Thursday, September 29, 2011

Exciting! Conclusion!!!

*standard disclaimer, blah blah blah*

"I haff not forgot how you ruin my life! I am here to ruin yours!" (1. I don't know where dude is supposed to be from, but whatever. 2. I'm not sure how killing his bitch of a wife was ruining...anything, really, except maybe her hairdo?)

"What do you mean?" asked Victor. (Super smart, this one, no?)

Everyone could tell he was frightened. (How SHAMEFUL. A man with a gun just magically appeared in his, and he is FRIGHTENED. What a pussy.)

"I am going to kill your family one by one and I'm going to make you vatch them die! Then I vill kill you!" (I was just your average little girl with pigtails and a horrible blood lust. What?)

Chorkhoff raised the gun and aimed it at Kathryn.

"Ahhhhh!" Screamed Kathryn (as one does).

Joe stepped forward, knocked the gun out of Chorkhoff's hand and kicked it across the room. Royal bent, picked it up, and aimed it at Chorkoff's head. (As you do). With hatred in his voice he said, "You killed my mother and my sister. I should kill you, Pig!" (Dude. You hated your mother. Also, didn't I start this by saying all of these people hated it each other?). Victor then stepped forward and addressed Royal. "If you kill him, you go to jail (there is a cop in the room, after all, and a lot of other cops apparently milling around...speaking did dude get in here again? The world may never know, because I don't think I thought it was important...) We don't want that."

Royal dropped the gun. As Joe Brady's second in command walked Chorkhoff Garvenski out, Garvenski turned and screamed, "You took everything from me! My home, my family, my friends! I should haff killed you vhen I had the chance!" (And I would have gotten away with it, if it weren't for those meddling kids! Oh, sorry, that's something else, isn't it?)

(Apparently I wrote two endings to this? Here is the one I scratched out:) Today, Chorkhoff is still in jail. Victor remarried and now has the happiness he deserved. Royal ended up a missionary and he even converted Chorkhoff (cough Baptistschool cough), a man he once hated. Andrew is studying to be a CPA. Kathryn got over Julietta's death (uh. huh.) and became a teacher at an elementary school. To this day, they are all happy. (I think that I rejected this ending because do you know what it is missing? BLOOD. BLOOD and DEATH. And a twist.)

(Ending I felt happy with, I guess): As Brady's men led Chorkhoff away, Joe spoke up. "Victor, I hate to be a bother (???), but I have to know, how did you ruin Cherkhoff's life?"

"Sit down, Joe (now he's Joe, not Sergeant, apparently). It's a long story." Then Victor began the story of how he and Chorkhoff had once been best friends. Then Venetia had come along. "We were both crazy about her. She chose me over Chorkhoff, though I'll never understand why. Chorkhoff became angry. He spit on me and declared that one day he would kill me (would have made more sense to do it a little earlier, I would think, but okay?)" At this point there was a gasp and Royal fell to the ground. He had been shot through the heart (and you're to blame, Darlin', you give love, a you weren't thinking it). Everyone went pale as they realized what was going on. A murdered was still loosein the castle. They were being hunted. Shot down one by one until at last there was no one else. "Oh!" wailed Kathryn (wait. I thought there was no one else?) "This is awful! We're like those wooden animals in a carnival shooting gallery!"

"It'll be alright. We'll get this guy," Joe said comfortingly. (Dude. 3 dead people. THREE. And you have BEEN THERE THE WHOLE TIME. I do not think you are going to get this guy.)

Another shot rang out. (SEE?!?! PS when Royal was shot, no noise. now shots are ringing out?)

"Uh," moaned Victor. He had been hit in the shoulder. "Andrew! My son!"

They all looked to see Andrew holding a pistol. (Dude. DUDE. Why did you wait for the cops to show up to start on the killin'? Or why not wait till they left? WTF?)

"That's right, FATHER," he said sarcastically.

"But, why?" Victor asked. It was getting harder to breathe, and black spots were appearing his eyes. (He keeps his lungs in his shoulder, y'all!)But he had to know. Had to know why his own flesh and blood would want to kill him.

"Because. You all considered me a weakling. But I'm not weak anymore. I'm more powerful than all of you. You thought I didn't have the desire to be strong. You were wrong! I'm stronger than all of you put together!" All during this speech his voice had risen so he was shouting. When he had finished he spat at his father (people like to spit on Victor).

"How?" Joe asked.

"What?!" Andrew roared.

"How did you do it," Joe repeated.

"Mother was the easiest. Everyone was upstairs and she was so caught up in her thoughts she wouldn't hav enoticed me if I was standing in front of her. I merely hit her with the gun. Royal was easy because all I had to do was reach behind him and stick the gun in his back at the place where his heart would be and pull the trigger. Julietta was not so easy. She was across the room from me. I had to shhot her without being seen. In a way, it was fun (I...I may not have been right in the head, y'all). Having all that power, taking those chances. Now it's time to kill the rest of you off."

Joe jumped Andrew from behind (he's like a ninja, that one), wrestling him to the ground and throwing the gun across the room. Kathryn snatched it up and threw it out the window. Joe snapped some handcuffs on Andrew and walked him out as Kathryn quickly called 911 for Victor (aren't they...already there?). Victor got out of the hospital the next day (...). Joe helped Kathryn through 3 years of therapy (someone should probably have helped young Megs through a few years of therapy. also? weirdly specific, considering you have no idea what these people look like, what their castle looks like, where anyone is in relation to anything, or even how freaking old these people are.) They are now married (how old were these "kids" supposed to have been???) and have blessed Victor with 7 healthy, rambunctsious grand children.


Y'all. Y'ALL. I was not right in the head.

Monday, September 26, 2011

I like to have my most asinine moments recorded for posterity. Because I live to amuse. Or something.

I just needed to say this somewhere, and I'm really not up to the Facebook responses from people I don't know. But anyway, my husband signed me up for some life insurance (note to self: sleep with one eye open) and I just did the interview which is supposed to take 10 minutes and for some reason took me an hour and ten minutes. Because I'm special, obviously. Or maybe because I had to be revived after having a conversation over the phone with a perfect stranger about what I weigh (not telling- but I will tell you that I lied my ass off while my husband rolled his eyes at me. Look if it was a guy on the other end of the phone I probably wouldn't give a shit, but the girl sounded young and cute and I just couldn't tell her the truth. Don't you judge me), if I've put on more than 10 pounds in the last year (I have, then I lost it, then I put 15 back on), and why. What the hell do you mean WHY?

So I said, "General laziness I guess?"

While my husband's eyes rolled back in his head and he was like, "You run like every day. It's not laziness."

"Well, what do you think it is then?"

"You eat more."

And she wrote all of this DOWN.


Friday, September 23, 2011

Dun Dun Dun!!!! Part Deux

My calculations reveal that I was either 10 or 12 when I wrote this. It seems a little complex for 10 year old me, but a little...not good for 12 year old me, so I'm going with 10. All spelling and punctuation is preserved. Current commentary in parantheses. Blah blah blah. P.S. Apparently this was like my opus, my epic, my master work. It is somewhat long. Is what I mean. There will be several parts.

Part the Second:

Ten minutes later there came the sound of a siren. "Hello, there, I'm Sergeant Joe Brady." said the officer at the door. (Why is he a sergeant? Because why not, that's why).

"Hello" came a chorus of nervous voices.

"I'd like to get to know all of you before we begin this investigation. Names, please. Start with you." (I watched a lot of Hunter and Dragnet at this time. You'd think I would have had a better idea of how fictional police investigations work, but I guess...not.)


(I'm sort of impressed this is the correct number of names. I had a short attention span, and I'm surprised I didn't forget there were 2 girls, 2 boys, and 1 father. Also a little impressed that I wasn't overdosing on the dialogue tags. Look, I have to find something good in this okay? That's what I found. Shut up.)

"Alright. Now I'm going to ask you some questions. Starting with, uh, Royal, isn't it?" (Joe Brady thinks Royal is a really lame name for a prince, too!)


"Alright. The coroner (!!!) has estimated the time of death as 9:00 p.m. Where were you?"


"Any witnesses?"

"Well, I think just about everyone heard me yell down, but no one actually SAW me."

"Alright. Uh," Checking the notepad on which he had been writing. "Kathryn?"

"Yes" came the smooth reply (firstly, drink every time the cop says alright. Secondly, smooth reply is the name of my pretend jazz band)

"Where were you?" (Because she didn't see this question coming)

"I was upstairs with Julietta. She hates storms, you know. (He does?) We were upstairs in her bedroom."

"Alright. (Drink!)Julietta, your sister says you are afraid of storms. Is this information correct?" (Because this is relevant. Very, very relevant).

"Yes, sir. I am afraid of storms. And yes sir, we were together, " answered a very nervous Julietta. (I think I am trying to throw in some red herrings, y'all. Very very red herrings.)

"And you, Andrew?"

"I was in the kitchen with Father."

"Victor, is this true?"

"Yes, Sergeant, it is," came the reply.

"Alright (drunk yet?) I'll need to inspect the castle." (They are royalty, remember, even if Joe Friday here is treating them like regular folk).

"Of course," said Victor. "We do want to get this solved as quickly as possible."

"You'll forgive me for saying so, but none of you seems to (sic) upset about this, "said Joe. (Sergeant was getting boring to write out).

"Well, Sergeant, my wife, uh, Venetia, was not a very shall we say, loving, woman. She didn't want children, and yet as she would say, she got stuck with them. Doesn't seem very fair does it?" said Victor drily. (???)

"Fair?" asked Sergeant Brady. "What do you mean fair?" (Exactly my question!)

"Well, some children spend their entire lives trying to have children, adopt children or what have you, and here a woman who didn't even want them got FOUR. She was so busy not wanting them that she failed to see how wonderful they really are." (said their deadbeat father...also, can you tell from this that I was adopted?)

By this time Kathryn and Julietta had tears streaming down their cheeks and Royal and Andrew had their heads bowed.

"I see," Brady said quietly. "Well, we'll try to wrap this up quickly."

"Thank you, sir, my family and I would appreciate it." King Victor stated with great dignity. this woman must have been awful to live with every day, Joe Brady thought. The old man seems sincere and all these kids! They don't look like they could be murderers. Of course, looks can be deceiving Joe thought. All of a sudden a gun shot sounded. Julietta Pauline Winthrop fell to the floor dead.

"No!" screamed Lady Kathryn. She fell to the floor, grabbed her sister, and held her.

"She's gone, Kathryn" Royal whispered. "Get up, please don't make it any harder on any one else." (What. The. Fuck. Was wrong with me?)

Kathryn got up but she was still crying. The coroner and a large burly police officer came in and carried the body out. Andrew was trying to calm her. Then a man with a gun stepped out of the shadows. "Hello, Victor." he said.

"Chorkhoff!" gasped Victor.

"Yes, it's me," Chorkhoff said calmly.


P.S I cannot comment on my own posts, apparently, but I just read through the last of this story...I was not right in the head, y'all. This shit gets weird. Er. Part 3 should be fun.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Untitled story about royal deadbeats and murder most foul, Part 1.

I found another of my fiction masterpieces from my childhood. Since nothing interesting is currently going on, I want to share. Current commentary in parentheses.

It was a dark, stormy night. (Because of course it was).Dark clouds rumbled, and streaks of white lightning (sp) lit the sky. It was almost as bad inside the castle as it was outside. Let me stop a moment and explain. (I was really into this conceit of speaking to the reader directly for some reason). The year is 1992. The castle is a true castle where princesses and queens live and kings and princes. You see, royalty still lives there. (In case that wasn't clear when I listed all the types of royal people who live there).But this royal family is about as happy as Charles and Di were. (I...have no idea). Somebody is always jealous of somebody else. Tonight though, while the only light comes from faintly glowing candles, is the perfect time for revenge.

"Ohhh!" moaned Princess Kathryn. "Ohhh! I ache all over. Why did this stupid storm have to come just when I needed to go out?" (She aches all over, but she needs to go out at night? Where do you suppose she needs to go? I'm asking because I doubt I ever get around to explaining that. Bo.Ring.Also, the number of Hs in those Ohhhs is exact).

"Oh, Kathryn," snapped her mother. "You know the only time you ever go out is to see the doctor. And even then we have to force you to go. Unless of course it's impossible to go anywhere. THEN you want to go out. Now go back up to your room or go somewhere. Just leave me alone." (Mother of the year, right here).
"Yes, Mother," said the princess unhappily. Thunder rumbled loudly. (I clearly just discovered adverbs. You could start a drinking game with this sentence).

"Ahhh!" Came a scream. Then a form hurtled down the stairs caliding (sp) with Kathryn and knocking both to the floor. "Julietta Pauline! You get off me this instant!" snapped Kathryn.

"Sorry Kathryn but you know how I hate storms."

"Girls, you both get yourselves upstairs! I am trying to think!"

"Trying to think of what Mother?" asked Julietta anxiously.

"Never mind of what! Go upstairs!"

"Yes, ma'am," they chorused.

"Whatever shall I do with those girls?" Venetia Winthrop asked herself. You see, she wasn't really cut out to be a mother. It wasn't even what she had wanted. (You don't say).

But here she was, married to a worthless deadbeat with 2 daughters and 2 sons. How had this happened? (I was probably seriously asking, but now all I can think Sex is how this happened. Moron. Also...he is somehow a royal deadbeat, who is still married to her...I'm not sure how this works?)

All of a sudden she felt a thud and the world went black.

"Mother!" called a male voice from upstairs, "Could you get me a bagel?" (Royalty. Just like you and me).

Hearing no sharp reply, Prince Royal (Prince. Royal. Prince Royal. Good grief.)called again, "Mother?" Coming down the stairs he called, "Mother!" He passed her chair and walked into the foyer, (I'm still not sure what a foyer is), the kitchen, the great dining room. He turned and ran back to the living room. He checked her chair and there she was slumped over and very, very dead (Didn't he just walk by this chair? Do you suppose I intended these people to be functionally impaired? Also, please note the level of deadness. She is not just dead. She is very very dead. She is very most definitely dead). He screamed and everyone came running. "Father, she's de-de-dead!"

"Make some sense, Royal! Who's dead?" their father asked. (Their royal worthless deadbeat father. Who is still living there and helping care for his children).


"Venetia?" he said incredulously. (No, their other mother. Maybe I was implying something about royalty and inbreeding? Yeah, I doubt it.)

"Father, look at the gash on the back of her head!" cried Julietta. "I'm going to call the police!"


Saturday, September 10, 2011

My thoughts, I will tell you them

1. The spirit of Martha Stewart has invaded my body. I am baking bread. Like right this minute. After a day of yardwork and housecleaning. I am a little frightened of myself right now.

2. Why are people who run consignment stores always so fucking snotty? Man, you peddle used clothing. You are not better than the people who shop here. I have a friend whose theory is that people don't think they are getting a good deal if you aren't totally shitty to them. My personal thoughts on this are that if I am going to give you some of my moneys you should probably be relatively nice to me. And the more moneys I am planning to give you, the nicer you should be. Because I'm pretty sure I can find someone to take my money who will totally kiss my ass, like the whole time. Not that ass kissing is required, just, you know, better than you treating me like I walked in off the street and shit on the carpet or something (I'm assuming here - I've never actually done that. But its how I imagine I would react to someone doing that...I have never done that. Just wanted to be clear.)

3. People at 4-way stops who wave you through when its their turn to go are not actually nice. They are assholes who are messing up the whole flow of the stop. Also, they always seem to be doing it impatiently, like they are doing you a big favor and you should hurry or like they think its your turn even though they have been at the stop since before you pulled up or are clearly to the right of you or whatever. I really wish people would stop doing this. It makes me irrationally angry for extended periods of time (note to self: look into therapy). Also irritating? People who get so far up my ass while driving that I feel like I should ask them to wear a condom. Especially when I look down and see that I'm going 10 miles over the speed limit. I mean really people chill. I highly doubt you are on your way to save kittens from cancer or something.

To sum up: please call an exorcist because this domestic crap is frightening me and also drivers of the world stop being assholes. That is all.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

This is what pure happiness looks like

My goal is to be as happy about anything as my dogs are to be awake, alive, and outside in the grass.

Also, if you could, ignore the weird outdoor carpeting. That's been ripped out since these were taken. I really don't think I can live in a world where strangers think that I think that that carpeting is okay. That is not okay.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Like Steven Spielberg's version of the 70s, which never actually happened.

Today is 12 weeks without a cigarette or any nicotine of any kind. It gets easier all the time, but a weird thing I am noticing is how gold-tinged and happy my memories of smoking are. Like, me and a 6-foot tall cigarette holding hands and skipping barefoot through a field of daisies, heads thrown back in laughter, while cartoon birds flit about, and a Randy Newman song plays in the background. And maybe ponies or something. I know it wasn't actually like that, but that's how I remember it. I have no idea why that is.

Actually, I had a pony as a kid. That dude was a total bastard. Ponies kind of suck. Which I know is disillusioning for the non-pony people among us. So maybe there weren't ponies, is what I mean. There might have been unicorns though.

In other news, I actually have no news. I'm just trying to get back in the habit of writing more again, and I haven't actually left the house since Friday. Except maybe to go for a couple of runs. And nothing of note really happens on my runs. Well, there was the one time a truck with like 18 people crammed into the cab followed me for about half a mile and there was another time that there were black adolescents in my vicinity and a middle aged white woman felt compelled to pull over, inform me of their presence, and caution me to be careful, even though I had run by these kids like 5 minutes previously and they were perfectly polite. I think those two things only count as stories if I end up on CNN or find $100 or something.

I...went through our file cabinets today and threw out/shredded/filed a bunch of crap? Also, continued the never ending civil war against the spiders. I knock down webs, they build more webs. I never see an actual fucking spider. But I know that every day I go to open the microwave and put my hand through a fucking web. I don't know why this is happening to me, but it seems like a good reason to blog more frequently. If you don't hear from me you can assume the spiders won the war and I'm all wrapped up in one of those weird white balls they make.

I learned today that garter snakes can spray a musk at predators. I learned this because one of the dogs found a garter snake in the yard and the snake did not appreciate being found. The dog was completely unbothered by the spraying, but we already knew she was mentally challenged, so that's not really surprising. you know, or some other cliche that makes this post somewhat relevant to anything, anywhere.