So I’m trying to play some Tekken online with some friends the other night but my PS3 was all like “I ain’t reading your cable buddy-guy!” to which I responded “Why not and since when could you talk?”. Turns out it didn’t feel like having anything plugged into it that night so I had to play wireless but Tekken Tag Tournment 2 has slick netcode so nobody was any the wiser.
Then the next day I tried to play some Street Fighter X Tekken online because the big patch is here and I have to pretend I didn’t openly despise the game all this time for at least a couple months. My PS3 finally consented to taking the cord, but the experience was . . . Jarring to say the least. The visuals would show a hit that was actually a block, people were randomly teleporting halfway across the screen instead of jumping . . . I don’t what game this was but it wasn’t the one I signed up for!
So I hit up Skype and talked to buddy I was playing online with the other night about how I should make amends to my internet. He suggested poetry and flowers.
. . . Genius!
It took me a week to make the arrangements but I knew it would be worth it. Then the time came on a quiet Friday evening. After laying a bouquet of several dozen roses onto the modem I brought in a local barbershop quartet to sing this poem:
You’re so fine.
Now please let me/
Just in case that wasn’t classy enough, I also paid them to sing this haiku:
“Oh you, internet.
Please, please, please, please, please, please, please
Work for me now? Please?”
My significant other questioned how I could afford all of this, especially since I told her I was too broke to do much for Valentine’s Day. To which I told her that maybe I would pay more attention to her if she did stuff like this:
(Don’t read too much into that one, okay?)
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 . . .
After many, many years of refining my latent psychic abilities I finally had a breakthrough. One day while I was extremely irritated a strange feeling permeated along the inner surface of my closed fist. This was exciting! I was very excited that this was happening!
Opening my right hand I found . . . Some Corn Flakes? Just then I felt a different sensation in my other hand. Opening that hand revealed a tiny immaculate Rice Krispie square. Placing both handfuls of food on the table in front of me I pondered and paced for hours trying to determine why I got the foods that I did from doing this.
Over the course of about a month or so I came to realize that strong emotions could be transmuted into physical foods with each emotion resulting in a different food. Experimenting on feeding various people without any side effects, it was decided that this ability could easily be used to help people in a discreet manner.
After planning out my next day off, I made sure to deprive myself of sleep to wake up in a terrible mood. My irritation filled boxes of cereal which I discreetly sealed and put into Corn Flake boxes that I had lying around which were opened and resealed from the bottom. I sat down at the computer and calmed down for awhile with some hot chocolate. Once I was relaxed enough I began to pull out bananas from the side of my closed hand like so many magician handkerchiefs.
As my memory is bad enough that I could hide my own Easter eggs I managed to leave some Lego pieces on the floor in the bathroom. In my anger I managed to focus that rage into several bags of carrots. Finally having enough food to fill a large bag I excitedly produced a couple of Rice Krispie squares for myself (I’m not sure how to donate those in a way that isn’t sketchy yet.) I made my way to the local food bank and made a rather large donation.
Someday I’m going to share this secret in the world. It’ll probably be a self-published eBook or something though. I’m assuming it’ll be hard for me to get a publisher to back me up on this. In the meantime try to support your local food bank through more traditional means!
Growing up in a small fishing village with limited internet access, I hadn’t even really seen the internet until I started going to the library at the age of 14 at the next town over. Parental attitudes toward the whole internet thing led to our home not having any internet access until I was . . . 16? Almost 17? Point is, I didn’t grow up in any sort of online culture. As a side note the e-mail address on the right portion of this site is my very first e-mail address. Seriously, as a 25 year-old I assure you I didn’t come up with that recently ha ha.
Fast forwarding to about a couple years later I move to the Halifax region (The biggest ‘urban’ area in Nova Scotia.) to start college. With my student loan I bought my first laptop and signed up for my own internet connection. Unfiltered usage of the internet without any supervision!? It blew my small town mind! So many “artistic films” about “love” to be seen!
When I wasn’t busy boosting local Kleenex® sales (Brand is important here!) I was playing this shitty little online game called U-Dominion. It was basically a cheap MMORPG that was entirely about moving a little guy around a grid of squares, fighting enemies entirely with auto-battle and grinding out levels so you can continue doing this on different grids. The game itself was even more of a grindfest than most games in the genre but it had an always-on global chat. I’m pretty sure most people came to view it as a chat room with a simple game rather than the other way around.
Eventually I start talking to this one particular person in-game and she ask for my MSN (RIP MSN.). After adding her she starts to tell me a sob story about how shitty her life is in Russia. She seemed to require constant consolation but I was naive and felt like playing the hero so I went along with it. She (or even he, I’ll never know) eventually sent me some pictures of some Russian model and claimed it was her. Even then I knew that wasn’t the case but I felt pity that (s)he would have to lie like that for a self-esteem boost instead of suspecting that something was up.
Eventually out of the blue one day this person started going on about how they wanted to hurt him(her)self and craved physical attention. I almost, almost followed along but then stopped and thought about it for a minute. Having a sudden realization I ask if she was turned on by the thought of someone rescuing her from various crises. (S)he confirmed that was the case. Whelp, I hadn’t encountered anything like that before, and my 18 year old small village mind was blown yet again. After stating that I didn’t want anything more to do with this and that I was never talking to this person again I got all sorts of death/hacking threats.
And that’s when I learned (Surprisingly fast given my upbringing.) that I should never, ever trust anything on the Internet.
tl;dr: Stop sharing crazy factoids on Facebook without at least checking Snopes first. People lie on the internet for fun.
So you thought it would be funny to sneak a baby elephant into your friend’s basement and raise it there without the owner of the home knowing eh? Figured that would make a nice little ‘prank’ did you? Whelp, now you have an elephant that’s stuck in a room and still growing. At this point you’re on the verge of animal abuse and I know you’re too good of a person to willingly do that. Even if you are a bit dumb at times.
While the home is being carefully dismantled around the elephant (How are you paying for all of this by the way?) the elephant will become quite agitated. As such it will be necessary to calm the elephant through speech. But how do you address an elephant in a proper manner? It’s not like normal human expressions of politeness will work here. That elephant doesn’t know the difference between the words ‘sir’ and ‘shithead’.
Tone of voice is important, but it’s also going to be a difficult thing to figure out in this scenario. After all there’s going to be (de)construction equipment all around which will make verbal communication next to impossible. But don’t try to yell over the rest of the noise as this will only make matters worse! The only time the elephant should hear you is in between periods of external noises. Keep calm and let the elephant you that you’re not a threat. Honestly, if you managed to herd it into a basement you likely already have an idea of how to talk to animals anyway.
As with any living human/animal/etc that doesn’t understand your language your tone of voice combined with body language is more important than your actual words. The actual words you use are meant solely to calm you down so that you can maintain your composure and continue to project a calm demeanor. So if calling the elephant a shithead will help you out here, go for it. Whatever helps.
If you are on good enough terms to touch the elephant without angering it then do so! Gentle stroking and petting goes a long way in keeping living beings calm. Avoid any sudden movements and you should be fine. The entire process should get easier over time because hopefully as the elephant adjusts to the noise around him/her, coping with the situation will be easier for both of you.
As for the inevitable lawsuit(s), criminal charge(s) and loss of a friend as a result of all this . . . I’m afraid I can’t help you there buddy. Sorry.
Even as I sat on the bus en route to his place the phone call still repeated itself constantly in my mind. It was a short call that consisted entirely of him calling me and stating that he had a real life Farfetch’d that I should come over to his house to see before he hung up. Had he finally gone mad? I think that was the thing I was most curious about.
Exiting the bus and making my way up the sidewalk he burst out of his front door with the excitement of a small child who had just gotten a video game system for Christmas despite the fact that his parents really couldn’t afford it. As he told me that he had been awaiting this day for his entire life my friend led me upstairs to his bedroom.
What awaited me was . . . Unexpected. A dead Mallard duck was propped up against a bookend with a leek shoved in its beak. After taking what must have been at least a solid minute or so I looked at this man whom I considered a friend and consciously blinked several times in an attempt to request an explanation without having to go through the awkwardness of actually asking.
“Isn’t it awesome!? I just found her lying on the side of the river by the elementary school just past the strip mall. Her name is Jet Leek. She’s too proud to live in a Poké Ball as you can see.”
Looking back at the duck it was then that I finally became aware of the smell. Thinking carefully about how to point out the obvious in a tactful manner I gave up and blatantly stated “I think it’s rotting dude.”.
“Nah, I haven’t had a chance to get her in the bath yet.”
At this point I had completely nothing. Nothing. Out of politeness and value for our friendship I congratulated him on his find and made up an excuse about running late for something. On the bus heading home I kept trying to process what had just happened. After a while I started to wonder why I was surprised.
After all, that’s like the fourth time he’s done that this year.