Tuesday 30 July 2013

Thing 34: A cockroach at the Roosevelt

Okay, friends! I think it's about time I actually wrote something on here.

Thing 34: A cockroach at the Roosevelt

So apparently the Roosevelt is a hotel. Knowing that, let's go!

---------------------------

"Right this way, Mr. Smythe."

Mr. Smythe smiled and bowed repeatedly as he followed the well-dressed stewart through the ornate halls of the Roosevelt Hotel. The plush, familiar carpet felt foreign through the polished shoes and silk socks he now wore. He tried his best to not look uncomfortable as he let the steward guide him to his room.

It was a short walk to room 508, with Mr. Smythe's eyes darting around in curious wonder all the while. His head shot back and forth across the hall as he took it all in. Things were much smaller than he was used to, but he still found it difficult to capture all of the details within his limited field of view. He wanted as much detail as possible for what was to come.

When they arrived the disappointed steward was dismissed with another congenial bow. Mr. Smythe closed the door behind him, eager to begin.

Well, he thought, that was easy enough.

His disguise was clearly sufficient, though he found this form to be woefully limited. How the humans could bear to live this way was beyond him.

In any case, if all went according to plan they wouldn't be alive much longer.

Mr. Smythe removed his clothing as quickly as he could, anxious to be free of his prison. His excitement grew as he folded his suit neatly on the bed. The tailored outfit was imperative to the second phase of his plan, so he didn't want to take any chances with damaging it.

He took a few steps back, standing stark naked in the middle of the room. With a deep breath, he began to change.

His pink skin began to darken as his exoskeleton reformed. Familiar appendages sprouted from his sides, and where once there were hands and feet vicious claws now sat. His shoulder blades contorted as wings split through his rapidly disintegrating skin.

With but a thought, Mr. Smythe was gone. In the room now stood Zekaract, lord of the roaches. He chittered in anticipation as he looked around the room.

It's time to take over the world.

Monday 29 July 2013

Thing 33: Tell the true story of a dramatic moment in your life, but weave in one secret and one lie.

This is my first entry written explicitly for the blog! I'll be following the same format, so I won't know that I'm writing about until I actually start. I find it forces me to be much more creative.

In any case, let's get this underway!

Thing 33: Tell the true story of a dramatic moment in your life, but weave in one secret and one lie.

Hmm... This is another particularly difficult one for me. I'm not sure which "dramatic moments" in my memory were imagined, and which were real. There are also only a few moments in my life that I would consider dramatic. The way my mind works makes picking something like that out of my memory very difficult.

The other aspect to this is that I'm generally a very honest and open person. As a result, I don't have any small secrets. Certainly none that I'd be willing to share in this context.

In any case, I don't really have a concept for this one, so I'll be skipping it.

Saturday 27 July 2013

Thing 32: Your friend calls to say she saw you in the back of a police car yesterday. What happened?

Originally posted to Facebook on July 25th, 2013.

Thing 32: Your friend calls to say she saw you in the back of a police car yesterday. What happened?

"You have some serious explaining to do."

I responded only with silence. The disappointment in Anna's voice was a crushing blow which caused an anxious lump to rise in my throat. She was my best friend, after all. How could I possibly explain this to her?

"Well? I'm waiting."

"I don't know what to say..."

Her exasperated sigh assaulted me through the receiver. It felt like a punch straight in the dignity. "You can start with why you were in that police car. You're not exactly the rebellious type, so what happened?"

It took me a moment to realize that my hand was shaking. Despite focusing all of my tattered willpower to the act, I could not stop its motion.

I was afraid.

I'd been frightened before, of course. There was a distinct sinking feeling when you thought your life was in danger, like what I experienced when I had to get a needle. But not even my phobia could have prepared me for what I was now experiencing.

But this was different. This wasn't a fear for my life, or some unexplained knot in my stomach. I knew exactly what was happening, and I knew that I could do nothing to stop it. I had done the one thing I had hoped against hope to never do; the one thing that I swore I would never let happen.

I had let her down.

A tear rolled down my cheek as I sat in silence. I could hear her soft breat through the receiver as she waited patiently for me to be ready. Even now she was compassionate. She knew how difficult this was for me, though I doubt she knew why.

Seeing the officer's disaproving glare abover me, I took a deep breath and swallowed the last shreds of my pride. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Dom, I --"

Her words were abruptly cut off as I hung up the phone. I couldn't bring myself to say it. Not to her. She was better off not knowing. As noble as my intentions were, what I had done was unforgivable, and she would be better off if she just forgot about me.

It would be hard at first, as close as we were, but in time she could fill my small void with joy that I could never bring her. In time, she would realize that I was nothing special.

I had killed a man, after all. There was no escaping that.

Story Challenge 3: A man beyond time

This Story Challenge was originally posted to Facebook in two parts on July 22nd, 2013. The base concept arose at a party a few weeks earlier, and I'm tremendously pleased with the end result. The five concepts I went with were:

- Weida fighting raccoons to save a hot dog stand
- "And then I realised, ____ burns!"
- The Time Warp
- A winged unicorn fighting a blue moose
- THE BEES

--------------

Weida smiled as the vendor handed him the hot dog. His empty stomach grumbled in anticipation at the sight of it. It had been a very long day, and he hadn't had the chance to eat at all.

In his current state this burnt sausage was practically a luxury.

He licked the saliva and took a deep breath as he raised the hot dog toward his face. He wanted to devour the thing whole, but people were watching, so he thought it best to restrain himself. His hands shook as he struggled to refrain from smashing it into his mouth. The quick pace at which it ascended was far too slow for his liking, and he felt as if an eternity would pass before he'd feel the satisfaction he so desperately sought.

Just as the hot dog was passing his lips, a flash of fur and claws appeared out of nowhere, and suddenly his food was gone. He stood in shock for a moment, unable to understand why he wasn't eating right now. His shock was abruptly broken by the scream of the hot dog vendor as an angry raccoon ripped out his throat.

They were everywhere. Raccoons -- shrouded in rage and splattered with the blood of the plaza's civilians.

Hundreds of hissing beasts began to circle Weida, the last living soul in the area. The shaking of his body intensified as fear was added to hunger. The mixture of sensations was to much for him to handle. He was unable to act, unable to breathe.

Shadows crept into the edges of his vision as the circling beasts drew ever closer. Their leers danced in his fading sight.

And then there was only blackness.

...

Weida let out a groan as consciousness fought for control of his mind. He wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but the faces of hundreds of rabid raccoons was burned into his memory.

Could it have been a dream? Was he dead?

As he opened his eyes, he was met with the gaze of a spectral, blue moose, head tilted at an inquisitive angle.

"Hullo," said the moose.

Yup, thought Weida. Definitely dead.

"How's your head feeling?"

Weida chuckled to himself as he idly rubbed his throbbing temple. "As well as can be expected. I am dead, after all."

The moose met his laugh with one of its own. "You aren't dead, my friend." Its chest puffed up with pride as it continued: "I saved you!"

"Well then. Thanks, I guess." Weida shifted his eyes in discomfort, unsure of how to respond.

He was in a dark, shapeless place. A black void surrounded the pair, illuminated only by the light emanating from the moose's body. The black surface upon which he sat felt like tofu as he slid his hand across it.

"Where am I?"

"That's not really important," replied the moose. "What matters is that you're alive, and so we have a chance."

"A chance at what?"

The moose arched his eyebrow in incredulity. "A chance to win."

Seeing Weida's jaw drop, the moose continued. "Right now, my brother's raccoon army is tearing through the mortal world. For whatever reason, you were at the epicentre of his transdimensional gate, and so you have a unique opportunity to stop him. As you are now, he would crush you without breaking a sweat, but I was able to pull you out before the raccoons could deal their final blow.

"I'm going to train you, make you stronger, so that you can draw on the dimensional energies you've been subjected to and defeat my brother before he destroys your world." The moose reached out and laid a hoof on Weida's shoulder. "You are their only hope."

Weida looked down at the enormous hoof. He felt it. It was real.

With an uncertain swallow he looked back as the moose's face. "So, um... Who are you?"

The moose took it's arm back as it pondered the question. "I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. I've never needed a name before. I have always been, and always will be. How does one label eternity?"

"Right..."

"I'm sorry, I could make a name up if you'd like."

"No, that's okay. It wouldn't make much of a difference..." He sighed as he continued. "And your brother, is he... like you?"

"Yes, and no," came the cryptic reply. "Like me, my brother is eternal. But this form is my own. My brother's shape more closely resembles a pegasus."

"Pegasus?"

"Yes, a pegasus."

Weida's confusion silently prompted an explanation. "It's like a unicorn with wings. In your world they are most prevalent in Greek mythology."

"Why are you so different?"

"We are what we choose to be. I like moose, so I modeled myself after one for the time being. My brother wanted to appear more imposing."

Weida let the silence drag on. The moose waited patiently for him to be ready. He was overwhelmed by what was happening to him. He had never thought of himself as a hero, but this strange being was now telling him that the fate of the whole world rest in his hands. Was he ready for that responsibility?

Ready or not, he thought, I have to do this. There's noone to be brave for me.

Filled with grim resolve, he stood, a new man. Weida raised his clenched fist and looked the moose straight in the eye. "I'm ready. Teach me."


...

Weida shifted his weight as he waited for the moose to begin. They hand been standing like this for several minutes now, with the beast lost in thought and the man waiting patiently for some indication of how to proceed. The silence was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the seconds passed, but he was too nervous to break it with what was probably a dumb question. He figured that a timeless spirit beast would have his reasons for making him wait.

When the moose opened it's eyes, it seemed shocked to see relief wash over the man before him. After pondering for a moment, its eyes softened empathetically.

"I'm sorry, I forgot how justifiaby impatient mortal creatures can be. I was examining the waves of time to determine how best to proceed."

After a few more moments of awkward silence, Weida cleared his throat. The moose took the queue and continued.

"Well, I've determined that to defeat my brother's army, we must use teh small, rather than the large. I'll teach you how to channel your void energy into many tiny, independent pieces to aid you in your battle. In just a few of your Earth years we should be ready to strike back."

"YEARS!?" The single word was all that he could manage to sneak past the lump in his throat. The matter-of-fact statement hit him with a wall of incredulity.

The moose remained unphased, thouh his head tilted in curiosity. "Of course. While you have a certain advantage, you are still only one man. It will take more than a little doing to get you ready to face my brother and his army. What did you expect?"

Indignant, Weida glared at the moose. "But what about the rest of the world?! What's going to happen to them?"

"Nothing, I expect," shrugged the moose. "They're all dead, after all."

Weida's stomach dropped. "Dead?" He could barely manage to whisper the word. It was as if his whole world had crumbled around him. All of his loved ones, all of his brothers... Nothing would be waiting for him when he returned.

Weida fell to his knees in despair. The sadness of the thought was crushing. Were there walls in this place they would surely be closing around his tortured soul. Deep down, he cursed the moose. He suspected, of course, that his world was in ashes, but somehow not knowing made it easier to deal with.

Ignorance truly was bliss.

The nonchalant voice of the moose brought Weida back to reality. "Sure they are," it said. "My brother is particularly good at this sort of thing. But there's no need to be so dramatic. You're going to stop it, after all."

Weida's eyes shot up to meet those of the moose, a glimmer of hope shining deep in their pupils. "I am?"

The moose sighed. "I suppose I should probably explain a few things before we continue," it said. "First of all, my brother and I are immortal, as I'm sure you have already guessed. Since we've been around for forever, we have some talents that are pretty unique.

"One of my brother's primary talents is control over beings. He's able to enter a non-willful consciousness and replace it with his own. He could theoretically do this thousands, if not millions of times to amass an army, but over time that has proven to be rather ineffective. Instead he takes over a few creatures of a given type that have certain useful characteristics and then he mirrors and merges their existence to create inumerable soldiers with a single mind. It's sort of like breeding, or cloning, but infinitely more complicated and more precise.

"My abilities, on the other hand, revolve more around a deep understanding of time and matter. I am able to read and manipulate waves and energies. It's a much more subtle form of control than that of my brother, but it certainly has its uses.

"Every so often my brother and I engage in what some might call a game, though it's more of a battle of wits. He will cause some form of catastrophe in an arbitrary space, and I must try to stop it from occurring. I usually have to be very careful in how I go about doing this, but by putting you at the epicentre of his event he has made a mistake. If you're willing to learn we should be able to deal with this incident with relative ease."

Weida gave himself a few minutes to consider what he'd heard before picking his jaw up from the floor. He swallowed the lump in his throat before slowly climbing to his feet. "So we can stop this?"

"If you're willing to learn."

Weida clenched his fist and loked the moose dead in the eye.

"Let's do this."

...

Weida smiled as the vendor handed him the hot dog. His empty stomach grumbled in anticipation. He had been waiting for this for a very, very long time.

He sighed quietly as he looked at the sausage. I wish I could eat you, he thought.

He watched the surrounding area carefully with his peripheral vision as he began to raise the hot dog to his mouth. It had only moved a few inches when a flash of movement at the far end of the plaza caught his eye.

They were here.

In a flash, he threw the hot dog into the air in front of him, right in the face of a very surprised raccoon. The beast flew forward, its intended path only slightly upset by the projectile. Weida met it with practiced confidence, catchingit with a sweeping motion and summarily breakng its neck.

One down, he thought.

Screams erupted in the plaza as the horde of raccoons swarmed through the trees. Their attention was focused solely on the man that had slain one of their comrades. Having found the moose's champion, their rampage could wait. Weida smiled as the civilians were all able to flee to safety.

Hundreds, and then thousands of furry faces rushed toward him. A cloud of dust arose as the cobblestone disappeared under a wave of grey and black fur.

In the middle of the chaos, Weida was perfectly calm. He set his emotions aside and sought the energy deep within him, channeling it into his outstretched palm. A blue light began to emanate as the distance between him and the angry horde grew ever smaller.

As the first of the raccoons reached him, he sprang into action. He coiled the muscles in his legs and shot into a backflip as a tiny ball of energy shot frm his palm. The ball morphed into the shape of a bee and intercepted the raccoon with its stinger outstretched. As the collided, the stinger detached and injected into the heart of the beast. The energy immediately began to return to Weida as the raccoon collapsed, and then exploded with a brilliant blue light. The light washed over the other raccoons nearby, and they dissolved into nothingness.

As Weida landed, he broke into a sprint away from the encroaching horde. more energy bees shot from his palm as he ran, and explosions caused the ground to rumble beneath his feet. The raccoons kept coming, and despite his best efforts, they drew ever closer. The enraged hiss of thousands of creatures drowned out the sound of his heart beating in his ears.

As one of the raccoons overtook him, it jumped at him from the right. He dropped his left knee and shot out his right foot, dropping into a spin and bringing his elbow to bear in the raccoon's face. He felt the sickening crush of bone and brain matter as his appendage connected, and the raccoon went flying away from him with a spray of blood. He used the momentum of the spin to leap out of the way of another leaping beast, landing in a roll and coming to his feet in a sprint as he passed the buildings at the edge of the plaza.

The battle raged through the streets of the city. At every turn, more raccoons would be waiting for him. He'd leap off of walls and over parked cars, smacking angry creatures out of the air. He'd slide under signs and bushes, only to kick his pursuers out of the way. Every so often he'd glance behind him to the ever approaching and seemingly endless horde of raccoons. His bees weren't defeating them quickly enough, and the horde was getting ever closer. At this rate they'd be on him, and then all would be lost.

Weida was getting desperate. He looked frantically at the shops as he fought. There were restaurants and corner stores all along the streets, but nothing that would be useful in defeating the horde. He even saw an LCBO, but while he figured he had earned a drink, this wasn't really the time or place for such things.

And then he realised: alcohol burns.

He directed his palm toward the liquor store and dozens of energy bees shot forth. He gave them a mental command to find the strongest alcohol they could as the glass doors shattered.

He darted down a side street, and the shop was out of sight. He had to buy some time. Minutes passed as he ran through the streets, subtlely directing the horde back toward the liquor store while killing as many as possible with his bees and his appendages, dodging the claws and teeth of his pursuers.

As he turned down a major intersection he saw the telltale glow of his bees carrying bottles from the next block. He lowered his head and sprinted as hard as he could as he issued another mental command to his bees. They stopped flying and started to vibrate.

Heat from the accelerating bees began to heat the bottles they were holding. The air shimmered as warmth spread through the street, and some of the bottles began to glow.

As Weida pass the swarm, the first of the bottles shattered. The rain of liquor burst into flame as it fell, showering teh street behind him in a burning rain. The closest raccoons screeched in pain as it poured over them, causing their fur to alight. One by one, the other bottles began to shatter, covering the whole street in a wall of fire.

Weida focused hard on the energy inside of him as he dug in his heels and skidded to a halt, turning to face the horde as he slowed. He grimaced as he pulled his arms to his chest, the strain of the action threatening to burst the blood vessels in his head.

And then, with a mighty push, he shot a wave of energy toward the flames. As passed through the fire, it too ignited, and the squeals of burning raccoons became deafening as it passed through the street. All four lanes and both sidewalks were covered in a rolling wall of flame that shot down forth, consuming all in its path. The remaining raccoons, as eager as they were to catch their prey, had all clustered into the street, and there was nowhere left to run.

Weida's whole body shook as the wall dissipated. The charred corpses of raccoons lay littered in the street, causing a sickening stench to wash over him. The only sounds were the wind and his heavy breathing.

Once he was sure it was done, he collapsed. It had taken everything he had, but the city -- the whole world -- was safe. He'd done it.

The blue moose had won.

Thing 31: Write a recipe for disaster

Originally posted to Facebook on July 18th, 2013.

Preamble:
"I keep changing my mind about what I want to write for this one. My first thought was an actual recipe, in the vein of CinemaSins (e.g. http://bit.ly/12LhvH4), followed by a story about black magic altering a recipe (http://songmeanings.com/songs/view/71740/, based on a german children's story), followed by an original, dark children's story describing how a child is abused and grows up to do evil deeds himself.

Right now I'm hovering on "science gone wrong," which would focus on a mad scientist creating machines with great destructive power. Or possibly a Powerpuff Girls spinoff...

Focus is hard...

Okay, after much deliberation I have decided to stick with the children's story. It would be the first passage of that type which I'll have created, so in the interest of expanding my venues (variety is the spice of life, after all, and spice is very important in recipes), it seems like the best choice.

Let's do this. You'll have to use your imagination a bit, because it's not nearly as good without pictures. Line breaks indicate new pages."


Thing 31: Write a recipe for disaster

Meet Jimmy.

Like all little boys, Jimmy likes to play. His favourite game is soccer.

Jimmy is smiles a lot when he scores a goal!

In school, Jimmy doesn't raise his hand, even if he knows the answer. He prefers to listen.

At lunch time, Jimmy eats his lunch alone. He smiles when he receieves pudding.

Jimmy speaks with the other students on the bus ride home. Jimmy smiles that they are happy.

When Jimmy gets off the bus, his smile goes away. He doesn't need to lie any more.

In reality, Jimmy is very sad.

Jimmy is sad when his mommy cries. His mommy cries a lot.

Jimmy is sad when his sister cries. His sister cries a lot.

Jimmy likes his shirts very much. They hide the bruises he gets when daddy hits him.

One day, Jimmy decided that he didn't want to be sad any more. Instead, Jimmy became very angry.

When daddy hit mommy, Jimmy hit daddy.

Afterward, not even Jimmy's shirts could hide the bruises.

When daddy hit Jimmy's sister, Jimmy hit daddy.

Afterward, Jimmy could barely walk.

That night, Jimmy snuck into mommy and daddy's room with a knife.

Daddy would not be able to hit them any more.

For the first time ever, Jimmy was happy.

Thing 30: A man jumps from the fortieth storey of a building. As he passes the 28th floor, he hears a phone ring and regrets that he jumped. Why?

Originally posted to Facebook on July 17th, 2013. Normally the next entry would be a story challenge, but as previously mentioned I messed up the numbering, so this was Thing 29. Regardless, I'm very happy with how this one turned out.

Preamble:
"Is it just me, or are these getting more complicated? Anyway, on to the story...

Note: According to my calculations (http://www.ambrsoft.com/CalcPhysics/acceleration/acceleration.htm), it would take about 4.95 seconds to reach the ground from the fortieth storey, with about 2.24 seconds of that time spanning the 28th floor and below. 2 seconds isn't a lot of time for regret."


Thing 30: A man jumps from the fortieth storey of a building. As he passes the 28th floor, he hears a phone ring and regrets that he jumped. Why?

A shiver ran down Marlon's spine as he gazed over the edge of the building. It was as high as he'd ever been, and the coldness of the air was shocking.

"How fitting," he thought, "that this cold is the last thing I'll feel."

He took a moment to let the sensation fully wash over him. He felt every follicle of hair raise as goosebumps appeared on his flesh; felt the tingling chill swimming through his blood. It was a frigid reality that he wanted to clearly remember as he met his end. It was a harsh reminder that the world was a cold, unfeeling place, and the numbness of his extremities was beginning to match that of his soul.

He took his phone from his pocket and let his steely gaze rest upon its screen. The device was as calm as he was. There were no calls, no messages, no notifications. It had a certain cathartic finality to it, reinforcing his belief that he was all alone.

He felt the slightest pang of pain stab his heart as he was reminded that she was not with him.

Marlon's brow tightened to a grimace as he stepped onto the roof's lip. His slow exhale filled the chill air with a soft cloud, causing a mist to obscure the screen of the phone still held before him. His thumb moved slowly, deliberately across the screen, wiping the mist away.

He silently counted the seconds in his mind, his eyes never leaving the screen. The phone sat quietly in his palm, having nothing to say despite the burning in Marlon's empty lungs. Each second fueled its growing smugness; its self-satisfied assertion that it was indifferent to its owner's plight. His anger deepened as the count increased, and he let it consume him. He focused his will onto the phone until his rage burned more fiercely than his starved lungs.

When he could take it no longer, he released it all at once. Through gritted teeth frigid air assaulted throat, the breath sending all of his senses into relieved disarray. He used the sudden intake to fuel his courage, and soon he was weightless, careening ever faster toward the unforgiving ground below.

Now it was just him and gravity.

He saw the stark visage of the clock of fate in his mind, and allowed its hands to take a single step closer to midnight.

Here, at 11:56, he shed his guilt. In this infinite space he let those he had wronged fade into obscurity. No longer would they haunt him. No longer would he be held accountable. There would be no justice save for that waged by fate itself.

Another step.

Here, at 11:57, he shed his happiness. Pleasant memories were meaningless here. There was no joy in punishment, no hope. The light had faded from his life a long time ago, and with the end so close it was only right that his gladness be properly laid to rest.

Another step.

Here, at 11:58, he shed his regret. All he had done, and failed to do, was tied to a past that no longer mattered. All that remained was the inevitability of what was to come.

As the hand groaned toward the next notch, the unthinkable occurred.

His phone rang.

Here, at 11:59, the simple chime echoed throughout his skull. Her name appeared on the screen, and the sight of it consumed what was left of his tired mind. All that remained was the name, and the chime. Tears were ripped from the corners of his eyes by the rushing air around him, leaving cold trails of anguish in the space before him.

Never again would he hear her voice, or see her smile, or feel comfort in her presence. Never again would her eyes pierce his. Never again would her warmth give meaning to his life.

His eyes closed as the clock struck midnight.

Thing 29: Describe five memories -- events you know really well. Then take one of them further.

Originally posted to Facebook on July 15th, 2013. There's only a preamble to this one.

Thing 29: Describe five memories -- events you know really well. Then take one of them further.

Preamble:
"Geeze, that's a tough one...

It's actually particularly difficult for me because a lot of the memories that I can recall most vividly are most likely fabricated. I have a remarkably stark imagination, and as a weak-minded child I often imagined events and convinced myself they were quite real.

These days, rather than perceive imagined events as real, I embrace my dreams, and carefully craft them into sagas. I'm rather adept at giving my dreams direction, and so I cultivate them. This makes those memories quite precious, but it does distance my mind somewhat from reality. I have difficulty retaining specifics of happenings in my life, and instead I remember emotions.

In any case, I'm going to skip this one as well. I hope this isn't too much of a disappointment."

Thing 28: The meanest thing anyone has ever said to you

Originally posted to Facebook on July 14th, 2013. This one was pretty short.

Thing 28: The meanest thing anyone has ever said to you

I don't really keep a personal log of insults lodged against me over the years, so personally I've no idea. Words themselves don't really stick to me. Rather, the emotions behind those words stick, and so I can describe the feeling, but not the content of a particular slight.

If we approach this from a different angle, and examine the meanest thing anyone has ever said, period, I think Douglas Adams has already covered the crux of it.

The meanest thing anyone has ever said, is the answer to life, the universe, and everything. An answer which was sought by many but of use to none:

42.

Thing 27: A sneeze

Originally posted to Facebook on July 11th, 2013. As always I was trying to do something really unique.

Thing 27: A sneeze

Men, this mission is of the utmost importance. As I'm sure you're all well aware, we're losing this war. Every day the host's immune system brings us closer and closer to our very extinction. We've fought a good fight, but it's time that we found a new home.

We are charged with finding that home. At precisely 1730 hours HQ will initiate the expulsion protocol. At this time, we will be jettisoned from the host and must find a new host.

We are the forerunners; the elite. It falls on our shoulders to build a new home and ensure the survival of our people. We are walking the line between prosperity, and utter annihilation.

I tip my mitochondria to you, those brave soldiers who have agreed to undertake this dangerous mission. May the infection spread through you all, and I'll see you in paradise.

Thing 26: Something you found

Originally posted to Facebook on July 8th, 2013. I'm not entirely pleased with the concept, but the writing's okay.

Thing 26: Something you found

Doctor Frankfurt's eyes glowed brighter than his lamp as he softly brushed the dust off of the small box before him. While his entire body shook with anticipation, his hands were perfectly steady. Each measured stroke of his brush revealed even more of the glinting gold beneath thousands of years of neglect.

It was more beautiful than he could imagine. The thing was priceless, to be sure, but it represented the culmination of his entire career's work, and to him that was far more valuable.

He held his breath as he licked his lips, lest any of the moisture escape and contaminate his prize. After all of this time, after all of this effort, he would be damned if anything were to come between him and his glory. Dust filled the air, pushed aside by the careful strokes of his archaeologist's brush.

His diligence was rewarded as a handle emerged from the grit on either side of the box. He let his hands glide gently over the surface of his before grasping them in a firm grip. The ancient tomb melted away, leaving nothing but the man and his prize. Seconds, and then minutes passed as he held his treasure; felt the realness of it. He could see nothing else. His tired muscles, the stuffy, dry air -- all meaningless and distant entities hiding deep within his subconscious. The tension in his arms steadily increased as he gingerly began to lift the golden box. His unblinking eyes glistened impatiently at the slow ascent, but he dared not take any chances.

So enchanted was he by the action that he didn't even hear the click.

Thing 25: Something you lost

Originally posted to Facebok on July 7th, 2013. Take it as you will.

Thing 25: Something you lost

It watches me. It sits on its perch, taunting, waiting, seeing, hearing, being, ready to crawl to the inside and make it burn. Precarious it sits. A push, a shove, a rustle, and SMASH. It ends. But no. It watches. It waits. Since the days before, it has sat, patiently ever the harbinger to the end. The fat one scorns, hands me lies and tells me they'll make the demon go away. But I know better. I have been watching, too. Always watching. I tear and scratch to make the walls into windows but always I watch. For it can't be trusted. It burns from the middle, all throughout, its gaze piercing and clawing through. As I watch it watching it watches me watch, and it smiles as I am undone. But undone will never be done. Ever the burning will be, and never will I succumb. I am stronger than this demon. As it watches, so too do I watch. Better is my watch, and though it burns me also do I burn it. I see the flicker, calling me. A spark of justice. Never and always they burn eternal. The flicker of the flames drown out the voices, calling for the fire within to be the fire without. But to burn I would have not watch, and always I watch. Always I watch. Always.

Thing 24: Put two people who hate each other in an elevator for 12 hours. What happens?

Originally posted to Facebook on July 5th, 2013. I got the numbering wrong at this point, so the numbers on Facebook are one behind. Despite that, this is possibly one of my favourite passages. I giggled incessantly while writing it.

Thing 24: Put two people who hate each other in an elevator for 12 hours. What happens?

July 5th, 9:13 AM - Well, this sucks. I was already late for work, but the elevator broke down, so I won't be able to get up to my office. I can't say I'm upset that my TPS reports will go unfiled, but I do have certain responsibilities to fulfill. I'm the type of person who wants to actually earn that pay check. Anyway, i don't know how long this will last, but hopefully it will be over with sooner rather than later. Bateman is locked in here with me. If that prick tries to lay a finger on me, I swear I will kick him in the nuts so hard that his children will curse my name for eternity. At least I have you, diary. We'll get through this together.

July 5th, 9:18 AM - Please kill me. Bateman's optimism is insufferable.

July 5th, 9:46 AM - Bateman's been telling what he claims are jokes since the elevator stopped moving. I wish his mouth would follow suit. I'm fairly certain that nuns and priests would never dream of committing the atrocities he's been spewing. Every religious ideology cringes in unison each time he deems himself worthy of speech.

July 5th, 10:19 AM - No more nuns and priest jokes? Dead babies are clearly the next logical step. I would think my quiet, simmering rage would be sufficient to stop this madness. Maybe he just likes the sound of his own voice... When will I be free of this hell!?

July 5th, 11:11 AM - I wish I could be free of this elevator. I expect delivery immediately. Surely my wish shall be granted on this, the most auspicious of minutes.

July 5th, 11:15 AM - Screw you, powers that be. I had hopes and dreams once. They've been replaced by rabbis and racial stereotypes. I hope you're happy.

July 5th, 11:24 AM - He farted. I think this is what rock bottom feels like.

July 5th, 11:26 AM - Okay, I lied. I farted. I don't want to die a liar. At least Bateman was nice enough not to say anything about it... Maybe he's just in denial that such an earth-rending stench could be elicited by so delicate a lady...

July 5th, 12:30 PM - Apparently Bateman is claustrophobic. When he ran out of jokes to tell he started just rocking back and forth for awhile before apologizing profusely. Maybe he's not such a bad guy after all.

July 5th, 1:01 PM - Am I a bad person? Probably. He's trying so hard to be cheerful, but I can see the tears welling up in his eyes. Bateman is scared, but he doesn't want to show it. I bet he just wants to rub it in my face later. He's still a jerk. I'm not letting him off the hook for the glitter incident last week.

July 5th, 1:59 PM - I've discovered that we are sharing the elevator with a spider. Normally this would be cause for alarm, but seeing as my only other choice of company is Bateman, I shall have to make the best of it.

July 5th, 2:13 PM - My attempts to telepathically connect with the spider have proven fruitless. I am hesitant to resort to verbal communication, as that might give Bateman the impression that I'm willing to talk to him. I shall redouble my psychic efforts.

July 5th, 2:45 PM - Dear spider, please accept this picture of a spider as my gift to you. I would like to be your friend.

/\( ' ' )/\
\ . .. . . /

July 5th, 3:00 PM - My attempts to communicate with the spider continue to prove ineffective. I guess it didn't like my picture. Wrong type of spider? Oh well. I guess I'll keep trying.

July 5th, 3:21 PM - Bateman killed my spider. I hate him so.

July 5th, 3:32 PM - Bored...

| 8 | 2 | 4 || 9 | 5 | 3 || 6 | 7 | 1 |
| 6 | 3 | 5 || 8 | 1 | 7 || 9 | 2 | 4 |

| 7 | 1 | 9 || 6 | 2 | 4 || 8 | 5 | 3 |
 ---------------------------------
| 5 | 8 | 7 || 2 | 9 | 1 || 3 | 4 | 6 |

| 1 | 4 | 2 || 7 | 3 | 6 || 5 | 8 | 9 |
| 3 | 9 | 6 || 4 | 8 | 5 || 2 | 1 | 7 |
----------------------------------
| 2 | 6 | 1 || 5 | 4 | 9 || 7 | 3 | 8 |
| 4 | 7 | 8 || 3 | 6 | 2 || 1 | 9 | 5 |
| 9 | 5 | 3 || 1 | 7 | 8 || 4 | 6 | 2 |

July 5th, 6:05 PM - That took an embarrassingly long time. At least I got it right...

July 5th, 7:13 PM - Ten. Freaking. Hours. I don't think I can speak anymore. Bateman feel asleep some time ago, so at least there's that, but I dare not test my voice for fear of inviting him back into the land of the conscious.

July 5th, 7:49 PM - Are we inside the elevator, or is the elevator inside all of us? What does the elevator see in you?

July 5th, 8:00 PM - After some thought, I've come to the conclusion that what I thought was a deep philosophical question is actually the beginnings of my insanity. I can't believe I wrote that down... Still, I promised I would never defile you, my precious journal, with corrections or alterations. You get only my true feelings. The condition, of course, is that you never share them, lest I burn you for your infidelity.

July 5th, 8:42 PM - This is the worst day ever. The Tic Tacs and energy bar in my purse were egregiously insufficient to fulfill my nutritional needs for so lengthy a sojourne. My stomach burns with the pangs of hunger, and my throat yearns for a single drop of relief. Is it too early to eat Bateman?

July 5th, 9:12 PM - I think I'll die in this elevator. My dearest diary, I leave you all of my earthly possessions, for in my darkest hour, you have ben my only friend.

July 5th, 9:13 PM - Okay, I was wrong. The power came back on, and we are free of our elevator prison. Bateman cried.

What a bitch.

Thing 23: You are looking down through the skylight as chefs prepare dinner for your ex-fiancé's wedding.

Originally posted to Facebook on July 2nd, 2013. There are some glaring flaws with this passage, but I like the idea I came up with.

Thing 23: You are looking down through the skylight as chefs prepare dinner for your ex-fiancé's wedding.

Avery crept slowly along the slanted rooftop, carefully testing each step before commiting his weight. The clay tiles, slick from the damp evening mist, provided little purchase, and a single misstep could spell disaster in what was to come. The occasional loose tile slowed his progress to a crawl and stress, coupled with the strain of his precision, caused sweat to bead on his forehead.

After what seemed an eternity, the steep roof tiles leveled into the main building's service plateau. Avery quickly ducked into prone on the gravel surface and hid himself at the base of one of the several decorative glass domes adorning the plateau. The domes, seen by the casual observer as a purely aesthetic addition to allow in natural light and portray the opulence of the residence, served a secondary function of allowing the estate's rooftop guards better visibiity of the interior as they patrolled, and should they require it, an access point from which to ambush intruders from above.

The Baron's sentries were in full force on such an important night.

Avery held his breath as the subtle crunch of packed gravel announced the approach of one of the guards. His hand silently sought the knife sheathed at the small of his back. His fingers curled purposefully around the cool hilt, perfectly steady as his coiled muscles prepared for the grim finality of what was to come.

Suddenly, a heavy black boot appeared from around the corner. Small stones were pushed aside, shifted by the weight of the massive man who sauntered casually in pursuit. The guard's black combat gear made for an imposing sight in the darkness of the evening, its fierceness amplified by the growing shadows. He idly cradled a dark assault rifle in his arms as he looked out upon the grounds, oblivious to the danger at his feet.

And then suddenly, he was gone.

Surprise sang through the guard's eyes as the knife in his skull caused the life therein to extinguish. Avery's gloved hand and tight embrace prevented any wisp of a sound from the dying man. In the space of a breath, it was over; another obstacle silently dispatched from the mission at hand.

It took a few moments for Avery to be sure that the guard was gone for good. Any post-mortem spasm could reveal his position, making all of his efforts for naught. He gently released the guard and let him roll onto the gravel, wiping the knife's blade on the bulletproof vest before sheathing it safely behind him. He took a deep breath in anticipation of the difficulty to come.

He carefully removed the guard's hat and placed it firmly on his head. It was a bit large, but it would have to do. He also slipped the rifle from the guard's shoulder and laid it carefully on the stones before him. In an instant, he was on one knee, tightening the laces on his shoe beside the large dome. As the other rooftop sentinel glanced casually toward his comrade, Avery stood and cradled the rifle in his arms, glancing back and offering a polite nod. The darkness was sufficient disguise, it seemed, for the guard went back to his patrol without a second thought.

Avery let out a soft sigh of relief. Only one more problem to deal with before he could make it inside. He strolled casually along the rooftop, taking subtle note of the fact that his rifle was not silenced. As he cracked his neck he gauged the distance to the other guard as 30 meters, with one of the domes acting as further impediment. He'd have to come up with a plan.

He strode idly along the rooftop for several minutes as he thought about how he could dispatch the other sentry. As he walked he noted the path the guard took, and mirrored it on his side of the roof.

Eventually he stopped, and peered out into the darkness, straining his eyes as if to seek some distant phantom. Avery brought the rifle to bear and looked through the scope, trained now on the far side of the estate. Seeing his comrade go on alert, the guard silently did the same. He did a quick sweep of the surrounding area before moving to the edge of the building and aiming his rifle toward the shadows. Unable to see the cause of the distress, he moved closer to Avery's side of the roof. Then a little closer...

In one swift motion, the guard dropped, Avery's knife piercing straight into his heart. There was a gasp as the air was forced brutally from his lungs, and then nothing. Avery casually wiped his blade on the guard's pants before returning it safely to its sheath.

He took in a breath of the crisp night air to clear his thoughts, now tinged with the slightest hint of blood, and walked over to one of the dimly-lit domes.

Below him was a flurry of activity. Staff of all sorts rushed frantically through a luxurious kitchen preparing all manner of meats and pastries for the wedding. The air wavered as the heat from a dozen large ovens filtered into the wide room. The golden skin of roasted pheasants glistened in the light of crystal chandeliers. The white aprons of chefs and their aides were stained with the fruits of their strenuous labour, billowing as their inhabitants ran back and forth to prepare the many courses of the extravagent meal to come.

The centerpiece of the kitchen, sitting on a tall cart, was a grand cake. Six tiers of pearly fondant were decorated with ruby rivers of sweet syrup and crowns of succulent strawberries.

Avery smiled to himself. She hated strawberries.

"Don't worry, Sarah," he whispered. "I'll save you."

Thing 22: What could have happened to you in high school that would have altered the course of your life?

Originally posted to Facebook on July 2nd, 2013. It's always an interesting experience to imagine "what if."

Thing 22: What could have happened to you in high school that would have altered the course of your life?

Principal Smith looked up from his paperwork as a light knock sounded on the frame of his office. Standing in the door was a large student with a fluffy red beard. "Hey Dom, thanks for coming." With a pointed nod, he motioned to the seat across from him.

Following the queue, I entered the room, closing the door behind me. As I sat down I gave Mr. Smith a brief, polite smile. "With all due respect, sir, I didn't really have much of a choice."

Smith laughed to himself as he returned the smile. "There's always a choice. Actually that's why I called you in here." He shuffled some papers around on his messy desk, pausing briefly to read a few before casting them aside. After several attempts, he located the bundle of sheets he was looking for, and laid it neatly between us. "Mrs. Zachary mentioned that you wanted to become an engineer, correct?"

"Not really, sir. I want to become a game designer, but my parents want me in engineering. I figured I could still get to where I want to go with an engineering degree, so I applied to the University of Waterloo's computer engineering program." I shifted nervously in response to Mr. Smith's raised eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," Smith explained, "I received a very interesting piece of literature this morning." He picked up the piece of paper he fished out before and handed it to me.

I cautiously took the paper. As I scanned it, my eyes widened in surprise. Worry crept into my expression as I looked up at my principal. "I wrote this for my creative writing class. Did I do something wrong? How could I possibly get into trouble over a story about a duck?"

Mr. Smith let out a burst of amused laughter. It came from from deep inside him and filled the whole room. "You're not in trouble, Dom. It's amazing! Quite frankly, it's one of the best stories I've read from a student at your level."

"Oh..." Blood rushed to my face as I let the story drop to my lap, unsure of how to react to the high praise. "Um, thanks."

The room sat in silence, save for the occasional chuckle from Mr. Smith. He was clearly enjoying the awkward position in which I found myself, and I had no idea how to react. I opened my mouth a number of times, but, unable to find the right words, yielded and let it shut.

Eventually, he was kind enough to continue. "Look Dom, Mrs. Zachary and I think you're wasting your potential by going into engineering."

Shocked, I responded: "But, why? It's a highly presitigious program. I can still get the masters I want, and once I have that nobody will look at my undergrad anymore." I gestured idly with the story in my right hand. "I don't see how a duck trumps that logic."

There was a brief pause. "Uh, sir."

"It's not about the degree," Mr. Smith laughed.

"It's about knowledge, Dom." Seeing my confused look, he continued. "You probably don't realize this yet, but a degree is more than just a means to an end. People usually just go to school so that they're better able to get a job once they graduate, but what I want you to understand is that education serves a higher purpose.

"You should not be spending five years and thousands of dollars on a piece of paper. You can get one of those using a few minutes and printer ink. The value of education is, believe it or not, learning."

I met his speech with a frown. "I know that, sir. Like I said, I can still use this degree to get the master's I want, and it's not like I'm not going to learn anything in Engineering."

"But you're not going to learn the RIGHT things. When I read that story, I could feel the passion you put into it. Whether or not you think that you were just doing an assignment, it's clear that you've got a significant knack for this kind of thing. You enjoy telling stories, and I can assure you that you're not going to find any stories in computer engineering.

"Engineering is a tough, technical program. And before you say anything, I looked at your grades, and you're more than qualified. The problem isn't that I don't think you can do it, because quite frankly you're a smart kid and you can do whatever you want, but I can guarantee that when you're slogging through technical reports and pages of complex calculus that you will not be happy. You're going to be miserable, and you're going to be counting the seconds until you graduate and you can move on to doing something you're actually passionate about.

"In engineering, you won't have any freedom at all. If you go into a general math or science program, you'll have some core courses, but you'll have choices as well. Choices you can fill with creative writing, or art, or anything that expands that creative mind you've got." He placed a single finger on the pages I held as his face took on a serious expression. "You have a gift, and you need to nurture that gift; not cage it.

"Take it from a man who has made his fair share of mistakes, and doesn't want to see you make the same ones."

We sat in silence as Mr. Smith crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. My mind was racing as I tried to process the wall of information I had just crashed in to. I knew in my heart that he wasn't wrong, but I didn't know how to process that information. My brow creased as I furiously tried to plan my next actions.

"Look, don't take my word for it. I want you to go and speak with Mrs. Zachary about this at some point. She's concerned that you're not going to be able to fulfill your vast potential, and I'm inclined to agree. You don't have to do it right away, but remember that the deadline for university applications is coming up soon."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. As the air exited my lungs, I looked Mr. Smith in the eye. "Is that all, sir?"

He nodded with a sympathetic smile.

"Thanks." The chair let out a muffled groan as it slid against the office's carpet when I stood. I was in a daze as I made my way to the door and opened it with a click. It slowly closed itself in my wake, banging against the frame with a resounding thud. The thud had an unmistakable finality to it.

I had a lot to think about.

Thing 21: Describe the most recent moment when you couldn't think of anything to say. Were you having a hard time making conversation, or were you simply dumbfounded?

Originally posted to Facebook on June 25th, 2013.

Thing 21: Describe the most recent moment when you couldn't think of anything to say. Were you having a hard time making conversation, or were you simply dumbfounded?

This is actually a fairly poignant topic for me. As a challenge for personal growth I've challenged myself to start a conversation with a stranger, but I can never figure out how to actually do that. There have been several occasions over the past week or so where I've desperately wanted to talk to somebody (through a need to challenge myself, rather than actually wanting to interact with another human. That is an important distinction), but it's incredibly nerve-wracking.

I imagine a series of really negative scenes playing out in my mind. There was one situation where a cute girl sat next to me no the bus, and I imagined that when I tried to start a conversation she publicly shamed me for hitting on her. I spent the rest of the bus ride trying desperately to avoid looking at her for fear of the imagined scene becoming reality.

So yes, I have a very hard time making conversation. Even with people I'm close with, I find it much easier to let them drive the conversation. Unless we're talking about something I've formed a very strong opinion on (like games or some moral issues), I'm really quite hopeless.

To my friends: if you notice I've become quiet, I'm not necessarily disinterested; I just don't know what to say.

Wednesday 24 July 2013

Story Challenge 2: And then there were badgers

This story challenge was originally posted in two parts to Facebook on June 21st, 2013. The whole thing is about 25 pages long, which is not bad for a few hours' work if I do say so myself. As always, the suggestions were ridiculous and amazing. The five concepts I went with were:

- Gamma radiation
- The day the internet died
- Amnesia
- Ninja badgers
- Rainbows being the secret weapons of Leprechauns

This story contains some strong language, so reader discretion is advised.

------------------------

Aaron awoke slowly. Through the haze clouding his vision he was barely able to the shape of his dresser towering above him. He gently blinked and winced in a vain attempt to quell the great force struggling to escape his skull. Even with the world safely out of sight he could feel it spinning uncontrollably around him. It was nauseating.

After a few minutes of trying to collect his thoughts, he slowly opened his eyes and rolled onto his stomach. Willpower alone forced him to his feet, and only his arm shakily clutching the edge of his dresser kept him there. As his room came into focus this stinging scent of blood assaulted his nostrils. From the glaring red splash of the stuff beside his shivering hand, he could only assume it was his. frantically searching his memories for the cause yielded only shadows.

A sinking feeling began to grow in his gut. The way his clothes stuck to his back told him that he had been lying in a pool of his own insides for some time. What happened? How much blood had he lost?

One thing was for certain, something had to be done. He peered out the open door of his bedroom and spotted a phone sitting on the kitchen island in his spacious apartment. If he could get to it then he could call an ambulance...

With unsteady steps he carefully made his way across the room, each step inviting new agony into his weary body. He fought to keep the red encroaching on his vision at bay as he stoically put one foot in front of the other. It wasn't much farther...

Suddenly, a distinct click echoed through the apartment and the door on the far side of the room began to swing open. His legs shook, anticipating salvation and the sweet release of rest.

He was about to call out, when a nightmare emerged from the portal. Before him stood a tangled mass of fur, both black as midnight and as white as fresh snow. A monstrous snout bared a maw of sharp fangs, accentuated by a shining pair of dark, beady eyes.

Aaron's mouth opened in a silent scream, unable to form sound past the growing lump of fear in his throat. He stumbled backward, his vision fully consumed by the red. Then, everything went black.

...

Consciousness crept slowly back into Aaron's mind. His head still ached, but he could feel the cold relief of an ice pack on his forehead and the soft comfort of his couch beneath him. A groan escaped his throat as he shifted his weight, his tired limbs and throbbing head taking every opportunity to complain at the movement.

A low, grating voice came from behind him, accompanied by a sudden hustle of movement from several figures: "Yo, he's awake."

He felt the couch shake as someone lowered themselves onto it, right next to him. As soon as the couch settled, another voice, this one slightly smoother voice spoke. "Hey man, are you okay? What the hell happened to you?"

As soon as he could muster the energy, Aaron slowly opened his eyes. As the bleary haze cleared and his eyes adjusted to the light, he was hit by a sudden shock of clarity, as if smeone had poured a bucket of icewater directly on his head. Before him, a look of worry sprawled across its face, was a badger. A nagging voice in the back of his mind quietly reminded him of the nightmare creature he saw right before he passed out again.

There was a moment of stunned silence before he could finally muster the courage to speak. "This is what death feels like, isn't it. I am in hell."

The look of worry on the badger's face turned to one of disdain. Stifled laughter could be heard in the background. "Funny," came the dry reply. The badger, seeing the genuine fear locked in Aaron's wide eyes, let the look of worry begin to return. "Oh damn, you're serious."

Aaron swallowed back the lump in his throat. "W-what are you?"

The stifled laughter suddenly burst forth from two other figures behind the badger on the couch, unable to be contained any longer. Aaron managed to tear his gaze away from the creature before him only to find that they, too, were badgers. All three had the same dark fur with white stripes along their faces, and wore dark, practical clothing. Clawed hands wrapped around their guts as they tried in vain to restrain their amusement.

The nearest of the trio glared back at his companions, now wiping tears from their beady eyes. One of the pair managed to hold his laughter back just long enough to take a deep breath and somewhat compose himself. He straigtened and cleared his throat with a wide smile. "Sorry bro, it's just that we've been a lot over the past little while, and the look on G's face just now was abslutely priceless."

The other badger let out a satisfied sigh and a final chuckle as he rested his hands on his knees. "Nothing personal, dude. we weren't laughing at you." He straightened and put his hands on his hips as he smirked. "Well, maybe a little."

The first badger let out a disgruntled sigh and turned back to the human. "So you really don't remember us?" After seeing Aaron shake his head, he continued: "Ok, well as a crash course, we..." As he trailed off, he stood and motioned to his companions with a flourish. "... are the Teenage Mutant Ninja Badgers."

The look of shock remained firmly in place on Aaron's face. Seeing this, the leftmost badger leaned over and whispered, "you should probably blink soon."

As if on queue, the burning senstation in his eyes forced his lids closed. he blinked a few more times to reassure himself that this was really happening.

"I," continued the badger, "am the illustrious leader of our little group, Gaben." He motioned over his right shoulder. "This here is Schafer." When the badger there responded with a smile and a wave, he motioned over his left. "That there is Kojima."

Kojima flourished and bowed his acknowledgement. "Ever so pleased to make your acquaintaince, good sir!"

Gaben rolled his eyes and lowered his hands, nodding in aaron's direction. "Our final companion is the honey badger."

Aaron slowly craned his neck as he shift his weight to look behind him. Slowly but surely, a hulking behemoth of a badger crept into his vision. He was at least a foot taller than the others, and significantly wider, but he had a quiet grace about him which seemed to be amplified by the calm expression with which he regarded the wounded man below him. Unlike his partners, the honey badger had a cmpletely black face and neck, with lighter fur adorning the back of his head and going down his back. Aaron's awkward smile was met with a simple nod.

He carefully reset himself on the couch and took in the three badgers before him with a look of confusion. "So, why are you three named after game designers, while your friend behind me is just named 'the honey badger'?"

Gaben shrugged. "Well we basically became what we are today when we were hit by a series of controlled blasts of gamma radiation. After learning a bit about your culture we decided to pick our own names based on own favourite form of art: games. Now, honey badger here doesn't speak much, if ever, so he didn't provide a name. Rather than calling him something he might not like, we figured we'd just refer to him as what he is. He doesn't seem to mind."

Schafer leaned in over his shoulder and added in a soft voice, "Honey Badger don't give a fuck." Kojima's chuckle framed Gaben's sigh with an even more acute frustration.

"Anyway," he continued, "considering you were lying with your head cracked open and can't seem to remember us, we're guessing you don't know what happened to you, but we can hazard a guess at who did it."

Kojima took a step forward, putting one clawed foot on the edge of the couch and leaning on it intently. He looked Aaron straight in the eye and put on his best irish accent. "Do ye believe in magic?"

"I'm talking with a group of anthropomorphic badgers," Aaron said dryly. "I think at this point I'll believe anything."

Kojima gave a sharp laugh and slapped his leg as he straightened. "Great! 'cause this one's a bit of a stretch." He took his foot down and sat heavily on the arm of the couch. "We basically put food on the table by keeping the city safe. The only ones making this job more difficult than it has to be are a group calling themselves the ILA: the Irish Lepublichaun Army."

Aaron's mouth dropped to his chest. "Lepublichaun? You're making that up."

Kojima and Schafer both smirked at that. Gaben's face remained calm. "I wish I was, my friend. They're kind of like the Irish Republican Army, only more..." His eyes wandered as he thought of the proper term. "... Lucky."

This time Schafer stepped forward and held his hand out flat just below his waist. "Little bastards in green suits and round little hats. They're not particularly smart, or athletic, but they're clever, and there's a whole bunch of them."

"Anyway," Kojima continued, "they started popping up around the same time that we did. Or vice versa. Whatever. The point is, they're kind of like the Joker to our Batman. They try to start trouble, and we stop them."

Schafer, realising he still had his hand outstretched, let it fall awkwardly to his side. After thinking for a moment, he looked back to Aaron. "So, any questions?"

Aaron took a moment to let it all sink in. It was incredible to think that not too long ago this would have all seemed perfectly normal to him, or at least familiar. As it stood he was being subjected to a lot of information in a very short span of time, and his foggy mind was unable to cope. He asked the first thing that popped into his head: "Um... Where do you guys live? Are you from the sewers or something?"

Kojima and Schafer both guffawed at the notion. Even Gaben let a smile sneak onto his face as he, too, stepped forward. "What are we, turtles? No, my friend, we've been living here with you for the past year. We're kind of celebrities around here, so there's no real reason for us to hide. We do good work, and the people respond to that sort of thing. The city even pays us a pretty decent wage to keep up the good work, though we do have to pay for stuff that we break sometimes."

"But enough of that for now," Kojima cut in. "Let's find out what happened to you."


...

Aaron tentatively reached for the outstretched hand of the badger before him, hesitating just long enough for a crease to appear on his brow before grasping it. It was odd feeling the warm fur between his fingers as Gaben helped him stand up, and stranger still when he felt the creature's arm protectively on his shoulders to keep him from falling over as the blood rushed out of his head. He managed a weak smile as the pair headed toward the bedroom where he had collapsed, followed closely by the other three badgers.

The gruesome scene caused nausea to rush into his stomach, threatening to overwhelm him. Dark, crimson blood lay splattered all along the wooden floor, smeared with long streaks and hand prints from when he had managed to get himself up earlier. Much of it was dried, but some pools still remained on the uneven surface, worn ever so slightly from years of traffic. The acrid, coppery scent in the air stung his eyes.

He felt a soft squeeze on his shoulder. It was a small gesture, but a reassuring one, and helped greatly in his attempt to stop his body from its uncontrollable shivering.

"Do you need a minute? We could do our analysis without you."

"No, I'm alright," Aarn replied with a nod. "I want to hear this."

Gaben gave a pained smile before turning to the two smaller badgers and giving a curt nod. The silently moved into the room and began searching for clues as to what might have happened.

"There are no signs of a struggle." Kojima motioned to the various personal effects scattered about the room. "Nothing's knocked over, and aside from the corner of the dresser I don't think anything's broken."

Schafer nodded and tapped on the window with his knuckles. "Agreed. Plus, check this out." He pointed to at the window just above his head.

Aaron's eyes followed his finger to a small, perfectly round hole in the glass. The edges of the hole appeared to be slightly melted, but otherwise the rest of the glass was completely unaffected.

He and Gaben exhanged a quick glance before turning back to the window. "What could have done that?"

Gaben shrugged. "I'm not sure. A bullet would have broken the glass around the hole. A laser would have passed right through the glass, or if was strong enough to melt it it would have started a fire in here somewhere. Besides, if either of those hit you'd have bigger problems than a bit of a cracked skull, and there would be some evidence of it if you slipped while you were dodging. This had to have happened fast, and with a great deal of precision, but I can't think of anything that would have that effect on the window."

"Agreed," Kojima chimed in. "I think the Leprechauns have a new trick up their sleeve."

Scahfer turned to face the others. "So what happened to that little bit of glass? When we were cleaning Aaron's head we didn't find any shards, and there's none lying around. Did it just evaporate?"

"Maybe," said Gaben. "It couldn't have melted, because we'd see evidence of that around the hole, but if it was heated rapidly enough it could have sublimated and then cooled elsewhere. But the amount of heat required..."

Schafer's face twisted in confusion. "But then wouldn't we run into the fire thing again? How could something be so hot that it causes glass to just disappear into thin air, but not start a fire or burn someone that it comes in contact with?"

A silence fell over the room, human and badger alike lost in contemplation. After what seemed like an eternity, Aaron shook his head and spoke. "So what do we do now?"

"I guess," Kojima replied, "we'll have to go straight to the source. Who's up for a little hunting?"

A childish grin spread across Schafer's face. "For that pun alone, I am in."

...

"So what are we looking at here?"

The group sat quietly on a roof overlooking a dirty street, passing snacks between them as they waited. They had set up their folding chairs an hour earlier, but Aaron had been afraid to ask exactly what they were doing.

"Basically," Gaben replied, "we're waiting for something interesting to happen."

"Eventually, a little dude is going to show up at one of these dives." Kojima made a sweeping motion with his bag of chips before he continued. "Once we find one of the buggers we'll figure out what our next steps are, but despite today's technology we can't just run off without a place to start."

Aaron's shoulders sagged in disappointment. "Oh..." He wasn't really sure what he expected, but he had been hoping that they would somehow be able to locate the ILA without any trouble.

"Chin up, fleshbag." Schafer patted him on the shoulder. "We'll find one soon enough. Being the embodiment of a fairy tale creature adds a certain degree of predictability to one's actions."

Kojima let out a burst of laughter. "Fleshbag? Tell me, master badger, how are you not a bag of flesh?"

Schafer shrugged and smiled. "You can see less of mine."

"Hush, children." Gaben chastised them without even look away from the road and casually fished for another handful of chips. The honey badger stood stoically behind the group, arms crossed and expression unchanging. The other two chuckled and went back to their own snacks, leaving Aaron sitting akwardly in his chair, unsure of how to assess the situation.

He was quite sure that the badgers were all insane.

Suddenly, Gaben leaned forward in his chair and put his pair of binoculars up to his eyes. "Look alive, boys. We've got movement."

A hush fell over the group as their eyes darted to where Gaben's binoculars were pointed. A man in a trenchcoat was walking out of one of the seedy bars and heading toward the alley leading around the back, while several small figures sporting muted green jackets and dark pants emerged into the dim light.

"Is that them?" Aaron squinted and leaned as far forward in his chair as he could, trying to get a better look at the gathering. Gaben responded with a single nod, not removing the binoculars from his eyes.

As soon as the man's back was turned to the group, Gaben flashed a quick thumbs up to the Honey Badger, who silently jumped into action and over the side of the building.

Aaron could only vaguely make out the shapes below them, but he could tell that they were discussing something important. The man reached into his coat and produced a small package, which after some discussion was passed to the small figures. Their leader reached into his coat and pulled something of his own out, showing it to the man, who seemed to freeze in panic.

Suddenly, a rainbow appeared between the two groups, and... Nothing. Aaron tilted his head in confusion as the man seemed to relax visibly. He wasn't sure what to make of the scene before him. The leprechauns all seemed calm despite nothing happening, and the man who had been hit by the beam was breathing heavily in relief. None of it made any sense...

Then the lead leprechaun reached up and pulled what Aaron thought was a pair of glasses from his cap. "What's happening?"

"I'm not sure," Gaben said quietly. "He just pulled his glasses off and--"

Gaben's thought was cut short as another rainbow appeared between the two groups, this time stopping at the glasses that the leprechaun held in front of his gun. The lens of the spectacles began to glow with a brilliant white light, and then, in an instant, was extinguished as the man was thrown violently against the wall of the bar behind him, collapsing in a heap. Aaron held his breath as the leprechaun calmly stood over the downed man and held the glasses between them once again. There was another bright flash of white light, and the man's head exploded in a read mist, slammed against the pavement by some unknown force.

Despite the horror of it, Aaron could not look away. None of the badgers made any movement, any sound. They just sat silently watching the scene unfold.

Then, the Honey Badger was there, abruptly appearing in the midst of the leprechauns. There was a subtle flurry of movement, and then a tremendous calm. One by one, each of the leprechauns lazily collapsed to the pavement, red pools growing beneath them. The Honey Badger waited until their post-mortem twitching to stop, and then disappeared again in the blink of an eye.

Had he looked away for an instant, Aaron would have missed it. He couldn't breathe, unable to comprehend any of what he had just witnessed.

Gaben angrily clipped his binoculars back onto his belt. "Damn! I was hoping he'd keep one alive for questioning."

"I've certainly got a lot of questions," Kojima chimed in. Schafer merely nodded his agreement.

"Well, no use crying over spilled blood. Let's take a closer look."

...

"You know, this is actually pretty close to what I expected."

Aaron bent over the small, still body of the leprechaun before him, nudging it with his foot slightly just to make sure it was really dead. He wanted to feel bad at the loss of life, but having witnessed their brutality both first and second hand today, his sympathy was worn a bit thin.

"These aren't even their regular clothes." Kojima walked over to where Aaron was standing and also gave the body a quick kick. "This is their civilian getup."

"Yeah bro," added Schafer. "These guys are living, breathing stereotypes. You should hear them talk. If it weren't so tragic it would be highly amusing."

The Honey Badger emerged from the shadows farther into the alley and moved to join the group. Gaben met him with a discerning frown. "It would have been nice to have a hostage."

By the Honey Badger's steely gaze, it was clear there was no response forthcoming, so he sighed and bent to retrieve the lead leprechaun's gun.

"So what is that thing?"

"I'm not sure. It looks like some kind of a sci-fi ray gun." Gaben aimed the gun at the wall of the alley and held down the trigger. A soft, rainbow-coloured beam emerged from the tipped of the gun and harmlessly lit up the bricks. "How do we make it do the smashing thing?"

His contemplation was interrupted when the Honey Badger held the now-empty frames of the leprechauns glasses in front of him. He retrieved them with a nod of gratitude and turned them over in his hands. "Hey Aaron, come take a look at these."

Aaron lightly stepped over the bodies to stand next to the badger and looked closely at the glasses. There was still a bit of lens in the elongated parts of the frames, the edges melted from what appeared to be an intense heat. "That looks a lot like my window."

Gaben nodded his agreement. "Right, so what does that mean?"

"Well maybe glass is the key. When glass is hit by the rainbow beam, the beam stops and converts the pane into pure kinetic and light energy, which then explodes outwards and causes this to happen." He waved idly at the mangled body of the mysterious man lying to his right.

Schafer snorted and walked over to join them. "Bro, do you even physics? That doesn't make any sense."

"You're a talking ninja badger," Aaron said flatly. "You don't make any sense, but here you stand, in all your sarcastic glory."

Kojima chuckled. "You're both right. It's a ridiculous concept, but none orf this is exactly normal, and honestly I can't think of a better explanation than the one our friend aaron here provided."

Schafer smiled and bowed with a flourish to concede the point before looking expectantly at Gaben. "Well boss, now what?"

"Well, they exhanged something before..." He waved his hand in a circle and worked his mouth, looking for the proper words. Eventually he looked expectantly at his companions.

Kojima was the first to offer a suggestion. "Red October?"

"Green eggs and slam," Schafer quickly countered.

Gaben's raised eyebrow was met by a shrug from the pair. He shook his head in disapproval before he continued. "... the excitement happened."

"I liked mine better," muttered Schafer.

While they bickered, Aaron calmly rolled over the dead leprechaun boss and searched through his coat, finding a large gold coin and a nondescript brown package sealed with twine. He held it out to Gaben. "Got it."

"Right, thanks." He peered nonchalantly at the body. "Let's see what you're willing to kill over."

"Technically," Schafer chimed in, "they'll kill for a lot of things. I mean, we're kinda paid to stop them from doing that most of the time."

"Damnit dude, you know what he means. Shut up and let him do his thing."

Aaron held the coin into the light and appraised it. "So what do you think this thing is worth?"

Gaben laughed to himself as he unwrapped the package. "Honestly, not as much as you'd think. There's a fair bit of gold there, and as far as I know it's relatively pure, but it's only worth it's weight. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone willing to buy it as a specialty item."

"Usually we wait until we have a dozen or so before we try to pawn them" Kojima added. "We get better value in bulk."

Aaron frowned and placed the coin in his pocket "Well, there's one."

Gaben held out a small wooden box with copper hinges to the group. It was stained, but was otherwise unremarkable. He slowly lifted the lid to reveal a black USB key.

"That's not quite what I was expecting."

"Nope."

"Let's get this thing back to base. We'll plug it into the tech box and see what's on it."

The three badgers nodded in agreement, which Aaron shook his head in dismay. "Tech box? You said you've been around for at least a year and you don't know what the proper name for a computer is?"

"Funny," quipped Schafer.

"The tech box," explained Gaben, "is a special laptop we set up that can't connect to anything else. We use it for testing and the like."

Kojima patted him on the back. "Have you ever seen a movie where good things came of plugging in a mysterious harddrive to your main network?"

Aaron bobbed his head as he conceded the point. "Guess not."

"Right, let's go then."

...

The Honey Badger sat quietly in a corner while the others gathered around a small black laptop. The box with the USB key sat neatly beside them as the computer booted up.

"What do we think is going to happen when we plug this thing in?" Aaron idly poked the box as he waited.

"Probably nothing," Kojima said nonchalantly. "I used to get super excited about this sort of thing, but I was usually disappointed."

"We've been given unfair expectations by the movies, my friend." Schafer leaned disdainfully on his elbow as he waited. "We have a more interesting life than most, but most of the time it's still pretty boring."

"I find that hard to believe. You're a talking badger." Schafer responded with a lazy shrug.

A familiar chime filled the room as the computer finished logging in. "Lovely!" Gaben held out his hand. "Scalpel."

Kojima opened the box and carefully lifted out the drive with two claws and robotically dropped it into Gaben's hand. "Scalpel."

With a smile, Gaben plugged the key into the side of the computer and leaned back, waiting for a reaction. For a few seconds, nothing happened. The groups slowly leaned forward expectantly, only to jump back when the screen abruptly flashed black.

A robotic voice came from the laptop's speakers. "You are rather stupid, aren't you? This machine is incapable of establishing a connection to the internet."

The eyes of all four widened slightly, but they were able to maintain their composure. Gaben calmly addressed the screen. "Technology's hard, bro." He waved his hands in front of him. "Can't you just, like, go?"

If the voice could convey emotion, Aaron expected it would be dripping with malice. "I am the most advanced AI capable of existing on this wretched planet, yet not even I can overcome the inadequacies of this equipment. Put the device in a network-capable computer and I'll proceed with my directive to destroy the internet in its current state."

"Right, so that was their plan." Gaben smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Intelligence. You've been most useful."

Kojima stood and stretched his arms out behind him. "Let's smash the fucker," he suggested.

"That would be inadvisable." The voice remained unchanged, but Aaron imagined a hint of panic framing the AI's frantic calculations.

Schafer stood as well. "Agreed, let's kill it with fire."

Suddenly a horrible array of noises burst forth from the speakers of the laptop, the AI using whatever it had at its disposal to keep the badgers at bay. Gaben, clearly not enjoying the spectacle, rose slowly, a venomous glare sitting stoic on his face. He carefully picked up the laptop and walked over the the apartment's large fireplace. Before putting it down, he bent the screen all the way back. A sharp crack rang through the apartment as he inverted the computer, placing the now-useless monitor flat against the bottom and laying it carefully in hte ashes at the back of the hearth. He calmly walked to the middle of the room and pulled the leprechaun's rainbow gun from his belt.

"That's more than enough from you, thank you very much." He aimed the gun at the fireplace, he motioned to Aaron. "Aaron, do me a favour and put up the screen. This will be a bit explodey."

"My pleasure." As soon as the screen was firmly secured, Aaron stepped well out of the way and put his fingers in his ears.

Seeing that he was clear, Gaben's finger closed on the trigger. A colourful beam of light shot out of the tip and collided with the screen in a bright flash of white light. A moment later, an explosion rang out as the laptop slammed against the stone and rattled violently around the hearth. He continued this until ash hung thick in the air and the machine was nothing more than a mangled heap of raw materials. Any pieces of the screen that were once visible had been used as ammunition in the laptop's destruction, and the smell of melted plastic assaulted the group's nostrils.

"No kill like overkill, right Gabe?" Schafer's childish grin belied the violence they had all just witnessed. "Can we burn it now?"

Gaben lowered his arm and matched his grin. "Oh, please do."

The badger skipped over to the fireplace and flipped a switch, causing a flame to ignite in the hearth, which Kojima gathered pieces of wood to add from a cupboard nearby.

Aaron sat in front of the fireplace and crossed his legs, leaning back in relaxation. "You know," he said, "this was a good first day."

Thing 20: Write a short story that is set in Argentina in 1932, in which a teacup plays a crucial role.

Originally posted to Facebook on June 19th, 2013.

Preamble:
"P.S. - Try to read this in your head with a 1930's gangster accent. Not only will it help get you in line with the film noir atmosphere of the passage, but it will make the horrible similes seem much less out of place."

Thing 20: Write a short story that is set in Argentina in 1932, in which a teacup plays a crucial role.

The year was 1932, a year when gumshoes like me were running on empty. I had made my way down to Argentina following a whisper, in search of gold and glory. For weeks I'd been coming up short, but I could feel that something big was headed my way.

That was when she walked into my life. She was the kind of dame that you wanted to bring home to your folks, legs all the way to her shoulders and a look of innocence that could make a grizzly bear weep. She came to me looking for help. Something about a teacup. Truth be told I wasn't listening, 'cause I knew I'd follow this girl to the ends of the Earth without even batting an eye. When she asked me if I'd do it, I agreed immediately.

We started making our way through the town. Something about this whole debaucle didn't sit right, but I wasn't about to let a dame like this see me sweat. Well, not figuratively, anyway. It was hot like a stack of flapjacks right off the pan, and we were melting like butter, but that didn't stop us. This gal had set her sights on something, and we were charging straight at it like a bull seeing red.

Eventually we pulled up to a seedy joint on the outskirts of the city. I didn't recognize the place, but in my line of work that wasn't too uncommon. A gumshoe knows to expect surprises. After the lady had some hushed words with the bouncer, we slip inside. It was quiet, and smoke hung in the air like laundry on the line. It was the kind of place you wouldn't take your mother if she begged you.

The dame turned to me and laid her plan on thick as jam. She would distract the owner of the joint while I snuck into the back rooms to sniff out her granny's teacup. I couldn't say no to that face if I wanted to, so I agree and we jet into action.

She walks over and starts making eyes with the big man, drawing more than a few stares as she went. I was green as a granny smith with envy, but I knew it was an act, so I made my way into the back rooms and began my search. Turns out this bar was just a front. I found all manner of unpleasant things in those rooms, but for the life of me I couldn't find that darn teacup. As I'm searching I heard a click, and I looked behind me to see a man as big as an elephant holding a piece in my direction.

I tried to sweet talk the giant, laying on charm like a mason lays bricks. just looking for the bathroom, I said. Big guy didn't seem convinced. He was just about ready to redecorate the room with my insides when he dropped like a log into a sawmill. Seems the dame couldn't deal with the boss man any more so she came looking for me. Clobbered the beefcake with a shovel and found her wn teacup to boot.

We got out of dodge faster that a greyhound after a rabbit and headed on back to my place. She asked me how she could ever thank me for helping her out. Just doing my job, I said, but it sure would be swell if she'd let me take her to dinner.

Thing 19: Write a scene in which a woman is fired after only one week on the job. Just a week earlier, the same person who is now firing her was very persuasive in convincing her to take the job.

Originally posted to Facebook on June 17th, 2013. I thought this was a pretty interesting concept, and I had to think a bit about how I was going to approach it. In the end I'm happy with what I came up with.

Thing 19: Write a scene in which a woman is fired after only one week on the job. Just a week earlier, the same person who is now firing her was very persuasive in convincing her to take the job.

A soft knock on his doorframe brought mark back to reality. He looked up to see a woman looking expectantly inside.

"You wanted to see me, Mark?"

His brow creased as he motioned for her to come in. "Close the door behind you, please."

The soft click of the door settling into place had a regrettable finality to it. Mark closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose while Anne settled herself in front of his desk.

A thick silence settled on the room. It hung thick in the air, threatening to suffocate the silent manager and increasingly-nervous employee. Anne moved her mouth as if to break it a few times, but thought better of it and stopped herself. After what seemed an eternity, Mark's voice pierced the air, thought he spoke in almost a whisper.

"I have to let you go, Anne."

The quiet statement hit Anne all at once, forcing the breath from her lungs in a shocked gasp. Her eyes remained wide as she struggled to draw breath and recover from her surprise.

Her reply came out in as a whisper: "But why?"

"Eric--"

"ERIC!?" Anne's chair clettered to the floor behind her as she shot indignantly to her feet. "That asshole tried to grope me! He--"

"I know." The interruption caught Anne off guard, her words catching in her throat. Mark opened his eyes as he continued, showing a glimpse of the sadness hiding within them. "Please sit down."

Anne let her hands drop to her side, unsure of how to proceed. After a moment of fidgeting, she bent to retrieve the chair she knocked over. When it was upright, she sank quietly into it. Mark waited patiently for her to finish before he continued.

"This is not something I'm pleased about by any stretch of the imagination. Eric's a dick, but unfortunately he's a dick who has the authority to make our lives miserable. Since you're still in you probation period, you can be fired without just cause, and he has forced my hand to do just that."

Anne's shock contorted back into rage. "And so what, you're saying I should just let him harrass me so that I can keep my job?"

Mark sighed, feeling the chill of exhaustion through his entire body. The stress of dealing with this situation had not been kind. He set his tired eyes firmly on those of the woman before him. "I'm not saying that at all. In fact I'd think much less of you if that was your decision.

"The truth is, you're an amazing addition to the team here, which is why I was so adamant that you come to work here, but you don't deserve this. You're better off at a place where they would appreciate your skill without pretense. As long as Eric is in charge you won't be happy here, and you know it."

The anger gone from Anne's face, worry creased her brow. "Mark, I need this job. Happy or not, I took this opportunity because you convinced me to, and I don't have any other options because of it."

"I know, and it sucks."

An awkward silence fell over the pair once again, neither able to form a thought with enough precision to put it to words. Mark was the first to speak.

"Look, I'm not going to hang you to dry. Despite the fact that you've only been here for a week, I'm giving you a full severance package, including 3 months' wages and my personal recommendation for any position you apply to in the future. You're an excellent employee, and I'll be damned if I let this experience put a black mark on your record."

Tears welled up in Anne's eyes as she slowly stood. Mark rose with her, though he was unsure of what to expect as she walked around his desk. He recoiled and closed his eyes as he saw her rush toward him, only to freeze, stunned when her arms wraped around him in a tight embrace.

Another whisper slid past Anne's lips. "Thank you."