Babies are cute. They really are. Perhaps I'm blessed (blinded?) by my own child, but between the naggings, the crying, the dirty diapers, babies have the most innocent moments. For instance, falling asleep.
eyes wide open
eyes start to droop a little
little smiley faces ensue
brow creases
eyes flutter open
lather, rinse, repeat.Current Mood: serene Current Music: Collection of Classical (to make baby sleep ofcourse) |
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"It was the bottom of the half and there were three innings to go. All we needed was this punt to determine if a free throw was possible. Coach called for a hat trick, but I knew that would result in a side out, so I waved off the umpire and kicked the ball to the half back. It was caught perfectly and he ran the ball half court before he did a high lob to the free safety. But the opposing team's goalie got in the way and it was in interception. End of the period. The score was 30-Love." |
Okay short little flashback: Christmas Day, 2005, Las Vegas.
It's after dinner on Christmas Day and we're in Las Vegas (don't ask, there are lots of varied reasons for this.)
We're at the Sahara and I decide I want to play some craps. I put down my $60 (yeah, big spender) and start making some bets. Things 'fair', I'm getting entertained, that's the important part (where's my drink? damn, slow waitresses...)
The dice come around to me and I start rolling, first roll a '7' on the come-out, (pays the line on a come-out roll, if you didn't know). Happens again for the second and third rolls and I'm feeling pretty good about the dice at this point. I roll a six or an eight for the fourth roll and the mark is set. People start placing their 'odds' bets and game continues. Few more rolls, some money paid out, I roll the mark, everyone is happy. Next come-out roll. A few more sevens before setting a mark, this time the mark is a four or a five, again, I can't remember which. A couple more rolls, etc.
Then someone declares loudly, "Hard eight". For those who don't know, a hard eight is when you roll two fours on the dice, (there's a hard four, a hard six, and a hard ten as well). The hard eight pays 10:1. Pretty good payout, and the bet stays until a soft-eight is rolled, at which point, you lose the bet. Anyway, a couple of people think that this is a good idea and so more hard eight bets are made.
I keep rolling, things are still going well, I haven't rolled the point yet so all bets are still active on the table, then I roll the hard eight, everyone wins. Yay! Everyone makes new hard eight bets. Two more rolls, another Hard Eight. The crowd is delighted.
"Hard eight for the dealers!" This means that someone is putting money down int he dealer's favor, if the bet wins, the dealers for that table in the last 24 hours split the winnings as a 'tip'. (You can out-right tip the dealers too, works out the same way, just that if you bet, and it wins, they have more to split.)
Any way, a few more rolls, whee! Another hard eight. I'm definitely doing 'something' right, the crowd is ecstatic (at this point people have been putting $10-50 down for the hard eight bets... That's $100-$500 pay-outs!)
"Five-dollar hard eight for the shooter!" Wait, what? Someone is putting money down for ME to win? I can do that!
No, no I can't. I immediately roll a '7'. Since the point was set, the bets are lost, the table is cleared of all money, and no one is paid. Dice move on to the next person. C'est la vie.
Moral of the story? Don't bet on the shooter.
I soon after end up giving all my money ($60, remember?) to the casino and move one. My wife is playing Video Poker near by. I sit down and play a few hands. Within five minutes I go from my initial $20 investment on the machine to cashing out at $70. $50 ahead for the machine, only $10 behind for the night, it's a good day. I call it quits and we head back to the room to get some sleep. |
... I don't even know how to finish that sentence... let me just explain.
This morning I paid homage to the traditional sbux that I frequent. I left a crane, as I sometimes do, and this one sbux barista chick is totally impressed. I go to work and be on my happy little day.
This afternoon I decide I need a fix because it's going to be a long night. I return to the place of worship and she's still working. Appt'ly, she and the other (male and female) baristas have been playing with the crane all day. As she hands me my drink though, she says something that totally throws me.
"We've been having all sorts of fun with that crane, I think I'm going to take it home with me. I really like it. You know, I'm not busy for New Years."
I was about to quip "You can join us over at " but before I could utter a word, my thought process shifted gears and started screaming "She's actually hitting on you!" Which, ofcourse, caused a system reboot. Fortunately I had brought a co-worker with me who caught my 'stutter' and cleaned up conversation right quickly.
All the way back to the office I'm just stunned. "Uhm, that wasn't right. I hope I didn't hurt her feelings. I totaly wasn't expecting that." (Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!)
--Stunned.Current Mood:  shocked |
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Bored
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Dec. 5th, 2005 @ 09:00 pm
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How to fsck-up a sbux barista:
Order an 'Iced Venti non-fat Mocha Valencia with three pumps each of vanilla and peppermint, and with percent foam.'
.
.
Then complain when it isn't mixed enough... |
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Sesame Seeds are wet.
I have this packet of sesame seeds from a noodle bowl and I apparently forgot to put them in once.
Anyway, I decided 'This looks like the right size to kill someone who is allergic to sesame seeds.'
So I started mashing them in their little plastic bag/envelope....
Now it's a little pasty in there.
because....
Sesame Seeds are wet.
It makes sense really, I mean, if you put a bowl of sesame seeds into the microwave, they pop and explode.
I wish roaches would do that.
I guess roaches aren't wet.
Oct. 24th, 2005 @ 11:15 pm
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| » "Oooh look what I'm driving!" |
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Okay, so I'm driving my way to work today and as I pull off the freeway I see this huge, oversized, pickup truck. Now, I'm not talking Ford F250 or 'some other large, functional' pickup, I'm talking about a large, bubbly looking, pickup truck. Probably gets <10mpg and has no bed whatsoever. It does appear to be some sort of an extended cab though. As I pull up alongside it, I realize that this is a Lincoln Mark LT. "Light Truck"? Not sure what the whole LT thing is, but my point is, it's a Lincoln. Now when 'status symbol' car companies (Lincoln, Oldmobile, Mercedes, etc) started releasing SUV's, it made sense, the SUV is the new status symbol, it's big, it owns the road, it's what people want. But then Oldsmobile made their Escalade XLT, the SUV Pickup Truck, probably as competition to the Chevrolet Avalanche, or that GMC TrucUV that has identity problems. Now, it seems, that Lincoln doesn't want to be left out of the game. They produce an oversized, (likley) underpowered, no cargo space, pickup truck that is likely overpriced as well. "Oh yes, I'm a 6-figure salary yuppie who couldn't live a 10-pound briefcase let alone touch 2x4's or anything else you'd put in the bed of a pickup truck. I just want to prove that I can pay $80k for a truck that's only worth $30k at best in materials and has less power than the $20k trucks that you can buy from those 'mediocre' dealerships. Because, you know, I can afford to pay upwards of $5 a mile that I drive the beast.. *sigh* I want one.
Oct. 7th, 2005 @ 02:00 pm
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| » A meeting takes place... |
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Shanna walked into the taproom. No heads turned, most were deep in discussion. Few were silent, those that were seemed to be concentrating on the stairs up to the small inn's rooms. This seemed curious, as though something had recently occurred. The bartender was cleaning mugs and the wait staff was dutifully tending to the customers. Shanna's companion was oblivious to the scene and trotted up to the bar.
"Hey, a pint of ale for my friend and a plate of whatever passes as slop for me." The young blade sat and motioned for Shanna to take a seat with him.
"Janus, you know better than that." A quick glance at an empty booth. "We'll be over there, if you would be so kind as to bring my friend's order to us quickly, we'll be sure to tip generously." Shanna pulled the fighter-in-training by the cloak and dragged him to the specified booth. "You my young apprentice, are not yet sharp enough to sit at a bar. What did you notice when you walked in? The barmaid's bodice? Or did you notice the ranger with a hard glare directed at the stairs?"
"Wha? What are you talking about? This is 'Safe Haven', No one can lift arms here, the whole place is under some enchantment."
"Enchantments can't prevent a man from plotting. There are things that can yet be done without edge of steel or minor cantrips." Shanna looked over to the door. "From here we have a good vantage point of most of the room, and most importantly, the main entrance. I'm expecting a few friends to join us shortly and I'd hate to disappoint them by being caught unawares."
"Friends? You told me we were going 'on a mission of great import', not out to toss some back with a few friends." Janus pouted as a friendly barmaid brought their food and drink.
"That'll be two slivers." She said with a smile.
"Janus, give the good wench a gold." Janus became slack-jawed.
"A gold? She just said 'two silv'" he stopped as he was struck by the icy coldness of his tutor's stare.
"A gold, of course, 'never be stingy with something you earned, always value that which you've learned'. I still don't know what that means." Janus fished about his person seeking a hidden pocket. "There you go miss, thank you kindly."
"The barmaid took the gold and dropped it down her bodice, Let me know if there's anything else."
"There is one thing," Shanna looked up and around the woman who brought their food. "Can you please direct the two who just entered to our table?" Janus craned his neck around to get a look.
"She looks just like you! A sister? A twin? I had no idea. You're like, wow."
"Hush now Janus, zip your lip and try not to look so green. Yes, she's my sister, and she's half of the reason we're here."
The lass did as she was bid and directed Anna and her companion Colin to the table. Colin took the same approach as Janus and did a double take of the sisters. "Anna, it is good to see you again." Shanna broke the bewildered silence. "Still taking pups under wing I see."
"Apparently the same can be said of you. It seems that sword-for-hire work still suits you." Anna smiled as she sat beside Janus, across from her sister. "Colin, have a seat, meet my sister Shanna."
"Shanna and Anna, parent weren't too creative were they?" Colin quipped as he did as requested.
Both sisters in unison responded, "You should feel bad for my brother." both smiled as they said it.
Sep. 5th, 2004 @ 11:00 pm
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| » All this for a flagon of mead? |
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The mage stepped in with a flourish. "Barkeep! Two rooms and a flagon of mead!" he called out and proceeded to a table.
After a brief silence the man behind the bar responded. "We don't serve your kind here. You best leave before someone here with half a brain comes to their senses and takes care of you for me." Several of the inn's occupants moved for their weapons, but none drew them.
The bewildered mage looked about, "I don't understand, you can't mean that you don't serve those who practice the mystical arts, I see several other here who share my passion."
One such person stood, "It's true, I practice magic, but I don't believe our passions are the same."
What do you mean? We both are accomplished in our field, we both strive to perfect our work."
"That may be true, but I don't seek to pervert nature to accomplish this."
"Pervert nature, what ever are you talking about?" the new comer stammered.
The barkeep had gone back to filling mugs and working the bar. "Your illusions don't work here. The entire inn has the protection of a few enchantments."
The intruder looked down to himself. "Hrmm. Pretty powerful protections."
"Necessary considering my location and my clientele." The barkeep continued his work, seemingly unconcerned. "No magic is allowed, and I trust people to keep their weapons at their sides."
"Okay, so you know me to be a perversion of nature. No worries, I have no intention of causing problems or harm to anyone."
"Still don't serve your kind." The barkeep continued to care for his customers, most of whom were still hands at the ready.
"Really? And how many times in your past have the undead come in asking for service." The lich crossed his arms as if in confidence.
"Doesn't matter. I don't want to serve you. Your presence is making the rest of my customers uncomfortable. I'm sure you can understand the economics of the situation."
"'Economics of the situation', you've an education in that head of yours." The mummy-like entity stood up and began to walk out.
The barkeep came around and approached. "I'll tell you what, you head upstairs and take the third room, and I'll bring you that mead."
"You're willing to trust this abomination of nature not to blow up your inn?" The lich turned with what must have been a look of incredulity on his deteriorated face.
"I have faith in the magical wards that protect this place, your magical items won't work here and neither will your magic. There's a reason this place is named 'Safe Haven'." The barkeep walked over to the lich and directed him to the stairs.
"I thank you for the room, but, since my ruse is up, there's really no need for the drink. I appreciate your hospitality and will be sure to abide by rules of good conduct." The lich began to walk up the stairs. "I expect some company, of the living nature. If a redheaded adventuress comes looking for Tersamis, please direct her to my room."
The barkeep walked back over to his place. "I meant what I said, all of you, this is 'Safe Haven' for a reason, don't make me enforce the rules." He pointed to a plaque on the wall in which was etched one rule: 'Those who cross me, cross no one ever again.'
Aug. 8th, 2004 @ 08:00 pm
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| » Dinner with the enemy.... |
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"Bon Appetite" The undead sorcerer motioned everyone to eat. Anna looked over the table no one here seemed to be here against their will. She and her comrades were joined by several others. Various races, professions, all of them seemingly as bewildered as herself.
"Why are we here? Why is this the first time I'm seeing this room? I don't remember coming in here." A muscle-bound buffoon down the table.
"I think it's obvious, we've been kidnapped by our host over there. Probably teleported directly from wherever we were previously." Another individual down the table.
"That doesn't answer the 'why' though." Anna felt it was her turn to pipe in. "I think that our, host, owes us at least that much." All eye turned to the lich at the end of the table.
Jul. 25th, 2004 @ 08:30 pm
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| » (No Subject) |
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"Sunrise, it's beautiful. A pity it's merely a painting. it would be so much easier if I really couldn't see another sunrise." The lich continued down the hall stopping at the balcony entrance. "Vampires have it so easy! 'Sleep during the day, Stay away from the sunlight.'.I despise them."
"I don't get it. What's so painful about the sunrise?"
"When i was alive, I would rejoice in the sunrise. Worship and praise." The lich continued to reminisce. "it was the joy and focal point of every day. Since becoming an undead sorcerer, things are well, different. My undead eyes see things differently."
"Hmmmm... You know, I wondered about that." Anna got up from her seat.
Jul. 18th, 2004 @ 08:30 pm
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| » ...And here we see... |
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“Here we have a beautiful depiction of a Heroine battling a cyclops single-handedly.”
“She wasn’t alone.”
The tour guide looks through the crowd of sheep that make up this tour group trying to find the feminine voice that so rudely interrupted his droning speech.. “Excuse me?”
“I said, she wasn’t alone.” A young woman with tight red curls and a rather familiar-looking, prudish, upturned nose spoke. She was staring intently at the image.
“I assure you ma’am. as this rendition showed, she was quite alone.” The older gentleman straightened his museum uniform and puffed out his chest in an effortto show superiority.
“I know what the holo shows, and I’m telling you, she wasn’t alone.” Her eyes seemed to scan the image, looking for some detail.
“Miss, unless you are willing to share a personal perspective on this....”
“I actually would like to share my ‘personal perspective’. You see this tree, it wasn’t there I think the artist put it there after the fact to cover it up.”
“To cover it up... to cover what up?” The guide, now properly intrigued joined the red head in examining the holographic portrait.
“You see here, behind the tree, there should be a shadow of that tree, but no, no shadow.” Her hands were pointing to the tree and lack of shadow in question, but her eyes were still wildly searching the image for something else.
“That might have been an artifact of the digitizing process.” The tour guide mumbled, clearly not sure of the discrepancy himself.
“No that’s no artifact of digitizing, I saw the original once and it was quite the same.”
“Now miss, I must argue that point. The original has been lost for hundreds of years.” The guide regained some of his composure as he returned to familiar ground. “There was a great earthquake in France and The Louvre was the epicenter...”
“Yeah, 275 years ago, a 12.6 on the Richter Scale, right? Funny though, no volcanic activity in the area, no tectonic plates, no explosions, well, no physical explosions. Took me the better part of fifty years to study the ‘sciences’ that this world came up with to be able to spout just that much to you. I’ve devoted the last two hundred years of my time here trying to figure out why I’m still here.” Still scanning the image, the woman, who couldn’t have been older than mid-twenties, droned on. “It wasn’t until I finished learning geology that I realized, I wasn’t aging. Well, at least not physically. I seem to be growing in power by leaps and bounds, but I’m sure you’d never understand that...”
At this point, much of the crowd lost interest, some of them wandered off in other directions, and others seemed to grow agitated at the delay. The few that were nearest the woman, apparently older and wiser than her looks would lead one to believe, became most interested in this lesson in history from a first person perspective. The tour guide stammered in disbelief.
“You mean to say, that you were alive when The Louvre collapsed?” The wide-eyed orator seemed to have lost complete control of his composure.
“Actually, what I was trying to imply is that I was there. Not only was I there, but I was actually the cause of said metaphysical explosion which was the true force behind the earthquake.” The calm reply drew several gasps from the people closest, As one, the entire crowed stepped back. Still scrutinizing the image, the woman paid no heed.
A bolt of inspiration struck the dilettante, who, after running the museum tours for nearly a decade had never questioned the image before him. “You’re her! You look familiar because I’ve seen your face dozens of times a day! Your hair is changed, your skin tone too.”
“Yes, yes. Cut the hair, it wasn’t fashionable anymore, and years of pouring over your books and later computers have made me miss the wonderful sun. Eating your junk food has also caused me to gain a pound or two, but you wouldn’t notice that from this poorly drawn piece of ‘art’.” The last word, spoken with noticeable disgust, hung in the air.
“This image was purported to be several hundred years old when it’s original was destroyed. The would make you nearly a century old!”
“Actually, the battle took place what I estimate to be four centuries ago, about 1090 A.D. I assure you, however, that at most I am only 400 years old. It’s a long story, don’t ask.” She poked her finger at a point in the image. “There! That’s what I’m looking for.” Everyone stepped forward for a closer look.
“I don’t see it, your finger is in the way.” Someone quipped in the background. The red-head moved her finger away slowly, never moving her eyes from the spot. “It looks like a speck of dust.” Retorted the same voice.
“That’s probably why I didn’t notice it back at The Louvre. I tell you, I stared at the painting for nearly two years. The guards there practically had a permanent chair for me. Never would let me get closer to the image though. Pity, the original might still exist had they let me near it for just 15 minutes.
”It’s just a speck of dust! Probably an arti....“
”As I told you before, there are no artifacts from the digitizing process or the replicas that this piece was revitalized from. That’s a shadow. A shadow I didn’t notice the day of the battle, a shadow that two years of careful examination from 50feet never revealed. Now let’s see. If the light show was going on here, and the sun was there, then this shadow was cast from that direction. Ah! that’s it, the clouds were in the way. I do remember it becoming cloudy shortly after Kezin cast that lightning bolt spell, must have been a magical
quirk. He never could get spell quite right. Okay, now I know where it came from...“
”She’s a loon.“ The ancient woman spun around at a speed that belied her true age. ”I’d be careful who I called a loon.“ The man froze, his expression, one of sheer surprise permanently fixed for years to come, The museum’s next exhibit had just been born in the blink of an eye. Several people ran, others stared confoundedly at the hunk of marble that was, just moments ago, just another face in the peanut gallery.
”Okay, anyone else who wants to comment on my sanity, which admittedly, after 275 years, even I am starting to question, may well want to leave now. To the rest of you, I bid you adieu.“ She turned around, peered at the holographic image of herself in the image and then vanished.
The crowed, looked around, confused for a moment. Woman, hologram, projector pedestal and all, were gone. Slowly the crowed turned their focus to the marble statue in their midst.
”And this piece,“ The tour guide broke the silence that had fallen. ”Is of unknown origin.“ Not a single member of the crowed could explain the empty space against the wall where the subject of discussion was just focused, and all but the most cognitive of them had completely forgotten that any discussion had even taken place. To them, it never had, but that small handful of extremely perceptive, or perhaps sensitive, people knew, something was amiss.
Jul. 11th, 2004 @ 10:30 pm
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| » A race |
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"Hey! I'm falling behind!"
Colin turned around, "Well, then hurry up!"
"I don't think you understand. I'm not falling behind because I'm going slower than you. I'm falling behind because you're faster than me!"
Colin stopped, "What?" Anna took this opportunity to catch up and pass by Colin.
"Yeah, see, you stopped going faster than me, now I'm ahead of you."
"Oh you think that's funny do you?" Colin started huffing to catch up to the young adventuress. "You know, it's a good thing this isn't a race, or I'd have to dust you."
Anna closed her eyes for a moment as they ran, concentrating on the ground racing below them, she mentally pushes off. Gasping for breath as he runs along-side her Collin quips "Oh, is that how we're going to do it? Okay step aside."
"Uhm, if you haven't noticed, I'm not stepping on anything anymore." Concentrating on forward movement, Anna thrusts herself into the lead, gliding gently over the ground.
Colin stops for a moment, letting Anna get a good lead on him, draws upon a light deep within, and mentally throws the astral representation of his ego, out ahead of himself. His physical self begins to accelerate to keep up with his projected ego. An instant before his body catches up, he notes that his astral self seems to have stopped abruptly. Closing his mind's eye, he looks at the reality of his surroundings.
"You know Colin, I keep telling you, letting your ego get ahead of you will be your downfall." Anna stood in front of him, stil hovering above the ground, a faintly visible brick wall floating between them. "Now, what would you have done if I had summoned a cage rather than a wall? Astral projection is wonderful, but remember, if ever you're cut off from your..."
"Yes ma'am. Whatever you say ma'am. Excuse me, I have a question."
Anna let the spectral wall fade from existence and started drifting backwards towards their destination. "What is it Colin?"
Colin jogs forward to catch up, "What happens when the hunter becomes the hunted?"
"Well, Colin, if the hunter has done her homework, and understands her prey, then she would likely be prepared for any event." Anna pushes off the ground, mentally adjusting her altitude to the point where she's practically standing on the tree tops. She spies a wooden structure in the distance. "You know," Anna calls out to Colin, who began climbing a tree, "we're not that far off. I bet we could make it by nightfall if we quit fooling around."
Letting go of the tree, Colin drops back to the ground and breaks into a sprint. "You don't have to tell me twice, I'm going to sleep in a bed tonight." Anna skips along the tree tops, keeping the inn in sight.
Jun. 27th, 2004 @ 10:00 pm
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| » (No Subject) |
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Bartender! Another round for the table here!
Tanya, you've had three already, I don't think you shoul....
You know why there was an opening for a barkeep here?
[ Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<sorry [...] i'll>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.] Bartender! Another round for the table here!
Tanya, you've had three already, I don't think you shoul....
You know why there was an opening for a barkeep here?
<sorry about the incomplete thoughts here. I'll finish during the week, i promise>
Jun. 20th, 2004 @ 01:00 pm
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| » Chapter 2 |
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Let me tell you about this boy I love. He's about six feet tall has nice long straight hair and a killer smile. He's kind and generous, caring and supportive. He isn't some big hunk as most girls dream of, but he's what I want. Slim of build, tan of skin, kind at heart. He doesn't go bullying around, but he doesn't run from danger. He'll hold his ground and defend his friends. He's my dream come true. He's honest with me about everything. How he feels, what he's thinking, and what he wants. So much better than Brendon was.
"What are you writing?" He's standing right over me! Quick cover the book!
"Oh nothing. Just girl stuff."
"You keep a diary?"
"It's a collection of my thoughts thank you. It's only a diary if no one else is supposed to see it."
"Well then, can I see your thoughts?"
"No."
"It's a diary."
"It is not a diary!"
Jun. 13th, 2004 @ 08:45 pm
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| » Phoenix weather: Rain |
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(The following is an excerpt from an IM conversation. It has been modified for spelling and formatting. I also make no warranties of any real logic, after all, this is a rambling.)
[09/05/2003 07:10]
Top news yesterday in PHX: "It rained in some parts of Phoenix, up to 1.66 inches in some areas." I wish I was kidding.
10 pm news, it took up the first 5 minutes. That's a lot when you're talking about a 1/2 hour news program. Then they went over it again at the end during the weather segment! Reporters and everything!
"Lightning caused a fire just out side of town. It was brought under control rather quickly by the local Fire Departments, total damage estimated to less than an acre. In other news, a bomb went off in Israel. So Bob, what do you think about this rain we're having?"
"Well Julie, it's definitely wet. Some areas even had dime-sized hail."
"Jack?"
"Well Bob, you see hail forms when..." "Back to you Julie."
"Thank you Jack. It seems that the fire started by lightning might have been avoided if it had just been raining a little longer. Nearby residents have something to say about this, lets go to our on the spot reporter Jennifer Imanass."
"Thanks Julie. I have here a nearby resident who saw the fire start and has a few opinions on the matter."
"Dude, like the lightning was like, all over the place, and like it hit this tree, and it was like, wow! an explosion almost, the tree caught fire, and like the grass was all burning. But then, like, the fire people came, and they put it out with water... And I think that if the tree had been all wet before hand, and the grass too, like, the fire never would have started man..."
"And there you have it Julie, this fire might have been avoided if the tree and surrounding grass had been wet to start with. Back to you."
"That's great Jennifer, you keep up that dynamic investigative reporting. Later in the news, we'll discuss more as we go over valley weather. For now, let's go to a commercial break."
Jun. 6th, 2004 @ 09:15 pm
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| » Phoenix weather: Fog |
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(The following is an excerpt from an IM conversation. It has been modified for spelling and formatting. I also make no warranties of any real logic, after all, this is a rambling.)
[01/09/2003 09:28]
There's this bird, flying around, minding his own business. Suddenly, he comes upon this odd fog bank and is confused. He thinks to himself, "I thought I was in Arizona. What's this?" He doesn't think much more of it, and he flies into the fog bank. A few moments later, he's plummeting to the ground, and when he hits, the impact isn't that great, something has cushioned his fall. He's having trouble breathing, he stopped flapping his wings, while he's gasping for air he realizes, he can't breath because the FOG IS TOO DAMN THICK! as he gets some clean air from the surface into his lungs, he starts coughing. Huge pieces of fog are being spewed from his throat.
I swear, last night, in our sleep California finally fell off the continent. PHX is the new Bay Area. London is calling the new Governor of Arizona, complaining that just because we have the old London Bridge, it doesn't mean we can take their fog as well.
Jun. 6th, 2004 @ 09:00 pm
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| » And you thought things were bad for you... |
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She pondered the futility of her predicament. Birds are flying upside down, the trees are overhead, and the sound of a thousand waves crashing in her head. There was no doubt about it, she was hanging by her feet again. She panics briefly, rummaging through her scattered memories, trying to remember what got her into this predicament.
Jun. 6th, 2004 @ 08:45 pm
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| » Innocence |
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Innocent, that is want she wants you to think of her. A tool of destruction is what she tries so hard to hide. She has left more destruction in her wake that she cares to remember. She has caused more pains and hurt than a single person should be allowed to cause. Some call her evil incarnate, some call her a harbinger of things to come, I call her beauty. Her ways may not be nice, her thoughts may not be pleasant, her actions may not be caring, but her style and movements are pure beauty to me. The way she holds her self when people know of her. The way she completes her duty with grace. The way she cries for every soul she kills. It's beauty.
Jun. 6th, 2004 @ 08:30 pm
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| » A curse? |
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Her curse was now obvious. She was never to be normal again. But what of the benefits? Surely her new found powers would be able to balance out the bad? She was now ultimate power. She was the single most fearsome person on the planet. Nothing could defeat her. But was it worth it? She would never be able to be loved by another again. Always to be viewed as a beast or a monster. Something no longer human. She still stood for good in the land and wanted what was best for everyone. But people wouldn't understand anymore. Humans look at the outside before viewing the inside. They don't care if you're a cause of good. If you looked hideous you were hideous. Now she was hideous to look at. Her skin, her features, everything about her was inhuman. She was no longer the beautiful person she once was. She had paid the price for her power.
Jun. 6th, 2004 @ 08:15 pm
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