For the Love of Peanut Butter!

So, I know this is coming late, but Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it! It was a relief to be away from school and the fact that there was no internet available to me was even better! Mostly... There was some chemistry homework I could have done had I been able, but hey, I couldn't!

But last Sunday, November 20th, I witnessed something truly... interesting, stressful, frightening, hilarious... a whole slew of emotions.

It was about 8 or so in the morning and I had just gotten dressed for mass. I passed by the glass door to the back porch and saw at least six of our cats lounging around, sitting on the workbench awaiting food, or staring at me through the door. Now, just beyond the back porch slab of concrete is a little terrace for my mom's garden and just because the hill was just so steep there. At the edge almost on top of the railroad ties that make the walls of the terrace was my cat, Rascal. He's the prettiest little fluffy white with patches of tabby ever and thoroughly lives up to his name. As I looked at him, I realized he was playing with a jar, so I stuck my head out the door and called him (because my cats come when I call!). He turned to me very shakily with an empty jar stuck on his head! I ran up to him to examine the situation. He stared at me through foggy plastic with huge eyes that screamed: "HELP!"

This is sort of what he looked like, except this cat didn't make it:

Poor cat! No one saved him :'- (

My brothers' friend was sitting calmly at our bar waiting for my dad and I to drop him off at his grandparents so I walked in and asked him if he was busy, because I needed help. I was doing my best not to panic, but when you're holding a damp panting ball of cat that may or may not be suffocating, it's somewhat hard not to be tense. My dad came over and accessed the situation, and when it was obvious that the jar was not going to come off easily we all stepped outside to begin the operation.

The first thing my dad did was pull out a power drill and change to a large bit. He put it up to the bottom of the jar and began while I restrained Rascal, who was freaking out. The drill poppped through and the cat jerked back just as suddenly. Instead of immediately being grateful that the cat could breathe, my first remark was "Dad! Did you hit his face? Did you hit his face?!" while peering through the foggy plastic desperately. My dad was shouting "I don't know!" and on the point of cussing when I assured him that he hadn't hurt the cat, much to my relief. (The cat sure acted like he had!)

The next thing he did was take out the hacksaw. As if the cat wasn't freaked out enough! Dad started to saw off the bottom of the jar and the cat started squirming like a maniac. I was doing my best to restrain him, but his paw slipped out and scratched my dad's hand. My dad was angry until I told him that the cat's head was halfway out of the jar. We pulled it off and Rascal was free and ran off to clean himself.

All that, just because Rascal was trying to lick the remnants of peanut butter from the bottom of the jar. I hope he learned his lesson. Thank goodness it was just plastic and it came off real easy though.

(Sorry for no pics. I was too busy keeping the cat from suffocating.)

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

Yes. There's a light at the end of the tunnel and I have had to focus on it all week long. And it's only Wednesday, nearly Thursday. This week has been a particularly challenging one and I think that it is because of that expectation, like a child waiting for Christmas. Except my Christmas that I'm currently waiting for is coming this Friday. I'm going home for a week for Thanksgiving. Good ole Turkey Day to the rescue.

Since last Friday, I have had little sleep at all, so I know I'm stretching it writing this, but I need to somewhat vent. Friday night was great, to say the least. I went to a concert featuring two bands: Jake Owen, who was okay, but I personally did not really care for him, and the Avett (ay-vette) Brothers, who were A-W-E-S-O-M-E. I loved them. I hated the freezing weather however. It literally took me fifteen minutes or so to thaw out. I'm not very cold tolerant at all, but the brothers were so worth it. I have a new favorite band... not that I really had one before now. I mean, I like Joe Hisaishi's work and Hans Zimmer, but they're composers. Not bands. Anyway, I got back at midnight or past. It was late. I got some sleep, but the next day was just a homework day.

Sunday morning I got up and went to church with my friend, ate lunch/breakfast, then went to work. I did not get to sleep until midnight or so again. But here's where the hardships start. Because I only got maybe six hours of sleep that night, and I need at least eight or so. That's just me.

Let me just say, that today was horrible because first off, I had a test that I wasn't really prepared for, but prepared enough to where I didn't fail, I got back and immediately started to work on a paper due that day; just the finishing touches on the paper that is. After those classes, I returned and had to go pick up something for a friend, drove back, and helped her with baking for a showcase we had to do, then went to eat supper, promptly followed by an hour and a half of boring chemistry.

I get back to my dorm, puckered out and cold, and sit down to start on what other than more homework, only to discover that my computer would not work. I flipped out. I was bone tired and now I couldn't finish my homework that was due in three hours. I wanted to cry; I wanted to pound my computer to bits, but I closed it, set it aside, and forced myself to breathe. Thank you, God, for friends, because a girl on my hall lent me her laptop to use instead.

Needless to say, I am better now and about to get some rest finally. Here's looking at ten hours of sleep and a trigonometry test tomorrow, and quiz, and just two other classes. Friday I'm completely free and riding home with a friend to see my favorite cousin in the world.

I have proudly survived another grueling week of college. Can't wait for finals. :P

On a lighter note, here's what I drew out of sheer boredom!

 

Mr. Landy, this is what happens when I play with your minions on your blog.

Sadly, the ink wore off. Time draw something new I guess then!

For Thief Queen; I really miss you!

 Every

 Time

 I

 See

 ANYTHING

YELLOW

I

Immediately

 Think

Of

 YOU!

There is no exception...

The continuation...

I told you it would be continued, not that I think many if any have viewed it. I know you have, Thief Queen. Gosh! My fingers are freezing in here! Why did I choose to sit here?


Mr. Landy, I hope you're reading this. I'm doing this more for you than for me. I have my own stories to write.

Also, I changed it a wee bit, so I started off a little before where I left off, because of the extra dialogue that helps it flow better.

Here you guys go. Please enjoy:

“What? You don’t think it could be real, Mr. ‘Imaginative’,” Stephanie laughed as she stood up and stretched.

“Frankly, no,” Skulduggery replied curtly as he stood up and straightened out his shirt some. He clicked his fingers together as he stretched them out, as if they were sore from being curled under his chin so long.

“You’re one to talk! If we were basing our opinions on what is real, you shouldn’t be here at all.”

Skulduggery paused in his finger exercises, still looking at his fingers. He curled them in ant out one final time before countering  in a very matter of fact tone, “Valkyrie, you honestly think that David Bowie is going to come through your window and whisk you away into a labyrinth full of goblins?” He placed his hands on his hips and leaned down to her level, eye-to-eye socket.

Stephanie leaned forward and looked back hard at him. “Stranger things have come through it,” she replied.

Skulduggery drew himself back up to his full height and looked away, putting his hand on his face as he sighed. “You never struck me as one to entertain such fantasies…”

“Not even with Uncle Gordon?” she quipped. At this Skulduggery had to pause. Again Stephanie found herself what he was looking at actually, so she kept the smug look of triumph and arched an eyebrow. “Skulduggery?” she prompted, looking between his fingers. He was looking at her, she was sure of it.

“I see your point,” he admitted reluctantly, but with a tone that refused to admit defeat. The house nearly shook with the chime of an old clock. Both looked up. Eleven o’clock.

“Is it really that late already?” Stephanie said more to herself.

“Indeed,” Skulduggery replied heedless. “I must be off then. Important things to do, people to see, villains to conquer, and all that jazz.” He started to pull on his coat.

“Without me?”

“Your leg is still mending. I don’t think you’re quite ready yet. Give it time.” He pat her on the head as he flung his scarf around his neck with his other hand. “Good night.” And with that said, he put on his hat and silently exited the room.

“Night,” Stephanie replied, but she doubted he had even heard her. She heard the front door close, just loud enough to be heard with its creaky hinges. She also heard Skulduggery mutter at how his nearly completely silent exit had been ruined by the door. Stephanie smirked and curled up on the couch again, the heaviness of sleep hitting her in the face like a fist and then oozing through her blood throughout her body. It was inevitable, unavoidable. She picked up the remote and started to rewind the cassette and the whole story started to play backwards on the screen in a blur of motion. In a blur of motion.

Something moved and she gasped sharply, her whole body jerking suddenly awake. The screen of the television was dark.

“I must have dozed off,” she muttered sleepily. She sat up and looked at the cassette player, but all the lights were off on it. It was off. She couldn’t remember turning it off, but, then again, she didn’t remember falling asleep either.

The sound came again from the other side of the room; a sort of shuffling, scattering sound.

“What the-” she started, but stopped herself and finished with an exasperated, “Is there seriously mice in here?”

A snicker. She blinked rapidly. Now there was skittering under the couch, on the bookshelf and various other places. And it was dark. “What the hell!” she shouted and snapped her fingers. Nothing happened. She snapped them again, desperately. “Come on!” she hissed. The skittering sounds were escalating. It sounded like a mouse invasion, not a mouse problem. “Come on!” she shouted at her fingers as she snapped them harder and harder. The couch moved slightly. She jumped up, standing on it. Now something was beating at her window.

“What the hell!” she screamed again. Finally a flame caught in her hand and flared, illuminating the entire room. The skittering abruptly ceased, but the tapping on the window continued. She breathed in deeply, trying to stop herself from hyperventilating. Sweat was already rolling down her face.

The snicker came from by the door. It didn’t sound like anyone she knew. “Skulduggery?” she called. Nothing.

“Tanith?” Nothing again. It had to be them, playing a joke on her. Hadn’t Skulduggery randomly dropped by to visit anyhow? It snickered again and skittered around some more. She hopped off the couch and advanced. She could see a shadow in the doorway.

“…Dad?”

Suddenly the window burst behind her. She leapt through the doorway, her flame extinguishing itself in the process. The moon was her only light now. She slid up against the door frame, hardly realizing that whatever was there before was gone now. All she was concerned about now was what had come through the window. She could hear it moving inside, the gentle roll of… boots? She peeked around the corner slowly so as not to reveal herself in case it had failed to notice her before.

“I know you’re behind there,” came an oddly familiar voice. One she had trouble believing she was actually hearing. She was frozen to the spot. Her body refused to move.

“Come on now,” it taunted.

She forced herself around the corner of the frame, just enough to confirm her doubts. Her eyes fell on the moonlit room, and the man standing in the middle of it, his back to her.

“David Bowie?” she whispered in disbelief.

He turned around slowly, the crystal ball easily moving between his hands. He maneuvered it in his right hand, turned his left, and then there were two, one in each hand. He tilted his head down and narrowed his eyes.

“You remind me of the babe,” he said smoothly lifting his chin, both the balls still moving and changing hands. He smiled at her and held one out.

"What babe?" she asked dumbfounded. The snickers erupted from around her, but as soon as she looked around it all ceased again. What is going on?

"The babe with the power."

"What-" but now she stopped herself. "What is going on?" The laughing seemed to seep from every nook and cranny, every dark corner in the room. Goblins. She thought. The little Brian Froud goblins. "Shut up!" she shouted. The laughing stopped again.


To be continued...

And So It Begins...

For anyone who may happen to come over from Mr. Landy's blog and happened to read what I said in the oodles of comments he gets, I thought up a rather devious little tale. Oh, how it is devious! And I hope Mr. Landy gets to read it. For all his Ameriminions who may read this and only got to book three, such as myself, this story takes place after book one. It is set in the "simpler" days.

But before I begin, I want to ad an extra congratulations for the thirteen winners of Mr. Landy's generous contest. I know how amazingly excited all of you are and, while I am slightly disappointed myself, I am also very happy for all of you. A sincere congrats from an author wanna-be.

And I will be posting this to a page each time I update it so that it is all together in one easy to read spot.

And  for the few or none who may have been anticipating this, though I am nervous to be posting it in such a vulnerable spot, but I will trust you. Please don't let me down. I am trusting you an awful lot. Don't break my heart, because I am doing this for you.

But first allow me to finish my trigonometry homework, which I am starting now. 9:09pm.

...

DONE! Whew! Wasn't that hard tonight. 9:48. Didn't take all that long either, so now I can give you that story!... After I actually type it. I can hear the emptiness of one anticipation and countless ones who know not of this. Needless, I continue:

It was late, but Stephanie had persisted with her parents about spending another night in her uncle’s house. She loved the ancient feel and all the old things, but tonight she wasn’t exploring, because the urge had been strong, an urge that swelled to the point of bursting. She had to do it.

The screen flashed in front of her eyes and the light cast eerie shadows and illuminations in the room, giving the perfect mood to the room. Such somber expectation, a dull emptiness in the house carrying the tones of the movie into its crevices. She was absorbed, not so much as she was in her uncle’s novels, but in the nostalgia of a childhood favorite. Lightning cracked on the television screen, and Stephanie thought of how the room held the darkness, but the outside did not hold the magic. There wasn’t even a moon tonight. But these thoughts did not stay long as her attention returned to the screen as the windows flew open, the white curtains fluttering in the dramatic wind as a barn owl entered the room.

“And what, pray tell, are you watching?” Stephanie tried not to jump, but couldn’t help it.

“Labyrinth,” she replied grudgingly, attempting to ignore that Skulduggery had caught her off guard. It wasn’t often he did, but she knew that he enjoyed it when he did. He didn’t sit down, just propped his skull on his wrist as his elbows dug into the back of the couch.

“Gracious, is that really who I think it is.”

“David Bowie? Yes,” Stephanie said.

“And what the hell is he supposed to be in that garish garb?” Skulduggery leaned forward to where he was in the corner of Stephanie’s sight. She wondered if he was looking at her or the screen. Without an actual face, it was always rather hard to read his expressions or even know where he was looking. Like now for instance. Something in the back of her mind started to play with the question of how he even perceived the world, but she pushed it back and reminded herself to enjoy her movie, not question magic.

“The Goblin King.”

“He doesn’t look like a goblin. More like a vampire or something. Anything but a goblin,” he scoffed.

Stephanie sighed. She was missing her movie. “He’s not a goblin, he is the king of the goblins. He rules the goblins and runs the labyrinth.”

“Ah.” He hunched in silence for awhile and watched the movie Stephanie imagined. The scene changed and the placid blue lighting changed to the browns of the labyrinth. And the blues had complemented Skulduggery’s skull so well. Now it was more of a peachy tone.

“You know there is a Scooby-Doo movie called ‘The Goblin King’, where the Goblin King is in fact a Goblin voiced by Tim Curry.”

Stephanie looked at him. He didn’t look back, she figured.  Just watched her movie. “’Scooby-Doo’?” she asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s an American child’s cartoon about this big dog and his friends that solve mysteries. Except in the movie, the Goblin King was real. The movies are like that. It was pretty cheesy most of the time. A real waste of time, I’d say.”

“Why would you watch something like ‘Scooby-Doo’ in the first place?” Stephanie asked sarcastically. He didn’t reply. “Skulduggery?” Still no reply. Typical Skulduggery style. She stared at him awhile longer before giving up and returning to her movie. Sara was already talking to the little… whatever, Hoggle, whining about him killing the fairies. She sighed and crossed her arms, leaning back into the couch.

And silence reigned for the rest of the film as Sara fought her way through the Labyrinth. They were at the climax, with Sara running up and down those weird stairs that went all the wrong ways, her baby brother always just out of reach, and David Bowie singing and walking upside down on the stairs, and every other which-way. It was a little awkward with Skulduggery propped on the couch the whole time rather than sitting down. It just bothered Stephanie, like someone reading over her shoulder. She figured he must be enjoying it if he hadn’t left yet, but it was hard to tell from that expressionless skull. The hollow sockets would light up whenever the screen was bright, etching out the dramatic lines of the bone. She almost wished she was an artist for a moment, just to capture that. Capture the way the sleeves of his shirt fell down his arms for lack of anything to hold on to, the cuffs almost resting on his elbows. The shadows that fell across him, the shadows he casts; it was all very interesting.

“Why are you staring at me?” he asked.

“To see how long it takes for you to stare back,” she lied.

“I’m watching your movie. Why aren’t you?”

“Because I couldn’t tell if you were or not. For all I know you are sleeping.”

Suddenly the room went very dark. The credits were rolling up the screen, casting hardly any light at all. She turned on the lamp beside her. The room was flooded with light again. Now he was facing her.

“Interesting movie. Not the usual Muppet stuff, but I like it. Very imaginative.”

“What? You don’t think it could be real, Mr. ‘Imaginative’,” Stephanie laughed as she stood up and stretched. Skulduggery stood up as well.

“Valkyrie, you honestly think that David Bowie is going to come through your window and whisk you away into a labyrinth full of goblins?” he asked, placing his hands on his hips. He leaned down to her level, eye-to-eye socket.

Stephanie leaned forward and looked back hard at him. “Stranger things have come through it,” she replied.

To be continued...

Note: For complete version, go to "A Night for Stephanie". And this has been slightly modified on said page.