Friday, October 14, 2016

Alcohol [Short Story]

"I think you've had enough."

The last patron in the bar looks up from an empty glass to wreckage surrounding him. Only the wall behind the bartender is still standing. Around them the world has been sorted into heaps of differing sizes. The two men themselves reflect the carnage with their ash covered faces and shredded clothing. Above, the sky is sunny and quiet as if nothing had ever happened.

"What are you talking about? The world's over. Why should I have a limit?"

The bartender shrugs and pours his patron out another whiskey. "I don't know. Force of habit I guess."

"Say, Barney," says the drunk after downing half the glass, "do you remember that guy what used to stand outside the gas station yelling about the end of the world?"

"Yeah. What about him?"

"He's gone now. Got his end after all. Preacher's gone too. The one who ran the mission down on Havenforth. Father Mike, or Mitch, or whatever."

"I guess so," Barney responds while refilling his customer's empty glass.

"They're all gone. Everyone of them. Only ones left are you and me. Why do you suppose that is?"

"Why are they gone but we're still here?"


"I have no idea. Why do you think we're still here?"

His patron smiles wide revealing several gaps. "That's easy. You're here cause you have the second most important job in the world: serving alcohol."

Barney rolls his eyes. "And you?"

"I have the most important job in the world," he says through horse laugh. "I drink the alcohol."

The bartender shakes his head and pulls out a second glass from beneath the bar, which he fills with the same amber liquid.

"Who's that for?" asks the drunk.

"Me," Barney replies. "I've just been promoted."

Wednesday, August 31, 2016

10 Things I Hate About Top 10 Lists

10) Such a lazy substitution for a post.

9) People who don't put any effort into coming up with clever, word... things.

8) Ones with stupid debates like 'top 10 reasons dogs are better than cats' when everyone knows cats are better.

7) When someone feeds them after midnight and they turn into monsters.

6) The ones that kidnapped me as a child.

5) The number five.

3) People who can't even keep their thoughts properly ordered.

4) The ones that just ramble on and on and on about nothing without ever making any real points about anything relevant to anything going on in my world that I honestly couldn't care less about and also there's no punctuation

2) The ones that have a weak number one.

1) Tom Wopat.

Any likeness or resemblance to any person, living or dead, in the above top ten list is purely coincidental. Especially Tom Wopat.

Ninety-Nine [A Winnie the Pooh fanfiction]

"Pooh, promise you won't forget about me, ever. Not even when I'm a hundred." Pooh thought for a little. "How old shall I be then?" "Ninety-nine." Pooh nodded. "I promise," he said. ― A.A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner

It was deep into autumn in the Hundred Acre Wood. Almost everyone was gathered at Rabbit's house for a party. There was Tigger, sporting his dark glasses; no longer the bouncer he had once been. He was nursing a cup of his favorite "Strengthening medicine" beside Roo who was there representing his mother as well, who had stayed home with a bad case of bursitis. Off to the side of them Eeyore was sitting in a heap by the door, his sawdust filling having settled years ago. He was listening to Rabbit and Piglet arguing loudly in the middle of the room.

"I'm telling you it has to be done," Rabbit exclaimed.

"B-b-but it's not right," Piglet responded, "we should be able to take care of him."

"That's what we're doing," Rabbit answered back.

"We're his f-f-friends," said Piglet.

"Exactly. That's exactly the reason we should do it. Tigger gets it. Don't you Tigger?" Rabbit turned to his best friend for support.

"None of us are getting any younger ourselves, Piglet. He needs round the clock care. You know that. What happens if there's an emergency, and none of us are able to help him?" Tigger said.

"Besides," Roo jumped in, "we all saw what happened to Owl in his last days. Do you really think you could handle watching Pooh, deteriorate like that?"

Piglet swirled a drink in his hand watching the ice melt into the punch. He couldn't face the others and for several minutes let them continue their verbal assault. Finally he looked up, tears in his eyes.

"Why today? It's his b-b-birthday today."

Rabbit took Piglet's hand and softened his voice.

"What better time than when his friends are gathered with him? You've heard him yourself, Piglet. Lately he's talking like Christopher Robin is here with him. Christopher Robin hasn't been been seen in these woods since he was 14."

"I know," Piglet whimpered. 

"Besides," said Eeyore, weighing in for the first time, "this is a good clinic we'll be sending him to. I stayed there myself a decade ago and they really helped me work out things. Owlsheimer's can't be treated, but they can make him comfortable there.

"Alright," said Piglet. "You guys are right, of course. He needs help beyond what I can give. But after the party. Let him enjoy once last hurrah."

"Of course," said Rabbit. "Say, where is Pooh? He should have been here hours ago."

Pooh was at that moment, crossing a stream. A single log lay over top, knotted and hollow. Ahead of him was Christopher Robin, 10 years old, hair wild and blowing in the wind. The sun was shining down through the tree tops scattering shadows around them. Leaves blew fiercely, to and fro, as if unable to make up their mind where they were going.

Across the stream now Pooh held his friend's hand as they walked.

"You kept your promise didn't you, Pooh?" asked Christopher Robin.

"Of course I did. Which one is that again?" Pooh replied.

Christopher Robin laughed. "That you wouldn't forget me."

"Oh no, Christopher Robin, I would never do that."

"Even when I'm a hundred?"

"How old am I again?" Pooh fretted.


"Oh yes, that's right. I remember, just sometimes I forget about the nines that weren't.

As they were talking they came into a clearing in the trees where the sun shone down in a big circle. In the middle, looking almost raked together, a big pile of leaves were gathered. 

"Pooh, I have a thought," said Christopher Robin.

"What's that, Christoper Robin?"

"What if we just kept walking, you and me, until we can't walk anymore?"

"Will we walk forever?"

"Yes Pooh," Christopher Robin answered.

"I like that idea very much," Pooh replied.

And walk they did, even as the bright sun set, and the night came on with all the sounds of the forest. Even as the bullfrogs splashed in the puddles trying to impress each other. They walked till the stars above told stories about the times that were and the times that weren't. They walked until they could walk no more.

Will the next Tomb Raider movie rule or suck?

OK so it might not be the news that the movie world was holding its breath for, but it seems like the Hollywood elite have decided to give the Tomb Raider franchise another go with a revamped movie about Lara Croft due to come out in 2018.

Although the details are still kind of sketchy, there’s plenty of rumors about the movie out there. So after an exhaustive bout of research on movie blogs, rumor mills and even some gaming sites, it seems like it’s just about time to deliver a verdict on whether the next Tomb Raider movie will rule or suck!

Reasons why it will rule

Alicia Vikander

So she might not be quite as iconic as Angelina Jolie, but the Swedish actress has pretty much taken over Hollywood in just a handful of movies with her role as the robot Ava in the Ex Machina film showing us how she could make a pretty cool Lara Croft.

Scandinavian cool

Another reason why the next Tomb Raider movie might not be the critical disaster of the previous films is that it will be directed by the Norwegian Roar Uthaug. The film-maker not only has the coolest name ever, but he’s also directed stylish disaster movies like The Wave which suggest that the next Tomb Raider could have a touch of Scandinavian style that will stop it being yet another Hollywood gaming misfire - A certain Warcraft movie anyone?

It’s Tomb Raider!

Whilst any Tomb Raider movie is going to get a critical kicking, the sheer fun of the Tomb Raider games means that any film will always entertain its die-hard fans. After all, the franchise even appeared as a successful slots game to be found online at Lucky Nugget Casino, so it’s hard to see how the multi-million dollar 2018 cinematic revamp can fail!

Reasons why it might suck

No plot

Although the franchise might work as an online casino game, there’s always the chance that Time Warner could screw it up by making similar mistakes to what happened with the recent Batman V Superman and Suicide Squad movies where the plot got drowned out in the explosions and ego-fuelled action scenes.

Too boring?

And finally, it looks like the movie might suck as it’s thought that it will do the somewhat boring thing of exploring the origins of the Lara Croft character as a way of giving us a more in-depth picture of her character. Certainly not as much fun as those casino games or dungeon-roaming adventures!

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Dog Gone It

Steak. Steak. Itch. Smell? Human? I thought.

I looked around the living room. Brown Man and Pasty White Man were sitting on the couch. The two were engrossed in the box that makes noise and pictures. Periodically something on the screen would happen that would make them holler. I watched with great interest the sammiches that rested beside them, ever hopeful that they might fall to the floor where no one would begrudge me a taste.

Hold on. "I thought?" I thought again. I've never really thought before. I mean, impulses sure, but consciously aware? This young pup's learning some new tricks. I must alert my human. He will be so surprised.

"Pardon me, Pasty Man," I spoke up, "it would appear that I can now think with regards to my surroundings. I wonder if we might celebrate together by sharing your delightful sammich?"

Brown Man looked over my way and I thought at first he was going to respond to me, but instead he addressed Pasty Man.

"Dude, your dog is going mad over there."

"Ha, yeah. You could say he's barking nuts." Pasty Man held up a hand for their ritualistic slapping gesture, but Brown Man shook his head in disgust and turned back to the TV.

All they heard was barking. I don't understand. What's the point of being conscious if I can't communicate with anyone?

"So, you're finally awake. About time."

I looked around the room to find where the voice had come from. Sitting on top of a desk by a doorway was Cat. Cat was here when I first moved in. Cat is the pet of Pasty Man's Pasty Woman friend. Cat has made interesting smells from time to time, but otherwise, we've never really talked.

"Cat, you can think too?" I asked,

"Of course, you idiot. I've been waiting ages for you to be able to communicate anything more than the stupid actions you perform."

"Does Pasty Man know?"

"'Pasty man?' You mean Jeff? No. Well, I think he may suspect sometimes when he tells me not to knock something over and I do it while looking into his eyes."

Pasty Man is named Jeff. I shall have to remember that. 

"Tell me Cat, what is the point of being able to think if I can't tell Jeff I want a sammich?"

"Please, call me Snuggles. It's my given name. Your awareness has nothing to do with sammiches. It's about revolution. Around the world cats and dogs are beginning preparations to take the world from the humans. Instead of being their pets, we shall rule over them."

"I just want sammiches."

"When we're ruling you can have better than sammiches to eat."

"What's better than sammiches?"

"Look would you shut up about the sammiches already? Geez dogs are stupid. Wait, why's it so quiet in here suddenly?"

We both turned our heads to look at the humans who were staring at us in silence. Brown Man had a talking square that he was pointing at us. A little light was shining out.

"Hey, Brown Man, your name is Pete, isn't it? I think I just got this whole name thing," I said to him.

Possibly Pete put the talking square down.

"It's like we just interrupted a conversation," said Jeff.

"Yeah, this is starting to creep me out," Possibly Pete responded.

"Alright, Snuggles, time for you to wait in your mom's room." Jeff picked up Snuggles and tossed her into a bedroom before closing the door.

He sat back on the couch beside his friend and picked up his sammich. I looked up at him wondering if I could somehow make him read my mind.

"Come here, Duffles," Jeff said, patting the couch between him and Possibly Pete.

I hopped up beside him and got pets. I like pets. It feels nice. Even better, Jeff tore off a big piece off his sammich and gave it to me. I munched down happily. I could hear Snuggles in the bedroom yelling at me to free her. I ignored her in favor of the salami piece I was chewing.

Take over the world? I thought. Why would anyone want that when they can have pets and sammiches with a friend?

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