Happy Birthday 09/27/2010
 
I was told this story recently, and I felt a really strong urge to write it down.  Moreover to write it in 100 words or less.
      One time we got lost on the way to the cemetery, and unsystematically drove down random streets blasting the cool-looking CD we’d just found at a thrift shop. We hadn’t known it was a Christmas CD, but quickly found out when ‘deck the halls’ came blazing out of our speakers as if played by the prodigy progeny of Jimmy Hendrix and Mrs. Claus. The cacophony of voices mixed with carols spilled out our rolled-down windows and sleighed the melancholy cemetery with merriment.

Happy seventh birthday Mary. You may have left the world, but you’re still a part of our family.

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This Sunday! [Sunday!] (SUNDAY!) In the DEATH CAGE AREA. Forget the ring. ForGET the octagon! Forget cage matches with the razor wire along the top, cause these wrestlers are taking it to the next level in the only round ring in the federation. THIS IS WRESTLE MANIA 3,000!!

Here comes Jonathan the Bouncinator stepping into the ring. Tonight’s battle is going to be a four-way fight to the death--

…And if we say ‘time out’, you have to stop.

Yeah, I know. A four-way fight to the death where time-outs are okay if it’s an emergency!

Cause remember last week when Cameron--

Cameron the Head-butter, stepping into the ring!

—Yeah, when Cameron the Head-butter used his signature butt-to-face move and knocked out your loose tooth and you called ‘time-out’?!

Yeah Andy I remember. Wait, Cam don’t introduce yourself, that’s the announcer’s job. In the only cage match--

This is only a net. I wish we had a REAL cage.

Yeah what is this? Wrestle Mania for fish?
 
Guys stop it. You’re ruining the announcer’s speech!

SHOVE

How come you get to be the announcer?

What did you get from the tooth fairy?

GRAPPLE

Cause it’s my trampoline. Five bucks.

PUSH

SO?

NO WAY!

TRIP

The tooth fairy isn’t real.

YUH HUH!  Oh those are fighting words, and it looks like the Bouncenator is lining up for a… wait hang on… lining up for a… dude stop, I can’t rocket-bounce you if you keep moving around.

No Duh! Rich the Tripper doesn’t let himself get caught in a rocket-bounce!

The Tripper? I thought you were The Leg Jam.

I was, but then you kept calling me ‘Toe Jam’.

That wasn’t me, that was THE BOUNCINATOR!

HA HA! That’s right! And right now Toe Jam looks like he’s about to get a… FACE JAM!!

CRACK

OW! GET OFF!

PUNCH

Oh no, now the Head-butter is coming in for the coup d’état.

Woah, what’s that? It sounds painful!

It’s the secret move the Head-butter learn while he was away training in China! You bet it’s painful!

Oh is this the one your cousin taught you?

CRUNCH

OW! NO JUMP MOVES! AHHHHHHH! MOOOOOOM!

I didn’t MEAN to; the trampoline is slippery! I SLIPPED!

Slipped like THIS? OOH, that looked like it hurt!

TRIP

OW! Dude, its time-out!

PUSH

NO! No one CALLED it!

GRAPPLE

The Bouncenator’s Mom called it.

SHOVE

I didn’t hear--

BOOOOOOYS! It’s freezing and raining out here!

We’re not cold!

Come inside please!

Come ON mom!

I don’t want your parents getting angry with me when you all catch pneumonia! COME INSIDE!

…

…

…

okay

Dude, my mom could take your mom in Wrestle Mania 2000.

Ooh, look who’s talking tough now that we’ve left the ring. We’ll settle this next time Toe Jam!

I’m The Tripper now.

BOYS, wait, you’re soaked; you’re getting water everywhere!

Hey let’s make a fort!

Nah, let’s play hide-and-go-seek NINJA STYLE! WHAAAAA!

CHOP!
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    The Desert of 400 Years — The Astronomer and The Eye of the Goddess
                 By
      Tyler McNamara

      Betwixt Goggle’s Gnomish Gnautical Instruments --a full-sized shop topped with a custom built half-height apartment— and The WHIZZ-Bang! an alchemist’s supply shop, lies an alley a human-and-a-half wide, but thanks to clever carpentry, it appears much smaller from the street. Littered with abnormally sparkly sand, the alley weaves it way west until it meets the wall of the City of Crescent Moon. With the permission of the city guard, who were easy enough to persuade by lining their pockets with silver coins, Budail the astronomer was allowed to build his observatory high up on the wall, which itself sits high atop cliffs that drop hundreds of feet to have their roots caressed by calm currents of Crescent Bay. From this height, the view from Budail’s tower is only blocked by the temple of Saskanaa—even an agnostic knows that to challenge the height of Her building is to challenge the Goddess Herself. And though his fear of Saskanaa was abjured by his adoration for Her, his fear of Her followers was quite apparent.

      As the sun kissed the horizon, shafts of orange light reflected off a series of mirrors, one of which was diverted to a convex lens that was focused on the wick of an oil lamp, another was focused on the tip of a bakhoor cone, which as it burned, filled the room with a pungent scent of sweat secreted somewhere between hard labor and love making; a third shaft of light shone onto Budail’s sleeping form. At first, the light was a mild annoyance, but as the sun set it intensified. And as the smell of the bakhoor found his nostrils, Budail awoke. Shielding his eyes with his outstretched palm, he tossed aside his sheets, rose, stretched, and hurried to bid farewell to last rays of the sun.

      Wrapping himself in his blue shjetbaras, the traditional unstitched cloth robe that Saskanaa’s clerics wear, he expertly ties the complicated wrap, securing it to his body. He carefully lifts the oil lamp, lit by the light of the sun, and carries it upstairs to the telescope room. Setting the lamp on a desk covered with scrolls and star maps, he pries open a hidden drawer, and takes out a small circular device that Budail guesses to be over 400 years. Originally made from tin, it is now slightly corroded, and weighs almost nothing. He has always wondered why such an important device was not made from a more important metal. Perhaps its designer was is a situation much akin to his, and could not afford to have the device crafted by anyone other than himself, not because of its price in gold, but because of its possible affect on his life. Not two weeks ago, Auttamika, Budail’s best friend, confidant, and some would say coconspirator was arrested for heresy, and locked away in the Jackal’s Pit, a prison deep beneath the capital city, Saalhamesh.

      No larger than the base of a candle stick holder, the Sas’Ilâ, or, eye of the goddess has four rotating discs. When directed toward the northstar, the sas’ilâ can be set to show the exact time. A second disc can be rotated to simulate the star pattern change that occurs as the super planet, Nijhäl bends light around it. Simply adjusting these two dials allows anyone intelligent enough to memorize star roads access to any point in the desert. This technique of stellar navigation was developed thousands of years ago, and is critical in this land of dust and sand, where the landmarks shift with the tides of sands, and terrain features can change overday. The question that eats at the front of Budail’s mind night after night is: what are the other two discs for? Rotating either of them alters the constellations in a way that he has never before heard of, or observed.

      Auttamika suspected that 400 years ago, this device was used to measure two windows in the sky; holes in the sphere of constellations that allowed beings to traverse between worlds. This multiple world theory had almost cost Budail his life once before and ultimately led to him leaving the temple of Saskanaa. Though his brothers and sisters at the temple disapproved of his unbalanced interested in the goddesses’ nocturnal aspect known as Sashasheem, they had never threatened to excommunicate him before. But once he mentioned an interested in worlds beyond the reach of Saskanaa, he found himself face to face with the grand inquisitor. By confiding that the idea has been spoken through a temporary possession, as if some imp had borrowed his tongue to cause mischief, he, thankfully, was able to convince the inquisitor to let him live.

      Now, night after night as the stars swirled around his humble observatory, Budail’s telescope was trained to the east, watching and waiting for a window to another world to crest the horizon. And night after night he wondered if it ever would, and if it did what he would do next. He was sure that he would not be content to simply watch it rise, and he was sure that it was very, very far away. He was sure that he could not make the dangerous journey alone, and he was sure that if it was the will of Saskanaa, the clear road and his traveling companions would be laid out before him like a banquet.
4 Comments
 
 
All for the Love of the Umbrella Shuffle
by
Tyler McNamara

All for the love of the umbrella shuffle; the awkward dance outside the doors of stores on dreary days. Equipped with ripped slacks and soaked sneakers, my chart of chores saved for a rainy day like a box cult classics, and the umbrella of the week. Today I wield a wooden handled, brown nylon, Brown & Sons.

By carrying our own shelter we add tangibility to our comfort zones, making it not only odd but inconvenient to occupy the same sidewalk square, lest our umbrellas bother and spill water upon each other. It also allows a window into a world where we walk one-handed like captain hook, one hand holds a crook and is tasked with the purpose of keeping us dry. 

The persistent practice of step, sheathe, and shake has allowed me to make the transition through storefront thresholds smooth and timely.

But he real magic begins when one person exits while another comes in; as one steps, sheathes, and shakes, the other must extend, upend, and defend. But there is always that moment in time and space where/when two umbrelli cannot occupy the same place.

I will not hide that I count my steps, or that I time my comings and goings in an effort to force consent and cause a transitional accident. For in that line between wet and dry, we are obligated to meet eye to eye. And though the damp door dance may precipitate an uncomfortable instant under awnings, in me at least it will alleviate something lost in the hustle and bustle; and that’s why I love the umbrella shuffle.

5 Comments
 
 
Thomas: the way to survive a zombie outbreak is to quickly find an offroad vehicle and fill it with supplies and weapons and a hand powered radio then take that vehicle into the wilderness in a hidden and defensible location and monitor the radio waves. Once your supplies run out you move from location to location collecting supplies.

me: Among the list of survival guides that I have read, the Zombie survival guide is on there. And it depends on the type of infection; if animals are able to catch the zombification, than the woods is the last place I want to be
Thomas: actually the real best way is to make it to some large ship and cast off shore.

Thomas: that's true however in almost all zombie infection scenarios the only animals that can potentially catch it are dogs and crows

me: rats

Thomas: I would say that for me the key would to be grab a bunch of food, a heavy object for bashing, and run to the water front to comandeer the first boat I find

me: I think than's only because it would ruin the mood for a parrot or some other dumb animal to be a zombie monkey

Thomas: yeah

Thomas: boat is the place to be

me: fuck right, cause zombies can't swim... but also remember that they can't drown

Thomas: that's true but really all you need to worry about is running out of supplies/landing

me: and if they happen to float, then you back in the same... boat

Thomas: zombies don't float because they don't breath. Newly dead zombies might float

me: but a fat person zombie would float.

Thomas: the other thing is that they would never figure out how to get to you you just need to be 20 feet at sea and they'd be flailing around trying to get to you but unable to even dog paddle.

me: man... just think of the zombie sharks that would catch it from eating zombie people.

Thomas: yeah that's why it needs to be a big metal boat not some wooden hunk the next best location to a boat is in the middle of a desert in a bunker with multiple escape routes.

me: No no, I like your boat idea, and something like a aircraft carrier can be made to be totally sustainable with solar panels, and greenhouses and plenty of room for everybody.

Thomas: the problem is getting to an aircraft carier.

me: no, I think the problem is fueling an aircraft carrier.

Thomas: you could rig an aircraft carrier to move VERY VERY SLOWLY without fuel you just need a scientist which is a very important survival tool in a zombie infestation scenario.

me: or you could just be content with it being adrift.

Thomas: currents would eventually take you to shore.

me: yeah, you need the doctor, the scientist, and the guy whose blood cures the infestation and Mila Jolovitch.

Thomas: we're of course assuming evade and survive instead of start the resistance zombie survival but honestly screw humanity we brought this upon ourselves.

me: right, cause there's always that one guy that doesn't tell you he's been bitten fucking asshole!

Thomas: I hate that guy! The most important thing you need is the hand powered radio though everyone should honestly own one of those in event of black out, terrorist attack or zombie infestation.

me: esp if it's two-way cause broadcasting might be important which is another reason to have an aircraft carrier.

Thomas: yeah

me: GPS

Thomas: I think there's a battle ship docked here in Boston, the problem is if zombies attacked I'd totally want to go back to save my family but if I did that I'd screw my chances of survival.

me: yeah, the Day after tomorrow principal

me: But it should would be nice to have Bob the fighter on your team, and maybe you could grab Brian while you're down there

Thomas: yeah Brian would be a big grab he could build shit.

me: he'd be almost like your scientistplus ju jitsu

Thomas: I have no expert skills I am no nurse, I am no machinist

me: trade skills they'd be worth having.

Thomas: yeah man I could like balance the books for how many cans of beans we have left canned goods = the worst zombie survival foodthey are toooooo heavy. What you need is dry goods cereal, jerky, crackers dry beans.

me: Rabbits or goats You need to raise Rabbits on the battleship too You can't risk fishing for fear of catching zombie fish Fuck... zombie seagulls!

Thomas: yeah that's when you go below deck

me: Hey btw, this has been a hillarious conversation, do you mind if I post it on a blog? ...not that I have a blog

Thomas: no that's fine. man you really need a scientist cause he can tell you whether the strain is contagious to everyone also here's a question.

me: man, our luck we'd grab a geologist instead of a biologist or like... a vetrinarian instead of a doctor.

Thomas: if everything can catch it, do you have to worry about everything eating you, or do dogs have to worry about zombie dogs but humans are ok and like sylvester better watch out for zombie cats, but they won't eat me

me: zombies like brains. I'd said the flavor of brains doesn't change much between species therefore nothing is safe and even if it's not the flavor, but the essence... you have the same conclusion.

Thomas: so then really everything has to worry about zombies the other thing is some zombies just eat everything and those are the best because the ones who eat brains, they make more zombies the ones who eat everything, they just strip the thing and they're done, no new zombie.

me: no no, you have the backward when you shoot a zombie in the brain, it dies right? so if something has eaten the brain, no new zombie but, if somethnig had eaten everything but the head, it's still biting and pulling itself along with it's tongue

Thomas: so then brain eating zombies only spread contagion through accidental biting but not deaths.

me: right.

Thomas: I guess there's also the fact that a zombie can only eat so much so like if it eats a person then fills up it probably wanders around for a bit and finds a new person to eat.

me: I don't know if it's a hunger that can be sated.

Thomas Murphy: and that other body comes to life well then wouldn't they eat until they explode?

me: I mean, if a goldfish will eat until it bursts, than a well fed zombie would too right? Maybe full zombies are still mean, but aren't interested in brains maybe that's the distinction: Brain eating zombie = hungry zombie arm biting zombie = full zombie

Thomas: see I think it's like a fat guy with an unlimited food source he just eats over a long period of time but like moves on from thing to thing oh no I got it it's like if you got a bag of donuts a trash bag full of donuts you just bite one until you're satisfied, then a little later you look at it and you're like "but there's an unbitten donut in this trash bag: and you toss it for the living running donut.

me: ...that's it! man, I thought you were going to whip out the carrot analogy!

Thomas Murphy: nah that's too easy see we use the carrot analogy too loosely these days I went with the trash bag full of donuts route.

me: I hope that gets added to the repertoire.

The conversation quickly went south from there.

The following section is rated PG-13



Thomas : so we were in a bar the other day and they had a claw game and inside the claw game porn DVD's.

me: NO 1st: that's awesome! 2nd: there's no way to grab a DVD with a claw!

Thomas: my buddy won one I think it was Japanese cum guzzlers 4

me: SHUT UP!!! japanese cum guzzlers? That's what I asked my grandma for for Christmas!

Thomas: yeah they cover the naughty parts with blue tape except the name so as not to offend but I definately saw the namesake of that DVD on the box despite the tape.
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