Various Aspects Of Physics

Zero Point Energy is defined as the lowest possible energy in a quantum system. Albert Einstein and Otto Stern first proposed it in 1913. It is believed that all quantum systems contain
zero point energy, or Nullpunktsenergie as it is known in German. Zero point is based on Planck’s constant. Using this, Einstein and Stern published a paper declaring that there is still
residual energy left over even when a system reaches absolute zero. Because this zero point energy exists even when all other energy is removed from the system, it is impossible for the
zero point energy to be taken out. This energy has been perceived as “free energy”, drawing the attention of many people interested in harnessing this energy for new inventions.
If zero point energy exists, then it must have a gravitational field. This poses an interesting scenario, as the amount of zero point in space is nearly infinitely large, so large that it could warp
the fabric of space and time. How could something which is so small, effect something on such a large scale? In any event, if zero point energy exists, then it would be invaluable in no methods
of propulsion and levitation.
Turbulence is defined as the disrupt of laminar flow. One type of turbulence is wake turbulence, which occurs when a wing shaped object is flying or moving through a liquid. An example of wake
turbulence is a submarine traveling through water or an airplane flying. A special circumstance of turbulence, which occurs with airplanes, is called a tip vortex. A tip vortex occurs at the very tip of
a wing as the air circulates around it because of the lift generated by the wings. This phenomenon explains why airplanes leave behind thing clouds as they fly.
A determining factor in Turbulence is Reynolds’s number. Reynolds number is the ratio of inertial forces to viscous forces, and can only be determined experimentally. If the Reynolds number of an
object is below 2100, it is considered laminar whereas if the number is 4000 or greater, it is turbulent.
The reduction of Reynolds’s number, and consequently turbulence, would be less drag. This would allow airplanes to travel much faster and with greater fuel efficiency, revolutionizing air travel.

Cataclysmic star systems are systems of two stars that orbit around each other and are bound by gravity. This is known as binary star system. In one of these systems, the brightest star is known
and the primary star while the other star is known as the secondary star. In a binary system, the stars will occasionally share a Roche lobe. A Roche lobe is the area of a star where the material is
bound to the star through gravity. There are several types of binary systems. A detached binary system is when there is no physical connection between both of the stars and they re both
spherically shaped, unless one of them is rotating unusually fast. The next type is semi-detached binary where one star has a full Roche lobe and slightly resembles an egg, and as a result
of the filled lobe, it begins to have some of its matter pulled away by the other star. The final type of binary system is a cintact binary system, where the two stars have full Roche lobes and
are either in contact or extremely close.

Star destruction is a phenomenon when huge stars cannot fuel themselves anymore, causing implosion, and massive amounts of energy to be released into space. The stars begin as white or
brown dwarfs, and then expand into super and hyper giants. Once there is not enough helium and hydrogen to fuel their expansion, they implode resulting in explosions large enough to destroy
our entire solar system. The scale at which these happen is nearly immeasurable and the destructive power they have is absurd. Because stars expand as they grow old, they begin to burn more
helium and hydrogen. As this happens, the core of the star begins to come in contact with the outer layers of the star. As this happens, the outer layer and thus the star cools and becomes less
bright. Depending on the initial mass of the star, it will then become a red giant or a red super giant. Thus, a star’s life span is determined by its original mass.

Mental Time Travel [MTT]

1. INTRODUCTION

The term Mental time travel (MTT) has first been introduced by Suddendorf
and Corballis in 1997 and has since become an accepted and important topic of
research in the scientific community. MTT refers to the ability of humans to mentally
project themselves into the past or the future - to re-live or pre-live events[1].
It is therefore a remarkably flexible tool for humans to predict, plan and shape any
future situation. While, without a doubt, it provides a tremendous advantage for
natural selection, the purpose of many aspects of this ability still remain unclear,
as well as the fact, that it does not seem to have evolved in any other species (see
section 5). Whereas the systems and neural correlates for future travels have only
recently become subject of research, MTT to the past has been extensively studied
under a different name: episodic memory (EM).

2. A CLOSER DEFINITION OF MENTAL TIME TRAVEL
Before discussing MTT in detail, it should be clearly set apart from related, but
different, phenomena.
Let’s focus on past MTT for a moment, since for the memory systems, a widely
used taxonomy has already been formulated. Non-declarative memory (e.g. conditioning)
may also serve as a predictor of the near future, but it is bound to the
perception of stimuli. This bottom-up system through perception clearly does not
belong into the domain of MTT. Declarative memory on the other hand, is a topdown
system, not bound to perception and provides a greater flexibility. It is further
divided into semantic and episodic memory: Whereas the episodic memory contains
the personal experience of an event, the semantic memory merely holds the
knowledge extracted from this event. Recollecting where and when one has learned
about an information, is different from solely knowing that fact. This property of
the episodic memory has been named autonoetic consciousness by Tulving (1985)
and is essentially what MTT is about. In addition to retrospection however, Suddendorf
proposed that there is also a prospective counterpart to episodic memory -
therefore forming the notion of MTT as the capacity to both re- and pre-experience
personal events[1]. Whether or not it is valid (in a neuroanatomical view) to merge
those two abilities into one system is discussed in section 4.
For further clarification, it is helpful to look at some psychological notions that
might be confused with MTT. For example, daydreaming (mind wandering) may
involve MTT, but does not necessarily involve the self as a character. It can rather
contain purely fictitious characters and improbable events. Similarly, prospective
memory, defined as “memory for actions to be performed in the future such as
remembering to give a message to a friend or remembering to take medication”[2],
does not require the person pre-living the task.

3. METHODS OF INVESTIGATING MENTAL TIME TRAVEL
A classical approach in memory research is the use of questionnaires, which is
still the only viable method for numerous research aims. For instance, Berntsen
(2008) could show that involuntary MTT occurs frequently in daily life, simply by
equipping her participants with a notebook and instructions to take notes of time
travel occurrences[2]. In contrast, even sophisticated imaging experiments focused
only on well controlled, voluntary MTT. Questionnaires certainly contain a great
deal of difficulties, such as the requirement for cooperation and reliability of the
subjects or the objective judgment of the highly heterogeneous data. However they
can provide unique information about the content of mental representations, the
environmental stimuli triggering MTT or the impact on mood.
In brain imaging experiments, the subject is usually presented with stimuli (e.g.
key words) for which he or she has to imagine a past or future event. The recorded
information, depending on the task, can contain a combination of behavioural data
(reaction time, error rate) and different imaging methods, usually EEG, PET or
fMRI. Due to their coarse temporal resolution, PET and fMRI cannot provide precise
information about the temporal activity pattern but can provide the brain regions
involved with high spatial resolution. For identifying the dynamics of activity,
EEG is the method of choice (usually measuring slow cortical potentials (SCP)
or evoked potentials)[3].

4. NEURAL CORRELATES OF MENTAL TIME TRAVEL
In the past, functional MRI studies have thoroughly identified the brain regions
involved in autobiographical memory. Recent research comparing future with past
MTT has found the same patterns of activity as in those previous studies. Therefore
supporting the view of a common neuronal system for both past and future
MTT, which might be counter intuitive, due to the fundamental asymmetry of those
two components (past is fact whereas future is fiction). The fMRI results involve
a widespread left-predominant cerebral activity and three regions with particular
high activation: The medial prefrontal cortex (mPFC), the medial temporal lobes
(particularly the hippocampi) and posterior regions [4]. Using sophisticated analysis
methods, EEG measurements can also be applied to create a voltage topography
map (evoked potential map), which in a recent study by Arzy et al. (2008) has
shown to be consistent with the regions described in fMRI studies. In particular,
three regions could be localized that are activated 300-600 ms after stimulus onset
(i.e. a key word as mentioned earlier): The left anteromedial temporal cortex, the
right temporoparietal junction and the occipitotemporal cortex [5]. Surprisingly,
he did not mention prefrontal regions anywhere in this study. Most likely, they are
important at a later stage in the MTT process.
The left hippocampus is related to the retrieval of context-dependent autobiographical
memory, i.e. it acts as an index-like code to retrieve storage of personal
specific events from different cortical sites. Unlike the right hippocampus which is
only associated with place context, the left hippocampus is involved in both place
and person conditions. It is therefore interpretable as a necessary first step to create
the representation of a past or future event [4]. The occipitotemporal cortex is
known to be involved in recall through visual imagery and clinical studies have described
amnesia with damage to this structure. The temporoparietal junction plays a crucial role in self-other distinction, self-location in space and - with this new data - also self-location in time [5].
Though minor differences in activity patterns between past and future MTT
could be observed using EP mapping, I will focus on the measurement of slow
cortical potentials (negative potential shifts at the scalp, reflecting activation of underlying
cortical regions) to illustrate this difference. By measuring SCPs during
the generation of experienced or imagined mental representations, it is possible to
clearly distinguish those two components of MTT. Experienced memories were associated
with significantly larger negative dc shifts over occipito-temporal regions,
reflecting the access of autobiographical imagery. In contrast, a more intense activation
of the left PFC for imagined events was observed, which may reflect the
generation of generic imagery in those networks [3].
In light of recent research, it is therefore hypothesized that MTT does not only
involve memory mechanisms, but mechanisms of mental imagery and self-location
as well [5].
Many of the brain regions discussed here, have undergone profound developments
that are unique for humans, therefore neurophysiological results may support
the view that animals are not capable of MTT. A matter that will be discussed
next.

5. MENTAL TIME TRAVEL IN ANIMALS?
Evolutionary considerations.

An evolutionary explanation for MTT, in particularfor episodic memory, cannot easily be provided. EM is highly selective and retains only a tiny fraction of experiences (you may encounter dozens of people each day,
but only remember a few). At the same time, a vast amount of details such as
the precise location in space and time, the weather conditions, the persons present,
the words exchanged, and so forth are remembered. In a comment to Suddendorfs
work, Dessalles described it as a “waste of storage” in a computational perspective,
since it does not allow generalization of the learned content (as in semantic memory)
and it is highly unlikely that a person will ever encounter a situation matching
all those parameters again [1]. An other astonishing fact is, that much of our cortical
mass is devoted to EM, making it a seemingly important system. At the same
time, its constructive nature makes it prone to errors and even in intact systems
autobiographical memories can be entirely false (confabulation), let alone in cases
of amnesia where EM is the most vulnerable, fragile system [3].
The closely related brain areas and the similarities between past and future MTT
might explain EM as a side-effect or prerequisite (providing the raw-material) for
creating mental presentations of the future (which in an evolutionary point of view
are obviously more valuable). As with other human attributes, such as theory of
mind or language, MTT is considered a product of the hominins being forced into
a “cognitive niche” by danger from predators as a result of climate changes 2.5
million years ago [1].
Animal research

Any research about cognitive evolution has the intrinsic problem,
that we can only observe animal behaviour, but we can never know what their
mental state is, i.e. whether they are mentally time traveling anywhere.
Experimenting with episodic memory is especially challenging, since the result
is never conclusive. Previously, animals could be shown to perform extraordinarily
on certain memory tasks, but simply knowing something does not imply that
the animal actually remembers when and where it has acquired this knowledge.
Thus, future MTT is suggested to be the more promising subject of research, since
it would essentially provide the selective advantage and hence be visible to evolution
(or clever researchers) [1]. The Bischof-Köhler hypothesis (1985) states, that
animals can only act on present needs or drive states, as opposed to future needs.
At first sight, this seems incorrect as exemplified by the caching of food, the manufacturing
of tools by some animals or other spectacular accomplishments under
experimental conditions. However, I will refrain from quoting any of this previous
work, since a closer examination of the results always allows alternative explanations
based on instinct or associative learning. Thus far, in more personal, flexible
situations involving non-instinctive behaviours, the Bischof-Köhler hypothesis has
not yet been falsified. A nonverbal test for MTT has to meet many criteria, such as
controlling the current need state (e.g. that the animal is not thirsty at the present)
and providing the opportunity to to secure a future need (e.g. obtaining a drink for
a thirst inducing future situation) involving species-untypical behaviour [1].
Sophisticated experiments are presently carried out and fascinating new insights
are to be expected in the near future.

Language Facts

The shortest word in the English language with all its letters in alphabetical order is the word "almost."
The Philippines has more than 1,000 regional dialects and two official languages.
The only MLB team to have both its city's name and its team name in a foreign language is the San Diego Padres.
The longest word in the Finnish language, that isn't a compound word, is 'epaejaerjestelmaellistyttaemaettoemyydellaensaekaeaen'. In English it means 'even with their lack of ability to disorganize'.
The longest word in the English language, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, is pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanokoniosis. The only other word with the same amount of letters ispneumonoultra-microscopicsilicovolcanoconioses, its plural.
The longest word in the English language is 1909 letters long and it refers to a distinct part of DNA.
The longest one syllable word in he English language is "screeched".
The letter most in use in the English language is "E" and the letter "Q" is least used.
The computer programming language ADA was named in honor of Augusta Ada King. The U.S. Defense Department named the language after the Countess of Lovelace and daughter of Lord Byron because she helped finance and program what is thought to be the first computer, the “analytical engine” designed by Charles Babbage.
The Chinese language does not require punctuation.
The "huddle" in football was formed due a deaf football player who used sign language to communicate and his team didn't want the opposition to see the signals he used and in turn huddled around him.
South Africa used to have two official languages, now it has eleven.
Some biblical scholars believe that Aramaic (the language of the ancient Bible) did not contain an easy way to say 'many things' and used a term which has come down to us as 40. This means that when the bible -in many places -refers to '40 days,' they meant many days.
Seoul, the South Korean capital, just means "the capital" in the Korean language.
Rudyard Kipling was fired as a reporter for the San Francisco Examiner. His dismissal letter was reported to have said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Kipling, but you just don't know how to use the English language. This isn't a kindergarten for amateur writers."
According to Illinois state law, it is illegal to speak English. The officially recognized language is "American."
Widow is the only female form in the English language that is shorter than its corresponding male term (widower).
Victor Hugo's Les Miserable contains one of the longest sentences in the French language 823 words without a period.
There is only ONE word in the English language with THREE CONSECUTIVE SETS OF DOUBLE LETTERS.... Bookkeeper
There is a word in the English language with only one vowel, which occurs five times: "indivisibility."
There is a seven letter word in the English language that contains ten words without rearranging any of its letters, "therein": the, there, he, in, rein, her, here, ere, therein, herein.
There are two words in the English language that have all five vowels in order: "abstemious" and "facetious."
There are thirteen languages spoken by more than 100 million people. They are: Mandarin Chinese, English, Hindi, Spanish, Russian, Arabic, Bengali, Portuguese, Malay-Indonesian, French, Japanese, German, and Urdu.
There are roughly 6,500 spoken languages in the world today. However, about 2,000 of those languages have fewer than 1,000 speakers. The most widely spoken language in the world is Mandarin Chinese. There are 885,000,000 people in China that speak that language.
There are only two sequences of four consecutive letters that can be found in the English language: "rstu" and "mnop." Examples of each are understudy and gynophobia.
There are only 4 words in the English language which end in "duos": tremendous, horrendous, stupendous, and hazardous.
There are at least two words in the English language that use all of the vowels, in the correct order, and end in the letter Y: abstemiously & facetiously.
There are 41,806 different spoken languages in the world today.
The word "queue" is the only word in the English language that is still pronounced the same way when the last four letters are removed.
The word "honcho" comes from a Japanese word meaning "squad leader" and first came into usage in the English language during the American occupation of Japan following World War II.
Out of all the eight letter words in the English language, only one has only one vowel in it: "strength"
Only 3 words in the English language end in "ceed": "proceed," "exceed," and "succeed."
On June 26th, 1945, the charter of the United Nations was signed by 50 countries in San Francisco. (The text of the charter was in five languages: Chinese, English, French, Russian and Spanish.)
Of all the words in the English language, the word "set" has the most definitions.
Of all the languages in the world, English has the largest vocabulary about 800,000 words.
No word in the English language rhymes with month, orange, silver, or purple.
No language has more synonyms than English.
Latin is a dead language.
In Vulcan, Alberta Canada, the tourist welcome sign is written in both English and Klingon (alien language from “Star Trek”).
French was the official language of England for over 600 years.
Don Quixote, by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, has been translated into more languages than any book outside of the Bible.
According to the Guinness Book of World Records, the Finnish word SAIPPUAKIVIKAUPPIAS a soapstone seller is the longest known palindrome in any language.
"Underground" is the only word in the English language that begins and ends with the letters "und."
"The sixth sick sheik's sixth sheep's sick" is said to be the toughest tongue twister in English.
"Four" is the only number whose number of letters in the name equals the number.
"Forty" is the only number which has its letters in alphabetical order. "One" is the only number with its letters in reverse alphabetical order.
"Rhythms" is the longest English word without the normal vowels, a, e, i, o, or u.
Many languages in Africa include a “click” sound that is pronounced at the same time as other sounds. You must learn these languages in childhood to do it properly.
More than 1,000 different languages are spoken on the continent of Africa.
There is no word that rhymes with purple.
The most common letters in English are
R S T L N E.
Pinocchio is Italian for "pine head."
There is no word that rhymes with orange.
It has been estimated that the number of actively spoken languages in the world today is about 6,000.
The language of a society changes slowly but steadily with the result that an educated person will not be able to read or understand words in his language written 500 years ago.
No word in the English language rhymes with"month".
"Go." is the shortest complete sentence in the English language.
Of all the words in the English language, the word ' set ' has the most definitions!
The language in which a government conducts business is the official language of that country.
Somalia is the only African country in which the entire population speaks the same language, Somali.
All pilots on international flights identify themselves in English.
The most difficult language to learn is Basque, which is spoken in northwestern Spain and southwestern France.
There are more than 2,700 languages in the world. In addition, there are more than 7,000 dialects

All Alone

I admit I'm a shallow human-being
I only answered your call, to see how far it could go
every night I put on a smile, I changed inside
yet, you knew me through all the plastic
you knew I was afraid, of falling for you
you knew I put on this show, to hide from anything true
I pretend, and pretend I am someone else
through all the fake smiles, and friends that have come and gone
you stayed for awhile
but not for long
you showed me love, then you just left
I was a feather in the breeze, caught in a whirlwind
now I'm lost in my head
lost in my dreams
sitting in my room, writing my feelings
I can't explain them, they just come
I can't define in any world
what you have done
you look at me sometimes
we both know
the love we once shared
is too much to ignore
I have my friends, I have enough
but all I really need is your sweet love
I can't eat, I can only think
my chest is caving in, and I can't sleep
I cry everytime I hear your romantic voice in my head
I die everytime I remember the night you left me alone
all alone in my bed.

My Broken Heart

I told myself that God had forgotten me...
After a lifetime of pain and nights filled with loneliness
He had no one for me to love
Just move on, it will be ok.
And then I met you.


I knew it was all wrong,
But I looked into your beautiful eyes... and I let you in...
Into my heart, into my family, into my home.
You gave me hope when I had none.
A second chance.
You took my hand and let me think about
A life with a man who would love me and my children...


Fantasy... or foolishness?


It is so rare to find someone to connect with,
Someone to open up your heart to
When it finally, if ever, comes along, it should be cherished and prized.
Love so sweet that the night is not long enough for all the kisses to be shared.
I always said that after a lifetime of looking
I would know him as soon as I met him.
I would know he was the one.
Hold on tight and don’t him let go.


But then,
You learned you were not free...
To love, to share, to plan, to care.
With each day you pulled farther away.
Your heart is now hard and filled with pain.
You shut me out, pushed me away.


WAIT! Come back! Please don’t leave me...
Hold me, kiss me, tell me it will be ok, what about the dreams we talked about?
The love we shared? The love still to be had and made?
Please don’t go... please.


This pain is just too much to bear. My heart aches for you.
I’m begging, pleading for just a small amount of your time.
To connect with you once more.
When did I become this way? Why did I become this way?
Surely being alone is less painful than the humiliation of
crying for a man who doesn’t want me.


Why God why? Haven’t I cried enough in my lifetime?
What transgression am I paying for?
How could you be so cruel?
I survived my dark night.

~

Today is a new day. Springtime.
The newness of the season.
New beginnings.
Just move on. It will be ok.


Perhaps someday he will see that maybe I was the one that God sent to him.
The woman for him to love, to cherish, to give him hope, to hold his hand.
The woman to give him a home with laughing children.
The woman who would never hurt him like the others before
Whose heart has known pain, and would never hurt this man she loves.


But life is all about choices.


Let him go... Let him go... and cry for what could have been.
Let him go... Let him go... and cry for what will never be.
The nights of passion, beautiful brown-eyed children, a life filled with love.
Let him go.
Let him go.
And be glad, not sad, for the short time we loved each other.


Let
him
go.

Boyfriend

I know a boy unlike any other
he is sweet, kind, and really fine
I sit here and see his face
no matter what I love his face
I worship the ground he walks on
he told me that he loved me
and that he always would
just when I started to believe him
his attitude changed to way too good
I found him with my best friend
doing more than friendly things
but I knew in my heart that I still loved him
and I asked him back out again
no matter what he does
no matter what he says
I'll always love him
now I whish that he was mine
no matter what I do
no matter how hard I try
he'll never be mine in time
he'll never be my valentine
he's waiting for the perfect time then his deed be done
then I'll be gone with someone new and he'll be lost in love
he'll be with someone else
until he gets hurt and then
he'll come running back to me
and want to go out again
and then no matter what I'll take him in
I'll hug him and hold him
until he does it all over again
well this is it
it's the last time
I won't take him back even if he is fine
now I know he's using me
I'm just a sick pawn in his game
I'll never fall in love with him again
I never wanna hear his name
he said he loved me then took it back
he cheated on me and treated me like trash
he played carefully and tried not to get caught
but he alwas did and now it's all his fault
it's all his fault he won't get me back
he'll never hold me tight in his arms
he'll never kiss the lips he said were soft
and he'll never see my face again
I hope he dies in lots of pain
the pain he put me through
I hope it's one of suffering
all the way through and through
he hurt me once
he hurt me twice
but now I know the truth
he just used me and abused me
he didn't care if he hurt me
I'm just another hoe to him
he left me lying defensless
he broke open all my wounds
he took away my heart and soul
and left with no groom
So now it's time to say my goodbyes
so my deed is done
Goodbye you sorry son of a bitch
now I'm gonna have some fun.

Death Of Death

Death died this morning. I’m not exactly sure why it happened; it happened so quickly, but staring into the empty hole in the ground with his black robes folded up neatly inside, there was no denying it. Somewhere along the way he lost the battle and surrendered to the one-track crusaders waving their bold banners heralding “life, life, life!” up to the heavens.
We all had our theories about how it happened. I thought it might have had something to do with the changing times, but Grandma insisted that he went down with religion. Uncle Albert, who had lived through the war, and watched his buddies be killed first hand as he took cover in a freezing foxhole of mud, was convinced that it was those ‘damn commie bastards’ who had killed him.
We treated death like the taxman, whenever he paid us a visit; a cup of warm lemon tea in the parlour room, artificial smiles, and a let him take whatever he likes so maybe he’ll leave sooner frame of mind. We always managed to get through it somehow.
Over the years, death became a well-worn presence in our house. Out of the deaths I remember, I lost three gold fish, my childhood dog, Aunt Biddy, and worst of all one night, after struggling for years of sickness, my mother succumbed to death at last.
The night mom died was death’s longest visit ever. We all waited with apprehension to see what would happen, but Grandma who always the tough one, took up the initiative. Without a sound, she drew the papers across the table towards her and signed the necessary paperwork for death to take her daughter away. I never even saw her cry – the deep cut lines in her cheeks stayed as dry as our riverbeds did last summer when there had been a 4-month drought.
I watched all of this from a distance, hanging out of the wooden stairway rails like they were my own personal prison, and making faces at death when I was sure he wasn’t looking. Somehow though, I got the feeling he still saw me, even with his back turned away from me.
One morning, after I found death had come in the night to make another one of my gold fish float upside-down in its green scum fish bowl, my anger towards death reached its peak.
I announced my indignation to about it to my Grandmother, who I was sure, would agree with me, having lost so many family members over the years. But surprisingly she looked up from her book, and sighing, steered me over to the laundry room to explain, as though the many soft folds and layers of fabric and pants would soften the impact of what I was about to hear.
“If anybody ever tells you that death should be done in,” she said, “You just ignore them, and don’t pay them any attention. Death is a necessary burden. And anyone who thinks otherwise is a screwball.”
But the screwballs came to us that summer one day in mid-July, lined up on our front porch in robes of white.
“Would you like to join our petition,” the people of the neighbourhood asked importantly, “Against death?”
They persisted diligently, even after Grandma gave them a polite “no” on our behalf (I was half-thinking about running off and joining them, personally) until finally she lost her temper and ran them off like we did the stray dogs in our yard that would sometimes come sniffing around begging for scraps.
“You will regret this,” one of them said as they left, and we would soon find out the full fury of their words.
At the store, Grandma was banned from buying anything after someone accused her bald-faced of stealing tomatoes, so that for a few months, we had to go to the grocer that was four blocks farther from our house. At school everyone did their best to make my life miserable, including the teachers. The kids at recess would call me names like “death lover” and “dead boy,” but I stood up to them as well as any dirt-faced boy should be proud of, not letting anyone see me cry. Insults were thrown as heavy artillery across the battle line, but there were no bricks through our windows (thank god,) as the movement against death mounted.
After a year of two of this had passed, we got our worst shock ever one morning as Grandma went to put out the cat and got a bitter surprise instead. Her scream shattered the crystal off the morning grass, and I came running just as fast as I could when I heard it, abandoning the last soggy bits of my Lucky Charms breakfast at the bottom of my bowl. Well it didn’t take long for me to figure out what she was screaming about, but it took me longer to figure out what it meant.
Up in the high realms of the proud Oak in our back yard hung death, still except for the stray breeze fluttering his robes every now and then. I wasn’t a racist, but there was something reminiscent of the old south in the way that death hung from our tree like a misshapen fruit, hemp-stem bunching the robes around the base of his neck. It made me wonder what kind of a person would do this kind of thing.
Grandmother called up the rest of the family, unsure what to do next, and they all reckoned she was off her rocker until they came to see the sin for themselves. Uncle Albert cut death down as gently as he could, sawing off the rope with the Swiss army knife that never left him.
After a small discussion it was decided that death should be given a proper Christian burial, because really, what else was there to do?
Death died this morning. Uncle Albert reckons it was those damn commie bastards who committed the crime, Grandma says that it’s got to do with religion, but I have my own theories. But one thing was for sure, as we stood over the hole of fresh dirt, hands clasped, lacking for even awkward words to say. Death was dead; there was no denying that, and dark times were sure to be coming over the years just ahead.

In Her Embrace

To say that the world we lived in was unfair would be putting things mildly. In this world you were one of two things: a stepping stool to be quite literally walked over, or the one doing the walking. Looking around the barely lit room at my sorry-looking bunch of friends set things in stone. We were the equivalent of sentient ants, and I hated it. I looked out through a hole in the room, seeing us being taken into some kind of building. My stomach churned at the thought of our futures.
Murmurs were quietly flung around the dark interior of the moving room. Some of us were merely terrified of what would become us, others talked of how they would fight back tooth and claw against the behemoths. I audibly laughed at that one, drawing the attention of the room for but a moment before they were back to murmurs and mumbles. It was fine and well to talk of fighting, but we weren’t in the presence of the giantesses. They were massive creatures that could stomp the life out of you in a single step, or crush you between gargantuan hands. Based on my own few encounters with the titanesses, they seemed to look down at us, viewing us as playthings and entertainment.
Suddenly the room lurched and sent everyone inside to the floor. The floor itself was odd in that it didn’t feel entirely solid. It felt almost like the boxes that the giant women ate food from. Cardboard I think they call it. I staggered to my feet when suddenly a giant blade tore in from the ceiling, slicing down the length of it and then pulling out. Needless to say it had everyone’s full attention, freezing us in fear. Our room was then flooded in light: the ceiling torn open in two distinct pieces. A face came into view, towering above us and visually investigating our tiny selves while a satisfied smirk formed across its bright pink lips.
The room was once again picked up, shaking us, its occupants, quite violently. We soon found our world shifted upside down as the room was flipped, and we were dumped into a new place. I expected myself to shatter on impact with the floor, but a leafy covering absorbed the kinetic energy from the fall. Looking around this new locale, it appeared as if there weren’t any walls at all. It puzzled me greatly. I tepidly approached the edge of the leafy floor, reaching out a nervous hand to feel some kind of invisible wall, preventing my escape.
Cackling sounded on high, “It’s called glass. Wonderful stuff.” I spun around to find our giant captor eying us, her smirk now grown into a humungous smile. “You should sell very well,” said the giantess, nodding to herself before standing to her full, daunting height and walking off.
So there it was. We were in some kind of slave market for these women, destined to be sold off to whoever paid the most. I knew I couldn’t fight the behemoths, but I could certainly attempt an escape. I recalled that we were dropped in, meaning that this so called glass wasn’t on the ceiling. Perhaps these glass walls could be scaled, so that I could hop over the top and flee from this terrible place. I felt ahead of me for any kind of handhold, but alas, the glass was perfectly smooth, and when I attempted climbing I merely slid down to the ground at my feet. I sighed, sitting down and looking around my abode. Across the room was a bowl, where some of my fellow captives ate hungrily from. Next to that was a high tower, which could be seen through like the glass, containing water. At least the self-named goddesses didn’t plan on starving us. At the sight of life’s basic necessities my stomach called out with a groan, signaling to me that it was time to eat. I didn’t like the idea of having to accept the giantesses’ food one bit, but at the same time I felt that if I was going to be trapped in here I might as well be comfortable.
I walked over to the giant bowl, peering over the edge into it. It was filled with brown pellets, the sight of which made me sick. Never the less, my stomach demanded food, and I would provide it with some. I picked up one of the pellets and smelt it; it gave off no scent whatsoever. Satisfied, I popped it into my mouth and chewed, finding it to be quite dry and crunchy. As for the taste itself I wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. It was artificial for sure, but as to what it was supposed to be impersonating I had no idea. It wasn’t vile, but it certainly wasn’t delicious. I ate a few more until my stomach was happy, followed by me slinking over to an unoccupied corner and curling up. The only thing I could do at this point was lie in wait for someone to purchase me. Some of the others in the cage where busy talking, but at present I wasn’t feeling very sociable. Why take the time to make new friends if we were just going to be separated? Feeling heavy, I finally snuck off to sleep.

The next couple of days passed slowly: everyday several women would visit our cage, and a few more of us would be taken away. At first it really tore me up inside: the giant hand coming down, snagging the person up as they screamed and ran in terror. But now that I’ve seen it happen so much, I’ve grown accustomed to it. I suppose the tiny grain of hope inside had starved and died. At this point there were just a few of us left roaming around the expanse of the cage. I wasn’t really paying attention anymore; my instinct to be on the lookout for giants had been locked away as it had no purpose. I was in this cage, and the giantesses were going to grab me whether I liked it or not.
I turned to gaze out the window the cage was by, as I frequently did, and gave a yelp of surprise, instead seeing a giant pair of sky blue eyes studying me. Having regained my composure, I stared back at the face. Her face didn’t have the coldness of the other women’s, and there even appeared to be a faint smile across her deep red lips. Her skin was flawless: a healthy tan free of freckles or acne. Slightly curly locks of dark blond hair hung in front of her face, with the rest of her gorgeous mane flowing down her back. As I looked her smile grew wider, before she finally spoke.
“Hey in there.” She said softly, voice bursting with hidden excitement, tapping the glass with a pink painted finger nail. I smirked, waving back at her. “You’re not afraid of me like your little friends are.” She said, giggling and wiggling her nose. I looked back over my shoulder at the other men in the cage cowering in fear at the back wall. I turned my attention back to the girl, who was grinning widely. “I want you.” She stated, reaching a hand in for me.
Tilting my head up and watching her giant hand descend for me was one of the most terrifying things I’d ever witnessed, but I held my ground. This seemed to impress the giantess even more, that I wouldn’t try to run from her manicured death dealer. Slender, soft fingers wrapped around my bare waist. Her grip was gentle yet firm, and I began to rise up out of the cage, presumably to a new life as a domesticated animal. She held me up to her face, giving me a chance to see her big beautiful eyes up close.
“Adorable.” She whispered, pressing me to her soft, cushion-like lips. If I were bigger, that would have been a kiss. With that out of the way she tucked me into the crook of her arm: fishing a wallet out of her purse required the use of both hands. I noticed that her body had a bit of an odor to it; she was in a tank top, leaving her arms exposed completely. I assumed that the temperature outside was very hot, especially considering the dampness to her armpit region. There was a feminine quality to the smell, though it still had a foul side as well. Although it overpowered my tiny nostrils, to women her size it was probably barely noticeable.
The woman from before, our initial capturer, worked the counter, taking the new giantess’s money and producing a collar. “What do you want to name him? I need to print the tag.” She said, turning on a metal monstrosity that was most likely the tag labeling device.
“I already have a name.” I said, waving to get the slave selling owner’s attention. Both women looked at me, stunned. I guess they weren’t use to a tiny person talking as if we were on an equal level.
The store owner shook her head dismissively, “Better punish him, or he’ll start thinking backtalk is alright,” She advised, getting a tag ready. She asked again, “What do you want to name him?”
My soon to be mistress gave me a look that I couldn’t decipher, before planting a new grain of hope inside of me, “What’s your name?” She asked gently, plucking me from her sweaty underarm and holding me in front of her majestic face.
How odd that now I was the one smiling, “Matthew.” I said, turning and giving the person selling me a smug look of victory. The anger in her eyes was apparent; if she had the chance she would have crushed me.
My owner grinned, “His name is Matthew.” I realized just then how pretty her smile truly was; perhaps she was different from the other giantesses. The metal machine whirred, punching my name into the tag. The tag and collar were then passed into the friendly giantess’s hands, “Hold still.” She instructed me, holding me up to her face. I obviously wasn’t going anywhere being held this high up. Her other hand came into view, the collar opened and headed for my neck. I felt humiliated at having to wear it, but I didn’t have a choice. There was a click, and the collar was attached, the metal tag hanging in the front; it was cold against my chest.
“Do you want a box to bring him home in?” The shopkeeper asked curtly, obviously ready for me to be out of her hair. The gentle giantess looked down at me, thinking. I pleaded with my eyes, praying she wouldn’t put me into another box. It was dark, uncomfortable, and usually resulted in me getting flung around.
“Nah, I’ll just carry him, thanks. Have a nice day.” She said, smiling politely and turning to leave the store, me in one hand while her purse hung over her bare shoulder. I felt a tremendous amount of relief to finally be leaving that melancholy place, and better still, I was leaving out of a box. It felt heavenly when she opened the door of the store. I saw the sun for the first time in what felt like years, and a cool breeze blew across my face.
“So, what am I supposed to call you, gentle giantess?” I asked sweetly, wanting to stay on her good side, seeing as she was in charge of my fate.
The nameless giantess giggled, stroking my head with a finger, “My name is Adalia, but I’d prefer it if you called me mistress.” Adalia approached a new kind of box, this one on four black wheels with glass all over. Mistress opened a door on the front left side, sitting down in a black leather chair, her breasts being pressed up against a wheel of some kind. Suddenly the seat reclined a bit, giving her relief based on the sigh she made. She set her purse in the seat next to her, grabbing the door and closing it quite loudly. “Where to put you?” She wondered aloud, furrowing her brow a bit and gazing at me. “I think I’ll give you a reward, for being such a polite little pet.” She winked at me, causing me to blush out of reflex. Adalia adjusted her tank top, giving her chest room to poke out of the top, emphasizing her ample bosom. Using her other hand to increase the gap between her breasts, she lowered me down and let me drop a short distance so I could land safely between them. My face was alit by red blushing at this point, and it only got worse when she pulled her hand out of her cleavage and let the giant flesh orbs move back into place, gently squeezing me between them. Although they weighed a massive amount, they were soft enough to hold me firmly yet comfortably in place. “Comfy, pet?” Adalia asked, giggling as she inserted a key into the wheel, causing the box on wheels to roar into life.
I nodded after a moment, which I used to compose myself, “Yes mistress; thank you!” I laid back against the soft flesh and closed my eyes, the warmth between the breasts warming me up like a blanket and drawing me into a restful state.
Adalia spoke after glancing down and seeing me beginning to nap, “You might as well sleep, it’s a long drive home. I came out here special, just to get you.” She said, reaching down and patting my head with a finger tip.
I followed her advice right away, rolling over and resting my head against her, quickly falling into a slumber. My dreams fluctuated between being nightmares and paradise; one moment I’m being stomped on, the next I’m sitting in the grass on a hillside, watching the sunset.

“Hey, wake up.” I heard softly, being repeated. I struggled awake, opening my eyes with difficulty: obviously I had enjoyed my sleeping place. I looked around, now inside what must have been her house, and to be more specific, her bedroom. Her bed occupied the far corner, pink sheets adorning it with an array of pillows to lie on. A box with glass sat on the opposite wall, facing the bed. It was wide and flat, with buttons the size of my head on it. A desk that would be relatively large to mistress was next to the bed, with another box similar to the one across from her sleeping area. There was also a board of some sort, with little buttons that had letters, and some kind of wired device, sitting on a pad. I also noticed, much to my horror, a metal cage on the desk. The bars were silver, with a water jug on the inside as well as a bowl, and a big wheel, presumably for exercise. “Welcome home, Matt. This is my room, and as you can see, over there is yours.” She pulled me from her breasts and into her hand, walking across the room and sitting on the edge of her bed, holding me up to the cage.
“Do I have to be put in there?” I asked, frightened of it, “I promise not to run away; it’s not like I can really go anywhere. I really don’t like the idea of the cage, mistress.” I pleaded, hugging her thumb as I needed something to hold, to calm myself.
Mistress sighed, “I know you don’t like it, but I can’t have you running around my house either. Even if I knew you weren’t going to run away, there’s the possibility of you hurting yourself, or being accidently stepped on.” She gave me a sympathetic smile, “Look, I’ll only put you there for bed time, alright? Otherwise you’ll be on my person.”
That took quite the load off of my shoulders! My face must have shown it too, because Adalia’s smile grew into a grin. “Mistress, what are those boxes?” I asked, pointing at the one across the room and then the one atop the desk.
“Ah, that one, across from my bed is called a television, TV for short. This other one is called a computer monitor, or flat screen. Here.” She laid back in the bed and grabbed some kind of small device, pushing a button and causing this strange ‘TV’ to burst with colors, while giantesses yelled quite loudly about something called ‘McDonald’s’ and how delicious it was.
“Do you live with them?” I queried, wondering if I would have to obey other mistresses.
Adalia gave me a confused look, “Live with them…? Oh!” She must have had an epiphany of sorts. “You don’t get it- they’re a recording…like, a moving picture. They can’t see you.” She said, giggling at my apparent stupidity.
“Oh…” I mumbled, blushing and feeling embarrassed at my lack of knowledge. “So this flat screen is like a miniature television?” I asked, trying to recover what little dignity I had left.
“Sort of yeah. Think of it more as a limitless book though. There are more moving pictures on it, as well as music and information for just about anything.” I was surprised that Adalia was being so receptive to my questions. Back at the pet store any attempts to ask the shopkeeper questions resulted in her shaking the cage.
My perch on Adalia’s hand began to quake, while a growling noise erupted from within her. “Hungry, mistress?” I quipped, while a huge blush spread across her face.
“I guess so, yeah. Come on, you can try some cooked food for once.” At the mention of cooked food my own stomach roared; apparently I was hungry too. “I guess the pet pellets don’t satisfy?” She asked, walking for the kitchen with me once again in her gentle fist.
I shook my head, resting my arms on the knuckle of her thumb, “Not really. They’re dry and rather plain. You can eat and eat them and never feel full.” I stated, resting my head on my arms.
“Guess I’m glad I didn’t buy a bag then.” She chuckled, setting me down on the kitchen counter, now opening a large white box that oozed freezing air. “By the way, this is called a fridge. It keeps food cold so it doesn’t expire and go stale.” The technology that these women had was astounding; if they’d only share it with us then we wouldn’t have to sneak around and steal things to eat. It almost seems as if the giantesses had created the tension between themselves and us by their greed. I wasn’t going to say this to Adalia of course.
Adalia pulled a circular package from the fridge, opening it with a fingernail. “Is that a…um…pizza? Some of my cage-mates had told me about how good they were.” I said, watching her insert it into what I suspected to be the so-called oven.
Adalia nodded, “Yup. And you’re friends were right: pizzas are extra yummy.” She said, coming over to my place at the counter and looking down at me. Tilting my head to match her gaze, I found it difficult to see her face past her bosom. “It must be so weird to be as small as you.” She said, climbing onto the counter and sitting next to me. For the first time since we’d met I got a chance to see her lower half. She wore a dark blue skirt, though at the moment it was riding a little high, giving sight to her golden thighs. Moving lower, her calves were covered with pulled up socks, while her feet were shoeless. “Checking me out pet?” Adalia cooed, startling me out of my trance and causing me to shoot my gaze up.
“Well, err, you’re just…very pretty.” I said finally, choosing to just be honest with mistress. Adalia’s hand came down behind me, scooping me up onto the palm and bringing me to her face.
She had a kind, compassionate look, “Aw, thanks Matt. I think we’ll come to be great friends.” She said, again pressing me against those beautiful lips of hers. And much to her surprise, as well as my own, I kissed back, hugging into her puckered lips while placing my own on hers. Mistress pulled her hand away, ending the kiss a few moments later. “Thanks…it means a lot that you’re so accepting of me. Men seem to hate us giantesses…” A faint smile formed, “I guess I got lucky with you.”
The pizza soon finished cooking, as noted by the loud buzzer. Adalia was kind enough to turn it off quickly and end the abuse on my ears. “Be careful; it’s hot,” She warned, setting the pizza and me on the dining room table. Adalia took a piece and sat it on her plate, tearing off the tip of the pizza and offering it to me. “Just tell me if you want more.”
I put the pizza in my mouth tentatively, never having food that was hot and fresh before. My eyes went wide as an explosion of flavor flew across my tongue. “Can I have this all the time mistress? It’s so good! Like nothing I’ve ever had before! It’s not even cold!” I exclaimed, astounded.
Adalia began to laugh, having to stop eating to prevent choking. “We can have something different each night then, so you can start to find out what giantess foods you like and don’t like.” I nodded, beginning to stealthily scoot closer to her on the table, until I was seated right under her chest. Adalia leaned over and looked at me with a smirk, before sitting back up. I wondered what that could have been about, until she leaned down, resting her heavy breasts on my miniscule body. She wasn’t letting them crush me of course, rather just giving me a pleasant place under them.
I sighed comfortably, closing my eyes once again. “Thanks, mistress…” I said quietly, reaching up and patting the breasts before relaxing while she finished eating.

About ten minutes later she was finally done, and had put her plate in the sink. She turned a knob, and water came out of a long pipe called the faucet. It was simply fascinating to watch; it was a miniature waterfall! “You giantesses have so much technology…” I mumbled, astounded.
Adalia grinned, setting me on her shoulder, “Do you mind sitting on my shoulder, or would you prefer being carried?” She asked softly, since I was now right next to her mouth.
“I’m fine here as long as you don’t start running or making fast movements.” I took some locks of her golden-brown mane and wrapped them about my torso, acting as a nice little safety tether.
Adalia began to walk towards her room, “Time to hit the sack…” She said softly, plucking me off her shoulder and opening the cage, setting me inside gently. I laid back in the bedding material as she went to the dresser to change into a night gown. “Look at you, politely looking away! You’re really one of a kind, you know that?” She said softly, laying in her bed and gazing at me fondly. I sat up to look at her, giving a faint smile. Adalia was obviously a kinder owner than the other girls, but the cage still made me immensely uncomfortable. “Good night, Matt.” She whispered, turning off the light and casting me into darkness.
I laid back down, trying to get to sleep as best I could, but no matter how I lay sleep would not seek me out. Finally Adalia spoke again, “Could you stop moving please?” She asked sweetly, though there was obvious frustration behind her voice. Perhaps she couldn’t get to sleep either? The most likely reason of course was the crunching of bedding under my shifting form.
“Sorry mistress…I’m having trouble getting to sleep.” Suddenly the lamp was turned back on and Adalia had gotten out of bed, now standing before the cage. I must say I was a bit frightened: what if I had upset her?
“Come here, you…” she murmured, opening the cage and picking me by my underarms. “I can’t sleep either. How bout we watch a movie?” I smiled and nodded eagerly. Adalia settled back into bed, now cuddling me close as she picked up the television remote. She moved through several menus until reaching a movie called ‘Attack of the 50ft Woman.’ “This movie has great special effects,” She explained as we watched, “Look at how they make the men look normal sized! And then…” The woman on screen began to grow, until she was bigger than the men and women both! “Look at how they even make the women look small! And this is a fairly old movie too.” She said, petting down my back as the film went on.
That’s how I spent my first night with Adalia, before succumbing to sleep and passing out halfway through the movie, which she thought was absolutely adorable.

Letter To Santa

Dear Santa:



Look, I know you’re busy, and that’s cool. I’m Johnny, that’s my name. Ya see, I been runnin’ into a lot of problems lately, but I’m straight, dude, I’m cool. I know how it works, you and the god damn list. Excuse my forwardness on the situation, but I ain’t got that much time, shit to do, just like you, my man.

Yo, I wanna thank you, for doin’ your job so well. I mean there’s fat guys everywhere, old ones too. But you know how to handle shit, yea. I’m a tell you ‘bout this little incident you may have heard of, but ya know, it’s cool, they just prob’ly didn’t explain it straight as I will.

So I was in the old school-yo the other day and I came into class a little late. Alright, so it was pretty god damn late, what do ya want from me? I’m a kid…fuck. Excuse my language, Santa. So I walk in to class late and this teacher of mine, that’s what he calls himself anyway, he says, “Johnny, you’re late again young man. I don’t think you respect me.”

I lowered my shades and I says, “Look, teach’, I was doin a pretty girl a favor.” Now, I said this very sincerely, I mean it was true after all. Fuckin’ teach’ says, “Johnny, you’re interrupting class. Now sit down and open your Math book.” I didn’t sit down, Santa, I just stood there, ya know, and I says, “pally…” I rubbed my chin thoughtfully cause, ya know, I’m a deep thinker. I says, “I ain’t got the time for class today. Ah, maybe you can teach these kids somethin’, but I’m a notch above, ya see. Anyway, teach’, I’m just here to see Cindy.” Yea and then Cindy blushed, covering her face with her hands; she’s real cute, yo. I says, “Cin-deeeee! I’ll catch ya after, babe.” I put a smoke in my mouth and tilted my shades back up. I says, “Johnny’s gotta jet, pallies. Take it easy, I know I will.” And I left.

Yea, so the principal walks up to me in the school hall and she says, “Johnny, you cannot smoke, you’re too young. Why aren’t you in class, young man?” I lifted my hands in that upward notion, ya know – show her, yea and so what. I says, “I’m a little busy, teach’.” I started walking away and this lady, she’s nuts man, she grabbed my shoulder, spun me around, she says, “I’m calling your parents, Johnny. You’re coming with me ‘Mister I’m Too-Cool-for-School’.” When she grabbed me, she knocked my shades off, bro. They broke on the floor, popped out the frame. I’m like, what the fuck, yo. That was my favorite shades man, that was me. I got the sun tryin’ a blind out my eyes otherwise. I look like everybody else without ‘em. I’m like a fuckin’ kid in there without any god damn brains. So my mouth drops open and I look at this old bag, I says, “you fuckin’ bitch. You have no fuckin’ clue what you’ve just done.”

So her eyes get all big, I don’t know why, guess she’s shocked to shit or somethin’, and she grabs my arm, cocks it to the side like I’m a fuckin’ child. “Get ya fuckin’ hands off me,” I says. Now, I don’t say that often to any lady friend of mine, so this is deep shit right here. Fuckin’ teach’ starts yelling, “security, security!” And that’s when I get pissed off. You know I’m a cool guy, everyone knows I am, but ya know, I can only keep composure for so long. I yanked my fuckin’ arm back and I popped my switch blade from my back pocket, it’s always there. And I was angry man, I says, “you bitch, you fuckin’ bitch.” I was so angry that I was spittin’ drool, man, I never do that, that ain’t cool, that’s wild shit right there. I slashed her belly, man oh man. Damn blood just sprayed out like some kinda sprinkler outta hell, ya know. But this wasn’t it; I didn’t feel that I had really evened it all out.

I’m a cool fuckin’ guy, I’m fuckin’ Johnny. Nobody and I mean nobody, fucks with me. Not some fuckin’ teach’, not some fuckin’ kiddy-yo, not the god damn old man, nobody. Johnny knows best, Johnny takes care of Johnny. My eyes were real cold, ya know, I couldn’t loosen up into my usual coolness. Nah man, my eyes were sharp as my switch that I sharpen twice a day. Twice a day-yo, morning and eve’ I sit there, ya know, flippin’ those pages of Playboy and the like, sharpening that blade, man. Gotta keep it sharp, or what good is it, ya know.

So this bitch had really unsettled me, man. I kept stabbin’ her after that first slash and she’s fuckin’ bleeding, bro. It was like fuckin’ springin’ a bag of water. Everytime I stabbed her, blood was shootin’ out, man. I mean, some kids would be real ‘fraid of the gore, the horror, and all, but not me man. Johhny ain’t no ‘fraidy cat. Johnny is one cool motherfuckin’ cat. Johnny don’t take no shit. So she’s ya know, full of holes and just bleedin’ like it’s goin’ outta style or somethin’ and I was still pissed, man. I went to her neck and I told her to her face, yea. I says, “do you understand me, you don’t touch me, you don’t bother me, you don’t fuckin’ talk to my girlies. Nothin’!” I told her straight, dude, told her real fuckin’ straight. That lady there, man, she knows. She knows not to fuck with Johnny. Ain’t no one gonna fuck with Johnny after that.

So here I am though. You’re a cool guy, I’m a cool guy. Ya know, I know your job is tough and shit. You’re fuckin’ old Saint Nick, for fuck sake. Sorry ‘bout my language-yo. It’s just that I gots this big vocabulary of words and I gotta throw d’em words out, man. Gotta educate this world with my shit, yea. People tell me I’m smart, all the time, man. They says, “Johnny, you’re goin places.” And I says, I tell ‘em, “That’s right-yo,” cause it is, yea.

So after this little incident with the head teach’, they took me to this place I hadn’t seen before. Ya know, I get around, see the sites and shit, but I hadn’t seen this place ‘fore. They tells me, they says, “Johnny, what you did is wrong. You know this, you might be 10 years old, but you know the difference between…” I cut ‘em off there, I says, “Pal, you don’t gotta tell me ‘bout no morals and shit, I’m fuckin’ Johnny, I know what I do, man,” I told ‘em that-yo.

Yea, so I’m at this new place and they kinda lock the door for me, I mean it’s nice, but I could do that myself. I got this yard, ya know. I got sunlight comin’ down, so that’s cool. It’s about half a court’s size. And they give me these pills-yo. They says, “Johnny this’ll make you even cooler.” And, ya know, fuck yea I’m down, I take them pills and throw em down that hatch, man, swallow that shit nice and good-yo. But I’m writin’ you in case you got the wrong side of this story ‘a mine, ya see. I’m a cool guy-yo, you keep me on that cool list and we’ll chill, yea. You and I’s can grab some smokes, grab some milk, and hit that shit up. We be good pals, Santa. Visit any time, my man.



With Respect, Johnny

Depression

I've heard so many people tell those who suffer depression to just 'cheer up.' I wonder if they can really believe that it’s that simple.
Depression isn't just sadness. It is emptiness, it is misery. It is pain and nothingness at once. When you are truly depressed you lack the ability or will to cheer yourself up. No one just ‘has depression.’ You suffer from it. This is depression:
You will wake at 5, 6, maybe 7am, feeling as though you had only just fallen asleep. It’s likely you did. If you don't have to be somewhere, you could lie in bed for another 3 hours...too tired, too miserable and pathetic to crawl out of you bed. Or maybe you will sleep until 1pm, because it’s so much easier to sleep through most of the day than actually live it, and you’re so unbelievably tired anyway. You will push through the day, knowing that every hour will be a struggle and not knowing how you will feel tomorrow. People will ask what is wrong, and you will simply smile and say 'nothing, I'm just tired.' Yes you are tired. You are so tired of drifting through every day, with no will to actually live. But you simply smile, and they'll believe you. It’s so much easier to lie anyway, and most of the time you can push away the guilt. Sometimes you might find a way out, temporary as it may be. You might write or draw or sing. Or you might cut, burn, binge, purge, drink, starve, scratch, pull, overdose...anything to take your mind away from the utter misery it seems to be so obsessed with. What you don't know is that soon these acts will take over your thoughts. You will spend your days not only lost in the haze of depression, but your mind will be so consumed with these thoughts of escaping and self destruction that you think you could explode. You will see a series of lines, and think of the lovely scars you could make, where you will make them. Your mind will be permanently spinning with thoughts of this pain, and different ways you might destroy yourself or, more precisely, this monster inside you. But of course none of this will work. You will still spend your night alone, sitting and staring at nothing, completing mindless tasks as if they have some importance, as if you are really there. Be careful where you let your mind wander. Night time is the darkest time in depression. That's when all the demons come out, when you become weaker. It is when you will hurt yourself simply to make the urges stop for 5 minutes. It is when you will spend hours crying or screaming for no reason other than the agony inside. You will shake and feel as though your whole body will cave in or explode. No one will understand. You do not have hospital beds, drips, bandages or needles to make people worry. To make them realize that this sad little girl is actually sick and needs help. Of course the depression will have destroyed any self esteem you might have had, so you'll be too scared to ask for the help you need. You just go on, hoping someone will notice your slow, meticulous self-destruction. Don’t worry, it won’t always be so bad. Some days you might even feel stable. You might walk tall for one day, feeling a glint of hope that maybe one day things will get better, that things are getting better and you have the strength to fight. Then one small thing will go wrong, and you’ll fall apart all over again. You feel stupid for even considering that things could get better.
Have you ever felt as though your whole body could just crumble any minute? Just crumble and fall apart, like it’s lost anything it had holding it together. That’s what it feel like all the time to be depressed. That raw fragility. It feels as though the smallest disruption in our life, or in your head, or in the world, could send everything spiraling downwards. And it can. The tiniest mistake can cause you to hate yourself more than you could possibly imagine. The smallest crack in your world can make it all seem pointless.
Depression destroys any resources you have. Any strength or courage you kept stored away for emergencies. So if the tiniest little storm hits, you are left to trying to survive the ravages of a cyclone without a life boat. It wears you down and even the smallest crack can seem like an earthquake and every minute is spent waiting for the next shake. And then one day, you will find yourself curled up on your bedroom floor, sobbing, because you can’t find anything to wear. Every little thing is just more proof of how worthless you are.
Eventually, you begin to expect it. You anticipate the bad times, because you know the good times are just fooling you. And they are filled with fear and anxiety over when everything will come crashing down again. You are always waiting for the next breakdown. You’ve become so accustomed to feeling miserable, that happiness is a foreign feeling that you won’t even let yourself experience. You don’t deserve it. So you become numb, which at times, is worse than the full-blown screaming and crying depressive ‘episodes.’ You find yourself begging to hurt again, because any feeling is better than feeling nothing at all.
Depression is one of the cruelest of all illnesses. You see, it’s much easier to fight when you can see an end to it all. When you know that in the end you will either win or lose. But whatever the outcome, the war will be over. The thing about depression is it blurs your perception of the future and makes it near impossible to see that end. You start to think that there’s no such thing as ‘winning’ and why bother fighting if you already know the outcome. It gradually strips you of any hope you previously had. And without hope, it’s difficult to see a future or a reason to fight.

Amung Us

I felt absolutely, positively, like a piece of shit. Trudging through the streets during a torrential downpour, on a gloomy day, in a gloomy city, without my coat and clutching a singular piece of now destroyed paper, informing I’d been laid off. The sole beacon of hope, shining ever so brightly in the distance, was my girlfriend, Keira. Keira, with her bubbling happiness and contagious laughter made ruining a pair of clothes worth it. And just as these thoughts ran through my mind, the clouds parted long enough for a golden ray of sunshine to cast down upon me. I cracked a smile, chuckling as I took the steps to Keira’s front door, the worn bronze knocker awaiting me. I gazed at the damp paper before crumpling it and tossing it into the waste bin on the corner. Returning my full attention to the door, I reached up and grasped the cold damp metal, clanging it against worn wood. What I heard next was pure bliss, as Keira called to inform me she was on her way.
Several moments later I heard the heavy sound of metal on metal as the door was unlocked, and then a swollen creaking as it was cracked to make sure it wasn’t an intruder outside her door. I smiled in at her and raised the bouquet of roses, “For you.” Keira beamed, her beautiful pink lips spread, her pearly whites behind them. The door creaked yet again as it opened fully, and I stepped into the portal to her front hall. I wiped my shoes off on the mat and follow her into the kitchen; her tight, round rump swaying in a ‘it’s seductive, but not on purpose’ manner. Keira turned back with a playful grin, bending over and finding a vase to become the new home of the flowers. Her blue denim jeans were stretched tight across her, showing off her stunning figure, in conjunction with the slightly too small blouse that emphasized her bust. The flowers were then happily sitting in moderately cold water.
When Keira stood I wrapped my arms around her waist and planted my lips up her shoulder and into her soft cheek. She giggled playfully, reaching up her slender hand and ruffling my hair. I ran my own fingers through her long, silky brown locks, feeling increasingly joyful at the warmth we shared. Together, not breaking our embrace, we waddled slightly awkwardly to the couch and flopped down, cuddling together on the plushy pillows.
Now seemed just as well a time as any to inform her of my employment status. “So, baby, I…I got laid off today.” I forced the words out of my larynx, ending with a loud and drawn out sigh- well deserved at that, I might add. I rolled over slightly, so that Keira and I were more or less a twisted web of limbs. I looked into her soft face for the guidance I so desperately needed. Keira could always stay calm, and never seemed to be infected with worry.
Keira slowly cracked a smile, “We’ll get through this. Remember, things always work out. Look, let’s go out and have some fun- my treat.” Keira always knew just the right antidote to whatever unhappiness I had. It wasn’t just that she would pay for the trip out, but she seemed to be able to pinpoint exactly what would brighten my day. And Keira always had the means to do it too- money was of no object to my girlfriend. While her house may not be the wet dream of people who watch Home and Garden, she always had just the right amount of money tucked away for a rainy day- metaphorically or literally.
“Sure, I’d like that. Thanks.” I pecked her rosy lips and untangled, wiping my eyes and putting on my happy, ‘Oh my God my girlfriend is the best’ face. “Hon, you’re the best.” I moved in and planted another kiss, this one big and passionate.
Keira giggled and kissed back. “I know,” She cooed, again, seductively without meaning to. Or, perhaps it was. Either way, her voice was an arousing one. Keira stood up with a cute little yawn, starting to take off her home clothes in a slow, deliberate manner. “Just…let me change…” she sang, obviously signaling me to follow her up the stairs to her bedroom.
The room was small, but exotic. Her large queen sized bed dominated the eye, with its dark lavender covers and pillows, black frilly laces, and see-through curtains of a slightly lighter shade of purple; her private quarters were those of a goddess. And not just to the sense of sight. Laying my fingers on her bed, it was a soft, foreign silk that, as I knew from experience, I could melt into with Keira in the throes of passion. Other than the medium sized plasma screen mounted on the wall, the only other thing in the room of note was Keira’s large, antique oaken dresser. Keira stood before it, backside to me, and grabbed at her big baggy t-shirt, pulling it from her body and revealing that she only had on a pair of tiny pink underpants.
Throwing her heavenly strands of hair over her shoulder, she turned back ever so slightly and winked at me, covering her impressive breasts with an arm. I smirked and shook my head with a laugh, “Such a tease!”
Keira turned so her smooth, nearly naked body was facing me. She had that wry, playful grin on her face that I knew would be followed by something incredibly sexy. Keira raised an eyebrow, turning back around and giving her soft round butt cheek a spank.
I coughed, “Damn…better be careful Keira, getting a bit hot, don’t you think?” I murmured, eyes traveling up and down her body at record speeds.
“Yup, and that’s exactly why I’m going to get dressed. Don’t want to accidently find ourselves with a kid, now do we?” She said, pulling on some tiny, barely-qualifying-as-shorts shorts and giggling. “So, I was thinking we go talk to your boss.”
I groaned, flopping back on the bed, “Why? It’s not his decision if I have a job or not anyways. I know you have that womanly charm, but I think we’ll just be wasting our time, Keira.” I said, sitting back up and cuddling around her bare back, “Thanks for offering though.” I gave her neck a smooch, while running a hand up her taught, fit stomach.
“Well, it would make me feel better if you at least let me try to talk to him…please, for me?” She put her slender, manicured fingers on my chest and kissed my forehead with her soft pink lips. “It never hurts to try.” Keira whispered softly.
I couldn’t resist it; Keira was throwing out all the stops. I finally nodded, detaching and grabbing her lacy Victoria’s Secret bra off the floor. Keira hadn’t always dressed in these types of clothes. Since we’d started dating, I noticed that she’d started to buy things that I found arousing. To say the least, she was the perfect girlfriend. I walked over to her bedroom window and looked out into the bustling streets. “Stopped raining thankfully. I wouldn’t wear your good shoes though; there are ankle deep puddles all over the place.” I informed her, walking back over and picking a small frame off her dresser with our first picture in it. It was at a gaming convention, believe it or not. As a homebrew developer, I had a booth there. I chuckled; that day was the first day Keira had ever played a videogame. She had bought tickets for her previous boyfriend and herself. Sadly, when she arrived she found that he was already there, only with another girl. Funny how things work out.
Suddenly Keira’s arm around my waist awoke me from the nostalgia, “I’m all set.” She said, taking the picture from my hand and setting it back. “Ya know, maybe your getting laid off is a sign to put more attention to your game development.” Keira was always supportive of my creative endeavors and had helped me through several writer’s blocks just by sitting next to me and cuddling. She was probably right.
“Let’s go see what my boss has to say, and we’ll go from there.” I said, smiling as we walked down the stairs, out the front door, and into the sunny day.
Before long we were entering the hallowed gates of my former place of employment: a technology firm where I could flex my coding muscles. It wasn’t game development, but any programming experience helped. We walked up to the secretary’s desk, manned ironically enough by a woman generically named Janette. Janette was the strict businesswoman type who always followed the rules, but that proved to be useless against Keira. Despite Janette and Keira both being members of the fairer sex, Keira only had to say a few majestic words and we were being escorted back to my boss’s office. Absolutely incredible.
Keira whispered to me, “Just let me do the talking, ok?” I nodded, hugging her as the door was opened and we entered the office of Design Manager Robert Fulligan.
Robert was a morbidly obese individual and had what can only be described as a ‘perma-wedgie;’ every time that man turned around there was a horribly visible crevice up his rear end. Needless to say, it was the butt of many cruel, albeit hilarious, jokes. Yes, by the way, that was a pun. He obnoxiously cleared his throat in a unnecessarily loud manner and looked up, setting down his pen. “Yes, what can I do for you?” He rasped: being as fat as he was, the mere act of speech could wind him. There was something that fueled an anger inside of me at this, that someone so weak could control my fate in such a way.
Keira bent over at the desk, batting her eyebrows, “Is it at all possible to give Matt his job back? I know it’s not your fault Robert, but maybe you could use your vast influence to pull a few strings? For me?” If Keira hadn’t instructed me to keep quiet I would have either exploded with laughter or have had a very loud heart attack. The results of her seductive pose and voice were damn-near instantaneous! Rob was visibly affected, turning bright red and beginning to sweat, and you didn’t need the wet spots forming under his man-breasts to inform you of that; it was beginning to stink horribly.
He cleared his throat once more, “Why, I’ll see what I can do right away! I’ll tell the boys upstairs that Matthew was the best designer we’ve ever had! Hell, I’ll tell them he was a vital part of the operation, and that we just can’t function without him!” He exclaimed, jiggling all over the place as his meaty fingers wrapped around the phone.
“Thank you, Robert.” Keira said, waving and turning, taking my hand in hers as we left the office. I turned my head, looking at her stupidly. I was stunned.
Once I was sure we were out of earshot, I began to dissect the events that had just occurred. “How did you do that? Everyone knows he’s a grouchy bastard who doesn’t give praise to anyone! I mean, your voice was sexy, the bending over too, but even then I’m not sure that would be enough to convince him. Oh my God, Keira, that was just incredible! I begged for my job earlier, even offering lower pay, and that didn’t do it!” Keira just gave her wry smile, giving me a kiss and winking.
“We women have our ways.” She said, giggling, “But back to more important things!” I wasn’t quite sure what could be more important that the near miraculous event that just took place, but I gave her my full attention. “Do you want to hop on over to the theme park and ride some rides?” She blushed, “I was thinking maybe we could make out in the Ferris Wheel, to be honest.”
I chuckled; Keira loved those physical exchanges in public places. I guess she got some sort of thrill out of it. “Sure, as long as we can still get in some roller coaster riding, yeah I’m down for that. I’ll buy.” I grinned and gave her a tight hug, kissing her on the lips.
I heard a grunt, “Save it for the Ferris Wheel, won’t you?” Came the callous voice of Janette.
I detached and gave her a smile; the kind that had the pretense of ‘you’re an asshole’ behind it. “Right, sorry. Come on Keira.” I must have been elated, because I went so far as to sweep Keira off her feet and carry her, much to her squealing delight.
“Oh my!” She squeaked, giggling once more, “So did I somehow give you muscles all of a sudden?” She teased, poking my biceps and giving a fake laugh. “Kidding of course! You’ve never carried me like this though…do you plan on doing all the way to the park?”
I nodded, holding her tighter, “Hell yeah, can’t half ass it; not with you. Now Janette maybe, but you, not a chance.” Keira howled with laughter, resting her head against my chest. I walked up the street for a ways before reaching the park. I sat Keira down and bought the tickets from the teenager behind the counter, and we were inside. “So, you said something about the Ferris Wheel?”
“Come on, I don’t want to have to wait any longer than necessary,” Keira took my hand and sprinted off, dragging me behind. I would never understand her fascination with public displays of affection, but if it made her happy I was fine with helping her experience it. I didn’t see what Keira was so worried about though; it’s not like the Ferris Wheel ever has a long line. I climbed up into the compartment and offered Keira a hand, pulling her up into it as well. She closed the metal door behind her, preventing anyone from spoiling our romantic solitude.
“Let’s wait until we’re out of sight, alright? Last thing we want it to be thrown out of the park, especially considering that the tickets were sixty bucks.” Keira gave a pout, but conceded, sitting on my lap.
“We can at least cuddle a bit then, right?” She asked cutely, grinding her butt on my lap. “Besides, they can’t see me doing this, can they?”
I shook my head, “No…no they can’t.” After what seemed like ages we were finally high in the sky, and I turned her around and set my lips on hers. For several minutes the entire world was encompassed by Keira and me. That is, until the sound of wrenching metal tore us from our ecstasy. “What was that?” I looked over the edge of our basket, to see people fleeing in just about every direction but towards the Ferris Wheel. Well, everyone but a single person, whom I can only assume was looking up, frozen with fear. The wheel appeared to be collapsing in on itself, as if one of the metal supports had snapped or just disappeared. Our basket lurched, and the light bulbs that adorned the wheel began to shatter as the metal buckled. I had to act fast if we were going to get out before it fell. I opened the metal door and let Keira out first. Neither of us was speaking; it was if we just knew what we had to do and what we would do next. Just as Keira clambered out onto the surface of the basket, the connection broke and our basket began to plummet. I could hear the collective gasp down below, and I wrapped myself around Keira, hearing screaming wind in my ears. I closed my eyes tightly, waiting for the bone shattering impact, but nothing came. Perhaps I had died instantaneously; I wasn’t sure. Finally I cracked open an eyelid and looked around. Sure enough I was still holding tightly onto Keira, who was only smiling at me. We were floating in the air. In the fucking air. Floating.
“Actually, we’re levitating.” Keira said as we slowly lowered to Earth. “No use hiding it now, as you can probably figure it out.” I was completely stupefied. I gazed up at the Ferris Wheel. It was frozen in place, mid-collapse. “Come on, we should go home…we can discuss this when we get there, ok baby?”
I just stared blankly at the frozen wheel, “Yeah…right…” Her arm wrapped around me as she led me back to her house. I expect something about the event will be on the evening news. Finally home, Keira laid me down on the couch.
“Are you ok?” She asked softly, resting a hand on my forehead. “Are you in shock? Just amazed? Or…afraid?” Keira sighed, standing and going into the kitchen. She returned with a glass of water. “Here, drink up.” I took the glass and drank, clearing my throat.
“I guess…well I’m feeling a lot of things. I’m amazed for sure, a bit afraid I suppose, curious, worried, maybe even a bit jealous.” I said, looking at her. “I mean…this would explain how you convinced my boss to give me my job back…and you must be able to read minds to correct me about the floating thing…I guess I’m a little worried about our relationship.”
“Why?” She asked, sitting down and cradling my head.
“If we have a fight…what’s from stopping you from going into my head and changing things around so that we’re cool? I love you…I just don’t want our relationship to be hollow. Do you understand?” I asked, clasping hands.
Keira stared blankly for a moment, pondering. “Yes, I understand. Relationships are built on trust…I can see why my abilities could put that in jeopardy. You’ll just have to believe that I never have and never will use them to change you. I’ll be honest with you though; I have looked in your head before.”
I blushed, clearing my throat, “Really, now…Does what you see…how’s it make you feel?”
“I like everything I see in there. I know you love me, and it’s helped me to see things from your perspective. Like last year when we were planning our vacation. I was able to understand why you didn’t want to go to the Grand Canyon. I didn’t realize until then that you’d had a childhood trauma there.” She smiled softly, “I will let you in on another little secret.”
I was feeling a lot better about things, so I was eager to hear what she had to say, “And what’s that, babe?”
“I didn’t stop the Ferris Wheel from falling.”
It took a minute for me to process that. “You mean…”
“Yup.” Her wry smile had returned to her face, “Guess you don’t have to be jealous now.”

Alone At Nigt

There are 4,127 white dots on my ceiling.
Don’t look at me like that. Maybe someday when you realize that you’re laying naked on your bed at half past two in the morning
counting the dots on your ceiling, you can give me that look.
Of course by then, I doubt you’ll want to.
I don’t. In fact, I don’t want much of anything anymore, except to close my eyes and have them stay closed, even if it’s only for a while.
30 years. 262,800 hours, 15,768,000 minutes, and never in all of it can I remember being so tired. But there’s a world of difference between tired
and sleepy. I didn’t used to think so, but I’ve learned that lesson good and well.
I read somewhere that people who stay awake for long periods of time start to hallucinate after a while. They just kinda go buggo. I have yet to see
any pink elephants doing ballet on the floor, or hear little malicious voices telling me to save the manatees, but it doesn’t mean I won’t. Cheery thought.
How does someone deal with the knowledge that they could lose their mind, might in fact be already losing it and not even know it?
You’re probably wondering why I haven’t gone to see a doctor yet.
Well, doctors treat diseases and I don’t have one. I suppose some people might beg to differ by calling it insomnia or some such thing,
but I know what insomnia is, and I’m pretty sure this goes far beyond it. Hence, there's not much a doctor can do, no matter what they claim.
And after all, who would know my own body better than myself?
For a while, my stash of weed gave me catnaps. Blissful catnaps of ten or fifteen minutes, even a whole hour once. I even have the burn hole
in my sheets to prove it. After a few days though, even that stopped helping. Near the time I ran out, chain smoking didn‘t even get me drowsy. Hah.
Big loss there. The medication that litters the bathrooms of this house didn’t help dick either. It says on the labels you have to be “willing” to sleep
for any of it to work. American placebos. I wonder if whoever made those pills ever suffered a single sleepless night in their lives.
They say it like it's that easy, just tell yourself you wanna get some sleep, and by the power of suggestions and good marketing, it shall be so.
Give me a break.
At first, I thought maybe it was my dog keeping me awake at night. Faro is the most loyal golden retriever you could ask for. I know all dog owners
say that about their dogs, just like all mothers believe their babies are the most beautiful in the world. It’s true though, Faro actually went out
and grabbed the paper for me in the morning and brought it back to my doorstep. Didn’t mind curling up at my feet and keeping me warm on cold days either.
I liked Faro. Her only fault, if she could be said to have any, is that she was a dog who never quit barking at a reasonable hour, when reasonable people
are trying to get some shut eye. At first I didn’t mind, I figured since I’m gonna be wide awake anyway, she can at least give me something to listen to
when it’s dark and lonely. Then two nights ago I thought to myself “What if it‘s her? Could it be? Is she keeping me awake all night with her barking,
and stupid me not even realizing it? Could she be the reason?”
How dare that mangy mutt. I gave her a home, gave her food and exercise, raised her from a blind, whimpering puppy, and this is how she thanks me?
By robbing me of my sleep with her incessant barking aimed directly at my window? Well that was okay. She made the worst mistake of her life by thinking she could drive me out by depriving me of rest long enough. I’ve stood fast in the path of lawyers and board execs worlds tougher than that bitch, and I wasn’t about to give in now. Or at least that’s what I thought.
Lord, I thought her barks outside were loud enough. When I started on her she would’ve woke the whole neighborhood if I hadn’t clamped her muzzle
with my hand. Fortunately it didn’t take long. Forty-five seconds at the outside, and it was over. I put the hacksaw down and picked up the pool cue,
and that was that. In retrospect, maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but like an old chemistry teacher of mine once said, “Even eliminating possibilities helps.
” So now I know for certain she wasn’t the cause of my sleeplessness. I’m glad too. I want my Faro to have a good place in my heart.
I don’t want to hate my dog.
You keep looking at me like that. I’m only trying to find out what my problem is so I can cure it. And there is no more surefire way than
methodically removing possibilities until only one is left. I think Einstein said that. It may take a while, sure, but it leaves nothing to chance.
Now that I think about it, another possibility just popped into my mind.
There will be food in this fridge. Just got to count to three. One, two, three. Nothing. Just a lonely potato and a jar of jelly.
I wouldn’t touch that potato with a ten foot pole. They say there are actually millions of microscopic disease ridden germs that swarm over
it’s innocent looking skin like locusts, and they‘re so small you can‘t see them. Not so very innocent now are you, my spudly friend?
Well this is one person you won’t be fooling with your outwardly healthy appearance. I know your game, you’re just waiting for me to reach out
and grab you, cut you to pieces and shove you in my mouth, chew you into mush and digest you in my stomach. Because then, then it’ll be like
the landing at Normandy for your crawling friends won’t it? It won’t take you long, so don’t sit there and tell me it it’ll be days before you get started.
I watch Discovery, I read Medical journals, I know all about you. All you need me to do is reach out and touch you, just one little touch,
and you’ll have me squirming on the floor for my foolishly misplaced trust, wallowing in my own shit like a pig as I hug my stomach for dear life.
Well, I’m no pig, and I’m no fool. You can sit there and rot on that middle shelf ‘till hell’s a skating rink for all I care.
Bam! There goes the light, and quite unexpectedly too. Pretty sad that’s the most exciting thing that happened here lately.
The only thing shining in my kitchen now is the glow of the open fridge. Have you ever noticed how the light of the icebox in the middle of the night looks
so alien? When all the other lights are off, and it’s just beaming light like a door to someone’s room, it seems so out of place in all that darkness.
And it always suggests sleeplessness, no matter where you’re at, or what you‘re doing, standing naked in front of your fridge in the middle of the night,
staring at it’s contents says you‘re awake when you shouldn‘t be. The fridge is always so welcoming too. Doesn't matter what time of night,
you always know you can open the fridge in the pitch blackness of your house and it will immediately pour light into the darkness,
as if it’s saying to you, “Hello again old friend, can’t sleep either?”
Then there’s the jar of jelly. I think I have some bread here somewhere, maybe upstairs in my bedside fridge. Those things are so neat,
little mini fridges that plug in the wall and sit right next to your bed. God bless the Taiwanese, or whoever invented them.
So lemme get this straight: I’ve gotta go back up the stairs, past the pool cue with Faro’s head on it, down the hallway, back in my room,
just on the off chance there might be some bread up there?
Forget it, I’ll go hungry tonight. Since I’m already down here, though, I guess I can find something to do. Which reminds me, my goldfish need food.
Fragile little buggers, those fish. Get their tank too warm or too cold, even by just a few degrees, and they bob on the surface like buoyant turds.
Give ‘em too much food, or maybe not enough, and once again they keel over. I have to wonder, if there is a God, why would He make such a pitiful life form? Personal amusement?
In fact, now that I think about it, goldfish really don’t do much for us, do they? They’re never gonna bring me my paper in the morning,
or nuzzle up on my feet and keep them warm. Of course neither will Faro anymore, but that’s beside the point. All they do,
day in and day out is swim obliviously in their tank, waiting for their next meal and for the next person to tap the glass
so they can swim into it like idiots because for some reason that’s cute. What a life.
Don’t I feed them? Don’t I keep their tank nice and comfy so it’s like living at the Four Seasons for them 24/7?
Don’t I even do that disgustingly cute tap bit so they can injure themselves when they‘re bored? I think I deserve a little something for my tireless
efforts. It’s not too much to ask of them to actually be a pet to me for once, since they’ve taken advantage of my goodwill for so long.
These guys are hard to hold on to. Got him again. Now which one is this, Barry? Bert? Mathilda? Who cares, they all look alike anyways.
Yes, you twist and turn all you want, you know what’s coming, I can see it in your beady, black little eyes, and I wonder, are you gasping for air,
or is it fear? Well my friend, you have every reason to be afraid. Everyone’s bill comes due, yours just happened to come a little sooner. Down the hatch.
I can feel it flopping around on my tongue, and it tickles. It really tickles in fact. Mmm... that takes care of that.
I honestly didn’t expect a goldfish to be this juicy, or crunchy. It tastes kinda… I don’t even know what to compare it to, it’s just a strange taste.
I don’t think it’s blood, fish don’t have blood, at least not goldfish. Wait a second… yeah, that was a distinctive squelch I felt.
I think it might’ve been an eyeball, not that there’s really a way to tell now, is there?
Well, that was filling, more so than that jar of jelly, or that potato. Except now I gotta go brush these scales off my teeth.
I’ll do it in a little while. So far, I’ve managed to kill two hours, as it’s now 4:30, and as usual, I don’t even feel the least bit goddamn sleepy.
I look terrible. Eyes are all bloodshot, hair’s a mess, and I have bags and crow tracks on my face now. I look like Nick Nolte probably did
when he was still stumbling out of bars. Ugh. According to my clock, as it now reads 4:36, I have been awake for 338 hours and 36 minutes straight.
I could probably claim that as some kind of record, if I felt like booting up my computer and checking. Which I don’t.
Music doesn't help any. I’ve listened to every CD and record in my possession, at least five times each, and none of it has helped yet.
Maybe I’ll just be awake until I die. I’ll be walking to the fridge one night, muttering to myself, since by then I’m fairly sure I’ll be off my rocker,
and I’ll just kick off right there in the middle of my living room. No famous last words. At least Pancho Villa said, “Don’t let it end like this.
Tell them I said something.” No dramatic gesture of defiance to the last, I’ll just be shuffling, and then be taking a quick trip to the floor.
I want sleep.
5:01. I am the only person in the world standing naked on my second floor balcony at 5:01 a.m. with a pool cue that has my dog’s head on it
and my goldfish digesting in my stomach. If I look closely, I can actually see the world turning and the horizon moving, ever so slightly.
It’s maddening. Seeing all those houses with their lights out and their inhabitants zzzing away the night while I’m forced to exist outside sleep,
watching them obliviously taking advantage of it’s sweet embrace. So unfair.
A day before, except for my kitchen and bedroom light, I smashed every bulb in this house to bits with a broom handle. I went from room to room,
like a serial stalker going through the house, and shattered every single one of them. Some of them I even unscrewed and broke on the ground
so I could hit the pieces a couple more times. It was actually quite refreshing, not to mention stress relieving.
Back to my room then, digging through boxes and boxes of junk, trying to get it all organized and neat. Hello, there’s something I didn’t expect to see.
This picture of me and my wife, excuse me, ex-wife, when we visited Niagara Falls, back in the summer of ‘98. I haven’t thought about her for years,
ever since we had our little falling out. From what I understand, she and her new husband were quite happy for a while, with three children to their name.
Seeing this picture for the first time in almost six years brings back some sad memories. Could I have done something different to make her want to
stay with me? Might we have lived happily ever after? Maybe I could've been there for her a little more, and then I'd at least have someone to share this
hellfucked situation with.
Oh well. What’s done is done, and cannot be undone. I’m not sure who said that, somebody important, but whoever it was pegged it right.
“What’s done is done and cannot be undone.” I love the finality of that statement.
The sheer adamant aggressiveness of it that completely denies all argument and negotiation. If only more people could live by that saying,
then maybe we’d all sleep better at night.
I’m tired. That goes without saying. Not just physically, I’m tired of seeing things that aren't there.
I'm tired of waiting for my mind to crumble away out from under me. Tired of closing my eyes and feeling nothing.
Tired of having this house to myself day and night and night and day. Mostly though, I’m tired of sunup and sundown,
watching the two of them pass me by relentlessly without a thought. What a predicament. I can’t sleep,
therefore I’m always thinking about what could have been, or what might be, and because of that, ignoring what is. On the other hand though,
if I could sleep, I think I know what I’ll see, and I don’t like it.
I have a solution. Even as you read this, I’m loading my .38. Not with six bullets mind you, who the hell wants to go out like that?
No, I think I’ll play a little Russian Roulette with my last night here. Always wanted to. I was usually just too afraid of dying.
Well that's at least one problem that has since been remedied. Death doesn’t scare me so much these days,
not nearly as much as having to continue on in this house like this, steadily creeping towards insanity. Six chambers, one bullet,
let’s spin the barrel and see if I get lucky. Wham. There’s goes chamber number one, and the dead click that accompanies it. Click.
I live to write another day. I wonder what my wife would think if she saw me doing this? If she walked in the door right now,
walked in on me with a gun to my head, would I turn to her, shocked and surprised, like a kid who gets caught doing weed by his mom for the first time?
Or would I simply keep going, unphased?
Click. Nothing so far. My luck could very well be so bad tonight that I just happened to pull the one dud out of a box of 100. Wouldn’t that be a joke?
I make it all the way to that sixth round, close my eyes in eager fright and anticipation, and squeeze the trigger with a shaking hand, only to hear