I don't think I've mentioned this to a lot of people, but I've started making games. But in a hilarious twist of irony, I get anxious whenever I play video games because I feel like I should be working on my own game. Long after inspiration has faded, Space Delinquent lies incomplete. It yearns to be loved and nurtured. Longs to be a complete game.

Now do not get me wrong. Space Delinquent will be finished. But it's hard not to think about the next game, and the game after that, and what platform you are going to develop for, in what language.

Ultimately, I wish to satisfy my lust for telling stories. I can never draw comics on the level I want to. I have come to terms with that. I could't possibly write a novel. But games are a huge part of my life, and they are something I am immersed in. None of my real life friends read comics, and most don't even read books. But we all play games. And eventually, everyone in the world will.

I turned twenty-three recently and my thoughts have centered around moving out. It's not that I even really want to move out, but more that I don't want to be one of those guys that lives with his parents forever. I look at how much money I make versus how much an apartment is and it just does not seem reasonable. I can honestly say that I have no idea how people are meant to survive around here. What am I doing wrong?

I'm hoping to be good enough at making games that I can do it full time. I know it sounds crazy. As about as crazy as doing comics full time, I guess. But I'm going to school for computer science so it's a much more realistic dream, I think. I don't want to give up on comics forever though. I could probably find a way to combine the two thoughtfully given enough time. And no I don't mean using comics for cutscenes. It would have to take the traits that make them so good and somehow fit into a game. Something to think about.

Shell

I don't know if I'm remembering this correctly because my memory is pretty shit, but there was this Marylin Manson interview where he described music as an escape. He could put on a record and recede into this musical shell where your parents, your teachers, or your friends couldn't bother you. If I recall correctly, I could not relate at all.

When I was younger, I consumed music. You have to understand that this is around the time Napster became this huge deal. If you wanted to hear a song, you could just download it for free. How wild! It seems silly now, obviously, but it was almost like a race back then to see how much music you could accumulate from lesser known bands.

Oh you haven't heard of them? They're the best, but there stuff isn't sold in stores.

Well of course it fucking isn't. But I just ate that shit. Who are these guys? Okay this one song is good. Oh yeah, they're my new favorite band. I bought all their shirts.

To this day I don't think my friend Austin has ever listened to a song all the way through. I would come over, and we'd go through his library of newly accquired music and listen to about thirty seconds of one song before moving on to the next. One time while we were listening to "Smells Like Teen Spirit", he started up the next song to show me how much bass it had. I put him on the spot.

Hey man have you ever even heard the last verse of that song?

He tells me no and then asks why. Well fuck him then.

It wasn't until I was maybe 19 that I got it. After landing a job at Wal-Mart -- every boy's dream -- I managed to save up enough to snag some sweet headphones. Now I had no idea why I needed such sweet ass headphones. I just knew that I needed them because there is a right way to listen to music, and it involved them.

After that it hit me pretty fucking hard. I don't know if it's because I got turned down for a third date by I girl I really felt I had a connection with, or if it was because I hated my awful fucking job, or if those headphones were actually as super fucking sweet as everyone told me they were. But on a lonely day like any other, I put on "Since I've Been Loving You" by Led Zeppelin and vanished. Just poof.

I imagine if anybody else was in the room with me they would have freaked out. I was nowhere to be seen!

Wherever I was was very comfortable. I remember just seeing blue and yellow lines freaking out like some sort of musical muscle spasm. It was like being heartbroken but in love. My eyes were shut and I rolled around like a cat with some serious nip. The good stuff from oh you know that place in south america.

Yeah I "got" it. My house could have burned down and I would have died there, just listening to that song. As a matter of fact, I would have loved that. I can't think of a better way of dying.

So there you have it world. If you ever see my immersed in sound I want you to murder me. You would be doing me a favor.

Anti-Hospitality

If you had to stand in front of a door and talk to everyone you see without prejudice, could you do it? Or would your mind put together an idea of a person before you could even greet them?

So lately I've been standing at the center of the store and helping customers as they walk by. It has its ups and downs.

The ups are I talk to much more people in a day. Most of the time they don't need anything from my department, so I end up just walking them someplace but that's not a big deal. It makes the day go by faster when you're just shooting the shit with a customer.

The downs are that I talk to much more people in a day. You can't really have a ton of good customers without a few bad ones. Oh well.

Our first culprit was interesting looking. Now I find I don't want to talk to people based on their appearance. Call me prejudiced, I don't know. I can't stand people that are odd looking on purpose. Like it's not your fault if your face is weird, but it is your fault if your pants are pulled up to your chest.

This guy was abnormally tall with a very distinctive drug-user face. You know the one I'm talking about. Like he's constantly worried and is sweating despite the building being really cool. I can tell this guy is an enemy to the world but I have to talk to him. Its my job. So he tells me this--

"If I need help, I'll ask."

I say cool. I really didn't want to help him so it works out great. The odd thing is that he continually curses at his son, and its really almost terrifying in a way. Iduno if he was mad at the kid or what. Our mobile manager Adam said he was cursing to the little boy about our store, which is just super fucking weird and I feel sorry for the little guy. Oh well. You can't pick and choose your parents. I know that all too well.

While he was leaving he told our door guy that he got helped too much and he wasn't coming back. Haha.

So the next guy I just really did not want to talk to. He was doing the pants to chest thing, which looked even worse on him because he was what I can only describe as rotund. He had his hair slicked back but it was too long so he donned what I typically call a stinky mullet. This and he was wearing shorts. Jesus christ. Shorts?

I walk up to the guy and ask him how his day is going. He just looks at me, puts his lips to his lips, and goes, "Shhhhh."

What a dick. So I say yeah sometimes I get hung over too.

I'm okay with somebody not wanting to talk to me, but that is no way to go about it. To make sure he gets plenty of attention, I point him out to the rest of the store over microphone and tell everyone to get this man everything he needs. He isn't going to get out of the store without at least 5 people talking to him.

This is something we usually do to thieves. Why? Thieves and socially inept people are ones that hate being talked to. And I would say the majority of the time it is very hard to distinguish between the two.

What you'll do is have a whole bunch of people just start asking the thief if he needs help and they usually break down and leave after a while.

Am I saying this guy was stealing? Nah. I'm sure he was just a doucherag. What I'm saying its that by not presenting yourself as a human being in a respectful manner only shows the world that you are a chicken basket with extra cunt or that you just have not worked a day in your life, and you appear no better than the subhuman trash that comes in on a daily basis to steal xbox live cards even though you can't use them without activating them at a register.

So I urge you, get a job in retail if even for a short time. Do not become this. If somebody walks up to you and asks you how your day goes, have a conversation with them. If for whatever reason you believe you are above this person, go kill yourself. It is win-win for everyone.

Teamwork

There are this father and son I've seen at Best Buy a couple of times who I swear communicate telepathically.

I got to actually talk to them for the first time after seeing them so often because they needed a tv. The father just had this really weird smile on all the time, even when it wasn't approriate to smile. His son did too, but his was more of a toothy grin. It is also worth noting that they looked nothing alike.

I just recall several times during my time with them that the son seemed to pre-emptively do things that his father wanted to be done. While I was loading out their TV, I told the father to bring his car around and he told me he sent his son to do it.

When? I was standing with both of you the whole time.

I also saw both Victor and Tim again.

If you remember Victor, he was the one who had to research every little thing he would buy. Well it paid off for me because after doing some research, he decided to come back and get a blu-ray player. I thought it was cool that he was telling the truth about his weird research fetish and wasn't just a really cheap person.

Tim seemed worse this time around though. Things were still going pretty bad for him and he talked a lot about his health issues and his crushed dream of becoming a pro football player.

When I start writing a story I hope I can create characters like these people. It seems so easy and tempting to stick with archetypes and idealistic entities, but wacky too careful Victor and I feel my life was wasted Tim are two of the most fascinating dudes I have ever met.

If you haven't already, check out a website called textfiles.com. It sounds pretty nondescript, but it's full of rich history from the 89's BBS days. I am currently obsessed with it.

Can't get 500 words out this time. Sorry.

House Rule

One of my pet peeves is when a person gets punished for doing something wrong or illegal and then get angry over it.

What were you expecting exactly?

I remember the first and only time my friends and I went to Applebee's. We drove 45 minutes to the next town over just to eat there. This is, of course, because we had pretty much exhausted Baytown in terms of food. Every restaurant seemed dull and routine, so we actively seeked out new places to eat at.

I didn't like my meal, but that is not the point of this story. The point is that Nick and Jason decided they would pull a fast one on Applebee's by having Nick buy a meal that comes with free soup and giving the soup to Jason. The thing is, if Nick doesn't eat the soup then they have to charge Jason for the soup. This is so nobody gets a freebie soup. In my opinion it is a completely reasonable rule. Its the same reason you can't have one family share a plate in a buffet diner.

When they charge Jason for the soup he and Nick get angry. They tell me not to tip her. I tell them to shut the fuck up and basically have to explain to them what they did was against the rules and that they have no reason to be angry.

If you get pulled over for speeding and your first reaction is to roll your eyes and get pissed because the man is keeping you down, go fucking swallow a cactus. You were breaking the law!

"Oh but James I don't agree with all the laws blah blah."

I don't agree that I shouldn't be able to fly and never have to poop but that's just not how it works, b. Laws, whether you agree with them or not, are meant to be followed. If you disagree, there are actual legal things you can do. Breaking the law is not one of those things, obviously. Do you think you are a rebel? If anything, law abiding citizens are the rebels. In a world where everyone pirates music, and drives through corner store parking lots to get places faster the ones that do play by the rules are a minority. How does that make you feel?

Now this is a rant for sure. But I bet I can stretch it to five hundred words.

If you're a gamer you might know that people like to make house rules. I hate house rules and I will give reasons in the following sentences. House rules tend to imply that you know better than the designers of the game. While in rare cases this may prove to be the case, you must consider that before a game hits the market it is typically tested over and over to try and create a fair, balanced product.

Imagine, if you will, playing Street Fighter as Ryu but not being able to shoryuken because of a house rule. Somebody might say it has too much priority and is unfair to the game. This is all hypothetical of course, because most people would rather ban throws because they don't want to learn how to tech. But do you see how you have fundamentally changed the game (for the worse) by removing an important part of it because you lack the knowledge and experience with the game to see why the original rule, or in this case the dragon punch, affected it for better or worse? Run on sentence.

Now there are other options. If you consider yourself an authority on the game you can try and contact the creator. You could ask why they created a specific rule, or possibly suggest changes. I recall in Battle for Edahd somebody proposed a variant that made the combat much better and now it is accepted by pretty much everyone as the way to play. You could also create a game exactly like it seeing as how you cannot claim ownership to game mechanics. Most people usually hate this sort of thing but sometimes you get good results.

Blah.

Agendas

"James, when you get older you'll realize that some people have 'agendas' and sometimes truth gets in the way of them."

Victor was a customer of mine with a very unique issue, and also the one who said that. Victor told me that he would research a purchase for months. Even years. He didn't make any moves without knowing every detail. The fact that I sold him a surge protector was an incredible feat. He was intent on getting the tv and getting out, but that's now how it works with James Harrison.

This was during finals week, and I didn't really want to be working when I still had things I needed to work on. I actually mentioned as much as we were getting him signed up for a credit card, and he asked me what I was studying. I mentioned history and he mentioned that he didn't like how people were constantly revising and changing history. I told him about a few decisions the board of education were making and he gave me the line that opened this text.

I've started to like the term "agenda" because it just sounds so rad.

"What's your agenda, douchebag?"

You know I may call in tomorrow. I'm feeling kind of sick.

Retail has the oddest way of dealing with that sort of things. Typically you will get a guilt trip.

"There is only one other person working today. Are you sure you can't come in?"

And then the sarcastic, half-truthed wish of health.

"Okay, well I hope you feel better tomorrow."

And then you sit at home feeling like shit even though you already felt like shit because you were fucking sick. Typically they'd rather you come in and just spread your sickness to all of the customers. It's the perfect way to run a business because people with weakened immune systems are more acceptant of attachments. I made that up but it is still pretty ridiculous.

Hopefully one day I can get a job where being sick doesn't affect me much. Who knows how that will turn out.

Tim

After I became a salesman my ability to talk to people improved tremendously. Small talk was no longer an obstacle, and I could always find something to talk about that interested the other party. Most people would give obvious signs.

If they have an mp3 player they obviously listen to music. Ask them how they feel about lil weezy. They either love or hate that guy. Just play to the crowd.

Sometimes they wear a shirt with a band name or something on it. I bumped into this dude the other day that was wearing a spider-man shirt and I asked him where he bought his comics. We talked for like five minutes. We could have gone on longer, but he was kind of socially retarded but that is okay.

But this one time I sat outside of target I got jumped by kindness. It was such a hot day and I didn't feel like talking to anybody. I was sitting outside of the store just waiting for my ride when this big dude sits next to me.

"Man it's hot out here."

I was like haha yeah. He said, "I'd take off my shirt but people would go blind."

This guy was kind of chunky but so am I so I laughed. I was wearing my best buy uniform at the time so of course I get the usual question.

"How long have you worked at best buy?"

Dude just kicked through my fence. That's how you initiate a conversation. It's not like I could douche out of that one. "Oh you know a year or so," blah blah turn away to stare at the concrete. Happens every time. Inevitably, the work discussion started.

Long story short, we talked about our jobs and I found out in a really dickheaded way that I got paid more than him while doing much less work. When he asked me how much I got paid, I couldn't even give him an answer because I honestly didn't remember. 8 or 9 dollars? Something like that?

I didn't realize how douchey my response was because I didn't know that Tim was making less than seven dollars doing the most tedious sounding job known to man. And he mentioned it so sincerely. I just asked, "Do they pay you enough?"

So I always tell my friends and co-workers that I get paid too much. They all laugh, but I never know if I'm joking or not. But Tim (that's his name by the way) has to organize mountains of documents and then scan them one by one into a database for eight hours a day. I get anxious when I have to scan a single piece of art. This dude is literally doing something that will be performed by super robots in the near future. And he gets paid as such. Fuck, Tim, I didn't realize things were so bad.

He actually works for the unemployment office. Like, he started by getting jobs from them but eventually moved up the ladder and is an actual employee of theirs. That gives me hope that a hardworking dude like him can get somewhere. And it fills me with rage that a lazy low-life like me gets paid more than a guy like him.

Since then I started to avoid talking about money when the work discussion came up. And it came up a lot. People love to use it as an opening line. I don't even have to be wearing the uniform. I always get the, "Hey don't you work at best buy? I promise I'm not a stalker."

To say I'm a distinctive looking dude would be an understatement, but I look bizarrely different in my uniform. At least to me. So when people spot me outside of work and know who I am, I feel like they've discovered my secret identity. Sometimes it makes sense, like the girl from target. She talks to me whenever she sees me but that's because I go to target all the fucking time. But sometimes it's terrifying, like when I'm just sitting at school reading. But I guess that's the price you pay for working where everybody shops.

Man what was I even talking about.

The Customer

There is one customer that eludes me and that is because I am not able to get into the head of this person. I am a dude who doesn't like doing anything unless I am completely prepared. I don't talk about stuff unless I know a whole lot about it.

This dude is the opposite.

This is the guy that comes in and is looking for a song. He doesn't know who sings the song, or what the name of the album is. He is not even sure of the genre because its like a mix of a and b. He maybe thinks he knows the name so he calls his brother and he doesn't know either.

Your mission is to get this guys song.

The reason I can't understand this person is because I can't imagine embarassing myself like that. I mean a lot of customers emberass themselves. You have the 60 year old that acts like a 12 year old who complains because we don't carry replacement parts for electric razors and then throws one across the isle. You have the angry soccer mom who gets violent because you're out of wii fits, and they'll "go to wal-mart" but won't find it there either (because hint hint everyone is out). Those people are embarassing. But this guy is the king of those guys.

Imagine if you walked into mcdonalds and went up the counter. Okay lets paint the scene. There is a line of people behind you who also want to eat, and you are here with your friend named Flippo and you spent last night partying with "hot bitches." You tell the guy you want something to eat. You don't know what it's called, it might be a mix between a sandwich and a burger. He thinks it might be called a value meal, but he's not completely sure. He knows though that it had cheese on it.

Maybe he thinks you're a wizard, like you can just conjure that shit out of thin air. "Oh hey bro I heard you fought the balrog in the mines of moria. So there's this song I'm looking for."

This customer is not to be confused with the singing customers. They are similar in a lot of ways, but singing customers will sing the song to you in the hopes that you will recognize it. Though hilarious, it is embarassing to be around these people because they naturally draw attention to themselves.

No this guy is different. After spending 15 minutes trying to figure out what this song is, you tell him you can't find it so there is this awkward silence where you are wondering when he will leave, and he is wondering why you can't accomplish the impossible.

Memorial

I watched a woman die outside of a chicken restaurant one time.

Or at least I think I did. See, the ambulance came and took her away, so I don't know if she survived or not. What I do know is that she had some sort of siezure in the parking lot and her head smashed against the ground, leaving her wriggling on the ground. There was so much blood it carried itself to the gutter, and sickened me to my stomach. She had this look in her face like it was all over, but I couldn't do anything. I was actually in the drive through window of my first job (the chicken place) screaming, asking if she was alright.

This old black lady got there before me and called the ambulance.

It's something I think about every once in a while, because it marked a change in who I thought I was. I stopped watching or even enjoying gorey movies. I started questioning the fragility of life, and I didn't even have to join the army to do it.

I also remember that nobody else seemed to give a shit. I mean pretty much everyone I worked with saw what I did, but it didn't bother them all. Okay, so most of them are cambodian refugees, so maybe they have seen worse things. But I wonder if I'm just overly sensitive.

My friend Chrystina said I should try and track this woman down to see if she really died or not, but I'm not sure how I'd even do that. I'm also not completely sure it would ease my mind. I was going to see something like that eventually, I imagine.

I think I had almost forgotten about it until I saw the trailer for Mad World a while back. Now, don't get me wrong. I know the difference between cartoon violence and the hard stuff. But there was this scene where the main character jammed a stop sign into some guy's throat and he was just screaming. Just screaming about how he didn't want to die.

That woman didn't scream out on the parking lot because she was unconscious. I imagine if she was of sober mind how horrifying it would have been. I don't think I could have just stood there and watched like I did. A person screaming out of fear of death just strikes a chord with me somewhere.

So I'm gonna ask a question to anyone who may have experienced something like this. What did it do to you?

High school blues

The other night I had a dream that all my teeth fell out, so as soon as I woke up I brushed my teeth.

Let me also mention that I woke up at 6am. This is because I "volunteered" to help out a local high school because best buy sponsors them. This means that I have sort of just hop along with some high school kids that might possibly be attending this college we're visiting.

The thing is, they don't need help. Things are organized so well that they don't need anyone to watch the kids at all. So that leaves me following Mr Ellison, the teacher in charge of the kids.

What you need to know about Mr Ellison is that he is old as fuck. I mean, he is nice and all, but super old. And he loves to talk. It doesn't matter who. Everytime we bumped into somebody he even remotely recognized he would start talking to them. He would even walk up to random students and talk about how different the school was back when he was enrolled.

Later he told me he does this because he never knows if it'll be the last time he talks to them, him being so old. Hearing that kind of makes me sad.

So around lunch time, I get seperated from him which isn't terribly bad, but I'm alone here. It's not like I know anyone. I find a table away from everyone else so I can get some quiet. This way I can call my manager and tell her how pissed I am that I'm the only one that showed up. Yeah, 3 other people were supposed to join me but they all bailed because they douchewagons. Well the manager isn't in, but the one who answers the phone is one of the people that was supposed to come with me and she's all Im sorry Im sorry.

So here comes the awkward part.

Some teachers notice me sitting alone and decide to sit with me. As it turns out, they think I'm a student brought along with the trip, but I don't try to correct them. Not yet, anyway. So the teachers bring two girls with them. High school girls.

Right so one of the girls sits across from me despite the fact that her friend is at the other table next to us. She's also been staring at me since she arrived, but always looks away when I look back at her. I'm thinking uh oh.

Now let it be known that I had no interest in this girl. First off, my loyalties lie elsewhere (hi sophia). Two, jailbait. Yeah.

So this girl is looking at her friend and giggling, and they whisper stuff to each other. Like I haven't played this game before. I'm starting to realize they think I'm a student, and I need to rectify this. Of course I don't. So this little high school girl is just trying to get my attention. She comments on my hair (which is super badass btw so I don't blame her). At some point she tries to hug me and I just sort of shrug it off like no Im fine.

She leaves to get food, and I start talking to everyone else. The teachers say she has boundaries issues, and Im like yeah. They then ask me what grade I'm in.

After I explain that I'm with best buy, they kind of just look at each other and say does she know that you're and adult? I say probably not. They say I need to tell her.

Now how the fuck am I supposed to articulate that? Like, oh btw I'm 22 and you are jailbait so later?

A young girl with a crush on my doesn't make me uncomfortable. But adults looking at me like I'm some sort of child predator does. So I try to avoid looking like I'm enjoying her company, which isn't too hard but makes me feel like a dickhead. Eventually, she asks me if she'll see me at school and I tell her I'm in college.

She goes oh and blushes.

And then she starts rattling off names of people that go to my school and asks me if I know them.

Aw well fuck.

Luckily, Mr Ellison shows up and decides to leave so I go with him. I get waved goodbye, and this girl just looks so sad and I feel like the biggest douche of all time.

I follow Mr Ellison to the gym where we're watching the final presentations and I sit at the very top of the bleachers all by my lonesome. Guess who shows up? Right so she catches my eye and just sort of shyly waves at me. I'm like ughhhh, but she sincerely asks me may I sit with you? I tell her I guess.

While we're sitting she mentions being cold.

Noooo. Listen guys, my jacket doesn't come off. It is part of the outfit. Without it, I just look like a businessman. I ask her why she doesn't put her jacket on, considering she isn't wearing it. She says she's so skinny it doesn't matter because she's always cold. Aw.

So we file out of the gym and she does the sad wave thing again. Argh.

The worst thing by far, which actually made me feel bad, was when I got outside. I'm waiting with Ellison and his kids, when I sort of see high school girl out of the corner of my eye. I try to pretend like I don't see her.

But she does this thing where she walks halfway towards me, and then immediately turns around, looks at the floor and walks away. She does this like three times, and I actually just wanted to stop her and be like listen. My name is james but this is highly inappropriate. But of course I don't. I let her think I'm a jerk because it's probably better this way.

Because, guys, that sort of crush is based on appearance alone. She probably saw me and just latched on to a guy that looks wildly different than what she's used to. I know it wasn't my personality, because like I said, I would douching it up. Also I maybe said like 3 sentences to her the entire time I was there.

And aside from the way I look, I am terribly fucking weird. Sometimes I don't know how sophia can stand it. I am this awful hypocrite. I can name off the model numbers of mobile suits but make fun of my friends that watch anime. I have an obsessive personality, but a severe issue with commitment. Also, financially, I'm not exactly secure. I am not boyfriend material.

So that is that.

Now despite all this, I have to go to work. Yeah, we don't get back until 5:30. I was supposed to be at work at 4, but they know where I am. Well I thought so anyway. As soon as I get there people are freaking out asking me why I'm late.

I don't even answer them. I am mentally exhausted, wondering how long Mr Ellison could go on, and if I broke somebody's heart.

I'm gonna stop here, because everything else was sort of meh.

Ugh.

I need new people in my life.

Dear diary

Dear diary, 

I woke up today and started getting ready for work when I realized that there was a small spot of blood on my shoe. I couldn't think of what it might be, but then I noticed there was a dead carcass under my computer desk, and I may have accidentally kicked it while I was on the computer last night. 

Thinking it was a prank from one of my friends, I examined the body and realized that it was a real, once living person. In a panic, I covered the corpse in dirty clothes so it would look like the rest of my room. 

I thought about calling in to work but I had already called in this week, and I might have been questioned. I just crossed my fingers and hoped nobody would look in my room. 

The sight of a dead body made my stomach upset, so when grandma asked me if I was going to eat something before work I just shook my head and tried to not look her in the eye. So my dad sits down at the table and grandma starts telling him about this missing person they're talking about on the news. 

I just laughed nervously and said, "that's terrible." 

At work I performed poorly because I obviously had more important things on my mind. I asked my supervisor to let me work an easy section, so she puts me in gaming. Things were going well until I get a text message from my friend. 

hey u wanna hang out l8r?? 

I tell him I have something important to do later and he responds. 

ya i no all about that. ill pick u up from work. 

At this point I'm confused and hungry and I don't object at all. He shows up to work about a half hour before my shift is over and I see him looking at ipods. I walked up to him and told him hey man, I really cannot hang out today. 

He tells me to chill out, and after I get off we leave to get some food. We park in the driveway of a place I don't recognize and I ask him if its a new restaurant. He shrugs. When we walk in everyone starts waving at me and saying hello. I don't know these people, but they seem to know me. 

Its our man, they say. Its that guy! 

I ask them who they think I am, and they pretend like I'm joking. C'mon, man. That's what they tell me. I turn to my friend and tell him I'm not hungry after all, but everyone starts to push me towards the center of the room. 

They tell me I was the winner last night. The winner of what, I ask? As soon as I talk one guy opens up a set of curtains. Behind the curtains is a man tied to a large, spinning circle. 

They tell me I'm an expert at this and hand me a knife. I don't know what they're talking about.Throw! They shout it at me. Throw! I tell them I don't want to. Last night I didn't have any objections, they tell me. Last night I was awesome. My friend asks me why I don't remember anything, but I honestly don't know. Maybe I do this all the time. Why would I forget something like this? 

Throw! Throw! They chant. 

So I throw, and the knife punctures the man through the lung. The crowd goes wild. 

You did it! They cheer. 

The guy who opened the curtains unstraps the dying man from the spinning wheel and starts the wrap the guy in some sort of powdered paper. He tells my friend to take care of the body. 

My friend turns to me and says I need to find a ride home, but it shouldn't be hard because the people here are really cool. Then he takes the body and loads it up in the back of his SUV. I ask him why he can't take me home, and he says its because he has to give somebody else a ride. I ask who? 

"You see that drunk guy right there? He's not gonna remember anything that happened tonight."

Destroy Boy

I wake up with a headache and I'm like ten years old. I sleep in a small wooden shed outside of my parent's country home, which is surrounded by miles and miles of green. On one side there are trees, and on the other side there is nothing. I am miles away from other people, so there is a lady in a wagon that comes to pick me up for school. But first I need to eat breakfast in my parents' house. 

I'm meant to knock on the door of their house, but I just walk in. I get scolded. I sit at my usual seat at the table and look up at mom and dad. He likes to wear a white panama hat, and she wears the same dress every day. At least I think it's the same one. 

Dad needs to shave. It started out as laziness, but now he grows a beard as some sort of sick sense of defiance. He goes on about how he hates pretty faced "faggots" and mom nods. Mom hates the beard too. I can tell when I look at her. She was probably pretty at some point, but now her eyes have sunken into complacency. She follows dad's dismal thinking because where she is from, they don't let women think. Good stuff.  

It's the fourth of July. I ask dad what we are doing to celebrate. He says I'm not meant to know.

After school I come home and we eat dinner. Dad says he has a surprise. 

He takes us outside and says, "These are fireworks."

I find out that fireworks are the most amazing thing. They explode into beatiful colors. They can be entertaining, but dangerous if not handled properly. I fell in love at first sight. 

The next day I bring a firework to school and I tell a classmate to hold on to it and it goes off in his hand. At first I didn't respect their destructive power, but after this I do. I get scolded as usual, but it doesn't bother me much. I had found something to give me a bit of meaning. 

So when I eventually killed my father, I used fireworks. I thought it would be funny, but it really wasn't. Still glad I did it though. Killing dad wasn't like a huge act of revenge or anything. It was just on a list of things I had planned to do, and I was inspired at the moment. You might think that I hated the man, but it was more like I had no feeling for or against him at all. 

I've heard somebody call me a sociopath. No, that's not true. People like you and I have devils in us. It's that devil that causes us to do things like that. It makes us stronger, faster, and impossible to kill. You know? It's that obsession. I know you feel it. 

Crab Kings

Based on a filipino folk story. I added a bit to it.

The Crabs were a frustrated race. Always racing from side to side, and nobody knows what they're doing. It is said that because of the warring nature of the crabs, they have two kings. One in time of diplomacy, and one in times of war. It is also said that if a crab were to be to become too powerful, it was common for him to be assassinated, therefore most of the crab kings chose to stay in line.

 

During the time of this story, the two crab kings were actually brothers. Though they were related, and looked nearly identitical, they really were nothing alike. The first brother was kind and gentle, and always using reason to solve issues. The second brother was rash and violent, choosing force over words. 

So one day in the crab council, the second brother brought up that the waves were too loud and that the crabs could not sleep at night. Tired, restless crabs could not defend other crabs, so this was a very serious issue. The first brother decided, since he was the active king, that he would reason with the waves. The second brother, though he did not approve, had no say in the matter and thus kept his mouth shut. 

But a sad thing happened. Days went by and the first brother never returned. Though the second brother didn't get along with the first brother, he still loved him very much. Hurt and confused, the second brother rallied all the able-bodied male crabs and started to march towards the waves. 

Along the way, the second brother and his army encountered a shrimp. The shrimp, curious as he is, asked the crab warriors where they were headed. 

"We are waging war with the waves," said the king. "For they have kept us awake and killed my beloved brother."

The shrimp laughed. 

"But your legs are so weak, they have to bend to support your heavy bodies. You will be washed off your feet and die before you strike a single blow!"

The king was furious. He ordered his men to apprehend the shrimp, and torture it with thier pincers. 

"Okay! Okay! I will try to steer the battle in your favor. Please let me go!"

So they let him go. 

They arrived at the shore a while later and prepared for war. This is when the king crab noticed that the shrimp's eyes were set, and he figured this was an anatomical error. 

"Listen, shrimp. You are facing the wrong way. How will you help us fight the waves? What weapon do you wield?"

"I wield a spear on my head," said the shrimp. 

Then suddenly a huge wave rushed forward, and the shrimp swam away to safety. The crabs, since they were looking the wrong way, were washed off their feet, covered with water, and drowned. This is considered the saddest day in crab history. 

Soon after, the wives of the crab warriors wandered to thes shores looking for their long lost husbands. But unprepared, they too were washed away and murdered by the cruel waves. 

After that, little crabs would come to the shore looking for their parents. The sad, old regretful shrimp would stand near the shore and tell them the cruel fates their fathers suffered, but always upsold their bravery. This is why crabs now live near the water. 

They scuttle back and forth, trying to kill the waves. 

Angry?

I don't understand people that get angry. 

Anger gives you a temporary boost of strength, which in "The Real World" really doesn't help you at all. If you're not playing sports, or fighting for your life, then what is the point?

I'm sure people have noticed when they sit still, pissed off, they just stew and can't focus on anything else. How is that going to help you? 

Not to say I don't get angry. I just don't get angry like some people do. My mom will go on screaming about how I don't ever put the dishes up, but the fact is, if I do put the dishes up then grandma gets upset because I'll somehow mess it up. 

So you can see the humor here. I'm going to piss off somebody no matter what. My brother gets mad about this. He starts yelling about the injustice, but he really shouldn't because it is hilarious. 

If mom and grandma realized that, they wouldn't laugh either because they're just angry people. I can't relate to them.

Dad gets passive agressive when he's pissed. Talks real nice when meaning snide things. If you roll your eyes he gets even angrier. But he can't punch me. His heart is too small and he would pass out. So how is a burst of physical energy going to help him?

It's not. I'd knock his ass out, unfairly so. Psh, honor. 

Speaking of, the subject of honor came up the other day. Some guys at work were saying it wasn't honorable to shoot a guy while he was reloading, but I always figured that was the perfect time to shoot somebody. I'm sure most people that are getting fucking shot at would agree. If that rule were ever in effect, I would just use my reloading time to move forward since they couldn't shoot me. Plus, I could probably fire first after reloading, because they couldn't be sure when I stopped reloading in the first place. 

I'd be the best gunfighter in a world where the rules stop you from being unfair. Ironic. 

I will never respect the concept of honor until a line is drawn between what is honorable and dishonorable. Even then, I'm pretty sure anybody with a little logic and reasoning could tear it apart. It's not hard. Honor is as invisible as God is. And we all know how He feels about the scientific method. 

I can't seem to write 500 words on a particular subject so my posts get all fragmented. Next time I may just try to write about one thing. 

But now I'll talk about Sacred 2. It's a fun game. Addictive. But god, the art direction upsets me. It's like they chose to create this awesome fantasy world but decided they'd do so without style. So every character looks like a twiggy version of a human with super high cheek bones and body parts that are too thin in some places and too robust in others. 

Why would you do that? What's worse is that not many people seem to be bothered by the ugliness. I know it's not just me. Speak up, guys. 

Robot Champion

So I have sort of moved myself over to the media section because I like it there a bit more. I don't have to force overpriced hdmi cables on to people, and if somebody tells me they are just looking, they are probably telling the truth.

I mostly find movies and music for people, and answer questions and such. Sometimes I have to sell mp3 players, which technically isn't my department, but I do it anyway because why not?

My favorite part of working in retail is the people. I've said before, for every butthead that hassles you there is a genuinely awesome customer on the next isle to make up for it.

Well this lady comes in and she's looking for that Jack Black/Micheal Cera movie that hasn't come out yet. I tell her we don't have it, and she's upset and I go on to help other people. Well I see her again in the horror aisle a small time later and ask her if she's still doing okay.

"I'm looking for something either really funny or really gruesome."

I'm like whoa, you asked the right guy.

She wants one of the Hellraiser sequels, but she owns all the ones we have. I show her this box set we have which is actually in the shape of the box from the movies. She loves it and totally freaks out. I am also freaking out because this lady is awesome.

Keep in mind this lady is older, so there's nothing romantic there. Just the funny feeling you get when you meet somebody that has the same weird taste in things that you do. She was as normal looking as they get, too.

I suggest to her some fucked up japanese horror movies I like, and she says she doesn't like subtitles with her gore. But then she explains that it's nothing against japanese, because she has a collection of s&m anime movies. Yes.

She comes back the next day and buys A Clockwork Orange and a season of Dexter. What an amazing person.

Yeah, so.

I'm not socially retarded by any means. I know how to groom myself, and I dress okay, and I talk okay but I'm still an introvert and people still exhaust me. With the exception of a few people, like Sophia maybe, I just don't want to get close. In fact, a lot of the people I know have never seen me outside of a suit or vest (or possibly work uniform). Nick is probably the only person that's ever seen my in an undershirt, chilling out. Most of all being comfortable.

I like being around people. I really do. But I'm rarely comfortable. I can get together and talk to a bunch of guys but after a while I just want to leave. But I don't want people to think I'm a flake so I stay. I'm not like Daniel Plainview or something. I don't just see bad in people. I think I just see a lot of bad in myself, and if anyone were to discover that, they'd know why I don't talk about it.

Boom. 500 words.

500 Words

I made this blog to post up my 500 words a week. Nobody will see these most likely.