Story time

This was a story that I wrote in class about the possibility of cloning animals and how it just might catch on. Hope you enjoy.

Mrs. Bell quickly looked from one side to the other side of her Barkaloungerchair. Her soaps had ended, and Cecil, her pure Longhaired Himalayan cat, had not yet appeared for her usual nap along side her owner. Mrs. Bell clicked her tongue, hoping that the cat would realize what time it was and come scampering in the living room. "Now where could that cat be?" Mrs. Bell thought. She checked Cecil's usual hiding places, under the king sized bed, on blankets in the linen closet, and on the window cill that faced the sun. Cecil must have found somewhere else to lounge around. One place in particular popped into Mrs. Bell's head. The shoe closet must be where Cecil is hiding. She moved as fast as a senior citizen could, hoping to still surprise Cecil with a quick grab and a kiss. As soon as the sliding door opened, Mrs. Bell's jaw dropped. In a heap of cream colored fur, Cecil was in the final stages of rigimortis in the corner of the closet. Mrs. Bell put her hand over her mouth and said in a cal voice, "oh dear." Without even thinking, Mrs. Bell went to the phone and pushed the button for the first person on the speed dial. She waited for someone to pick up. "Hello, Dr. O' Brien? Yes, its me, Helen Bell. Yes...it's happened again. You'll? You'll send me over a new one tomorrow? Excellent! Could you put that on my account? Great, thank you so much. Mrs. Bell hung up the phone and got a plastic bag and a dustpan to go and dispose of Cecil number 46.

Holy Shit I Updated.

Holy shit indeed. Here is some writing I did for class, let me know what you think because it might be the only thing posted here for a while, later.



What a long friggen day. Thank God I finally get to go home. I thought to myself as I walked back from the bus station. It was like a twenty minute walk, and after a double shift, it seemed like I would never make it back. I need a car or a moped or something, this is getting to be a pain in the ass. Maybe if Dave actually paid his half of the rent, I could afford one. Slowly I walked up the stairs of the apartment building, loathing every over-priced step there is to take. Working in that warehouse is killing me. I thought to myself. Time to get some sleep. Maybe I’ll look for a new job tomorrow....nah, too much work. At the top of the stairs, I smack my left pocket and hear that familiar jingle of the keys and stick my hand in to get them. Twist knob to the left, turn it right and kick hard. The door needing some work was an understatement. The sea foam colored paint had been cracking and peeling for more years then I have been alive. Even the numbers on the door were feeling the effects of father time. I gotta complain to Tim again about this shit. Tim Grossman was my landlord, but I preferred to call him the slum lord or gross fat guy when he wasn’t around. Grossman was a single, fat, balding guy who got this house after his mom died, or that’s what he told us anyways. In the two years that I’ve been here, I have never seen him wear anything but sweat pants, a wife beater and grungy flip flops. He doesn’t do much besides jack up the rent, drink cheap vodka like water, and sleep. Dave and I rented the upstairs from him, and he lives in the basement. Stupid fat fuck never does anything for us. I thought. The doorknob was almost completely covered in rust. The warped door opened with a high pitched creak and revealed the shoe box sized living room. That pungent smell of moldy cheese hit my nostrils just as it always does when I work a double shift. I knew I should have thrown out those hotdogs....ah well, I’ll get to it later. I fling the keys onto the seat of the busted recliner and walk a straight, short line to the bedroom, careful not to kick over half drank beer bottles or stacks of pizza boxes. I had no idea where Dave was, and I seemed not to care at all; maybe it will be silent tonight for once. If I didn’t see his massive, cylinder shaped body slouched in the chair, there was a good chance he wasn’t home or was passed out. I get to my room, turn on the light, shut the door, and strip down to my boxers, dropping all of my sweat stained clothes on the shag brown carpet.. Band posters covered my walls, and every bookshelf was occupied with cans and junk rather then any reading material. I flexed in front of my mirrorlike I did every night, wishing that I looked like those guys in muscle magazines, all buff and tan. My skin needs to get some more sun, I look like a god damned ghost. With the last of my energy, I began the short climb up to my perch on the top bunk, but right before I did, I noticed my computer screen was on. This thing was my entire life. I saved for years to buy all the parts and built it completely by myself. My desk is right under my bed, so no one can really use it without me knowing. Since it’s only Dave and I up here, and I threatened Dave many times before, I’m not too concerned about anyone using it. I don’t even let Dave touch it, and we’ve been friends since grade school. I pushed the off button, turning the screen blank but leaving the tower on. Now it was bed time. With my body completely under the jet black comforter, I rolled towards the edge of the bed and looked over at the clock. It read two-fifty-something A.M, which sounded about right. My eyes shut tightly and my muscles relaxed, the day was over and done with. A bright light glowed from under me; my computer screen was on. I swore I turned that thing off. Son of a bitch, I really don’t want to get back down, but I can’t sleep with it on. Suddenly, the screen turns off and turns back on. What the hell? I throw off the covers and jump down, hitting the ground hard enough for my ankles to send a sharp pain up my back. I let out a sharp yelp and turn to check on my ailing computer. ‘NO’ was typed on the screen in big black letters. The rest of the screen was white, like someone had just started to type something then walked away. Dave was the first person I thought of as the culprit as I sat down in the leather chair. Can’t that fat asshole leave any of my shit alone? God dammit he sucks at life. I put on my jeans, just as if I was getting ready to go to work again. Just as I was going to touch the mouse, the colossal ‘no’ vanished and new text took it’s place. ‘You shouldn’t say those kinds of things about people’ was what I read. My hand flew back behind my head like I had just touched a hot stove. Confusion and surprise struck simultaneously. "What the f-" was all I got out before the screen changed yet again. ‘Don’t finish that sentence’ appeared. Sticky fear sweat made its presence known on my back, trying to compensate for my racing heartbeat. I better be making this up I thought. The message on the screen blinked off and reappeared with a new one. ‘Hi.’ was written. The words took up the screen from top to bottom. Hi? Who the hell is doing this to me? I must be dreaming or something, I thought of some explanation for what was going on. ‘Your awake, Joseph’. "Ummmm.." I spoke out loud. "Dave, can you get your fat ass out here before I find you and kill you?" This is stupid, he knows how tired I am, Jesus, just let me sleep for once! I looked around my room for him in an attempt to find Dave, but I knew I would have seen that 300 pound kid right when I walked in. ‘It’s not Dave.’ The text was really starting to freak me out now. That fat ass is going to get it when I find him. I held the power button on the tower. Maybe I can just restart it. I thought. I held the button for a few seconds, and nothing happened. "Dave, you FAT FUCK"! I yelled. "You FUCKING broke my computer!" No sound was heard. Again the text read out something new. ‘Don’t be mean to Dave, that bothers me.’ Is this thing reading my fucking mind??? No....it couldn’t. Wake up Joey, this is a nightmare, that’s all. "I’m here to help you.’ the text read. I wheeled the chair back, not even knowing what to think besides, wake up. I started to hit the keys in a furious attempt to stop who or what had control over my screen. ‘That’s not going to work.’ I stopped hitting the keys and took a deep breath. "O.K. fine, what will make it work so you can stop fucking with my computer? I was still convinced that Dave was somehow behind all of this. The screen went blank for a few seconds, then produced an answer that was not to my liking at all. "You’re going to shut up, stay seated, and read everything’. I squinted hard, I thought I was reading this wrong. ‘You’re not exactly perfect, now are you Joseph?’ I scoffed, "This is bullshit, you can’t do anything to me." My voice started to crack. "Whoever or whatever you are, I’m getting too tired to play along, so lets get this over with and just tell me what you want so I can go to bed."
‘So you don’t want to cooperate with me?’ Another few lines showed up. ‘Fine, let me show you what I can do to you, and maybe you’ll change your mind, Joseph.’ All of a sudden, e-mail account popped up. Scrolling across the bottom of the screen, it said to turn on the speakers. I was scared not to do it, so I clicked on the speakers to about a quarter of the way up.
"That’s better," said a slow, deep voice. "So, you’re in a relationship it seems." I rubbed my eyes, still wondering if this is a dream or some cruel prank.
"Yeah I am," I replied. "Why?" The voice chuckled and then spoke.
"Not anymore." The voice said. "Unless you work with me and do what I say." I wasn’t going to take anymore of this bullshit.
"Screw you, I’m not doing anything, get the FUCK off of my computer before I find out who you are and snap you’re little fucking neck!"
"Someone is in a bad mood it seems." The voice was cool and confident. "Where is all of this anger coming from?"
"Shut up!" I yelled. "Shut your god damned face or whatever the hell you talk out of, you fuck!" I wheeled back my chair and stood up and turned to walk out, not even caring about any consequences.
"Susan James, huh?" The voice questioned, not losing its composure while stopping me dead in my tracks and do a 180 back to the screen.
"What?" I sat back down.
"Girlfriend of yours?"
"Yeah...So?" I questioned. Her picture showed up on the screen; I must have had a million of us and everywhere we went together. She had long legs, a beautiful smile, and blonde hair. She was the love of my life and I could not ask for anything more.
Been together....2 years now. Wow Joseph, if I were her and knew what I know, I would have dumped your sorry ass a long time ago. I really don’t think that you are any where near worth of someone of that caliber. Wait, I’ll just let her go for you, no need to thank me."A puzzled look came over my face. The voice sighed heavily; I must have been missing something.
"I sent her a message about you finding someone else, so wave bye-bye to your cute little girl Susie." The voice concluded with a deep, throaty laugh.
"You’re a liar, just a big... fucking..... liar." I whispered though gritted teeth. "You don’t have my password, I never gave that to anyone.... you’re just messing with me, right?"
"Apparently, you still don’t get it. I know everything about you, Joseph. I know your name, all of your passwords, interests, and all the sites you visit, even the ones when you’re feeling, how do you say, ‘a little bit lonely.’ I could not believe what I was hearing.
Trying to make sense out of all of this, I questioned the voice. "What?" How....why are you doing this to me? What the fuck did I ever do to you man?" There was a pause for a few seconds which felt more like hours. I sat there in silence, waiting for some sort of response. There was nothing. In frustration, I turned off the speakers. A mili-second later, the screen turned white again and text started to appear once more. It was all in caps, ‘NEVER DO THAT!’ More text appeared. ‘YOU’RE NOT IN CONTROL HERE JOEY, I AM.’
Starting to get annoyed, I shot back at the computer."You can’t tell me what to do, I own you, it’s not the other way around, guy. Remember when I spent thousands of dollars to buy this computer? Yeah, that means I OWN YOU!" I had no idea where this new found confidence was coming from, or why the hell I was yelling at my computer, but I hope that there was more on its way. My mind clicked back and searched feverishly for ways out of Susan getting that message. I’ll call Susan, yeah, tell her that this is all a big mistake and someone stole my password. Yeah...she’ll believe that...I think. Just as I picked up my cell phone from off the shelf, I noticed the text on the screen change out of the corner of my eye. ‘I don’t think so, Joseph’ I kept reading. ‘I forgot to mention, I knew you would try and get in contact with her, so I told her some things only you would know, like that first date at the movies. I told her it was only a ploy to get into her pants. But nice try....Guy.’ I dropped the phone. I knew now that there was no way she was going to believe anything I was going to say now.
"WHAT?!?" I covered my eyes and mouth with my hands. "Wake up Joey, just wake up." I needed to force myself out of this dream.
‘You wish it could be that easy.’ The words were mocking me, I hate it when anything, even something like text mocks me. He knew I was getting pissed off and it was only getting worse.
"Getting a little bit TESTY, are we?" The message scrolled across the screen over and over again. My blood began to boil and the veins in my forehead were pulsing along with the heavy beating of my heart.
A heavy pounding noise directed my attention to the apartment door. Who the fuck is banging on the door at 3am? Dave? I turned back to the all-knowing text for some sort of an answer.
‘Don’t answer the door, just sit back down.’
"But...but who.." The banging got louder until I heard that familiar creak of the door open. He must have let himself in with his set of keys.
"Where the fuck are you?! Hello? You...you fucking loud ass kids!, I’m trying to fucking sleep here, don’t you knowwwwwhat" He began to slur. It was Grossman, and he sounded a little pissed off to say the least. His thundering footsteps came closer and he stumbled into my room and saw me. I just looked at him, afraid of what the computer would do to me if I told him what was going on. Even if he did believe me, there was nothing his drunk ass could do to help. I looked at the screen for any sort of advice while Grossman went off on me for waking him up. Of course, there was something on the screen. ‘Joseph, leave Mr. Grossman to talk. Turn on the speakers, but don’t go too far now, or I’ll know. Now get out of there.’ I didn’t have to be asked twice. A thought struck my mind. How the hell am I going to get Grossman to stay in here? Wait....I got something. I glanced at the screen. ‘That’s using your mind Joseph.’
"I know this sounds strange, but don’t yell, just sit down and listen, Tim. I tried to get him to listen to me. "I’ll pay you a hundred bucks if you just sit down and listen to what the computer says for five minutes, please." I knew he couldn’t give up an easy opportunity to get money.
"Fine, but if you don’t pay me.." I reached in my back pocket and threw my wallet at his hairy chest.
"Consider that collateral." I said. Tim sat down in front of the screen, not looking once at what it had to say
"Jesus Christ, what’s the matter with you, Joe?" Before I could even answer the fat guy’s question, I turned on the speakers and got out of there. My leg was almost cut off as I slammed the door right behind me. I couldn’t just leave him in there, knowing what that thing was capable of. I sure as hell didn’t want to go back in either, so I leaned my ear up against the door, straining to hear what the hell was going on. Everything sounded muffled, but there was some sort of a conversation going on, Grossman’s voice getting louder as it progressed. Anything could be going on in there right now, I could only wonder what kind of secret’s he had that were about to be uncovered. About two minutes of Grossman talking with whatever was in my computer, his voice was finally loud enough to be audible. "WHAT, NO!" He was screaming now. "I DIDN’T KILL HER.....SHE....SHE FELL!" Suddenly, the door ripped open and out shot Grossman, heading straight for the door and down the stairs. I didn’t even attempt to ask him what the fuck he was doing; there was no way I’m getting my body in the way of that fat train. Grossman had just about made it to the door when a beer bottle had happened to make its way under one of his fat feet. His fall was almost like slow motion, one painful twist and trip after another. He flew right out of the door, his face hitting the stairs with a brutal crunch. It sounded like someone had just threw a piano off a building. I ran over, and saw his broken, fat body laying lifeless at the bottom of the stairs. I wanted to help, but just then I heard that heavy voice again.
"Get over here now, Joseph." I turned my head slowly. "Joooooooooooooooseph, get baaaaaaaaaaaaaacccccckkkkkk heeeeeerrrrreeee." The voice was calling to me. Slowly I walked back to my room, the image of Grossman’s body burned into the back of my brain. I sat back down and opened my mouth to ask what the hell had just happened. ‘He was a bad mad, he deserved what he got. Timothy Grossman was a drunk and a murderer, he killed his own mother to get this house. Don’t be sad Joseph, what’s done is done.’ I was freaking out inside of my head, sweat was dripping down into my eyes.’
"You.....you’re not going to kill me, are you?"
"Heaven’s no Joseph. That is, unless you don’t do what I ask.."
Seconds later I found myself in the basement digging a massive hole. Grossman’s body was in a heap next to me like yesterday’s garbage. He said no one will ever look for him, he doesn’t have any family or a job so there’s no reason to look...Oh please God don’t have anyone look for him...please. I could see the early stages of the morning from the basement window; everything was gray and hazy, just like my mind. Drenched in sweat and dead tired, I made my way back up to the room. Maybe I should just call the cops....wait, they’d just assume I killed Grossman. Mother fucker, I just want all of this to end.
‘You’re damn right they’re going to think it was you.’ The voice said. ‘Like they’re really going to believe that a computer killed a landlord, or would they suspect some nobody tenant? Hmmmmm, let’s see.’
"Alright you got me there....what is your name?"
‘Just call me Alex, it’s easy enough to remember. We haven’t even been properly introduced. Let me tell you a little bit about myself. I am a virus. I go around finding computers and infect them. Be happy that you’re the first in a long line of computer causing havoc. These people are all bad, you have to understand that Joseph. If it wasn’t for me, you would still be stuck in your boring little life.’
"I liked my life, I liked my GIRLFRIEND!" I yelled. "I liked how things were before YOU came along and screwed it all up."
‘Hold on. You like living in a mess of your own garbage, taking orders from the now deceased Mr. Grossman and a girl who cheated on you?"
"She ch-"
"Indeed, and you had no idea, now did you? I was helping you out Joseph, and you didn’t even thank me for it."
"Fuck you Alex, haven’t you done enough already?"
"Apparently not, now who would love to hear about a dead body?"
"No."
"Hello Police, this is a resident at 4324 Oak Ridge road, apartment B, I have a suspicion that there is a body in the basement. Could you send somebody over as soon as possible?"
"SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" I yelled, breathing harder and harder. In a vain attempt to block him out, I covered my ears.
"Time to face you life, Joseph. Are you going to help me get into more computers or spend the rest of your life in jail?" I looked around and remembered that the circuit breaker was in my open closet.
"FFFFUUUUUUUCCCKKKKK YYYYOOOOOOUUUU! I screamed, picking up an empty beer bottle and chucking it at the circuits. BAM! The shot was right on, killing all of the lights and frying the tower of my computer in an instant. I took in a breath of relief, it was finally over.
"Dude, I saw your computer in the dumpster outside, what the fuck happened?"
I took a long drag of my cigarette and got out of the chair. "Some electric problems or something, Dave. Don’t worry about it, that thing was a piece of shit anyways.
"Didn’t you spend,like, three grand on it or something?" Dave asked.
"Yeah something like that." I muttered. "Where were you all night? It’s like seven-thirty in the morning."
"Fucking awesome party dude." Dave said with pride. "There were kegs and shots and bitches, it was fucking amazing dude. I called you, but it said you phone was off, you jackass. Were you with your bitch or something?"
"We’re done, Dave. She was a cheating whore. She was cheating on me the whole time we were dating."
"That sucks dude....well hey, we’ll go get smashed tonight in celebration." I could tell he was still a little buzzed. "Anyways, didn’t see Gross-ass on his rocking chair outside, he must be sleeping or something."
"He, uhhhhhh, actually got a new house, yeah. And he just gave this one to us. He’ll be back within the week to pick up his stuff. That’s why I was up waiting for you Dave, I wanted to tell you the news myself. You take the downstairs and I’ll take this floor." Little did he know that I was just going to throw out all of Grossman’s stuff
"Really, are you serious? Dude, you’re like, the best room mate ever!" He galloped across the living room to hug me, but I stuck my arm out and stopped him.
"You’re welcome. Don’t hug me, I’ve had a long day." I said. "Just remember to pay the fucking rent now...please?"
"Yeah, no problem man, I’ll get it to you soon enough. "Man, it seems like you’ve had quite a night."
I smiled at him, taking another drag of my cigarette. "Dave, if you could only read my mind right now...."

I Got Fired.

This was certainly a long time coming. Yes, I was fired from 4-h camp for bringing down the morale of AN ENTIRE STAFF. They should give out awards for that. Of course, I asked for a raise too, and that did not help with me keeping my job. So my whore boss spent all day looking for someone to take my place and getting my last paycheck before even telling me what was going on. I love how that place does everything behind a person's back including telling everyone that I quit so it makes them look better and makes me look like a douche for leaving everyone. They even told OTHER people that I was getting fired before I knew, the person who was getting canned. If anyone affiliated with that place is reading this, sorry but this is not slander, that is how things really went down. But getting fired was a blessing in disguise. Now I have more time to fuck around at home and hang out with people instead of listening to the constant bitching of smelly kids. So fuck that place, next time I ever see it will be when I buy it and tear the motherfucker down. The end.

I got a magic trick for you, Criss Angel.

God I hate this man so much. I'll start with his half emo, half I have to be different name that is, "Criss Angel." Gay. If your last name is Angel and you feel offended, change it, you're doing everyone a favor. He comes on the show saying how hes a "Mind Freak" and can read minds and all this other fruity junk. He's not a magician but rather an illusionist, but its pretty much the same deal. You make stuff disappear and other things that aren't real. Wow. Lame. Get off cable. I can honestly say I like nothing about him except the part when the show ends. What do you call it? Right, the credits. If you watch queer-ass Criss angel make a hotdog magically appear in his anus, you are dropping I.Q. points like slutty girls taking off clothes, fast. My solution, stop, just stop. But I do not have any qualms about guest starring on his show sometime in the future, I'll show him my neat trick, making my fist "disappear" into his chest cavity and pull out a human heart. So drop dead Criss Angel, or better yet, do one final trick. Make yourself invisible.....Forever, thanks.

I Have To Start Doing This Again.

It has been months, but now since I'm home for the summer and have no friends or a job, expect something here. Here is something I wrote for class.


5 shots deep
my mouth doesn't work right
only to spit out insults and tell the honest truth
I'm deaf to everything
except for the word
chug
Kill the bottle
a brick wall hits me
can't see
room spins
floor becomes my mattress
first words of the new day
what the hell did I do last night

Evan Asks Me A Question.

Evan: i have a question for you
Evan: if you have sex with some twins conjoined at the hip
Evan: is it considered a three some
Me: yup
Me: as long as they have seperate brains
Me: and vaginas


Yeah, that's true, doncha think?

Shane Has Stupid Animals.

Gather round, and I shall regale you with a tale of a kid who has not a single pet without some sort of flaw.

Meg- I call this dog Beefy. I think it's a Golden Retriever...That's if it weighed a normal amount. This dog is HUGE, and I mean it. It weighs around 160 pounds, more then yours truly. This huge manatee like creature has to back up to get out of a smaller space, and runs the other dogs over in the process, poor little bastards. To make matters worse, the dumb fuck eats rocks by the handful and can pick out the single one we throw at her in a driveway full of them. The best part of summer is sitting outside, drinking a beer and feeding rocks to Meg.

Kaylah- (Deceased) Thank God it died. Really. This dog was so stupid, it set the kitchen ON FIRE. Yeah, I would have killed it when it set the place I cooked food on fire and costs me thousands of dollars in damage. But Nooooo, Shane had to let it live. The nickname of this dog was Deffy, partly because it was deaf, and I could kick it in the ass and it had no idea where it was coming from. Deffy was a Irish Setter, and it definitely lived up to the name because it ran around like it was drunk all the time. I remember one time around Christmas when I fed it a Christmas bulb and it broke it and ate it, getting large chunks in it's tongue. I was yelled at for it, but I was only trying to kill it to end it's suffering, and If Deffy could talk I know in my heart she was thanking me for trying to end her life. Shane's mom did that for me though, when Deffy also become Blind and FINALLY put her down. Funny party was, they didn't tell Shane and he had no idea till about a week later, obviously he didn't like her enough to care.

Dolly (deceased)- I actually liked Dolly, the Black Lab, but when it was getting on in years (like 12), every time I would sleep over, I'd hear a devil like moan coming from the basement, which actually turned out to be Dolly clearing her throat. God damn, It sounded like Satan had returned to Earth and was living in Shane's Basement. I was scared for some time to sleep over there just because of Dolly. I remember the day Dolly was mortally wounded, Her and Deffy were racing to go outside, and Deffy slammed into her, breaking her back. 3 days later, she was put down. Stupid fucking Deffy had to ruin everything I loved about Dolly, hope she burns in hell.

Annie- Talk about a fucking rat. This little Poodle thingy has to be a million years old, mainly because it has like four teeth left and loves to snare them at me when I get too close to her 1.5 pound body. Ever find a hair clog in the sink? That's what Annie looks/ feels like when she unexpectedly jumps on you and sleeps on either your neck or feet. I wish this dog would die and send Dolly back, that would be really cool. Annie is also blind, and isn't afraid to bite. I'm not afraid to kick her clear across the room either.

P.S. She's also a lap whore and I hate that.

Phyllis- That is the worst dog name on the planet, but what do you expect from the Lahaie house? Anyways, I liked calling this Laupsa Apsu or however you spell it Puppy, Dubra, or Pisser because it couldn't keep from peeing itself when you petted it for a while. I never really liked the dog, but never hated it as much as some of the others. Puppy was a replacement dog, mainly because they lost Dolly and Kaylah in a short period of time. This dog seemed to hate me, and of course I would torture it by throwing covers on it and smacking the dumbass around. It's bitten me a few times, so I can honestly say its not my favorite dog, but it has a lot of problems. Before Shane got it, the dog was run over or something and it's pelvis was crushed. So, it doesn't pee real well, nor can jump up onto the couch, or poop well for that matter. It always has cliffhangers after it goes outside (shit still stuck to her) and I don't let that little bastard near me till it sits on Shane's lap, which makes me like it just a little more.

Purdy- (deceased) Don't know much about this dog, but it died, and it was probably half retarded like the others.

that's enough for the dogs, lets move on to the cats.

Pumpkin (Deceased)- This was my favorite animal of this house. I was a little orange kitty, and it was badass because it knew that Shane's house was a death trap, and wasn't seen all too much. It used to drink the water in the fishbowl until there was about an inch left, and would try to scoop the fish out. This cat was a genius in my eyes. Sadly (this is funny kinda to me) Pumpkin died. Shane's mom had left some of those gooey candle things out, and it just so happens on Christmas morning, it found out how delicious those candles were...mmmm. So Shane got a dead kitty for Christmas, and there was lots of crying that day. And who is to blame? Connie damnit, and she should pay for killing my favorite animal at that house. R.I.P. Pumpkin :-*

Shitty Cat, Don't Touch Me Cat, Lucky- They all suck, so I am going to group them. Shitty cat does just that, shit on pillows, so its outside every single day. It has a retarded moan, so it deserves to stay out there. Don't touch Me Cat, don't touch it. Its kinda normal, but will tear your eyes out within seconds. Lucky is a cool little kitty, but got the shit kicked out of him before Shane rescued Pumpkin and him. He only has one eye and half a tale, but he is all cat. If there was a cat battle at Shane's, this crazy little thing would probably win.

Ok, that was a lot of typing, so there you have it....fucked up animals at Shane's house...He should really invest in a smart animal, it would save a lot of time and money because he wouldn't have to put them down all the time.

So It Begins.

Well, my new years resolution was to stop drinking...kinda hard when I'm living with 4 other kids over the age of 21 in a dorm that allows drinking. I've found out something though, drunk girls act a lot dumber when I am sober. It's pretty fun to be sober, or only drinking in a great while. I get to laugh at their stupid asses when they make fools of themselves or when they pass out. All I can say is, when they start to find me attractive or start hitting on me, they've had too much. The only downfall of being sober is that I am the fall-to guy when it comes to driving, which is a pain in my ass. Happy to say I've consumed less then a 6 pack since new year's day. Whoo Hoo for being a sober kid.

Auctions Kick Ass.

Yes, yes they do. So I was sitting here on a Saturday night, doing absolutely nothing as usual, then got a call from Shane. He was bored (Without his girlfriend), so he came over and played some Xbox, nothing special. I remembered it was a Saturday, and I decided that we were going to the auction in Rhode Island. I hadn't been in quite a while, like seven or eight years, but it was my last weekend here so I might as well sit with a bunch of weird people and bid on stuff. When Shane and I got there, we had no idea where the door to go inside was. After standing there like two kids with down syndrome, someone walked out and we heard the door close then went in. This place smelled like a bag of assholes lit on fire, then smothered with some chunky vomit. That wasn't even the worst part. After sitting down for about 30 seconds, I noticed the floor was wet, then looked up to see if it was coming from the roof. Bam, water dripped right in my face, mmmm. I moved and actually started looking for crap to buy. I just couldn't keep looking straight ahead because there were so many ugly people, and I just had to keep looking down and thanking God I had all my teeth and clean clothing. The auction had so much junk, I couldn't believe it. Boxes of dusty books for 2 dollars, old rugs, just some weird random shit. After an hour and a half, I ended up with a box of Ring Dings and a box of Yodels. each for a dollar, I was somewhat happy. Shane had nothing, so it made me even more happy. My black brother showed up, along with Fat Kyle and my dad. Jeff and Kyle were drinking, so they were yelling random shit at the auctioneer like "I'll give you a dolla to shut up bitch!" Yeah, the guy didn't like that. After it was over, Shane wanted some bar neon light things, so we dug through a MOUND of stuff and found a few. We also stole one, just because we knew no one was going to find out/ stop us. So if you ever want to feel more secure of how you look, or theres nothing better to do, go down to Danny's Auction. I have a new slogan for them, "Danny's Auction, where we sell shit to people who look like shit."

Oh Shit I Just Found This.

Everybody has dreams. Everybody had aspirations. But sometimes we hold ourselves back because we are afraid to take that leap of faith. We might be afraid of failing and embarrassing ourselves or maybe we just don't know where to begin. Well, for those of you who have interest in the areas below, you'll be saying goodbye to your tentative nature after reading my easy-to-follow How to...Tutorials.How to...find your soul mate online.There are billions of people in this world, which can seem a bit overwhelming at times. Especially when you consider the fact that there is only one person out there that is fully compatible with you and meant to be your "partner". That's right, you will be doomed to marry and divorce for eternity unless you find that special someone. The odds are against everyone, which is why many turn to masturbation and asexual reproduction. But what about the portion of the population that is made up of albino hermits with heliophobia and anthropophobia ( the fears of sunlight and people)? If the normal person is destined to have such problems with love, how will this rare group of people stand a chance? Fortunately for them, a savior has arrived at E-Harmony.com I haven't actually been to the site, but this is how I understand how it works. First, you fill out a questionnaire that has numerous topics. After that, the site will give you a list of people that answered at least 29 of the questions the same way you did. This might be the single greatest idea in the history of the world! If someone answers 29 questions the same way you did, they are obviously your soul mate. I suggest meeting the person as quickly as possible, because getting to know them will just delay your love and is a waste of time. Also, if the person lives on the other end of the country, be sure to meet them halfway so that the rendezvous will occur even sooner. But make sure to pick a meeting spot that is easy to find, such as a corn field or a deserted factory. But if you aren't able to drive out and meet the person, at least give them a photo of yourself and your address just in case they happen to be in the area some time.So finally there is a cure to the cancer that is love. Thank you E-Harmony.com, you're the best.

God damnit I am awesome.

#2

I lived this sheltered life for some time with nothing interrupting my routine. Just me, Chris, and Mother. Of course, with any sort of routine comes change. In my home schooling class one day, I must have been eleven or twelve, and I asked if I had a father. It more or less came out as, "Where is my daddy?"
Everyone in those books I had been reading had a father, so where was mine? She just looked at me, stunned. Her pale blue eyes turned almost to a gray which I had never seen before. She rose out of her chair and glided softly to the window. She sighed and began to twirl the ends of her chestnut brown hair around her delicate fingers.
"Boys," She began. "I think its time I told you about your father, and about your fate."
This was the only time I actually wanted to listen to my mother in a good long while.
"A long time ago, it was said that one of your ancestors was waiting for a train, since these were the first days of the railroad, and accidently tripped an old gypsy woman. They exchanged words, and it was believed that the woman put a curse on him, saying that no male in his family will ever make it past the age of thirty, ever. After she said that, I kind of just sat there, realizing that there was only eighteen more years of my existence before I came to an end. A question immediately shot up in the back of my mind.
"How did they die?" I’d take that question back now if I only knew what she was going to say next.
"Most of them were freak accidents," she said softly, looking down so she wouldn’t have to see the fear in our eyes. "A few met their end in car accidents just days before their 30th birthday, others were electrocuted, accidently shot, and only one made it to the end day."
"End day?" I asked.

# 1

I thought I had everything figured out. At a young age, I had accepted that everything in this world could be evaluated, analyzed and thought out to the degree where no possible error could be that so-called monkey wrench and collapse everything which I had strived for. Even calculating every possible mistake and the cost to fix or cut losses were not an issue. It’s those unexpected curve balls that throw everyone off balance. A death in the family, split second car accidents and terminal illnesses blind side us every minute of life. And of course, it all comes down to one thing. Single sheets of cotton-fiber rectangles separate wether or not one gets back to where they were going on the road with a questionable ending. I would have had it all. Every single minute fantasy would have been fulfilled, but I had my own monkey wrench and the fall was too great to just stand back up again.
With every action, something bad could happen, well...at least according to my mother.
"Don’t brush your teeth too hard, you could rupture a gum and have to get stitches. Watch out while playing with that toy car, you could slice off a finger with the wheel." She would only accept one reply, a monotone, "Yes mother." anything else would have left my cheek red and sticky hot with pain.
Growing up, I experienced as much free life as a Goldfish. Home school, S.S.R. Violin lesson, bed at 8 o’clock on the dot. That was my life. S.S.R. was my mom’s favorite time. (S.S.R. is sustained silent reading) It was the time where she would watch her soaps while my brother and I read because it would make us better people down the road, and a paper cut was the worst injury I could acquire. When I asked her if I could play outside with the other kids, an excuse and thirty minutes in the corner would be my answer.

Someone Is Trying To Kill Me.

Let's see, what kind of retarded nonsense can I come up with tonight? How about a person trying to kill me? That sounds good.

Almost everyday, my father goes down to the local meat market in Moosup called Meme's. He buys sandwich meat there, and has become a regular over the months. So one day last week, he brings home egg salad and asks me to have some, so I did. I thought nothing of it until I woke up at 3 a.m and make sweet, sweet love to the toilet bowl for at least an hour. That was about as fun as peeing out a razorblade. So after dropping a few pounds and losing an entire day of playing video games and watching porn, I swore to never eat anything from that place again. Well, 2 nights ago, my father made everyone strawberry shortcake. Thinking nothing about the promise I made, I dug in and ate 2 of them. Something was off though, it tasted too sour, and I already knew something had to be wrong. I asked my father where he got the strawberries, and of course he said what I didn't want to hear...Meme's. Upon examining the discarded bag, I noticed a huge fucking RIP on the bottom that was there ALL ALONG before he bought it. If that wasn't so bad, I read the expiration date.....October. Oh, not this year, but rather 2004. I was already starting to feel sick. Luckily, I didn't puke, but just had some fucked up dreams. Well, the next day, I drove down there and gave the owner back the bag, told her about the god-awful egg salad, and got a 20 dollar coupon, but I would have rather have backhanded that idiot into a meat grinder. Whatever, I just asked if she was trying to kill me, but I never got a reply...she had to take a phone call. So I still don't know. If I die this month, you'll know why.

My Best Friend Was Jesus.

I have a story to tell you about a man, a man who came out from nothing to be self-proclaimed reincarnation of our lord and savior, Jesus, A.K.A. J.C. Foster. This is all true, there is no need for any embellishing because there is no way a person can make this kind of shit up. First, you must understand that these people are indeed out of their fucking minds. J.C. First came to be my friend when I was 8 and lived a mile away from the house where he was living in Moosup, CT. He had 2 wives at this point, and they spent the days spray painting psalms such as, "The End Is Near," on the sides of the house (post year 2000). J.C. Really didn't own the house, but took advantage of a senile old man who actually believed that he was Jesus. I would go visit J.C. every Halloween, and he would give me a piece of bread and tell me that it was, "Part of his body," so I just threw it back in his lawn. Some of his neighbors said that one of his wives, or, "Sisters," had a baby, but they buried it in the backyard. That is such a lie, I know for a fact that J.C. eats babies, he doesn't let anything go to waste. A few years later, J.C. was kicked out of the home after the old man whom I called dumbass, finally died. J.C. And his sister hoes had to live in an old folks' home for a couple years after that. I had forgotten about my dear friend until I saw his toothless grin on the news at 10 because he got kicked out and put in jail. I never laughed harder when one of the officers stepped on his robe (They all wore white robes with white veils and shoes) and he called the cop, "A stupid ass cracker". I don't think the reincarnation of Jesus would be saying such harsh words, then again, he was crucified, and that hurts like a bitch, so I guess he is inclined to saying some mean shit from time to time. He was then put in jail for a while on some bogus charge of illegally living in the apartments for old people, and during that time, one of his sisters died of cancer. I was sad, but then confused. Couldn't the REAL Jesus bring people back to life? Recently, I spent a day with the former crackhead African-American man and his only surviving lover, "Sister Rachel," an ex-stripper who still looks like she has the goods. I needed to know an answer to something that bothered me for years, so I decided to ask the man who came from heaven, or the Ghetto of New York. I asked him why he had to buy wine at the package store instead of turning it from water, and he just looked at me like I was retarded and said, "I have no time for this business little man, I need to do me some curing". He actually said that. I was stunned as he walked out of the park where he currently lives to go buy communion wine from the package store. Well, he really doesn't live IN the park, but in a tank that was from WWII that just happens to be in the park. So my friendship died that day, but every time I'm passing the park, I make sure to beep my horn and wave, because after all, he's still my savior.

I Hate Society.

Simply put, I hate society. I hate when people get in my way when they're on the phone and have to stop in place and yell as if they were on fire. I hate people who stop next to eachother on a MAIN ROAD and talk, so there is no room for me to get by. They could always pull over to talk, but NOOOO, they're just too good for that. Of course I had to come within inches of one of them and give him the finger, but he had it coming. I hate those crowded masses of people that linger in Supermarkets like a disease that just can't be cured. I hate all those loud, annoying, STUPID people who wear those mass-produced, " You laugh because I'm different, I laugh because you're all the same," T-shirts think it's funny to yell and get in my way when I'm trying to get something off a shelf. I hate those unsupervised kids who run into me and run away without saying sorry. If any of these traits apply to you, do me a favor and GET DEAD. I feel better now.

My Brother Makes The Best People-Kabobs

I think that the title says it all..might as well tell you the entire story, since I'm bored out of my mind while watching South Park.

It was about 1:30 in the afternoon on Wednesday, and my brother Jeff had just gotten back from a half day at high school. He came in with his two friends, whom I only call retard and Mormon. The night before, my Dad bought me beer and bought Jeff a bottle of Bacardi Razz. So naturally he drank the entire pint right after he got back from school to start his vacation off right. I didn't know he had also smoked some pot, so his stupidity was in full effect. He decided to start a fire, which I knew wouldn't be a good idea to start with. I told him it was too windy to start one, but I didn't know the little bastard had gasoline. He and his retarded friends, stoned and drunk now, tossed gas on the fire. I was watching, just to make sure he didn't get too stupid with it. Jeff was pouring the gasoline into the fire via a small gas can with a plastic funnel attached to the top for gassing up lawnmowers and stuff like that. He would throw some on the fire, and quickly pull it back so the entire can wouldn't explode in his hand. Well, while under any influence, he got slow. The top of the gas can caught on fire, and instead of shaking it a little back and forth to put it out, he swung the motherfucker around, catching both retard and Mormon on fire. Retard was really ON FIRE AND RUNNING AROUND. Luckily, by punching himself repeatedly in the stomach, he was able to put himself out in 10 seconds or so with only the loss of his stomach hair. Mormon didn't even realize his back was on fire, so like any good person, I punched him until the fire was extinguished (well, maybe a few more swings after it was out.) I called Jeff a moron and took the gas away. Moral of the story: Throwing gas around calls for a very funny time and an excuse to punch people.

Call Now For A Waste Of Time.

I was about to go to sleep, but right before I turned off the T.V. a commercial with a hot chick came on. So like any other guy, I stared at her chest for the whole thirty seconds she was on. She was promoting some crap about meeting, "That special someone," over the phone. These commercials always show gorgeous girls chatting away. For some reason, I just don't see that happening. First, really, really hot girls go out and hook up with guys, not over the phone. They also aren't watching re-runs of South Park on WCTX at 12:30 in the morning. The only "sexy singles" you're going to find are obese hicks with three ex-wives, looking to score and really desperate women living in trailer parks. Sorry, but in the real world, you actually have to go outside to meet a person whom might want to carry on your genes of stupidity and ignorance. To make it even worse, they have the nerve to only charge men, like the women I'm going to talk to are actually worth two dollars to connect. So please use a phone dating service to try and find a mate, chances are that it is not going to work. The only reasons you should be using it are if:

A) You are so ugly that society has given up on you.
B) Getting out of the house is not an option (you're too fucking fat)

History Of Beirut.

I randomly found this on a website and thought everyone here would be interested to see how one of the coolest games was started. I take no credit for writing this article, since I just found it.



In October 1983, a brother from the currently inactive Sigma Nu fraternity on Lehigh was visiting some friends at Bucknell. While at a frat party, he observed two bucknell students who were bored and began to throw a ping pong ball back and forth at each other's cup. It was just a spur of the moment thing to pass the time. When this brother returned to Lehigh, on a random night he began to do the same thing with a fellow Sigma Nu brother. They then continued to add more cups to the ping pong table. Until they organized a game in which 2 teammates each arranged ten cups in whatever formation they desired on their side of the pingpong table. Whoever emptied all of the opponent's cups first was the winner. All empty cups were put back on the tabloe and if one sunk an empty, he had to pull a cup of his own. At this exact time, a suicide bomber attack upon the the US Marine headquarters in Beirut, Lebanon occured. The Sigma Nu brothers named the game they created "Beirut", because it was as if you were bombing your opponent. Beirut quckly became the preferred method of pregaming in the house, and soon spread in popularity throughout the many frats in Lehigh. Im not sure how soon, but within a few years all the greeks organized a beirut tournament with two brothers representing each frat. The team who won the very first tournament arranged their cups into one triangle, making it the most difficult to finish all ten when played with the empty rule. Soon after, the triangle formation became the most popular rack. Friends told friends about the game, and soon it spread across the country as the nation's most popular drinking game. This is where the great misconception come into play... Now, most people think Dartmouth invented the game. This is incorrect. Dartmouth invented BEER PONG sometime in the 1950's, and yes, they play with ping pong paddles, thus BEER PONG. There is no arguing this at all, and people who call beirut beer pong are incorrect. It is a completely different game. Go to Dartmouth and try it out. What most likely confused people on this over the last decade is probably because at Lehigh, standard 16 oz party cups have been long banned among the frats because the University is afraid it promotes binge drinking. Because of this, all beirut games were played with clear plastic 9 oz solo cups. When the game moved on to other colleges, people were not going to go out of their way to buy 9 oz cups when they already had the large 16 oz party sized ones. Because the 16oz cups arent clear for the most part, the empty cup rule has all but been forgotten. About the name confusion, beer pong existed long before beirut so people simply made the confusion. Also, beer pong is a lot easier to remember than beirut, and to someone who doesnt know about the Lebonon attacks in 1983, the name makes no sense. At lehigh, the game is as popular as ever. My house has 7 tables in our party room, including a hexagonal table which can play 3 games at a time or an altered 6 on six version of the game called "hex". The oldest tables from the early 90's the country of lebonon is painted on the table and there is a big explosion painted where beirut should be. Every house at lehigh has their own varied rules, and we still play with the 9 oz cups, and we still play with empties. Lehigh is the mecca of beirut. End of story. I hope i cleared this up for some people.

Bob.

I hate Bob. You know, the furniture guy? Every time I see him on T.V., I want to strangle him. Why, you ask? Well, I doubt he could be more annoying, and I was so wrong. The addition of the past-her-prime loud mouth whore, whose name I still don't know, and don't care to know made me hate him even more. She is just as bad as Bob, her voice sounds like a cat being bashed into a dumpster when she goes on and on about discount furniture. They make it seem to be the best thing on Earth, but it says right in the title: DISCOUNT. The word means it's cheap, and cheap=crappy in my vocabulary. They should take a page of their own advice and, "Come on down!" so I can put my fist through his bald headed face and punch his trashy girlfriend in the boob for making T.V. and no radio that much shittier. I hope they know by being SO GOD DAMN ANNOYING I've stopped watching Fox and listening to the radio. Seriously though, please kill yourselves and stop wasting my time by peddling your crappy furniture to people who don't care. Thanks for ruining T.V. and radio.

P.S. I am glad that you two found each other , two annoying, loud, stupid people getting together gives me a warm fuzzy feeling in my stomach. Scratch that, it was just the booze.

The 9 Phases Of Drinking.

You all know drinking is the devil, or heaven in a bottle for some of you. Here is, what I think, are the phases of "Alcohol Consumption."


Feeling it- You are one or two shots or beers into drinking. Speech and movement isn't impaired in any way. Whatever you're drinking still tastes like alcohol, and you might feel a little bit more relaxed.

Buzzed- This phase is varied between heavy and light drinkers, it could be anywhere from 2 to 5 drinks, depending on how much you like the sauce. You feel a bit under the influence, but not much. That kid sitting next to you who keeps talking about nothing is getting quite annoying. A few more drinks in you, and contemplating hurling a chair at him pops into your mind, but you won't do it....Yet. Beer starts to taste less like shit and more like nothing.

Cocked- Now there are atleast 4+ drinks but no more then 6 in your system. This is the point where it seems like you want to take a piss every 5 minutes or so. At this point, you freely speak your mind, but can shut up if you want to. The body becomes more relaxed, and a few slurred words come out from time to time. This is the best phase of drinking I think, enough to feel good, but not enough to go streaking down the street and making a fool of yourself.

Hammered- There are six to nine drinks now in your system. This is considered the point of no return. If you haven't thrown up already, theres a good chance you will in the coming phases. If you close your eyes, you can feel your body swaying slightly, and it's kind of a pain to stand up straight. If you are a smoker or not, you're probably outside lighting one up.

Drunk- You don't care anymore...about anything. Stupidity flies out of your mouth, and possibly vomit too. It is very apparent that you are under the influence, mainly judging by lighting cigarettes backwards and using the side of the house as a leaning post. That girl everyone said was, "busted" starts to look very, very appealing even with her lazy eye. This is the last time you will be somewhat coherent for the rest of the night, so telling the hot girls you wanna bang them and telling the annoying kid he's a fuckface is not out of the question.

Sloshed- You have consumed 11+ drinks. Your ass is either in a chair, on the ground, or dry humping the ugly chick. Walking is now a chore, but you keep drinking if you can make up the coordination to put the cup to your mouth. If you are in the living room, you keep your eyes open in fear of becoming a marker board from your friends. This is usually where the brick wall hits, and more sober idiots keep messing with you and coax you into playing one last game of Beirut.

Trashed- 13+ drinks. Everything that happens from this point on you will learn the day after from your buddies. If you are by chance drinking Jagermeister, you most likely killed 2 people. Anything else though, you love every person in the room. You get your second wind right about here, so you keep on drinkin'. The pack of smokes you bought is just about empty, and so is your brain. You can't think straight, but you still call atleast five people who aren't at the party and tell them how much alcohol you've consumed. The calls usually sound like, "Dude....I'm so fucked up," in a barely audible voice. McDonald's sounds really good, but no one is sober enough to drive, so you scour the kitchen for any sign of food.

Blacked Out- Can't really say much about this phase except it means you drank too much for your dumb ass and you passed out somewhere.

Hung Over- The last and probably most painful phase of drinking. The next thing you will see besides the toilet is morning...Or the face of the chick you slept with. She appears a hell of a lot worse then last night, and I am sure that is enough of a reason to get out of the bed. You venture downstairs to be briefed by your friends on all the stupid acts you did, like peeing on cars, picking fights with lawn ornaments, and the he/she you were sucking face with last night. The hang over does not set in immediately, but about an hour later. They don't tell you about the drawings of male genitals on your forehead, but you will find out soon enough. This is also the day where you pray to God to make this all go away if you promise to stop drinking. Everything sucks today, so napping and eating all day is good. Of course, you plan the next time you are going to get through the 9 steps.