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

König von Deutschland

Hello everybody who reads this! I apologize for the extreme lack of any new blogs in quite a while... 4 months, to be exact. There was a reason for the horrendous amount of slacking, however; I was at school, getting good grades. :)

I just completed an essay, that in all truth, is one of my absolute favorite essays I have ever written in my life. It proclaims to all the world why I, of all people, would be best fit for the position of king in the country of Germany.

Reasons include the building of a great pyramid in Hamburg, changes to the construction of all buildings to include the mandatory use of chocolate in their design, and freedom from oppressive laws relating to the keeping of chinchillas as household pets.

I will not be translating it for you... so either learn German, or copy and paste in translate.google.com.

Happy end of the semester! :)

König von Deutschland

Es wäre eine große Verantwortlichkeit, der König von Deutschland zu sein. Zum Glück gibt es zur Zeit keinen, aber wenn es ihn geben würde, wäre ich dafür am besten geeignet. Das Volk würde mich lieben, denn ich wäre der coolste König den es je gegeben hat.

Wenn ich der König wäre, würde ich mein bestes tun, ein gerechter König zu sein. Das heißt aber nicht, dass ich nichts für mich machen würde. Ich wäre doch der König! Ich hätte ein Recht, ab und zu etwas tolles anzustellen. Zum Beispiel bin ich der Meinung, dass die Ägypter die richtige Idee hatten. Meine erste Tat als König wäre, eine richtige Pyramide in Hamburg zu bauen, genau neben der St. Michaelis Kirche. So schlimm wäre das doch gar nicht! Stellen Sie sich das mal vor: das Zusammenkommen der Alten und der Neuen. Touristen aus der ganzen Welt würden kommen, um sich die Hamburger Pyramide anzuschauen. Dadurch würden wir viel Geld verdienen. Und wenn der große König Hohsfield irgendwann stirbt, hat man sogar schon einen Ort, wo er begraben werden kann. Das wäre doch vernünftig, oder?

Als König, würde ich dafür sorgen müssen, dass mein Volk nicht verhungert. Deswegen würde ich einen Befehl ausrufen, dass alle neuen Gebäude aus Schokolade gebaut sein sollen. “Ach, mein gnädiger König,” vielleicht fragen Sie, “würde im Sommer nicht alle Schokolade schmelzen?” Das würde schon irgendwie stimmen, aber weil ich so klug bin, habe ich eine Lösung dafür gefunden! Es gibt eine Kunst in einem Land dass weit, weit weg ist und Amerika heißt. Dort gibt es einen besonderen Schatz der “M&Ms” heißt. M&M´s sind aus Schokolade gemacht. Das Interessante an ihnen ist, dass die Schokolade mit einer süßen Schale überzogen ist. Diese Schale schützt sie vor dem Schmelzen. So können wir unsere Gebäuden bauen- aus Schokolade, überzogen mit einer sußen Schale. Wir wären das berühmteste Land der Welt mit unseren Schoko-Häusern und nie-verhungernden Menschen. Wer wäre der beste König der Welt? Ich wäre es!

Der Dritte Königliche Befehl, den ich erteilen würde, wäre, dass das Tier “Chinchilla,” welches normalerweise nicht als Haustier gehalten werden darf, doch ein Haustier sein kann. Diese gute Tiere sind zu lange diskriminiert worden, und ich hätte vor, diese Schrecklichkeit zu beenden.

Als ich in Deutschland war, gab es eine Sache, die mir echt Angst um die Zukunft Deutschlands gegeben hat. Diese war, dass es viele Deutscher gibt, die nicht arbeiten, sondern Geld einfach von der Stadt bekommen. Wenn ich der König wäre, würde das niemals passieren, es sei denn, sie hätten eine echte Ausrede. Zu oft sieht man, dass die Menschen gern Arbeitslos sind, weil sie dann mehr Geld von der Stadt bekommen als bei ihrem letzten Job! Und wie nutzen sie dieses Geld? Sie kaufen Bier und Zigaretten davon. Wir, als ein Volk, würden die Abhängigkeiten dieser armen Menschen nicht unterstützen.  Ich würde das ändern, wenn ich König wäre.  

Sie können jetzt erkennen, dass ich ein sehr guter König wäre. Denken Sie an Pyramiden. Denken Sie an Schokoladen-Häuser. Denken Sie an die Chinchillas. Mein lieber Leser, Deutschland braucht Hilfe. Deutschland braucht eine Veränderung. Deutschland braucht mich, als ihren König.

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.