Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Well played, Google, well played.

I can't find it!
Yes please!
Either they are real and Jesus used them as a means of transport, or they're fake and the CIA made them up.
They may be microwaves, but at least they're not purple.
As a giraffe fan, I find this disheartening.
"Damn it, man, I'm an astronaut not a fish inspector."
The end is nigh.
What else do they have to do all day?
"Whee!"
Numbers are sexy.
Jesus is my magical homeboy who's kind of a jerk.
Return of the Jedi: Under the Sea Edition.
The evil, godlike utensils of Satan.
Beware.
I'm getting hungry.
This has been helpful.
The dark is scary.
But dragons are scarier.
They really are. (If you're a professor I don't mean you, I mean those other professors...)
I've always wanted a Canadian to call my own.
First they make fun of us, then they pretend to be us.
...
He only published one book.
My Weaponized Little Pony™

 This one is my favourite.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Short Short-Story 1: Humming, The

I looked at the hammer in my hand. So, it has come to this. Never could I imagine it ending this way. Despite myself, I started remembering all the good times we've had together, all the laughs and joys he brought me throughout the years. That one Saturday that I spent all day in bed with him. Sometimes, I would even watch him sleep, which admittedly is pretty weird. He was always there for me; whenever I had a question he had an answer. Tears started welling up inside me and one threatened to fall. No, I must be strong. This is the right thing to do. I've been forgiving of his errors for far too long. I am going to serve cold revenge – well maybe more warm than cold, kind of like those leftovers that you try to microwave but can't really get too hot because your microwave is crappy – tonight. I started upstairs to my room, tripping a little on the way, but not even my clumsiness can stop my determination. Unless of course I miss with the hammer which might be a little awkward.

I tiptoe across the hall to my room. Quietly now, we wouldn’t want to alarm. I get to my door and open it slowly; it makes a horrible creaking sound that I was going to get fixed but didn’t because I was busy. Hammer behind my back, I step inside.

“Hello,” I say, walking up closer, “fine night tonight, isn’t it?”

No reply. I stand there for a moment, It’s a Fine Day by Opus III going through my mind as I wonder if the song will be stuck in my head for the rest of the day. I remember this one time I had Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head stuck in my head and all I could remember was that one line, just over and over – “raindrops keep falling on my head, raindrops keep falling on my head...” It was thanks to him I first heard these songs and was able to be annoyed by them. It was thanks to him I first heard a lot of songs. He introduced me to so much music. Maybe I am wrong after all? Maybe there is hope for us yet?

He starts to hum. A gentle if annoying sound. I know he is thinking hard about something, he always hums when thinking hard. What could he possibly be thinking about now, I think. I haven’t given him anything to think about. The humming suddenly stops and I watch him, just sitting there as if nothing is wrong. As if he hasn’t hurt me so badly that it hurts. As if he hasn’t robbed me of two years of my life that I shall never get back. No, there is no hope left. Just then the hammer slips out of my hand and falls with a clank to the floor. Oops. I pick it up quickly and before he has time to react I strike. Again and again...and again for good measure.

It is done. I look at the rubble I have created. Never again will he swallow a thesis paper I have been working on for two years. Never again will I have to hear that hellish humming sound followed by an array of error messages. It is done. I go back downstairs and eat some warm leftovers. I should get a new microwave.