5 Minute Short Story: Lost Man and a Fish

He got lost.

And oh boy was he LOST. Just looking around the area, there was no way he wasn’t completely and astoudingly bereft of direction.

He stood at the corner of a street full of colourful clown, each with a bright red nose, multicoloured hair, and many multitudes of horns, prank flowers, and bowling pins being thrown around like money in a mall. The buildings were charming, small and brick with little windows and vitrines choc full of the latest goodies.

He had one thought though, and that it was he was lost. Where did the clowns come from? Who knows, they probably belong there; but that was the difference. He didn’t.

All of a sudden, a large fish flips its way over to him, and asks him if he can spare some change. Well, not to a fish no! He didn’t have any sand dollars. The fish took this news bitterly, however. The fish splashed angrily, but it had no effect.

He then woke up. What a strange dream, he thought, I could have sworn I was going to punch a fish.

The man, now aware that he was in bed, then promptly passed out once more.

Top Ten Reasons Why Moving In After Frat Boyz Sucks


Just today (at the time of this writing, which is May 1st/2nd) we moved out of our old house, my friends and I. Our house, A.K.A the Castle, was a great place: but due to whatever reasons we decided to, we moved out into this new place.

This place was nearby, and was well known as an establishment for rockin’ keggers, the kind people actually paid money to get into. It was that house in the neighbourhood, and still we moved in.

Every experience is a learning experience. I learned that moving into a house like that was a $&$#ing terrible ordeal, and that, in short, sucked.

1. Moving sucks. Period. It could be for any number of reasons, like the fact you’re leaving your home behind, good memories, you’re being forced to by the mob, it’s being done at gunpoint, but basically because MOVING REALLY SUCKS.

If you’re moving at all, I hope you have a damn good reason.

2. They don’t know what a mouse is. Or how to find and get rid of one, for that matter. I’d like to say that the cupboards were spotless when we found them, but what really happened was the horrible smell of bleached mouse crap. It was inspiring… it really motivated me to kill it with fire.

3. There was a ceiling? Really? Cause I had no idea before I decided the music was so awesome I’d punch the ceiling. Now I’ve left my mark on something! I can die happy.

And he might.

4. And that reminds me there’s a wall… Cause I had forgotten that the walls aren’t made of Unobtanium and as a result might chip and break if I punch it with my fist.

Oh well, I think it adds character, don’t you?

5. Tape is for &$##*(@, You don’t use tape in a manly house to put up posters and such, no. Also, you can’t just use the built in closet, ’cause that’s for sissies. You want posters? NAILS IN THE PLASTER. You want a shelving unit? UP ON THE WALL, USE A BOLT GUN.

Oh, thanks frat guy. It looks awesome. My room could be a ^$#*ing CHAPEL because it’s so HOLY. I was thinking of installing some holes anyway. I’m glad you made up my mind. It spells class. In moderately sized holes.

6. I’m too lazy to take off my shoes. So, instead of taking them off and keeping the hardwood floor safe to walk on in socks, you’re going to stamp the dirt so hard into the floor that the wood goes from cedar to ebony eh? It matches the curtains you left me. Thanks. Oh, and now the tiles in the kitchen don’t slip? That’s good, I’ll be sure to walk around bare foot on the dust encrusted tiles so I don’t slip and break my neck.

Besides, I’d rather have foot fungus anyway.

7. Loving the long showers. And it’s kinda obvious. The grout at the base of the shower is gone. Arrividerci, great grout, sayonara. Au revoir. You’re now gonzo, bereft of existence you now litter my bathroom floor. If you didn’t provide an entrance hazard for rodents you’d be useless to everybody. The grout has now joined the garbage disposal, a malignant memory on a forgotten parquet. The grout is no more.

However, your hair is quite spiky. I approve.

8. Everything is a sticker surface, and double sided tape is a statement. I gotta admit, even I was impressed when I found a picture of Jesus made out of errand strands of double sided tape littering the inside of my new closet space, interspersed with irremovable tears of stickers. I called up the Pope to check it was a miracle!

I got an answer. Turns out it’s just an idiot who decided to sticker up the house with YOUNG AND RECKLESS. It’s a badass older version of YOLO right? Right?

What’s that smell? Oh, it’s angst stickers.

9. We decided we wanted a petting zoo. So we bred dust bunnies in such large quantities that it required not one, but two professional cleaning crews to actually round them up once we left. It was like hunting for diabolic and disgusting easter eggs.

They were big enough to kill a grown man. I named one Caernabog. It had sharp, pointy teeth, and required that we use our last remaining holy hand grenade.

10. I heard you like booze. So we boozed up your floor, we boozed up your wall, hell! We boozed up your ceiling. We knew that, upon entering the house, you would love to mop the floor AND the walls too! Also, I hope you don’t mind that we used the wine to make it look someone had been brutally murdered on the spot.

5 Minute Analysis: Dawn of War is NOT League of Legends

As a small forward, a pal of mine was watching me play Dawn of War: Black Crusade. Oh, the fun I’ve been having playing that game again! It’s loads of good fun. In any case, he looked over my shoulder and proclaimed that “This reminds me of league of legends.”
Well, that simply wouldn’t do.

1. League of Legends (Hereby referred to as LoL) is a MOBA. You control just 1 unit most of the time, and it’s called a hero/champion/macguffit. Dawn of War (Hereby referred to as DoW), you control armies. Many people. HANDLE THEM.

2. LoL is pretty cartoony, charmingly so. You won’t see many torn bodies or genereal mishandling of corpses in a desacratory way. DoW, you are expected, nay, gleefully appreciative of the fact that your many units (HANDLE THEM) are tearing up many others. Grrrrrrrrrrrross! and great, but G(L)ORY.

3. LoL, you cant move the camera save to zoom in. DoW? Oh, that’s an impressive looking army. Let’s take a look at them from ground level.

… Why, yes! It is an impressive looking- *eviscerated*

4. LoL is full of armies, but of only 3-4 kinds of units tops. DoW, you have access to an entire plethora of… okay, there’s a giant spider, many guns, chainswords, and mutant horrors. and that’s a 3rd of the units I can have.

5. MOBA. RTS. Although MOBA comes right out of an RTS, that’s still the big one.

6. Did I mention LoL is a MOBA and not an RTS?

7. LoL takes 30-45 minutes to play on average. DoW takes 10-15. Booya time savings!

8. In one, I play as yordles (dafuq folks) and in the other, I get to play as 8 foot tall warmonsters with a penchant for TEARING YOUR HEART OUT WITH A SPOON. GG yordles.

Next time, I’m going to rip off a famous show and steal their shtick with BACON STRIPS.

5 Minute Short Story: The Man Obsessed With His Housecoat

There it was: a housecoat. He had wanted one for such a long time now!

The elegance of the plaid pattern blew his eyes away. The red crisscrossed pattern clashed with his green smiley faced pajamas, but it mattered not. It was a housecoat, and it was his. He was now king of his house. His  castle now had a ruler with ROBES. How badass was that?

The man reflected for a moment. Very, was his answer. Very badass.

Look at me, he said as he relfected uppon his viasage in the mirror, look at the handsome and devilishly good looking man in the housecoat. It flowed on the non-existent breeze, flapping away in his imagination. His grin grew a mile wide, and he knew what must be done.

He left his boudoir and alerted his subjects to his precence.

“Ladies and gentlemen, nobles and peasants, look at me! Upon my back I wear a MIGHTY ROBE OF AWESOME. It is mine, and mine alone! Now, do my bidding!”

The group of three grown men looked at him, bewildered and exhausted.

“It’s a housecoat. Seriously. you’ve been wearing it for like, a month. It’s time you took it off.”

The man refuised. He cried mutiny! at the top of his lungs, ran forward, and jumped through the window, glass shards badassedly flying all around. He then landed headfirst into the pavement.

Ow, he thought. What am I doing outisde? Why am I coverd in glass?

He look down. Oh right, he remembered, I’m a badass with a badass housecoat. Look at me &$^#, I’m fabulous.

Where am I? Why am I here?

I had another “lesson” moment, though just a thoughtful one this time.

I was just at my very good friend’s place to celebrate his excellent debut in his show, and there was an unexpected (to me, anyway) visitor: a really cute girl that seemed to have an affinity with my buddy. I would be a terrible friend if I didn’t give him the look.

Down to the muscle twitch.

In any case, we watched REPO! the genetic opera. A movie so full of angst that I could mould it into small, adorable, angst filled mini demons. It was adorable. And full of blood, gore, black, and VERY pale people.

Paleness aside, the experience was funny: it had been awhile where I made myself feel like a third wheel. I felt very…analytic. Outside of everything, observing. It’s an interesting mindset, as it leaves me feeling apart from the world, and yet incredibly attached.

I said my goodbyes to everyone, and made my way into the alleyway between our houses. The chill air blew through my hair as the ground underneath my feet crunched as only a dirt gravel path can. It’s at this point that I put in my earphones, and being to listen to this song, which is an excellent remake of this one.

Seriously, that remix is fantastic.

In any case, it’s at this point that I’m compelled to look up at the sky.

The black, inky sky holds an imaginable depth, impossible for me to fathom; yet still, in the darkness of the sky, there are shinning stars, twinkling. Not many, but a few, and occasionally they would get covered up as passing clouds drifted by on a gust of cool wind.

It’s precisely at this moment that I hear the cool voice of Leonardo DiCaprio say the following:

“Think about it Ariadne. How did you get here? Where are you right now?”

I think I'm too close to the creepiest man on Earth is what.

Obviously, I’m not as hot as Ellen Page, but the idea struck home. As the words, sounds and the world slipped away around me, all I could see or think of was the sky, space, the universe, the places I’ll never see and never go to.

And yet, here I was. Here. Not anywhere else, but here. Where exactly is “here”? And how did I get “here”?

I pondered those questions for well over 10 minutes I stood in a dirt gravel alleyway. I was on Earth, of that I was certain; but where was that in the grand scheme of things? Where was this place I called home? Even if I could answer that question, the first one was even more perplexing despite its simplicity. How did I get here?

So I ask you those questions: where are you? How did you get here?

Relationships: Things Happen vs For the Best

Like this post hitting your stupid face, for instance.

I am not of the opinion that “things happen for a reason” such that there is a master plan for everything, another way of saying “____ works in mysterious ways”. Whether it’s a bird shitting on you or a car accident, it still implies that cancer “happens” for a reason other than “because if cancer was a person, it’d be a %$^&ing asshole, and a serial killer”. It’s a frustrating thing to hear people say, and every time someone says it I punt a puppy.

Why? “Things happen!”

However, things happening for the best? That’s different. The implication being that the social outcome of a problem sticky in nature can work out for the overall good of people involved. This is something that happens frequently, but especially in relationships.

I can’t count how many times I’ve heard of or seen a relationship explode and it has been for the better afterwards. Every single broken relationship I can think of has benefitted from this thought, and overall makes for happier people at the end of an unhappy chapter. That mode of thought allows for catharsis, rather than a need for retribution or revenge.

For instance, two of my friends just got out of a relationship with one another. Although the specifics are hugely juicy and super interesting, I won’t go into them in detail; suffice to say, it had been almost a year before they broke up that the relationship started suffering from lethal lack of communication.

Sometimes, there's nothing you can do. And then sometimes, there's a pair of scissors...

In the end, neither party was fully happy in the relationship: one person scared the other one anytime an issue showed itself, which cause both parties to hide things from one another and essentially not communicate (arguably the blood of a relationship).

Right now, things are ugly. Some friends are taking sides, others are condemning and complaining (and we all know that any fool can condemn and complain… and most do), and everyone’s acting like the break up was a bad thing. HORRIBLE. NOTHING COULD BE WORSE, X TREATED Y LIKE CRAP, Y WAS A MONGER ‘, BLAH BLAH ASS-TAINTING CHAFE FUCKS WE’RE GONNA DIE IF WE DON’T RAISE HELL.

Very, very stupid.

Why? Why on Earth are we getting worked up about a good thing?

The end of a relationship like this is much like a forest fire to a dying grove. The trees are gnarled, old, and rotting. Immediately after being burned, the area smells like ash and ass. Give it time, and the place grows back better than ever before!

My point is this: you have to look at a bigger picture, and look at all the consequences. Right now it’s ugly, true. Living situations are messed, feelings are bruised, and friendships are kind being torn; but that’s all people look at these days! Short term shit. Long term? Both people will be in happier relationships, and people will have completely forgotten about this situation. Life goes on.

Also, this avoids a lot of the drama, which is something that makes this puppy punter politely pat a puppy instead.

And this makes for happier puppies. Healthier ones too!

Now to bed. I’m so tired. Of everything. Shit included.

Scary Lessons

Over the past couple of days, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on the topic of theology. Specifically on Naturalism, the idea that the core fundamentals of the universe and the world are discovered and that there are natural laws that govern us, as dictated by a God of some kind; and the antithesis, with positivism, where we are free beings, not governed by a God but by ourselves, as humans. A lot of this enquiry has only strengthened my resolve in my atheism.

However, I also believe that, if you take the time to look around you life, and smell the roses from time to time, a lesson shows itself to you, hidden but still there to the eagle eye of someone who takes simple things waaaaay too seriously.

There's no WAY that EVERY WORD meant that much! - Most grade 9 students

Arguably, the biggest question that people have is “Why are we here, and how did we get here?” You know, the question to life, the universe, and everything. My friend believes he found the answer in Christianity. He believes in God now, and has his idea on how everything works. In complete contrast, I ended up as an atheist. Whereas he felt a connection to the world and called it God, I saw a lack of connection on any such level, and called it life. We’ve been debating over the specifics of his ideals now for a week, going to all sorts of different paths of reason, belief, and crazy ideas for me to come to the conclusion that I still feel absolutely no connection to an all encompassing being. As for him, I don’t have the right to say, as Ted is his own guy and is kind of impossible to read on these matters.

But ever since I discovered this lack of connection, there’s been a lurking feeling in the back of my mind. Indiscernible, hard to correlate… but it was there. Since I am an atheist, and since there is (for me) no God, then there is no set road for me, no fate, no destiny. I am truly and completely free to do anything I please.

Interestingly enough though, that was not the idea in its entirety: it was satisfactory, but there was still another lesson to be learned. Was it that I now had more responsibility? That’s a given. Redemption and forgiveness were now dictated by other people and myself, and not an omniscient thing? Well, duh. The fact that without a God, I now had more personal power? That’s cool. I like that.

And then tonight happened.

I went to go visit Kitteh for awhile tonight. It’s a ridiculously hot March evening, and I’m wearing shorts and a t-shirt. I’ve just eaten dinner with my Mom, and I was really content. Kitteh and I talked about Mad Men (she loves it), skirts, mail, work, involuntary voluntary work (or “training” as it’s called) and all kinds of things. But eventually, it was time for me to go. I helped her with her laundry, kissed her goodnight, and started to head home when all of a sudden, I stopped.

In front of me was a back-alley dirt-way. The path stretched out in front of me, long and dark in areas while light in others. The pebbles and gravel of the path lent a rough, callous quality to the path, its bumpy texture evident in the strips of light from the parallel residence building. Overhanging branches from nearby trees cast long, spindly shadows over the path while the poles and pillars and supported wires cast their suitably thicker, dark umbrae over the path. Tire tracks from muddier days drew gouges in the pathway, crisscrossing and intersecting with footprints to show a road travelled by many, remembered by few.

And I thought to myself, my, what a simple way to represent my life; simple at its outset, yet a closer look reveals a bumpy road that winds a little. Light represented the good times, only bright because the shadows could provide the contrast needed to make the good times great. Gouges and sticks showed that things can change my life irrevocably, and will leave me scarred. As easy as it was to imagine that this path was my life, I realized something a little terrifying.

At the end of the path, there were no more lights. The adjacent building blocked the lights from any nearby rooms. Meanwhile, trees clawed across the gap, blocking my vision of the end of the path.

It’s at this point I figured out what a terrifying choice I’ve made, for I knew that, unlike what Ted thought, there was nothing at the end of this path.

At the end of the path, I was going to be alone in the dark.

I have to remember my earlier lessons though: it might be dark, but that’s if I leave it like that. I have the responsibility and power to change that. I have Kitteh. I have goals, and I have dreams.

I’ll light my own way, and people will be there to help me.

I refuse to be alone in the dark.

What am I doing?!

I have NO idea what I'm doing. Where's this space come from?

I have no idea what I want to write.

This is my second time writing that sentence tonight. It’s only showing up once because the first time I did that, I followed it up with a bunch of gobeldy gook that unfortunately resulted in my closing the internet and wiping my gobeldy gook.

The gook looked like this:

Qlskc aldic q;ekjcv w n erhois nfoiq dnf cmiqpwejf apsdochnqpwoeuzlkzlsp qpwo lkf qpoiusdpnbgpouqh dpo lupo uhapsod fqpowud fpaso qrjodhuf qpwoe rqpo wiuerhp as fpoqwopieruypslk,nvpqouh qp woiur hpoq whrfpq ofpo qwf q f pqowuhr poqhwpo fpq hwf 9qw 9f98 hqwpohf poq8whf qw8f hq f qpwf qwf pqw f8qw hfpo8qhwpfo8h psohdfpokjch  pqouhcolkjhlvmnlxzkjnv olijnsdlkqhpeourqh dkjvn lzkxihu pq l.

And that was supposed to represent my thoughts.

They still do, as a matter of fact. And I’ve typed an re-typed the next section at least 3 times with the aim of trying to create something to help my thought align themselves to something useful.

... precisely.

Totally hasn’t happened though. Which is puzzling, as normally when I tell my thoughts to do something, they do it. Or they get the soap. And by soap, I mean I totally mind crush them.

And I suppose that’s a pretty apt way to explain how life is at the moment, actually: it seems like although I do things, things aren’t apt to fall into place unless I glare at a problem with great disdain and displeasure. It’s a glare so sour that most things pickle on the spot; but nooo, life seems to find a way to go “uhh, how bout no?” and continues to do its thing regardless of what I want.

Upside, things that I do want are increasingly awesome! For instance, my girlfriend Kitteh and I made our anniversary, and neither of us have died due to bodily harm and/or mental onslaught! It’s pretty fantastic.

Speaking of fantastic, I’ve been doing well in school too, for the most part. And my HoNage continues to get better, and remains a way to feed my insatiable ego and remind me that I am still fabulous and fantastic.

I don’t know why I feel at a loss of control of things; it probably has a lot to do with the preoccupation I have with my lack of money and independence, although maybe a crippling feeling of “WHERE/WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOOOOOOING?!” has a hand in this.


WTF Saturday Night

A Quiet Start
A Saturday night, a long time ago in a city that is, at the moment, a few hours away, I was alone. Which, really, wasn’t so bad. I was kinda prepared for a slow night of gaming, reading, maybe some food and then bed. As I begin to meander to my room, I get a text. Expertly twirling my phone from my pocket, the text read “Hey can I come over? Is there anything going on?”

It’s from Kitteh! Well, I’m totally cool with her coming over, so I wrote back “Yeah, sure. Nothing’s going on though.” Didn’t matter to her, she came over anyway, and brought some drinks with her. And who am I to refuse drinking with a pretty woman?

So we’re having some drinks when the idea of watching a movie comes up. Considering that the rest of my housemates are gone, it means we can watch anything without bugging anyone. Not that anything would bug anyone, but it does mean we had free reign of my buddy’s X-Box to watch movies.

So far, seems like a quiet, fun night for just me and m’lady. That’s something I’m cool with.

While we’re in the middle of watching Kill Bill, the rest of my housemates come back home with a couple of other friends. Not that I was expecting them, but I wasn’t sure when. So the atmosphere of the room went from laughing at the copious amounts of hyper high pressure blood to barely being able to hear the T.V at all. Noise everywhere! When everyone got settled though, we all started laughing at the ridiculousness that is Kill Bill and Kill Bill 2.

Pretty much this.

After 4 hours of watching movies though, people get hungry. And what a better way to be less hungry with a group of people than to go the nearest McDonalds? Just as soon as we have some home made Jalapeno Poppers.

McD’s, or that run in with Brigit
As we hop into the van to get to McD’s, we realize there’s not quite enough seating for everyone. So I volunteer to stand where there isn’t a seat. I felt pretty badass.

The McD’s is only about 3 minutes away by car, so it didn’t take long to get there. Much like Russian clowns exiting a clown car, we piled out of the van and got inside the McD’s.  It’s one of those newly renovated ones, with the McCafe and the many attempts to make the fast food joint look like a fancy upscale restaurant. Which is hilarious considering that I go there to eat the complete opposite kind of food.

As we get inside, we line up. It’s not a super long line, but it takes awhile to get through the people in front of us. As we get closer and closer to getting to order, a brand new group of people gets in line behind us. What kind of people? Well, it’s 2-3am on a Saturday night: drunk, loud, and dressed to… impress other students. In any case, there were at least 3 girls and 2 guys or so.

I was standing next to my housemate Steve. He quickly gets initiated, against his will, into a conversation with one of the girls. We quickly found out her name was Brigit, that she was “Soooooooooo drunk, lol!” and that she wasn’t kidding. At this point, Kitteh was finished ordering and she was waiting on the other side of a throng of people waiting to get food. I looked at her, smiled, and then froze as something began tickling my ear.

I’m a lot like a dog. If someone I’m comfortable with (Read: Kitteh) scratches my chin, or my ears, I really enjoy it. In this particular case, I was not comfortable with this. I couldn’t really turn around, and being not comfortable turned very quickly into being really, really awkward. From what I could hear behind me, and from Steve laughing next to me, it was Brigit who was scratching my ear with a $20 bill.

If I thought this was awkward, I hadn’t seen Kitteh’s face yet. I looked to my left, and I’ve never seen her so angry in my life. I mean, it wasn’t the kind of angry girls usually do when they just ignore the shit out of you either. It was the kind that definitely meant she wanted to kick some ass.

And so joyously!

It’s at this point that Brigit saw her face too. She immediately went from laughing her ass off to realizing “oh shit.” Now I know how scary Kitteh can look when she’s angry, but Brigit just booked to the other side of the line, and didn’t come back to bug people for a good 2-3 minutes. When she did though, she proceeded to poke the guy in front of me with the same $20 bill. When he turned around, Steve immediately looked at me.

“Phiiiiiil. Why would you do that?”

Well shit. It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it! Seriously! See the outrageously drunk woman behind me? She did it! And then he framed me for it!

Yeah, he didn’t believe me.

After ordering some McMini’s, I reunited with Kitteh. We started talking about Brigit and what the living ^%$# happened when all of a sudden Brigit started shouting.

“Like, oh my gaaaaawd! How did you know my naaame?! You’re psychic! You can read my mind! Ohhhhh miiiiiii gaaaaaawd! Why would you doooo thaaaat?!”

Steve is laughing his ass off, as is most of the rest of the line. Brigit is freakin’ out. Kitteh and I are just standing there, food in hand. What the heck just happened?

It’s at this point that Kitteh makes he way to the Ketchup for her fries, and that Steve makes his way over. Turns out that Brigit bet him he couldn’t guess her name.  Which she told us not 5 minutes ago. The rest from there was history.

We grouped back up and made our way back to the van, which took about 5 minutes to get everyone else’s orders. Once we got rolling, we saw Brigit and her friends trying to jay walk the street. What a perfect opportunity.

We screamed past them, honking the horn as much as possible. I’ve never seen women run in heels so fast in my life.

That was the last we saw of Brigit.

Headed Home
At this point, we headed back home (A.K.A, the Castle. That’s a short story for another time) and piled out of the van. At this point, Kitteh remembers she forgot her drink at the McDonalds, curses and swears, and then proceeds to describe exactly how mad she was at Brigit and it was being that angry that caused her to forget her drink. At this point, we were inside the house, and Ryan, my other housemate, decided to start trolling.

“How mad would you get if I started scratching Phil’s ear?”

“I’d hit you.” Simple enough answer. It’s at this point that Ryan started scratching my ear.

So as I was just standing there, Ryan scratched my ear. As he scratched my ear, Kitteh then proceeded to smack him silly, which evolved into a pillow war.

After about 45 minutes of provoking Kitteh’s wrath, I needed to walk her home. We ate our food, put on our coats, and left for her place. We talked about Brigit, the lost drink, the car drifting closer to our sidewalk, the dodgeball that had been launched from the passenger side window.

Wait, what?

As the ball flew uselessly beside us, we saw a campus police car start following the drive-by-dodgeballers. Kitteh and I btoh just looked at each other, shrugged, and contemplated how that car looked a lot like Ryan’s car, and that we’d keep the dodgeball as a trophy of our passive ninja-dodge skills.

Once I had walked Kitteh to her room, I got back home only to find the rest of my housemates laughing their asses off. Why? because Kitteh was right: they were the ones who threw the dodgeball at us.

Exhausted and exasperated, I went to bed. Quiet nights at the Castle just don’t exist.