Monday, June 27, 2011

The New Dog

The New Dog
Carl looked at the customer, who looked back at him in silence.  Carl had seen stranger customers in his pet store before, but this one was a close runner for the strangest, right behind the woman who was wearing a live sloth as a hat.  His hair stuck out at peculiar angles, seemingly at random, and it was dyed a violent shade of purple.  It gave him the look of a wilted flower.  Surprisingly, the dogs who populated the store had not gone insane with barking when he entered.  Carl didn’t know what to make of that.
Carl finally decided to break the awkward silence.  “So...”, he said, “what, uh, can I do for you?”
The man stared at Carl blankly for a second, and seemed to snap to attention.  “Ah, yes.” he said.  “I would like to buy...” He paused for thought, as though searching for a word.  He finally settled on “dog.”  “I would like to buy a dog.”
“Well, what kind?” inquired Carl politely.
“There’s more then one kind?”
Carl blinked at the customer.  Several times, privately thinking that this customer most likely had multiple screws loose.    “Yes.  Easily more than seventy breeds.”
The customer (Carl had started to call him “Wiltyman” in his head) looked at Carl as though he was from Planet Strange and said “What?  Are you sure?”

Carl sighed inwardly.  “Yes, I’ve worked with dogs my whole life.  I’m sure.”
Wiltyman looked shocked.  “This,” he said, “will complicate my decision immensely.  I thought dogs only came in one form, like plastic trays.”
This time Carl sighed out loud, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “No, as you can clearly see if you look around you, sir, there is more than one breed of dog.”  
Wiltyman looked as though every principle he built his life on had been compromised in an instant.  “Well then,” he said, “I will have to put some time into thinking about this for sure.  Yes, some time indeed.”  He stood there, scratching a beard he didn’t have, suddenly pointed, and exclaimed “that one!”
Carl turned and looked at the dog he was pointing at.  “Oh, that one?  That’s rather a special kind of Dog.  You sure?” The Dog awoke, swivelling its sensor unit toward the source of the noise.
“Yes, I am sure.  That looks like the dog for me!” declared Wiltyman.  
“Alright”, said Carl wearily, “C’mere boy.”
The Dog rose to its feet, with a hissing of pistons and motors.  It went to stand beside Carl, its sensory array blinking red.  Faint whirring noises accompanied its every movement.  
“He seems friendly enough,” said Wiltyman. “What breed is he?”
“I don’t know, Pekingese, I think,” replied Carl, patting the Dog’s head with a clanking noise.  
“I’ll take him!” said Wiltyman, and paid, filled out the forms, and all that rigmarole, quick as you please.  “Come on boy!” he said triumphantly, “let’s go!”
“CONFIRMED,” said the Dog.  

Willtyman, whose name was in fact Gus, quite liked his new Dog.  It took him a bit to realize that it ate iron filings and scrap metal rather than dog food, and drank motor oil rather than water, but other than that, it was smooth sailing.  Although the first walk was very strange...

“Alright boy,” said Gus cheerfully, “are you ready for your walk?”
“THIS UNIT IS PREPARED FOR RECONNAISSANCE ACTION,” blared the Dog, through its speaker grille.  Gus couldn’t think of a good name for his new pet, so he just named it Dog.  He thought it was appropriate.  
Gus brought the Dog over to his friend Albert’s house, and knocked on his door.  “Albert!” he called, “I have a new dog!”
“I’ll be right there!  I’m just hanging up these lightbulbs to dry, give me a second!” came Albert’s shouted reply.  Ah, lightbulbs, thought Gus.  Albert was a renown electrician.  Gus could still recall his advice of “remember Gus, always keep your lightbulbs clean with a little soapy water.”  
Gus’s thoughts were interrupted by Albert opening the door, the pinstripe suit he always wore in plain view.   “Well,” he said, “that’s a fine looking dog, I must say.”
“ORGANIC PRESENCE DETECTED,” said the Dog, a telescopic eye extending from its head to examine Albert.  “PROCESSING,” it said.  The clicking of lenses could be heard.  
Albert chuckled.  “Well, and it talks too, how bout’ that.”
Albert chuckled again.  “How bout’ that.”

After some time spent walking, where the majority of the time was spent convincing the Dog that cars were not “MANNED ASSAULT VEHICLES,” Gus, Albert, and the Dog arrived at the park, where they let the Dog off the leash.  It walked around some, and eventually found a pigeon.   
“Where’d you find that dog?” queried Albert, as the Dog, completely still, stared at the pigeon.
“I bought him.  The pet store owner said he was a Pekingese.” replied Gus, watching the Dog.  
“COLLECTING SAMPLE,” said the Dog.  Lighting-quick, a grappling arm shot out of the Dog, grabbed the pigeon, and sucked it inside.  “ANALYZING,” said the Dog, and a series of crunching and grinding noises came from within its frame, and red and green lights flashed all over its body.  
Albert nodded.  “Looks like it,” he said, as the Dog ejected a thoroughly analyzed, and very dead pigeon forty feet away and into the air, and directly into the lap of a very surprised elderly lady.  
Albert looked at the Dog thoughtfully, as the elderly lady, who now had a lapful of what could only be compared to pigeon meatloaf, reacted with pitch and volume.
“Tell me,” inquired Albert, “has he gotten his shots yet?”

Saturday, June 25, 2011

A parting thought

[NAME CENSORED]: Farewell!
Snooglebum: Goodbye!
Snooglebum: I will leave you with a parting thougth
Snooglebum: Thought.
Snooglebum: WHich is this:
Snooglebum: Don't let bees eat your pudding!
[NAME CENSORED AGAIN] is now Offline.
Your state is set to Offline.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Fact Und Fiction

May 3rd:
Well, hello there, you’re looking fine, my good virtual diary.  Today was quite the day!  I went out shopping with my mother, and got several bits of produce, therefore confirming the meaningless of my existence.  I sometimes wish I didn’t have to eat to survive, it would be convenient.  

May 4th:
I had a interesting dream last night; I was riding a minecart.  Inside the minecart was me, my sister, and a giant, anthropomorphic talking egg.  As far as I recall, we were trying to escape some sort of dictatorship.  It was very strange, to say the least.

May 5th:
We watched a film in class!  It involved an ape and a woman, and was quite the letdown, let me tell you.  
There he is.  Cheerful fellow.

May 7th:
I have been absent from my computer for some time, as I have been out playing Skeeball with some friends.  It is a game of skill, dexterity, and reflexes, and in terms of sheer challenge, it’s only match is tiddlywinks.  I swapped the tickets won for a large prosthetic animal, and now feel quite good about myself.

May 8th:
Quite the rainstorm today, in fact, there was a tornado warning.  I hate tornado warnings, because the part of my brain that takes care of such things interprets them less as “warnings” and more as “certainties”.  Because of this, the amount of times I have been convinced a oscillating death is upon me when it is more then it should.

May 11:
I am currently chewing upon a tissue box.  I wonder if it objects to the experience?  I mean, if it were to sprout a mouth and voice it’s objections, would it?  Or would it be pleased at the attention?  This bears thinking about.

May 12: Longcat is looooooooooooooooong.

May 13thhhhhh:
I wish I had prehensile hair so that I could traverse uneven terrain with ease, using my hair.  

May 14tH:
I meditated today, visualizing a typhoon made up of multiples of the face of the TV star Charlie Sheen.  It was a calming experience.


The colors are as calming as the imagery. 

Пятнадцатого мая:
Giant dinosaurs: if they could fly, I wonder if they would sing?  A song written by them:

May 16th:

May or may not 17th:
I am looking at my computer desktop.  It is a sorry sight.  Icons are scattered this way and that, like dead leaves in a pond.  I really should organize it, but whenever I think of doing that, a crushing sorrow descends upon my heart, and the desire leaves me.  

The blue TF2 backround really adds to the pond metaphor.  

May 21st:
I seem to have fallen into a time-hole, Doctor Who style.  Inside this hole is a banana, a poster for the Cracker Barrel, one of those little 4th of July tanks that you light up that throw sparks everywhere, and a monkey that is performing Beethoven's 3rd movement backwards.  How he’s performing it backwards is beyond me, perhaps he is a DJ and is proficient with sample reversing.  Classical music DJ monkey.


Shoop!  Wanananaana!  I’m not even winded!  Is anybody keeping track of my head batted’ in?  Boink!  Hey chuclekenuts!  You’re like a car crash in slow motion, I can see you, boom!  Right through a windshield!  I REGRET EVERYTHING!  EVERYTHING I’VE EVER DONE!

May Twnty Three:
I have been playing far too much Team Fortress 2.  MAAAAAAAAAGGGOTS!!!!

May 25th:

May 26th:

May 31st:

May 34th:

A small reward upon capture.

June 1st:
Well, enough of that silliness.  

Thursday, June 9, 2011

My Note Taking Process

The notes that I take tend to be rather useless, because most of them tend to read like this:

Experimental Films - Ahead of their time.  Very nice of my teacher to say that.  Theery relyy on self expresssisisojnnnnn.  THEY REBEL AGAINST THE STANDARD FORM OF FILMMAKING!  FREE AGAINST THE COMMERCIAL THING!  SOMETIMES REJECT HOW A FILM IS EXHIBITED!  VIVA LA RESISTANCE!!!  Also called underground films, avant-garde, also... personal films?  Really?  Aha!  Independant films!  Wait, they're not the same.  What?  Nonsesne!  What is this teacher talking about!

(Also, my apologies for all these school-related blog posts, the imaginary friends who are reading this, I am currently on the last day of class, so college is rather on my mind now.)

Monday, June 6, 2011

National Nation Day

There are several holidays on the calendar that seem to be no more then an excuse to imbibe and detonate explosives, so I felt like it would go unnoticed to add my idea of a new, pointless holiday to the revelry: National Nation Day.

On this, most celebrated of days, we would all celebrate the formation of our national nation.  We would all eat baked treats in the shape of our beloved country, and we would wave flags featuring our landmarks committing acts of petty crime against other countries.  Root beer spiked with cranberry juice would be the drink of choice, and for sport, all the strapping lads and lasses would go pigeon hunting.

It would quite the holiday.

Keep It Up, Don't Stop, Don't Lose Your Place

I was feeling a bit down, so I opened up iTunes, hoping that a song would cheer me up.  "Lighthouse", by New Villager came on, and the effect was immediate.  I took on the most peculiar expression: a smile tinged with casual confidence spread wide across my face, and I was swept up by a feeling of euphoria.  I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.  I knew I had to capture this feeling with words, before it evaporated like mist.  What an amazing song.