Then she took off to the land of the Green Isles...

Tis true, tis true... She has left our borders, and headed to the land of the green isles in search of a new old man she might call Evan, a new Sheriff she might call Grayson, and a new Glum Chum she might call Glum Chum...

So long Heather...
Have a good trip... life... etc...

Little Baby Alien Raised By the Acorns

Title: Little Baby Alien Raised By The Acorns
Genre: Uh...General?
Rating: Fine for all...
Author Notes: I'm a strange man and I know this story isn't the best... I just wrote it for fun...

The little baby alien raised by the acorns leaned against the oak tree and stared above him into the black void broken up only by the few twinkling dots amidst the heavens. This tree had always been his favourite thinking spot. Every night of his life, as far as he could remember, the little alien would come to this tree and stare up at the sky. He found that no matter what length of time past, he was always left wondering just where he came from. When he had first found this tree, it was naught but a narrow sapling, but he knew immediately that it would be an excellent spot. “Sigh,” he thought, “I guess its time to return to my family. I have to make dinner soon.”

As the little alien stirred the food over his campfire with a fork he had discovered in the forest, he found himself thinking about his parent’s mistreatment of him. “I’ve always got to do all the work around here,” he thought. As the little alien placed their meals before the two acorns he couldn’t help but feel their disapproving glare. This was just another sign of how under appreciated he was. As far as he was concerned, it was the final straw. He threw down his utensil and through a shaking voice, finally managed to force up the words, “I’m sick of doing all the work. I’m moving to the big city and finding my place is this world.”

The little alien packed his few meager belongings into a handkerchief, but as he did so, he knew his mother was watching him accusingly. She had always been so judgmental, and was now attempting to guilt him into staying. “No Mom I’m tired of you oppressing me. I’m leaving home!!” yelled the little alien. He slung his bindle stick over his shoulder and began walking out of the forest.

As he exited the forest, the little alien caught his first glimpse of the flashy lights of the big city. Approaching the closest building, he held his hand above his eyes to block the sun. As he stared up at the horizon reaching buildings, “whoa, this place is crazy!!” was all he could think.

The little alien saw no people in the city due to the late hour, so he resigned himself to wander the streets until he finally found one to converse with. “If I am to talk to them, I will need an alibi,” he thought to himself as he continued down the roads, “that way when I speak to people no one will know I’m actually an alien who was raised by acorns. I’m so smart some times I scare myself.”

After much searching, the little alien saw a particularly wholesome looking gentleman with glasses and a large moustache out for a brisk morning walk. “Excuse me sir, my name is…” the little alien said before the heavily moustached man cut him off with his screams of surprise. “Sweet Tristan’s triangle!! I’ve discovered proof of alien life!! I’m a hero!!” the reasonably wholesome looking gentleman began to yell, flailing his arms around frantically and looking for another person to share his greatness with.

“Um… Sir? I wish to bridge the gap between our two peoples…” the little alien said in a meek tone. “SILENCE!!” the moustached man bellowed placing his index fingers to his temples, “I’m attempting to read your alien mind!!”

“Sorry…” the little alien said confused by the stranger, though he knew interrupting people had always been his greatest vice. Suddenly he knew how to make it up to this wholesome looking man, “say do you want to come meet my parents?” The wholesome seeming gentleman jumped at this chance, “Do I!?!”

“Here they are, my mom and dad…” the little alien said as he waved at the two acorns lying on the ground before him. The moustache-toting gentleman simply stared forward awhile before saying, “well I can’t honestly say that I’m not disappointed.”

“Well, enjoy your new slave mom and dad. I’m off to find my destiny,” the little alien said leaving home once more. The gentleman blinked a few times at the alien walking out of the forest and back at the two acorns. Finally he just sighed, “I hate my life…”

I'm working on a story...

I'm working on a story...
I haven't done creative writing in over 4 years... I think I gave it up for drawing...
I was reading some really old stuff, full of bad grammar and more clunky...
Then I started writing... I just started wanting to tell a story...
Sadly, this story is brutal... It is a tragedy, much like many lives...

For Her
The stranger leaned back and resigned himself to telling his story. His face was now half concealed in shadow as he began. What could be seen was wracked with the grief of a life too long filled with woe and horror. A curved “X” of a scar ran through the skin around his right eye and one of his pointed ears seemed like it had two mouse-sized bites out of it. The stranger spoke with his hands as he told his tale attempting to calmly accentuate his points, though often waving them around frantically as he became riled up.

“You just don’t understand the terror that lurks out there in the world. You think you can face it, but no matter what you do, it will find you and consume you. There is no hero that can save you, there is no safety, there is no hope!”

“Far from the hearts of people such as us,” he sighed and looked calmly across the table, “well far from your heart anyway, an evil lurks.” The stranger stared directly into her eyes for the first time since she had met him instead of at the table. “Oh gentle lady, this evil, it’s not some demon, nor a monster, nor any dragon you’ll ever meet. I’m talking about the evils of human greed. Greed so heavy that it would enslave its own people. The unprotected and the weak… Those that cry out without voices, all alone in the night.”

An Ode to the Night...

Beware the glory of the darkness for within its splendor we are many...
We are everywhere, we creatures of the night...

No joke, just a thought on another night at 4:39am... and I'm sitting in the dark reflecting on life... Is it everything you dreamed it would be?

I have a new reason to hate valentines day...

I've always been one to be adverse to the general aspects of valentines day. I won't bother getting into it, as it is all things we've heard time and time again.

I have a new reason to hate valentines day though. From this moment on, it will always be the day my cat died...

I am 22 years old, and she was 20...
I honestly can't even remember a time before she was around...
She was a part of my life...
It bothers me so much that she's gone...
It feels wrong somehow...

I've been prepping myself for this for almost 3 years now, but it still hurts...
Two summers ago, when I was staying at my parents house for work, I actually looked at her and thought everyday might be the last I ever see her.
I often would lie down on the floor under the dining room table and pet her for a few minutes before sleep each night, just in case it was the last time.
There were a few times I woke her up out of her slumber, just because I couldn't tell if it was over...

I can't even manage to compose my thoughts coherently it seems...

Monkey
She was a cat...
I loved her...

It's that simple...

Cheating on the metaphysics exam

Lately I seem to have this habit of bouncing back and forth between very serious/sad posts, and totally random ones to try and get back to my general wackiness...

In honour of that, it would appear to be time for something strange...
But unfortunately I have to share some sad news...

I have been thrown out of my religion and culture program at the university. They caught me cheating on the metaphysics exam. I looked into the soul of the chick sitting next to me.

TeeHee...

Welcome to the World Bitch...

I met some incredible people in the last few years. The kind of friends that no matter what visions I had of the future, be they so far removed from reality as to be laughable or close enough to be just within reach, I saw these people as part of it.

No matter what I do, they are slipping away. It's just, I seem to be the only one that gives half a damn about this. I stopped trying to get back to see some of the people from the past, and as a result I've not seen them. There have been so many missed birthdays, celebrations, and dissapointments gone by without seeing these people. They don't even try to keep our friendship, and this saddens me beyond words.

Truthfully, even if I saw them tommorow, it's been so long that they've all changed and I'm trying to hold onto a friendship with a memory I have from a few years ago of what we all were when I stupidly thought of us as so tight knit that these people would be at my wedding, my funeral, my entire life... I can't help it, I saw them there...

But they're people, they changed... And as real people do, they moved on...
Why don't I?

These people still occupy so much of my thoughts, I just find I often wonder how much they even think of me any more... These people... The people I drew with, the people I spray painted plastic fruit and rocks gold with, the people I dug through trash looking for treasure, the people I fell over drunk with, the people I laughed/cried/hugged/punched/loved...

I just miss my friends...

Once again this plague returns...

With the "true" winter finally arriving two days ago, I've actually finally put on my winter coat. Sadly it is too late, I have once again contracted the Black Death...

The comic basically displays my anger at my nose, which I have rubbed way too many times, and is raw to the point of actually bleeding on the outside...

Yes I know that's gross sounding, I'm sorry...

Anyway, my point here is my nose is a bastard... I intend to murder it, replace it with one made out of old potatoes, and then flee into the mountains and become the person everyone refers to as "Old Crazy Potato Man"

"He kills people and plants them in his potato garden," they'll all say. But they'll be wrong!! I'll just ask them politely to leave, and then when they're not looking steal there wallets.

Ah, its good to have goals...