Tuesday, January 30, 2007

I Got Nothin

I'm afraid I got nothin' today. The contents of my brain have spilled out of my ear and puddled in the seat of my chair. Sitting in pooled brain is an unpleasant experience, let me tell you. For one it's squishy. Then, the longer you sit in it the colder it gets. Plus, gray matter is a bitch to clean out of the carpet. It's starting to smell funky. I guess I'll have to clean it up soon. It's still dribbling out of my ear a little, more the right than the left. Tomorrow I'll have to go to the store and pick out a new one. I'll try and get an upgrade. Perhaps it'll be a gray matter brain with speckles of green. Sounds like a good idea to me.

Monday, January 29, 2007


The first time the guys asked Jack to “go grubbin” he couldn’t believe it. He was walking through the hall on the way to fourth period, when Chet asked him. Jack stammered out a surprised yes, and Chet told him where to meet everyone after school.

Jack was dumbfounded. He had heard the cool kids talking about grubbin before, but he never thought they would ask him to come along. Maybe it was his recognition from the school for almost single-handedly winning the district’s Super Scholastic Competition, maybe it was one of his articles in the school’s paper (his expose on the history of the school’s oldest rivalry had been on the front page), maybe one of the cool kids found out his dad was a big wig at one of the country’s top video game companies.

He flushed with pride and couldn’t sit still until the end of the day when he was to meet everyone just off campus. At 3:30 the bell rang and a very excited and anxious Jack crammed his books in his bag and then walked to the 7/11 down the street. Sure enough, not ten minutes after he got there, just long enough for Jack to think this might have just been a prank, Chet and his buddies, Chris and Tom, pulled up in his cherry red convertible. The top was down and the music blaring. Chet whipped the car around to where Jack was standing and waved him in.

Chris and Tom sat in the back, and each gave Jack a hearty slap on the back when he sat down.

“You ever been grubbin before,” Tom asked.

Jack shook his head and they were off. They drove past the town limits and out into the hilly and forested countryside. When they pulled off into a forest preserve, Chet turned the music down. At the same time, Tom and Chris quieted down as well.

“We don’t want to attract any attention,” Chet said. “You know grubbin isn’t exactly legal.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I know.”

“You’re cool right,” Chris said. “We don’t want you to go snitching or anything.”

“He’s cool,” Chet said.

They parked the car and got out, and then Chet led them off into the woods. When they came to a large rotting log he held up his hands and they stopped.

“This is were the prime grubs are,” he said.

Then he reached into the log and pulled out a handful of fat, wriggling grubs and some partially rotten wood. He picked out one from the group, the fattest, and blew the wood particles off of it. Then, with a brief look to the others, he slurped it into his mouth and began to chew. Within moments the enzymes in the grub were taking effect and he began to chuckle at nothing. Chris and Tom didn’t wait, but dug into the log themselves. Jack was still hesitating and so Chet blew off a grub and tossed it to him.

“Go on, eat it.”

Jack looked at the white, writing thing in his hands and then popped it into his mouth before he could think twice. He bit down hard, and the bitter juices flooded his mouth. He nearly gagged, but then he swallowed the fluid and could feel its effects take hold. Colors were brighter, the world seemed to swim, and suddenly everything was funny. He took another, and another, and soon he was in a euphoric stupor. That was when the others snuck off, unnoticed. Some time later, Jack looked up and found them gone. He went looking for them, and when he stumbled out of the woods Chet’s car was no longer in the parking lot. Instead was a police cruiser.

“Son,” said the burly police officer. “Have you been grubbing?”

“N-no sir,” he said, and wiped grub juice from his chin. Then he took another step and nearly fell over.

“I think you’re going to have to come with me. Grubbing is a serious offense.”

And with that, Jack was loaded into the cruiser and taken away.

Sunday, January 28, 2007

Walking in the Woods

I wandered down a snowy track laid out before me in a silent forest. The fading dusk light cast everything in shades of gray and black. The snow, even the light, absorbed sound so that I couldn't even hear my own footfalls. I was the only traveler on the path and felt like the only soul for miles. The air was still, the animals silent.

Without warning the ground began to shake. Snow fell to the ground in great heaps, and a host of animals ran toward me. Momentarily frozen, I stood watching as they ran right past me and continued on behind. A rumble and then a roar filled the air. The light had faded further, and all was in shadows.

The flood of animals was past, but the savage roar continued. Gradually the light became brighter, but to my confusion, it didn't come from above. It came from in front of me, and it glowed a vibrant green. Trees were pulled from the ground, the mud and dirt around their roots spattering all around me. Then it emerged, a giant creature the likes of which I had never seen before.

The green beast was covered in a layer of coarse fur. The greenish light came from it's chest, pulsating gently. I threw the trees aside and moved toward me. The beast's mouth opened to unleash another savage roar and I could see rows of serrated teeth. The remnants of a skunk hung from its jaws and the stench hung off of it like a cloak. It raised a thick, clawed paw as if to strike.

I cowered, waiting for the blow to knock my head off when suddenly I was falling. The ground had opened up and I fell 20 feet into a chamber below the forest. With the wind knocked out of me all I could do was lay on the floor of the chamber and look up at the animal raging above me. It's green light cast strange, moving shadows in the chamber around me. I looked and saw ancient carings in the smooth rock wall. Some were so old they were crumbling away.

Something shuffled behind me. I rolled over and scrambled back, trying to see through the darkness and the dust. A small form emerged from the depths of the chamber. It was a tiny man, only a foot tall. He was clothed in squirel skin and capped by a hollow acorn. He came within the light cast by the thing above and spoke in a surprisingly deep voice.

"It is our fault that the Glaxor has escaped, and now we will need your help in retreiving it."

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Mr. Softee

Mr. Softee is a crafty fellow. His one goal in life is to dish out soft serve to the people of the world. His specialty is chocolate. He is such a crafty fellow that he continues to dish out soft serve, long after you don't want any more. He presents it in such a way that is impossible to refuse. Eventually, you get to the point where the mere scent of more chocolate soft serve will make you want to wretch. The only solution is to clean it up quickly and hope that you can contain him before he tries to give you more.

Monday, January 22, 2007

The Problem With Space Monkeys

The space monkeys of legend are a band of ruthless marauders from a parallel dimension. Much of their origin is still shrouded in mystery. It is known that they are the result of a misguided series of experiments, however, the scientists responsible for their first appearances have all been terminated at the hands of their creation.

The monkeys taste for carnage is insatiable. At their beginnings, their numbers were small, but as they plundered and conquered new lands on their home world their forces grew. There are few that have survived an encounter with this menace. Those that have lived tell horrific tales of chaos and destruction. It was not long before the monkeys gained the means to travel among the cosmos and then between dimensions.

The space monkeys are different from average monkeys in a few ways. Their skin and fur are green. They can come in different shades, but they are invariably green. Engineered with hyper-intelligence, they are adept problem solvers and stand just behind man in their inventiveness. Also, they are generally larger than their Earth counterparts.

Once they set their sites on a planet there is generally no stopping them. Earth is a precious jewel, and coveted by the space monkeys, among others. For the time being, the wombats as well as some other galactic forces stand at our door to protect the planet against interstellar invasion. It can only be a matter of time though, until something breaks through. Whether that be the space monkeys or an unidentified other remains to be seen.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

The World of Tomorrow

I have seen the world of tomorrow and it is strange indeed. The arrival of martians will spark some of the greatest advances in human history, but it will also bring great tragedy. The first martian mission will come as a delegation of peace. The populous will hijack their alien technology and explore the galaxy, stealing other sources of technology as they go. This will go on for years until finally, the universal explorers cross the wrong alien race.

The Gummi Trolls are not as unforgiving as they would seem, given their delicious appearance. Their merciless tactics of war leave a swath of destruction across the galaxy. Eventually they find their way back to Earth and decimate much of the populous. The rest flee into the colonies, forming rag tag bands of rebel fighters that strive to restore some of humanity's stature on Earth and other worlds. But alas, they are unorganized and deprived of the necessary equipment. Their attempts, while valiant, are wrought with failure.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

The Tradgey of Humpty Dumpty

It is a little known fact that Humpty Dumpty was one of the greatest crime fighters of all time. His outer shell made him a difficult opponent to best physically, and his deductive reasoning skills were second to none. He deftly solved his cases, using cunning and guile to find his culprits.

Alas, it couldn't last for the day came when Humpty had his great fall. His friend the king rushed to his aid, but it was too late. Yoke broken, he seeped into the earth before he could be properly collected. When the case was reviewed, it seemed that Humpty had not simply fallen. His distance from the wall and the pattern of his break suggested he had been pushed. Suspects were questioned, but no arrests were made. All the while, Mother Goose watched from the sidelines, taking notes and chuckling to herself when no one was around.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

The Green Revolution

The Green Baby revolution spread swiftly and without warning. "Green Babies Rule!" was scrawled in homes and printed in newspapers around the globe.

The message said it all. They had come to take over, and their would be no stopping them. Their mark, a tiny hand print done in green finger paint began to appear in the towns and cities. Buildings bearing this mark were soon decimated by the Green Baby Army, reduced to a pile of crumbled brick and smouldering diapers.

The people tried to resist, but they were incapacitated by the babies' giggles and coos. Governments toppled, that is...until The Sitter of Babies arrived from the planet Nannymous 6 and restored order once more.

Monday, January 15, 2007

That Damn Snow!

Sally couldn't understand why the snow burned her skin so as it fell upon her in soft, downy flakes. Then again, she had never liked snow, at least, not since it eradicated her family in a desperate attack. She lashed out at it repeatedly, but it swirled around her even more. It circled in.

That's when she remembered her blow torch. Without a second thought she pulled it from her pack. The weight was satisfying in her hand. She turned the knob and heard a satisfying his of gas. But there was no flame. Why didn't I buy the one with the automatic starter, she thought. She rifled through the bag, feeling her way to the bottom, until her fingers found the striker.

In her distration, the snow closed in on her. Each flake burned itself into her exposed skin: her face, her hands. It flew at her eyes and dove at her mouth.

She yanked the striker from her bag and tried to light the gas. On the third try it caught. A flame shot out of the end, yellow, red and blue. The snow melted and then shrank back. She saw this and laughed, a hysterical sound absorbed by the spirialing flakes.

The Wombat's Visit

Today of all days the wombat had to come. It waddled into the office, sniffing tentatively and going on and on about how the universe was such a safe place because of its efforts. Already having a hard time concentrating, I tried to just ignore it, but its bulk and the stench of many dead space monkeys that followed it around as a puppy follows a steak made this impossible. A fresh cut was just above his right shoulder and the wound was oozing.

"I go to all this trouble of eliminating the space monkeys from this sector," he said, "and I can't even get a mention in your silly mag. "I tried to explain once again that our mag has no place for wombats, but it was to no avail.

By this time, his stench was bothering everyone in the room, especially after he shook himself to try and dislodge some of the space monkeys' blood. A wad of green monkey hair stuck to my copy stand and I had to get a scraper and use nearly half a bottle of Goo Gone to get it off. I was getting angry, and my boss wanted the creature gone, so with a flick of my wrist I deployed my automatic, levitating, Teflon-coated, gargantuan spatula and scooped him up. With the use of my containment field in a box it was no problem to keep him in place on the floating slab of metal and hustle him outside, where I deposited him at the back of the parking lot. I set the containment field to dissolve in two minutes, giving me plenty of time to get back inside and not worry about him slinking in the open door after me.

I was walking down the final hall to my cube, passing the windows, when a movement caused me to look up and out. The wombat flew past, his chrome-plated ionic jetpack carrying him ever skyward. In his right hand he carried his MB (monkey blaster) 55+. With his left he was flicking me off. I waved the spatula at him, realizing that we'd just play this game again in the weeks to come, just like we've done so many times before.