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A Slice of Posts!

Ever had one of those moments where you had a good idea, but didn’t write it down because you’re with friends? That happens to me so often, it kills the development of posts for this blog. Which also explains the lack of stories on this blog. But I guess I have to face it and get on with my life huh?

Where would we be without a way to post things? Posts are so versatile and friendly. I can’t imagine life without them. Have you ever really taken the time to think? I mean, think about all the posts in the world!

There’s post boxes, blog posts, military posts, forum post, Corinthian, power-on self-tests, Post cereals, New York Post, The Washington Post, The Christian Post, The Jerusalem Post, The Sunday Post, National Post, The Sunday Business Post, Australasian Post, and even a Post Magazine! Heck, this in itself is a post! So many things in the world use the word, “post”!

Just imagine a world without a postal service. We’d collapse as a system! Where are we without our communications systems? Where would we keep all the post service workers? Would they go…postal? Haha, no. It’s quite hard to imagine a world without the postal service ever existing. Many of our communications systems are based on the very foundations of the postal system, and without it, communications over long distances would be hard. Think of the people!

He Went Postal

“Honey, have you heard from Bob? Ever since our mailbox disappeared, we haven’t any letters.” , asked Jim. His melancholic wife, Cassidy, turned towards hopeful Jim, and shattered his dreams by telling him, “No…Jim…Bob is dead. He’s gone!” Jim looked down, his heart pulling him closer and closer to the ground. “This…this cannot be! When?” questioned Jim. Cassidy cast her view across the room and out the window, trying to get out of Jim’s cross hairs.

“Months ago…we lost our box the day we lost him,” remarked Cassidy. Jim voice began to crack as he asked, “How…how could this happen?” Cassidy looked out the window with a stark look on her face. Shadows from the window frame rested on her face.

“He was murdered. We found Kim next to his body…” Jim was now silent as stone. Mind and body stricken with mournful feelings, Jim was at a complete loss. Tears flooded the room with sadness as rain fell from his eyes. Cassidy looked at Jim with sympathy, and comforted him. But comfort wasn’t what Jim was looking for. Comfort wasn’t what he needed. He needed to send revenge towards those responsible.

The next day, Jim left early before his wife had gotten up. A post-it note reading, “Won’t be catching you around. Love, Jim” was left on the counter alongside a cold plate of breakfast. Cassidy never heard from Jim again, not until that final day where he waved good bye from the depths of the ground.

A Slice of Slicing

Hi! It’s been awhile, hasn’t it. Well, I don’t have a story for you yet, but I’ve got a few tips for any writers out there that write in composition books like me! Ever had a moment where you juts gotta get a page out, but tearing it out is too reckless and might ruin your work? If that’s you, this is the post you need.

What You’ll Need

A Hand

A Pen or Pencil

A Composition Book

What to Do

1. Find the innermost edge of the sheet of paper you’ve written on and want to tear out. (i.e. the point right before you meet the seams of the composition book)

2. Take your pen and pencil and draw a straight line from the top to the bottom, right off the page. You may want to do this once or twice.

3. Tug at one end of the page like you would with a machine-perforated page. Once you come a couple lines down the road, you should be fine, but be careful on areas where you haven’t really done anything.

So, yeah…

Thanks for reading? I’ll have a story within the next two days, I just need to revise and clean it up a bit.

A Slice of Manufacturers

A pink factory huffs and puffs in the distance. It’s smoke stack are overflowing with smoke black as night.  The work whistle blows once more and little workers shuffle inside to dig away at humanity’s cost. Smog lounges around, high up in our air where it shows no signs of worry. Sludge pours out and into a river black with our unused potential we’ve cast aside as trash. “Clang! Clang! Clang!” “Whirr! Whirr! Whirr!” “Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.” The factory roars a cacophony of deafening sounds. Howling wind flies by the factory,  tossing the fast food wrapper across the barren landscape. The factory has people in it working all day long with little breaks to stave off the people’s ever growing disapproving dissent to meet the audience’s wild demands. In such a depressing world, everyone is desperate for some source of happiness;  maybe it be love or sex or mischief or trickery, the veil hiding the silent tears of those longing a sense of self fulfillment keeps the masses shut away from the sadness of lesser known people. These lesser known people often are the very men and women that you pass by on the streets.

One day, all of their voices were heard by the masses. Their hardships and suffering were to be forever known to the world at one point, however, forever gone the next.  In this, a figure would rise to the top through the manipulation of mankind’s emotions. His plan was simple, “Sell something that appeals to the people, and they will buy it.” Through this, he toppled local practices and traditions with his power and washed everything away in one destructive wave. In place, restructuring began as he built his land. The incentive was happiness and prosperity in exchange for hard work put into restoring the land as he saw fit. He removed the game pieces he saw unneeded and added his own in place. What was once the people’s was now his. But this god-like power wasn’t simply obtained through forceful means but by the people. He became the figure that people now accepted as leader. His power would guide and rule the world   to obtain required materials.

Soon after the promotion, people began to think once more. In a land ruled by one, what about the wants and needs of the people? The ruler simply ignored any forms of public disapproval, despite the severity of the action he’s taken. His worst and yet best moment in time lies after the pure carnage of nature became apparent. He told everyone to remain calm and that all would be fine for he had a new, marvelous, and amazing idea that would cure everyone of their disease. Depression and suicide would become a thing of the past. People were approving of the idea and his stall opened the very next day.  It sold as fast as the factory could produce it. No longer would people face the effects of heavy thoughts. He had found the answer. With this, they flourished. But what was the cost? Little. What was the benefit? Enormous. His success drove him the the top of the world.  The idea would have to be replenished over and over, thus leading to increased profit and production. Eventually, production rates over took demand and the price fell.  But now everyone was happy. No one was sad. After all, why would you stay sad when happiness and prosperity was a $1.99 away?

A Slice of Loneliness

Oh gosh. I have no life whatsoever. I’m sitting here at pretty much midnight and I still haven’t even touched my homework. I think over my life. But I’m too lazy to do that.

Tap! Tap! Tap! Tap! Keyboard keys clack as I press them one by one. Even though I’ve never really taken any typing classes, I can type fairly well without looking at the keyboard. Imprinted, I know all the keys. Colors and shades burn into my eyes because I never blink. In a world of endless entertainment, the internet serves as the best media out there. Everything’s on there. From music at Axcid to video at YouTube, all the entertainment I could ever want is right here. Friends, family, social networking does everything from the computer. But is it enough?

I’ve stared into a bright white light all my life. From first grade to tenth, I’ve traveled the lands of the internet. YouTube’s been nice; I’ve subscribed to a couple people. MySpace was weird for me, but I moved on with Facebook not long afterwards. Wikipedia was a world of information, and daily newspapers are available online. Now in the Blogosphere, I’m writing a little bit of everything I can think of. I’ve given up on running my site, and found a calling. But is this really it? My life, all in an electronic box?

My life couldn’t be completely encased in a box of metal. No, it couldn’t be, it just couldn’t. I mean, there are people out there who’s spent their entire lives online with no friends in person that they could just hop in a car and drive out to. But what have I done outside of computers? Everything I have, everything I’ve done has had something to do with a computer. I got my friends through the internet. I got everything through the internet. The internet is my life.

So then, what am I? Am I just a computer nerd? Is that it? But it can’t be; I mean, there has to be much more to me than just computers. What have I been doing when I’m away from the computer?

Nothing really. Other than just hang out with people. my life is a dull pit of electronics.

Listening to the hum of my hard drive, I can’t help but wonder. What now?

A Slice of Bus Passes

Today was a very bad day. I was already running late for school and I wasn’t going to see Pepper because I had to see a teacher about an assignment she has questions on. Tired, sleepy, and aching, I had to make my way to school.

It was 8:44AM. The door had just shut behind me. A warm winter breeze blew across my face. Feeling happy and giddy, I looked at the time. I already missed two buses. The wind blew pitifully behind me, and I jumped to the road, hitting the ground running. Tile after tile of sidewalk fell out of sight as I raced down the cement path. Staring at the horizon, wishing I was already there, I ran even harder! By now I was practically picking myself up because I was tripping every step along the way! My legs were on fire, dashing down the hill! Am I gonna make it? Am I going to miss the next bus? Worries flooded my mind, but I kept running and running! I made it all the way down but can I run up the next? Clack-clack-clack! Each footstep was like a booming earthquake as I stomped the ground, launching my shuttle shoes with rocket fuel, blasting me all the way up to the top!

Sizzling rubber and plastic, my shoes have burned their very soles into the ground. But I made it. I made it in time for the bus. I wasn’t in the clear yet though. Tick-tock-tick-tock, time ticks down to the minute I can sit down and get some help on my work. Miraculously, the bus arrives! Two yellow lights flicker in the distance! Three numbers stay a solid green on the display and the colossal machine pulls into the lane. I reach into my little white box. But where was my card? I looked in all the pockets and crevices in my backpack, but no sign of the card! I tore and poured open the box, unleashing my games from their boxed prison. They wage war with the ground as they drop, smashing into the ground but the bus pass was nowhere. I had forgotten it.

I hastily gathered up my games and stuffed them back inside. I whipped out my phone and called home. Telling them what just happened, they point out something really stupid of me to overlook. I had money with me. Paying for the bus for once wouldn’t hurt. But the bridge had burned away. The bus had left. I had begun to run back. Tired and desperate, I sprinted all the way back. Down the hill and up, I desperately made my way through and back home.

Slipping back inside, I grabbed my card from underneath my Big Big Loader and flew out the door! No time to waste! School was waiting and I couldn’t let it stay like this any longer! I raced down the hill and up another! Fly Terry, fly! Spread your wings and soar to the top of the sky and catch the bus! Managing to reach the top, I celebrated with joy! But have I become  tardy? The happiness doesn’t last long. But at least, I learned something today.

Never. Ever. Forget. The. Pass.

A Slice of Pinball People

Who likes a good game of pinball? A lot of people would say yes to that. Pinball’s been around for at least a century! People loved it then and still do now! But imagine a world of pinball people. I mean, you’d have to have some outside entity launch you where you would want to go! Must be hard to live life as a pinball. What if everyone turned into a pinball all of a sudden? Everyday life would have to be completely redesigned!

Paul the Pinman

A shiny silver ball drops from the sky. Spinning and confused, it tries to grasp it’s bearings. A seemingly endless swirl pulls back and the ball follows suit. Where am I? What’s going on? Questions race through it’s tiny little steel mind. A voice calls out, “Ready? Let’s go!” Suddenly,  the pinball is blasted forward with blinding speed! “You’re ready for prime time kid! C’mon, show me the money!” shouts the voice.

***

“Hey, honey, need anything at Pinget?” shouts Paul. Flying from bumper to bumper, Pail gets a response from Paula, “Yeah! Some pelatin!” Before Paul can even A-OK it, he flies up a ramp and hits a jackpot tunnel! “We’re rich! Oh my pinpins, we’re rich!” Oh, oops, sorry, you only won two pollars. “Gosh darn it,” said Paul. “Do I get anything else?” asked Paul. The skies glowed and a big bag fell from the heavens above. “Oh Pally! Thank the heavens!” praised Paul. But Paul, things aren’t going to be that easy. When Paul opened the bag, a pillar of fire burst out from the bag. “Gosh darns! Now I’m all charred up and lost my sheen!” exclaimed Paul. You know you can’t win Paul. Give up already! “Why are you doing this to me?!” asked Paul. “I’ll just go to Pinget and get my gosh darned carp,” grumbled Paul. Then don’t forget the pelatin!

Pelatin fell from the sky in jiggling little cubes, splattering when they hit the ground. Splat, splat, splat, went the pelatin. Paul screamed in joy and his happiness could be known all over the world! Rejoice Paul! “Oh finally! Parma has rewarded me!” screamed Paul in cheerful bliss! His cold steel heart melted and he began to reshape! Sparkling with molten metal, he turned into a mushed up pile of metal. He looked up, muttering “Ah gosh.” between sighs. At least you got the pelatin you wanted. “Well, not like this.” Why? “I don’t want to be mush.” I can change that. “Oh really? Into what? Pinpoo?” No. You’ll be a pinman. “What’s a pinman?” This. At the snap of my fingers, he was reformed! “Woah. I have stubs! Long stubs! This is amazing!” Now go run home pinman, run home! “Thank you strange voice!” Don’t thank me, thank the heavens.

With his newfound abilities, Paul the Pinman picked up tons and tons of pelatin and brought it home. However, his wife refused to accept his redesigned body and reported him to the police where he was subsequently arrested and cremated to be part of Mother Pearth’s soil. He is currently raising some flowers.

R.I.P. Paul the Pinman

Poctober 17, 2009-Poctober 18, 2009

Author’s Notes

I’m sorry. Slice of Paper’s been on a three week hiatus, and all I have to show for is a short messy story. But I’ve finally started properly writing down my ideas and I’ve recently bought a new notebook, so here’s to another couple blog posts of stories! Thanks for you continued support. I love you guys.

A Slice of Safeway Lady

Just a few days ago, I was walking around Safeway with Pepper, shopping for random little foods like baby corn. You know, there is a lot of sodium in everything we eat. To top my own sodium consumption off, I eat salt right from the container. Not the shaker, but for example, the Morton Table Salt container. But the story is way more entertaining than my babbling, so let’s get a move on.

I pulled a small can from the shelf and told her, “Hey, this baby corn has like, 10mg of sodium per serving.” She shook her head in disapproval because she didn’t  have enough money to cover it. Her dad only gave her $10 for grocery shopping. I got up and dusted myself. Wandering off onto the next shelf of goodies, I decided to keep looking at the corn when all of a sudden I heard this shocking sound! “Oh yes! Oh god yes! Oh my gosh I finally! Oh my gosh I can’t believe it! Yes,” shouted the woman. Amused, I shushed Pepper in the middle of her rant about corn and listened in even more the insanity. “Ahahahahaahah! YES! YES!”, shouted the lady! Did someone propose to her? I don’t think getting proposed to in Safeway is very romantic. But I guess it could work somehow.

“Honey, what do you think of macaroni and cheese for tonight?” asked the man. His eyes viciously stared into the mac’ n’ cheese’ picture on the box. The dinosaur’s grin, piercing his very mind and soul. Controlling him, driving his determination and heart.  The lady frown and told him, “There’s too much sodium in it, and I thought you liked my mac’ n’ cheese better.” Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, went his heart. Instantly, he was filled with love and wild passion for her! “Yeah…but there’s something I love even more,” spoken by the man. Slowly, step by step, the love drew him closer and closer to her. “If it’s chips, you can forget it,” warned the women, but she wasn’t warned for what was about to take place. “Nikki, will you take my hand in marriage as your lawfully wedded husband?” proposed the man. Tofu, salad greens, and organic watermelons fell to the floor. “Yes! YES! Oh god yes! My god yes! Yes! YES! YES YES YES!” screamed Nikki in total glee! The speakers blared Frank Sinatra’s My One and Only Love over the loudspeaker and the lights darkened all around. Shoppers aww’d over the couple’s new engagement, and sealed it with a kiss. “Oh John, I love you!” screamed Nikki! John just squeezed her and held her tight with all his might and she was merrily whisked away to the car. Another happy couple, off to marriage land. Happy Wedding Planning!

Still not romantic enough for me.

A Slice of Science Shaking

I have to say, I did a lot of things as a kid. Today, I felt reminiscent and started thinking about the school I left behind. Good ol’ middle school. Those were the days of childish fun with adult motives and humor. I can’t say I loved those days, but I don’t hate them either. It’s a bittersweet kiss.

“Shhhh…,” goes the pouring rain. Skies’ clouded with the rain clouds and I find myself in a boring old science class room. We’re mixing stuff! How fun! Today, we’re learning what happens when you mix certain things together! But there aren’t enough substances to go around, so we sit from our desks and watch Ms. Wiggins mix things together in vials and beakers. She turns to the class room with great enthusiasm and shouts, “Alright! Who wants to mix this up? Anyone? Terry! Come on up!” Surprised and grinning, I strut all the way over to the island and grab the vial. The white, viscous fluid wobbled in the vial. “Shake the vial!” instructed Ms. Wiggins. I nodded and the shaking began. “Swish swish swish,” went the liquid in the vial. “Swish swish swish,” said the swishing liquid. I kept shaking and shaking until I noticed that a certain someone was grinnin’ an’ laughin’ at me.

Katie. As soon as I look directly at her, she went on even harder. Leaning back in her chair, she cupped an’ invisible stick and moved her hand up and down the shaft of the invisible thing. “Whoosh whoosh whoosh,” went the air around her. Her eyebrows jumped up and down a bunch of times, gesturing about my habits. Not as if there was anything wrong with it. But I decided to play along and moved the vial lower. Now the liquid swashed around beside my hips. Ms. Wiggins was completely unaware of this though as I stood in her blind spot. Her eyes filled with devilish intent, fixated on my hand kept gesturing one perverted things after another. But this didn’t last forever. “Thank you Terry. You can go back now,” said Ms. Wiggins and we both stopped our act. I returned to my seat, satisfied with my performance and the boring old science room never looked any less boring than it did a minute ago.

I have to say, I’ve never seen anyone as crazy or idiotic as this old man. Today, while I was on the Metro and waiting till the bus crawl over to my stop, there was this deranged old man. At first, I thought he was your typical everyday short fuse, but this guy is batshit insane. This old timey man whose hummed the tunes of his Walkman! Powerful and strong cassette tapes dominate his mind! But what exactly happened?

The sun was setting and phones were buzzing. We were cruising down the street, each to his or her own agenda. Riders would board and depart the bus at each stop as if the bus wasn’t filled with people already. Engines revving to accelerate on the adjacent lane, we found ourselves with a ticking time bomb. Passengers moved back and forth through the aisle, crossing the man back and forth.

Every once in a while, someone would accidentally step on his foot. Frustrated, he would swear and shout. The man exclaims pain and hatred towards those who caused him such pain. Attempting to restore peace, the driver requests the man cease his dirty mouthing and settle down. Apologies are given and the man returns to his seat. He quietly sings alone to himself, grinning ear-to-ear as he listens to the cassette tape play.

The bus rolls along the blacktop and I stare out the window. Lights go red, and the bus ceases motion again at the traffic light. “Ding,” goes the sign it lights up with a pinkish tint. Walking down the aisle, a different man steps on the foot, adding to the boiling frustration.

The man scolds the newcomer to the battle and demands an apology, but he remains silent. Seconds feeling like minutes pass, and the supposed offender turns and apologizes for stepping on his foot. This wasn’t but without a remark though. Brave, he  makes it clear that we were tired of his whining and bull crap. But this only further irritated the steaming man. Past his limit, he starts shouting and raising his arms with intent to beat. Tired of the shouting, the driver boots the man off the bus. Screaming and yelling, he curses and lashes at black people with names and insults. Merely scoffing and gesturing the man to depart the bus, the man storms off the bus in a rage and continues on the sidewalk.

We cheer and rejoice in his departure! Smiles and grins fill the bus, pushing the dark ambiance out of the room.  The traffic light turns to green and the bus moves only to crawl over to the stop on the other side of the street. Merriment and laughter are cut short as yet again, we meet the crazy man. He repeats his offense, but we speed off after dropping off passengers and we finally leave him.

We leave, with me hoping what will become of him. I get off at my stop and head home for the day with thoughts of that strange man lingering in my head. Was he a senile old fool? How’d he break his foot? Has he gone to anger management? Soon after, I forget and carry on with my life.

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