaur to perfection. She mimicked the tail swing of the mighty Stegosaurus, and the head bob of a Tyrannosaurus over a fresh kill. Something about her movements possessed me to approach her and do the dance of my people. So I punched her square in the face because I'm Italian.

The End.

Thursday, September 11 - Music Critic

The song "Pumped Up Kicks" by Foster The People is very extremely and inexplicably meh. Disregarding the fact that in actuality the song has an absolutely gruesome and violent undertone and message, the song itself sounds like it was recorded in a train tunnel. There are no acoustics in the recording, sound just reverberates everywhere and anywhere it pleases, creating a distracting echo-esque effect. The instrumentals are very basic and mediocre, and the vocalist is not exceptionally talented. This song is just another sub-par song made popular by the current generation's obsession with artists with a very low amount of talent that make music with negative lyrical messages.

Tuesday, September 9 - Film Critic

This is a film review of the 2011 film Hugo. Only two words need be said. Martin. Scorsese. This man is a cinematic god, and everything he touches becomes instantaneous box office gold. As one of the top 3 directors in Hollywood, Scorsese cannot err when it comes to any directional choices. Casting was phenomenal, shots were beautifully blocked out and framed, and Martin's three-dimensional debut was stunningly done. 100 out of 10, for one reason. Martin Scorsese.

Monday, September 8 - America, Fairyville?

The sounds of keyboards constantly clicking resonates through the office corridor like the hum of bees in a hive. Phones ring off the hook, people talking incessantly. This is what working in the San Fernando Valley sector of Intel Computer Systems is like. I work in one of the new departments meant to "diversify" our company. My sector was established to hire more fictional-Americans such as myself and help Intel comply with new diversification movements in today's workforce.  My name is Thomas, and I am a fairy. Before the cops uncovered my money laundering scheme, they used to call me Tommy "Twinkle Toes" Giovanni. When the cops raided my flower shop and found the two hundred kilos of "fairy dust" for my next shipment, I decided to testify and clean up my act. With the Fictional-Americans Civil Rights Act passed in 2015, Intel opened up the fictional-Americans sector starting in San Fernando Valley. Mostly washed up characters here, characters that in their prime were stars, icons even. Our Regional Manager, Anthony I believe, that guy used to be a horror legend, scared everyone. Ma would tell me stories when I was a kid about this guy, scared the cannolis out of me. Guess everyone had their glory days pass them by at some point. So here I am, having a few rounds with Anthony and a few of the guys at work at the bar on Fourth. Wilbur, Rupert, and Samson are on their fifth order of wings. What pigs. I'll tell you what though, its not so bad. I like this new life. Anthony is one great blackjack player I'll tell you what, that guy has an unbeatable poker-face. I think I have him beat this hand though, I'll take another scotch and enjoy the rest of the night, cause all in all, this is a nice way to live.

Thursday, August Somethingoranother - Mob Scifi

Smoke filled the interior of the Cadillac sedan. A single glowing ember in the back seat came from a cigar resting in an ashtray. Parked outside North Clark Street, the car was the only one in sight. The large man in the back seat muttered to himself.

What is the holdup?

Gunshots ring out from behind the parking structure. The man sits up straight at the sound, listening intently. .45 calibre, he thinks to himself. Typewriters no less. He relaxes back into his seat as he sees two well dressed men in suits apprehended by two officers of the law, being led by gunpoint to the car. Once to the car, the officers put down thier guns and let the suited men inside. They take off their police caps and replace them with fedoras and newsboy caps. The hats are thrown into the back of the car along with the uniforms, all soaked in blood. One of the police impostors speaks in a rushed tone.

Let's get outta here boss, someone would have heard that.

One of the men in suits speaks up from the passenger side, shooting his colleague a look.

You just a'scared ah what you saw back there. Mr.  Capone, there's somethin' weird goin' on. You should really go take a look. Something strange happened, real strange.

The large man in the back took a drag on his cigar and put it out in the tray. He gives an impatient sigh.

Well?

The car pulls around the parking structure, revealing eight dead bodies. Capone noted the violence of the murders. Shredded flesh, bits of organs and gore strewn throughout, brain matter spattered on the wall. His boys were animals. Must have used 200 rounds of .45 from the typewriters, another body especially mangled and torn open showed signs of a 12 gauge blast. One of his men spoke up from the furthest body.

This un sir. Take a look.

Capone knelt down beside the blown away corpse and probed the wounds with his fingers. Pale grey flesh, spattered in a deep indigo blood. Where flesh had been torn from bone he could see a metallic skeleton with pale grey bits fused to it. The puddle Capone was standing in was of a deep purple. He stood up out of shock. This one wasn't one of Bugsy's men, this wasn't even a man.

Dump the body, know one hears about this, you hear? No one knows of this... thing, you got me? Scrub it from the books.

Capone's driver shouts from the car.

Uhh boss... that may be a tall order.

Capone and his men march over to the car and listen to the radio:

Mass hysteria hits New York City today as what appears to be a flying saucer spotted atop the Empire State Building...

Everyone is silent, awaiting what their boss had to say. The driver spoke up.

Well Mr. Capone, what do you think?

Capone took another long drag on his cigar, the ember illuminating his face along with the moonlight.

I think... This is a turf-war we can't win.

Friday, August 29 - Sub

There once was a submarine full of people like you and like me.
Diving deep down into a rough and raging sea.
When they resurfaced the ship their gauges went out
They were no longer on Earth without shadow of a doubt
Two moons in the sky and constellations unknown
There was no way for them to find their way home


And everybody died.


The End.

Thursday, August 28 - SPAAAAAACE

The year is 2199

The month of December, the 31st.

This is the way the world ends.

In 2012, a man by the name of Tony pulled off a feat of such stupidity that he captured the admiration of two young art students, Jack Brody and Giuseppe. They followed him after this event and chronicled his life of failure, from pursuing his dream of becoming a Hollywood lighting guy to building murderous robots for a pizza place. Their published book, The Chronology of Tony, went viral and immediately hit the NY Times best seller list. And stayed there forever. When the Religion of the Almighty Tony took over the world, a prophecy was declared that the world will end in 2200 on the first of the year. The Religion of the Almighty Tony has stolen the Cosmic Toothbrush, which holds the universe together, to ensure the completion of their master's prophecy. The last of the Hoomans are myself, the dashingly handsome Hank Handsomeman, and the much less great scientist Nora. We are the only humans not in the Religion of the Almighty Tony. So they exiled us. In space. Where no one can see my gorgeous face. It is a true travesty, but with the universe collapsing I guess it's a close second. I now see the light. Almighty Tony forgive me.

Wednesday, August 27 - Aminals

Have you ever been caught in a traffic jam? Are you constantly late for work or school because of freeway congestion? What if I told you you could beat the rush hour by trampling over it with your very own BRONTOSAURUS? How could this be, you ask? Through extensive genetic engineering we have created Ride-osaurs!! Why sit in a highway traffic jam when you can crush cars and innocent bystanders alike on top of your very own Triceratops?! FOUR WORDS. RIDE-OSAURS ARE THE FUTURE!!! Fly over city streets on your Pterodactyl, or have your raptor eat your jerk boss. Because its not murder if nature takes its course. Its the circle of life. People are born, people are eaten by prehistoric beasts, people die. See. Circle of life. Just like the Lion King. But with dinosaurs. And much more death and destruction. But mostly dinosaurs. Like what you're hearing? Damn right you do! Call and get your Ride-osaur today!!

Monday, August 25 - Character

It's been ahh... about 3 years since I moved out of the forest. I roamed around for a while, abandoned hospitals, schools, even a carnival for a while. The scare business was always lucrative, ya know? You find these teens sneaking around the forest at night, so you put up a few notes and scare the bejeezus out of 'em. I was a professional horror monster for about 10 years. Then I just got washed up, old news. New monsters took the limelight, mutated monsters chasing amnesiacs, malfunctioning animatronics, mental patients who take over the asylum. Horror kinda took off for the future and left me behind, I guess. But it was a good run, had some good times.  Used to chase this guy every week, he had this stupid pink moustache. Last I saw him he was leaving my forest for the decrepit pizza place with the bad animatronics. But I'm not bitter, no. I'll admit my first several weeks were spent in the bottom of a bottle in a really sketchy bar, but then I picked myself up, cleaned up, dusted off the old suit, and now I'm here.

Would you mind telling us what you do now Mr. Slenderman?

Oh yes, of course. I am now the District Branch Manager of Intel Computer Systems here in the San Fernando Valley area. My father was proud to hear I had given up scaring to actually use my degree in Microcomputer Engineering.

Thank you for your time Mr. Slenderman. We will be right back with more The Fall of The Slender Man right after these messages.

Friday, August 22 - Wacky Words

I don't even know where to start.

Here I am in Creative Writing class trying to write something and I have to use two words 10 times each. 10 times. Like what? And the words I got are equally troublesome. Petrifying and flirtatious. Again dear reader, I say like what? Petrifying and flirtatious? What even? How does one even fabricate something that can use those two words 10 times each. Petrifying and flirtatious. Twenty words in this thing have to be petrifying and flirtatious. I have to say petrifying and flirtatious ten times each in this blog entry. I don't even think any situation in life could use petrifying and flirtatious that many times. Anyone who would use petrifying and flirtatious that many times I would think either they have a very limited vocabulary of rather specialized words, or they are just crazy people. In any case, who would ever use the words petrifying or flirtatious that many times? It's unnecessary. If I were talking to someone and they used petrifying and flirtatious that many times first I would probably be like "Hey, I get it, petrifying and flirtatious, I understood the first ten times you said it." Is this what I've come to? Writing nonsense with two dumb words twenty times? I refuse to conform. I'm not even going to do do it. Nope. I quit.

Thursday, August 21 - Something

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Wednesday, August 20 - Alter Ego

I sit in a dimly lit room, tablet in hand watching the security cameras. This is some pretty high tech for a security manager at a kids pizza place. To my left and right are electronically sealed security doors, with security lights in the halls. Only thing was all this tech used a lot of electricity, and there was only so much stored up from the backup generator. I check the tablet cams again as the phone rings. A prerecorded message from the previous security manager plays.

Hey, welcome to your first night on the job. There's really nothing security wise to worry about here. Although the animatronics do get a bit... quirky at night. But hey if I had to sing the same stupid songs for 20 years, I'd be a bit quirky too. But yeah they go kinda roam free around the restaurant, something about their servos locking up, but you shouldn't have any problems with them... uhh but don't let them see you. If they did see you they probably wont recognize you as a person, they'd probably think you were a robotic skeleton without it's costume on. And because that's not allowed here, they would uhh... try to force you into a bear suit. Which wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for all the wires and gears, the only part of you that would ever see the light of day again would be your eyes and teeth being pushed out the front of the mask, but I wouldn't worry about that. You'll be fine, just make sure to conserve your power, and make sure to check your cameras so you know where they are.

I hear a loud banging on a metal door in the recording.

Oh. Yeah if you don't mind maybe checking the suits before you leave, i think I'm gonna try to wait it out in there. It can't be so bad right? Okay well I don't think i have too much more time. Good luck.

The message finished and all the lights went out. I had used all the power leaving the tablet on and listening to the message. It's okay though. There are two lights outside the security door, coming from lifeless eyes. They'd found me. But it's okay, it cant be that bad, right?

Tuesday, August 19 - Scariest Place

This world has a plethora of terror-inducing locales, but the centerfold of horrors, the most disturbing of establishments, has been shrouded in mystery, a wool pulled over the eyes of humanity in an attempt to hide the truth from those who find bliss in ignorance.  The stench of a thousand dying dreams, the dark corridors that threaten to suffocate you in blackness. The disturbing creatures in the darkness, their matted fur and lifeless eyes as they close in to seal your doom. All the while singing the song of their people, a song meant to bring joy now has a much more sinister meaning indeed.

My dear reader, I only intend to remove the proverbial wool from your eyes and allow you to see the true horrors that lie within.

There is one in every city, in every state of this nation.

Truly truly I say to you oh brothers, no longer be fooled by the deceit, and see that true horror in this world is never truly felt until you yourself experience it firsthand.

These are the horrors of a Chuck E. Cheese after hours.

Thursday, August 14 - Gross

The best experience of my life has got to be the time I tried calamari.  

Just the texture of crunching through the fibrous membranes and the sensation of the suction cups holding to the back of my throat for dear life is unparalleled in any other life experience.  If you have not indulged in this delicacy of only the finest of societies members, please allow me to try to give due diligence to the fine culinary creation that is the calamari cuisine.  Imagine yourself, in the dirtiest of beach bar shacks the Gold Coast has to offer.  The kinds where you can smell next weeks fish tacos fumigating beneath the pier. Yes dear reader, that's the kind. Imagine sitting in a lavish and luxurious wooden bench at a table that can only be described as veteran of early morning drunkard ralf-fest. Take in the smells as the 5 Star staff covered in about as much bodily filth as they are tattoos and rasta colored attire deliver to you the plate of calamari that you so craved. Regardless of whether you would rather have the calamari placed into a dirty shoe and served with a side of dirty band-aids, you understand because this restaurant, as high class as it is, is still a moderately casual dining experience. As you bite into the first of the arms of the sea creature nightmares are made of, you begin formulating the experience occurring inside your mouth. It feels as if you have placed a piece of tire rubber covered in hot organs of a diseased mountain lemur into your mouth, covered in tiny vacuums, and cooked in a dirty microwave. Each suction cup bursts with flavor as you chew, a taste described as sea water and orphan tears. After you have finished your meal, you look back and reflect on what a pleasurable experience you have had, and admire the simplicity of the dirty beach shack, and the colors in the stains on the floor. Is that one blood? Probably. After receiving your check and paying, you go back to your condo where you sit on your couch and pray for death as your stomach tries to escape your body before you can put anything that horrific inside it again.

10 out of 10. Would eat again.

Try some

Wednesday, August 13 - Animal

So this is my life.

Every day it's the same thing. Wake up, swim to shore. My day is usually pretty standard. I get to the mainland and hang out with my chaps. Sometimes we will get into a little scuffle, knock down a couple buildings in the process, perhaps level half of Tokyo, but its all a part of life.

Godzilla doesn't have it as easy as you think.

So today me and the lads were hanging out by the beach, as we Kaiju monsters tend to enjoy doing, when all of a sudden I saw something down by King Ghidra's foot. It was a human. A HUMAN. Humans are nightmare fuel. Ughhh so creepy and gross. Sometimes they get so big you have to hit them with a newspaper plant or a shoe store. No way am I going to step on one that size.  Ghidra noticed the human and freaked out, launching a laser beam into the side of a tower. We all hid behind the lighthouse and wondered what to do about it. I went and found a cup and put it on top of the human. I would deal with that thing later.  That's when the jets started circling. Gigan swatted a few out of the air whilst repeating "Eww" over and over again. A helicopter flew past my head and I didn't see where it went, and then a wave of crippling fear and dread came over me.

SCREEEEEEEONK

In my horrified scream I breathed a beam of atomic energy onto the beach, turning it to glass and the humans to crisps. I turned my back to Ghirda.

IS IT ON ME??

Ghidra looked me over and assured me that it was not in fact on me. Great, now I'm gonna be paranoid all day about having humans crawling all over me. Fantastic. So now as you can see, it's really hard being a giant Kaiju in a human infested world.

Being Godzilla sucks.

Inspiration