Home, briefly

Saturday, 3 August 2002

well i drove 4 hours home to­day. i’ll of­fi­cial­ly be here for three weeks al­though i am go­ing to spend some time in Chicago. as soon as i got home i be­gan ‘nest­ing’ as my moth­er calls it, go­ing through all of my stuff and run­ning around in cir­cles like a dog does to as­sert and make it­self fa­mil­iar with its ter­ri­to­ry. any­way, i was go­ing through my file cab­i­net do­ing my year­ly pack­rat purge and i came across this one page sto­ry i wrote in 7th grade eng­lish class. i re­pro­duce it here in all it orig­i­nal hor­ri­ble­ness.

“Hey Skatch! Over here! The an­nu­al Ditterbloknic came up­on me un­ex­pect­ed­ly.” The Pysk rode her fer­ret to­ward the sound of the voice. “Heran must of got­ten drunk again,” she thought. “Heran, you im­be­cile, if you didn’t have a hang­over you would know that the Ditterbloknic was last dek­tide.” (mon­th) “Just free me,” Heran mut­tered. The Pysk sighed. “Heran you are the strangest Halfling I have ever known.” “Will you please free me?” the Halfling begged. The fer­ret chit­tered, and side­stepped ner­vous­ly. There were snuf­fling and grunt­ing sounds amid­st the heather. The sky be­came streaked with pur­ple and green. Everything on the hori­zon be­came grotesque­ly twist­ed out of shape. The fer­ret be­gins to chase his tail. “Easy Zine, calm down, help Heran!” Skatch shrieked. “I will if you ever free me!” Heran roared. Suddenly, all was calm. The fer­ret rolled on its side pant­i­ng. “Gee Skatch, the way you leapt off that fer­ret and ran to me al­most makes me think you were wor­ried about me.” “I should prob­a­bly have left you to Shenar and the Juggers.” “Not them, they take pride in tor­ture, they think its fun­ny.” “Why on­ce I heard that they stake you out on an anthill and pour hon­ey on your.” The Pysk shud­dered. “You last two or three days, but you go in­sane long be­fore you die.” “Well I should prob­a­bly free you,” Skatch sighed. “I was be­gin­ning to think you nev­er would.” Skatch be­gan to sing. Her song was low, light, and lilt­ing, but the song that the ground echoed back was a deep rum­ble. Heran sprang free from his trap. “Yaha! Finally I am free!” Skatch and the fer­ret watched com­pla­cent­ly wh­lie Heran danced around the din­gle. When he fi­nal­ly set­tled down Skatch had a con­fer­ence. “Now,” she said, “we must dis­cuss what has just hap­pened. These re­cur­ring time swirels are very strange, we must go to Shamino.” “Not that wiz­ard who thinks he’s a Mage,” the Halfling groaned. “Yes, him,” the Pysk said in­dig­nant­ly. “Now get off the ground and fol­low me.” The Pysk and Halfling stroll out of the din­gle and west to the wizard’s vil­la. The fer­ret, still pant­i­ng, trots be­hind.

The End (or is it)

Rewriting that made me re­al­ize just how much i bas­tardized from oth­er sto­ries. jee­bus. its fun­ny to see my at­tempts at al­lit­er­a­tion and the big words i use gra­tu­itous­ly. i got a 3020 on it. yeah ex­tra cred­it points for pla­gia­riz­ing.