Peponi

(For those of you wondering what the heck this is, this is the second part. The first part is available as requested, but, be warned, it's the longest, most rambly, inconsistent, terrific, incredible, horrendous mess of words I've ever read. And I didn't write it. If you still want to read the first part of this story, just ask and I'll find some way to get the monstrosity to you.)

Peponi

one
After the Storm

A long time ago, when huge gigantic wars were going on, and great evils were being scrunched to death, and when tortillas were still inclined to go skydiving, there were companions. Primarily, though, this story and the ones before it pertain to a girl by the name of Susie. Occasionally people were unsure of the spelling of her name, occasionally she was shot with darts, and occasionally she shot darts herself. Most of the time, though, she was confused.

No more. Susie had friends. There was Walter, who she had this thing for, and who, no less, had this thing for her. Yes. Things were had, back then.

There were Ashley, and Clefspeare, Tux and William and Bonnie. But they were all gone.

In the literal sense, Susie was sitting in a pile of dust. Well, no, it was actually sand. And it wasn’t so much a pile as, well, a desert. She was feeling pretty bad. Her lips had gone dry about six hours ago, and time progressing thusfar in such a was as not to end her life was nothing but a miracle. Anyway, she was really thirsty.

Queue beginning of absurdly long description of the local landscape.

Susie sat in a dune several feet taller than almost every other one for miles around. For miles and miles around, there was nothing but sand. There was yellow sand, orange sand, red sand, and there was white sand. In the distance, if one were dehydrated and malnourished, one might even make out blue sand, but that obviously couldn’t be anything but a mirage.

There were several boulders smattered in Susie’s broader vicinity. One of them happened to be shadowing her, oddly enough.

…

I say oddly enough simply because it was high noon. The sun was directly above her. Nevertheless, she was comparatively cool.

Which honestly goes without saying. If you weren’t aware, she’s got the nerve of twelve lions, and the backbone of an overdried tortilla.

Queue end of absurdly long description of the situation in general.

A spider walked up to her and insisted on occupying her knee.

She raised an eyebrow at it and shrugged. It’d been a while since she’d cared if she lived or died. She remembered the good times. Fighting monsters and conquering evils and whatnot. It had been fun. Moreover, there had been Walter. She loved the way he’d been surprised when she nearly crushed the life out of him after all that craziness. She loved the way his hair rarely smelled of dead fish, and she really didn’t mind it when he kissed her.

She started crying.

They were all gone. It seemed impossible that they could be alive. How could they have survived?


two
Windy

Moments after the companions had received their gifts from the White One, they had all sat around for a half minute staring blankly into the surrounding horizon and every one of them failing in every way to think of something to say.

Eventually, though, Walter wacked himself on the head and stood up. It took him some time to figure out what to do after that, but he guided his belt through the loops in his jeans. He sheathed Excalibur and proceeded to look like he had some idea what should be done.

Consequently, the fellowship turned their eyes to him, attentive and willing.

“Um,” he said, looking rather nervous all of a sudden. Suddenly, though, it was clear to him. The path ahead was laid out before him like a very-advanced holographic heads-up-display, but with less expanded abbreviations and less tech involved. Pretty much a gut feeling. It was like his heart could see the yellow brick road even though his eyes couldn’t.

“Come one, people, we haven’t got all day!” he said jovially.

And with that, he led them all into a sandstorm. He wasn’t exactly sure at what point it went from a greened rocky crag to a maelstrom of a desert, but at some point, it did. The company was divided thus: Bonnie found herself with Walter, William with Tux, Clefspeare with Ashley.
Susie, though, found herself alone. And, being the main character of an absurdly long story, she was spending some time feeling sorry for herself. Naturally, crying and not doing anything useful in the desert, she...

“Wanna play darts?” said a tall man with far too much facial hair and a wicked grin on his face.

!Noah!

New Year, stuff and things

Well, it's a new year. I guess that's alright. I haven't written any resolutions. I can't say my life's better yet for having an extra couple years on this decade. Anyway.

Hmmm. What to say. I might be getting a new camera and/or taking some photography classes soon. This primarily depends on my parents, which I'll be grateful for when I see it. Not that I don't appreciate their apparent willingness now, but it's a pretty big thing. I can't wait to go to NatCam to test out all the options.

Still cleaning the house. Unfortunately, I'm not taking much part in it anymore. I probably should. But on the other hand, I want to continue Taekwondo. Preferably more than before. Especially since spring might potentially be around the corner, but actually regardless.

The madhouse that is my mind? For the moment, things are moderately calm. I haven't really talked to a friend in a while, and I feel like I'm getting used to it. That's a bad thing? I'm pretty sure it is in the long run, but for now, I can imagine it being a good thing. Then again, my imagination...

Trying to find a film developer for the cartridge that came with the Olympus film camera. I took a dozen or so pictures...it's odd, though. It says it's a 24-shot one. I guess my confusion is a given, given the fact I've never really used a film camera before. (actually, I have, but it was in Colorado. Like twelve years ago. Disposable. Yes.)

Girl X is still on the lam. Question is, do I forget her as I've always thought of her (potentially meaning the abrupt and unstoppable return of affection just as she returns), or should I let absence do what it does?

...

Even more important, even if I could make my bloody mind up, would I be able to act accordingly?


!Noah!

Words

I freaking love words.

Juxtaposition, quazar, quixotic, pathetic.

Whatever.

Words are too cheap.

Distrobution is in the hands of all, the work of a second.

Words should be precious.


!Noah!

Silverware

Once there was a man who made silverware. For no obvious reason, though, he chose to create his silverware such that they appeared to be spoons and yet were forks. Many were outraged that when they went to eat spaghetti they would find the noodles slipping from their grasp, and when eating soup find that the soup would merely pass through their spoon. People asked him again and again why he did this, but never did the man give a reason.

The man continued throughout his life to create his wares thus, and continued over time to become less and less respected and wealthy. Eventually, he found that his business could no longer support itself, and so closed up shop.

The spoon is a multi-million year old rock.
The fork is a multi-thousand year old rock.
The man is God.


!Noah!

The Ant and the Eagle

A long time ago, after caterpillars had learned to fly but before dandelions took to the skies, there lived an ant in an anthill a long way from the front steps in a crack in the sidewalk. This ant wanted to fly. He spent his days watching the sparrows, bees, butterflies, and eagles in the skies, wishing he, too, could feel the wind in his...well, generally assaulting his person.

One day, he found the sparrow rummaging nearby and went up to him.

“Sparrow, friend, I have seen you fly above the treetops with such ease! How do you coax the wind to hold you aloft?” he queried politely.

The sparrow was hungry and not in a mood to talk, so he pecked at the ant and made to eat him. The ant bolted away quickly and, with panic enough for one day, went to bed to sleep.

The ant woke the next day with one dream in his mind still, to fly! He thought today to ask the kindly butterfly, who wouldn’t eat other things alive. Without delay he climbed a blooming daisy and scanned the skies for the butterfly. No sooner had he looked when the butterfly landed nearby, and spoke to him.

“Good morning, ant! The flowers are beautiful today!” she said happily. The butterfly was usually cheery.

“Good morning, butterfly. The flowers are beautiful indeed, but I only wish to see the sky up close!”

The butterfly nodded sadly. “The sky is beautiful as well. I would carry you there, but my wings are new, and even carrying my own weight aloft is difficult. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavor!”

The ant left the butterfly sadly, and returned to his hill once more. The night passed and he slept not, wishing only to go to see the sky

Finally, as the sun’s rays found their way to his hill and the sounds of the morning began, the ant once more ventured forth to find a way to go above the trees.

A heart-wrenching screech went out over the tops of the trees and a rush of wind signaled the arrival of the eagle. The ant scrambled wildly and called to the eagle repeatedly, hoping not to lose this opportunity. To his relief, the eagle came soaring down to him, nearly blowing him half a foot away. The eagle was huge compared to either the sparrow and the butterfly, and much more majestic. Thus the ant addressed him with respect.

“O kindly eagle, I have spent my life wishing to fly and to take to the air, but I have no wings, and the sparrow was unwilling, and the butterfly unable to take me aloft. Would you in your generosity use your great wings to show me the wonder of flight?”
The eagle looked at him and nodded.

He lowered his head and the ant climbed on.

The wind instantly rushed over the ant’s body like a tsunami, shooting through his legs and going on. The ant unfortunately didn’t have eyelids, and thus couldn’t have them fly back and expose his eyeball. Regardless, the ant and the eagle flew that day for a long time, and when the ant became tired, the eagle set him down right next to his hill.

The ant and the eagle became good friends over time, and the ant learned many things from the eagle.

Never trust a sparrow.

The End

!Noah!

For Some Odd Reason (pt. 10)

Ratchet hadn't much liked the idea of disembodiment much before in her life, and it didn't seem awfully pleasant even now. Being that the wind was currently assaulting her from all sides, disembodiment seemed not a bad word to describe her current situation. Ratchet was also getting tired. She's kinda lost track of time, so she couldn't have known she'd been awake for a straight week, but her body was catching up with the fact, and she fell asleep. She also fell speedily toward the ground.

Ratchet woke up again in a hospital bed, and blinked five times. The room was empty and dark. She found she couldn't remember why she was in the hospital. On the whiteboard across from her was written a name:

Dr. Cook.

It seemed odd until she looked at her hand. In all honesty, she actually looked a couple inches above her wrist. There wasn't much hand there to be seen. Peculiar.

And then it all came together. Literally and figuratively. Her hand reassembled from gaseous elements, and she decided to be a superhero. She left her bed and jumped out the window.

The rest is history. Or, rather, unwritten fiction. But still a history of sorts.


!Noah!

Don't Copy this Post

Seriously. Don't even think about it.

People, let's start with something simple. Copy and past a link to something awwesssommmeee. This isn't so bad. Hey, I do it a lot, even. Linking to a Youtube video is second. It's more annoying 'cause you can't be sure it's not interesting until you've seen the first few seconds of it.

But forwarding emails, copying and pasting posts or statii on Facebook.

Please. Please, listen to these simple tips.

One: we're in the information age. That means you have gazillions of images, articles, games, blogging sites, video upload sites, oh, and photo upload sites. Soooo many.

Lots.

So I ask you...with all this information at your fingertips, seconds away from your eyes, why, in the name of Q-tips and apple pie, would you copy and paste almost anything? Hey, I may be a radical who practically forwards/copy/pastes anything, but really. It took me less than five seconds to make sure a story wasn't true. There's Urban Legends, there's Snopes. For heaven's sake, there's Google. Things like these go around, and people ask about things like these. Thus, there's information on things like these on the internet. A couple clicks and a dozen or so keypresses away.


Two: Use common sense. I perhaps use this to an excessive degree, where I won't even forward the awe-inspiring or tear-jerking emails to friends or family...but that's not the point. There are very, very few times when your forwarding something or reposting something or copying a status will actually have a meaningful effect on someone's life. And guess what? If you spend ten minutes researching someone who's actually legitimately in need, or, heck, volunteering at a soup kitchen, or even visiting the bed-ridden...

Well, just ask yourself this: which is most self-sacrificial? Which shows most you care to the person in need?

Granted, there are times when forwards aren't the worst possible thing in the world. Occasionally, they're funny, cute, gut-wrenching, or something. Moderately tolerable. Sometimes these forward/repost/status things aren't completely bogus. That's where you really need your common sense.

My apologies if this wasn't helpful and was just annoying.

I get ticked off by this stuff easily.

To cheer you up from that rant:

youtube.com/watch?v=KCSA7kKNu2Y


!Noah!

Eight in the Kitchen at Eight

Ten years ago, I woke up and came downstairs to the kitchen. I can't remember the exact time, and I can't remember exactly when the towers were attacked, but I remember Daddy telling Mommy something and her being significantly taken aback. I understand better today what he'd told her about, but I remember the feeling then of rather infantile, formless horror.

"After seeing just one video concerning eight years ago's events, I have little to say. On September eleventh, men raised their fists at America, and struck down more than three thousand of us. It is our duty to remember this, tell it to our children, and inspire the, "quiet, unyielding anger" that Mr. Bush spoke of on that dreadful day. Forgetting that terrible day, and what it implies for our future, is akin in magnitude to forgetting the knowledge, but mostly wisdom, that centuries before wrote in books, spoke to crowds, and thought with conviction.


We must never forget September the eleventh. Then, we were brutally and mercilessly assaulted by men who hate America solely for the immense and wonderful liberty that Americans have, share, and allow, to anyone who enters our country legally. Imagine a world where we forgot that there used to be two gargantuan, near identical towers on Manhattan Island. Forgetting any part of our past is to flout the wisdom and knowledge of those before us, and endanger those who will proceed us. The stuff of the past is more valuable than ten thousand times ten million times all our nation's wealth. Few or no other mediums can teach us as much, admonish us as aptly, or commend us as correctly. Few of those before us would wish themselves forgotten, if not because they were wise and knowledgeable, then because they were proud. Our past, if studied, ensures our future security.


The importance of the present and future are second only to the past."


I can't say I'm as eloquent as I was then at this particular moment, but I couldn't really say much more or say it much better than I did then. We have enemies who are strong, strong enough to strike out in cowardly and despicable manners. Moreover, we cannot expect Al-Qaeda and Saddam and bin Laden to be the only haters of our great country. Without a doubt, more will rise up and attempt to take freedom from us--even within our borders. Fear is not the answer. Not even close. We're in a battle for the survival of not our country, but the liberty that our country provides. The solution is to spread said freedom, to protect it, to teach our children how blessed they are to have it.


The terrorists would have us stripped of our liberties, so our duty is to come together and pull against them in this great tug of war. Our country and our liberty are at stake. This is no less true today than it was ten years ago.


Remember, remember, the eleventh of September.




!Noah!