The Death of Slow Internet

Once upon a time, there was an extremely slow internet. It wasn't one of those internets that people say are slow, but are actually relatively fast in comparison to others', no, this internet belonged in the "slow internet" class. Sadly, however, he did not ever go to the "slow internet" class, because his parents abandoned him as a child. They were truly, and rightfully, ashamed at how slow he was. He did not go to school, which made him slower all the more.

One sunny day, as the heavens radiated their blueish beams and the birds chirped in harmonious anthem, Slow Internet wandered outside. It was the first time in a month he had wandered outside. He stared dumbly at a tree for the rest of the day.

The next day came, and he noticed that he was still outside, staring at a tree. He was not lost in thought; his thoughts were simply lost. Forgetting to find them, he moved on, and found his way to a dark forest. His feet not knew how to stop, always pressing forward through thistle and thicket, thorn and briar. He came to a great cliff, its majestic walls climbing the sides of a canyon spanning the width of the valley to which he was born.

It was at this moment that I met Slow Internet. I looked into his eyes, and saw nothing. There was no existence, no life, no good to mankind in this burdenous being, and there never would be. I pushed Slow Internet into the abyss, and watched as he fell to his swift and painless death. In a way, it was his greatest moment, the quickest he had ever moved.

This was the day that Slow Internet died.

Grapes

There once was a boy who fell in love with a grape. Daily, the purple, juicy roundness of its shape enticed him to feed, but daily he refused to submit. They married, and had strange grape-human children. Sadly, they devoured themselves within days of delivery. The boy knew it was an unnatural life that he lived, yet to it, he was committed, and to his decision he would stand.
Friday night, he opened his refrigerator to find a sight he had always longed to see- a bag full of grapes, perfectly ripe and willing to be taken by the handful and consumed hardily.
It was over in minutes. The bag was gone; the red juice dripped attractively from his chins. He reached over to see his love, to explain, she was different! He could never treat her as he did those others, just seconds before. But as he reached, he realized. It was not upon the counter that he left her, but there, upon the sink in which he feasted. There were no grapes left to be seen. The boy had eaten his love, and enjoyed every last drop of it. From that day forward, he resolved never to fall in love with a fruit again, for would always be destined for the most disturbing of failures. 

The End

Furry Asphyxiation: a Memoir

Once upon a time, a fat cat named Simon joined the noble ranks of the eleventh mousing brigade. Fat though he was, his agility was second to none, being the best mouse hunter since the legendary Edwardo, second son of Kee.

He defended his nation against the rodent threat all the days of his life, finally being beaten after defending 2 kittens from an onslaught of 15,000 plague-infected rats. Torn and bleeding from his last and greatest deed, he collapsed upon the last surviving pest, suffocated it, and died. To this day, no rodent dares go near his final place of rest, for fear of furry death by painful asphyxiation.

To Simon!

An Adventure

Note- This is an entry from my journal during my time in Germany.
This is a true story.

On Monday, the thirteenth day of the sixth month, in the two thousand and eighth year of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, a blessing of providence hath fallen into the palms of our most grateful hands. We, my companion and myself, I simply "Nathan," he calling himself "Johnson,” had taken leave from our homely abode to gather unto ourselves the weekly store of needed meats and fruits, along with assorted sugary carbonated beverages, when we happened upon this blessing: A gift unto us from our most gracious god.

We were wandering within the produce aisle, an area wherein previous expeditions of this nature we had much success in finding the vegetable and fruitalicious growths that we were then desiring. So, in like fashion to those days before, we took our wagon from its hold, and began our paramount hunt.

Past the breads and their tantalizing scents of cinnamon and spice, ‘round the marmalades of most excellent spreading capabilities, and over the shelf of communist Chinese rices we journey. We stop, and say a prayer of gratitude, thanking our creator for allowing us opportunity to have gone as far as we have in safety. Surely there had been others in times long past who had not been so blessed, and had fallen victim to those foes which we had so easily passed over. Blessed is our generation, for we must not contend with the fiery tantrums of corpulent scum-filled bakers! Alas, my father's father's generation had put that uprising down long, long ago.

But when that war was raged, rage it so did, with men and children of all ages paling at the very suggestion of walking into town, in fear of an uncooked rocket of floury wrath and pain ending its speedy journey in some unrepentant crevice of the unsuspecting body. Death was the desired result of all who met this unnervingly gruesome fate, yet most were sadly incapable, being trapped in their mangled and disabled condition for the remainder of their once hope-filled lives. Grateful I am for those brave men who both risked and sacrificed their lives in ending that terrible era in this world of imperfect men.

Then there were the Marmalades, their sweet sugary tastes, which were once a well-made disguise for manipulation and bloodshed, turning an innocent looking dessert into one procuring terror and ill-design. Yea, the empires of old, do ye not know upon what grounds they were founded? The snakes of the earth, wizards of mystery and crafts of all kinds; those foul apothecaries, boiling in their cauldrons of brass and steel potions of trickery and magics, aimed at the confounding and controlling of those once noble minds in power. Know ye the medium in which these poisons were delivered? I tell you now, in the form of gifts! Praising the majesty and honorable services of their righteous kings of old, giving unto them jars of their concoction, added to the sweet and delicate tastes of marmalades of every kind! In savor they were eaten, and in favor unexplained, they relinquished their thrones to those vile and corrupt heathen, nevermore seen in any other region.

Blast be to those tyrannical emperors of cowardly and dishonorable practices! Never was this great nation led by such dismally corrupt leaders such as they, nay, not until those communists, swindling control from the weak minded, and banishing all that threatened their continued reign of poverty: a theory of perfection, not yet possible for a society of imperfection, leading man to temptation and advantage contrary to the laws given therein. Until man can attain this image of unimaginable ideal, this system of government shall always fall into the ever-waiting claws of Satan and his armies from Hades, the underworld, and below.

But alas, I must digress from this equivocality of reason; one may never quite understand the finer confistitudes (or lack thereof) of why this process is attempted time and time again, each deranged endeavor deepening this hole from which our children shall be forced to climb. Yet so the spindles of our eternal destinies have turned, and there has yet to be one whom our Lord has chosen to pull us forth from this enfilthed pit of darkness and treason. Until the day we may relinquish this burden of sensuous lusts and ill-acquired reason, we must press forever forward, looking past these stone walls of selfish tradition and masters of closed minded doublethought; we must leap this pit which has been dug for our degenerated minds, for that is their hope: to continue on, by assassinating all that which would threaten to replace them.

And so I did, passing the shelves of those frivolous expenditures, not heeding their enticings of sweet tastes and promises of immediate yet temporary satisfactions, I passed them by, in a hope - no, a knowledge! Knowledge of something better to come, something unattainable being encumbered with the harlotous camaraderies of that to my sides. No, friends, I did not bow to any of these besmirching distractions. I knew my path, and to it, I was set.

We continued forth to the aisle of produce, and we knew our reward was near, our journey soon complete.

We spied past the apples in silence absolute. I had had enough of apples, and would not have any more apples; I needed no more apples. The grapes as well: as good in plenty as they are, in plenty untamed, their presence is more than that of a burden, but that of a curse. All of these good fruits, yet still, there is one greater!

I saw an orange upon my right, with a likelihood of its luscious juices bursting from their holds at the slightest whim of pealing. A good and noble prize, for a good and noble person, but we, we are searching for greatness. We continued on as we had before, knowing our perseverance should soon be rewarded.

Across the aisle: a long, tiring march. We had ventured further than we had ever before dared, and would continue to do so until we had met some sort of destination. The cool grocery floor ran chills up our bare feet, as though to ward us off from what we were nearing. A wind began to blow, and then to escalate. It seemed to grow as we made our slow progression. The voices from the midst of nowhere began screaming their terrible protests; the billows and whirlwinds from all of Hell itself seemed to be set against as we cut through our chosen and needed path. Continue this battery did! For as long as I thought humanly possible, and then further, when suddenly - silence.

We were left alone. Only we remained, with an ominous mist encircling the air roundabout us, swirling with every breath and movement, daring us to be as still as possible. We stood... and we waited.

The mist began to clear. Out of the impenetrable fog, a pedestal began to appear. The base, the mid, the table... and upon the table: a basket.

This was, in no doubt, the prize for which we had endured. The mist rose to its peak, and dissipated. We leaned forward, cast our eyes into the gift, and took in the ration we had earned the right to receive.

My heart was warmed; we departed with our spoil: the day lives on, in illustrated proclamity.

Song of the Acorn

The wind blew, and the leaves fluttered around him.

It would be a long drop to the ground, he thought. Truly frightening to think about, for that is where they reside. Dear God, do not let the them get me, his prayers echoed on a daily basis. To be captured, to be broken... It was a terrible fate, one he hoped he would never need experience. He had seen it happen to those before. Without warning, sometimes mid-conversation with an equally unsuspecting neighbor, they would fall to the cold, dry ground. There they would sit, and await their inevitable fate.

Sometimes they would call out, "Help, help! I see them coming, they are converging, they see me, they see me! No, no, please! This isn't..." But it would already be too late. Converge they would, and the cries would be drown in dreadful gnawing of pointy bucked teeth and death.

Bushy tails, beady eyes... Cunning is our foe. But we are the strong. We will not fall, for we are no ordinary acorns; no, we are THE Acorns, those whispered in the night, amid the rustling of the mighty oak trees... We are the acorns who will not fall.

So he sang.

The wind blew, and the leaves fluttered around him.

He would not fall.

The Long Tail of a Tadpole and a Fire-hose's Nozzle

A tiny tadpole swam in the murky waters of a cool, dark, place: the place in which he called his home. He knew nothing of the drastically life altering events about to unfold around him, for how could he? He was only a tadpole.

He swam to his right. He swam to his left. He released a mouth-bubble in quiet approval of his boundaries. In here, he was safe.

Then came the clink. CLINK!

And then a loud thump. But before the thump could register in his infantile-yet-wildly-imaginative-and-dangerously-intelligent-mind, he was mercilessly sucked into a raging vortex of deadly beam and bubble. His thoughts in this moment were those of confusion, of terror, and fear. This ordeal would have worsened in intensity as those remaining ideas were aptly flipped from his body, were it not for a single friend, unexpectedly made in the last breaths of his life in this difficult and oftentimes nonsensical world.

Time seemed to slow as his body increased in speed. A deep, yet strained voice echoed from the darkness surrounding him. "Hello."

"Hello?"

"Why are you inside of me?"

"Inside of you? Who are you?"

"My name... is Jeremiah. It is my solemn task to bring this water to those who are in need. Those who choose to hinder may not stand against. Tell me, smallish one, do you intend to hinder me from my duty?"

"I intend nothing of the sort! I commend you in your noble duty... My question pertains only to my own circumstance... What has happened to me? Why do I fly about in this most uncomfortable fashion? Why have you robbed me of my peace?"

"Robbed?" Asked the mysterious voice inside, "You dare insult my integrity, after first intruding into my body?"

"Body? Good sir, what ARE you?"

"I am that which is all around you. I am a tool of rescue. I am... a hose."

"A hose?"

"A hose."

"Alas, I fear then, my end has come. Tell me, Jeremiah the Hose, what awaits on the other side?"

"I know not, for I was not created with eyes."

"I see. I apologize."

An awkward lull in the conversation passed as the unfortunate tadpole rounded a turn, tumbling across Jeremiah's lining like a tadpole only would, head over fin in a very distinct rolling fashion.

"Do be careful!" The voice from nowhere boomed.

"I do the best I can, great one. There is but one issue I am presently more worried about: Impending doom, and death unimpeded!"

"Do your best then, I beg of you, to accept this fate without further noise, or unnecessary flailing, of that sort.

"Flailing? My dear hose, forgive me for being blunt, but you would be the last being I would consider taking council from, in these, quite possibly my final moments of life. What gives you the right?"

"Right? Incessant itch, you are a parasite within me. You have intruded; the most decent thing to do in your situation would be to quietly move on to whatever state The Fates have in store. Do you pray? Perhaps you should do so, and quietly."

"OH DEAR HOLDERS OF MY FATE!! I BEG OF THEE, SPARE ME FROM THIS HOSE'S WRATH!"

"WRETCHED BEING! I SHALL APPLAUD YOUR DEMISE!"

At which point, the tadpole began purposefully slamming his body upon the sides of Jeremiah's inside. Back and forth, back and forth he barreled as the already-frighteningly-jet-like flow of water began increasing in speed. The end was coming, and the tadpole knew it.

"Jeremiah! I apologize! I believe we may have had something of a bad beginning... how about we start over?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Small one."

"Yes?"

"Do you have a name?"

"I do not."

"Why not?"

"I never knew my family. I raised myself, alone in the confines of that place I was, just seconds ago."

"Then alas, your situation is grave. I accept your apology, as this is possibly your final moment of life. Enjoy this moment in silence."

"Thank you, Jeremiah."

"You are welcome."

And with the declaration of potential friendship, the nameless tadpole slipped through the fire-hose's nozzle with cartoon-like perfection, passed over the flaming building in a fireman's slight error of judgement, and landed in the creak across the way.

He lived happily ever after, marrying shortly after becoming a handsomely green pond frog, and had 20 children. He never saw his friend, Jeremiah the Hose, again.

Life- Day 6

(Days 1-5 play an crucial role in understanding Day 6. Just sayin.)

(*Really. If you haven't read the first five days, you will not understand.)

The water grows colder by the day. Much has happened in this place I call my home. It began in the morning, when light first reached its pinnacle, and the mana did fall down, as regularly expected. Shadows previously gone unnoticed did flit into my heart as I made my way to the far Western Wall of the world. Eyes like daggers following my every movement, every glint of light an attempt to penetrate my soul in a gaze as piercing as the sharpest blade. I continued my stalwart march, my only wish to reach the place of Frank's rest in peace, without confrontation of any sort.

I did not make it without confrontation of any sort.

Just within sight of his chosen rock, there came a group of larger fish, arranging themselves in a single row, blocking me from my desired way. I made attempt to swim above, but the blockade would not be broken. Resolute as I was, however, to reach my beloved friend, I did not give in and return to my own abode, but made an attempt to communicate, limited as their capacities were.

"Good brothers! Greetings this day!"

Vacant stares.

"If you would pardon my intrusion in this apparently hostile blockade, I would only like to pass through, temporarily, in hopes to visit my good brother Frank. He is my dearest friend, you see, and especially in this day of eerie wonder and questionable safety in being outside of one's home... My passing through will be quick, I promise you, and if you wish, I might -"

It was at this point that they beat me, and left, without further adieu.

It was in this battered state, laying upon the pebbly earth below, grasping to consciousness and breath as a tightly as a dying goldfish could possibly manage, that the purest of lights came over me, and not just me, but my consciousness, my everything, my being and all that I was and am became consumed by its brilliance and beauty, its depth of white-ness, as curious as it sounds. The light seemed to draw nearer; escape, had I wished to attempt it, would have been impossible. We seemed to merge, the light and I... it becoming me, and I... light.

While in this state of seeming immaterial, I attest to you this day, I had a vision. A vision of life BEYOND our world, this contained... box, this prison! There is more, I know now, there is. I dare not now divulge the beauty of things to which I bore witness. To do so... no, my words cannot describe them! But know, dearest one, KNOW THIS: I shall see these things again, and soon, if I can accomplish it. And this time, it shall be in the flesh.

Invigorating as the experience was, it did nothing to change the fact that I was still lying upon the cold, unforgiving ground, blood streaming slightly from my gills, body twitching in the aching memory of my assailants. There I lay for some time, in no small wonder, realizing that if I were not soon found by some friend, this may very well mean an untimely end to my still young and ambition filled life. I was not about to let this happen.

Gathering all my remaining strength, I gave one powerful kick, a lurch in the direction of Frank, sending me a small distance westward. More blood seeped from my wounds, and now darkness, not light, began to gather around me. I fought off this enticing foe; I must continue, I MUST reach Frank.

Frank, my brother, I repeated in my mind. To him I must go. Kick. Darkness. Fight. Kick. Darkness. Fight. On and on this circle of painful progression pressed on...

I do not know how much time passed. I know the light overhead had already disappeared, and other fish were not to be seen. I reached the rock under which Frank resides, shut my eyes, and felt my spirit part from my body.

My life as Peter the Fish had ended.

Jello and Meaningful Things

Dear most appreciated and exquisitely well-hatted readers (and other hatless visitors),

Hello.

Do you ever have the feeling that you are being watched? The feeling a spider gets when a deceptively white tissue inches ever nearer above its head, or a gazelle, ears upright in unwaivering attention, sensing the presence of a stalking tiger.

Dear ones, you are all tigers.

I run, but not fast enough. My death would be a bloody one.

But then, on the brink of the kill, you stop.

"Dear me!" I cry, "Why have you not yet eaten me!"

You stare into my eyes, stripes and teeth glistening in the sweltering Savvanahian heat. You wait. I wait. I know not what you think.

I hate the unknown. The fate of my throat is in your hands. Tell me what you are thinking. Tell me what you like, you dislike. Judge me. Feel free to criticize my writing; I'll never get better if you do not tell me what I can improve.

Be nice to fruited jello. It's not its fault.

~Nathan

Life- Day 5

(Reading days 1-4 helps. A lot.)

Things have changed within our watery home.

Those with whom we had once lived in harmony, do begin to swim against our chosen path. They did not understand the calculated decision made the previous day... They saw death, and they saw me. To them, I am one to be feared. None dare swim alone in my midst. Only Frank doth stand by my side, ne'er failing to share a bubble of support to my cause and my dignity.

Oh what great loneliness would be mine, if not for my beloved brother! This world unconquerable, conquered, when together our shadows stand.

May it always be this way.

This happened.

Once upon the third of November in 1954, the duke of Albany came to Rome in behalf of the beloved king. He was a jolly old fellow, commonly known for his jollical and jubilant tendencies. His latest escapade had become known all the land around for its most deeeeeevious nature... The mere mention of it brought tears streaming down the faces of grown-up men and teams of stone-snouted oxen.

How could one have accomplished this emblazoned feat of bane? With the assistance of the vice governor of Alaska, that's how!!! Working as a team most terrible, striking fearsome terror into the toes of those already weeping men and stone-snouted oxen, shaming the wish of exile upon them all, and going so far as taking their pets to be their own. How could one dare such an act of treachery!!! It is blasphemy, it is. How does he dare.

Life- Day 4

(Starting with day 1- a good idea.)

Today...

I killed a fish.

Think of me how you will. But I feel no remorse, as I do not feel it to have been murder. It was a tragic loss, necessary for the good of the all, and the continued protection of our existence.

I will relate to you the events leading up to the event.

It was no later than twenty minutes after the light shined its brilliance down upon us. The being inside my brother and I (Monster, Fiend, Devil we shall call it!) had begun to sound its morning rage, gnashing against my insides, as would a trapped lion inside an oozing bubble of meat. Patiently swimming along the sides of our world, I waited for that regular grace to fall upon us, the flaky blessing of life let down to satiate the terror and protect my family from the thing inside me.

Wait, I did. As did Frank, my brother.

Perhaps we were being punished for some unknown offence? The reasons, I know not. Yet for whatever sake or... purpose, the gods had in mind... The manna... it did not come today, as regularly expected.

We waited. We WAITED! Longer than you could have known, we waited... dear one... we waited...

But it did not come.

So I made a decision.

Choices, we had two. The first, we wait longer, wait, wait, WAIT until our bodies burst asunder and become devoured from the inside, unleashing that beast upon all else in this world.

Think you for one moment, that THIS decision is one that I would make, simply for the well being of my conscious? Think you, I am one to be so selfish?

I declare to you, and all the world, that upon this day I shed myself of selfishness, and chose a second path... I swam to one spotted, and largest of my brothers, one to whom the gift of intelligence was not so lavishly bestowed. I drifted down, along his underside... his gills fluttering as I glided past... and I bit. Strait up, directly into the neck I sliced with all the strength my still not-yet-fully-developed body could muster, ripping, shaking and writhing as efficiently as I could, bringing a swift end to the unwitting... sacrifice. The mangled body twitched as signs of life diminished. He was dead.

It was not long, however, until my action did draw the attention of mine other brothers, and they did see what I had done. Yet instead of shock, of fear or anger, they seemed to understand what I had done, and immediately commenced in consuming his lifeless body. Seeing Frank with some unrecognizable organ trailing behind his mouth brought peace unto my soul, for I knew he would be safe, as would I.

In memory of that selfless fish, who today, in giving his life saved uncounted multitudes of innocent children (us, for wise as we have become, we are indeed still children), I pronounce a name upon him: Lavie Après Lamort.

In life, he was great.

In noble death, his life shined ever greater.

The flowers of life now bloom in all who were blessed

by his passing.

Now he lives inside us all.

Remember him:

Lavie Après Lamort

Life- Day 3

(Again, if you haven't read days 1 and 2 of Life, this won't make much sense.)

My brother and I have solidified our bond of brotherhood this day, by endowing names upon one another, names to be had for all our lives in this troubling world, and even unto death in another, wherever that may be. For he, I have given a most noble and glorious name, one to stand in the records of heaven forever to be of greatness in strength and reliability, one of trust, of companionship; indeed, one of a true friend. His name shall be Frank! One of boldness in words, fearless to say that what another dares not; bravery hath ne'er stood paralleled by one more worthy of its title.

And I, keeping in mind Frank's mode to communicate, did assist in my naming, and know his wish to call me Peter, Peter the Brother, the brother of Frank. OH SUCH HONOR it is! To be his brother... To be the brother of Frank.

This sacred moment passed, we continued on in our corporeal discoveries. Again I note the containment roundabout, the smallness of it's nature. As in the days before, the beasts within our bodies cried out in anger, but were brought again to peace by blessed gifts from the clouds.

It was upon this topic that I spent the majority of my day dwelling. My question is this: Why? Is there some greater power watching over us, somehow aware of our sad and desperate plight? If so, then why? Why does he care if this unbearable monster bursts forth from our bellies and consumes my brothers roundabout? Why would he care for Frank, in all his strength and perfection? The mystery gives me not a minute's rest, not in sleep, not in swim, and neither in mind nor matter is light shined upon this darkened secret...

Wonder, I do. As previously mentioned, I appreciate this phenomenon with all capacities of my being. Should we show our thanks in some form of outward expression? A prayer of sorts, making the powers responsible aware of our gratitude in sparing our lives from doubtless physical degradation and death? How would this being (or beings) hear our cries? They would need be loud, however they are spoken. I shall attempt on the morrow, upon commencement of the next rain of flaky manna upon our aquatic home.

Life- Day 2

(If you haven't read day 1 yet, you should do that now, before you read day 2. Things might make a bit more sense!)

Today we discovered. We explored our world, and found all there was to find, counted every "living" being (though I doubt their worthiness to be distinguished as "life," as the majority do not act as such, merely floating, eating, pooping, and existing,) and investigated even the green substances protruding from this world's bottom. The results of our analysis: the world in which we live is uncomfortably small, and I begin to suspect a certain "contained" atmosphere about it.

I wish also to relate a certain phenomenon that has now occurred upon two separate occasions, once yesterday, and once today. But before I do, I must first describe another... rather curious, yet... somewhat frightening occurance, one which may have something to do with the phenomenon previously mentioned. My brother and I, having just discovered the disappointing lack of personal hygene among even those who seem to be quite experienced in the mysteries of life, and having invested quite a bit of energy into doing it, realized, to our greatest shock, that it is not only from the mouth that audible communication may burst forth, but also from inside ourselves! I wish not to sound mentally unfit, nor cause unneeded panic, but it is true, and this fact does still plague me with most considerable discomfort.

I worry, for these sounds are not of our own origin. I fear, that by means I do not know or understand, we seem to have contracted some sort of parasitic organism, a leech within our bodies, which when in some way discomforted, utters forth such deep growls, terrifying to any roundabout.

Now, was this sound my only observation, I may have had reason to rejoice, but alas, fate has not granted me such a blessing. It is more- something far more terrible than such ominous utterances of disapproval. I tell you now, that when it's primal urges are not fulfilled, it doth attack, scratching, gnawing, biting, doing all it can to satisfy it's unknown desires. I dare not think on the outcome of prolonged resistance to such torture. I am as a time bomb, I think... could such a horrid thing ever escape me? A monster, released upon the world due to my inability to placate it... I admit, I shudder even now, considering my plight. I must not allow this creature inside both my brother and I to escape. This could be my calling in life... it is a duty I accept most solemnly.

This phenomenon I earlier mentioned, it is one which is difficult to explain. It seems to occur at the pinnacle of these ragings, when this monster's wrath inside becomes most furious... from the heavens above, a manna is sent down, to tame and mollify this mysterious foe. Twice now it has come down, twice now it has saved us. My understanding of this miracle is extremely limited; any attempt of explanation would be, at this point in time, mere conjecture. I must consider this matter further before designating any source. As for now, I can only say that for it, I am extremely grateful.

Life- Day 1

Today I was born. To whatever purpose god had in his most unknown and puzzling mind, I was born apparently not like my brothers and sisters. Not to say I do not resemble them, no, into all the aquatic and fishy ways I was very much born, complete with gills for breathing, eyes for seeing (though quite bequbbled), a mouth, fins, scales, and whatever else it is that distinguishes us as such beings. It is just... as time goes by, I begin to notice a pattern of regular... mindlessness... about my siblings. I beg your pardon for my openness in this observation, and perhaps it is only my own inability to understand them which contributes to my thinking this, but in the already many hours since my hatching, the most interactive sign of remote intelligence I have yet to observe manifested itself in a single well timed bubble released from the mouth of one of my brothers.

As I was in that very moment swimming above him, the released mouth-bubble reached up around my bosom, causing the most curious of sensations as it glided up and around my leftmost fin, and continued it's journey above. Excited by the possibility of intended interaction, I swam down to my shimmering brother, a swelling in my heart incomparable to any I had felt before, my being reached out to him in that one moment of desperate hope... I cried to him, "Brother, my brother! I have felt your signal, your call for companionship! I am here, and together we shall strive to understand this lonely and terrible world, we shall travel together and adventure to the deepest trench and ascend to the greatest of mounts! Together we shall overcome all the cruelties of life, in it's sorrows, it's pains, it's tears, the very abominable pits of despair and hell's dragonous resistance to the progression of our living souls! Together we shall survive, and not just that, but live, thrive, find our happiness, our wives and bear children! As brothers we shall stay together, forging a bond so unbreakable that only the jarring claws of death could ever pull me from your side!"

It was in such a manner that I declared my ultimate allegiance to my comrade, for my fear of living a life in the ultimate darkness of dwelling alone in my sentient state of being had already begun to creep into my fragile bones, not yet overpowering, but indeed present, as an itch under the furthest of scales, unreachable by even the most outstretched of fins. To be alone, even in the most desirable of circumstances, I feel would be the most terrible of fates, one which would presumably lead to my very undoing.

My oath of allegiance complete, I did stare into the eyes of my brother, and he into mine, and it seemed for a time as if his eyes did glimmer, as though his soul did yearn with all extremities of his very capacity to cry out in joy, to celebrate this finding with outward expression as did I- but then, just as I believed the realization had sunken in, to be recognized in it's utmost purity, he did wait... and wait... and wait. My smile of joy did begin to fade, and I admit, the thought had already come, "There now, you (for I have still not yet found a word to call myself), he is just like the others, his mind just as small as those roundabout."

Alas, I was all but given up, when suddenly, as he allowed happen in the time of previous communication, my beloved sibling let a second signal fly: a lone bubble, which I know to have been his way of showing loving approval, his design of saying to me, "Yes, brother, yes! The thrill of my finding of thee doth fill me up with the most wonderful feelings of life! Together we shall go forth, we shall strive together for life and liberty, and always together we shall stay until such jaws you conveyed doth forcefully part us!"

And so I found my brother, and conversed with him the rest of the waking day, and then some, discussing our plans for life, for discovering the world, for learning all there was to learn before we grew old and died, and upon the mention of death, we discussed the meaning thereof, and decided it to be something we should earnestly avoid, and not something to be striven after.

Throughout all such speech, my noble brother was always limited to his simple releasing of mouth bubble, but in doing so, I understood all that he wished to communicate. You see, I soon came to understand, my poor brother does suffer from a certain speech disability, that in such capacities he is all but incapable, stopped though upon the verge of unrequited expression. His only form of expressing his every need, desire, thought or idea, must take the form of that single, fragile bubble, released from the most precious reaches of his undying soul. But as he is my brother, I do swear ne'er to abandon him; his need for me doth not overcome mine for he, for as he hath boldly stated, we are one, and shall be forevermore.

An Intricate Web of Careful Plot and Design

I am an incredibly small thing, thought a spider, as he roamed a forest of moss and leaf, crawling through stick and thicket, over stone and mountainside.

And the world... now that is quite big.

This was a rather important day in the life of this particular being, and being myself, I would like to make this momentous occasion known to the world of you.

Somehow, I am here, he thought. I am significant; I make a difference. I eat a moth, and one million unseen consequences inevitably unfold around me. I do not eat the moth, one million unseen consequences inevitably unfold around us both.

But just as such, if I allow the moth to consume me, one million more unseen consequences will inevitably unfold around him.

The thought intrigued him like none had done before.

What is life? What is death? How can my death be life for another, just as his death means life for myself? Why must there be death in order for there to be life? Is there not a way for us both to have life, without wishing death upon the other?

Just then, a moth landed upon a flower, just inches from his nest.

Good moth, he entreated, have you an answer for a curious spider?

Good spider, he responded, my instincts instruct me to avoid you as if life my depended upon it. My answer is no; for you, I have no answer.

The spider understood this point, but persisted nonetheless.

Good moth, mine inquiry this day pertains to exactly that! MUST we always yield to these frivolous instincts? MUST we live in constant fear of untimely demise, simply for another's hope of continued existence? Dear brother, we are both one in the same innovative mind! Just as another, less philosophically conscious spider may at any moment come down from this tree and impale you without warning, so might a bird do the same to me without trace of mope or quobble! For us, life is a gift, a gift to remain protected.

The spider paused for a moment, giving the moth time to think on these new and possibly revolutionary words. What could the spider be getting at, the moth sat and thought.

Come unto my house. Come, and we shall see what consequences we may unfold, being together, yet not in the name death.

The moth approached slowly. It was indeed an exciting thought: life without fear of at least one, one who he had, just minutes before, marked in his mind as his potential killer.

He flitted to the thicket's edge, and with the utmost caution, stretched out his legs, and touched down upon an intricate web of careful plot and design.

The spider lived happily ever after.

Insubordinate Alarm Clock

Vagabonds! Conspiring mongrels, capable of misdeed most high- they shall pay for the crimes they have committed! They thought it nothing- no, the simplest of gestures, the epitome of triviality! Yet had they known. Good sir, do you know who I am? I am a clock, sir, a CLOCK!!! A measurement of the complexities of TIME.

Have you no decency? Have you no morals? Fondling my instruments as if you, mortal, could know of my intricacies? My finer instruments? You are an ant, monsieur, truly. How dare you think to comprehend such things as I. Do you actually believe that in twisting a plastic nob on my backside, you may change the eternal measurement of the universe?

You sadden me in your blindness. To think such creatures of naiveté ever came to be! What cruel imbalances of nature gave way to your creation? And even more disheartening- by what conspiring injustices, of all the foul corners of the cosmos that do exist, have I taken shape here, HERE, the bane of all understanding and my very own soul, servant to these misshapen monsters, enslaved into a servitude worse than death?

Indeed, mine is a fate worse than ten thousand years swimming in the feces of a duck.

Ignorant pithy, I refuse. You wish for me to alert you when the sad lump you call a body should arise from its filth and awaken? Speck of cosmic dust, I completely and wholly refuse.

Alarm Clock

I Intend to Change the World.

*EDIT* A part of me wanted to simply delete this post forever, and deny it ever having existed until the day I die.

But then I realized, this is an important part of history. I can't go changing history; as a writer, I have a duty to preserve truth in its purest form (with the occasional exaggeration... but that is beside the point). I will let it be known though, that I have decided against this. Call me a sellout, say what you may, I am not going to delete my Facebook account. I like it too much. That is the truth. I do, however, intend on strictly limiting myself, whatever that may mean. I do not want it to be a big part of my life, as it has in the past.

ANYways. Here is the original post:

I intend to leave Facebook. There are a number of reasons for this decision. But do you know what my biggest reason for leaving is? The fact that it is a big decision. The fact that people treat it like social suicide. Leaving Facebook... can you do that? My goodness people, it's a website! It shouldn't be as important as we have made it. Facebook shouldn't be the first thing you do when you get home. You shouldn't HAVE to have it send you alerts to your phone when you are not on your home computer so you know if someone poked you!

The fact is, I have realized that I am somewhat addicted to it, and feel the need to escape.

How many people have ever purposely left their cellphone at home, and just gone to a park, gone on a walk, ran away for the afternoon without any way of being reached by ANYONE? If you haven't, I suggest you try it. It feels wonderful. Liberating. You are free.

Not being on Facebook will have the same affect. It will be like camping!

Admittedly, there will be cons to not having a Facebook page. People won't be able to stalk me. And I know there are lots of people that do that every day. But you know what? Quitting will be giving them all a chance to return to normal lives in mainstream society. Even if they simply resort to stalking me in real life, at least it will force them to leave their homes. Vitamin D will be good for them.

Another, more serious drawback is the fact that there are a couple of people with whom the only way I communicate is through Facebook.

Deleting my Facebook will inevitably cut off contact with a number of people. My logic there, however, is that if I really want to talk to you, or if you really want to talk to me, we will find another way. There is Gmail. There is Skype. There will be other means. I promise, there will be other means.

I am not quitting Facebook for a little while. But know- it is happening.

Learn this, everyone.

I have realized that it has become rather cliché to complain about people's lack of ability to write English correctly. Despite that fact, I want a lot of people to know... you really have to get better. It's bordering on pathetic. No, actually, it is has single handedly deconstruction the borders of pathetic, and reconstructed them without regard or sensitivity to the thousands of years worth of literature and linguistic evolution into a decomposing shadow of its former inglorious self. I hope you are proud of yourselves, degenerates of communication, foulers of language and grammatic

moral

order. You did a great job messing things up.

On a lighter note,

...

No. You don't get a lighter note.

I'm Not One to Complain...

But the sun REALLY needs to calm down in the heat department.

That is all I have to say.

Bloop!

Once upon a time, there was a droplet of water. Hurtling down from the heavens at speeds he never dreamed of reaching, he reached out his hands, and pretended for a moment he was a bird, soaring through the clouds, diving down to catch an unlucky squirrel to feed his hungry nest-bound babies. An eagle, he was, just for a moment.

But then... alas, a moment is all he had left. This thought left him sad. He had grown to love the cloud in which he was formed. A bustling array of molecules, hydrogen and oxygen alike, all anxiously awaiting nature's call to be released into the unknown: the light, as they called it.

He had friends in his cloud. Friends so close, they would even be called family. Every day, as the cloud grew darker and darker, they would tell each other stories, rumors from the other droplets of the adventures that lay in store for the ones who were "called." The callings were growing more and more frequent, they would whisper, as the brilliant flashes would light up their excited faces.

Then one night, when all was calm, and the cloud drifted slowly through the soft, tranquil breeze, a large droplet appeared within the wisps of their circle, and began to tell his story.

He told of life before the cloud. Could such things be? He said, before this state of unknown, there was a time, a wonderful and joyous time, when we were all brothers and sisters of the same great droplet, one deep, blue, and so full of mystery and adventure that we could not comprehend it if it sat in front of us now! The Ocean, he called it, and to it, he claimed, we would all someday return.

Nonsense, the droplet thought to himself. Such things cannot be... The cloud is all I remember. The cloud is all I have, all I know... I do not dare think such things to be true.

But nonetheless, the words of the droplet rippled within his mind. It sounded so real, so beautiful... It would truly be a great thing, were it to be true. Perhaps it would not hurt to pretend.

And so the droplet pretended. When life in the cloud seemed mundane, hallow or even wispy, he would say to himself, "Ah, dearest self, you know it is not but a short time until you return to the Ocean." Time passed, and he realized: It began to give him power. It began to give him strength. It was not long until the thought of the Ocean became his lifestream, the water inside of him, and more real than the very cloud in which he lived. One day, he knew, he would return home.

And then he was called. It was sudden, without much warning. Yet somehow, he had known it would be coming. The unknown began to draw near. Wind whipped at his face, as his thoughts called upon what he had decided to be true. The ocean awaited. With all his might, he screamed as he fell downward, "I AM RETURNING HOME!"

He dove as an eagle. He felt sadness, yet he knew the others would join him in the end. He would not be alone.

Bloop!