Two Bodies and a Gas Cap

  She was a petite thing. Well, now she was a petite thing. Jack always called her fat in a joking way. It still got to her. One failed workout and she changed to the bulimic toilet bowl diet. Oddly, this is the reason she found the pink lipstick whose true owner was Niki, as was marked by faded Sharpy ink along the side of the rounded lipstick bottle. she often wondered why she kept the toilet bowl diet even after the many months she put between Jack and herself. After prepaying seven dollars on pump ten, she decided to grab a Snickers bar so her thin body could start to fill out her dark green van. She only had the van because she originally expected to have a few little ones with Jack. Now she only expects the silent company of the two empty McDonald cups that lay dry on the floor. The fuel gauge only read one-quarter full even after the seven dollars of gas. The words "next pay-check" kept running over and over in her mind. She doesn't notice the quiet sound of the Snickers rapper joining the two cups as she focused on starting the van. Her brown eyes notice a neon orange dash on her right side mirror. It's a young male gas clerk speed walking to help a freshly cleaned red car. Odd how it looks so much like Jack's old car. A sharp breath takes jabs her lungs as the familiar brown hair and polo tee shirt crawl out of the red car. No second glances, her foot forces her forward, her arms force a hairpin right turn, and her now strong intentions force Jack into his car. A second sharp breath takes her foot off the gas petal and a third has her see the ten yards she forced the red car to move. Cold, clammy hands reverse the dented green van away from the shattered glass and crushed red metal. Other then the van, the only movement at the gas station is the neon orange body, pinned underneath the smashed red car. He only wanted to tell the red car owner that he forgot his gas cap on top of the car. A bystander was never meant to be hurt; however, no one was planned to be hurt that day. Now, well, now there are two bodies and a gas cap.

Fantasizing

Today I fantasized about seizing opportunities. I envisioned myself being approached by a suit-and-glasses man whom admired my humor and work ethic. He smiled and offered me a part-time job at a Safeway gas station in Seattle in addition to paying for college for me as long as I maintained grades and a progressive work ethic. A well-hidden-by-humble-modesty smile crawled up my face and I whole-heatedly agreed as long as I could check the paperwork on the transfer. This would be an opportunity that I would not miss if the chance arose. I fantasize a lot. I don't like that what I imagine stays as only that -- a picture of joy and heroism but never a model of Saint Mary or Alexander. I have decided to resolve the conflict between my id and my ego. I am going to research what I need to do to make that and all my fantasy a reality. Safeway main website should might help me. Perhaps another store would want to fund my college goings. this would all take time but perhaps I could grab this dragon by the tail. Or play more video games. For now let a smile fall on my face -- feel refreshed with new hope.

blog on blogs

     Blogs are a diverse source of output – a blog may be known to the world or, as so many are, unknown to the billions of internet patrons. This idea-isolation is the same as a diary. Both are hidden. Both are read. Both are secret. Both are ways that can lead to fame. And both are ways that can lead to infamy. It is by these ideas that so many have come to tell about their inter-personal life to a potentially massive audience. The chance of fame is entitled to starting many blogs but perhaps a need for an outlet drives people to publish their personal thoughts online. In the past, paper bound diaries have held these ideas, cornering themselves into the nightstand drawer. Likewise, as the analogy expands, the common writers of the world have put their confidential ideas into a new drawer only this one can hold trillions of other diaries. Humanity has been able to find the darkened corners of the algorithmic space of the online to hide their intimate secrets. A place where, like the nightstand, any small child will be able to read about that one guy who was wearing like you know, that cute navy blue cardigan and stuff and like was so staring at you and stuff. Yes, humans have sure come far from the old days. As it has been sung “the times they are a changin.”

Pie-sized review on Dante's Inferno

Today I was surprised to learn that the great Dante, nomad of the super natural realms, wept upon the sight of the hell-constricted sorcerers with their heads turned backwards for eternity. The surprise did not come from the grizzly figure nor the tears streaming down the sorcerers back and butt. My surprise came from the lack of scythes that the creature had. You see, I have played the video game Dante's Inferno prior to reading that which the game is loosely based on and, to my homework-time's dismay, they are close to nothing alike. The only similarity is the levels of hell that both protagonists must travel. The enemies encountered share the same names but my minds-eye and the hi-def graphics hardly agree. But I digress. Dante's reaction to the sight of those imprisoned by their own actions is a compassionate movement in his comedy -- a heartfelt reaction to the cruel underbelly of the pious God. Dante the compassionate later becomes Dante the kick-a-damned-soul-in-the-face-if-it-gets-in-the-way. In this way God scores one point for the teaching of being pious. Fortunately for God, the slice-a-damned-soul-in-the-face-if-it-gets-in-the-way video game got a first week sale of 3.5 million units. Take that sympathy.