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Below are the 18 most recent journal entries recorded in Tell Me a Story's LiveJournal:

Saturday, March 1st, 2008
7:10 pm
Darkwing Fuck


In that same preschool, they used to have us watch tv before they sent us home.  They’d make us all gather around their crappy old tv and watch cartoons, and normally I liked cartoons, but they’re not quite as fun when you’re watching them with a score of snot nosed brats who don’t know how to shut the fuck up.  So I found other ways to amuse myself.


One afternoon, they had us watching Darkwing Duck reruns, and I couldn’t hear a goddamn thing because their ancient tv had two volume settings, mousefart and off.  So I was sitting towards the back when I decided I was going to rhyme stuff with Darkwing Duck, cause that’s what I did when I was bored back then.  So I’m sitting there saying Darkwing Buck, Darkwing Wuck, Darkwing Tuck, etc.


At this point you might have picked up on the trend, and realized there’s only so many letters you can put in front of uck, and as (Darkwing) Luck would have it, I shortly made it to Darkwing Fuck.  I was six at the time and had no idea fuck was a bad word, or even a word at all.  But that little conniving bitch sitting next to me did, and there’s no way she was going to let me off the hook.


“What did you just say”

Darkwing Fuck says I, matter of factly and slightly proud of my rhyming abilities.

“I’m telling on you”

At this point I’m really confused, and pissed as this girl goes running over to the “teacher”.  The teacher gets up and walks over to me.



It rhymes with duck?



Thinking as quickly as I can and confused as fuck, I pick the first person who comes to mind.  My father, let that bastard take the blame for this one.  I get stuck in the corner until my mom picks me up, and the “teacher” explains what happened and that she’s concerned about my home life and my father.  Big mistake.  Instead of being pissed at me, she bitches out the “teacher” about how she has no idea what I’ve been through or what our home life is like and that’s it’s none of her business.


I get off with not so much as a word about it.

Friday, June 23rd, 2006
10:33 am
Growing Up


Every time I walk down this hallway, I don't realize I've seen it every day for 19 years. My entire life. The walls are close together. It's a cramped hallway, cluttered. One wall, the left, is a pale yellow-white, and the right wall is a wood paneling. The carpet is old and looks it. The pattern has faded into a comfy look that suggests how many generations have walked on it. I remember lying on the carpet with my grandmother's cat curled up on my stomach. I remember smoothing my left hand along the brown, fuzzy carpet and scratching behind the cat's ears with my right hand, feeling the softness surrounding me. My cheek lying against a distorted diamond. I remember thinking, wondering about what other's have thought about as they walked down this hallway. I wondered if any of them had the audacity to lie on the carpet in the middle of everyone's way, just as I was doing at that moment.

I closed my eyes, imaging the way everything looked... The prickly white ceiling made me always wonder if it felt like a cactus. The texture of it almost made me want to forgive it for being such a bland color. At the end of the hallway is a blue book case that is so great; it takes up the entire width of the hallway at the very end. Almost as though it were saying that the hallway did not end, that it just seems as though it has. It's filled with hundreds of childrend's books, amusing tales of far off, unrealistic odysseys.

Four doors. I could walk down this hallway blindfolded and instinctively know where each door is and which door leads to what room. On one door there is a partial hole at the bottom where someone kicked it in. There are two names placed on this door, as well as four paintings that shout the complexities of a child's mind that no one sees. There are pictures at the entrance of the hallway of family, pictures of my mom and her siblings. This is how I know what they looked like as they grew up. By the bathroom door there are tons of little, painted wooden blocks hanging on the wall, each one carrying an important or funny quote. Every Novemeber we hang up Christmas decorations all along these walls in anticipation of the holidays. This little room that no one considers a room always stays constant in appearance as thought it were tradition.

All four doors lead to somwehere special, to someone special. Into a magical fantasy of pirates and ships and fighting, of dragons and horses and spells, one door leads. Into a story-telling chamber of wild dreams and worlds another door leads. Onto a good-night-kiss planet with less gravity that allows me to jump when I walk. It's made of promisses that swear to me new days will come, that is where another door leads. The last door leads to a marshland with a never-ending, glittering sea and a large ship with two shiny masts. To magically exciting places all these doors lead. it gives comfort to know I am somewhere where all I have to do is twist a welded knob of gold and fall into another world and another time.

However, at some point in time, the left wall was partially painted over, and the bookcase was stripped bare of its memories. The carpet has rotted too much, and the doors to the other worlds and adventures have been replaced and hidden by large, wooden, faceless blocks that refuse to budge. The traditions of this room have ceased. There are no more decorations, and there are no more festivities to be seen. All the colorfull blocks that held quotes have been chipped or knocked off the walls. pictures have been removed and holes made by nails are stated clearly in the wood paneling. The hall is cold now and my feet are bare. I cannot find the other doors anymore; I've been blinded to all the feelings of the room.

Current Mood: hungry
Thursday, July 7th, 2005
12:27 am
     An early June brushes the hair from May’s eyes. It looks east and then pours down a good week of rain to give the soil a break before inviting the sun. When it finally rises, heralding summer in a blaze of apple trees, Aunt Sue plants her flowers to welcome it and calls you outside to help her. As the screen door slams behind you a woman comes past carrying her shopping bags, boots shuffling the hem of her skirt out of the way. She walks sobbing, low and constant. 
     “Morning, Betty,” Aunt Sue greets her. 
     “Mornin’,” Betty moans. “Fine... day for it,” she nods to the garden. The words fall out of her sinking mouth comfortably in small shudders of grief. 
     “What’s wrong?” you ask Sue after she’s gone. Sue picks up a flat of pansies and takes it down to the dirt beside the steps where she sits down. 
     “With who? Betty? Aw, she's all right. Story goes she went to hear a man play the fiddle when she was a girl," Sue takes a bandana out of the pocket of her apron and drags it across her forehead. "And damned if he didn’t break her heart and tie the pieces to the strings before leaving town for good.” 
     “But she’s old now!” you exclaim, though Betty can't be past her thirties. 
     Aunt Sue laughs. “And aren’t you just a young one for saying so? Cryin' Betty’s no crone, she’s just been well worn. I’d bet that fiddle player came through twenty years ago and she’s not stopped those tears for one minute of it.” 
     “You mean she’s loved him ever since?” 
     Sue cranes her neck and squints at you. “I said he left town with her heart in pieces. It’s not the same thing, dear, now hand me that spade.” 

     Many summers later Betty watches as you dance barefoot near the band at a party. She sees how your smiles almost shy away from the handsome grins of the young men on the porch and she cries a quick prayer for you. That spring planting evaporated years ago into a memory of thinly sliced lemons in a pitcher of tea and Aunt Sue wiping the sweat from her neck. All you know now of Betty’s crying is the sound of banjos and violins which spikes your drink and splits the lamplight into twin, gold ribbons of heartache and redemption. The backyard music weaves you into the story of all the things that have taken place and can be played there. This is all you need, it croons, and then steals your heart in exchange for having told you.
Wednesday, February 23rd, 2005
1:05 am
like making wishes on the streetlights, one by one
We're leaning up against the wall of her apartment as though leaving it would mean leaving one another. Or at least it seems that way to me; for all I'm here for, she might not even notice.
Then she asks, "Don't you think it's tragic, the way the lightening flashes before you hear it coming?"
"Marion," I start, but she's staring out onto the street below, quiet-like for the first time since the shaking stopped, and she's speaking in real words now so I just watch her.
She feels cold and thin and breakable as a windowpane, the image on the other side of her obscured by the water that pours down the glass.
"I love this," she whispers.

I don't tell her that it isn't raining.
Thursday, August 19th, 2004
2:30 am
I used to love this boy, but he's gone now and whatever has replaced him is something wrong.

He took me on my first date, a formal dance, and everything was perfect and he was beautiful and I was happy because someone took an interest in me for once. We had talked two days earlier at the bonfire and under those stars I prayed to Freya for help....This was before the disease began to take hold.

Things never went right. October was hard. He ignored me, led me on, teased me with other girls. I began to vomit all the time in anxiety. My hair fell out in clumps sometimes. I never slept. I needed him. He was beautiful. I needed someone beautiful.

We had Choir and theater together so we were always in close contact that year. Always doing plays and concerts. Everyone thought we were dating. Jennifer was a thorn in my side. Getting in between us. Jenna was my adversary, vying for his love.

We had planned this date once, a date at the Roller Skating Rink, and it was January so it was snowing. I waited and waited for him, trying to call his house, hoping he'd show up. I was with my friend, who hated him because she knew what he was like. He never showed up.
When it came time to leave, me and my friend waited outside in the cold for my father to come pick us up. The snow was falling and I began to cry because it wasn't the first time he had done this to me, and it wouldn't be the last. It was so cold, the tears froze to my face and my cheeks were coated with ice.

That March, our choir went to Willamsburg for a competition. At Busch Gardens we all gathered for the awards ceremony and it was raining. Me and him ate fried chicken and potato salad in the rain, under a pavilion, together. I bought funnel cake for him and we shared that, the powder getting on my poncho. I was happy.

He told me he didn't want to go to Prom, which I accepted. I found out the day before Prom he was going with Karen.

The last time I saw him, before he died and something else filled his vessle, was as he drove away, me standing infront of the gate to the Old School and watching the back of his neck drive off into the Spring night. All Summer I tried to contact him, spend time with him, tell him I loved him.
I saw what he turned into that October and such an illness and bile began to fill me.

I never saw his oldself again. I concider him dead now.
I do not mourn anymore.

Current Mood: cynical
Monday, May 31st, 2004
3:01 am
Who owns this community?
Sunday, May 9th, 2004
12:11 pm
Student Teaching Experiences: Adventures in masking tape
I Started out at Newman with Mrs. MacIntyre. I was sooo excited to be there. It was a great school, Mrs.MacIntyre was an excellent teacher, it was the perfect place to work. I was sooo excited to be a pseudo-"real" teacher and to be in the real world. I was going to be the best teacher ever. Really. I couldn't wait to be done with school and be in the real world finally. Well, I started out going to Newman the week before school started to organize our brand new classroom. I loved going to all the meetings and meeting the other teachers. Finally, we got some free time to decorate our classrooms. Mrs.MacIntyre asked me to put up all the posters and things she had bought for the room. We had about fifteen different musical mice to use as a border for one end of the classroom and about fifteen different penguins in a band to use at the back of the classroom as a border. We also had a million posters and things to put up. I found a ladder and got to work. I put tape all over the mice, penguins and other posters and proceded to hang them where Mrs.MacIntyre had asked me to. I hung all thirty or forty of the posters that morning and then we went to lunch. Lunch was great. It was catered in and very very good. We came back to the room and Mrs.MacIntyre inspected my work. She took one of the posters off of the wall and looked at the back of it. I looked too. There were about five or six pieces of the School Approved Masking Tape For Wall Hangings on the back. "This poster does not have enough tape on it. It's going to fall down. Is this how much tape you put on all of these posters?" "More or less", I answered, "Depending on the size of the hanging". "Well, its not enough. You need to redo all of this". She began pulling off every poster I had hung. Then I went and fetched us back the ladder so I could take down all of the borders on the wall. She told me I needed to cover the entire back of the poster with tape. So, I began making long vertical strips that covered the back. Coming back into the room, Mrs.MacIntyre remarked, "No, you need to put small pieces dotting the entire back. Long strips will not work either". So much for creativity. So, I took the tape off of the posters and began yet again with very small ohs of tape dotting the entire backside. An hour or so later, the tape had been installed. Next, I stood on the ladder as Mrs.MacIntyre helped direct me to where exactly each penguin and musical mouse should go. They had to be perfectly symmetrical and in line with each other. By two or three in the afternoon, we had finally finished hanging the posters and I was able to move on to organizing the music and the closets. The next day when I came in, I found Mrs.MacIntyre staring at the band of penguins bordering the ceiling in the back of the room. "Do the penguins look uneven to you?" I stared at the wall and observed that the room was not really a square and that the back wall met the right wall at a 45 degree inside angle. Since the wall wasn't really even, it looked like the penguins moved down from the ceiling in a straight line. We spent a few minutes discussing whether the penguins were parallel to the ceiling and it was an optical illusion of perspective that they looked like they were going down or if they actually were going down. Mrs.MacIntyre called two other teachers and a janitor into the room and asked them if they thought the penguins looked even. The five of us spent a few more minutes discussing the evenness of the penguin band. It was decided that the penguins were indeed uneven and I went to fetch the ladder once again to take them down. With Mrs.MacIntyre standing near me and the janitor standing near the front of the room, we deliberated the exact spot to hang each penguin so that they would be exactly parallel to the ceiling.
Our next task was to hang five picture frames on the side wall. Mrs.MacIntyre fretted that the maintenance man was not available to come and hang the pictures for us because the new school building had just opened and he was still busy caulking windows and things like that. "I could hang them for you", I replied. "Do you know how to hang pictures? Have you hung a picture before?" "Well, no, but I know how to do it. I think it'd be pretty easy to figure out." "Really? I don't know how to hang pictures. Isn't that something you get a professional to do?" "Well, a lot of people do it themselves." So, we began the task of hanging pictures. It was not an easy task. First, we had to decide the exact pattern the five pictures should hang in: Two on each side, one in the middle? In a straight line? Alternating top and bottom? The young and hip art teacher was called in to give her opinion on the most aesthetically pleasing design. She wasn't much help to Mrs.MacIntyre as she said, "Whatever you like best will probably look fine." So, the graphic designer was called in to give his opinion. Another discussion evolved that had me arranging the pictures in different formats on the floor as we discussed the pros and cons of each arrangement. It was finally decided that two on each side, one in the middle looked best for five pictures. Next, I held them up to the wall and made little marks as we decided how far apart they should be spaced, where on the wall they should be and how far up or down. We then got a yardstick and made sure it was super straight. We held the pictures up to it and made all these marks about where to put the hammer in. Finally hammering the nail and hanging the pictures was the easy part. When it was all done, Mrs.MacIntyre looked dissatisfied. She thought the pictures looked uneven. But, there was nothing we could do about it because we couldn't hammer any more holes into the wall or we would get in trouble with administration. Although I thought the pictures looked even, I felt guilty because I had not advised Mrs.MacIntyre to hire a Professional Picture Hanger. So much for being the productive and helpful student teacher.

Current Mood: annoyed
Saturday, November 15th, 2003
1:37 pm
*I'm New*
Here's a story... *sorry if i confuse you*

There was this guy jason, Oh my goodness, I really like him alot. He started working with me, a few months ago. Never really talked to him. When i first saw him, i knew he was someone i really wanted to get to know. He wasn't perfect, and wasn't drop dead gorgeous, but he was good enough for me. He had all the qualities i looked for in a man. We became good friends, went to every single scary horror movie ever played in theatre's together. He would hold me when i'm scared, and calm me down, and hold onto me, onto my hand. I was really falling in love with him. or i think i was. Then i told a friend that was his best friend, she didn't like the idea too much, because she didn't want him to get so-called hurt by me. She thinks she knows alot about me but she doesn't, we barely talk. She get's mad, and tells me i dont really like him and telling me all this shit, like she doesn't want me dating him, and she would never date him. Comes a few weeks ago, she decides to play a practical joke on me, pretending that they are dating, which made me think of her as some kind of hypocrit. I got angry, i grew into tears, i really cared and loved this kid. She ditched him on halloween for some other guy who she wasnt best friends with, so i invited him to come with me, and guess what we had a great time, it felt like me and jason were dating, even though we really weren't. pissed me off, then she goes around telling everyone that i tried ending their friendship, which wasn't even true, i didn't say a thing to anyone about them or anything, i just stated that i was upset with the joke. i didn't think it was too funny. Jason told me he liked his best friend julia (the girl that played the joke) so i told her, so maybe she would leave me alone. I think that news screwed things up for her. It wasn't my fault this all happened, it was her's. I dont know how this all started or how it came about... all i can say is whatever. So now me and julia aren't friends, am i supposed to feel hurt??? I cant believe she would have the nerve to tell me that i was breakin the relationship between her and jason, when all i did was try to make him happy by tellin him to ask her out for real, and not as a joke like they made it out to be. Well now Jason seems to be still into me, and julia drifted away a hella lot. its not like we were best friends or anything...i know my best friend missy would never do that to me. Jason i think he still likes me, and even if he did ask me out now, i'm way to hurt by him goin along with the joke, and how could i ever trust him again??? yet, i think i still like him.
Tuesday, April 9th, 2002
8:59 pm
Pokemon Story Start (Yes I know it's corny but i was into it and it is just sitting in my data base.
Tay Kanth�s Adventures
Chapter 1

In Celedon City, people and trainers are moving around. Tay Kanth is walking with her pok�mon heading out of the city when a shadow is cast. People and trainers look up and see Moltres flying by. They are shocked and excited. Questions are asked with no answers. Team Rocket is also in the city, Carrie and Curtis. They too see Moltres. "After it!" Carrie shouts. The two rockets follow in the same general direction, knocking Tay off her feet in their hurry....

Tay gets to her feet as the two rocket members run after the Moltres. She starts off after them. She called back to her little eevee, "Come on Sage! We are gonna teach those troublemakers a lesson on courtesy!" she ran off, the eevee close at her heels. They ran through crowds of people and Tay was careful not to bump anyone as she dodged through the hustle and bustle. They ran through the market place and a shopkeeper threw her a piece of fruit as she ran by. �Thanks Randy!� she called to him but her voice was lost in the crowd. The rocket members jogged into the forest and, as she caught up with the rocket members, she remembered how she had met Sage.

Tay had been all alone in the woods and it was rapidly becoming dark. She heard noises and suddenly a large Raticate had come at her. She had called for help but no one was there. Then an eevee came bounding through the bushes and attacked the raticate. The raticate had run off with a broken tooth and she and Sage had been friends ever since. She shook her head and saw the rocket members panting for breath. Her eevee came up next to her and sat down refreshed from the exercise. Tay listened to the rocket members talking.

�Crud! Now we have to wait for it to show up again! We are probably going to have to wait all night before it comes out of it�s den again!� Complained Curtis.

�Oh be quiet and quit whining! Giovanni will be really happy if we get this for him! Especially since he needs it for (whisper) � scolded Carrie ending the sentence so low that Tay couldn�t hear.

So, Tay thought that�s their hurry. Well we�ll see to it that they don�t get away with it!

Current Mood: geeky
Saturday, April 6th, 2002
8:03 pm
Yesss... another new girl with absoloutly nothing logical to write about....
Saturday, February 23rd, 2002
12:24 pm
The Legend of the Howl
During the beginning, when all the animals were picking out their fur and feathers, everyone scrambled to get good covering. Wolf was in there with the rest of the animals, he got a wonderful coat of fur, it was a beautiful creamy yellow-orange with dark spots covering it, and he was proud and strutted about with his lovely coat. He was bragging to his friend, Coyote, about it in his dull voice, which all animals had, while all the other animals were walking or flying off with their coats. Yes, everyone else is going home disappointed because I got the most beautiful of coats there is! Wolf boasted. Coyote rolled his eyes at Wolf and sat there waiting patiently until Wolf was done ranting and raving.

Behind Wolf stood Leopard, Leopard had a coat of sleek shiny fur but did not like it. He was greedy and wanted Wolfs fur instead. So Panther asked Fox, the cunning trickster, to help him. Fox, if you help me I will make sure you get the most wonderful of voices when the time comes. You will sing with the best of them! Fox quickly agreed and devised a plan to make Wolf take off his coat. Fox started to dig next to a path and soon he hit a underground stream, it filled his hole with water quickly. The surface looked like any normal pond but underneath was a raging whirlpool, Fox was soon caught and Leopard had to save him. They both snickered as they padded down the path to wait for unsuspecting Wolf.

The next day later Wolf was walking down a path trying to hum in his dull voice but failing miserably, he did not mind for soon he would have a voice as well. He came across a pond and said to himself, It is so hot out, and the water looks so inviting! I think Ill go for a swim. Wolf wiggled out of his coat to keep it from getting ruined, as the paints from its creation were not quite dry yet. He set it on a rock while he dove into the water. Immediately Leopard and Fox jumped out and grabbed Wolfs wonderful coat, replacing it with Leopards second hand coat.

Wolf was caught in the whirlpool and could not get out to stop them. Coyote came along and saw Wolfs plight, he helped Wolf out and said, Hurry Wolf! The voices are about to be given out! We mustnt be late! The two friends hurried but, alas, they arrived as all the animals were leaving with their new voices. Wolf and Coyote ran to the pile but found only harsh sounds left with a few weak whimpers. They did their best to put together decent voices and walked away ashamed.

As they left Leopard and Fox were arguing over their voices. You said you would give me the best voice! Fox yelped at Leopard, Instead youve left me with a few meager yaps!

Leopard growled deeply and laughed at Fox, Weakling, did you think I was going to give you what I could so easily have? Ive only got one sound left to add to my voice so stand back! With that, Leopard lifted the beautiful haunting howl to his lips but before he could swallow it Fox leaped and batted it away from him. The howl bounced between Coyote and Wolf, they looked at each other and cut it neatly in half, each eating one part so that they could both howl.

Leopard roared at Fox who yelped in fear and ran as far as he could from him. Then in anger at Leopard for stealing his beautiful coat Wolf bounded over and howled with all his might, the haunting sound reverberated through out the lands and every animal stopped and cowered at the sound. Leopards eyes widened and he ran from Wolf, fearing for his life. Wolf and Coyote congratulated each other on their accomplishments and went their separate ways. This hurt their souls deeply as they were friends from puppyhood. From then on, every night at moon rise they both howled with all their might to the memory of each other.

Current Mood: creative
Saturday, January 5th, 2002
9:00 pm
a weird story.
Mr.Dilumphadee had a lovely holiday on the south shore of Sneezerickle last month. He went to cure a bad case of Frijinkalitis. (In case you're not familiar with this disease, it turns you a fresh shade of lime green with little fuschia pinstripes and you can only speak the word Pierre. Imagine holding a conversation with a Frijinkalitic person -- So how are you doing today? Pierre... That bad eh? Well I'm about to go for a swim, you up to it? PIERRE! uhh... ok.) Apparently the only cure for Frijinkalitis is a long lay underneath the sun on the purple beaches of Sneezerickle. So Mr.Dilumphadee had his true vacation only after about a week of laying motionless on the beach. It wasn't a happy time for him. All he could REALLY do was think, and that much time alone with your own thoughts can be slightly challenging for anyone.

Mr.Dilumphadee began to think really critically about his life. He thought of his wife, Yrtl, who had to stay home and sustain their fruit freeze-drying business. Did he really love her? After about two days thinking on that topic, far too long thinking about something because after a while you simply question yourself too much, he decided very firmly that he loved her with his entire being, more than anything else...he had time to compare his love for her with everything else...

Then he began to question his job. Why did he ever get into fruit freeze-drying anyways? Fruit was much better fresh and, come to think of it, he hated fruit. He was more of a meat and potatoes man. What he really loved to do was paint landscapes...but there really wasn't much of a market out there for landscapes, so he nixed that ambition before he had barely considered it.

But Mr.Dilumphadee continued to dream of painting the most beautiful landscapes you had ever seen, full of vibrant colors which transcended sight, which expressed the inner spirit of land, the beauty of the life within a thing that many people considered to be lifeless.

Mr.Dilumphadee didn't consider another thing throughout the rest of the week. The next 120 hours were filled with his contemplating his employment, and once he had returned to his original color and was able to say,"Piebald," he decided that this was his VACATION and he was going to paint a landscape. So, Mr.Dilumphadee set up an easel and palatte overlooking the beach that he had come to know so well.

He could now feel the rhythm of the ocean, the exquisite cycle of the life of the sand, the harmonizing temperament of the surrounding rocks and fields of seawheat. Mr.Dilumphadee closed his eyes and breathed the fresh seawater scent in swiftly through his nostrils. This is what it is to be alive, he thought as he stroked his paintbrush over the canvas, This is what it is to have meaning.

Mr.Dilumphadee never considered for another moment whether he should continue freeze-drying fruit or not. (Yrtl truly loved the business, and he didn't stand in her way.) The painting that Mr.Dilumphadee painted that day captured the seashore exactly -- not in a physical, realistic way, but much deeper than that. It spoke directly to the heart of the observer,"I am the purple beaches of Sneezerickle, the ocean and all contained therein, the rocks and the seawheat, I am this system of life." By viewing it, one could know what it was like to live as the land did.

He never sold a landscape ever. Those who were highbrow art critics couldn't understand the feelings Mr.Dilumphadee's art gave them. Those who could were given the painting freely. Mr.Dilumphadee had found the rhythm of his own life and wanted to share it with all he could.

His wife sold them some fruit to take with their painting. ;)

Current Mood: curious
Wednesday, January 2nd, 2002
8:52 pm
A Knight's Tale
Once upon a time there lived a knight in shining armor. His name was Knight. Knight was never very remarkable. He had no special features on his face; he wasnt stronger or weaker than anybody else. But for some reason when he was a squire neither teachers nor students paid any attention to him. His given name was Dayan but no one could remember it so they called him by his surname, Knight. When Galahad did a particularly good thrust with his sword, everyone congratulated him, but Knight would do a similar one and no one would even notice. Despite all this he had great success through Knight School, and he followed the code of chivalry in everything he did.

He went through vigorous training just like all the other knights, but they all had horses and a lady. Our poor knight had neither of those. The problem was that he never could get anywhere to save someone or some village because he had no horse. He had to walk, so he was always too late.

Why am I the only one who doesnt have a horse? I could be the
greatest knight in the whole of Europe if only I had a set of hoofs, (leather exterior, 1 horse power) thought the knight to himself one day, But no one wants to sell a knight a mount if he hasnt done anything spectacular. I need only to slay a dragon or defeat a sorcerer.

The poor knight traveled the land for days chasing each opportunity, but always arrived a minute too late. One day, as he stumbled into a shabby town, he noticed that it was awfully rundown and looked deserted. Knight had just traveled through thirty miles of marshland and was incredibly tired.

Great. Just my luck. Ive come into the one ghost town in this forsaken land, the poor knight mumbled.

He heard a feeble noise and saw a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. A young boy, no more than ten years of age, had hidden in a neglected bakery. The boy came out and started rushing towards the knight with open arms. With a flying leap the small boy landed on the knight, hugging him and crying tears of happiness. Knight was too tired to brace himself against the small body and was thrown to the ground unconscious.

Come out, come out everyone! A knight has come! We are saved! The joyful call of the boy rang throughout the town and slowly, one by one, the townspeople came out to see this knight with their own eyes, hardly believing their luck. Knight was picked up by the townspeople and brought inside. The mayor ordered that food and drink be fetched.

Rise and shine sleepy head! Weve food and drink for you so please do get up! The knight woke to the sweet voice of a beautiful lady.

What? Are you an angel, am I dead?! Knight sat up suddenly gasping in fear for his life.

The lady laughed and shoved pastries, meaty goods and wine into his hands, Silly, are you not here to defeat the dragon that has been terrorizing us? We would be ever so grateful if you did. We would give you your hearts desire, and Id give you my hand in marriage. You are going to need all your strength to defeat it though. Eat.

My hearts desire? Knight sputtered through a mouthful of meatroll, That would be a faithful steed to see me through battles. I shall defeat this dragon of yours.

The mayors daughter, for that is who she turned out to be, told Knight the tale of the dragon. A while back this town was prosperous and well known, but we wanted more and more. Soon we became so greedy we sought after the sorcerer Croissant to grant us wealth. The sorcerer said no, but we persisted and he became angry. He summoned a dragon to torment us and so it has been ever since. Many knights have come and tried to slay the monster, but each was dispatched quickly by the fearsome she-dragon. The sorcerer had given us a way out though, if one knight could stop the dragon we would be returned to our previous prosperity, but only with the labor of our own sweat.

The knight saw this as his chance for victory. He set out as soon as he had regained his stamina. As he marched up the hill to the dragons cave, he wondered if it was really worth risking his life for these greedy people. Then he remembered the looks of intense regret on their faces and realized that they had learned their lesson. Knight reached the cave and called out the dragon. He waited and waited, but the dragon did not come out. He charged in and found that the dragon was not there. As he came out he looked towards the town and saw that it was under attack. The dragon had slipped by him by going down the other side of the hill.

Knight ran clanking down the hill, sword in hand, and reached the dragon as it was picking up the mayors daughter and preparing to eat her. Stop fiend! Put down Lady Eclaire and face me! He yelled as he brought his sword down on the dragons thick, soft hide. The dragon felt the blow even though it did no damage. It dropped Eclaire and turned towards Knight, breathing flame. It picked up Knight with one of its mighty claws and brought him up to her mouth. The dragon opened its maw in a devious grin, and her forked tongue shot out and--licked Knight. She put Knight down in the square lovingly and started nuzzling him. Astonished, Knight realized that the dragon would do him no harm and that she was only a cream puff. He sent her back to the hill to wait for him.

I have tamed your dragon, she is no longer a threat to your village, announced Knight.

The townspeople rejoiced and had a banquet to celebrate. Halfway through, rumor went around suggesting that the knight hadnt really done anything. The dragon would have stopped anyway. Knight just happened to be in the right place at the right time. The next day when he stopped by the stables to receive his new mount, they would not let him have one, denying that they had ever made that promise. When he asked Eclaire what was happening she said that he was to go on his way and that the dragon was to go with him.

What about our marriage? asked Knight When shall I come back for you?

Never. I cant have that beast ruining our--I mean my house. Can you imagine the burn marks? retorted Eclaire, Besides what would other towns think of me if I married you? Now run along.

But, hon

No buts.

Oh crumbs!

So Knight dejectedly went and got the dragon and they started off. At least Ive one friend, thought Knight. The townspeople threw breadsticks and scones and day old rolls from the bakery at the dragon and Knight as they left. This continued until the dragon could not stand it any longer. She turned and incinerated the town leaving the townspeople with nothing but a pile of soot. Harsh words may wound my pride but breadsticks and scones and day old rolls will never hurt me.

As the dragon and the knight continued she saw that the knight was still unhappy about not getting a horse, he still had to walk. The dragon lowered her forearm so that he could climb up on her back just below the neck ridge. Knight, being the good person that he was, had not even considered riding her and was at a loss until he understood he was to climb up on her neck. He scrambled up and she leaped up into the air. The two of them flew off to do more good deeds. Even though Knight knew hed never get any recognition for any of them, he still followed the code of chivalry.

Current Mood: amused
Sunday, December 30th, 2001
3:08 pm
Hiya! I just joined and I am very happy to have found a community where I can share my happy stories! Hope you all have a good day/night/afternoon.

Current Mood: happy
3:03 pm
The Tale of Foid the Pig
Once upon a time there was a little pink pig. It was a very happy pig and everyday it would eat some yummy brusselsprouts from its neighbor's garden. The neighbor was not happy about this and he decided to get rid of the pig because of it. His wife agreed and they went out late at night to make bacon, hot dogs, ham and who knows what else out of him. Luckily, the pig had woken up before they came after him so he had time to get away. The little pig, whom we shall now call Foid, ran as fast as his little hooves could carry him down a dusty road. When Foid could run no further he sat down on a big red rock. After only a few minutes the rock began to move! The rock rumbled and said "Who sat on me?! I was dreaming of blue cheese!" The rock was, in fact, not a real rock but a Turkey who thought of itself as a mouse!

"I am truly sorry, I did not know you were a turkey sir, apologized Foid

"Your apology is NOT accepted, not because of the rock issue, ooohh nooooo, You just called me a turkey when any fool could see plainly that I, sir, am a mouse!" The turkey who thought he was a mouse said angrily.

Just then a foolish looking person popped out of the ground pointed to the turkey and yelled "GAHHHHHH!! ITS A MOUSE RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!!!!!"

The Turkey grinned showing all of his teeth and turned back to Foid, the little pink pig. "Now run as fast as you can away from here because, even though you called me a turkey when any fool could see plainly that I am a mouse." The fool came out again and called the turkey a mouse, "I can hear with my amazing mouse ears that a brusselsprout farmer and his wife who are after you to make bacon, hot dogs, ham and who knows what else are coming up the road with a large cleaver and if you do not disappear quickly I too will join them in the chase!" Foid ran away in fear of the three who were now chasing him for no apparent reason even though he had offended them all in one way or another.

Once again he could not run any longer and he saw another rock only this time he said to himself, "I mustnt sit upon this rock or I will surely be in trouble with another turkey who thinks he is a mouse. This time I shall sit on the big brown log!" Thinking himself quite clever he sat upon the brown log to rest. But, alas, no sooner had he rested his cute curly tail on it then it had begun to move! Oh woe am I thought Foid No doubt this is a large angry dog who thinks himself to be a cat! And, as Foid had predicted, a large angry dog who thought itself to be ca cat emerged from what he thought to be a log. "Oh please forgive me sir, I thought you were a log but in reality you are a dog!" Poor little Foid cried.

Now, before I continue the story any further, please let me explain why Foid had not learned from his past mistake. Foid, my friends is a truthful pig, even though he knew that the dog would get angry at him for calling it a dog he could not call it a cat without suffering painful consequences from his conscience.

Of course now the dog is infuriated and he called out to the pig, "Cur! How dare you call me a dog when any idiot could see that I am a cat!"

As the dog finishes the sentence a idiotic looking person fell from the sky and yelled "EVERYBODY!! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! ITS A CAT!!!"

The dog turned to Foid with a smirk upon his muzzle and told him, " Now run as fast as you can from here because, even though you called me a dog when any idiot could see that I am a cat." The idiot shook his head again from the fall and called the dog a cat." I can feel the vibrations with my amazing cat whiskers of a brusselsprout farmer, his wife and a turkey who thinks it is a mouse who are after you to make bacon, hot dogs, ham and who knows what else are coming up the road with a large cleaver and if you do not get out of my sight soon I too will join them in the chase!"

Poor little Foid, who was now becoming quite tired from all the running he was doing, ran away from the dog as fast as his fat little porker legs could carry him.

Now as Foid ran he thought of all the stupid things that had happened to him just because he decided to eat the farmer's brusselsprouts. I shouldn't have eaten that guy's brusselsprouts without his permission...it was cruel and heartless of me, what if he needed that crop to be good so he could get by in the winter?! Once again Foid could run no longer, and also once again he found a rock, a log and a clump of grass. Foid was not a stupid pig so he troted up to the rock and said, "Excuse me but are you anything but a rock and would you be offended if I sat on you?"

To his surprise and pleasure the rock replied, "I happen to be a platypus not a rock, and you may not sit on me. I can understand why you might think me a rock though..." and with that it waddled off.

Foid went to the log and tried again, "Excuse me but you don't happen to be anything but a log do you?"

"I am sorry, I do rather look like a log don't I? I am a porcupine and proud of it!" the log-porcupine said kindly to Foid and stalked off into the night.

Sighing Foid walked slowly over to the clump of grass and asked as politely as he could, "Do my eyes decive me or are you a clump of grass and if you are may I rest in you?" No reply came but Foid stared intently and with the utmost attention at it waiting. Pretty soon the brusselsprout farmer and his wife, the turkey-mouse and the dog-cat caught up with Foid, only to find him stareing intrestedly at the clump of grass.

"What do you think he is doing?" wondered the Farmer to his wife.

"I don't have the slightest clue but whatever it is it must be very exciting or else he would not have stopped!" she replied. So they both stoped and stared too. The Turkey-mouse and the dog-cat had been running and following the Farmer and his wife but by this time had forgotten why. They took one look at each other and the dog started to chase the turkey meowling with glee and the turkey squeeked anxiously. The two ran into the forest never to be seen again but definately to be heard forever more. As for Foid, the brusselsprouts farmer and his wife, well for all I know they could still be standing by that clump of grass waiting for something to happen. The End.

Current Mood: ecstatic
Sunday, December 16th, 2001
9:09 pm
Left alone on the table
not even used.
White as can be
and all alone.

Current Mood: numb
Wednesday, December 5th, 2001
3:09 am
My friend tells this better, but I might as well give it a shot...

All the good stories start in a land far, far away or on a dark and stormy night. Unfortunately this story started right down the street from my house and the bulk of the story took place on a cool, but very calm night. It was dark at least. I guess the story has that going for it.

For three years Eight and Pigfrigger hung out together. And for a good part of those three years they had a plan. The plan was little more than a dream. They figured it would never happen and they never took any action on it. Many nights they sat in the parking lot with their friends just hanging around, planning the assault. And that is as far as it got.

As the years went by Pigfrigger and Eight drifted apart. Pigfrigger was fired from his job for stealing thousands of dollars and was nearly arrested. But ironicly enough it was Eight that fell into the wrong crowd. Eight met up with his soon to be accomplises Seven and Dragoon.

And that is where the night started. The cool September night. It started with a pre-celebratory round of Awful Awfuls. Seven nearly puked. But that's a whole nother story. Seven and Eight met up with Dragoon and they decided to do it. They never planned it, never talked about it, but the best plans are made up on the spur of the moment anyways. So they went for it.

They parked the vehicles into the Abyss and made their way towards their goal. Dragoon watched on as Seven and Eight scaled the Little Brown Shoe. Eight reached up and snipped at the laces. One lace fell. Two laces fell. They were going for the third and fourth, but their nerve crumbled when they imagined they heard the Donors after them.

But they had two. They made it away with two laces. The dreams, the plans, everything, became reality. To this day they are legends in their home town.

And for the first time, I shall reveal what the code means! The code words were made up on that night. It was all going too smoothly so Seven and Eight made up some code words so it sounded more official.

What really went down that night? Two guys, Seven and Eight, and their accomplish, Dragoon, climbed up the side of a Taco Bell restaraunt in the middle of the night and stole the flags off of the top of it. For years Eight really did plan that assault. I can not reveal the names of Seven and Eight, but Dragoon was actually a red herring. He was not just one man, but four! Mel Gibson, Christopher Walkin, Antonio Banderes, and Julia Roberts. They did nothing but watch from afar. They had a cel phone as did Seven and Eight just in case things went bad and they had to be bailed out of jail. It was one hell of a night!

Current Mood: nostalgic
Tuesday, November 20th, 2001
10:40 am
Me and this very cute boi were riding in the car.

He turned to me as he pulled a small white cylinder from his pocket and asked, "How many times do you think I can spray this into my mouth in one sitting?"

I said,"All at the same time?"


I figured this must be a special talent of his so I guessed a high number....


He was shocked. "THIRTY??? The most I've ever done was five..."

He asked me to count and, as he was driving, sprayed the Sweet Breath into his mouth for 30-something squirts in a row. He began making strange noises and mildly convulsing as he was overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience. We started laughing like crazy. I then realized that it was my fault he was in this mess so I decided I should do it as well. So thirty squirts later we were both sitting there, shaking and drooling as we drove down the highway.

"I can't feel my tongue!"
"Neither can I!"
"I bet my breath smells really good now!"
"I bet my breath smells really BAD NOW!"
"You know, I think 15 squirts of this stuff shows up on a breathalyzer..."
"We're going to get drunk!"

:) good times, good times.

Current Mood: bouncy
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