Saturday, October 30, 2010

NaNoWriMo - Prep Day One

Well, the day is looming just a wee two days away, and my feet are positively tickled with nervousness. (Yes, my feet)

Are you wondering what I am talking about? Of course you are. You see, for the first time ever, I have decided to participate in NaNoWriMo!

*Applause*

Thank you, thank you. For those that have not heard of it, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. It is for all of those writers out there that work best under pressure, and it encourages them to accomplish one of the greatest writing feats of all.

No, not writing with their toes. Good guess.

It's actually for writing a novel! (Did the title give it away?)

The challenge of NaNoWriMo is to write a 50,000 word novel in one month. Of course, novels can be bigger, but this is the bare minimum required for it to be considered a "novel". You may be wondering why I have decided to wait until November to try to write a novel. Well, the truth is that I am a lazy person, and I hope that the concept of writing 50,000 words in one is enough incentive for me to actually accomplish it.

I have never written a novel before. Ever. Unless you can't the novels I half started, then I've written a dozen. Yeah, I'm not good at finishing things. The furthest I got in a novel was about 24,000 words, and that failed because I had no idea how the story was going. This is because I am a seat of her pants kind of writer, and I avoid plotting stories at all costs most of the time. Plotting is really boring to me, but after failing horribly with my other novel, I have decided to actually try to PLOT this time.

*YAY*

So, having never plotted before. I tried many methods. I tried a Snowflake method, but that was too technical. I finally decided on doing this thing using index cards. I write one scene on a card, and repeat times 100 until I have enough scenes to piece together into a story. Due to my lack of organization, my "Plot Area" got really messy. This is what it looked like when it was just a pile of ideas:



Of course, that was only random scenes in a random order, so I HAD to make it look better and more coherent, so it eventually turned into this:



Yeah, that's much prettier.

I don't have all my plot down, but I know for a fact that if I try I'll lose some of my creative juices in the process, so I'm going to leave it as it is for now.

All I have to do is wait for Nov. 1st! I am hoping, if I'm not too tired, to keep you posted on my progress. It's hard to do this stuff alone, ya know! 'Til next time.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

The Shower Man!

Okay, okay, that was not a reference to Psycho or Singing in the Rain. I was actually making a reference to my rampant paranoia. I'm a really cautious person, so I have a tendency to double-check the most ridiculous things, just to make sure they don't hurt me.

Like the *cough* shower man *cough*

Okay, I said it! I am afraid of the...Shower Man..

(Creepy Music)

The shower man, just to set things straight, is a man that happens to find your shower interesting and wants to live in it. And if you try to take his shower, he'll shank you with his long, sharp spork. You can shank with a spork, by the way. All he wants is his shower, man! Hence, Shower Man.  He also likes to pop out and scare you when your back is turned. I'm deathly afraid of him.

Hey, it's not my fault. It's my sister's. We were both in the bathroom when she suddenly opened the shower curtain.

ESTHER: Why did you do that?

SIS: What? Oh, you mean checking the shower? I was seeing if anybody was in there.

ESTHER: Why would there be someone in the shower?

SIS:  Don't you think someone could just pop out and get you?

ESTHER: No! That's ridiculous! Why would that ever happen?

SIS: You're right, I guess that is weird. (EXITS.)

(There is a long pause. ESTHER stands near the shower. A scared look overcomes her face.)

ESTHER: Oh, frell. (Checks shower.)

I love myself. I really do. So now just a person who hangs out in the shower has evolved into Shower Man. Curse you Shower Man! Where is Superman when you need him? Or Batman? Megaman? Anyone will do. Just get that man out of my shower!

Nobody else seems to notice shower man.  I think he is only out to shank me. It's probably because I taste like chicken and the rest of my family tastes like beef. When you have a choice, you go with chicken, ya know?

At least he doesn't live in my shower all the time. He totally avoids it in the mornings, when people are getting cleaned up. However, when dawn turns its fading head, he does come back. Unless you check the shower after you enter the bathroom, in which case he turns invisible. But if you forget, just once, he'll get ya! He'll get ya all!

I am going to try to keep Shower Man happy by singing him a song.

Shower Man! Shower Man!
Does what ever a shanker can!
He will stab
with his spork
which is a mixture
of a spoon and a fork

Watch out! Here comes Shower Man!

My mom just might think I have issues when she comes home and finds me stalking around, looking behind my shoulder and singing Shower Man.



But then again, it's worth it. So beware for all of those who want to use the can.

Watch out, here comes Shower Man.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

The Geeking: Final Fantasy XIII Review

Okay, so you know how I promised that I would review Final Fantasy XIII after I finished playing it? You do? Well, I actually finished playing the game about a month ago...oops! Hey, don't get mad at me! It's not like I'm a lazy bum who just procrastinates all the time!

...Oh, right.

With that aside, let's get to the FIRST EVER. GEEKING. REVIEW. ON. VRP!


FINAL FANTASY XIII REVIEW

Final Fantasy XIII is a game that RPG gamers have looked forward to playing for a long time.We stuck with the breath-taking trailers, fantasized on the FF Forums, even made poorly written fanfiction about it before the game came out. While not a forum poster or a fanfiction writer myself, I was among the many who looked forward to playing the game as soon as it came out. I have played many of the games before it: XII, X-2, X, IX, VIII,VII, V, and IV, and loved all of them. Needless to say, XIII (I shall be calling it that from this point onward) had clown-sized shoes to fill.  So did they fill them?

The answer, ladies and gents, is a Yes, and a No.

Yes, XIII is a good game. It's lovely, with good game play and interesting world design.

As for a No? You'll just have to keep reading to find out. I'll be basing this on the needed factors of an RPG: Graphics, Game play, Lasting Appeal, Plot, and Characters. Let's start with the good stuff and head down from there.



GRAPHICS/GRAPHIC DESIGN:

Oh gee mamma, this game is pretty. It might just be the prettiest game I've played. The world varies from lush plains to dark and dingy robotesque factories. The characters are all wonderfully rendered, with great detail extending to even the texture of their clothing and hair. Each area is obviously well thought out, and there are new little objects to look at wherever you go. And then there are the cut scenes, which are just so beautiful, sometimes, they make your pupils go wide and your jaw drop.

So with such a pretty world like this, is there anything disappointing about how this game looks?

Uh-huh. You see folks, there might be lush plains in the game, but you won't be able to see them for most of the story line. Instead, you'll be trapped in dark, ugly, monotonous areas full of rusty trash and debris for a lot of the game. Sometimes, the areas blend together and you forget where you are. Sure, the game is pretty, but when it comes to variation of graphic design the game falls short. There are high tech parts that have lots of magical space ships and all that, but once again, they all kind of look the same. When you get to Gran Pulse, the heart of the game, you'll be on your knees, thanking your deity for the warmth and the sunshine. (Of course, that will be after about 14 hours walking through a dirt pile. ) Gran Pulse might even get boring after a while, because it is where nearly ALL of the side quests are located, so if you want to beat everything, you'll have to look at a whole lot of green.

GAME PLAY:

XIII is a pretty fun game to play. And like each Final Fantasy, it has a defined battle system.

I won't go into detail with the system, but it I will tell you it is a nice blend between button mashing and strategy. The battles are all about switching your battle team up to fit certain circumstances, and you do that by changing the roles that each character plays. You have three characters in a team, also. For example, if you were fighting an enemy with a strong defense, you would switch up your battle team to a Saboteur (A debuffing role), a Commando (hard attacker), and maybe Medic (healer). The Sab would weaken the defense, while a commando rapidly attacked, and a medic healed. Of course, it isn't as simple as that. There are also things called chain gauges, and each enemy has one. The more you attack, the faster the chain builds. If it reaches a certain point, the enemy is "staggered" which means that he is stunned and super weak. The game also judges you on how fast you win each battle. This puts some emphasis on the need to switch your battle teams up from defensive to offensive to beneficial as quickly as possible, making the battle system a thrill ride. (END confusing rant.)

So yes, battling is fun, but what if that is all you do? I'm serious. There are no side quests besides hunting down and killing monsters. There are no mini games like in the previous FFs.

Oh, I forgot. You walk. How rude of me to forget that.

You will be walking forward for most of the game. Don't even try to turn left, you don't need to. Each area is so linearly designed that essentially all you have to do is push the joy stick forward, and watch your character move to the next screen. I guess you could go to that little cubby over there and pick up an item, but there are essentially no side paths to go and explore. For the plot line, literally all you can do is go to the next area, watch a cut scene, (OH, there are many, many of them), and battle, battle battle. Repeat. For 30+ hours.

This is where the game falls flat on its face, and can't get up again. At first, you will be dazzled by the special effects of the game, and you won't even notice that all you are doing is pushing the joy stick forward and battling. But about three hours in, you'll realize that's all you are doing. Walk. Watch Cut Scene. KILL. You can't even walk into a shop to buy something. You see, there are no shops outside save point digital stores. There aren't really any people to talk to outside cut scenes, because you'll be mostly alone in robot factories, fighting....robots. Did I mention there are a lot of robots? 

Later, when you reach Gran Pulse, you'll get to ride CHOCOBOS! (Omg omg omg), but that will be more than half way through the game, at which point you may have given up already. I dropped the game for a bit before I finally got there.

So yeah, great battle design. But for game play-again, variation-, this is the most linear game I have ever played.

PLOT:

Final Fantasy XIII is a game about people trying to set things to what they believe is right, and to also be accepted at the same time. The characters have been marked as l'cie, which are apparently monsters that are to be destroyed. Luckily, being a l'cie has its benefits such as shooting fire from your fingertips, so it isn't the worst thing to be as you truck through robot factories on you way to save the world. The problem? The l'cie have been given orders to destroy the human world, and if they don't do it, they will be turned into hideous monsters! Conflict!

I have just stated the plot as simply as I could just now. Really, it wasn't until the end that I had any idea of what's going on. I was getting terms and ideas mixed up left and right. It wasn't the plot that was confusing, it was the world that was confusing. You see, there are several terms that you need to be familiar with to understand the game. Terms such as l'cie. There are several aspects of the game plot wise to learn so you know what is going on. The game teaches you these terms by throwing them in your face.

At the beginning of the game, I was assaulted with terms like Pulse l'cie, Pulse fal'cie, and let's not forget, i'cie. That was within the first hour, and trust me, I was confused. Apparently, fal'cie are good. Unless they are Pulse fal'cie. In that case, you should kill them. L'cie are human until the turn into i'cie, which are demon monster things. Both are considered evil. Got that? You probably did. I only got them straight after hours of playing. Lets not forget all of those divisions of the armies. Some are good, some are bad, some have nothing to do with the plot. Yay! So much to remember with the first couple hours.

The lore of this game is very, very interesting. They just expected me to know it right away and get on with the game, which I didn't. The terms could have been introduced in a much softer way, and the fact that they didn't,  hurt the overall game.

On the in game menu, you have the option of looking at a plot log that tells you what happened in the game thus far. It helps keep things straight, but I think it is a lazy touch because if the programmers just did a cleaner job, I wouldn't be scratching my head right now and needing a log.

Overall, the plot is very nice. It just could have been executed better. It repeats itself a lot, which seems to be a problem with the overall game.

CHARACTERS;

The characters range from interesting to obnoxious. I'll give an example here:


INTERESTING:We have the main character Lightning. I love her. I really do. She's cool and she wears clothes that completely cover her body. What's not to like? She's actually the most original of the group, and I had her with me for the entire game out of choice. She's my favorite part of the game, next to the battle system.

OBNOXIOUS: Then we have...Snow. Snow is the only final fantasy character that I have wanted to murder. Snow could have been done well, but the creators got lazy and limited his volcabulary to two words, Serah and Hero. (Serah is his fiance) They could have made him interesting to watch, but they limited his actions to fist pumping and smacking his fists. He runs around, parading about, declaring his love for his fiance. If he is feeling down, he will give a speech. And not just any speech. A five minute speech. About love and hope and all of that crud.

All the other characters blend into the background, really. We have Hope, who is my second favorite for his character development, but he is too a bit cliche. By the end, you've grown a little attached to them, but they were little more than just vessels for telling a plot, when characters should be so much more than that.


LASTING APPEAL:
The above seems a little mean, I know. But I did play this game for 40 hours so obviously it has lasting appeal. The characters, while cliche and typical, are interesting enough to keep the plot churning till the end. The side quests, while limited to slashing and bashing, are really fun, and there are about a hundred of them. It's just that you probably won't want to play this game again, because once you've played the story through, there isn't much to go back to.

TALLY

Graphics: Lovely, and while sometimes redundant, a joy to watch. 10/10
Game play: Fun battle system but linear game play hurt this Final Fantasy. 6/10
 Plot: Interesting and confusing. 7/10
Characters: Cliche but well done. 8/10
Lasting appeal: After you beat it you probably won't want to side quest. 5/10


OVERALL:

A great game, but a bad Final Fantasy. This game lacks the diversity to hold its own to the rest of the series.

7/10

____

For those who took the time to read this monster, thanks.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

COMICZ!

It was a boring day in September and I was lying on my couch thinking of the little sad things in life. (I enjoy thinking of sad things.) I thought of many sad things. I thought of puppies with three legs and gnomes that had lost their pointy hats. I thought of little packages that have not been tied up with strings, and all the times a blind person loses his car keys. The thing that triggered today's blog post, however, is this:

Money.

Mmkay, so my family is not the poorest in the world. We get what we need, but we don't actually have cash for the extra things in life like net books and PS3s. (I want to play Final Fantasy Verses XIII, okay?) Before you think I am a newb, I am not a materialistic person. It would just be nice to have some extra dough in your pocket so you can do special things with your family. That's my reasoning anyway. So I decided to find some way to get money and fast. . .

Dog walking? All the dog's in my neighborhood are strays.
Cat bathing? Too lethal.
Blind person's key finder? Nah.
Cake baker? Too dishonest.

What, do you think I'm lazy? Well, I'm not!

Finally, it hit me. There IS a way to make money and fast! I was looking through the daily comic strips when it hit me: comic book strip writers make money for doing hardly anything at all! Look at Garfield, for instance. Those comics (while decent in the past) are quite useless now! They are about nothing! Sometimes they don't even have a punch line that makes sense, but the public eats it up for some reason. The Garfield Guy makes a lot of money from doing nothing, so what about me? I can be lazy and efficient.

I will be the best useless comic strip writer of all time.

I examined Garfield's selling formula and melted it down into several basic concepts. I deducted that there are three things about that comic strip that make it sell:

1. It has a cute animal starring in it.

2. Its simple-minded interface makes it accessible to people of any mental integrity.

3. The constant accidents that some main characters get into makes people happy, because people grow off of the mindless suffering of others!


If my comic strip had all of the above, I could get rich in no time, so I got off to work. Soon, I came up with this:




This is the perfect comic strip. It has all of the qualities a top selling comic strip should have. Note the cute flying pig appearing in two of the panels. He is my adorable mascot, and while he doesn't actually serve any purpose in the strip, he does attract the audience who has a soft spot for pigs and cute things.

Second, note the limited vocabulary of the stick figures. They talk simply, so people don't have to use their brain to figure out the strip.

Third, the characters have just had a horrible mishap, which is great because readers love that.


After a while, the readers will forget why they are reading my strip, but out of habit they keep reading it anyway. Using this to my advantage, I will slowly get rid of any of the good art I had in my older comics, and basically just have my stick figures stand around talking about something funny. So I'll do something like this:






Eventually, people won't even care if I have a punchline! Out of mind numbing habit, they won't even care if my comic has a shred of goodness in it. At this point, I will be a millionaire, and not caring what the public thinks, I will make comics like this:





I will be rich for sure, won't I? I better get started right away!
(EDIT: I submitted my comics to the daily newspaper. I was rejected.)

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Haiku frenzy!

Hey folks, did ya miss me? I'm sure you did. I've been gone for like three days, right?

Anyway, today's post is going to be a very special one! Special I say!

RANDOM DUDE: Oh brilliant..

Shut up, Random Dude.

Anyway, I was rather depressed the day before. I was all cooped up in my room and everything. To make myself feel better, I decided to write poetry. (To the emos: I understand you now!) But not just any poetry...I wrote haikus! About twenty of them, too.

You all know what a haiku is, but to refresh your memory, a haiku is a poem of Japanese origin that consists of seventeen syllables. Five syllables for the first line, seven for the second line, and five at the bottom line. Haikus are generally about nature and all the little aspects about it. It's a restricting yet refreshing form of poetry, and I enjoy it. The only issue is that I kind of stink at it.

Okay, "stink" is an understatement.

But I was trying REALLY hard to write some good haikus yesterday, so I would like to tell you about my Haiku Marathon. Here it is:




It started when I sat at my computer. I decided instead of writing something hard like a play, I would write a haiku. Inspired by a picture of a butterfly, I began with....

Butterfly

cocoon breaks open wide
innocent butterfly soars
into tangled webs

Of course, by now I realized how addicting writing haikus is, so I wrote another.

Rose

the perfect flower
shall bend its head in goodbye
pink petal falls

And another..

Born

child breathes in deep
it clings to its first moments
determined to live

I wrote some others, too, but these are the "best". Anyway, I was feeling pretty good about myself so I decided to read some of my haikus to my sister. So I trotted up to her, smiling and hoping she would like them. This is what happened:

ME: Hey, sis, want to hear a haiku I wrote?

SIS: Sure, whatever.

(I read the haiku)

SIS: Oh my gosh! These are terrible! I want to vomit!

ME: ... (stalks off)


Let's just say that my heart was broken. And after your heart breaks, your writing goes into all out angry mode. In an revengeful act against my sister's cruel words, I wrote the following haiku.

Vomit

it is a strange green
and it is carefully strewn
all over my haikus

I read it to her. She freaked out, but laughed a lot. It was then I realized how much fun it is to write goofy haikus! Please enjoy some of the goofy haikus I wrote below! Some even have notes attached to them. Read those too.

___

Esther's Haikus

merciful raccoons!
it is without a mere doubt.
my haikus stink

(Written because it is true. :)
___

Vomit

it is a strange green
and it is carefully strewn
over my haikus

(This one fidge be my favorite.)
___

Guinea Pigs

they are cute and moist
don't ask me where they got moist
you don't want to know

(You don't...)
___

My Cat Tifa

slowly turns her head
and regards you all wide eyed
she is such a freak
__

Oops

I did it again
I played with your little heart
I'm not innocent
__

Oh CRUD

A large car hits me
followed by a large moose
I dodge the large bear

(I was running low on haiku ideas by this point.)
__

Monty Python

It's just a flesh wound
ignore me and trot away
smacking coconuts

(:-D)
___


Halo

I grab my fancy gun
I destroy the covenant
I died sixty times

(More than that, actually.)
_

Final Fantasy

Final Fantasy
it's a game that never ends
despite the "final".

(Haven't you wondered this?)
__
(This one is a complicated reference to an anime but I'll but it here anyway)

Chimp

Chimp thinks he is Moses
and hovers around spectacularly
I want to slap him

(from the anime, My Bride is a Mermaid!)
__

Well, there you go! Did any of them make you laugh? Which one was your favorite? Tell me which one was your favorite in the comments and I will give you a hugggg... Double points to those who comment in haiku form.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Writing Prompt Week: Day Seven

Welcome all to the final hour of writing prompt week. It's been a good one, hasn't it? You may notice that I am writing this at 10:15 PM on a Saturday night. This is because I am lazy and therefor preoccupied myself with reading for the majority of the day. Now, let's activate the RANDOMIZER!

...77!

Let's see what the prompt says:

Think of a product that you wouldn't be caught dead using. The company who makes that product plans to stop its production. Write a strong letter to that company and convince them not to take that product off the market.

Hee hee! This could be fun. I think I'll do an imaginary "product" that I've tried to convince someone to buy with a friend of mine. Let's go!

____

To whom it may concern at Lazy Inc,

Hello, I am Esther P. It has come to my attention that you plan on ceasing the production of your number one selling product, the Lazy-lite. In my opinion, this is a poorly executed plan on your part. Not only does the Lazy-lite offer many marketing opportunities, its cheap and easy to manufacture. Getting rid of it would be suicide for your small company in this crumbling economy.

We all know what the lazy lite is: It is a candle that you can light with a press of a button. Not only does this appeals to the lazy, it appeals to the spirtophobiacs all over the world. To appeal to the phobics all over the world is necessary to survive in today's economy and prevent global warming.

For your benefit, I have carefully listed the good qualities of the lazy-lite in hope that you will notice them. I assure you, the good qualities quite over weigh the potentially life threatening ones by one fourth times. In today's economy, that's a good thing.

Firstly, it is a product rich in history. Invented by Walt Lighterson in 1999, this little gadget has been around forever. If we let the world know that the lazy lite is tried and true, they will flock to buy it. It will sell even more if we leave out the part where Walt L. died horribly in a fire. After all, tragic stories are bad for the environment, the children in Africa, and the economy.

Secondly, it can be used for many different things. The intensity of the flame lazy lite creates can be adjusted, making it valuable for many different excursions. Here's an example. You and a rival neighbor are trying to build a fire in the woods. While he tries to use flint, you can just pull out your lazy lite, set it to "inferno" and light a whole tree! Its fire power is fantastic.

You will, of course, have some legal papers drawn that say you are not responsible for any deaths that the lazy lite will cause. Obviously, it is not the gun but the man that wields it that doth do destruction, correct? Legal papers should be made immediately. Your company gets sued a lot, which doesn't make much sense to me. Deal with it though. Suing is bad for the economy. It's also bad for the environment because it wastes paper.

You now see that the lazy lite has its benefits. You must also see that it has its downsides, but with correct marketing these can be resolved. I'm not talking about revamping your product. That would cost money, mister. Just show all the things lazy lite can do and you'll be dandy. After all, the starving children in Africa won't buy it if they think it is a lousy product.

Of course how can you sell a product that has had a bad "past", so to speak? Sure, because of it you have been sued, sentenced for manslaughter, forced to stop global warming and all that junk, but trust me, who would remember stuff like that? People will forget that the lazy lite has had some "issues". It's what they do. The people who do remember will buy it anyway because they'll like to say they had an "experience" with the lazy lite.

So, long story short:

Lazy lite is good for the economy.

It will feed the starving children in Africa.

It will help people that buy it.

And possibly kill people that won't.

One word: Keep making this.

Sincerely,

Esther P.

____

There you go! The final entry of the week. I hope you enjoyed not only this piece but all of the things I wrote in general. It's helped me disipline myself, and even increase my monthly word count. (Yes, I do have one of those) This week , on my blog alone, I've written over 6,000 words. That's a lot, and hopefully you read them all! So, I'm closing this week with a tearful goodbye. Thanks for readin'.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Writing Prompt Week: Day Six.

It's writing prompt week, day six. Everyone, pick up sticks!

This week is almost over now. It went pretty fast, didn't it? Last night's story was a long one. 2,000 words! Let's see if today's prompt requires me to be shorter.

Activating the RANDOMIZER!

...221! (I had to skip the first number I got because it required me to write over a week's time.)

Let's see what my prompt is.

Put a used car salesman, a banker, and a movie addict in a bus. Add a flat tire and an empty window seat. One of them starts laughing hysterically. Write out the scene.

Hmm..mmkay. Not shorter. I'm feeling kind of scripty today so I am going to make this a script! You mind? Of course you don't. Here. We. Goooooo....


(A greyhound bus is shown traveling down a busy street. The song "Slow Ride" can be heard playing. The camera pans to a sharp object on the street. The bus drives over it, popping its tire. The bus pulls into a nearby gas station.)

DRIVER: (Gets out of bus) Woooheee! (Looks at flat tire) that's the flattest tire I've ever seen.

GAS STATION GUY: Is there a problem, mister?

DRIVER: Sure is. Do you think you have a big tire lyin' about? This here one's dead.

GSG: We'll see. Let's take a look...

(Scene cuts inside of the bus. MOVIE ADDICT and BANKER are sharing the same seat.)

MOVIE ADDICT: (Laughs hysterically) Oh, ha! That's funny stuff!

BANKER: What are you laughing at? This is a catastraphe! I'm going to be late for my job.

MOVIE ADDICT: I'm just remembering a movie I saw yesterday. It's called, Banana Splits. Ha! Isn't that a funny name?

BANKER: ...No, it isn't.

CAR SALESMAN: (turns around in his seat) Hey, what are you two laughing at?

BANKER: He's laughing. I'm not.

MOVIE ADDICT: Well, there's this movie I saw yesterday. It's hilarious. The story is about a girl named Banana and she splits! (Laughs)

CAR SALESMAN: Wow, my stunningly attractive young friend, that is pretty funny. And let me tell you I know about funny. Some of the funniest moments can be spent in your car.

MOVIE ADDICT: Really? I don't have a car. I just ride the bus-

CAR SALESMAN: Yes sir, nothing is better than a car. Nothing's better than a used car, actually. Listen, I know a guy who can sell you the best and the cheapest car alive.

MOVIE ADDICT: (Excitedly) Really?! Who!?

CAR SALESMAN: Me! It's me young sir! How about it?

MOVIE ADDICT: I don't know...how much?

BANKER: I can't believe you are trying to sell a man a car in the middle of a disaster like this. I don't have time for you two talking. I have to get to the First National Bank so I don't lose my job.

CAR SALESMAN: (Pulls banker aside) A banker, eh? A used car salesman and a banker are like two peas in a pod! We both do our best to make a good profit. Why don't you join up with me and scam the innocent pants of that movie goer, huh?

BANKER: You're not my my brethren pea! I have to find a ride. Maybe a cab or something.

MOVIE ADDICT: This kind of reminds me of a scene from a movie I watched. Ah, I remember. It was called, The Used Car Salesman, the Banker, and the Movie Addict and Their Adventures on a Rundown Bus!

(Silence. The two men look at movie addict.)

BANKER: There's a movie called that?

MOVIE ADDICT: Either that, or I'm confusing my life with the movies. But since the movies are my life, I doubt that's possible. Say, are you going to First National? That's right next to the movie theater! Can I go with you?

BANKER: Sure, I don't see why not. Let's go.

CAR SALESMAN: Wait, don't either of you want to buy a car?

BANKER and MOVIE ADDICT: I'll pass.

(The two men get off the bus. The CAR SALESMAN smiles. We can now hear the CAR SALESMAN's thoughts.)

CAR SALESMAN: (thinking) Ha, I won't lose a sale that easily.

(BANKER and MOVIE ADDICT find a cab. BANKER waves for it.)

BANKER: Hey, taxi!

(Cab pulls up to the gas station curb and the two men get in.)

MOVIE ADDICT: First National Bank on Moolah street please.

CAB DRIVER?: (In a scratchy voice) Okey dokey, my stunningly attractive young friend.

BANKER: Wait, I know that speech pattern! (Pulls CAB DRIVER around.) You're that car salesman!

CAR SALESMAN: Oh yes, did I forget to mention I'm a cab driver?

BANKER: A cab driver who rides the bus?

CAR SALESMAN: I was on lunch!

(BANKER and MOVIE ADDICT exchange looks, then shake their heads.)

MOVIE ADDICT: I think we should trust him! Cab drivers are good people. I know because I watched that one movie called Cab Drivers Are Good People.

BANKER: Yeah, I'm sure he's a real cab driver.

(Scene cuts to a building next the the gas station. The building has a sign saying "Cab Cars INC. Rent one today!" An unconsious cab driver is seen. Scene cuts back to the cab.)

SALESMAN: (whilst driving) Now, my stunningly attractive young friends, I'm sure it's a little tiring riding cabs and buses all the time. That's no way for a successful banker and a charming movie goer to hang around.

BANKER: I'm not successful yet. And listen, we are not interested in buying a car-

SALESMAN: Oh yes, can you imagine it now? Driving along the streets in a brand new camaro. (Quickly and silently) Well, not so new because it's used. (loudly again) Imagine all the babes you could get with a fancy car.

ADDICT: I LIKE babes.

BANKER: Don't fall to the darkside, kid!

SALESMAN: We even have a deal back at the lot. Buy a car, get a few cookies.

ADDICT: Oh my, the dark side has cookies.

SALESMAN: Why don't I take you back to the used car lot and let you pick out something. (Turns cab around)

BANKER: Stop this cab! We have no intention of buying a car!

SALESMAN: But what does your heart say?

ADDICT: Okay, that was pushing it. (Opens cab door.)

SALESMAN: Hey, what are you doing? (Accelerates cab)

ADDICT: Doing something I've wanted to do for a long time...(grabs BANKER and jumps out of the cab)

(The two land in a pile of trash bags. BANKER sits up and spits out a banana peel.)

ADDICT: Looks like we gave him the slip. And look, we landed in front of a new car lot.

BANKER: Great, not only am I late for work, I smell like a garbage bin. At least I am alive. Where did you learn that move?

ADDICT: Car Jumpers Gone Wild.

BANKER: Riiight...see you.

ADDICT: Wait, don't leave me alone with the car salesman. They come back. They always come back.

BANKER: I have to get to work.

ADDICT: But Banker dude-

BANKER: He'd have to give up by now anyway. Nobody is that insane.

(Scene cuts to SALESMAN inside the cab.)

SALESMAN: I have to sell a car. If I don't then I'll go insane. (Drives car up to the curb where BANKER and ADDICT are standing. He opens the trunk.) Here it goes!( Puts car into reverse and rams into the BANKER. BANKER falls into the open trunk. SALESMAN closes the trunk with a push of a button and drives away.)

BANKER: (inside trunk.)(calmly) Great, now I'm totally late for work.

ADDICT: Banker dude!

SALESMAN: (driving away) That was easy. Now all I have to do is get to the car lot and show that banker who's boss! I smell a raise! I only wish they would have been more cooperative. This was a hard day's work-eh, what was that?

(A brand new, shiny red car pulls up alongside cab. MOVIE ADDICT is inside.)

SALESMAN: A new car? Get that thing away!

(Camera cuts to MOVIE ADDICT.)

MOVIE ADDICT: Hasta la vista, baby. (Rams car into the CAR SALESMAN's)

(Cab flips over. The trunk pops open and BANKER crawls out.)

BANKER: Oh, geez. Could you have done that a little less hard?

MOVIE ADDICT: No.

(SALESMAN crawls out.)

SALESMAN: All I wanted to do was sell a car to you stunningly handsome young men.

MOVIE ADDICT: I just got a car. And guess what, it's new.

SALESMAN: Nooo! (faints)

BANKER: Well, this was the creepiest day of my life.

MOVIE ADDICT: This guy was pretty slick, but he should know that the good guys always win. I should know, because I watched a movie called-

BANKER: Let me guess, The Good Guys Always Win?

MOVIE ADDICT: How did you know?

(CREDITS)

_______

Well, there you go! What do you think of it? Tune in tomorrow for the final writing prompt day.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Writing Prompt Week: Day Five

It's day five and I'm still alive. What fun prompt shall I be doing today, I wonder? I hope it won't be too difficult...I am not feeling very inspired today.

We all know what's goin' on here right? Yeah, you do.

Activating the RANDOMIZER!

...321! Let's see what the prompt says to do.

Amy Tidwell and Jason Engler meet on a plane. One of them becomes resigned to his or her fate.

...! Remember when I wished this wasn't going to be difficult!? Oh well. Here I go.

__

"You are now free to move about the cabin," the voice over the speaker announced.

Jason Engler slowly released his sweaty and tight grip from the arm of his passenger chair. He sunk back in his seat and let out a weary sigh, wiping some sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

He was alive. The plane had not burst into flames as it had taken off as he had so feared. All he had to worry about was trying not to notice how darn high up he was. Jason was afraid of heights and complex machines like planes, but these weren't the only reasons he was on his guard. He had been running for so long he wasn't sure if he was still being followed, but fear attacked him on every turn. A boy ran down the isle.


"Catch me if you can, Daddy!" the boy shouted.

The words words were not intended for Jason, but they bounced around in his mind, rang in his ears, and made his throat tighten.

"It's not my fault," Jason muttered, shaking his head and clenching the paper, "it's not my fault."

A clear image appeared in his mind. A boy with brown hair and blue eyes, dripping wet and shivering, but happy anyway, was all Jason could see for a small moment. A gunshot rang in his ears, but only he heard it. The image dissipated.

"Um, excuse me, is this seat taken?" a voice said. Jason turned his head to see a young woman. She was wearing a blue hat which shadowed her eyes. "I am sitting next to an old guy and he's snoring up a storm. It's driving me mad!"

Jason patted the empty seat next to him.

"Go ahead." he said.

The girl nodded and sat down. She straightened her dress and tried to settle down, only to discover that she wasn't comfortable and changed her sitting position. Jason noticed her fidgeting.

"Nervous?" he asked, happy to know that he wasn't the only frazzled person on the plane.

"Oh, yes,"she answered, "very much so. I am going to California. Well, you already know that since you're on the plane too, don't you?" She let out a small giggle. "I'm getting married there. I'm nervous and excited at the same time, you know?"

"I understand, yes," Jason answered. His eyes clouded over and he thought back to his own wedding day.

She was wearing a green wedding dress, because she was totally resistant to anything old fashioned. She had thus forced him to wear blue, the ugliest shade that he had ever seen, so that he wouldn't fit in along with her. He had been embarrassed for other people to see him.

"You shouldn't worry about what other people think today. Today is all about us. Besides, it makes your blue eyes pop, don't you think?"

"Are you okay, mister?" the girl asked.

Jason jumped in his seat.

"Oh, yes, I'm okay. What did you say your name was?"

The girl paused for a second as if she were thinking but then answered, "Amy, Amy Tidwell. Are you sure you are all right? Are you nervous too?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Why?"

"Hard to say, really. Enough about me. What are your plans going to be in California?"

The girl smiled dreamily and reclined into her seat.

"I plan to be happy for the rest of my life. My fiance is such a good man. He says he wants children right away-oh, I guess that's a little personal, isn't it? But I take it you like children, don't you?"

A pang of guilt shocked Jason's heart. His breathing came quickly and in small gasps as a vivid picture played in his mind.

It was a hot day in July. People swimming in a pool. A little boy asking for a towel.

Bang!

"It's not my fault!" Jason's arms prickled and he started tapping his foot restlessly. It was was so hot to him. Hot like like a summer day. He waved to a flight attendant.

"Water," he said simply.

The flight attendant nodded.

"Would you like anything else?" the attendant asked.

"Just get me some water!" he screamed. He was so angry. He wanted to wrap his hands around the attendant's throat, let her know how angry he was. Amy was calm. It made him madder that she didn't seem to notice how mad he felt. The attendant came back with the water and Jason snatched it of her hand. His hand was shaking badly so the water was flying in several directions before he brought it to his lips. With his other hand he reached in his bag and pulled out a pill bottle. The bottle said to take one. He took three.

"Why are you so angry? All you ever are is angry. I'm leaving, Jason."

Amy looked straight ahead, not minding him.

"Aren't you scared? Don't you want to leave this seat?" Jason said through clenched teeth.

"No, I know how you feel. You feel angry a lot, don't you? I understand."

It was more than that. Jason had written it off as just anger but it was so much more than that. He had a disorder and he knew it now. It was IED. Intermittent Explosive Disorder. He even had pills for it. But they didn't matter to him. They had come too late.

"My fiance has anger management issues, so I know how you feel. I know that he loves me though and forgives me. And I forgive him. We've been through bad spells, but love always powers through."

"Bad doesn't even cover it," Jason said to himself. He closed his eyes and let the misery sink in. He wondered how long he had been running. Probably since the fourth of July, a hot day spent near the pool.

A woman is in a house. She is holding a tray of watermelon. She smiles at a man and asks him to take a pitcher of lemonade outside. She asks him to tell her how his day went.

"I was fired," he says.

She puts the tray down and tries to console him. It doesn't work. She tries to hug and hold him. It doesn't work. He curses her. He yells at her.

"It would be so much easier without you," he says. "I'm not happy anymore."

He smacks the tray out of her hands and throws the pitcher to the ground. He approaches the woman. She grabs a knife and backs away, scowling.

"You're angry! You're always angry! I've tried but I can't take it anymore!" She pulls up her sleeve, revealing bruises."I'm taking John and I'm leaving, Jason."

No, you can't leave, he thinks.

"John is my son! He's my son, why can't I have him?"

"You can have him when your stable."

"Hey, are you asleep?"

"Eh?"

Jason opened his eyes. Amy was looking at him, worry lining her face. Jason rubbed his temple and shook his head.

"Amy, what if you did something horrible? Something you could never undo. Something that you've been running away from for a long time?"

Amy put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"I'd stop running and face what I'd have to face," she said silently. "After all, I can't imagine living with guilt all the time, you know?"

Jason nodded.


"I think..I think you're right. I will."

He wiped at his eyes. Amy stood up.

"The plane has landed." she said.

Jason stood up, but it took some effort. More than a part of him wanted to sink back in his chair and not wake up for a long time. He felt old, but he also felt certain. But mostly he felt tired.He grabbed his only bag, the one that had held so many things for him during all the years he had been running away. He walked down the isle meticulously like a sentenced man on his way to the electric chair.

"Where are you going?" Amy asked.

"To the police station." Jason said sardonically. He walked out of the plane and past the people. He saw a little boy with blue eyes and brown hair walk alongside him, but Jason knew the boy wasn't really there. Not anymore.

He left the plane and walked through the airport. He walked slowly by a young man embracing his mother.

Angry. Don't leave me. If I can't have you...so mad!

Jason's pace quickened.

He storms outside. He has a gun. A boy with eyes just like his father's comes up to him. He's dripping wet from the pool.

The giddy screams of playing children startled him into walking faster.

"Daddy, can I have a towel?"


He ran into the airport's bathroom, gasping for air. There didn't seem to be enough of it.

Shouldn't do this...shouldn't do this...but it's your fault for leaving me!

He splashed cold water in his face, sobbing. "I love you," he gasped.

"I love you," the man says.

Bang!

Jason let the tears fall freely. For all he knew they would be his last. He left for the police station. Amy was still on the empty plane. She had not intention of going to California. She pulled out a phone and dialed a number. A grisly voice answered the phone.

"Hello, detective Brown speaking?"

The girl smiled and said,

"This is agent Carter. The plan was a success. Engler is heading your way."

She shut the phone and took a look out of the window. She shook her head and sat down again, letting out a repressed sigh.

"Poor little man."



_____

Well, that was interesting! Certainly the longest piece so far. What do you think of it? Comments? It's pretty rough because it isn't edited, but I kind of like it. Tune in tomorrow, people!

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Writing Prompt Week: Day Four



It's day four already! We're half way there.

Yesterday's piece was an interesting example of what could go wrong when you accept a certified person's help. It was the longest one yet. Let's see today's prompt, shall we?

Activating the RANDOMIZER!

...11! Let's see what the prompt says:

Below are three sets of words. Use all the words in each set to create a mini story of 300 words or less.

Set one: paper clips, principal, swing, girl with a pink ribbon.

Set two: biology, foreign student, leaf, blood sample.

Set three: type writer, filing cabinet, puncher, clerk, carbon paper, janitor.

So I'm writing three different stories? Ah, so today I will be writing microfiction. I've never written microfiction before. Microfiction is generally below 300 words, as said above. Because of its length, it is very, very hard to write good microfiction. The market for it is growing, however. Magazines, especially ones about writing, are interested in it. This will be fun! Let's begin!

___
Story one, set one. (paper clips, principal, swing, girl with a pink ribbon)

Alone.


It was a cold, bitter day as the little girl sat unmoving on a swing, waiting, her pink ribbon fluttering limply in the wind. She had been waiting for them, arms open and their gazes warm. A man dressed in a suit approached her; she recognized him as the principal with his fancy suit and wiry hair. In his hand he held a small bundle of paper held together by a red paperclip. He stood by her silently and handed her the paper so she could read it herself. She read them then threw them away, shaking her head furiously, tears building in her eyes. Images of a man and woman holding her and smiling burned in her mind. The principal patted her back.

"You can stop waiting Anna," he said, "they won't be here to pick you up from school anymore."

____

Story two, word set two.(biology, foreign student, leaf, blood sample.)

Found him?

It had been eight years. Eight years without sight of his father, eight years of nervousness. Now Kei was positive that this was the man he had been waiting for in this school building; his very own father. A leaf fell slowly to the ground and Kei grabbed and examined it. He chuckled. The gently falling leaves here reminded him of the cherry blossoms back home in Japan. He let out an even louder laugh when he realized that he, now a foreign exchange student for Pete's sake, had come all the way to America just to see if this mystery man was truly his father. He was quite positive that he was. Their DNA from the blood sample matched completely.

Kei's fists clenched as he approached the classroom door. His "father" supposedly taught biology.

What if all of this was for nothing? He's been hiding for years, what if he doesn't even know me?

Kei took a shuddering breath and entered the room. A slender Japanese man turned his head at the sound of the door and looked at Kei. He removed his glasses from his aging face and rubbed his eyes.

"Dad?" Kei said.

"Kei?" the man said. Tears sprung up in the old man's eyes and he ran to embrace his son. "It's you. It's my boy. I've found my boy."

____


Story three, word set three,
(type writer, filing cabinet, puncher, clerk, carbon paper, janitor.)

Work For It.

Clack, clack, clack, went the old typewriter. The sound was accompanied by the sound of a file cabinet opening and closing. These were all sounds that the janitor of Paper Inc. was very used to. Every day was the same old thing, nothing new, nothing changing. No matter how long he waited, nothing ever good happened to him. Not a good enough girl,not a good enough job, nothing ever came to him. He had waited so long for something special, because he knew that he deserved it. But while others got a diploma and others became famous, he still remained as poor as ever. He stopped in the middle of his mopping of the girl's bathroom to let out a sigh.

"Why can't something good happen to me?" he said.

A young clerk walked into the bathroom just at that moment.

"What is up with that guy and his carbon paper-Oh, sorry! I didn't know you were cleaning in here." she said. "What's wrong with you?"

"I don't have a good life," the janitor complained.

The girl paused then smiled. Knowingly she opened her mouth and said,

"Did you ever actually try to get one?"

_________


Well there you have it folks, three different stories! I had a lot of fun with this one. Did you like any of them in particular? Did some not make so much sense? Looking back all of them are a little crazy. Tune in tomorrow for some more writing fun!

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Writing Prompt Week: Day Three

Hello and welcome to the third day of writing prompt week! And I'm sure it's going to be an exciting one! Yesterday I was feeling a little floopy, but now I feel as right as rain so this is sure to be an exciting adventure for you and for me.

I think we all know the rules by now. (Get the prompt, follow the directions, no editing.)

Let's activate the RANDOMATOR!

115! Let's see what it says.

"Here is a 90 second drill: In ninety seconds make a list of objects that you would find in a hospital. When the ninety seconds are up, use all the objects you listed in a story, except the story can not take place in or near a hospital."


Sounds challenging! I bet I can make a list of things in a hospital easily though.

Hospital bed.

syringe

waiting room.

blood pressure thingy

nurse

....Okay. That is the smallest list I've ever seen... I have to go with it though. Here I go!


It had been an accident. No one had expected it to happen. It was something that the people thought would never happen. This injured bullfighter was a professional, and had never once had a scar.

Rodger Dye lay face up on the freshly trodden dirt of the bull fighting arena, trying not to faint from the lack of blood and seem more pathetic than he did right then.

The people at the arena offered to take him to the closest medical facility, but Rodger demanded that the professionals be brought to him.

It was high noon and the sun blinded him, but he just stayed there, waiting for help to arrive. A large shadow fell over him and he looked up to see a muscular man gazing at him.

"What, haven't you ever seen a man gored by a bull before?" Rodger said testily.

The man shook his head and bent down to examine Rodger's wounds.

"I have, but I haven't seen a man gored by two different bulls before. You're special, man. How on earth could you manage to do that?"

"Listen, I don't know who you are, but I'm bleeding to death here. The least you could do is send for a doctor or something."

The man straightened and said proudly, "I am a doctor!"

Rodger grinned and sat up, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. He didn't want to see the bull horn that was embedded in it.

"Great," Rodger said, "finally someone certified to help me."

"Well, actually, I'm not a doctor really. I'm a nurse."

"Aren't you a little too masculine to be a nurse?"

Rodger knew he had triggered something in the tall nurse's soul when he said that. The nurse put his hands on his hips and glared at Rodger with his eye. The other eye was covered with an eye patch.

"Listen, bub. Guys can be nurses too. In fact, they make better nurses. This is a free country isn't it? The nerve of some people. Why, in my day..." the nurse trailed off into a long, long rant. It was boring, too, so Rodger stopped paying attention after five minutes and started counting his wounds.

He had a bull horn in each shoulder, each from a different bull. Somehow Pete and Sweet the bulls got out at simultaneously attacked Rodger. Rodger had never before been injured in a bullfight. He was covered in scratches, all of them bleeding profusely. As the nurse drawled on, Rodger counted the little red specks that were dancing around his eyes.

"Oooh...pretty," Rodger said dreamily.

The nurse snapped back into reality and gasped.

"Oh no! You're bleeding to death!"

"Yeah, I know. Some assistance, please?"

"Okay, okay, no worries. I have this covered. First, I have to go through all of the basics!" the nurse said.

"The basics!?"

"Yes, first I have to take your blood pressure with this blood pressure...thingy."

"Thingy? Listen, I barely have any blood left."

The nurse ignored this and wrapped the lengthy device around Rodger's arm. An alarmed look spread over the nurse's scarred face.

"Oh no, your blood pressure is low!"

Rodger didn't answer. He didn't have the strength to. All he could think was, Oh God, I'm going to die because a nurse who looks like someone out of Rambo is going through all of the 'basics'. He felt something sharp jab into his arm and let out a cry. The nurse chuckled and pulled the syringe out of Rodger's arm.

"Don't worry, I'm just taking a blood sample," the nurse said.

Rodger no longer felt light headed. He felt pretty close to dead.

"I...need to go to a...Are you sure a professional?" Rodger gasped.

The nurse put a hand over his heart.

"Of course. I got my Nurse Certificate from some old sage guy in Korea."

"Sage guy..?"

"They are the forefathers of medicine you know. It took me a while to get the certificate from him, but after I held him at knife point for a while he drew me out one lickity split!" The nurse held up a crumpled napkin that read, "Certified, Nurse" in pencil.

Rodger let out a groan before everything faded to black.


Rodger woke up, startled at the fact that he was not dead. His eyes struggled to focus, however, so he relied on the sounds and smells around him to tell him where he was. The sound of a fire, warm and comforting. The smell of freshly baked cookies. The sound of a knife being sharpened. All warm, comforting thin-

Rodger bolted up and looked around himself. He saw that he was in a hut constructed of bamboo, with a fire blazing in the middle. He knew that he was lying in a hospital bed, but no other hospital like things in sight. Pictures hung on the wall. Pictures of Nurse doing things like gutting a pig, wrestling a bear, and saving a marine from a pipe bomb. The nurse himself was in a corner, sharpening his knife. He looked up and smiled at Rodger. The nurse had lost quite a few teeth.

"Glad to see you're alive-er-awake!"

"Where the heck am I?"

"You're in my house. I brought you here because it was close. It's comforting, isn't it?"

If guns on the walls and knives being sharpened was considered comforting, then this had to be the most comforting place in the world.

"Let me go," Rodger said.

"No problem! You'll just have to sit in the waiting room while I get your form signed." The nurse motioned to a chair in the corner of the hut covered in suspicious magazines. Rodger limped over, his fear masking his pain.

Who is this guy, Rodger thought, an assassin? A loon? A crook? Whoever he is, I am never going to ask for professional help again!

The nurse stamped a piece of paper and handed it to him.

"You're free to go!"

The paper read,

"You're free to go. Signed, Nurse. AKA. Horton Hughs, the greatest soldier of all time."

___

Well there you go! That was certainly an odd story. Comment are appreciated and tune in tomorrow for another prompt!





Monday, August 2, 2010

Writing Prompt Week: Day Two

Hello all and welcome to day two of writing prompt week! (Ignore the fact that the date for the previous post was off.)

Yesterday was certainly an exciting day for writing, was it not? Sure, I may have gone a little overboard with the whole, "taking over the world" thing, but that's just minor right?

Right.

Anyway, I suppose I should activate the RANDOMATOR now and get my writing prompt for today.

Activating the RANDOMATOR...

I got 169! Let's see what my prompt says..

"Flesh out this character: Juliana Ritter, 53; she is an extrovert but easily depressed."

Hmm, sounds difficult, but doable. Here we go....

Juliana Ritter was standing in the middle of the room, smiling to herself. She watched each of the party goers, deciding which one she should talk to first. The idea of talking to someone-anyone- excited her.

One person was wearing a rainbow tie and seemed proud of it. Another was dancing like she never danced before to some song that kept repeating the word "maniac". There were people just standing, drinks in hand, talking to eachother. She was so excited with the idea of talking to everyone in the room that she couldn't decide who to talk to first.

There was a girl in her twenties, pretty, but had a scar on her forehead that was long and very visible. Juliana wished to ask her about that scar because she was sure there was an interesting story behind it.

There was another guy in the back who was fat and bald, but was also really young looking.

Does he have some kind of genetic disorder that makes his head like that, Juliana thought happily, oh, I will have to ask him. So interesting a conversation would that be.

The truth was that Juliana loved talking. She did not enjoy small talk, however. She was only interested in the good parts of the conversation, the juicy bits. To her, talking about weather or how someone is doing was a waste of her time. She longed to talk about the dirty secrets, like how that young girl got her scar, for instance.

Juliana walked up to the girl and smiled brightly at her.

"Um, hello?" the girl said uncomfortably.

"Hello, where on earth did you get that marvelous scar!? I must know, please!" Julia exclaimed.

The girl gasped and touched her forehead. With her hand still on her face she said, "That's none of your business! Do I like, know you?"

"No, but I'm sure I'd like to know about your scar!" Julie answered.

The girl gave out a snort and tromped away. Julie felt very depressed. What could she have said that was so offensive?

After all, I was only bringing up a friendly conversation.

Julie wallowed in her fruit punch, wondering what she had did wrong. She had always considered herself a polite and tactful person. She always said "please" and "thank you", "you're welcome" and "I'd rather not". What could she be doing wrong?

Seeing the ugly man in the back of the room, hope was restored to Juliana. Perhaps I can make a friend after all!

"Hello there, kind sir. I can't help but notice that you are fat and bald, but are also incredibly young looking. Tell me, please, is this due to a genetic disorder of some sort?"

Baldy's eyes grew wide for a long time. He eyed her suspiciously.

"Is this some kind of a joke, lady?"

"Of course not! I am simply inquiring-"

"Well stop it! You think it's nice to make fun of me."

"I said please."

"You think it's funny? YOU THINK IT'S FUNNY?"

His face a burning red, the young man stormed off, leaving Juliana shaking her head. She felt so sad, not being able to know if the man was just fat or suffering from a disease. She did not let herself be down for too long, however.

"My my, what an impolite young man. He must not know his manners at all. I said please and thank you, just like my mother taught me," she said sadly to herself, "And by golly, I'm going to stick to my dear old mother's advice, may she rest in peace!"

Still confused and heart broken from a lack of proper social interaction, Juliana Ritter stormed off.

________

Well, that was...interesting. You see, my young friends, this is what you get for making something up as you go along. (It was in the rules though, see DAY ONE)

Did you like this piece? Maybe not? Either way, post comments in the bottom and tune in tomorrow for another exciting adventure.



Sunday, July 25, 2010

Writing Prompt Week: Day One

Welcome to a Very Random Pickle's very second theme week! Like all theme weeks, this shall be a week solid of writing fun. This week's theme is "writing prompts".

You all probably know what a writing prompt is. It's just a sentence or phrase that jump starts your creativity or gives you something to write about. This week, using a number randomizer and a website called Creative Writing Prompts.com, I shall receive a random writing prompt and follow its instructions, no matter what writing prompt I get. I will also make it up as I go along, with no editing along the way.

Creative Writing Prompts.com has 346 different prompts, which is a lot of writing possibilities. I am using RANDOM.com's random number generator to choose one of the 346 numbers.

Exciting, eh? I figure this is a good way to get my word count for this month up and post in my blog at the same time. Yup, I'm a genius.

So, let's activate the RANDOMATOR!


I got the number 339! I am going to look at the three hundredth and thirty-ninth writing prompt on my nifty website now.

My prompt says,

"Write about five things I would do with myself if I didn't see a soul for seven days."

Hmm, interesting. A good and simple start for a very engaging week. Let's just get down to it!

FIVE THINGS I WOULD DO WITH MYSELF IF I WERE ALL ALONE IN THE WORLD FOR SEVEN DAYS.

1) The first thing I would do, of course, is marvel at the brilliant title I have for this interesting segment. FIVE THINGS I WOULD DO WITH MYSELF IF I WERE ALL ALONE IN THE WORLD FOR SEVEN DAYS is such a sweet and interesting title. It even makes a good acronym. (FTIWDWMIIWALITWFSD)Yes, I could keep myself quite happy for a day or two knowing of the existence of such a wonderful title.

2) Knowing that I will be alone gives me numerous and fun options that could be considered embarrassing by the general public. While running around in my underwear sounds enjoyable, I think I would like to sing instead. When I am bored and feeling a little fidgety, I sing. Since nobody is going to be around me, I won't have to worry about them plucking out their eardrums and begging me to stop. Heh, I like being alone.

3)Another thing I would do is to take over the world. I mean, it would be so easy with no one around, right? My minions will have to be fish and worms, because they don't have souls. (Hey, the rules said not a living SOUL, didn't they?) And when the people DO come back, they will all be at my mercy. Ha.

Ha.

Ha.

4) I think it would be exciting to write a novel in a week. After all, it isn't too hard to write a novel. (I am ignoring the fact that it is hard to write a good novel.) It would a best seller, because all of the people in the world would buy it. Including fish and worms, which totally love me since I've taken over the world by now and given them a good dental plan.

WORMS: My teeth feel so wonderful!

FISH: Glub!

5) Come to think of it, democracy is overrated. I'm going to develop my own political view point. It shall be called, "Estherism", named after its creator which is ME. Estherism shall be a simple blend of communism and a democratic view point, in which the government controls everything because I know for a fact the people prefer it that way. I mean, who wants to WORK for their money and stuff, when I, the government, will give them all the welfare they need? Yes, the redneck masses will rise and become the richest people alive. "Not working" is going to be the new "work"! Quick, I must increase the taxes for the working middle class so I can benefit the people who aren't actually doing anything!* Anger the masses, spend too much money, the world is mine! HAHAHAAHAHAHAH! HAHAHAAHaHA! MYAHAHAHA! GLALALAALA-THIS IS A TRIUMPH I AM MAKING A NOTE HERE HUGE SUCCE-

______

*Cough*

Okay....Maybe leaving me alone on the planet isn't such a good idea. Hope you enjoyed this little bit. Join me tomorrow for another writing prompt! If this piece interested you please leave a comment below. Come on, you know I would do the same for you.

*Yeah..this seems all too real to me.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Margaret Weis and Cleaning.

Yesterday, I was sitting on the couch, the view of my face blocked my a Margaret Weis(AND Tracy Hickman!)book. Suddenly a realization dawned on me. My book snapped down, revealing my morose but resigned facial expression. Silently I said,

"It's time."

I grabbed a broom as my main weapon, and a dustpan as my shield. Alone, but not defenseless, I strutted off into the dark abyss.

The dark abyss being my room, which had been left stagnant for too long and so it developed a venomous hatred for me. It's desire to bury me in an avalanche of dirty clothes and socks grew too apparent for me to ignore. So I set out to clean it. And yes, cleaning my room is like reading an epic fantasy novel, except instead of slaying dragons I am picking up rancid socks. (Which could be as deadly.)

Okay, my lame attempt at epic prose aside, I'm going to say this: I am not a clean person. No, I don't leave uneaten food anywhere or to that extent, but I am not tidy. As an example, I have a tendency to throw my clothes everywhere, which makes my room look like a blanket covered mountain. My computer desk is covered to the brim with fruit snack wrappers and my bed is never fixed. I was tired of looking at Mess, so I decided to kill Mess. Mess is apparently very hard to kill.

First things first, I walk into my room. I had been blocking out Mess until this point so I kind of shocked myself with how messy Mess was. I decided to start with my closet. I pull aside the curtain and an avalanche of clothes, just as Mess wanted, fell onto me. Swiping the clean and dirty clothes aside, I viewed into the dark pit that was my closet and sighed. My closet has not been organized in a long time, and as a result it was full of stuff. Stuff that would have scared the knickers off a full grown orc.

I started with actually hanging up my clothes. When that was done, I looked into the dark side of my closet and gasped. I have the right side and my sis has the left side. The closet goes deeper than the walls allow entrance so it's kind of like a cubby hole back there. My hole was full of fabric and notebooks full of writing material and doodles from past DnD games. Digging through the mass, I found two shirts that I thought missing for years. One was a pink pacman shirt and the other was a flowery v-neck that I used to wear.

Next, I decided to clean off the long craft desk that I have to the back of the room. After nearly impaling myself on a stray kitchen knife, I started to clean, ignoring my sister's side because Mess was strong in those parts.

My sister is an artist, and she doesn't have a pencil sharpener that holds the little chip things.

The floor was awash with pencil shavings, and I nearly thought I would need a dragonship to cross it.

RANDOM DUDE: Are you going to talk about this stuff all day?

Yes, yes I am.

Anyway, Mess was defeated eventually, although she still lingers where no broom can reach. Tifa, her evil servant, has made sure to spill my mug of water every now and then just to get even, but mostly I've been without mess for 24 hours.

Not bad if I do say so myself.

Monday, July 12, 2010

This post is about nothing.

Esther uses Write Attack on Computermon!

It missed!

Computermon uses Writer's Block!

It's super effective!

Esther fainted!

--

That's what I feel like "write" now. (PUN!) I am actually not suffering from writer's block with my actual writing. I've written two short stories this month so I'm feeling pretty good about that. I'm talking about my blog, actually. It's so much fun to write in it, yet I can't think of any topics. So I thought of doing a very special blog post today called, "Free Writing". (It's where you write randomly until a good idea gets in your head.) Yes, I went there. I am just going to type whatever comes into my head and hope that it is coherent enough to post here. So to start free writing I better think of a word... Oh, how about "spork"?

Ah, the spork. It ryhmes with pork. It also ryhmes with fork, which I find interesting because the two of them are related. I think it has to do with the fact that the spork is part spoon and part fork, which I never really understood until today. Why not just bring a fork and a spoon with you on your trip? It would look better than having a stupid spoon with prongs on it. (Oh, are they called prongs? I never thought about that before.) I thought of an idea just now. I am going to call it, the "butterfly utensil". You see, its going to be a spoon on one side and a fork on the other, so all you have to do is flip the BU to the side you want! I'm a genius, I know.

I'm actually a genius in many other things, like eating salt for instance. I have a thing for salt. Salt tastes so good to me, I sometimes eat it out of the shaker. You think that is gross and unhealthy? At least I don't smoke or drink or anything. Talk about gross. I've never thought about it, but there are a lot of gross things in the world.

You know what grosses me out? McDonalds chicken nuggets. It's been proven that they are in fact not natural in the least. They take a chicken, throw it into a processor, and blend it up and shape it in the shape of a chicken. That's just not right! I mean, whatever happened to real chicken? I like REAL chicken! You know what I love more than chicken? Bacon.

Mmmm...Bacon. It's my favorite food next to cereal and pizza. You just can't go wrong with bacon. Some say it's unhealthy, but it's no worse than fake chicken!

STOP PICKING ON BACON, JERKS!

There are a lot of jerks in the world, now that I think about it. I mean, some people are just born mean. I'm not a judgmental person but I know a jerk when I see one. Like there was this one dude that glared at me for singing "Bop Bop to the Top" at the top of my lungs for thirty minutes. Then he yelled and called me names. How mean!

Oh wait, that was my dad.

My dad is a cool guy. I am like a clone of him. Clones creep me out. I hope the U.S's genetic department gets smart and stops cloning. *shudder* Heh, shudder. Sounds like "shutter". Have any of you watched "Shutter Island". I haven't either. It looks like something out of a dream.

I had dream about Draco Malfoy eating my hair last night.

Yay! That was fun! Free writing is great! You should try it sometime. It gets the ideas flowing. Now, I am off to write a short story. Until next time.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Let's get physical!

Woo! Let's work out! One, two, three, four! Now lets do some backflips! Let's do one hundred backflips! Yeah!

Actually, I can't back flip.

Let's do some push ups, then!

Wait...can't do those either.

You see my friends, I am not the in shape person you took me for in the previous sentences. The truth is that really I am a *gasp* pansy!

Ha ha, point your skinny fingers and laugh while you can. This summer, I have resolved to get in better physical condition! Soon, I will be backflipping and pushing up everywhere I go.

As soon as my stupid foot heals.

You may recall that I had have surgery on my right foot. Well, the gash on the side of my foot is still not healed, so I can't actually do anything complicated with my feet. I can walk, but not run. I'm not even supposed to jump really. With all this in my way, you'd think I'd give up, right? Wrong!

I have created my own complex exercise regimen, in which I do not have to move my right foot at all. It is a series of calorie burning madness in which only a genius like me could create. I'm sure that you want to get in shape too without moving your right foot as well. (Studies show that the right leg is the hardest to move, so why try?) Because I am so kind, I will share my work out with you. Rejoice, young soul, for I will introduce you to the "Right Legless Workout"!

1) First, you should put on your favorite music. This helps you get into the zone.
2) Follow the steps and you will be ready to go!

WORK OUT:

1. THE HIP SWISH:

For three minutes, stand in place and wiggle your hips extravagantly, as quickly as you can. The more butt you put into it the better. This is my favorite part of the work out.

2. THE LEFT LEGGED KICK:

After that, stand in place for a few seconds. Then proceed to wave your left leg up and down for five minutes. You can wave it anywhere. If you kick someone in the head you get a bonus.

3. THE HOLAH DANCER:

Not to be mistaken with hula. Squat down for a few seconds before standing up and waving your arms, screaming "HOLAH! HOLAH!" This strengthens your throatal muscles and your armal muscles at the same time!

4. THE ROBOTIC CHICKEN LADY:

Poke out your elbows to either side of you and flap them whilst jumping on your left foot, whilst screaming, "I'm a lady!". This is an intense work out, so I don't recommend doing it for too long.

5. EXPERIMENT 626:

Do I have to explain this one? Everyone knows it.

I know, I know. This work out is too great for your mind to handle. I'll give you a few seconds to calm down. 1...2...3... Okay, that's enough. I suggest you try it. Not only will you look cool, you'll get in shape too.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Just to show you the writetress I am:

My adoring readers at this point probably know that I like to write. I've been trying a few different mediums at this point, and although I am attempting to write a novel right now, I think it is possible that my real passion is scripts.

Dialogue is my favorite part of any story. If it doesn't have good dialogue I usually don't enjoy it. (Old Man and the Sea and other classic narratives aside.) And since scripts ARE dialogue, what's not to love?

I have written two real scripts, unless you are counting the dorky ones which I am going to show you later. The only problem with script writing for me is that I have to remind myself to take myself seriously. I'm a joker, and unfortunately, not many people get my sense of humor. Seriously, if I unleashed my actual sense of humor on you, you would probably die of confusion. My mother says I could write Futurama episodes, I am that far out there.

And so, just to prove to you my love for writing dorky scripts, I present you with a link!

http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic65518.html#p723800

Flash! Bang!

Ain't it pretty? This link will deliver you to the Young Writer's Society. (It is one of the best writing sites out there with a very nice user base. I recommend it to any writer practicing their craft.)This link is a link to one of my scripts, "Keebler the Bounty Hunter". If the title isn't enough to scare you, wait until you read it. It has all of my favorite things: Heroes, bandits, wise cracking sidekicks-you name it. So check it out if you will. Maybe read the comments at the bottom; a few actually liked it. Even in its unedited glory.

Until a more meaningful post.

Monday, June 28, 2010

I dream a dream...

Heh, I bet you just thought of Susan Boyle just now.

Tough luck, I'm not interviewing her. I am here again to talk about my personal issues. My "problems", if you will. And I am going to tell you about my dreams. Yeah!

Ever since I was a wee lass, I have had these things called dreams. My dreams have always haunted me. Not because they are scary, but because they kind of make sense. My dreams always have a plot, a cast of characters, and a couple of plot devices. It's like watching a movie. (Most of the time it's a zombie movie, but who cares.)

I sometimes even have fun with my dreams. The only issue is that they ALL-I repeat ALL- will have at least four of the following subjects in them. They will have:

-A river, which I will float on for an indefinite amount of time before falling off a waterfall.

- A zombie.

- Hot guy with a six pack. :D

- Me getting chased by a bounty hunter.

- Me getting chased by a stalker.

- Me dying a horrible death, only to float away and watch the dream from third person.

- Someone sleeping in a bed.

- Someone falling off of a cliff.

- Someone searching for something important, only to get distracted by something useless. (A book, a sword, a pretty girl.

- Water parks.

- bionics.

You may draw from this list that my dreams are incredibly violent, are close to water, and usually have someone die. You are correct. I don't know why, but my dreams don't differ too much usually. They DO have differning plots though, which I appreciate. Mind if I tell you a dream I had? Of course you don't. Count how many of the things above are in it.

DREAM:

I discover that I am a mercenary on a mission to eradicate a zombie hoard in the middle of a desolate castle somewhere spooky. With me, I have a mercenary, a doctor, some guy I don't remember, and a love interest. (He had a six pack) With my gang I set out on my adventure. To get there, we ride in a boat down a nifty river. When we are there we immediately start kicking zombie butt. I fight awesomely, but I get chased by a stalkerish zombie and get my arm eaten off. I die. I wake up and I realize that now I have bionic arms. Like Cyborg from Teen Titans! I go and kick butt summore. My gang decides to take a nap. We all sleep in one giant bed. We hear a noise. I investigate because now I have super hearing. We think it is a zombie but it is only the mayor in his bath robe. He is eating a bagel. He tells us to get out of his bed. We leave the place, searching for more zombies. We search for a while before getting distracted by a water park. We ride the waterfalls.

I wake up.

Yeah... I know. I told you didn't I? I hated this dream. It was so boring. But it did have all of the elements that I can't seem to stop dreaming about. So, take a look at my dream. What does it tell you about me? What do you think it represents? That I am a violent psycho that plays too many videogames and reads Max Brooks too much? Please, tell me.

Because simply, my dear friends, I have no idea.