Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeah buddy!

There’s a five alarm fire and I just remembered my desire. I wanna go into the sky and keep going higher.

Y’all don’t even know how bad I want this.

When I was a preteen I climbed a tree and reached for the stars. It took the firemen like an hour to talk me down but I saved on time by falling out of the tree instead. I may have spent six or seven years in intensive care and had my Sega Genesis taken away for part of that period but it was totally worth it to live the dream for just a moment.

Having spent most of my late childhood/early teens in the hospital without even so much as a day pass left me unable to cope with the social pressures of high school. When I wasn’t busy being thrown into every object imaginable (Glass beaker displays were the worst!) I spent my days looking forward to the night so I could stare at the stars. I just wanted to be among the stars sooooooooo hard it hurt me deeply.

Now where was I . . .

Oh right! I’m being burned alive in this fire! I think this will have to be the end of the post as I am now dead. Cheers!



We all know the song “Fly Me To The Moon,” right?

Just so we’re in the clear I love this song just like everyone else in the world (and not just because I was brainwashed to do so by Bayonetta). However, the whole romantic flight to space thing that has been mentioned many times in popular culture has left me more than a little puzzled.

Right off the bat there’s the attire you’ll both be wearing. Either you’ll be remaining within the spacecraft to have a more relaxed variety of clothing options in which case you’re just spending your trip inside (although the view out the window would be nice I guess) or you’ll be outside of the space craft and wearing space suits. I’ve honestly never been in a space suit but I have never seen a picture of a person wearing a spacesuit that has led me to thinking of anything particularly romantic. Aside from that bit of craziness in Final Fantasy VIII of course.

Then there’s space itself. Although the scenery would be extremely beautiful and two people could truly feel alone together, I feel like the latter would be a novelty that would wear off quickly. Realistically two people can only admire themselves with no interruption for so long before boredom would set in. A time that would be much, much shorter than the time it would take to get into space in the first place.

All in all it seems like an excursion would to space may be somewhat romantic if you could make the trip easily, but with that said if it became easy to travel to space then everyone would do it and it would take much of the power and intimacy of such a trip in the first place. Or maybe I’m just jaded.


For my 100th post, I remembered that I started this blog to tell silly stories!

I was monitoring my monitor looking for miniature Minotaurs to go on a mini-tour through Ecuador. As both bodyguards and storytellers they simply can’t be beat. After about 17 hours of fruitlessly staring at my screen I decided that the whole thing was a waste of time. Partially because I’m not actually going on any sort of tour, but mostly because Minotaurs don’t exist anyway.

Shutting off my computer, I decided to lay down on my carpet. Sometimes you just gotta lay on the floor, you know what I mean? If you don’t understand then I don’t know what to say. Anyhoo . . . My eyelids began to feel heavy, the lack of sleep finally beginning to catch up with me.

Not knowing how long I had dozed off for, I awoke gently. Unfortunately that was the last gentle moment that I would ever experience.

Ever get that feeling where you stick to a chair after sitting on it in your underwear/while nude for so long? I was getting that feeling from carpet. I tried to get up but couldn’t move. I looked over and was horrified to see that I was quickly being swallowed up by the carpet.

Before I knew it I was one with the carpet. Or to be more accurate, one within the carpet. It was odd. The mass of carpet grew around me as I remained in the center. I didn’t understand what was happening, nor did I have any way of knowing just how far and how fast this mass of carpet was growing. It was like my own little world. But isn’t wasn’t a very nice world. I was still completely stuck. I guess coffin would be a better word for it? Yeah, let’s go with coffin.

For some reason I felt like I had gone through this many times before. I simply closed my eyes and accepted my impending death. My living room floor is my home now, and layers of dirt that vacuum cleaners miss are the only things I know. The last thing I felt before passing out from a lack of air was a rather fuzzy feeling.

I would eventually awake in a grassy field. And only the panda suit remained . . . 


100 bees! Which one is your favourite?

“The Timbit war.” A story of violence and pseudo-erotica.

It appears that I have been challenged to some sort of Timbit battle. I’m not entirely sure what this entails but it sounds like it will require far more Timbits than I could possibly afford. Good thing I’ve planned for such an event my entire life.

After purchasing a single Timbit I made my way to a nearby field. I held the Timbit above my head in my right hand with a loose fist. Then brought my right elbow down to my waist as I crushed the Timbit while letting out a mighty yell. This would become the cause of many regrets.

A warm sensation overcame me as I began my transformation. It was tingly and exciting. It felt like the time that guy in the locker room at the gym told me that my shirt was nice and I told him I got it 30 percent off the other day only to have him follow up with “Why don’t you come over here so we can get it 100 percent off?”. As I admired his chis . . . Woah, where am I going with this!?

Anyway, so within seconds I became a trio of Timbits with a shape and size not unlike that of a traditional snowman. I hop up and pound down on the ground. Within a radius of several feet the ground develops into a Timbit-like substance. As I hop again the transformation spreads throughout the Earth at an exponential rate. Within mere hours the entire planet and everything on it is merely one giant Timbit with myself in control. For the record it’s totally a chocolate Timbit, screw the haters.

I steer the planet-sized treat into Mars to assimilate it and make the Timbit even larger. The Milky Way is my home now, and brand name donut holes are the only things I know. The last thing I felt before passing out from the sugar rush was elation that I had finally succeeded in my goal of becoming an asteroid of sorts.

I wake up in a grassy field. And only the panda suit remains . . . 

Wait, you said we would be dueling with tidbits? I’m so sorry Dizzy, I read that e-mail kind of fast at work and misread it. 😦

Worse than a hair sweater.

Nothing looked odd at first whilst I was looking at myself in the mirror as I was brushing my teeth. But after I looked down to spit and looked back up it seemed that my hair was . . . Fuller? A little thicker . . . Maybe a bit longer? It was morning, maybe I’m tired, I dunno. I started a new temporary contract yesterday and couldn’t afford to be late so I didn’t think to much about it and went on my way.

As I was walking down the street my hat came off of my head. I picked it up off the ground and put it back on, noting that it appeared to be fitting a little more tightly than usual. Again, I assumed I was just tired and continued on to work.

Arriving at the office I could no longer shake off the odd feeling I had in my head. Having shown up a few minutes early I went to check things out in the bathroom. By this point my hair had already become shoulder length. Shoulder length and still excessively curly. Something was up. Way up.

Just as I realized that something was wrong my hair starting growing so fast that within seconds the tiny room was filled with hair. From there it only began to grow more quickly and thickly. Just as I was about to choke from lack of air/excess of hair the force of the hair made the room burst open. This in turn led to the destruction of the building and the vast amount of hair caused me to propel to the air. I continued to be moved upward by the increasing mass of hair below me until I entered space. As this point the planet was already off its orbit but since it was becoming covered in hair as well I assumed that pretty much meant the end of everything on Earth.

As I traveled in an unknown direction in space hair began to grow out of every part of my body. Different masses of hair attached themselves to different planets, moons and other assorted space matter. Somehow things were about to get worse. Worse as in all of the planets fought back by absorbing and retracting the hair at the same time. This in turn caused my body to be slowly ripped apart into thousands of little pieces.

Space is my home now, and hair is the only things I know. As my body is spread out throughout the universe I eventually black out from the pain. The last thing I saw was an asteroid made entirely out of hair coming straight for my forehead.

I wake up in a grassy field. And only the panda suit remains.

Food art kind of isn't my thing.

It’s just a wisp of a thing!‏

As I sat at my cubicle a tiny rock caught my eye. Barely large enough to see without straining. Must’ve gotten stuck in my shoe or something.

Picking it up I pondered what kind of journey must’ve led it here. Was this rock always native to Nova Scotia? Perhaps it was stuck to the shoe of a visitor. A distant visitor? More than likely a visitor from within the province, but what if it was from an international tourist?

What if this rock had somehow managed to travel here from another country? Oh, there are so many to choose from. What climates has this rock been exposed to? Was this a piece of a rock that had drifted to show from the frigid waters of the north? Or perhaps it was a rock that was at the very center of the equator. Maybe this rock was from the very center of the earth and was carried out by a volcano!

*Gasp* Could it be that this rock is a piece of a meteorite!? That would be so cool! If this rock could tell its tale maybe it would tell me a story of the wonders of space. Is there life in space that can live without air? This could . . .

. . . Aww damn, I dropped it. Now I can’t find it . . . Oh hey, that pencil is unusually shiny! I wonder what kind of journey must’ve led it here . . .


I need to massage something right now.‏

My hands quiver as I feel the need to just rub something gently. I look around the city street I’m on. Not a single person in sight, although massaging random people is just creepy anyway.

The rain falls heavy creating an extremely familiar atmosphere. I’m drenched, the street is drenched, the buildings are drenched but somehow I don’t feel wet at all. I look around. A fire hydrant, various doors without knobs, street lights and stairs. None of these will do any good to me now.

I keep running. I run until I can’t feel feelings, only the pounding of my bare feet against the sidewalk. I see a potted plant. Yes, this will work. I shove my hands into the soil and enjoy the gloopy sensation.

A panda joins me. He gives me a panda suit as a salutation. I change into the suit and we knead the soil together. The sky begins to change color. It becomes various shades of magenta. The flower that was in the pot has shrunk away and has been replaced by a small man.

That man is me.

From the pot I start to sing. I’m now watching myself knead the soil around me from a smaller set of eyes and a new perspective. I sing the song of attrition. At the same time I sing the song of growth from my old perspective to counteract myself.

I grow from the pot as the pot grows with me. I have become much taller than myself and although my feet are in the earth my head is now in the clouds. I frighten off the panda and myself, but it is okay. I have done what I had to do to help me grow.

Reaching down and grabbing handfuls of the planet below me I begin to eat it. I eat and eat until the planet is no more. This takes years. Space is my home now, and the pot is the only thing I know. I believe I have feet but I can’t be sure for I haven’t seen them since I began rubbing the soil.

An asteroid breaks the pot. The soil spills out and to my horror I have become the soil. I have been essentially ripped apart and as my body is spread throughout the universe I black out from the pain.

I wake up in a grassy field. And only the panda suit remains.