Gentlemen of Irrepute

A bottle of Slophouse Reserve Whiskey slammed into the side of a table, leaving the holder of the bottle’s neck, a muscular bull of a man, with a viciously pointy weapon. To either side of him, two steps behind, were two men, one wielding a still-smoking black powder pistol as a club and the other with an as-of-yet unshattered brother to the leader’s bottle. The mob advanced toward the two men in the corner, one tall and lanky with dark brown hair and prominent muttonchops and the other of average build with a mess of black hair and a perfectly managed goatee. Both men wore the outfits of the Pizon harbor laborers and held a small dagger they had taken from their recently shot. Crouched defensively in the corner of the now vacant saloon, they argued frantically in hushed half-whispers.

“I told yeh, Chops, we gotta do this diplomatically.” The shorter one said, slipping the word ‘die’ into ‘diplomatic’. “But naaooo, you hed to go and take a captive!” He spat on the bleeding corpse in front of him.

Chops sneered at his shorter companion. “And I told you we should wait for Snide. But ‘naoooo’,” he said, mimicking the other’s accent, “You had to go and start tossing around that your one of the Gentlemen! I mean, really, Goat, what’s diplomatic about walking up to the Duke of Pizon and telling him,” he switched into an accent again, ‘The Renown Gentlemen of Class, Fortune, and Irrepute are heeyah for yer valu’bles and yer daugh’er’?”

Goat and Chops looked at each other, still sneering, before throwing the knives toward the oncoming trio. They found sheaths in an eye and a throat, leaving the leader standing alone. It dawned on him that his prey now outnumbered him and had hidden skills, so he flung the bottle toward the two, which veered widely, and fled out the door.

Chops bent down and retrieved the dagger as well as a couple of coins and the unbroken bottle before turning back to Goat.

“For an ultimatum like that, we needed to wear suits.”

Bears

“You know, I talked to this old Indian once, like, ten years ago. He was giving out advice. One of the things he said was, ‘If you hear a bear growl at night, it is an ill omen’. I mean, it was phrased differently and in a weird accent, but that’s what it boiled down to. I told him that everyone should know that, because it meant a bear was inside your house. He scowled and left after that. Do you think this bear might be his spirit animal?”

The other two were quiet for a minute before Jesse turned toward me and said, “So, your smart ass is what is going to get us killed by a grizzly? I knew that when we were kids, I just figured it would be a cop or Russians. A bear kind of caught me by surprise.” She slid down the door until she sat on the ground leaning against it. Standing next to her, also leaning, I pat her on the head.

“If it makes you feel any better, I think technically it’s death by Indian. I think he becomes the bear or something.” She scrunched up her face and thought about it, and it got quiet except for the sound of the bear rooting around downstairs.

A few minutes passed before Mark stood up and walked to the front of the door.

“I’m gonna fight that bear.”

Jesse and I both looked up at the same time, but her brain processed “What?” faster.

Mark was stretching his arms and responded, “I’m tired of waiting here. It’s boring. I’ll go fight the bear.”

I walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Look, man. I know this has been one of your dreams, but seriously, when we get back home, I’ll contact a circus with a trained bear and you can fight that one. I’ll even hire someone to play the banjo. I’ll hire Kenny Chesney to play the banjo for you while you fight that bear. And we’ll have an ambulance nearby. Let’s just wait this one out.”

“We’ve been waiting up here for two hours. I’m bored.”

Jesse looked at me. “Is he crazy?”

I thought for a second. “No, he’s not crazy. He’s really sane. He just gets bored. I think the only thing he won’t do is stuff like skydiving and bungee jumping. He has arachnophobia of heights.”

“Uh, fear of spiders of heights?”

Jesse cleared up my misconception of how phobias worked.

This is all I do anymore

The Abscondant Hobo: So, I got in a fight with this guy, right?
The Abscondant Hobo: Well, wasn't really a guy. More like a little girl.
The Abscondant Hobo: But she was pretty beefy. like, 5'4, 100 lbs.
The Abscondant Hobo: Mean right hook
The Abscondant Hobo: Anyway
The Abscondant Hobo: I got in a fight with her.
The Abscondant Hobo: Turns out that if you tie a rocket to a little girl's doll, set it off, and pretend it's the Challenger, she gets mad. So does her grandmother.
The Abscondant Hobo: Well, needless to say, betwen the two if them I got my ass kicked.
The Abscondant Hobo: So I'm sitting in the hospital half doped up on morphine and I look next to me, and who do I see?
The Abscondant Hobo: David Bowie.
The Abscondant Hobo: I never found out what he was doing there, but he took me on a magical journey through the bathroom mirror to a land inhabited by wonderous creatures
The Abscondant Hobo: At one point we were being flown through a starry sky that was all the colors of the rainbow, his Bowie Arms gently keeping me from falling off the giant Eagledragon, when we were attacked by the Campbellians, a radical sect of Bruce Campbell fans.
The Abscondant Hobo: The Eagledragon fell and I was separated from Bowie. All I could do was scream as I fell from the clouds
The Abscondant Hobo: I passed out on the way down and woke up in a small shack in the woods, a beautiful woman caring for me.
The Abscondant Hobo: My entire body was wrapped in giant banana leaves. I spent eight days recovering. By that point, the leaves had become one with my skin.
The Abscondant Hobo: When I returned to town, everyone saw me as a monster. A police officer tried to baton me, but the banana leaves turned my skin into a thick armor.
The Abscondant Hobo: Eh, ok, I'm tired now.

My boat

The Abscondant Hobo: Ok.

The Abscondant Hobo: So.

The Abscondant Hobo: We got this boat, right?

The Abscondant Hobo: Tiny damn thing.  More like a kayak.

The Abscondant Hobo: It's got a hole in it.

The Abscondant Hobo: But for some reason, it ain't sinkin'.

The Abscondant Hobo: So I started an exorcism.

The Abscondant Hobo: And it turns out that my wife was possessed, but the boat was clean.

M4573rF4c70r3r: Go on.

The Abscondant Hobo: So we had to form a posse to hunt down the rogue demon that was possessing her.

The Abscondant Hobo: However, the Priest ended up being a cultist.  He misled us until he finally showed his cards.

The Abscondant Hobo: While he was giving his monologue, Larry, the rancher, shot him.

The Abscondant Hobo: Tom the Accountant took his priestly garb.  He's now the Father.

The Abscondant Hobo: By now, the demon that was in my wife fled the area.  Turns out my real wife?  She's not a whole helluva lotta friendly.

M4573rF4c70r3r: Haha

The Abscondant Hobo: So we had to get Blessed Tom the Accountant to annul the divorce under grounds of demonic possession.

The Abscondant Hobo: We're not sure if that's cool in the Church or not, but he said it was cool, and he IS the priest.

The Abscondant Hobo: The next day, a horde of demons burned our town.  One possessed my kayak.

The Abscondant Hobo: The end

M4573rF4c70r3r: By the wife's demon?

The Abscondant Hobo: I can't keep track of 'em all.

M4573rF4c70r3r: Ah, true.

M4573rF4c70r3r: Fuckin' demons.

The Abscondant Hobo: But that reminds me of another story.

M4573rF4c70r3r: Most things do.

The Abscondant Hobo: So, I was fightin' demons this one time, right?

M4573rF4c70r3r: Right.

The Abscondant Hobo: And we were in a pitched battle.  Neo-Crusaders vs. the Darkened Hordifex.

The Abscondant Hobo: Trench warfare.  Mustard Gas vs. Slung Sulfur.

The Abscondant Hobo: Finally, both sides made a final push.  The carnage was terrible.

The Abscondant Hobo: Me?  I went the other way.

The Abscondant Hobo: Made it to a river.  Found a boat.

The Abscondant Hobo: Tiny damn thing.  More like a kayak.

M4573rF4c70r3r: Eheh

The Abscondant Hobo: I rowed it down the river and landed on the other side.

The Abscondant Hobo: Then, just to make sure that no one would try use it to chase after me, I knocked a hole in it.

The Abscondant Hobo: But I had some Futuremesh, nigh invisible fabric used mainly to patch up gaping wounds.

The Abscondant Hobo: So, just in case, I put it on the hole and booked it.

The Abscondant Hobo: I journeyed for days and weeks, never leaving the forest.

The Abscondant Hobo: Eventually, I found a nice spot by the river and built a house, made a life in the nearby town.

The Abscondant Hobo: I found a boat near the river.

I bet you thought I had left, didn't you?

Most humble apologies.  Between finals, graduation, Christmas, New Years/My Birthday, the parties and get togethers that accompany all of those things, and the hopelessness of looking for a job that is ok with me not having 5+ years in disco ball repair kind of put a damper on my blog updating/awesome writing talent.  I'll try to get on that.  It's not like I haven't been writing ANYTHING, just nothing long enough to warrant posting.  Though I suppose that something is better than nothing, so... blah.  I'll try and be better.  Though if you're really pumped, let me know you miss my smarm and I'll be much more likely to indulge you!

All Nighter Hijinks

Sorry for the lack of posts. End of semester crunch. Speaking of, I pulled an all nighter. I think I'm the most hilarious person on the planet in those wee hours. Here are the two things that tickled my fancy today:

1) A friend of mine logged on facebook. Here's what I spammed within forty seconds:

My eyes buuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrnnnnnn

With righteous fuuuurrrrrrrrrryyyyyyy

Of a thousand wintery Christmasesssssssssssssssss

Of outrageous ragggggggggeeeeeeee

The likes of which haven't been seen since the Third Intergalactic Fightin' Space Operrrrraaaaaaaaaaaa

Where Chester MacDougal and his Pugilistic Pachyderms faced off against the Clown Herd known only as Pocketttttssssssss




I really like the idea of a clown organization named Pockets. The idea I had originally was that it was one kind of fat clown with like, a hundred pockets, and each pocket had a tiny, like, six inch clown that lived inside it.


2)This was left on my sister's facebook wall in three installments a few minutes apart:

HANNAH. OH GOD. I'M HOPPED UP ON ENERGY DRINKS. I THINK I'M SICK, I DON'T KNOW. I HAD A FEVER MAYBE LAST NIGHT. MY HEAD FEELS FUNNY, AND THIS PAPER STILL ISN'T DONE. I THINK I HEAR GREMLINS. SEND HELP. MAY NOT RESPOND, SIGNAL GETTING WEA--BEEP, BEEP-BEEP, BEEEEP BEEP-BEEP - ::end morse code::

::Bzzt...Kshhht:: -ERE! We can't hold them out anymore, SOMEONE GAVE THE DAMNED PENGUINS RIFLES! We're going to send Jeeves out there to try to reason with them. Will update on the situation. Wait, does that one have hedge clippers? Damnit, is he going after the power cabl--

::User Logged In: HELPPENGUINSARERAPINGJEE::
HELPPENGUINSARERAPINGJEE: Anyone here? They cut our power and cable lines. The laptop only has a few minutes and the satellite signal is pretty shaky. Look, we need help, penguins are raping Jeeves. He went out there with some fish, and I guess holding fish and not immediately eating it is a rapeable offense in Penguin Culture. Anyway, while they've been busy, we reinforced the door. Battery's dying, will try to find another way here.




...Heeeeeehe.

Oh, I forgot one other thing. This was mid-conversation, but I'm cutting that out.

[09:46] TheAuburnDragon: That spells MATT LEVEL OF LUSHNESSOCITUDE
[09:46] TheAuburnDragon: -5 to Sobriety, +5 to Imagined Sex Appeal
[09:47] TheAuburnDragon: +10 to Hilarity Modulator, +20 to Wiskideek
[09:47] TheAuburnDragon: 0 to Alcohol Tolerance
[09:48] Snuggs1420: But see, I don't get Wiskideek
[09:48] TheAuburnDragon: +Goat
[09:48] Snuggs1420: In fact, drinking gives me +50 to omgIwantya
[09:48] TheAuburnDragon: Ok
[09:48] TheAuburnDragon: Ok, ok ok, so
[09:48] Snuggs1420: It's a girl thing
[09:48] TheAuburnDragon: If I ever create a game or RPG
[09:48] TheAuburnDragon: I'm going to give someone an item that is +Goat
[09:48] TheAuburnDragon: And I won't tell them what it does
[09:48] Snuggs1420: lol
[09:48] TheAuburnDragon: Until the next time they're on a mountain
[09:49] Snuggs1420: Hahahaha
[09:49] TheAuburnDragon: And a mountain goat fucking butts them off the mountain
[09:49] Snuggs1420: oooooo, you know what this reminds me of?
[09:49] TheAuburnDragon: ....What can this possibly remind you of?

She then linked a WoW video with is irrelevant.

You've finished the post! You gain Penguin Battle Armor: +20 to Pockets, +15 to Butlery, +5 to Adorability, +SeaLion.

...I suggest you don't go in the ocean.

You Awaken - First Installment

I'm going to try to at least pretend to participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).  Here's what I've done today.

-------------------------------

            You awaken several hours later in a daze. The lights are off and you can't see. At your feet you feel something heavy and warm. There is a hard pillow beneath your head. A whirring sound softly emanates from off to your left.

            You reach left and your hand taps into a glitchy lava lamp. The bump causes it to flicker to life, illuminating the room in a red glow. The cat on your feet blinks angrily at the light and moves to under the bed. The door is closed, as are the curtains over the window. You are pretty certain this isn't your room.

            You sit up and open the blinds.  It’s night time and a full moon is out.  You’re on the third floor of this building.  Outside is a narrow, two lane street with cars lining it.  Across the street is an old brick building with a purple neon sign depicting a sultry lady.  A name is on the bottom, but the only letters that work are I, E, and N.

            You try to open the window, but it is jammed.  The cat has emerged from under the bed and is now pawing at the door expectantly.

            You get out of bed to go open the door.  You’re wearing pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt.  The shirt is black with a waving, smiling stick figure on it.  There’s a piece of paper in your right pocket.  It’s a crumpled photograph.  It looks altered, like two different pictures were combined at the center.  Half of it shows a vaguely familiar woman and the other shows a vaguely familiar man.

            You open the door.  Outside the room is a white-wallpapered hallway lit by a series of dingy yellow lights and home to a dark red carpet.  It stretches far to the right, doors lining it at fifteen foot intervals on both sides.  The left has two more doors before it rounds a corner.  Old, tinny music emanates from one of the rooms to the right.  The cat runs to the left and around the corner. 

            You walk toward the music.  You can’t see the end of the hallway.  You pass doors with no discernable labeling order: A37, 1115, 42C, Q. The music seems to be getting closer - Hush, hush, hush, here comes the Bogeyman - but when you turn around, you’re one door down from the room you just left.  The music abruptly fades back into the distance.  A light far in the distance flickers off.