Saturday, September 4, 2010

A Poem

I'm writing a poem
Because she demands it.
She likes math.
I can't  understand it.

But here's an equation
That I'll try solve.
It's numbers and words,
And around her it revolves.

Take a perfect one
Add it to a zero.
He longed for her dearly,
And he was her hero.

Take perfect added to infinity
and multiply by two.
The answer, plus me,
Equals "I love you."

Rating: Awesome

It is currently 11:35pm, and on the reasonably likely chance that I don't finish writing this by midnight, this still counts as September 3rd's post. I will not be missing a day.

Funny how two words can inspire you. In the case of this story, the words "steampunk dragon" worked on me. A visual formed and evolved pretty quickly for me, and the story just sort of came naturally as I started writing. I have a few more ideas for this, so if you'd like to read more, leave me a comment and let me know, and I'll add more in future installments of the blog. Enjoy:

The world had ended a long time ago. An unavoidable wall of war and death had enveloped the globe centuries ago, but just enough people remained unfazed to keep the human race going. Some mistakes, man learned from. Others, he repeated tenfold. Such is the way of the world. The place is the new Earth, the time is during the beginning of the Industrial Revolution. A time when both magic and technology ran rampant across the world, unchecked, unhindered, and uncontrollable.

It's magnificent, thought the Technogician, looking up at his finally completed creation. It's jaws loomed above his head, its laser-sharpened steel teeth clamped shut with thousands of pounds of hydraulic power. The tips of its huge titanium wings gleamed in the dimly lit warehouse. Upon the backs of the wings sat two jet turbines, and another protruded from its back. Pistons and hoses emerged from every joint, and gear sat interlocked within its grotesque steel exoskeleton.

"Truly magnificent," he said, this time aloud. "My beautiful dragon."

He removed his leather trench coat and tossed on a chair that sat in front of a desk covered in conflicting blueprints. He pulled his tinted round goggles down from his messy brown hair and over his eyes, then rolled up the sleeves of the grease-stained white button-up shirt that he wore and extended his arms toward the machine. He muttered a phrase that he and only he knew the meaning of, and his hands began to glow with an eery purple energy. He walked up to his creation, the energy now seeming to be bubbling from him, and plunged his hands into the heart of the dragon.

The dragons eyes lit up with a red anger of the kind kind that could not be sated. Steam hissed and whistled from the pipes on its back and nostrils, and it began to flex its arms. It stretched its neck and legs, revealing its own fearful height. The jet turbines began to spin, and the sound of their whirring combined with hissing steam and screeching gears to form a terrible shriek of rage.

"It worked," the Technogician murmured, stepping away from his monster.

Hearing him, the dragon turned his head and gazed for the first time at another lifeform. The dragon hated him. It did not know why, but it knew that this tiny, insignificant little thing was the reason for its pain and for its rage. It leaned down and inhaled a great breath of the Technogician's scent through the pipes in its nostrils. It paused, looking at the man who thought himself its master. Then the ferocious hinge of the dragon's jaw released and a powerful cloud of super-heated steam poured from its mouth.

The mist embraced the Technogician, searing the flesh from his muscle and the muscle from his bone. The skeleton of what was once a man collapsed to the floor of an empty warehouse as a new horror barrelled through the ceiling and was unleashed upon the world...

Thursday, September 2, 2010

So, Who's Riding The Mexican Train?

It was late in the morning one perfectly average summer's day, and Rusty the cat was laying in a patch of sunlight that was streaming in through the glass door. His eyes were shut and his tail twitched lazily to a rhythm that only he knew the beat to. As he lay there absorbing the rays, Tank the dog walked up next to him.
"Heya Rusty," said Tank, "you awake?"
Rusty remained silent.
"You awake?"
More silence.
"You awake?"
Rusty sighed irritably.
"What do you want, Tank?" he asked without opening his eyes.
"Whatcha doin'?"
"Trying to enjoy life," groaned Rusty.
"Butchoo aren't doing nothin'," Tank said confused.
"If you knew that, why did you ask what I was doing?"
"When I want to enjoy life," Tank continued, ignoring the cat, "I play fetch."
"Tank, you still haven't realized that you're supposed to bring the ball back."
"I don't think you get the game, Rusty. But it's okay 'cause yer a cat."
"Do you have a point, Tank?" asked Rusty.
"Heya Rusty?"
"Yes, Tank?"
"Wanna play?"
"No Tank," replied Rusty, still never having opened his eyes. "I'm sleeping."
"Oh okay," said Tank, and he left the cat to his sunbathing.

Monday, August 30, 2010

I'm The Goddamn Batman. I'm Gonna Be the Best Friend You Could Ever Hope For...

Bats are completely blind, and yet, they know their surroundings perfectly. They know by listening. They are not concerned with what things look like. They just want to know where and what they are.
We can all learn from bats.
Close your eyes and listen. You might learn something new.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Take A Deep Breath, Open Your Eyes, And Close The Book.

A monkey was hanging by its tail upside from a tree. I held a banana in its hands, and ate it happily and lazily. He hummed a tune to himself as he ate. As he hung there, a wolf walked on the path below.
"Hulloo there Wolf," the monkey said with his mouth full. "What are you up to this fine afternoon?"
"Ah, hello Monkey," said Wolf elegantly. "I'm just hunting."
Monkey's eyes widened and he tensed up nervously.
"Not for monkey, I hope...?" he stammered with a nervous smile.
"Haha no, not for monkey. And certainly not for one as odd as you."
"Odd?" said Monkey, offended, "How so?"
"Well," started Wolf, "for one thing, you hang around wrong-side up like that all day."
"Who's to say that I'm the one who's wrong? I have no problems at all living this way. It's no more strange than you living down there and that boring old ground."
"Why, of course it is!" exclaimed Wolf. "Why else do things fall naturally towards the ground, then, if that's not where they are meant to be?"
"Maybe," said Monkey in an uppity voice, "I'm just not as lazy as you are. All good things are worth working for, are they not?"
"Ha!" laughed Wolf. "You are even stranger than I thought, Monkey."
"Think what you want, predator. But I see now downside to being upside down. You're on the wrong side of right side up."
Chuckling haughtily to himself, Wolf began to walk away, but slipped on a banana peel, and landed on his face. The monkey howled with laughter.
"Maybe you were right, Wolf," giggled Monkey, "because the ground is exactly where that was supposed to be."