I finally completed my character outline after 82 years. Please read.

Wacky Doodle – Always whipping it out and masturbating, the one thing he wants is to finally find his lost towel.

Penelope Vagina – Wacky’s love interest, the only thing she is interested in is swooning over people who aren’t Wacky.

Marco Daniels – Totally is a dick who Wacky hates. He wants to have intimate relations with Penelope, even though he doesn’t deserve to.

Prick McKenzie – Person who bullied Wacky as a kid and is now a Dragon that Wacky must defeat so that he can finally claim Penelope as his property.

Yogurt Kunt – Girl who rejected Wacky and is now just a giant biznatch who Wacky doesn’t like. She wants to pretend she doesn’t love Wacky, even though she obviously does, and only left him because she was intimidated by how great he was.

Towel Master – Wacky’s best friend, who’s always there for him no matter what. Wacky loves TM and always wants to be with him over the company of any other person ever, living or dead. Towel wants to love Wacky, but he can’t feel emotion because he is a towel.

So basically the plot is that they all have to fight and shit in an arena that’s actually in Outer Space. I’ve developed this idea over 82 years, so I know it’s really good. Wacky basically finds out that Prick is cheating in the fight, because he’s a dragon and that’s not allowed. He then beats Prick, and then Penelope tears her clothes off at the very sight of him as the ultimate victor. Then Marco is like oh no and starts to try to get intimate with Penelope Vagina, but Wacky fights him to the death and wins and the Prick, who is a dragon, is now on Wacky’s side. Yogurt tries to defeat Wacky, but Wacky seduces her and then she and Penelope have a threesome while Prick the Dragon watches. Then Towel Master comes and cleans everything up and then they go home and live happily ever after.

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So what do you think? Pretty amazing, right?

Two Legs and a Biscuit, Please

“It’s too hard to form an opinion, so I neglect to.”

“What? That’s an opinion right there.”

“I’m not going to argue.”

 

***

 

Free will is the determination of one’s self. It’s possible to possess it as much as it is possible to lack it. The destination of tomorrow is in the hands of many things, and the individual is only one of those things. To affect a decision that changes the course of one’s life is to sway the river with a twig.

 

***

 

Barbara is lacking in self worth. Her desk is a second home and she’s forgotten what her first looks like. The entirety of her life has been built toward furthering her career. The sports cars, the parties, and the pools were only the symptoms of that same drive that kept her in the office, unable to enjoy them.

Death comes slow for Barb. Some people, he just right up and comes when you least expect it. One moment Bobby is climbing the tree, and the next his blood is spilled from the fall.

Barb knows he’s coming and of course she knows that she can’t do anything about it. Life, however, must mean something, and if she’s built her life around her work, then her work must have meaning.

She won’t be home tonight. Order some chicken.

Poetry, I guess

At times, tainted life of light will shatter.

When it hits some undiscovered matter,

Say the ground, or a plane, or even you,

darkness comes, and you’ll wonder what to do.

Your life is like that short, or long, lived light.

Nothing matters if your day is so bright

that, should the days of others be clouded,

your joy makes all fear become unshrouded.

Out in the open with nowhere to hide

exists the choice of letting fear decide.

Only when light reveals an empty night,

can we put aside our near-constant fright.

 

 

______________________________

 

I have no idea what makes a good poem…

The Dancing Queen

“It’s a running joke around here that Jocelyn is the party monkey,” Jim said. The wide grin on his wide face reminded me of an ape.

I didn’t understand, so I just chuckled a bit and tried to similarize my facial expression.

“She’s always…’monkeying around,’ if you know what I mean,” he said with his smile that might have been the dreamwork of some drunk animator. “You know, with the boss’ wife.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, like she’s….you know…” His laugh was like a pig drowning in the mud that it so desired.

“I thought, you know, the boss is kinda like a” (don’t say religious) “straight edge kinda guy.”

“Oh yeah, but they’re into some wild stuff, man.” Jim’s eyes extended over his face and dripped with hate. “Wild shit that you would never dream of.”

 

+++ (where is the asterisk?)

 

I always thought that dreams were just in our heads. Like if you thought of something real in your head, even though that was real, it’s still just a dream ’cause it’s just in your head. Sometimes, and I think we have to give ourselves some evolutionary credit (for whatever that means), that’s not true. What’s in our head does exist in the outside world, it’s just that you have to prove it. Look at Einstein and how those observers somewhere in Africa (a continent that my education excuses me from the direct knowledge of its geography) saw those stars during the solar eclipse.

You just have to have a good argument. I’ve never been good at arguing.

 

+++

 

“I like to dance and get drunk,” Jocelyn said. Jim chugged a handle of whiskey in the corner of the bar. Everyone else was just drinking or dancing, and Jocelyn was dancing in front of me. Like I knew how to handle that. “You want to dance?”

“I’ve, uh…I guess…dancing is uh, you know…” Dancing is a way to prove your prowess in athleticism to those around you. It’s a fluke of it looking a lot like fighting, but only a few people fight nowadays. “It’s fun.”

“You like to dance.”

Isn’t it alone?

No…no, ha. It hears all the things listen.

One wonders what it says. It wants to be so still.

It’s in the woods under the rocks by the trees and it hears the forest. The forest speaks through the animals in the woods.

The sky even sings, and it hears this and shudders and shuts down, perpetuating the dark myth that the damned are tortured. It is torture, and wouldn’t you know that it doesn’t care?

It doesn’t give a FUCK! A single one rests beneath its hairy, muddy, bloody paws that tore through the winter’s snow-covered floor with such excitement for the freedom that it never found, never saw.

It trickles down the back of your hand and into the sink, unloved and never found.

It dies down in the corner of his room.

But it isn’t alone! All the voices tell it not to let alone.

All the voices tell it to go alone.

Tell it to go away.

Go away.

A Dull Day

He waited for the passing clouds to reveal the sun. The solar panel that fed the cell that charged his rifle was missing all that energy. His target was only a few miles away, an easy enough shot for Gaul Galen.

A click and the rustle of dry grass behind him. The lack of wind was glaring.

“Ah, Gaul, if it isn’t you,” Pretorius Flux said. Gaul didn’t have to turn around; he recognized the gravely voice of the gizormak.

“Damnit, Flux, come on, we’re going after the same target here,” Gaul said. Each word brought a deeper sensation of pressure against the back of his skull. His life was in the hands of someone who didn’t know the difference between an asteroid and a comet. “Don’t be stupid.”

“But if you kill him, then I only get half the reward.”

“We only split it if we both do the work, dumbass.” Gaul pushed the weapon away, stood, and had his own rifle trained on Flux in a single moment, a point in time. The gizormak’s shape was that of a blob that held its weapon in slushy extensions of its body. Three big bulbs rested on the top of three stalks, his only recognizable feature. “You be the bait. I’ll take the shot.”

“Your weapon is not yet charged,” Flux said, the words seemingly coming from somewhere deep within the bulbous body. “You think I am that stupid?”

“Stupid enough to let me stand. Again, you be the bait.”

Flux squinted, his three eyes shrinking in size rather than using eyelids to do so. Apparently, he was in deep thought, a rare thing for a gizormak. “Fine, fine.”

Gaul shook his head and settled back into firing position. As Pretorious Flux sauntered off, he wondered how long it would be until he could just go home.

The sun was out after the gizormak had traveled only five hundred yards. In another five hundred, he was dead.

Gaul blew the smoke from the muzzle of his gun and settled back. A few more hours, his target would be dead, and he’d have the full reward.